Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“But, Mrs. Stark!”

Pepper had to close her eyes at the indignation in the teenagers tone, she had to quietly remind herself that he wasn’t meaning to be rude. That the poor kid had just had his whole world upended in the blink of an eye, but he wasn’t listening when she explained to him she had a plan. “Peter, trust me okay. I took care of plenty of Tony’s bad publicity and I will take care of this too. We already pulled Quentin’s old employee file and are in the process of scheduling a press conference.”

Peter looked down, hands anxiously fiddling with the mask of his suit. “But, Mrs. Stark… I… He just announced to the entirety of New York – possibly the world, I-I don’t know - who I am. May, all my friends, anyone who I’ve ever talked to could be in danger!”

A soft calming weight settled against his shoulders causing Peter to look up into the comforting blue eyes of Pepper. He sighed, “I’m just really worried, after everything that’s happened, I was hoping for a reprieve… for everything to be normal again, even if just for a little while.”

“I know, Peter.” Pepper tucked an errant strand of hair behind the teen’s ear with a knowing smile. “I promise, we’ll get this sorted. Happy is with your aunt.” She laughed quietly at the accompanying face Peter made, before continuing. “I also have security detail keeping an eye on Ned and MJ. I promise everything will be fine. Just let me handle this.”

Peter nodded, still unsure. He wanted to believe so badly that everything would work out, but something had settled like a pit in his stomach, a sour taste coating the back of his throat. He couldn’t place were the feeling of dread was coming from but knew enough to trust the warning.

“-er?”

He looked up in confusion. “Huh?”

Pepper raised an eyebrow, repeating herself. “I asked if you needed a ride home?”

“It’ll be quicker if I swing.” He replied, slowly putting his mask back on. “Thanks for everything, Mrs. Stark.”

“Of course, Peter.” Pepper gave his shoulders a squeeze before crossing her arms and stepping back. “You know we’re here if you need us. You’re as much our family as you were Tony’s.”

Peter smiled under his mask, “Thank you, tell Morgan I said ‘Hi’.”

“I will.”

------

The orange and pink swirls of the evening had just started to give way to the incoming indigo of twilight which Peter knew would soon turn into the inky black of a faint star scattered night sky. He needed to head home, his Aunt had to be worried, he’d been dodging her texts and calls all the way back to Queens, but he was concerned with what would happen when he arrived home. He knew they would need to discuss what had happened, knew that May would do her best to try and tell him everything was going to be okay that this was just Parker Luck and they’d deal with it like they always had, but…

Everything had changed.

With a sigh of resignation, Peter reached down behind the dumpster and picked up his backpack. He pulled his mask off and shoved it into the bag before slapping the spider symbol on his chest to disengage the suit. He knew he should trust Mrs. Stark, that she would handle the situation, but he also knew that it didn’t matter. The public would believe what they wanted to, especially given that The Daily Bugle was one of the top media sources for anything hero or vigilante related. As biased as J. Jonah Jameson was, his charisma and pound the desk attitude caught people’s attention and had a way of swaying their opinions. Life would be that much harder for May and him regardless of the reasoning Mrs. Stark would use to explain away the video, the damage had been done. People would always be after him and his friends and family. Peter slipped his arms out and grabbed his shirt from his pack before pulling it on over his head with a sigh.

He and May would likely have to move again.

He kicked his legs free of the Spider-Man suit and leaned down to pick it up when the sound of a mechanical whirr caught his attention. His neck buzzed in warning, the static pulling at the hairs on his body, before he jumped forward to hide behind the dumpster narrowly missing the unknown object that had been aimed at him.

“What the…?” He really shouldn’t have been surprised that it had taken this long for someone to find him, but it was annoying, nevertheless.

Peter hesitantly peeked around the edge of the dumpster, eyes catching the glimpse of a shadowed man just standing at the entrance of the alleyway fiddling with something oddly gun shaped. Peter’s eyes flitted from the unknown man to his backpack - where his suit was haphazardly stuffed into - before looking back to the threat blocking the front of the alley.

“Okay, okay. Think, Parker.” He murmured leaning back against the gritty brick behind him, eyes staring up at the fire escape above with a quirk of his eyebrow, the small beginnings of a plan already forming in the back of his mind.

Peter leaned forward to look beyond his hiding place once more only to be caught off guard by a pair of beady eyes and the down turned smile of some middle aged looking businessman. Peter choked, an undignified yell dying on his lips, while his heart pounded a hard staccato against his chest, the sound reverberating against his ear drums and drowning out the noise around him. His eyes widened at the feeling of something gnawing at his skin, a burst of fire licking against his nerves sending the dim sunset spiraling into a dizzying nightfall around him as he fell forward into the awaiting darkness.

-----

“Was there any difficulty in capturing the asset?”

The man adjusted his rearview mirror, allowing him a better view of the unconscious teenager buckled into the backseat. Peter’s head was pillowed against the window, the orange glow of the streetlights outside casting shadows across his form as they passed by. The kids chest rising and falling in deep sleep.

The man moved the rearview mirror once more to it’s original position before answering, “No, everything went as expected.”

“We’ll be expecting you at the drop site with-in the hour.”

The man hmm’d a reply before ending the call and turning off the highway, heading out of the city and into the forested rural communities that surrounded New York.

Chapter Text

It was almost as if his heartbeat was this tangible object that he could feel pulling him towards the unknown sensation of home. He needed to follow the comforting lub-dub, needed to see what was waiting for him across the infinite red waterscape. He took a few staggering steps forward, the warm murky water sloshing around him, before something caught against his bare feet and sent him crashing to his knees with a harsh breath. He felt slow. Like everything was happening around him through a lens of sluggish comprehension.

A nagging hum started at the base of his skull; an annoying little static feeling that had the little hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention. He squinted against the feeling, something familiar niggled at his memories. He knew that the tingling sensation meant something important and, as he stared hard at the water’s surface, he willed himself to remember.

Why was this feeling so important to him?

He could almost feel a half answer form before the incomplete thought slipped through his grasp and slithered back into some shadowed recess of his mind, some quiet place just out of his reach – no matter how hard he fought to seek the arrant thought out.

He blinked against his thoughts in attempt to clear his head and as the mild feelings and half formed answers left him, the gentle lub-dub of his heart once more caught his attention. Filling him with that wonderfully warm nostalgia of home. His eyes slipped closed against the sense of being wrapped in a cozy blanket and the feel of phantom fingers running through his hair.

“You shouldn’t be here, kid. This place isn’t meant for you.”

“Mmm, but I… I like it here.” He murmured, his voice a soft croak as he leaned into the gentle caress.

“Oh, Pete. You need to wake up, Kiddo”

Peter opened his eyes – the comforting waterscape gone - and blinked slowly against a harshness that seared bright and hot into his retinas. He moaned and turned his head away from the overhead lights, only to stare owlishly at the monitors by his bedside. Their rhythmic beeping lulling him momentarily back to the red hued world of numb safety.

“He’s awake.”

He blinked hard at the flippant tone and tried to will himself to focus against the feeling of forced lethargy, unsure where exactly he was and what had happened. He squinted, trying to see the numbers on the monitor situated beside him, the muted greens and black of the screen blurring together till the monitor appeared to be completely blank. He blinked with a groan of uncertainty, unclear what had what had happened to him – a faint flash of small, gleaming eyes and the sensation of touching a live wire coursing through him – before he ended up in his current predicament.

“I thought you said you corrected the dosage for his mutated system?”

Peter rolled his eyes to stare at the masked face of some unknown medical employee above him, the persons blob of brown hair peaking out from beneath the blue of a surgical cap. Something tickled at the back of his mind, something faintly screaming at him that this wasn’t normal, he need to get out of here, his body itching.

“Well, apparently, his system processes barbiturates like water.”

He needed to move; he didn’t like being still. He hated being confined, it was too much. He didn’t want to be back under the crushing weight of a warehouse no one to save him but his own strength and will to live. His breath hitched at the thought that he wouldn’t be able to get up. He wanted – needed - to get up, he had to move!

“Heart rates increasing to 122 BPM, 02 dropped to 96 percent.”

He couldn’t understand the words in his panic. Peter shoved against gravity and forced himself into a sitting position, sucking in a deep breath when his stomach made a strong protest at the sudden change in position – the meager contents of his stomach surging hot and heavy up his esophagus before making a glorious comeback all over the periwinkle blues of the masked medical employee standing before him.

“Shit! Is he allergic to the damn meds?”

Peter could feel hands shoving at him, hands doing – tugging at something at his wrist – and fingers pushing against him to lay back; but he was up, and he’d like to keep it that way. Sitting up was good, it made him feel better despite his stomachs earlier objection. He slapped against the forcible hands, smacking them away in fervor. He wanted May. May always made him feel better when he was sick, her burnt soup and warm cinnamon tea always worked wonders for a queasy stomach. He shoved, staring wide eyed as the man with the pushy hands sailed back into the monitor and crashed to floor in a heap. Peter stared in wonder at his fingers, wiggling them in amazement, he had strong little digits! He laughed quietly at the waggling little extremities.

God, he felt weird.

“Get the Midazolam!”

Peter turned at the shout, barely having a chance to process the words before a burning cold slithered up his arm, icy tendrils of frigid lassitude seemingly wrapping around his consciousness and pulling him under with a shiver.

----

Something was pounding against the back of his eyes with such a dedicated force that Peter was sure his skull was going to crack against the onslaught. He blinked against the pain and rolled over slowly onto his side, eyes squinting against the shadows that seemed to loom across the small space. He took note of the barren room, save a small walled off section that seemed to lead to the private amenities of his accommodations, while a glass front gave him a clear view of the softly lit hallway just beyond his confinement.

A shaky hand found its way to his forehead, a catheter smacking him in the nose. Ugh. Peter’s eyes crossed as he focused on the slightly transparent tube with disgust, eyes trailing the line as it wound away from the port in his hand to it’s home attached to a bag of saline solution – at least, he seriously hoped that’s all it was - above him.

A pitiful sound made it’s way from him as Peter gently pushed himself up into a sitting position, hands gingerly covering his eyes in an inane attempt to quill the pounding headache. He silently wondered if this was what a hangover felt like and then questioned how Mr. Stark had always dealt with feeling like the entirety of Midtowns Marching Band was playing a grandstand in the confines of his skull.

“I do apologize for yesterday. My medical staff is usually not so incompetent.”

Peter startled at the sudden intrusion, staring dumbly at the tall, stocky man dressed in a pair of black scrubs and white lab coat, clipboard in one hand pen in the other. He wondered if the man had always been in the room or if he had suddenly appeared out of thin air.

“I did not mean to scare you. It appears we started off on the wrong foot.” Tall and Stocky placed the pen on the top of the clipboard and extended his hand in greeting. “My name is Dr. Gabriel and I would like to welcome you to the Life Foundation.”

“What… the what?” Peter’s whispered, his head tilted in confusion.

Dr. Gabriel cleared his throat and retracted the offered hand to straighten the lapel of his lab coat. “I sincerely hope we can be amiable friends during your stay with us, Peter. I would like to make your time here as pleasant and comfortable as we can manage, but that only works if you cooperate with us.”

This had to be a dream. This was some crazy illusion, it had to be! Didn’t it? Peter closed his eyes and tried to focus on his Spidey-Sense but nothing was pinging, his body wasn’t reacting to any perceived threat. Of course, it could just be nothing was more threatening than the pounding in his head at that moment. God, if he could just think without the pummeling of achy fire in his brainpan he could focus better.

“I do hope you realize the importance of your stay with us. I have breakfast arriving in a few moments and then I would like to draw some more blood samples, I feel that…-“

Peter drowned out the rest of what the man was saying in favor of curling his knees up to his chest to rest his aching forehead on.

Chapter Text

“How are the preliminary tests?”

Dr. Gabriel glanced up from the microscope at the sudden intrusion. “Mr. MacVay, uh, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

A man in his early forties entered the room with a wink, a smile creeping across the man’s well-groomed face revealing a set of splendid white teeth. “Just checking on your progress, so how are things?”

“Everything looks very promising.” Gabriel moved back from the microscope to allow his visitor a chance to study the stratified squamous cells obtained from Peter and how it interacted with the poorly conditioned sample from their patient. “The constituents obtained from Mr. Parker and the samples we retrieved from Drake are interacting phenomenally. It’s honestly quite remarkable.”

Gabriel watched as MacVay bent down to stare into the microscope before explaining, “The closest science has even come to this type of fabrication is biomaterial surfaces with biometic, nanofibrillar topographies which, under the right conditions, can facilitate the formation of functional epithelium; but even then, we have to have a hyrdrogel base to propagate epithelial cell proliferation. Mr. Parker’s mutation is leaps and bounds ahead of tissue engineering.”

MacVay’s slender well-manicured hand gently turned the dial on the microscope with intrigue while questioning the doctor, “Is what we propose possible, though? Can his healing factor be duplicated and reintroduced into another with minimal difficulties?”

“As it stands right now?” Dr. Gabriel paused rubbing his red rimmed eyes in thought, “It’s possible. However, we’d need to test against live parameters. And then there’s the complication of organ diversity. We’d have to develop specific solutions for the epithelial layers of each target organ and that’s not even taking into account the in vivo characteristics of epithelial cells. Uncharted territory and all that.”

The casual way MacVay leaned back from the microscope and the up tic of the man’s mouth had Dr. Gabriel licking against the dryness of his own, the man before him oozed a kind of smarmy confidence that reminded him of a villainous cartoon character. He hated the way the man’s languid movements sent a queasy feeling through him, how he mentally cringed against the hard clap on his shoulder as MacVay passed by him. They worked for the same organization but it always felt like they were working towards two separate goals - his for the betterment of man and the gentlemen’s before him was anyone’s guess.

“Well, then... Let’s get you that live test, ya?”

Dr. Gabriel cautiously smiled at the words, hesitantly nodding.

-----

Peter pursed his lips as he stared at the foam splint on his forearm, his plush reward for having removed his IV port previously. He gently poked at the wrapped appendage with annoyance. The bright ungodly yellow of the foam a visual reminder to leave it alone or else. He pulled hesitantly at the Velcro, the krtsch sound echoing loudly in the mostly barren room and causing Peter to look up in caution at the door, waiting for some magical medical technician or his ever favorite Doctor to suddenly appear.

After a few beats, when no one showed, Peter tore off the last two straps holding the foam snuggly against his skin and watched in mild satisfaction as the eye sore fell away leaving the IV line to glare mockingly up at him. He narrowed his eyes at the port and hesitantly started to pick at the edge of clear tape pressed tightly against the cannula.

“Didn’t we just have this conversation?”

His head snapped up so fast, that the room shifted around at the sudden movement before seeming to settle back into place. Doctor Gabriel stood innocently by the door to his room. He swore the man could double as a ninja as quiet as he continued to be whenever he entered. It weirded Peter out. He eyed the man wearily, noticing that the ol’ doc kept his right hand conveniently concealed behind his back. A warning feeling niggled at him, he didn’t like not being able to see both of the man’s hands. “Didn’t we already bother each other enough to last both our lifetimes?”

The Doctor sighed heavily shifting his stance, as if the reply had placed an added weight onto his shoulders and he needed to adjust for it, “Peter, I promise we only have the best of intentions with everything we do here. Your contributions to science will b-“

“Quit coddling the child, Gabriel.”

Peter turned at the slick timbre - a tall debonair man dressed in a sleek navy blue suit appeared at the door to the room, the man’s features giving the impression that he was too perfect, almost unnaturally flawless and the fluidity of the man’s movements, as he made his way to stand behind Dr. Gabriel, had Peter side eyeing him warily. There was just something off with the man that didn’t sit well with him.

“MacVay-“Gabriel started, exasperated.

MacVay, Peter noted, seemed only too happy to ignore his co-worker and continue on, “Peter, it’s truly great to finally meet you but let me make one thing abundantly clear, your purpose here is to help with our research whether that is willingly or drugged to the gills and completely complacent is rather up to you.”

Peter bit his tongue to stop the retort that threatened to make its way past his lips, he swallowed against his desire to make a smartassed comment and turned his attention to the floor. If he wanted out of here, he’d have to be a good little patient for the moment, there was no way he could make an escape high on barbiturates and hallucinating. He would play his part until a means of escape presented itself, or the calvary arrived. Surely, May had realized something was wrong by now? He wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been here, most of the first part of his little welcome was a giant blur of pain and sickness but surely it couldn’t have been more than a couple of days? Someone had to be looking for him by now. He just needed to bide his time.

MacVay smiled, perceiving Peter’s silence for submissiveness and not the calculating quiet that it actually was. “See, Gabriel, no need to sweet talk the lad, he knows when he’s lost. Now, onto more important matters.”

Peter glanced up to see a sour expression cross the good ol’ docs face, he pursed his lips in thought, an idea starting to form after witnessing the whole good cop, bad cop routine. Gabriel, he decided, would be his best bet on escaping. He just needed to show him what a very scared kid he was.

“-nderstand?”

Peter nodded, not even sure what had just been said or what he was agreeing to but watched Gabriel pocket whatever he had been hiding in his hand. So it must have been the answer they were looking for.

-----

“Any word?”

Pepper squeezed her eyes closed at the somber expression and slight shake of the head from Happy. “God, he wouldn’t run.” She stopped and ran a hand through her hair, “Would he? He isn’t that impulsive, right?”

Happy took a deep breath and scrubbed at his tired eyes. “Honestly? May and I have had this conversation a lot these past few days and she seems to think if Peter thought it would protect everyone, he’d go to ground.”

Blue eyes turned heavenward with a mental curse that would do her late husband proud. Pepper had to blink against the burn in her eyes, she knew she wasn’t Tony, knew Peter didn’t have the same trust in her that he had in his former mentor, but she had thought she and Peter had grown closer over the months. She had hoped that he had come to trust her just as he had Tony, but it appeared the kid would rather go into hiding than let her help him…

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Miss Boss?”

“Is Peter’s suit still offline?”

“Both the nanofiber Spider-suit and the Iron-Spider are currently inactive and offline.”

“And you pulled the Baby Monitor footage.” Happy questioned.

Pepper put her hands on her hips with a sigh. “First thing I did. He disengaged his suit in an alley in Queens, few blocks from his apartment.” She tapped her fingers against her hip in thought.

“Pepper?”

“If you were a super powered teenager,” Pepper turned towards Happy with an exhale, “and you thought the world was after you, why would you take your suit off before disappearing?”

Happy shrugged a shoulder, “Probably thought he’d be less noticeable.”

“Maybe,” Pepper started, turning to stare out the window of her office. The suit would offer him protection and access to Karen – the suits AI - that would help him survive, it just seemed unlikely to her that in the few days since Peter had disappeared he hadn’t once put the suit on. She’d pulled the Baby Monitor footage before and noticed Peter wore the suits mask while he did homework for God’s sake. Something was off about the whole situation and as she stared out across the city skyline she had to wonder, “Where are you, Kid?”

-----

“It’d be easier if you were out, Peter. Even with a local this will hurt. I have to go to through the full thickness of the dermis to affect the deeper tissue to get the results I need.” Doctor Gabriel tried to reason, hypodermic needle poised at Peter’s IV port.

He didn’t want to be put out anymore, he was tired of drugs and if his feel sorry for the kid plan was going to work, he wanted Dr. Gabriel to witness the harm the tests were causing. He needed to make the man feel – to put it plainly – like crap at being the world’s worst medical professional. “I’m behaving. I thought that meant you weren’t going to drug me anymore?”

Doctor Gabriel set the needle down on the bedside tray with a put-upon sigh. “Unnecessarily, yes; but, there’s no reason to cause you any undue pain. We’re attempting to further science, not torture people needlessly.”

Peter flicked his gaze towards the observation window of the lab, taking note at the expression of indifference on MacVay’s face. “Maybe you think that.”

The Doctor followed Peter’s gaze before moving to obstruct the slick-suited man from the kids view. “Ignore him, he has no say in what goes on in this room.”

“So you keep saying.” Peter murmured and turned his attention towards his non-dominate hand with a heavy breath. He was trying to psych himself up as to what was going to happen. Reminding himself that this was all part of his plan. He couldn’t fight his way out of this facility, that was made abundantly clear on the little jaunt from his room to the lab he was currently situated in. The facility was crawling with security detail and personnel. If he wanted any chance to escape peacefully, he needed the Doctor on his side and if that meant taking a little bit of a beating, then he’d deal with it… he would… he totally, 100% would. Peter clinched his eyes closed as the doctor administered a local anesthetic into his forearm. He swore he could faintly hear MJ calling him an idiot somewhere in the background of his mild panic.

“Now, Peter, I’m only going to be testing one spot on your arm as I don’t know the limit of your healing but from earlier quantitative analysis, I would think your system should easily recover from this.”

Easily recover, easily recover. Peter kept mentally repeating the mantra, his breath coming out in short, shaky puffs. His brain distantly heard the click of an acetylene torch before the intense feeling of pins and needles engulfed his forearm, his hands clenching in panic and the knee-jerk reaction to move away but he couldn’t. He fought to move, his watery eyes catching sight of MacVay in the observation window. Peter couldn’t be for sure if it was the searing pain in his arm causing a slight hallucination, but he swore there was a shadow curling around the man’s neck, an oily scarf looking thing that appeared to undulate, as though the shadow was a living entity.

“Almost there, Peter, you’re doing so well.”

The glowing red from his periphery caught his attention as the fiery color began to bleed and mix with the room, coating everything it touched in a deep muddy orange and glowing magenta, the faint sound of water lapping against objects unknown pulled at his consciousness, welcoming him to its numbing shores. Peter blinked against the feeling of fatigue, not wanting to pass out but feeling the sensation steadily creep up on him. His eyes fluttered against the lull, trying and failing to focus on the greasy-black scarf winding around MacVay’s neck before the shimmering colors of dusk and its tepid waters had the waking world fading away.

Chapter Text

“Are you going to sleep forever?”

Peter’s lashes fluttered at the soft childlike voice, a whine of exhaustion escaping him when small hands shoved roughly against his thigh. He swatted against the annoying push, brown eyes peaking open to take in the soft reds and hushed pinks casting vaguely distorted shadows around him, a slight feeling of déjà vu floated over him before he remembered the phantom sting of fire encompassing his left arm. Peter shot up – the unknown child jumping back - and clutched his forearm tightly, eyes wide in panic.

“You’re weird.”

Peter whipped around, an alertness in his eyes that had the small child before him frowning in concern, her tiny hands lightly clasping his shaking forearm and cupping his white knuckled grasp. “You’re okay now, you know? It’s very unsettling to wake here but no one can hurt you anymore.”

“I…” Peter swore he had whiplash from the shift in atmosphere. He had to be dreaming, a sort of delusional safe space to help him cope with the stress of his current predicament.

“My names Gamora.”

Where’s Gamora, Who’s Gamora, Why’s Gamora. The quiet echo had Peter quirking his head as he took in the child before him trying to reconcile the woman he’d fought beside with the girl standing beside him. “Starlord’s Gamora?”

Gamora’s eyes lit up at the mention of the name. “Quill’s okay?”

“He…he’s fine? I think he and Thor went looking for, um, well, you?”

Gamora put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips in annoyance, “But I’m here, he can’t find me out there.”

“Not you, you – the other you?” Peter awkwardly tried to explain, clearing his throat.

“I’m dead, there is no other me.” The indignant tone and the angered look on Gamora’s face had Peter pressing his lips tightly together afraid he might accidently tell the tiny fighter how adorable she looked right now with her puffed out cheeks and angry glare.

“Well, see, you’re actually not…well, wait, okay you are but not the other you.” Peter closed his eyes, his head aching as he tried to put what he wanted to say in some sort of comprehensible narrative but not sure how to explain the last five years when he himself still didn’t understand half of what had actually went on. “See, there was this time heist and-…”

“Did you damage your brain before you died?”

The bluntness of the question stopped Peter in his explanation, mouth half open in shock as his brain seemed to finally process the girls words. “I’m not… dead?”

“Everyone here is dead, through one mean or another.” Gamora clarified, frowning. “There is no other way to cross into the Soul World except through death of wanting the soul stone or by use of the soul stone.”

Peter swallowed against the lump that was starting to form in his throat, he wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be. God, but what if he was? The notion stole the breath from his lungs. What if he had died on the stupid gurney, tied down, his skin burning. He shook his head in denial, he’s almost sure – like 80/20 - he didn’t but as he looked around him, the sentimentality of the landscape seemed to scream ominous afterlife to him. A wistfulness overcame him as he realized that he’d be okay with staying in this ever present sunset and never leaving it’s comforting shallow waters. It was so peaceful here, a numbing serene that made it easy to forget the real world.

Peter turned to Gamora at the slight hitch in her breath, a broad and disproportionate shadow settling over her, darkening the green of her skin.

“Gamora, hush.”

A pressure settled hard and real against his shoulders, his ears burning at the familiar throaty reprimand while his heart fluttered painfully. He didn’t want to turn around, too afraid that this wasn’t real, and everything would crumble around him.

“Pete, you need to go home.”

Peter couldn’t. Not before he laid eyes on the one man he’d never thought he’d see again. Peter closed his eyes and with a quick breath of courage he turned to open them - the blurry lights of the lab greeting him.

He hated the sob that escaped him upon realizing that the comforting weight on his shoulders hadn’t been real. Couldn’t stop the tears when he realized the ghostly rumble of Mr. Stark’s voice was most likely nothing more than a dream. He couldn’t do this. This was worse than the annoying ache in his arm from Gabriel’s experiment. This was reminiscent of some deranged mind game Mysterio would create; and, wouldn’t that be the kicker? That none of this was real, that everything was just another illusion designed to keep him busy while Mysterio continued on in his fallacies.

He couldn’t stay here, he needed out. Needed to prove to himself that this was real, that he wasn’t a pawn in some messed up head game. Peter pulled against the reinforced Velcro straps holding him to the gurney, ignoring the biting pain as the fibers of the restraint stretched and tore. He didn’t know how long he would be alone and that fear of someone coming back fueled his desire and was the push needed to rip through his bindings.

Shaky hands pushed against the gurneys sweat soaked sheets as Peter managed to stand on trembling legs. He rubbed against his eyes and tried to control his breathing in hopes of soothing his erratic emotions, willing himself to calm down. Peter sniffled and turned to look at the observation window, taking note that the room appeared dark and empty except the faint glow from a computer monitor. With a hiccup he turned to the door of the lab and pushed away from the gurney in surprise when he noticed that the door appeared to be slightly ajar.

Peter glanced back towards the gurney and the observation window in caution, waiting for Gabriel or that creepy-MacVay to suddenly pop out. After a few moments, when nothing happened, Peter sniffed once more and slipped out the door.

----

May rested her forehead against the counter, her tired eyes taking in the dark green flecks of lord only knew what splattered across the top of her shoes. Three days, three damn days and she had no idea where Peter was.

Her hands curled in hot anger, the feeling constricting her chest, she squeezed her eyes closed as the sensation built making it harder to breath, she needed, just needed…

May stood with a scream of frustration grabbing her long since cold coffee and threw it at the TV, chest heaving as she watched the mug crack the screen before the TV crashed to the floor.

May sniffed and pressed a clammy hand to her forehead, eyes closed against the lightheadedness that hit her after the sudden outburst. She hated this. She hated this whole damned superhero business. She had tried to be supportive of Peter, had listened when he told her that it wasn’t Tony damned Stark’s fault that he took up the Spider-Man mantle, that the billionaire had actually made it safer for him to patrol the streets, but it was just so much easier to have someone to blame for this whole mess who couldn’t fight back. If it wasn’t for Tony, her son wouldn’t be out there in the world – hiding – because some disgruntled and disillusioned former Stark Industries employee had decided to frame Peter for the destruction caused in London.

The shrill ring of a phone broke through May’s thoughts, startling her, it was the apartments landline, the echo of Peter’s laugh as she bought the stupid corded phone haunting her footfalls as she made her way to the phones cradle; but, if the cell towers went down she wanted to make sure the two had a means of contacting one another.

May picked up the phone with a choked hello.

Static resounded from the speaker.

“Hello?” She questioned with a furrowed brow.

“No, no please, I just need to-!”

“Peter!?” May shouted, heart hammering in a strange combination of fear and relief at the scared shout from her son. “Pete, Sweetie, what’s going on, where are you?”

“Get off, no, don…MAY!”

“Peter!?” May gripped the phone tightly, eyes wide as a dial tone met her concern.

Quivering fingers pressed the switchhook down fervently, trying to make the dial tone disappear so she could hear Peter’s voice again. “Pete, Honey!?”

“Shit!” She exclaimed slamming the phone down hard into its cradle. May picked the phone back up after taking a moment to collect herself, deft fingers dialing the number she had come to know by heart over the summer.

“H-Happy?”

-----

“You can’t do this, please!” Peter begged jackknifing against the rough hands holding him down to the floor, “You don’t understand!”

“Oh, I understand very well, Peter.” MacVay whispered into Peter’s ear, staring knowingly up at the two people currently holding the boy in place. “See, I’m a tactician, I have plans for every eventuality and I knew given the chance you’d run.”

Peter swallowed, eyes tracking MacVay as he stood, towering over him. “And, I’m afraid I can’t let anything happen to you until I have what I need.”

“Yeah and what’s that?”

Dark veins slowly crept up MacVay’s neck, spindly little tendrils of dark oil slithering over his skin as the man smiled, his lips parting to reveal a set of sharpened teeth, reminiscent of a shark. “Oh, Lad. A smart man never reveals his plan.”

MacVay winked before turning to leave the room. “Take him the long way back to his room. I think Peter may do with an insight into what will happen if he doesn’t abide.”

Chapter Text

“May-…”

“I just keep thinking, if someone took Peter, they had to have known who he was before this whole crazy ex-employee revenge what-the-hell-ever happened, right?”

Happy watched worriedly as May continued to throw books off shelves, shove over furniture, and all but destroy the small apartment in search of proof. “May, maybe we could just-.”

“There has to be something. They waited for the perfect moment and knew exactly where he was, there has to be…” Her words drifted off, mind working overtime as she quickly left the living room and made her way to Peter’s bedroom narrow gaze focusing on the container housing the Iron-Spider suit.

“May, wait…” Happy tried again to halt her frantic actions before she did something silly like smash open the Iron-Spider casing. Happy winced at the sound of breaking glass, eyes rolling heavenward seeking some sort of divine intervention but when none appeared, he decided it would be up to him to keep May from demolishing everything. Hands up in a placating gesture, Happy hesitantly worked his way around the scattered clothes and textbooks to kneel beside May.

“May, sweetie?”

At the hushed tone May looked up from her inspection of the metal housing for Peter’s suit to see a somber expression on Happy’s face. She sniffed and looked down at her hands, blinking away the tears that had started to form. “There has to be something…”

“I know, I know. And we’ll find it,” Happy said as his warm hands gently encompassed Mays with a squeeze of reassurance. “but we need to be smart about this, okay?”

“Happy, he’s my kid.“ May whispered voice cracking ever so slightly. “He’s in trouble and I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

Not sure what to say, Happy pulled May close and hugged her slender form tightly against his chest, his hand lightly cupping the back of her head as his other rubbed soothing circles across her back. He slowly rocked the two of them back in forth trying to help calm May’s shaken nerves. He had been so worried earlier after Mays hectic phone call about Peter and the trouble it had sounded like he was in. It was times like these that Happy hated that he himself wasn’t a superhero. Wasn’t able to put on some fancy high-tech suit or take some magic serum so he could save the day. Hated that it crossed his mind that if Tony had been here, he would have known something had happened to the Kid five minutes after he’d been taken.

Happy softly kissed May’s temple, “We’ll figure this out May, I swear to you, we will.”

-----

“You’re an arrogant ass!”

MacVay smiled leisurely, setting the folder he was inspecting down and staring up at Gabriel. “Am I supposed to feel insulted at such honesty?”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes as the smarmy prick leaned against the desk. “That boy was not to be harmed. Those were the orders.”

MacVay crossed his arms with a thoughtful look before replying, “I think the torch you took to the lads arm would suggest our orders are very much open to interpretation.”

“That’s different!” Gabriel scoffed, “You are needlessly bullying him, he-“

“Tried to make a run for it. I am here to make sure everything goes according to plan. The board of directors are very much awaiting the completion of this testing so we can move forward.” MacVay explained, pushing off from the desk to stand to the side of the Doctor. “You playing Florence Nightingale is doing nothing but taking up time. Time of which is detrimental to the progress of our patient.”

Gabriel swallowed thickly as he stared at his associate through his periphery, his courage from earlier slowly leaving at the close proximity. “He’s just a kid-.”

“In that you are correct.” MacVay interrupted in agreement, “He is just a kid and that’s why the quicker we obtain the information we need the sooner we can let the poor lad go home.”

A sharp pat to his shoulder had Gabriel wincing at the action. “I won’t cause any undue harm, there are better ways.”

“Better to rip the Band-Aid off and all that.” With one more sharp pat to Gabriel’s shoulder, MacVay headed towards the door of his office with a wave. “Just remember you’re only here because of your expertise, if you can’t do the job, I’m sure we can find someone more appropriate.”

Gabriel deflated at that. He could read between the lines, do his job or the board would find someone who would get the results they wanted with less morals. He rubbed his eyes with a groan. Rip off the Band-Aid… right.

----

Peter prodded the split in his lip with a grimace. Stupid overpowered mindless security people… He leaned gingerly back against the wall, shoving the pillow from his bed behind his lower back to help ease the soreness – and probably bruises – there. He closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand through his hair before he carefully pulled his legs up to his chest, hugging them close so he could rest his cheek against his knees, eyes starring up at the ceiling.

He blinked tiredly but refused to sleep, too afraid he’d wake back up in that weird world with its never ending sunset and numbing waters. He rubbed his nose against his pant leg, the faint hum of the air conditioning creating a calming white noise.

He wondered if May was okay. He had hoped that MacVay and his lackies hadn’t realized his aunt had answered the phone. Hoped they assumed he’d been unable to complete the call. With a sniff, Peter listened as the vent above him clicked before turning itself off. Brown eyes fixated on the grate above as he warily came a standing, hand pressed against the wall to steady himself. He glanced at the blinking red light of the rooms security camera, the vent to the air conditioner was to the side and set back just a little from the security camera – a blindspot, he realized. He fought the smile that threatened to form at the notion that if he did this correctly, he could get in the vent and start mapping a way out without alerting security.

Excited at having something to do, Peter made his way to the front of the room, eyes on the security camera to make sure it didn’t follow his movements before he looked out the acrylic glass that made up the front of his room, checking to make sure no one was in the hallway.

When no one magically appeared he cautiously began making his way up the wall and to the vent, where he made quick work of prying the grate away before slipping into the duct with a rush of hope.

----

May set the stack of books down onto the coffee table, eyes trailing the worn copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. She smiled against the memories of tucking Peter in late at night and reading the exciting story to the little tike. Back before superheroes, and Ironman, took over Peter’s interests the magic of Hogwarts and the students adventures there had been enough excitement for them. May longed to return to such a simpler time, when the worst she had to worry about were skinned knees and the occasional Lego piece in a bodily orifice it shouldn’t be in.

She reached forward, careful of the broken ceramic pieces of her mug, to pick up the TV when the faint flashing of a tiny blue light caught her attention. Cocking her head curiously, May made her way over to the framed picture of her, Peter, and Ben from the Stark Expo a few years back. Little Peter grinning from his precarious spot on Ben’s shoulders – Peter’s little Ironman mask pushed up onto the crown of his head – while May smiled happily, one of her arms tightly around Ben’s shoulders and the other holding onto Peters tiny hand.

“What the-…” She trailed off, hands taking the photo down and flipping the fame over. “Are you kidding me?” She ripped the small button looking object off the back of the frame and held it up to the light, little blue light pulsing.

“I called Pepper, she’s trying to get ahold of the babysitter and then… May?”

May turned towards Happy, eyes wide as she held the tiny object in her hand. “Is this what I think it is?”

Happy picked his way through the messy apartment and gently took the item from her hands, the tiny round object sitting innocently in his palm. “It’s a listening device.”

“No, it’s a start. You can do your whole,“ May waved her hands in lieu of words, “and find out who it belongs to, right?”

“Tony had a pretty good data base of tech suppliers, I mean, it’s possible, but...”

May shook her head, “But?”

“May there are thousands of these made and sold every day. I’m sorry, but the chances of finding out who bought this are extremely low.”

“So, what?” She started voice raising in anger, “We’re not even supposed to try?”

“I didn’t say that.” Happy placated, taking a deep breath before choosing his words wisely, “I just meant, it might take a while to track down the owner.”

“Then we better start looking.”

----

Peter stopped above the first grate he came across with light shining through. It felt like he’d been shimming his way through the duct work for hours and if the sweat dripping from his hair and neck was anything to go by, it most likely had been. He leaned over the grating and stared cautiously into the room, taking note of the unconscious man in sweats on the gurney hooked up to varying equipment that beeped at odd intervals and the strange looking cylinder on the far left of the room containing an oddly familiar greasy black substance that seemed to ripple against the glass of the container.

“What the what?” Peter questioned, hunkering back a bit from the grate upon hearing voices enter the room.

“And how are things going?”

Peter couldn’t help the flinch at the voice, he’d know MacVay’s stupid tone anywhere. He peeked the best he could around the slates of the grate trying to get a better look at who MacVay was talking to but the only thing he could see were a pair of heels and the white of a lab coat, the persons face obscured from view by their long dark hair.

“Progressing well, as far as I can tell we’ve extracted all of the uhm, offspring, and all but two have found suitable hosts.”

“Offspring.” Peter whispered, watching as the oily liquid in the container seemed to react violently at the mention of the word.

“Splendid, My Dear.”

He couldn’t help the shiver of worry that made its way through him as MacVay sauntered over to the unconscious man. “All that hard work, for what? Humanity?”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh had Peter trying to angle himself to get a better look.

“As if the human race is anything more than an endless supply of food. When we have acquired all we need and our brethren arrive? You will be made an example of, you and your rotting meat bag.”

He watched as MacVay and the unknown medical employee walked from the room. Peter waited a few moments before double checking that the space was truly empty. He weighed his options briefly before shoving against the grate and dropping down into the room with a wince of pain, his back still sore from his earlier rough treatment.

He quietly made his way over to the bed, taking note of the man’s dark hair sticking up in a multitude of directions and the faint whiskers of facial hair casting a shadow over the man’s features. He looked at the assortment of monitors beside the guy’s bed, eyes focusing on the bag hanging from the IV pole with a knowing sigh.

“Seems you decided to take the drugged to gills option.” He mused, softly.

A shrill screech erupted behind him, causing Peter to turn quickly – heart hammering – as he looked towards the source - the black grease struck the container of glass, spindly tendrils slamming against the confines.

Peter inched his way forward, inspecting the moving liquid wearily. “Are you like the thing with MacVay?”

At the mention of the name, the unknown substance reared back before slamming against the container vehemently, a nasally shriek reverberating from its prison.

“Ven…mmmm?”

Peter turned at the quiet whisper, the monitors beside the man starting to make odd high-pitched beeping sounds.

“Ven-uuummm.”

Peter started forward when he noticed the man’s eyes flutter only to halt when he heard a commotion from out in the hallway. Peter glanced from the stranger on the bed to the crazy anthropomorphic liquid in the container and finally the vent. He didn’t want to leave the poor guy; but he knew if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to help him at all if he was caught. He made a mental promise that he’d be back before quickly climbing back into the safety of his vent.

Chapter Text

Gabriel, under the watchful eye of MacVay, administered the small amount of synthesized serum he’d managed to produce from Peter’s blood and epithelial cells into the IV of their bandaged patient.

“How long?”

“Depends.” Gabriel stated, capping the needle and discarding it. “With this just being a trial I won’t know what systems are affected until I run a few tests but with the earlier observation of Mr. Parkers healing, it seems minor wounds, depending on the trauma to the dermis, take a few minutes to hours to heal, major wounds – such as the burns that Mr. Drake here has sustained – will take hours to even start the process of muscle and tissue regeneration.”

MacVay ran a hand over his chin in thought, eyes scanning the multitude of screens for signs of distress. “Hours.” He hissed in annoyance.

“Science takes time.” The doctor tried to reason, staring intently at the monitors and trying to ignore the heat he could feel radiating from the other man’s gaze. Gabriel watched the steady up tic and down tic of the heart monitor before turning to the EEG machine taking note of the endless movement of the needle, showing the continual lack of awareness.

“I have other projects to attend to,” MacVay announced, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “As soon as the most miniscule change happens, I want to be notified, understood?”

Gabriel nodded, eyes tracking the man as he made his exit before turning back to Drake and gently unwrapping the medical dressings from his patients arms, grimacing at the blackened and necrotic skin underneath. “I just hope for all our sakes, this works. MacVay doesn’t seem like one to take failure gracefully.”

-----

“What do you think?” Peter questioned with a raised brow from his position on the floor, the gurney conveniently hiding him from view of anyone curious enough to peek in on him and his new unconscious friend.

When steady beeping of the monitors was the only response he received, Peter leaned back against the wall with a sigh. “Yeah, me too.”

Peter rubbed at his chest trying to ignore the sting from the red puckered skin hidden beneath the scrub top he was wearing. The wounds from another wonderful experiment at the hands of Gabriel, apparently wanting to understand how his body would deal with deep lacerations. Peter blinked against the ghost of the scalpel brushing over his skin and the phantom sting that accompanied. He had hated the kind words and gentle tone of Gabriel while the man sliced through the skin of chest and the soothing hand the man ran through his hair while Peter bit at his lip too afraid to pass out for fear of winding back up in the wonderful world of red numbness that seemed to plague his subconscious. He was never more grateful than when his healing factor had kicked in and began the slow process of knitting everything back together and tediously closing the cuts.

He let his hand fall with a sigh. God, he hated this place.

Peter turned his focus to the glass container housing the undulating black mass, thoughts shifting away from earlier that day and the horrors it had brought. He wasn’t sure what to make of the creature. He assumed it must be sentient on some level because it seemed to understand what was happening around it. He also noticed that the creature seemed particularly livid anytime someone neared the man on the gurney with less than good intentions. Making him wonder if there was a connection between the two, if there was, it would make sense to keep the two together. It always did well to have leverage, Peter guessed.

“I made it to the lobby last night.” Peter said, turning his attention back to the gurney. “It’s about eight rooms down. I’m almost sure that I can find an outside entrance before the end of the week, depending.”

At least he hoped. So far, from what he could tell, the only time this place seemed mostly empty was late at night, a skeleton crew the only personnel he’d seen walking about on his past few nightly jaunts. So, if he could map a way to an outside entry point and make a run for it, hopefully he’d be able to call the calvary before anyone knew he was missing.

A sudden sound from across the room had Peter hunching back against the wall as best he could, he hated that his Spidey-sense seemed to be completely useless in this place. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was constantly on alert or something else altogether, but it kept failing him.

“Are you sure?”

Peter peeked over the edge of the gurney, taking in the two female medical technicians in maroon scrubs making their way towards him. Crap…

“He seemed to think so.”

Quietly as he could, Peter slowly sunk down to lie on his back as the two employees came closer. There wasn’t much room between the bottom of the gurney and the floor but did his best to slide under, squeezing his eyes closed to make himself seem smaller as the footsteps stopped right beside his head.

“Sorry to hear that. But you can do better than some dumbass bartender anyways.”

There were a few loud beeps to his left before the whirring of a blood pressure cuff expanding filled the quiet of the room, the noise seemingly too loud and irritating.

“Vitals look good, Eddie. You seem to be doing well since your last round of chemo.”

Peter blinked his eyes open at that, Chemo…?

A squeal that Peter had come to associate with the creature in the container resounded from above. He glanced at the two sets of feet as they walked away from the gurney and towards the other end of the room.

“What do you think it is?”

“Don’t know, the guy heading up the research says it’s some kind of parasite.”

An angry guttural shriek reverberated through the room at the comment, causing Peter to cover his ears as the sound seemed to shake his ear drums.

“I think you pissed it off.”

“Yeah, like that’s possible. Come on, the guys fine and this thing creeps me out.”

“Yeah, coming.”

Peter waited, breath caught in his throat, as the two medical technicians walked from the room and closed the door before he rolled out from beneath his hiding place. He stood quickly, wincing as the motions pulled at his chest, and stared down at the man on the bed.

“You have cancer?”

The frantic clattering of the creature had Peter turning and raising his hands in pacification as he shuffled towards the container. “Hey, they’re gone, and you know I’m not going to hurt him.”

Tiny needle like appendages struck the glass, still angry, almost petulant. Peter bent down, hands on his knees, gaze soft. “You must really care for Eddie, making all this commotion. Don’t worry I’m close to finding a way out, I know it, and as soon as I do, I’ll be back with help.”

----

“I had FRIDAY run the serial number on the device you found and as luck may have it, it’s nothing commercially available.”

Happy glanced up from his computer, “Don’t suppose FRIDAY was able to backtrack to the company that produced the bug?”

Pepper tapped her nose, “Turns out it’s a defunct branch of the Life Foundation.”

“The Life Foundation? Why does that name sound familiar?” Happy questioned, fingers clacking away on the keyboard and clicking the first article that popped up from his search. “Says the Life Foundation filed for Bankruptcy back in January 2019, following the death of the founder Carlton Drake.”

“Apparently they were trying to sweep all their shady medical procedures and legal claims under the rug by starting an Aeronautics Division.” Pepper explained, handing the stack of papers she’d been holding to Happy with a sigh. “Didn’t go so well, Carlton ended up dying in a botched launch attempt.”

Happy flipped through the papers, skimming the pages for any type of clue as to why a now obsolete corporation would be spying on a teenager and his aunt. “But it doesn’t make sense the Life Foundation is based out of San Francisco, why – rather how – would they even know about Peter?”

“And that’s the billion dollar question.” Pepper surmised, crossing her arms.

With a shake of his head, Happy turned his attention from the papers to the online article he had been reading, the name of the writer – Eddie Brock – niggling at some part of his brain. He knew that name, had a vague recollection of seeing it plastered on one of the thousands of newspaper articles following the attack on New York however many years ago.

“It’s a start if nothing else.” Happy murmured writing down the journalists name and exiting out of the article. “Please, don’t mention this to May,” He pleaded, standing. “At least not until we have something more concrete.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Pepper promised watching as Happy headed towards the door. “Where you headed?”

“To track down this Eddie Brock guy and see what he has to say.”

“Just be careful Happy,” Pepper called after him, “I don’t need you disappearing on me too!”

----

Gabriel frowned at the sudden sharp spike in the EEG readout. He set his clipboard down and flipped his pen over clicking and activating the light on the end, he gently lifted one of Drakes eyelids and made a noncommittal noise as he saw the man’s eyes moving rapidly back and forth signaling an increase in brain function. Gabriel quickly turned back to the EEG with a critical eye as the blue and red of the waveforms began to spike sharply, particularly in the Temporal Lobe area. He turned back to his patient as a faint smack hit him in the thigh. Drakes hands were moving upwards rigidly before slamming down onto the bed repeatedly, all the while the man blinked excessively almost as if trying to communicate in Morse code.

“Focal seizure?” Gabriel wondered aloud to himself. The man before him had been in a medically induced coma for the last five and a half years with minimal brain function, to see any type of change was a medical miracle; and all in just hours since he’d administered the synthesized serum from Peter. It was truly astounding.

Careful of the breathing tube, he leaned over Drake to get a better look at the man’s eyes – taking note that they seemed to be dilated. “Amazing.” He whispered in complete awe, leaning backwards to catch a glimpse of the EEG readout noticing the waveforms had turned into an undiscernible mess of red and blue scribbles.

Gabriel kept a watchful eye on Drake and the readout as the man continued his uncoordinated movements and rapid blinking as the seizure continued on for a few more moments before the waveforms on the EEG readout began to slow along with Drakes movements, seemingly settling down into a smooth continuous motion that signaled sleep.

“Just incredible.” Gabriel whispered double checking Drakes vitals to make sure that everything had returned to normal levels. He needed to let MacVay know that their experiment had worked. That it was possible to replicate Peter’s healing factor, that they had proof of concept! The breakthrough this would be for the medical community would be astounding. Of course, they’d need to refine and test further and there was still the problem of trying to spot treat certain areas of the body but – with a glance at the EEG readout – they had taken a patient on the brink of brain death and given him a chance.

----

“While there are always risks, the reward of your contribution will be great.” MacVay gushed with a smile, standing in front of the plexiglass door to the research lab, watching the woman inside twitch anxiously.

The unknown woman looked up from her huddled position on the floor, shivering and seemingly confused. “Puh….please, you…”

“As I promised, My Dear, all will be well.” The smile fell away as MacVay turned towards the medical technician with a nod, “Open it.”

“Opening containment.” The tech typed a command into the computer and from within the room a capsule opened releasing a matte purple goo, tiny needle-like appendages expanding from its center mass as it crawled from the container.

A scream erupted from the woman, her sweaty palms fighting for purchase as she attempted to scoot away from the creature. “Please, please, please.”

“It’s so disgusting when they beg, don’t you think?” MacVay questioned, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

The technician looked up from the computer with a stressed smile, “Sure.”

The purple goo leapt towards the woman as another loud scream tore itself from her before abruptly being replaced by rough coughing when the purple sludge jammed its way into the woman’s mouth, seemingly disappearing altogether.

“Vitals, now!”

The technician jumped at the loud shout. “Uh, yes, of course… Heart rate is 154 beats per minute and slowing, blood pressure is 146/93, 02 stats are 98 percent. Everything appears to be within acceptable ranges.”

“Fantastic.” MacVay whispered, pressing his hand against the front of the lab watching the woman writhe and contort before calming. If everything went as it should he would soon have everything he needed to launch the next phase of his plan.

“Sir?”

MacVay blinked turning towards his companion. “Yes?”

The technician pointed towards the hallway, clearing his throat. “Uh, Dr. Gabriel says he needs you in the CCU.”

Without further prompting MacVay quickly left the lab.

----

Gabriel still couldn’t get over how just a small dose could have such tremendous effect on Drake’s condition, since he’d called down to MacVay he’d been able to extubate the man – who was now breathing comfortably on his own. He was already thinking of the applications this type of treatment could mean for neurological disorders and patients who had been clinically pronounced brain dead, it would revolutionize the world of medicine.

“How is he?”

The doctor turned towards MacVay with a genuine smile of accomplishment. “It worked!”

“He’s awake?”

“Not quite, his mental capabilities have increased. He’s currently breathing on his own and his brain patterns are more inline with someone in deep sleep. He’ll most probably need several more treatments over the next few months before-.”

“Months!”

Gabriel flinched back as a blackened distortion seemed to overcome MacVay’s features before settling back into the man’s normal sly smile.

“You c-can’t overwhelm his system like that, or you could cause cardiac arrest.”

MacVay started forward his features seeming to sharpen the closer he came till he was towering over Gabriel. “I have waited long enough.”

“We have to be careful,” The doctor tried to reason, taking a deep breath against the fear crawling up his spine. “If we move too fast it could be detrimental to both Mr. Drake and Mr. Parker the amount of blood we’d have to acquire to synthesize enough serum to possible treat all the wounds would be lethal and that’s not taking into consideration the fact that Mr. Drake’s system is still just… too fragile...” Gabriel trailed off backing away hesitantly when he noticed MacVay’s arm turning black and elongating into something sharp.

“The lad has a healing factor, correct?”

“Yes…yes” Gabriel stuttered out and swallowed hard, trying his best to remain calm.

MacVay tapped the blackened appendage against the Doctors cheek with a gleaming smile. “Then find out to what degree you can go without being lethal if your so concerned for the boys wellbeing. As for Mr. Drake, I believe introducing a healing factor into his system will take care of any problems .”

Gabriel nodded slowly, eyes tracking the blade looking extremity with apprehension.

“Good, let’s hope we do not have to continue having these discussions. They are tediously annoying.” MacVay stepped back shaking his hand, the black slowly fading as the man’s arm returned to normal. “Go, hopefully by morning you’ll have good news for me.”

Gabriel could guess what the consequences would be if he didn’t have the needed results.

----

Peter dropped down onto the floor with a wince. He had made it well past the lobby and then had gotten turned around in the darkened vents and had had to turn back. He was starting to wonder if he could sneak out of the vent in the lobby without anyone noticing and make a run for it.

The quiet squeak of a shoe against the floor had Peter turning quickly – heart hammering – to see Dr. Gabriel sitting quietly on his bed. The conflicted look on the man’s face had Peter taking a cautious step back. The man had never bothered him after what passed as nighttime in the building, so his sudden appearance couldn’t be a good sign.

“Hello, Peter. Nice walk?”

Another hesitant step back. “Well, you know, just needed some fresh air…”

Gabriel nodded with a half-smile. Peter squinted at the response. He didn’t need his Spidey-sense to know something was up.

“Unfortunately,” The doctor said, standing with a heavy breath, “I have been given a deadline to produce some needed results.”

Peter definitely did not like the sound of that and the lack of reaction towards him sneaking around the vent system had the hairs on his neck rising in warning. Peter turned around to see two bulky men in scrubs standing outside his room. Which, seriously? His Spidey-sense was literal garbage in this place.

“Uh, I… I think I’d rather just stay in tonight. You know how it is, spend all day working...” The quip died on his lips as the door to his room opened and the two men made their way forward sending Peter back a couple of steps.

“Don’t make this hard Peter, our normal rules still apply. I won’t sedate you if you come along willingly.”

Peter glanced over his shoulder at the Doctor, who was now standing closer to his position hand grasping something in the pocket of his lab coat. He turned back to the hired muscle with a shake of the head. So much for all his plans of a peaceful exit. “As much fun as it’s been, being your lab rat and all, I think I’ll take my chances with the nightshift.”

Peter jumped up, sticking to the ceiling for a just a moment before shoving off and landing on the other side of the bulky aides.

“Peter, stop!”

Ignoring the shout Peter took off down the hall.

Chapter Text

Jump.

Dodge.

Left.

Somersault over the downed nursing employee.

Tuck and roll.

Peter huffed as he righted himself, right arm pressed against the still sore but mostly healed skin of his chest, his left hand swinging to keep his balance as he continued to race forward. He glanced behind him to see the two bulky men in scrubs, that he’s pretty sure never attended any kind of healthcare class in their life, were still chasing after him and slowly gaining. Crap…

He wasn’t sure what exactly his plan was other than run and hope for the best. He had a vague idea of the direction the lobby was in, but the main floor plan was not the darkened ducts he’d had mentally mapped out; that, and he never really got a good look at the facility beyond going to Gabriel’s lab – which wasn’t that far from his own room.

An angry shout sent him quickly careening to his right as something sped past him. Peter cringed as he watched one of his muscly pursuers plow into what looked like a treatment cart before crashing to the floor in a undignified heap.

“Peter!”

Peter turned at the shout, eyes wide as he noticed Gabriel pointing something gun shaped at him. With a cry of surprise, he stepped back the same time the doctor fired the weapon, ducking in panic as a small object sailed over his head and embedded itself in the fluorescent lighting above, sending sparks in every direction. Peter looked up slack jawed, the lights flickering rapidly due to the extra current from what appeared to be a taser. Holy crap…

An angry snarl brought him back to his current predicament, the other member of team bulky barreling towards him in a tackle. Peter jumped, pressing both of his hands onto the bulging man’s shoulders as he leapfrogged over the guy, turning and giving the man a good swift kick to his rear, watching with mild satisfaction as the guy crashed face first into the tiled flooring.

“Peter, that’s enough!”

Peter looked towards Gabriel, who had the taser pointed at him once more – most likely loaded and ready.

“Can we not do this? I’m tired, you’re angry, these guys -” Peter pointed to the weightlifting duo currently making their way back to their feet. “-are overworked. Lets just call it a day and reconvene the 20th of never?”

“Peter, listen to me…” Gabriel started, his voice pleading. “If you don’t come along willingly, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

“Says the bad guy with the weapon pointed at the innocent teenager.”

Gabriel looked at the taser in his hand before dropping it to his side as a show of good faith. “I’m not the bad guy here. I’m just trying to help.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, mentally laughing at the doctors idea of help. “Helping people isn’t taking them away from their home and seeing how their insides work.”

Thing 1 and Thing 2 were now back on their feet and Peter split his attention between Gabriel and then as he took a few steps back, distancing himself from Gabriel and his entourage as much as he could.

“I apologize but-.”

Peter shook his head and took off down the nearest corridor, ignoring the indignant shout echoing after him.

----

“I owe you my existence, however unintentional.” Explained MacVay, arms crossed as he stood beside the sleeping Drake. “While not bonded for long, you produced a wonderous offspring, your mind combined with my father’s brute strength and tactical ingenuity…” There was a moment of silence before he continued. “I plan to continue my father’s plan.”

He leaned against the safety railing of the gurney, gripping the metal tightly. “The Klyntar, our species, are not the benevolent beings they wish the universe to perceive them as. They wish for everyone and everything to forget the wretched deeds they have done. Want to be perceived as Universal Peacekeepers.” MacVay snarled, almost as if the phrase – universal peacekeepers – left a sour taste in his mouth. “Such ill-conceived ideals.”

He pushed away from the gurney and headed towards the monitors, delicately inspecting the man’s vital signs. “We are the species brought forth by Knull himself to maintain order through the universe, we are the fighters created from the Living Abyss to slay the Celestials and their vile offspring. Even if my brethren refuse to see this, I will show them!” MacVay exclaimed with such conviction, as if he truly believed he could sway his entire species to his views. “I will show them we are meant to rule supreme and lay waste anyone that stands defiant before us. We are the ultimate predators, everything else is chattel!”

With a deep breath, MacVay turned back towards the sleeping man. “And once you are well, I will repay my life debt.” He ran a knuckle down the side of Drakes cheek with a tenderness that betrayed his earlier anger. “You will help bring about the end of your pitiful world and the new reign of mine and my brethren. And the hive mind the keeps our species complacent, well…”

MacVay clenched his hands into fist. “we’ll extinguish-…“

“Mr. MacVay, uh, sir?”

The man in question turned to the door, glaring at the male nurse who dared interrupt him. “I presume this is important?”

The nurse cleared his throat. “Sorry, I know it’s late – or early, I guess - but, uh, you wanted me to keep you apprised of Dr. Gabriel’s project?”

At the narrowed look from MacVay the unknown nurse swallowed and hesitantly pointed behind him towards the hallway. “Well, he and his uh, patient? Are currently running through the skilled medical unit and it’s not looking good. Security is enroute but – uhm – the kid is trashing the unit and Dr. Gabriel and his assistants aren’t exactly helping, sooo...”

“Move!” MacVay growled as he shoved past the nurse. He damned well knew that Gabriel and his good intentions would screw this up. He should have removed the man when he noticed Gabriel lacked the needed detachment to carry-out necessary procedures. And now everything was in jeopardy. He needed that boy. The child’s healing factor – if properly synthesized – was the missing link he was hoping for. It could heal what his species couldn’t. It could bring a person back from what appeared to be death, and, in the future, he hoped it would be the answer for bridging the gap between a host and symbiote who couldn’t properly bond. Allowing their species to expand without fear of death.

And, now the majority of his plan was currently running amok in the facility.

----

Peter shoved the crash cart over tripping up one of the bulky aides as he jumped up onto the wall to dodge the taser lead that embedded itself into the wall inches beneath his feet. Peter huffed, his chest rising and falling rapidly with exertion. He’d been at this for the last 20 minutes, zigzagging his way through the corridors and hallways of the Life Foundation with no definite idea of where he was going. He had tried to vaguely follow the mental map he’d made of the duct system, but had become confused two turns ago and was now just trying his best to just stay ahead of Tweedle Dee, Tweedle Dumb, and Gabriel.

Peter shoved away from the wall landing roughly on his hands and knees before pushing himself up and continuing down the hall. He could already hear the heavy footfalls of his pursuers hot on his heels behind him. He glanced at the doors as he passed by trying to find one that he could utilize as a hiding spot when the air shifted behind him, he tried to dodge but ended up falling with a yell of surprise as a pair of muscly arms wrapped tightly around his knees sending him into to the tiled floor in an ungraceful heap. His arm barely catching his fall and keeping him from smacking his forehead onto the floor.

“Oh, come on!” Peter shouted in annoyance, turning to stare at the dark green eyes and red face of the aide he’d come to dub as Tweedle Dee. He shoved against the floor and rolled himself over onto his back, trying to sit up but was pushed back down as Tweedle Dee clambered to sit on his stomach.

“Just take the L and get off!” Peter shouted thrusting both his hands up and clipping the man under the chin; and as Tweedle Dee’s head jerked up at the impact, Peter reared back and barreled a fist into the man’s privates, wincing at the undignified squeak that Tweedle Dee made while slowly sliding to the floor in pain.

Peter kicked the man the rest of the way off his stomach and tiredly made his way to his feet. Was he too young to say he was getting too old for this? Because he was pretty sure this was how a geriatric felt after a long day.

“Peter!”

The shout startled him and as he turned, he was greeted to an arm full of 200 pounds of muscle as Tweedle Dumb slammed into him knocking him back and through the glass door of one of the many patient rooms that lined the hall.

Peter was almost ashamed at the strangled scream that escaped him as he landed hard on the tiled floor, his vision whiting out for just a second when his head bounced off the ground. He groaned and attempted to bring his arms up to protect his face when his attacker drove a fist into his nose, snapping his head to the right from the momentum of the hit.

“You suck…” Peter whispered, a steady flow of blood now seeping from his nostrils and coating his upper lip and chin. “…so hard.”

“Rein it in, Kid. You’re done.”

Peter scrunched his eyes closed at the declaration, the ringing in his ears making the man’s voice sound almost garbled. “Ok, boomer.”

With as much strength as he could manage, Peter quickly grasped the sides of Tweedle Dumb’s face and headbutted the man as hard as he could manage, crying out in pain from the action, as tendrils of fire raced through his skull, leaving a burning ache in their wake. But it had the desired effect, Tweedle Dumb scrambled off him grasping his head in agony.

Peter scooted across the floor, blindly reaching behind him until he found something to grab onto and leverage himself into a standing position. He blinked drowsily against the fuzziness of his vision, everything seemed to be moving lazily around him. The world tilting this way and that, almost as if he was on a boat. He was pretty sure he had a concussion, if the wavering of the rooms stationary objects was anything to go by. He swallowed thickly against his stomachs protest to expel the meager contents at the sensation. He really didn’t want to see his bland supper make a reappearance.

A loud shriek resounded from somewhere to his right. Peter turned to stare dumbly at the glass container housing the sentient black goo. “No way…” He murmured, confused. Had he really been running around the building so much that he’d somehow made it to Eddie’s room? What in the heck were the chances?

“Hey Lil’ Guy, it’s okay.” He comforted, gently making his way towards the glass container. “Promise, I won’t let anything happen to Eddie, I’ll keep these derfwads awaaaannnnggg.” Peter went rigid as the feeling of a thousand bees crawling under his skin encompassed his senses drowning out the world around him. He could swear he was talking, screaming - enough, enough, enough! But he couldn’t hear anything except a constant buzzing, couldn’t feel anything but his body seizing against the free flow current bombarding his system. He felt like he was going to die, he was so sure that his heart was going to give out at the onslaught that when the current stopped, he didn’t even feel himself falling forward, didn’t even care that the world seemed to be falling along with him.

Peter whined as the world around him faded and the sound of glass shattering and the ear-piercing shriek of something animalistic heralded him into unconsciousness.

----

MacVay quickened his pace down the hall when it dawned on him exactly where the fighting had come to a head, if anything happened to that damned symbiote and his defunct human before he was ready to dispose of them, he was going to be severely pissed. He should have shadowed Gabriel while the damned-able man finished his project. He shouldn’t have left anything to chance when he was so close. It was all just so very human of him, he supposed.

He rounded the corner, dodging a scared nursing aide as she ran for her life, before slowing to a stop at the sight of mutilated bodies and pools of red seeping across the white tiled floor. MacVay scowled, black creeping up his neck in anger as he made his way to Eddie’s room – hoping, but already knowing that the room would be empty of its long term occupants.

A roar of pure rage escaped him as he took in the empty gurney and broken containment unit. A warbled gasping echoed from somewhere beside him. MacVay turned to see a bloodied Gabriel choking and wheezing for breath, blood dripping from a multitude of deep slashes across his body.

“You!” He snarled, black encompassing his form, the muscles of his arms and chest rippling as the spindles of black seeped across his form, his mouth widening to make room for his elongated teeth.

Gabriel tried to back away, eyes dilated in fear at the sheer horror of the creature, but his hands kept slipping. He gave a wispy scream before MacVay descended on him, sharp teeth and a elongated tongue the last thing he saw before his body fell to the floor.

MacVay, or the creature formerly known as such, reared back from the mutilated man before slamming his way out of the room with a roar of anger in search of the rooms former occupants.

Chapter Text

The faint echo of glass shattering followed him into waking, the lapping of the red waters and the bleeding orange and magenta sky greeting Peter as he slowly blinked his eyes open, a hoarse groan slipped past his chapped lips upon realizing where he was. He was beginning to wonder if he had gone insane and this was his own personal delusion.

“Not insane, Youngling. Quite far from it, actually.”

Peter jerked up at the light tone, quickly coming to a stand, eyes blinking rapidly against the lightheadedness from the swift action. He shook his head, eyes focusing on the yellow robed woman standing mere inches in front of him. “Who…who are you?”

The woman ignored the question and tilted her head slightly, cherry red lips pursed in thought before saying softly. “Hopefully, you’ve decided to stay this time. A split soul is not a well one, Youngling.”

A split soul? Peter took a hesitant step back, placing a couple of feet between himself and this strange woman. “What?”

“Peter, correct?” At his hesitant nod, the woman held her hand out. “Come, we have need to speak.”

He opened his mouth to refute the woman’s offer but with a quick glance around the shallows, Peter realized he had no idea how to leave this place and no idea where he was or where to go. So, against his better judgement, he accept the proffered hand, staring in wonder at the cool touch of the woman’s hand that seemed to settle the nervous energy within his mind. Almost as if he was breathing frigid winter air, a refreshing deep breath against the heat constricting his chest.

“Come.” She repeated, leading him away.

----

Venom sniffed at the air, clouded eyes narrowing at the minute smell of earthy dew drifting faintly from his left. He turned to stare down the hallway taking in the elevator situated at the end, readjusting the weight in his arms as he took off in a run towards that elevator.

He needed to get out of the facility before the angry little child symbiote – and that’s what the thing was, nothing more than a Klyntar child bonded to a hateful human which had caused the poor things mind to warp – found them and unleashed its own ill-conceived form of justice.

Venom understood better than anyone what bonding to a species who knew nothing but hatred and sought only vile aspirations could do to a newly formed symbiote. His first bonding had been much the same, he staunchly remembered the surge of predatory satisfaction as he and his host laid waste to all that stood against them. The horrid need to continue for one more rush of endorphins to satiate the hunger that swelled deep within. They – he and his host – would have ruled absolute if not for the Klyntar capturing and imprisoning him, too afraid he would ruin the hive mind that sought to control their species. He would have rotted in prison if not for his former leader, Riot.

The elevator dinged before him, its metallic doors slowly opening and sending a tickle of irritation through Venom at the thought that someone was ruining their escape. He jumped and attached himself to the ceiling, hunkering as close as he could to make himself appear smaller as two men in tactical gear made their way out of the elevator and down the hall, guns drawn at their sides. Venom crinkled his nose at the acrid smell of fear seeping from the two humans below. He looked down at the unconscious human tucked safely against his chest, taking note of the gauntness of the man’s features. Watching for any signs of agitation or wakefulness. It wouldn’t do well for them to be discovered now. But luck appeared to be on their side, as Venom glanced down and noticed the two men were already at the end of the hall.

He watched silently as the two security guards rounded the corner before he dropped from the ceiling, a dull thud reverberating loudly against his senses. He hesitantly watched the end of the hall waiting a few scant moments to make sure that he hadn’t been heard before turning and pressing the button for the elevator. Venom had barely lifted his hand away from the button when the lights around him darkened and a brilliant red started flashing in urgency, illuminating the hallway in an eerie red.

“Not good.” Venom growled, slamming his hand once more against the elevator button, ignoring the dent his actions caused. “You trash human technology, go faster!”

No sooner had the elevator dinged it’s arrival than a blaring alarm - that would make a foghorn sound quiet - resounded around the small hallway, echoing painfully off the walls and sending shockwaves of agony through Venom; who shrieked at the earsplitting pain, black muscles and sinew rippling and wavering in an almost static appearance. The sound seemingly trying to rip him from his host.

Venom roared as he forced himself to hold on tighter to the body he was occupying and the human slowly rousing in his arms. He raised a fist and slammed it into the elevator doors, trying to force them to open so they could escape from the suffering the shrill sound was causing.

When nothing appeared to be happening, Venom turned towards the door situated off to the side of the machine, bleary eyes barely registering the sign that said stairs before he took off in a sprint slamming a shoulder into the door – crying out as the alarm seemed louder in the stairwell - his form shaking as he tried his best to hold it together, forcing himself to maintain an attachment to his host as he stumbled drunkenly up the stairs.

Venom clenched his eyes closed against the sound while hefting the man in his arms up and over his shoulder to ensure a safer grip. This whole situation, as Eddie would say, sucked major ass.

---

“Where is this place?” Peter questioned, the two of them coming to a stop in front of an octagon gazebo just randomly in the middle of the vast waters.

“This, dear Youngling,” The woman said gently letting go of Peter’s hand to wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him close to her side, “is the world contained within the remnants of the Soul Stone.”

“There’s a world within the Soul Stone?” That was so messed up.

“Of course! A whole universe held within but,” The woman started as she walked forward pulling Peter alongside her as the two came to the center of the gazebo, “a dull-witted heathen and some rather obtuse circumstances has sent our world spiraling. Upset the balance so-to-speak.”

Peter shrugged the woman’s arm and hand from him moving to stand in front of her. “What balance?”

The petite woman sighed and crossed her arms. “There is a reason the soul stone requires a sacrifice, Youngling. Devondra needs power to grant that which the barer desires most; but when a foolhardy idiot destroyed the stones, and another sought to reconcile what had been done the world you see before you was laid waste.” Peter watched silently as the woman seemed to sink into herself, her bright blue eyes taking on a darker hue, most likely matching her thoughts.

“Devondra began to act unpredictably.” She stated slowly, as if it was taking a lot of focus to get the words out. She blinked and refocused her attention back to Peter with a shake of the head. “No longer using the souls for strength but as a source of consumption.”

Peter blinked at the information, a sweat breaking out against a phantom heat. “I…I don’t understand?

“The few of us guardians that remain are working quickly to maintain and restore the balance, but it requires quite a bit of energy to recreate that which no longer exists.”

Peter quirked an eyebrow at that, “You’re trying to rebuild your world?”

“Not quite, Youngling.” The woman laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, sending a shiver of frigid cold down his spine. “The universe cannot survive without the stones. We’re working to recreate them but that requires time and energy and Devondra has become quite the glutton.”

Peter gaped, “Recreate the stones? But… Thanos destroyed them?”

“An astute observation. But I believe I – and the other guardians – have come to the realization that Devondra’s satiety problem started with the last use of the stone.”

Peter shrugged her hand from his shoulder and took a step back, a queasy feeling roiling in his stomach. “You mean, Mr. Stark?”

A nod. “A wish granted without a sacrifice placed. We can only assume it created a shortfall, tail spinning Devondra’s focus into filling the deficit it created.”

The queasiness turned into a pit in his stomach a ball of pain that had Peter rubbing against his abdomen to try and ease the ache. “But what does that have to do with…”

“You are tethered to both worlds though your soul is meant to be here, Youngling. A sacrifice to ensure a wish granted, but yet your body still breathes.” The strange woman clicked her tongue in disapproval with slow shake of her head.

Something was wrong, the ache in his stomach was spreading. “But, Mr. Stark…”

“Was thinking of you when he snapped his fingers. Unknowingly picking you out of all of the people he cared for to be the catalyst to his desire. It’s why every time you are close to the threshold you’re pulled here, and yet… Stark sends you right back.”

Peter stared down at his feet and swallowed thickly at the thought that Mr. Stark had been thinking about him before dusting Thanos and the purple grapes army of horror movie rejects. He wasn’t sure if he should feel grateful or feel awful at the notion. And he wasn’t even going to think about the idea that every time he awoke to this world, he’d been on his way out.

“But, it’s okay, Youngling.”

Cold delicate fingers lightly tilted his chin up to meet the blue eyes of the strange woman, a smile gracing her features as she gently brushed an errant curl from his forehead. “We’re going to fix it and restore balance and that starts with you.”

Peter jerked back not liking the sound of it.

The woman’s shoulder heaved as she sighed dramatically. “Devondra must be made complacent before us guardians of the stone can focus our energy on restoration and to do that we need to give her the soul that was meant to fulfill the last-“

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Peter interrupted already backing out of the gazebo, hands hugging his abdomen tightly, and eyeing the woman warily.

“Oh, Youngling. It’s not your choice.” The woman’s eyes began to sink into her skull as the inky black of her pupils began to overtake her iris’s. “Balance must be restored.”

Peter watched in horrid fascination as the woman’s features began to distort and twist into something terrible, her skin beginning to shrink and slough off giving her an almost emaciated appearance. Her mirthful smile stretched across her gums showing off her teeth, which had since taken on a ramshackled appearance.

“Yep, that’s totally normal and not at all nightmare inducing.” Peter murmured, eyes widening as he watched the skeletal figure raise a gnarled finger towards him.

“Yep, nope!” Peter shouted in denial as he turned and raced from the figure behind him.

“You won’t make it far, Peter!”

Peter shook his head ignoring the woman’s shout and continuing forward not even remotely sure in the slightest where he was headed just knowing that he needed to get away.

----

Venom huffed, the stairs in front of him wavering in and out of focus. What had been just minutes of climbing was feeling like an eternity as he put one foot in front of the other. The alarm still blaring as a ghastly annoyance through the stairwell forcing him to maintain a constant physical awareness of his connection to his host body. An irritation that made his skin itchy.

“enn…mmm?”

The faint mumble had Venom staring at the backend of the human situated on his shoulder. “Eddie?”

“’sss suuuuuss.”

“Total…suckage.” He agreed with a slight pat the man’s thigh, straining to keep one foot in front of the other. The only good that was to come out of this stupid alarm was the knowledge that it would affect his Klyntar pursuer just the same. He knew that if he could just keep a steady pace, they’d eventually make it out. He just had to keep going.

“kaaay?”

“Fantastic.” He answered leaning against the wall to try and catch a moment of reprieve. He snarled at the high-pitched alarm as if he could scare the stupid thing into shutting itself off. “Sleep it off, Eddie.” He grouched adjusting the man on his shoulder.

“mmmm….hmmm.”

A few moments passed before Vemon realized that the alarm had stopped and nothing but the flashing red remained. He shoved away from the wall staring up the stairwell to see at least another four flights of stairs glaring ominously back down at him. He had to hurry, without the sound to slow the little symbiote down he was on limited time and both, Eddie and the human child he was currently residing within, were relying on him.

Venom soldiered on, taking the steps as quickly as he could.

----

Peter jumped over the tree branch sticking out of the water’s surface landing awkwardly and rolling his ankle sending him crashing to his knees with a harsh breath. He groaned and held a hand against the pain in his side. The annoying pit in his stomach seemingly have spread. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but the nagging ache was starting to be troublesome making it hard for him to focus. He had tried to remember how he’d escaped the last time he’d woken here but couldn’t recall anything other than Mr. Stark telling him to go home.

What had the creepy lady said? Mr. Stark had been the one sending him back?

“Great.” He hissed staring out at the vast empty waterscape with narrowed eyes. How in the heck was he supposed to find Mr. Stark in this watery land of nothing?

He closed his eyes and tried to fight the feeling hopelessness. He didn’t want to be stuck here waiting for his soul to be given to this Devondra thing. He needed to get back home, he needed to save Eddie and his creature-friend, needed to make sure May and his friends were okay and that Mysterio’s stupid little video hadn’t caused any lasting harm to them. Needed to tip off S.H.I.E.L.D to the Life Foundation and their shady as a subway tunnel doings.

A low guttural groan shook the ground causing Peter to release the grip he had on his side to balance himself. In the distance, Peter saw a shadow rising from the ground, long tentacles rippling out from a giant darkened center mass, almost reminding him of a gigantic version of the creature from the glass container in Eddi’s room.

Peter slowly stood, eyes widening as the humongous creature made it’s way towards him. “Holy…”

----

Venom slammed the stairwell door open only to face a group of six men in tactical gear with guns trained on him, “…Shit.”