Chapter Text
Tony had only ever had one nightmare about his Ironman suit turning against him. Even then it had technically been his father in the suit, not the suit itself. Talking down to him. Ridiculing him. Telling him he wasn’t worthy of even wearing it. Fairly typical as far as nightmares go for someone with daddy issues.
Of his many nightmares, that particular one (while upsetting at the time), had not weighed on him for long. It was an imagined event, simply a result of his own deep seated fears and self-doubts. Not to mention that with all the safeguards Tony had in place, the idea of anyone being able to turn on one of his suits without his knowledge and consent was inconceivable. Laughable, even.
So when he heard his Mark 47 suit power up on its own behind him in the garage late one afternoon, there was a split second in which he assumed he was simply having another odd insecurity-fueled dream. But by the time he dropped his tools and turned around, his brain had re-calibrated and informed him that, as surreal and implausible as it might be to see the suit’s glowing blue eyes flicker on by themselves, he was not, in fact, dreaming.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Friday? What’s happening?” He called as the suit took a slow step out of its containment stand.
“There is a foreign presence in my programming, Boss,” the AI was quick to respond. “It’s blocking me from accessing that suit. Someone or something seems to be manipulating it remotely.”
“What?!” The armor took another step and Tony shifted backward. “That’s not possible. I made that thing impossible to hack into.”
“I’m attempting to regain control.”
The suit turned to stare at him and Tony reached behind him, fingers wrapping around a heavy piece of pipe. A ludicrous defense, really, if the suit decided to blow him away. He heard a little mechanical whirring as Dum-E rolled up next to him and wondered if the loyal robot planned to defend him with its fire extinguisher.
But to his bewilderment, the Ironman suit simply raised a hand and bent its fingers a few times in a small wave before powering up its thrusters.
“Shut it down, Fri!” He yelled as the armor rose off the floor and angled itself toward the large windows.
“I’m trying, Boss, but there is a firewall I can’t get past!”
The suit blasted off and Tony chased it a few steps in disbelief before slowing back to a stop as it crashed through one of the windows and sent glass shards scattering across the floor. The sun glinted orange off the retreating armor as it zoomed away, leaving a white trail over the buildings of New York.
Tony stared dumbly after it and the pipe slipped from his hand, clanging loudly on the floor before rolling away.
“What the hell just happened?” He turned to Dum-E. “Did someone just fly away with my suit?”
The robot warbled a few times, then reached down to pick up the pipe and drove away.
“Boss, I’m having no success in regaining control of the Mark 47,” Friday said urgently.
Tony snapped out of his daze and ran to his set up of computers, sliding into one of the chairs and pulling up everything he had on his armor. He briefly considered going after it in one of his other suits but it was too risky. If this person was smart enough to access one suit then he had to assume they had the ability to do the same with the others and it was far too dangerous to step inside one. He didn’t feel like delivering himself to anyone today.
But he would be damned if he let his tech fly right into the hands of an enemy who could reverse-engineer it and use it for evil.
“We gotta take it down, Fri. Before it gets to where it’s going. Shut it down or shoot it down.”
Even as he spoke, he began to see how restricted he and Friday had become. He could see the armor’s schematics but couldn’t access its operating system or any of its features.
“Boss... I was just given access to the suit’s camera feed.”
“Bring it up!”
It was on his largest screen before he even finished speaking. Watching his suit fly through the city made his blood curdle.
Then a string of text began to type itself across the bottom of his screen.
[Hi Tony. You seem upset.]
Tony froze, gaze locked on the words as they continued to type across the screen.
[You’ve been reluctant to share your brilliant toys in the past so I thought it best to help myself.]
Tony cleared his throat in an attempt to gather himself and then let out a chuckle. “Let me guess, you’re HAL? You gonna go all ‘I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that’ on me?”
[Still using humor to mask your nerves I see. For now let’s just say that I’m someone who has a bone to pick with you and could make much better use of your tech than you. As for how I’m doing this, I have a very talented friend assisting me.]
Tony watched through the suit’s eyes as it navigated the skyscrapers of the city. The low hanging sun reflected off of every window the suit passed and created deep shadows over the streets. He shifted to one of his smaller screens, ready to call in a drone strike, but found himself blocked from that system as well. He put his head in his hands briefly before slapping his palms back to the tabletop.
“You realize I’m going to see exactly where you’re taking it, right? I’m going to see who you are and where you are.”
[Not quite. We will be shutting down the visual feed long before that.]
“Then why are you showing me this? Trying to prove something? Gloating? Is that it? This is how you get your rocks off?”
[Again, not quite. There is a stop to make first.]
Tony saw a blinking red dot light up on the suit’s map overlay. “Friday, what is that?”
“It appears to be a construction site, Boss. Partially built, multi-level warehouse not currently being worked on.”
“Where?”
“Queens.”
[Queens.]
A pit formed in Tony's stomach at the word but he forced himself to remain detached and logical. “Why there?”
He got no response and had no choice but to wait and watch as the suit drew closer to its destination, drumming his fingers forcefully on the glass tabletop. He knew Friday hadn’t stopping working and wouldn’t stop until she broke through whatever firewall was keeping him out of his own operating system but he still had to suppress the urge to tell the AI to go faster.
The construction site came into view, awash with the pinkish orange glow of the sunset, and his heart rate began to pick up in anticipation. The details came into focus the closer the rogue suit got - piles of industrial piping, metal framework, slabs of concrete.
Then, at the corner of the rooftop, a small figure in bright red and blue.
Fear hit Tony like a punch to the chest and he rose to his feet, chair clattering on its wheels as it rolled away.
[Thank you for installing a tracker in his suit. He was so easy to find.]
Tony shook his head. “No. Nope. Whatever is going on here, he has nothing to do with it.”
[On the contrary. He has a great deal to do with it.]
Peter looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun as the suit came into range. His legs were dangling over the side of the roof and his mask lay on the concrete next to him. A take-out box of tacos rested on his lap but as soon as he saw Ironman he put them off to the side and scrambled to his feet. The suit landed nearby and Peter trotted up to it, face lit with a smile.
“Oh wow, hey Mr. Stark!”
Tony leaned forward onto the table, gripping the edges to keep his hands steady. “Friday. Call his cell phone.”
“Got it.”
“What are you doing here?” Peter continued, Bambi-brown eyes sparkling with excitement. “Do you want a taco? I have four. I usually eat all four, but that’s okay, we can split them if you want. They’re from that food truck that sometimes sets up on 19th street. Have you ever been there?”
“I didn’t come here for that,” the suit answered. “I came here to talk.”
The suit answered.
In Tony’s voice.
“Okay, how- how the hell-“ Tony sputtered in disbelief.
[We have access to every function of your suit, including its recordings. Every word you’ve ever said in this armor has been entered into a voice replication program. Very convincing, don’t you think? I speak, but it’s you he hears. Let’s see how well I can remember your arrogant inflections.]
Tony watched helplessly as Peter nodded at him on the screen.
“Oh okay, that’s okay,” the teenager replied. “What do you want to talk about? Is there a mission? Do you need help with something? I can help.”
Wherever Peter’s cell phone was, it was clearly not in hearing range. Either that or he heard it but didn’t want to interrupt ‘Tony’ to check on it.
[He really looks up to you, doesn’t he? This will be fun.]
The armor closed a hand and reared back. Time seemed to slow as Peter looked at the fist and then back, big eyes slightly confused but no less trusting.
“Don’t-!” Tony shouted, but the metal fist was already moving, snapping forward like a piston to strike Peter hard across the cheek. The force of the blow sent the boy tumbling to the ground and for a moment he stayed there on his hands and knees while Tony’s heart thundered wildly in his chest.
Peter sat back and stared at the ground in shock, touching his fingers to his cheek. It had been cut open on the armor’s gauntlet and was beginning to bleed.
“What the fuck did you do that for?!” Tony demanded.
[You see, Tony, I’m not the only one looking for a little revenge along the way. My talented friend here is as well, but it’s not you he has his sights set on.]
“I was hoping for so much more from you.” Tony heard his own voice projected out of the suit.
Peter looked up right into the camera and the utter hurt and betrayal on his face made Tony feel sick. “W-what? I don’t- I don’t understand, what did I do?”
“Why don’t you tell me? Why don’t you tell me what you’ve done to deserve that suit you’re wearing?”
Peter shook his head wordlessly, eyebrows raised and pulled together.
“I made that suit for you because I thought you had potential.” The armor started toward him again. “Because I expected you to improve. How long ago was that now?”
“I don’t know, I- I can’t remember-“
“Long enough for anyone with half an ounce of talent to show improvement.”
Peter pulled himself unsteadily to his feet, then touched his cheek again and gaped when he saw the blood that came away on his fingers. He backpedaled to maintain distance between himself and the suit as it advanced on him and Tony had an uncomfortable flashback to the day of the ferry incident, when he had been so angry at Peter that the boy had actually backed away from him in fear. He never wanted Peter to be afraid of him, not like that.
“Friday, how’s it coming, doll?” Tony ground out with forced calm.
“Working on it, Boss.”
“But what have you really accomplished since I gave you that suit? Huh?” The armor bit out and Tony had to admit that whoever was voicing it really did do a good impression of him. Even down to the way the suit moved and it’s mannerisms. Whoever was behind this was clearly someone who’d known him quite well.
“I’m sorry sir, I thought that I was doing okay.” Peter’s voice wavered and cracked and his cheeks flushed a soft red. “You said I was doing good, I didn’t know...”
“I said you were doing good hoping it would push you to actually do good. But I’m done waiting and done pretending.”
“No... wait, no! I can do better, Mr. Stark!” His gloved hands pressed together in a pleading gesture but he continued to back up, nearing a massive stack of industrial steel beams. “Please give me another chance, sir, I'm just- I’m trying to learn, I promise I am!”
“I’ve already given you more chances than you deserve. Stop moving!”
Peter startled at the volume of the sharp command and then shifted nervously, eyes growing wider and wider as the suit stalked closer to him.
“Don’t stop, kid,” Tony whispered, eyes transfixed on the screen. He felt like he was watching a horror movie, yelling for a character to run away, and was equally powerless to affect the outcome. But this wasn’t some random actor, this was Peter. Peter, innocent fifteen year old Peter who tried his hardest in everything he did, who gave more of himself than any other reasonable human would be able to. Who was too young to drive but had already experienced more pain and hardship than most people did in their entire lifetime.
Peter, who, in less than a year, had made for himself a permanent home in Tony's heart without him even realizing it. He often wondered when that happened. Perhaps it happened when he invited Peter to see his personal lab for the first time. The pure joy and awe on Peter's face as he explored made his heart flip-flop in a way he didn't know it could. Or perhaps it happened slowly, over the course of the countless earnest "daily report" voicemails Happy forwarded to him that he would smile over in the evenings.
But a part of him suspected it began far before that, when he sat on a rumpled twin bed for the first time and listened to the soul of a young boy whose ears were just a little too big for his head and whose heart was a lot too big for this world.
The suit came to a halt directly in front of Peter and there was a beat of silence before it spoke, its voice -Tony's voice - dropping low.
"You've been nothing but a disappointment."
Peter’s expression immediately began to crumble and it took Tony's heart along with it. The boy quickly glanced down and cleared his throat to compose himself but he couldn’t hide the shine of tears that were gathering in his eyes when he lifted his head again.
[I can’t believe how easy it is to break him down. He must really like you.]
“Okay fine, you’ve hurt him, you’ve done it! Now leave him alone and fly the fuck off,” Tony snapped.
[Oh, we’re not done.]
“What is your problem with him, anyway? This is a hell of a lot of effort you’ve gone to, what could he have possibly done to piss you off this bad? He’s just a kid! How do you even know about him?”
[This little spider boy ruined my talented friend’s whole career and livelihood. Sent his employer to jail. Left him with no income, on the run.]
“Then your friend's employer deserved to be there. What a shitty, petty reason.”
[It’s a win-win situation for us, really. I want to hurt you, therefore I, too, want to hurt him.]
The rogue suit grabbed Peter’s upper arm and the teenager flinched, standing stiff and breathing hard through his nose.
“Don’t touch him,” Tony hissed, but the suit yanked Peter closer and leaned down.
“I regret ever contacting you,” it growled.
Peter’s watery gaze darted away and he swallowed hard before whispering a barely-there, “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.”
“Oh, kiddo,” Tony murmured, heart aching.
“I’m sorry,” the boy repeated. Blood continued to drip from the deep cut on his cheekbone. “I’m really trying my best.”
“Well your best clearly isn’t good enough. You’re still just a child pretending to be a grown up.”
“Okay, I get it,” Peter said, voice raising ever so slightly. An ominous gust of wind swept across the concrete roof and pushed at his curls; curls that he always tried to style back away from his forehead but could never quite keep in place for long. “I’ll leave.”
He tried to pull away but the gauntlet’s grip just tightened.
“You’re not leaving until I say you can leave.”
Tony recognized that tone of voice. It was a tone he was all too familiar with, one he had heard too often from his own father.
“Friday, send- uh, get Happy,” he stammered, hand searching for his tablet and tinted glasses on the work table. “Get Happy here. Tell him that- just. Just tell him.”
“Got it.”
[Trust is usually such a hard thing to earn. But not with him, it seems. I bet he trusted you from day one, didn’t he? He’s not even questioning anything I say.]
“Leave him alone.”
The suit drew Peter closer. “Do you know how patient I’ve tried to be with you?”
“Let me go.” A deep crease formed between Peter's eyebrows. His gaze remained averted. “I want to go, I don’t want to talk anymore.”
Tony sucked in a breath when the armor moved to hit him again but this time Peter blocked the incoming blow with his forearm and looked up, stunned. “Why are you hitting me again?”
In the blink of an eye, the suit released Peter’s arm only to slam a fist hard into his gut, sending him staggering back several feet, doubled over and coughing.
“Because you’re an ungrateful brat, that’s why.”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter gasped. “This can’t be you, you don’t hit people like this! You’ve never hit me before, you wouldn’t do that!”
“Atta boy, Pete,” Tony murmured, an ember of warmth blossoming in his chest.
The suit just chuckled, cold and uncaring. “You don’t know me nearly as well as you seem to think you do.”
[So his name is Pete? Peter?]
Coldness spread down through Tony like ice water and he dropped his head, disbelief and disgust roiling in his stomach.
“I know you well enough to know you’re a good person!” Peter exclaimed, and despite the guilt permeating Tony’s thoughts, his heart swelled again. “Something’s happened to you. It must have, you wouldn’t try to hurt me like this.”
“Oh no?” The armor countered. The condescension oozing from Tony’s own voice was nothing short of disturbing. Seeing the effect it was having on his impressionable, pure-hearted intern was even worse. “Why wouldn’t I hurt you, kid?”
Tony bristled at the use of the familiar nickname.
“Because... because you like me,” Peter responded tentatively.
“When did I tell you I liked you?”
Peter’s brow knit together in thought and then he cast his eyes off to the side in dismay, mouth opening and closing silently. Tony searched mentally as well but had a sinking feeling that he’d come up empty. He had told others plenty of times that he liked Peter, over and over, in fact, but had he ever actually said it to Peter himself? It was always implied, he thought, but had he said the words?
[Have you really never told him you cared about him? Not even once? Tony, Tony, Tony. I know you have difficulty expressing emotion but surely if anyone deserves the effort it would be this poor boy.]
“Shut up,” he growled, crossing his arms and leaning his weight restlessly from leg to leg.
[He must be starved for affection and validation. He clearly adores you, and you haven’t even told him you like him?]
“But you invite me over,” Peter finally answered, but his voice shook with doubt. “You saved me when I fell in the river and came to help with the ferry and you give me advice... you help me with my suit, and-“
“I did those things because it’s the Stark name you’re representing when you wear that suit, Peter. Did you really think that I’ve been helping you for your sake? Because I like you?”
Peter backed up a step, hugging his midsection like he had been hit a second time as his tears finally spilled over, leaving shining trails down his cheeks. He gave a single quiet sob, then pressed the back of his hand over his mouth. He looked heartbreakingly small and young and alone.
Tony’s fingers dug deep into his arms where they were crossed.
[Poor Peter. He thought his hero liked him.]
“Shut up.”
[Did you notice how many times I put him down before he started to think that maybe it wasn’t you?]
“Shut up! Friday, where is Happy?”
“On his way, Boss. He’ll be here soon, I’ve informed him of the situation.”
Tony’s eyes darted to his extensive car collection on the other side of the high tech garage. He wouldn’t be able to drive and keep an eye on Peter at the same time. He had self-driving cars but that would mean putting control in Friday’s virtual hands, and that would be just as dangerous as using one of his other Ironman suits. It could too easily be taken over and crashed or be driven wherever these people wanted to take him.
He needed Happy.
His attention was brought back to the too-large, too-detailed screen by Peter’s wavering voice.
“Are you going to take the suit away again then?” he said, breath hitching. He wiped brusquely at his tears. “I s-still want to help people.”
Of course he did.
“I don’t think you get it, kid. Giving you that suit was a mistake. Wasting time on you was a mistake. You were a mistake.” Tony felt a chill go down his spine at the growing malice in the suit’s voice.
“Leave him alone,” Tony warned, loud enough that it echoed through the garage. “You’ve hurt him enough. Leave him alone.”
[No. I know he means a great deal to you and clearly you mean the world to him. I don’t want to just damage that relationship, I want to destroy it. I want it to be irreparable.]
Tony clenched his jaw as he read.
[And I don’t just want him hurt, I want him afraid.]
“Peter,” Tony heard himself say on the screen. “Do you know what I do with my mistakes?”
Peter let out another muffled sob and backed away, shaking his head.
“I bury them.”
The armor raised a palm and for a split second Tony’s mind simply disconnected in an attempt to refuse what was happening. But then the horror slammed into him in full force when the suit shot off a white-hot repulsor blast directly at Peter’s chest.
Peter's expression morphed into pure terror and he lurched to the side but was too close to get completely out of range. It hit his shoulder, knocking him off balance and scorching his suit. A second shot followed almost immediately, grazing his hip and a third caught one of his arms dead on as he tried to scramble away.
It was the worst kind of setting for Peter to try and make an escape. He depended a great deal on using his webs to swing about and evade attacks, but they were on the highest level of the unfinished building. There were no walls for him to climb, no ceiling for him to leap onto. Just stacks of construction materials open to the sky.
The suit continued to fire in rapid succession but despite his movements being uncoordinated, haphazard, and frantic, Peter was able to avoid any more direct hits. He took the first opportunity he could to sprint away and Tony’s heart lifted briefly only to plummet again when, on the schematics on his screen, the armor’s left forearm began to blink.
Knowing what was about to happen, Tony slammed a hand down on the tabletop, rattling his keyboard and coffee mug. “Just let him leave!”
A grappling hook shot out from the suit’s arm and latched around Peter’s lower leg, it’s claws tearing deep into his calf muscle and then yanking him off his feet. Peter gave a sharp cry of pain as he hit the concrete and then the chain retracted, whipping him back into reach of the armor. He rolled over on the way and reared his other leg back as though ready to kick the suit in the head, but then dropped it, letting the opportunity pass. The suit took advantage, dropping a heavy knee onto Peter’s chest and punching him in the face again.
Peter curled his arms over his head for protection as the armor hit him again and from behind them Tony could hear a muffled and distressed, “Stop! Stop, please!”
Rapid footsteps echoed through the garage and the second Happy came into view, Tony grabbed a tablet and his tinted glasses.
“Friday told me what’s happening,” Happy panted, tie only half done and shirt untucked. “What do you need from me?“
“Fastest car, Hap. Get me to Peter.”
In less than a minute they were tearing out of the garage into the city. Tony brought the video feed back up in his glasses but the first thing he saw was a fist slamming into Peter’s nose and he jerked from the shock of seeing it first person. He took the glasses off with shaky hands and opened it on the tablet instead.
A metal hand was wrapped around Peter’s neck and it lifted him into the air only to slam him back down into the ground, cracking the concrete under him. Peter let out a harsh grunt upon impact, eyes screwing shut in pain.
“Hap, break any and all traffic laws you need to to get us there,” Tony called, heart in his throat as the suit lifted his protégé and slammed him violently down a second time. The dent in the concrete deepened and Peter’s grip on the suit’s arm went slack, his eyes briefly unfocusing in a daze. “As long as it won’t hurt anyone other than us, do anything you have to do.”
His answer was a swerve of the car, horns honking, and then a sharp bump as Happy cut a corner over the sidewalk.
Peter’s eyes came rapidly back into focus as the hand around his neck began to squeeze and he grabbed at it to try to keep it from crushing his throat. His entire right shoulder and arm were scorched and sizzling from the repulsor blasts. Large chunks of his suit were gone, revealing severely burned skin, angry and red and oozing. Blood leaked from his nose.
“You’re... not... Mr. Stark,” Peter managed to choke out, finally getting a good enough grip to start to peel the metal fingers away from his neck.
“No? How do I know your name, then, Pete?”
The crushing guilt that Tony had pushed to the back of his mind flooded back as doubt filled Peter’s red and watery eyes again.
“You said you believed in me,” he whispered, his voice broken in despair yet somehow, even now, harboring a tiny tendril of desperate hope. Pleading for Tony’s forgiveness, for a change of his mind. For anything.
“I did believe in you.” The suit engaged the thrusters on its arm and overpowered Peter's super strength to get its metal hand latched around his neck again. “I was wrong.”
Tony watched the last vestiges of hope fade from the youthful brown eyes that used to look at him with nothing but trust and wonder, and felt something inside of him crack.
“Can you still hear me?” He said lowly.
[Of course.]
“I want you to know something,” he continued, struggling to keep his voice steady as Peter began to squirm under the new pressure of the gauntlet. “There is nowhere on this planet or off of it that you can go where I won’t find you and make you regret being born. And I don’t mean sending you to jail. You have no-“
He cut himself short in surprise when Peter unexpectedly let go of the suit’s fingers, taking the full brunt of the thruster-powered hand on his neck as he reached above his head and shot webs at something off-screen. He yanked hard and not a second later the camera view jerked as something heavy and metal impacted the armor with a clang.
The suit had barely righted itself when Peter shot off another set of webs and pulled hard. The armor rocked again with another hit. The hand almost lost its grip. One or two more blows might dislodge the suit altogether.
[Oh, he’s fighting back.]
That’s it, bud. Tony felt a little thrill of hope when Peter shot toward something off to his side this time and yanked again. Not for the first time, he marveled at how fast the teenager could be. This time, however, the armor raised its free hand and blasted whatever was flying toward it. Dust and debris flew across the camera feed as what looked to have been a giant spool of industrial wire cabling broke apart.
Peter didn’t look ready to give up, but it seemed whoever was controlling the suit was done playing around. When Peter aimed his webshooters again it snatched both of his wrists. The second his neck was free, Peter sucked in a ragged breath and Tony could see the angry reddish-purple marks left behind on his skin.
The visual made his heart ache, but it was when the armor began to squeeze Peter’s wrists that his heart threatened to stop altogether. The webshooters that Peter and Tony had worked together to improve so many times cracked under steel fingers, pieces dropping onto the spider emblem on Peter's chest like bits of meaningless junk.
But even when the webshooters had broken away completely, the hands didn't stop squeezing; like unrelenting vices being screwed ever tighter. Peter's eyes grew wide in sudden realization and he began to struggle with extra vigor, fists clenched, yanking hard from side to side in desperate attempts to roll away. The camera feed rocked slightly but Tony could hear the suit's thrusters engaging, compensating for Peter's strength to keep him down.
"Please, please, don't!" Peter begged, rapidly shaking his head. "Please-!"
Tony's gut clenched in dread. "Stop-!"
Crunch.
Peter's head flew back to hit the concrete under him and he screamed, an ear-splitting, horrid sound. One of his arms jerked and his fingers spasmed and then went lax.
The sound of the car engine and road traffic surrounding Tony faded to a dull ringing and a sickening sensation rolled in his stomach and crawled just under his skin.
The sun was touching the horizon. Passing vehicles began to flick their headlights on and the screen in Tony's hands suddenly felt too bright in the dim interior of the car. Somewhere in the periphery of his awareness he heard Happy speaking urgently to someone on the phone.
Half of Peter's face was cast in shadow, the other half lit in a coral glow. The dying sun sparkled over the wetness on his cheeks; tears and blood. Endless, mindless pleading streamed out of the teenager as the suit lifted his other wrist.
Crack.
Another scream filled the interior of the car. Raw and guttural, carving into Tony's heart like a knife into a tree trunk. He flinched and briefly closed his eyes to block out the sight of Peter writhing and hitting his head back against the concrete again.
Happy met his eyes for a split second in the rear-view mirror, face white and momentarily silent in shock before stuttering back into his conversation through the phone.
Peter's scream cut off into what could only be described as a combination of erratic panting and sobbing. Then suddenly he was screaming again but this time it was forceful, animalistic, and his tear-filled eyes became angry and desperate. The camera feed rocked hard as he thrashed, kneeing and kicking wildly at the suit and - with what could only be pain-fueled adrenaline - overcame the power of the thrusters and broke the armor's hold on him, flinging it far over his head.
Tony's heart leapt to his throat when he remembered the grappling hook still in Peter's leg and as if on cue he heard another rough and anguished cry. The suit righted itself in the air and looked down, where Peter was dragging himself to his feet. He ran for the large stack of steel beams, limping heavily and trailing blood behind him from several deep gashes in his calf.
Tony felt his mind begin to disconnect again when the armor's schematics began to blink once more.
This time two blue disks shot out, racing toward Peter's ankles - the cuffs he had used on Cap in Siberia. The cuffs he had designed specifically to contain people with enhanced strength. Steve was only able to break out of them because he had his vibranium shield, but Peter had no such thing. Just two broken wrists and a hobbled leg.
"Just let him fucking leave!" Tony shouted, and Happy jumped in the driver's seat, nearly dropping his phone and swerving slightly in the road. "You're going to kill him!"
[We'd like to get close.]
Peter must have sensed them coming. When they were just yards away he leapt into a spiraling flip in the air and they missed his ankles. But they didn't miss him altogether. His flip was messy, his center of gravity way off, and while he got his ankles out of the way, one of his wrists swung down right into their path. One of the cuffs flew past him but the other clamped around his left wrist. He landed awkwardly on his bad leg and then rolled and tumbled until his body hit the metal beams and came to rest in a cloud of dust. The cuff, designed and intended to magnetize with its twin, snapped instead to the steel beam he lay against with an audible clang.
The suit aimed both palms down at the vulnerable teenager and began to fire.
It's just another nightmare. That’s all this is, Tony thought with a crazed sort of desperation as a cold sweat broke out over his body. Lightheadedness made his vision waver but still he saw, too clearly, Peter huddle into a little ball against the beam he was now stuck to, shoulders shaking and crying in terror as repulsor blasts exploded around him.
It took only a few seconds for Tony to recognize that the suit wasn't aiming for Peter, it was aiming for the concrete around him. The roof began to split and fracture, and soon big chunks were falling away. The giant beam shifted as one end of it began to slide backward, and Peter was pulled unwillingly with it.
Then the ground cracked under his feet and the entire level caved inward. Plumes of gray dust and debris billowed upward into the light of the setting sun as the gaping hole swallowed everything above it. The heavy beams fell into the darkness, yanking Peter down with them, and the last thing Tony saw was a pair of red boots disappearing before the camera feed stuttered and went black.