Chapter Text
Smoke in his eyes. He couldn’t see.
“...My baby!” someone was screaming. He couldn’t see, but he ran anyway.
“Please, please...” he couldn’t see.
The fire was roaring in his ears.
There was no heartbeat. He couldn’t see.
“Locked inside… Spider Man!”
He couldn’t see. He couldn’t…
Peter woke with a start, heart thundering and lungs spasming. He was choking, heaving with phantom smoke still trapped in his lungs, mind still believing that he was still stuck in the fire. He clutched at his burning chest as he gasped in the clean air of the room he was in, thin white blanket pooling around his waist and legs.
Peter closed his eyes as his breathing finally evened out. He wasn’t there anymore, though he had no memory of how he had managed to escape. Peter paused to think how that could be. Perhaps he had passed out from lack of oxygen and Mr. Stark had swooped in to rescue him just like all the other times Peter was incapacitated? Had to be.
Peter opened his eyes.
This was not the medical facility he usually woke up in after a fight. With sleek metal panels for walls instead of the friendly cream-coloured paper curtains and decorations that were typically found in the Avengers compound, Peter instantly felt unease settle in his stomach.
His senses buzzed in the back of his neck- a dull sensation but still there nonetheless. Peter swallowed against the wave of dread that washed over him, unsure of his misplacement. The room was also tiny and cubelar, a quick glance up and down the walls had him estimating that each of the panels couldn’t have been more than eight by eight square feet. Peter turned his head and met the only exit in sight.
And it had bars on it.
“What the hell?” Peter leapt to his feet, slightly tripping over the blanket still wrapped around his ankles and stepped up to the door. He pressed his palms flat against the glass and pushed to no avail in every direction he could think of. He even tapped into his super strength and yet the door stood firm. He dropped his hands in defeat and looked out the clear panelling instead, taking in his surroundings.
Three more identical rooms across from him, empty, save for their own small beds, desks, stools and small ventilation shafts in the upper corners identical to his own. One large metal door set on its own to his right. Peter could only assume that he had two matching cells on either side of his own. Cells. He felt his face lose all of its colour, suddenly lightheaded.
In the reflection of the glass, he noticed what he was wearing. A blue uniform of sorts with a light grey undershirt, the numbers 005 etched into the blue fabric directly overtop of his left breastbone.
This was wrong on so many levels.
He did a full circle, the sound of his heartbeat gradually picking up its pace and booming inside his skull, bringing on a headache that he did not need. He crouched down with his hands clasped over his ears in an attempt to block out the noise. He was in prison. There had to be some kind of mistake here. Mr. Stark would get him out.
Peter breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. Mr. Stark would get him out. He was certain of it. Peter saved people, he didn’t deserve this. Right? He had to believe that things would be alright and most importantly to stay calm. Mr. Stark was always level headed and he was always able to get himself out of hairy situations. Peter willed his heart to stop racing. Panicking would do nothing good for him.
Hesitantly, he brought his head out from between his knees. and spotted a camera in the corner of his cell- room. A blinking red light told Peter that someone was watching him from behind the lens. Peter stilled, maybe that’s what was triggering his spider-sense. He rose to his feet as steadily as his panicked limbs would allow, head cocked as he observed the small electronic device.
Peter cleared his throat, “H-hello?” There was no response. Peter wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. “Pretty sure you’ve got the wrong guy here?” He let his voice rise a pitch at the end of his sentence, suddenly uncertain. What if they did have the right guy? What if these were the bad people Mr. Stark was always warning him to stay away from- what were they called again? Hydra.
If that were the case, Peter may need to get himself out before Mr. Stark could come to save him.
He stepped up to the far back wall, eyeing the ventilation shaft with a scrutinizing glare. It looked pretty small, but Peter knew he was good at fitting into tight spaces. He spread his fingers against the cool surface and began to crawl up the wall in his signature wall-crawler form. His toes had just left the ground when a burning sensation built up in the back of his neck and sent a jolt of fire down his spinal cord. He dropped to the floor in alarm, a hand flying up to grab at the source of pain and a small cry squeaking out of his throat.
“Ow! What the-” Peter froze as he felt it with his finger tips. A healing scar on the back of his neck and underneath it… something was implanted. “Oh my God..” Peter scratched at his neck suddenly all too aware of the intrusion buried inside him, directly under the buzz of his spider-sense. He had been chipped.
This was more than a simple prison.
Peter was finding it increasingly more difficult to breathe by the second. This situation was not ideal, nor was it necessary- Peter meant no harm to anyone. Even as Spider man, Peter did his best to leave the punishment of the criminals he fought up to the officials, all he ever tried to do was good. So why was he here? Peter glanced back up at the camera on the wall.
He would have to wait and find out.
And Peter did for hours, feeling all the more like he was losing his sanity due to the constant holler of his spider-senses sitting on the base of his neck. He itched at it relentlessly until he broke the skin around it and earned another jolt of electricity. It felt like a fly buzzing in his ear but no matter how many times he swatted at it it wouldn’t go away. Peter figured it would be there until he managed to get it removed. Barely anytime had passed since he had initially woken up and already he couldn’t stand it.
He attempted to climb the wall once more but quickly realised that he would gather no results other than searing pain racing down his back and up into his skull. It seemed the more he tried it, the worse the pain got. Peter angrily kicked at the wall in protest and stuck his tongue out at the camera when nothing happened. Peter was terrible at waiting.
He paced the floor, longing to be upside down once again- it was easier to think when dangling from a web- and examined the other objects in his room. Besides his single cot and blanket he had a small writing desk and stool but nothing to keep inside the open drawer. Hopefully that meant they would be giving Peter something to do eventually; a ball to throw or, hell, even his spanish homework. Peter was already dying of boredom.
He was sitting on the floor, back resting against his bed when he heard the heavy clang of metal on metal, machinery churning deep in the distance. Peter immediately perked and jumped to his feet, rushing to press his ear against the wall. He could make out the distinct sound of footsteps where there had only been silence moments ago, trying his best to distinguish exactly how many people were coming for him. It was difficult to be precise, but there were more than one.
Peter pushed away from the wall as the door to the room outside his cell was opened and three men walked inside. Two were dressed head to toe in black tactical gear, though instead of handguns holstered at their hips, Peter noticed they carried some sort of high-tech batons; the sight made his hair stand on end. Despite this, his sole focus was on the man who stood in between the others, grey three piece suit, moustache, and a smug look on his face. Peter recognized him from somewhere, most likely from some textbook he had studied in school, but his name evaded him.
Peter balled his hands into fists as the man clasped his together. “Peter Parker, finally a chance to meet you face to face.” The man spoke, his voice deep and serious despite the smirk on his lips and mirth in his eyes.
“Who are you?” Peter kept his voice steady as he stared down the bigger man. The sight of whom sent spikes of fear directly into his heart and icy shards into his bloodstream. Though Peter couldn’t smell him through the bars on his cage, the man reeked of danger. “Why am I here?” He was terrified.
“I am General Thaddeus Ross, but you will refer to me as ‘sir’ from here on out.” Ross took a step closer to Peter's cell, and Peter had to refrain from taking a step backwards in retaliation, suddenly glad that there was a wall between them. “...and you, Spider Man need to stay up to date with the politics regarding enhanced individuals.”
Thaddeus Ross… enhanced individuals… Peter's brain was moving a mile a minute. Until it clicked. He and Ned had been talking in class that day, but some part of Peter's mind had caught what they teacher had been talking about.
“The Sokovia accords…” Peter mumbled and Ross’ smile grew as he nodded. “B-but Mr. Stark said-” Mr. Stark had said the issue was resolved and they were in the process of deteriorating. This shouldn’t be allowed to happen.
“Tony Stark is a liar and out of his jurisdiction!” The man's entire demeanor changed at the mention of Mr. Stark's name and he snapped without warning. Peter was stunned into silence at Ross’ outburst. The man definitely had issues and Peter wasn’t in a rush to push his buttons. Slowly, Ross gathered himself, and Peter held his breath silently as he watched the man straighten his tie and smooth out his jacket, suddenly calm once again. “He was also quite selfish, keeping your identity hidden for so long. Now you’re my plaything.”
Peters' fear morphed into anger at Ross’ words. “I’m not anyone's plaything, and I won’t be here long enough to become one. Mr. Stark will come for me.” Peter stated defiantly, confidence all but shattering when Ross started to laugh.
“No one is coming for you,” the old man chuckled, “as far as the media and your precious Tony Stark are aware, your body is laying in pieces in the Avengers facility morgue.” Ross broke off to check his wrist watch. “And we are running right on schedule.”
Peter was taken aback. What did he mean body? Peter was- he was right here, alive and okay, he had a pulse and was breathing, blinking, thinking. If there was a body in the Avengers morgue, it wasn’t his. A fake… “Oh my god.” Peter whispered. They had faked his death. Peter shook his head in disbelief, the Avengers weren’t naive enough to fall for a fake body. They had to run tests and things- they would realize it wasn’t really him.
Ross could see the conflict on his face. “I know you’re a smart kid. That’s why I thought it would be vital to show you this.” Ross waved a finger at one of the guards who stepped forward at the cue, pulled out a tablet and slid it through a small hatch at the bottom of Peters door, locking it from the outside.
Peter hesitantly crouched and picked it up off the floor. “What the hell is this?” He ground out between clamped teeth as his sensitive eyes were assaulted by the large yellow headline flashing across the screen.
“TONY STARK SPEECH IN HONOUR OF LATE SPIDER-MAN”
“It’s live television.” Ross answered, hands in pockets. Peter could feel his eyes roaming his face drinking in the expression of anguish and disbelief that Peter knew he wore as he turned up the volume on the device.
Mr. Stark stood at a podium in front of the old Avengers tower, dressed in a black suit and tie, eye bags a startling purple despite the heavy layers of makeup Peter could see applied there in an attempt to hide them from the public. His eyes were cast downwards, towards the cue cards in his hands and Peter could have laughed at the sight. Mr. Stark not winging a speech? Since when?
Since he thought Peter died.
“-der Man was more than a teammate and friend. He was like a son to me- my protege, if you would, but the loss of him weighs heavily on all our hearts today.” Tony's voice cracked at the end of his sentence and Peter watched as a solitary tear slipped down his mentors face. He had never seen Tony cry before and the sight broke Peter's soul in two.
He really thought Peter was dead.
“I would ask you all, to remember Spider Man the way he was in life and not in his… his death. He didn’t ask for his powers. But he chose to be Spider Man. Just like you can choose to do great things, and just like we are counting on you to do them.” Tony paused to suck in a deep breath, obviously struggling to keep his composure. Peter felt his break as the camera changed angles and Peter spotted May in the crowd, crying silently.
“This is goodbye, Spider Man. You are gone, but you will never be forgotten. Peters hands clenched around the tablet, denting the sides and cracking the screen. Tony was saying goodbye to more than Spider Man, he was saying goodbye to Peter. ”Thank you for your time here today.” Then Tony stepped back from the podium as the Iron Man armour enveloped him and he lifted off the ground in a blaze. The crowd gave one last mournful cheer, before the feed cut out and Peter was left to stare into the reflection of his empty eyes.
This couldn’t be happening. If Mr. Stark truly thought that Peter was dead… then Ross was right.
No one was coming for him.
“Bullshit.” Peter tossed the tablet onto the ground. That had to be a farce of some sort, an actor or a modified recording. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
Ross raised his eyebrows as he glanced down at the broken tablet screen then back up at Peter. “I can see you’re going to be a tough one to break.” Out of his pocket he removed a sleek black remote, and without warning turned the dial and pressed the button.
The agony was instantaneous, buckling Peters knees and sending him careening onto the floor, a strangled scream forcing its way up his throat. He managed to catch himself on his hands and knees as his bones flashed hot with fire then abruptly ended. Peter pushed himself onto his knees with trembling arms and heaving lungs. His head was heavy but he raised it anyways, meeting Ross’s eyes through the door of his cell.
“You see kid, we have tools here to help us break in our prisoners who don’t follow the rules.” He held the remote up to the light so Peter could see it all the more clearly. “See this little thing here? It’s old Stark Industries technology actually- discontinued, of course, but I manage to get my hands on what I want. It’s going to be quite nifty, don’t you think?”
Peter slowly rose onto his feet, stumbling slightly due to shaky limbs. Ross looked impressed. “I think… that Mr. Stark is going to come find me… and when he does… you’re gonna be in deep shit.” Peter stepped forward and rested his knuckles against the glass to help him stay upright as his muscles recovered from their torment.
Ross made to press the button on the remote again and Peter flinched in anticipation of the pain that didn’t come. Ross smiled as he hovered his finger over the button, teasing, taunting, tormenting. “You see? You’re already learning to obey.” Ross sauntered backwards and passed the remote to the guard on his left. “By the way the first rule here is ‘don’t talk back to your superiors’.” He gave a hand signal to the camera behind Peter and the cell door began to open slowly. Peter stepped back cautiously, he didn’t have the energy to run. “Perhaps my men here can teach you the rest.”
The two guards stepped forward and removed their batons from their holsters. The ends crackled to life with electricity that vibrated through the air, and Peter prepared himself for a fight.
This was not going to be fun.