Chapter Text
’What..? Where… Where am I?’
’It’s cold… why is it cold? Why can’t I remember anything? Am I dead?’
His eyes peeled open with more force than what was probably usual. He frowned, looking down at his hands. I don’t think I’m dead… what is this place? He yanked the needle out of his hand and dropped it off the side of the uncomfortable bed, swinging his legs over the side of it with a great amount of effort.
He stood on shaky legs, propping himself against a wall. He was indoors, he knew that much. It looked like some kind of hospital wing, if he was going by the number of His knees nearly buckled underneath him as pain shot through his spine, then through his head. ’Fuck… what happened? Who… why can’t I remember anything? I have a name, right? I’ve got to have one. How did I get here?’
He limped forward, using the wall for support. He had to find someone and figure out what was going on.
“...still asleep?”
“Yes. He should be waking up soon, though.”
“Good, we can get it out of him soon then.”
“Don’t go too hard on him Tony, he’s just a kid.”
His eyes widened. Shit, he needed to get out of here- wherever here was. It sounded like they were going to interrogate him or something. Fuck, he really needed to leave. But where could he go? It wasn’t like he knew where he was! He didn’t even know his own goddamn name!
“What the fuck…?” he muttered. His hands were… stuck to the wall… by his fingertips? What the actual fuck was happening? Was he a mutant or something? Some kind of comic book superhero?
He gripped his wrist with his other hand and yanked as hard as he could, breathing a sigh of relief when his fingers released their deathly-strong adhesive bond to the wall. He would have winced at the sizable chunk of wallpaper that it tore off in the process, but he was kind of focused on not being interrogated and/or brutally tortured by whoever that Tony guy was.
He continued his journey down the hall, using the wall for support while being careful not to touch any of his fingertips to it, and cursed when he came to a dead end. The end of the hall held a floor-to-ceiling window which overlooked some city, though he wasn’t sure which one. Going off of the ocean he could see on the very edge of the horizon, he was on some kind of shoreline city, maybe even an island. He sighed in annoyance- if only he was closer, then he could tell which ocean he was bordering.
...What? How the fuck could he tell that?
Whatever, it didn’t matter- he needed to get out of there.
“God, this fucking sucks,” he muttered, “how the fuck am I supposed to get back to London?”
Again, what the fuck?! How did he know that?
“Maybe they drugged me,” he mumbled, leaning back against the wall, “and maybe it’s just wearing off and I’m getting all my memories back. Thank fuck. Though I’m still not sure how I’m to get out of here…”
“Mr. Parker?”
He nearly jumped six feet in the air. “Jesus Christ!” he spat, quickly scanning the hall to find where the voice came from. “Where the fuck is your voice coming from?”
“My name is FRIDAY. I’m an AI designed by Tony Stark. I don’t seem to recognize your biological makeup. Shall I inform Mr. Stark that you’re awake?”
“Wait wait, you know me, but you don’t recognize me? What the hell is going on?”
“One of my many protocols is the ‘Goddamn It, Which One Of You Is Out Now?’ Protocol. I’m programmed to recognize who you are.”
“The fuck does that mean…? You know what, I’m gonna ignore that for now. Where am I?”
“You’re in Manhattan, New York.”
“And where exactly in Manhattan?”
“Stark Industries.”
“Never heard of it. How do I get back to London?”
“Peter, you’re acting differently to usual. You have never lived in London.”
“Peter…? That…” he furrowed his brow, staring down at the ground, “that can’t be my name.”
“There’s many forms of you. Shall I list them all?”
’What the fuck does that mean…?’ “Go ahead.”
“Spiderman.”
“Definitely not, keep going.”
“Keagan.”
That seemed a little less wrong, but still… “No.”
“Alex.”
“Nope.”
“Iron Man.”
“Yeah, definitely not. Go on.”
“Kaylee.”
“Do I look like a girl to you? No.”
“Harry.”
“Harry… it seems a little familiar, but again, no.”
“Finley.”
“No.”
The cycle kept going, with the AI listing out what felt like close to twenty names. All of them felt… off, though. None of them fit.
“Shall I inform Mr. Stark that you are none of them?”
“Um… no, that’s okay. Not that this hasn’t been fun and all, but I kind of want to leave now. Where’s the exit?”
“I’m not allowed to let you leave the tower until you’ve fully recovered.”
“Recovered?”
“You were involved in an accident which left you gravely injured.” He looked down at the bandages covering his arms, frowning slightly at the AI’s words. “Mr. Stark and May Parker wish to keep you here until you’ve recovered completely.”
“An accident…?” That sounded… a little familiar. Like he remembered it subconsciously or something. “What…” he gulped, throat dry, “What kind of accident?”
“You were involved in a robbery approximately seven days ago. You sustained three bullet wounds- one to the leg and two to the upper arm. Surgery was performed to remove excess shrapnel from where it had pierced through your torso and limbs, as well as to stop any fatal amount of bleeding from occurring. You also sustained a moderate concussion and you were kept asleep for several days to stop it from worsening.”
FRIDAY’s words seemed to fade out as she kept describing the injuries. He wobbled a little on his feet, gazing blankly at the ground. His chest spasmed and his breathing hitched, heart pounding against his ribcage like a hummingbird trapped in a small metal box.
“I… um, I have to go-” he stumbled forward, fumbling blindly upward for the latch. Everything was so much bigger than he was used to it being, which only served to further disorient him.
“I was told not to let you leave under any circumstances,” FRIDAY protested.
“Too bad,” he muttered, heart racing quicker as he fumbled with the lock, “you can tell that Tony guy to stick it.”
“Peter-”
“Lovely to meet you FRIDAY!” he called, popping the latch open. The wind rushed over him, tousling his hair and cooling the sweat that had been sticking his hospital clothes to his skin. If he was right about this, this could be the simplest thing in the world to do [minus the brain-numbing anxiety that would come along with it], and if he was wrong… well, he didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t believe he could actually process it at the moment, to be quite honest.
Gulping down what was sure to be an awful panic attack, he stood on the ledge of the window, gripping the frame for dear life, and looked down over the city. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath-
“Peter!”
-and jumped.