Chapter Text
Peter was a smart boy. He had learned to make his own spiderwebs out of chemicals when he was 14. He attended a prestigious high school while fighting criminals every night, all while maintaining his secret identity.
But sometimes his intelligence would burden him. He could see all the pain and stress all of his friends and family had behind their eyes and Peter took this as a sign to not tell them of his own pain and stress. His bleeding heart and drive to protect blinded him from logic at times.
This meant Peter did some dumb shit some times.
_.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._
It was dinner time on Thursday. The air was crisp with the start of fall. October had started and the excitement for Halloween hummed among the children playing in the street. Aunt May was just getting off of work at the hospital. Ned and MJ were ‘studying’ at the library for their midterms. Peter would have been with them that night if he was a normal teenager. But instead Peter was getting the shit beat out of him.
It had started as a handful of robots. Every few months Doctor Doom would pop out and release his new edition of robots onto the streets of Manhattan. He was definitely a threat but fairly manageable. A typical Avenger work day- show up, punch some bad guys, don’t make too big of a mess, smile and wave.
Spiderman was still new to working with the Avengers so his job was mostly crowd control. He was still learning the dynamics of the team and where he fit into it. They all seemed to have their roles, like classes in D&D. Hawkeye fought long distances where Captain America needed to be up close and personal to land punches. Peter assumed he was somewhere in between Ironman and Black widow. But for now he helped civilians get out of the way.
“Tony, go down to 4th and keep them within the perimeter.” Captain America called on the coms.
“Eye eye captain.” Tony said back.
Peter smiled at the light heartedness of the team as he swung to a new building. He webbed a robot about to reach a screaming woman and pulled the hunk of metal into the air. There was a large crowd of people working their way out of the area. It was the middle of downtown during rush hour so it was pretty busy. But they were New Yorkers so they knew how to pick each other up and keep going.
“Keep calm and please make your way to the subway or surrounding buildings!” Peter yelled to them, perching a top of a lamp post. A few waved in response and moved to get away. Others seemed more focused on getting pictures than protecting themselves.
“Cap, we got more coming in from the west,” Black widow yelled.
“How many more?”
“A shit ton!” Falcon chimed in.
“How many is a shit ton?”
“Look for yourself,” Widow yelled.
Peter turned to see a wall of robots coming from around the tall skyscrapers. They were descending onto the streets of New York like a wave. The crowd started to scream and panic as they saw them. They started to dash to safety but there was no way there would be enough room. Peter breathed in and started to shoot webs at the wall of metal, trying to tie their arms together and clog their engines. A few fell into the air but there were so many, it hardly made a dent.
Soon they were on him. Metal fist came cascading down onto Peter’s face and body. His spider sense was screaming and at some point he felt the ground reach up to greet his back. He swung his arms where he could, trying to fight back against the endless punches and gabs.
He reached for the small patch of sky he could see, spraying his webs out and hoping they would catch onto something. He pulled up on the threat and was out. As he swung the roar of hundreds of metal robots followed him. Away from civilians, was the only thing he could think. A pounding mantra that pulled him further away from the crowd.
“Is anyone got a free hand or two?” Peter called over the coms. “I got a big party over here I could use some help with!” He jumped up and swung again, the roar coming louder behind him.
“We are all a little tied up right now,” Sam called. “You think you can hold out for a bit Spiderman?”
Peter did a quick look over his shoulder. “Sure,” He replied through gritted teeth.
And so he flew through the streets, trying his best to out run the robots while also keeping them on his tail. They where either pretty smart or dumb. Whatever their logic was, they had attached themselves onto Spiderman and were tracking him through the city. He looped throw the streets, circling around and webbing the low flying ones to the ground or the sides of skyscrapers. He tried to get high in the air but the building were only so tall.
He could hear the other avengers fighting a few blocks down. From the coms he figured they were together for the most part. Fighting back to back. Peter figured they had enough problems as it was, so he led his cloud of robots away from them.
His webs were starting to run out. His arms were starting to ache. The bruised ribs were starting to feel like bruised ribs and the adrenaline was wearing down. He needed to do something soon.
“How busy are you all now?” Peter asked.
“Busy” Replied Black widow, short and blunt. And there was no arguing with Natasha.
No time to pout. Thought Peter as his heart stung from the cold answer. Deal with the hand dealt. So Peter continued his parade of robots.
Suddenly, he saw it. An empty apartment building under construction. It was late enough that all the crew should have gone home and clean enough that no homeless people would be camping there in the night. If things were right, a closed space would be easier to fight in. There would be less of a chance he would be surrounded.
A very smart plan for some very dumb robots.
Without another second to think, he crashed through a window on the 6th floor. Right away he began to run into the center hallway. Right behind him the robots crash through. Peter slammed the door closed behind him but the bots burst through the door, wood splintering everywhere. He glanced over his shoulder to see the horrifying sight of a stampede of robots crashing into each other, trying to get to him.
He ran down the stairs, four steps at a time. Bots were grabbing at his arms and back. He meet them with punches and webbed them to the walls. Soon the staircase was full of the same cascade of robots as the apartment. They crashed through the walls. Some came through other apartments, trying to make their way through the same small window as the others. But they all seemed to fall into the staircase. Each of them driving forward, carless for their peers. They broke themselves apart in a loud crush of metal. Metal bodies became like water, falling and crashing down the stairs in quick currents.
They were coming from him.
“I need help!” Peter screamed, survival instincts taking over any social anxieties he had about asking for help. “I need back up!”
“Okay, okay,” Captain America replied. “Where are you Spiderman?”
“On 10th street, the building is under construction!”
“We are on our way.”
Peter fell down the steps, jumping down the flights, dodging the robots coming in from all sides. Breathe in, breathe out, he thought to himself, trying to pull the energy to keep bots at bay. Their worst was the sound. He tried to ignore it but the stairwell was full of the overwhelming crashing and crunching sound of the robots hunger for him. His spider sense screamed and soon he saw the wall of metal was also coming up from the first floor. Trapping him in the middle.
He crashes his way into one of the apartments on whatever floor he was on. Dragging and kicking his way through the mob. He was grabbed around the neck and punched in the gut. Metal raped around his neck, pulling tightly, heave weight on his back. Seeing stars, Peter thrashed. He pulled and lifted the robot on his back up over he head and slammed it into the kitchen.
The metal corpse collided with the stove. A gas stove. As the bot tried to get up the sparks of the combustor cot onto the gas and fire erupted into the room.
But still the robots came. Some started crashing through the ceiling above him, jumping into the growing flames. The scraps of cloth they wore caught the flames, feeding it. The cheap metal used to make them begin to melt as they crawled through the fire. Red hot hands reach up from the mess, almost like a plea for help, a wish to be saved.
Still more came in from the hall. The crashing mess spilled in like a wave of scrap. The mess met each other and became like molten lava of rage. A ghastly horror show, the mindless mob never ceased their march towards Spiderman.
Peter was supposed to be at the library studying for his chem midterm with his friends. Aunt May was waiting for him at home, casserole in the oven. He still had his Halloween costume hanging from his door, a haft made Obi One Kenobi robe. The light of life called for him. Peter ran from the hell before him.
Spiderman crashed out the wall of the 2nd story, flame and metal on his tail. He hit the ground hard, skidding around the cement road. Outside it was almost quiet when compared to the cacophony of chaos inside. Peter looked up and at the half remodeled the building to see the flames climbing quickly up the walls. The robots seemed like ants in a sticky trap. Screams of crushing metal quickly became the roar for fire.
Yet still they crawled out the window and cracked, reaching out to the spider.
Peter stood on shaking legs. Preparing himself for whatever would come out of the hell before him.
The sound of fresh blasters made Peter jump and turn. Around the corner flew Iron man, guns blazing. Tony shot at the doom bots pouring out of the building. Soon Captain America was there too, and then Black widow. Punching and shooting at the robots.
“Holy shit,” Tony called over the coms. “Are you seeing this?”
Peter collapsed, as gracefully as he could, into a sitting position in the alley across the street. Breathe in, breathe out. His heart was pounding against his chest. He was safe but it felt like his mind was still in that building. Mind melting in with the metal and guts.
It took 3 times for him to realize he was being called by Clint.
“Hey Spiderman, you there?” He said squatting down to eye level.
“Loud and clear.” Peter replied, pulling back his shoulders.
“Are you injured? You seem injured.” Clint said. “I know you are touchy about your identity and stuff but we got some great doctors back at the tower and they can patch you up no problem.”
“I’m fine,” Peter lied. He stood up, despite the protests of his body. “Nothing that I can't sleep off.” He lied again.
“Man,” Clint signed. “How many did you have on your tail?” The building was now fully engulfed in flames. Metal was dripping out of the windows. The Avengers stood and watched as Tony sprayed foam out of his arm, safety measures the billionaire had thought of to protect himself incase of a crash. But he couldn’t have expected to play firefighter for a whole building.
“Spiderman!” Captain America called to him. “Why didn’t you call for backup sooner?”
“I did. You were busy.” Peter’s voice was soft and horse from stress and smoke.
“You should have told us you had so many after you!”
“I did. You said you were busy.”
“You shouldn’t have taken on so many. You could have been killed there.”
“Steve,” Clint interrupted in a deep voice. “Lay off him.”
The heroes grew silent. Peter could feel their eyes on him. They examined him for weakness injuries. They waited for him to speak. To ask for help.
The street was silent. Fire crackling. Spiderman’s breaths were labored and stuttered. In the distance a firetruck’s sirens grew louder. A newly wed couple stared down at the scene from their new apartment. The shop owner was passing his store talking to his phone, telling a loved one of the scene in the street.
“My god, that has to be one of the craziest things I’ve seen in this city for a while.” Ironman said as he joined the heroes. “You okay Spiderman? Because I don’t think I am and I just had to see the aftermath.”
Peter laughed. It turned into a cough. He swore he hadn’t moved but at some point he must have blinked because he was suddenly in Clint’s arms.
“Spidey? Spidey? Are you with me? We need a medic, someone call a medic.”
“I’m fine,” Peter said.
“Spiderman, I don’t know what you are but fine is a word I would use to describe.”
“Nothing that I can't sleep off.”
“Spidey, we have very well trained doctors that can care for you.”
“No doctors.” Peter said, pushing himself out of Clint’s lap. Still arms surrounded him. He could tell they were flesh. He knew they were there to support him if he fell. They were not robots, he was fine. Breathe in, breathe out.
“Spiderman, we aren’t going to let you leave when you are this injured.” Captain America said from Peter’s left. If it was another time he would have laughed at how fatherly he sounded. What would little Peter Parker think if he knew he would grow up to work alongside the one and only Captain America? All around him were his heroes, people he had looked up to. Now they surrounded him.
Peter’s stupendous intelligence took over: These were his heroes. They didn’t know he was still a teenager. They thought he was in his mid 20’s. He needed to act like he was in his mid 20’s so they wouldn’t ask too many questions. What does a person in their mid 20’s do? They are self sufficient and don’t need help. Peter doesn’t need their help. If they helped him he would be weak. If they helped him they would take him to a doctor. If they took him to a doctor he would be experimented on, like Oscorp had, like Hydra had. Peter couldn’t let that happen again.
“I’m fine,” Peter finally said. “Really.”
“Where will you go?” Black Widow said, blocking him from leaving. “Can we help you get there? I don’t think you are in a condition to go anywhere by yourself.”
“I am fine,” Peter repeated. “I have people that will help me. You don’t need to waste any more of your time on me.”
“Spiderman, it’s not wasting time to make sure you are safe,” Clint said softly next to Peter.
“You guys are busy.”
“The fight is done, now we heal our-”
“The building is about to collapse,” Peter’s spider sense told him seconds before there was the crashing sound. Fire and rubble tumbled into the street, surrounding the firefighters that were at its base.
The Avengers all turned and Peter slipped away. Silently, he climbed up the walls of the alley and jumped from the roof. Every second he was still more parts of his body started to tell him they were hurt. Every time he moved, they reminded him they were tired.
Somehow Peter made it to Hell’s Kitchen. It hadn’t been his plan. Well, he didn’t have a plan of where to go when he had started swinging anyway. But whenever he was hurt like this he found his way to the familiar fire escape. This is where he went when his injuries were too much for Aunt May to not notice. Where he went to rest. That was the invaluable help they gave him here.
Rest.
Peter pulled the old window open and crawled through. He let himself stop on the hardwood floors of the apartment, ripping off his sweaty mask. He let his body tell him everything he had tried to ignore up to that point. A rib screamed out, broken. Then his head, concussed. The skin on his back cried, burnt. Lungs wheezed, full of ash.
Cold wood pressed into his cheek. The world spinning through his eyes. Suddenly a hand touched his arm. Peter jumped, grabbing the limp of the attacker. Pulling it down, he saw the face attached to it.
“Peter?” Matt Murdock said. “What happened to you?”