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It said a lot about Peter’s life that waking up in a dark room, back up against a wall, with no idea how he even got there, wasn’t all that alarming.
His back and head were resting against something solid, but it wasn’t the wall of the room. His legs were splayed out in front of him, his shoes taken off at some point, leaving him in a pair of mismatched socks. Bringing his arms up, it became apparent that he was in some kind of plastic cylinder, his feet barely touching the other side. He ran his hands alongside the walls on his left and right, pushing ever so slightly but nothing moved.
It took a moment before his eyes adjusted to the complete darkness and had it not been for his enhanced vision, Peter wouldn’t have been able to see anything at all. But now he saw an endless sea of black, his little cylinder seemingly in the middle of it. Looking up he could see the faint outline of the cylinder as it went up, up, up, and then sealed off at the very top. Sitting up a little better, he ran his hands along the edge of the cylinder, finding a very small hole towards the bottom right. He jammed two fingers in the hole, trying to feel what he could. He came up short, the pipe led away somewhere, but nothing he could reach.
Knowing it was ill advised to panic too much, he took several deep breaths and tried to remember what he’d been doing last. The only thing he could remember was leaving Academic Decathlon practice, taking the subway with Ned, walking with him until they had to part. He wasn’t planning on patrolling, his suit was on him but his web shooters had been on his person. But now, he knew they weren’t anymore, he couldn’t feel the pressure of the bands against his wrist anymore. Bringing his wrists up to his face just confirmed that fact.
“Ah, Mr. Parker, glad you’re awake.”
A voice came booming into the room, a stereo sound that made Peter immediately shutter and clutch at his ears.
“Oh,” the voice said, this time much quieter. “That was very loud, wasn’t it? Oops, my bad.”
A single spotlight popped into existence, illuminating a guy standing a few feet away from Peter’s cylinder. He took a few steps forward, his sneakers echoing in the silence, the spotlight following him exactly.
“Hi,” he said, standing close enough for Peter to see him clearly. He had a very handsome face, sharp features, dark eyes, and hair. An abundance of scruff adorned his cheeks and chin but the rest of him looked professional and tailored, with a nice button up shirt and a pair of brown slacks. He reminded Peter of an insurance salesman almost immediately.
“What do you want?” Peter asked, pushing himself into a standing position, not wanting the guy to have the upper hand in any other way. He wasn’t sure if the guy knew he was Spider-man, the web shooters he removed looked like metal bracelets, nothing more. He was better off hiding his hand at this point.
“What, I don’t get a greeting? That’s pretty rude, Peter, I thought your Aunt and Uncle taught you some manners.”
Peter’s mouth slammed shut, as an icy feeling of dread crept down his spine. As much as Spider-man needed to remain anonymous, so did Peter Parker. This man, knowing he was raised by his Aunt and Uncle, indicated he knew something of Peter’s life.
“Ah, yes I know exactly who you are Peter Benjamin Parker. Maybe I should get that out of the way then, right? I know you’re newly seventeen, and happy belated birthday, by the way, I know you attend Midtown School of Science & Technology, are top of your class, and recently returned from the Blip. I know you live in Queens with May Parker, your aunt only by marriage to her late, dear husband Ben Parker. I know your parents, Richard and Mary, died when you were a toddler, in a plane crash. I know you intern for Stark Industries, or at least, you did before the snap. I know you’re best friends with Edward Leeds or Ned, as you call him. And, hell, I even know about your little crush on Michelle Jones-Watson, or MJ as her friends call her.”
The dread he was feeling before magnified with each statement. There was no emotion in the man’s voice, he sounded bored as if he was simply reading a shopping list and not several invasive facts about someone he currently had held captive.
“And,” the man continued. “I know you’re Spider-man.”
Peter opened his mouth to deny it but the man held up a finger. “Nuh uh, don’t even try to deny it, Peter. It’s not worth the back and forth, alright? I know about your relationship with Tony Stark. I know about your little trip to and from space. You really shouldn’t bother denying things, because of all of this? Doesn’t matter. I’m only telling you any of this because I want you to understand how deadly serious I am right now. I don’t care that you’re Spider-man, I don’t care about the grade you got in Spanish or the Ecto-1 Ghostbusters lego kit you were planning on finishing with Ned this weekend. None of that is important to me.”
He paused, walking right up to the cylinder until his nose was almost touching it. Peter took a step forward too, so they were standing directly in front of each other. He tried to give him the best stare he could, coached his face into a hard line, refusing to back down.
“What is important to me is that you answer my questions truthfully.”
“What?” Peter asked. “What questions? Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”
“Peter,” the man said in a sing-song voice. “You haven’t been listening to me, have you? I’m telling you what I want from you and why you’re here. You have information that I need.”
“What information? It seems like you supposedly know everything about me, what more could you possibly want?”
“I would like to know where Tony Stark is.”
“Mr. Stark is dead,” Peter answered flatly, trying to reign in as much emotion as he could. The man already seemed to know about his fatherly relationship with Tony, but there was no reason to prove it to him. As hard as it was just to say those words, he needed to be as unaffected as possible. The less the man could read from him, the better.
“Peter,” the guy said, head going to the side, eyes rolling. “Don’t lie to me. I saw the little charade that you guys put on last month. I saw the photographs of crying superheroes, saw the video of that little girl telling the world just how much she misses her Daddy.” He pretended to cry, circling his hands against his cheeks and frowning. “But I know it’s bullshit, Peter.”
“It’s not,” Peter insisted, swallowing as he took a step back and away from the glass. “Tony died defeating Thanos. I was there, I saw it happen.”
The man threw his hands up in the air. “I knew you’d do this. I knew you’d play this little game like everyone else is. I really, really didn’t want to do this, Peter. But I’m thinking you need a little incentive.”
Snapping his fingers, another spotlight appeared, this time illuminating another cylinder across from Peter, the same general size and shape, but this one holding Ned.
“Ned!” Peter shouted, his fists banging against his cylinder before he could even think about it. Ned was slumped over in the corner, his legs stretched out, chin on his chest. His heart plummeted, seeing his best friend so motionless and trapped.
“Don’t worry,” the guy said, stepping into Peter’s field of vision, cutting off his view of Ned. “He’s alive, he’s just knocked out for now.”
“Let him go! He has nothing to do with this!” Peter shouted, trying to frantically look around the guy’s shoulder.
“Ned can go free,” the guy said. “You just need to tell me where Tony Stark is.”
“Dead!” Peter shouted. “He died on the battlefield!”
Letting out far too much emotion, he knew he was playing right into the man’s hands. This was exactly why he wanted to be anonymous, he couldn’t stand to think of his friends and family being in danger.
“Peter!” The guy shouted, yelling just as loud as Peter was. “You can’t keep lying to me! I know everything and I know Tony Stark is alive.”
“Then why don’t you know where he is then, huh? If you’re so convinced that he’s alive! Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, have any proof?” Peter spat back at him, anger and fear taking over any rational thought he could manage. He’d never felt so undone before, he was losing his cool and patience so quickly.
“Because,” the guy said, tapping his finger on the cylinder. “He’s a bit slippery right now and I just want, well, I want confirmation that he’s alive and kickin’ too.”
“He’s six feet under, okay? He died. I saw it happen, right before my eyes. I would know if he was alive, they wouldn’t lie to me too,” Peter insisted. The memory of the funeral was clear in his mind, the sight of the arc reactor traveling across the lake, as May squeezed his shoulders. He didn’t need to remember this now either, didn’t need that additional pain clouding his senses.
The guy shook his head, moving aside to give Peter another view of Ned. “Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.”
The sound of water came rushing into Peter’s ears and he knew, in less than a second, what the point of the cylinders was. “Ned!” he screamed, pounding against the cylinder, as water began to fill Ned’s cylinder, at an alarming rate. “Ned, wake up!”
As soon as the water started to pool underneath him, Ned jerked awake and immediately jumped to his feet. He stumbled around in the small space, disoriented, slamming himself into the side of the cylinder, seemingly unaware of Peter or the man a few feet away.
“Hi, Ned!” The guy said, waving. “I know this is a little confusing and scary, but I assure you I don’t want to hurt you. I’m more than happy to let you go free, just as soon as your best friend here answers one simple question for me.”
Finally looking up, Ned saw the two of them, he moved forward and started pounding on the cylinder. “Peter!” He shouted, his voice barely able to reach Peter’s advanced hearing. “Help!”
Tears came cascading down his face, all of his emotions bursting from him with the mere thought of something happening to Ned. Ignoring the guy, he focused his attention on Ned, who still looked panicked. “Ned! It’s gonna be fine, okay? Just relax and breathe, I’m getting us out of here.”
“Correct,” the guy said, voice remarkably calm and collective. “You will get both of you out of here, just as soon as you tell me where Tony Stark is.”
“Fuck you!” Peter shouted at the guy. “I’m answering your stupid question and it’s not going to change! Tony Stark is dead, he died at the Avengers Compound months ago okay?”
“Buzz,” the guy said, pretending to press a buzzer in the air. “Wrong answer.”
The amount of water in Ned’s tank began to flow a lot faster, going from an inch or two to almost a foot. Ned looked down again, panicked at what he saw but seemingly unable to do anything about it. He cowered himself in the far corner away from the pipe, but it wasn’t going to do him any good, there was nowhere he could go.
“Peter, I can do this all day you know. It might take hours before the water reaches the top of that cylinder. Imagine the panic and suffering Ned will go through, as the water just keeps coming and coming and he slowly, painfully loses his ability to breathe. Do you know what it’s like when someone drowns? It’s not a pretty thing to witness, Peter.”
“Please,” Peter said, finally turning his attention fully back on the guy. “I don’t know what else you want from me. I’m telling you the truth, okay? Tony died. He’s gone, forever.”
“Stop lying to me, Peter. I really am not trying to get anyone hurt here, okay? I just need answers. I’m really not a bad guy, okay? I need you to understand, Pete, I’m more than willing to let you go alive and well, you just have to answer questions truthfully. Not a hard thing I’m askin’ ya.”
“You’ll let Ned drown! Stop acting like you’re some kind of righteous person! You’re gonna kill both of us because you won’t accept the truth!”
Pounding his fist even harder against the cylinder, making his fists ache in pain but otherwise leaving the cylinder intact. He was using his full Spider-man strength, but the cylinders were remaining steady and free of any signs of cracks.
“Alright then,” the guy said with an overdramatic sigh. “If you won’t answer my question, I guess I’ll have to pick someone else. What about Harold Hogan? Pepper Stark? Or maybe little Morgan Stark? She might break a lot quicker than anyone. Do you want them to answer me? Do you want them to face the consequences if they continue to lie to me?”
Peter knew very well what the guy was doing, playing with Peter’s emotions. He must have known a great deal more about Peter than he was letting on if he knew that Peter would value all those lives before his own.
“Please don’t,” Peter said, hanging his head in shame. “The answer will always be the same, Tony Stark died. Whatever you want from him, you aren’t going to get it.”
“Alright then,” the guy said, taking a step backward, away from Peter. “I hope you enjoy watching your friend drown. When you’re willing and ready to tell me the truth, just give me a holler. Toodles.” He gave Peter and Ned a cheery wave, making Peter’s blood boil even more.
“You haven’t even told me your name,” Peter said, swallowing, eyes watching the look of pure horror on Ned’s face, as he shouted for Peter again.
“Eh,” the guy said. “I guess I sort of have to if I want you to call for me.” He gave a dramatic pause before saying his name, and as soon as he finished, the spotlight on him blinked out.
“The name’s Quinten Beck, but please call me Beck.”
-
Both Ned and Peter had stopped yelling after a while. It was clear to both of them, Quinten Beck was not coming back unless Peter was ready to answer him. Peter’s throat hurt, his vocal cords raw and abused and he had a feeling Ned was suffering from the same.
He had used his full strength against his cylinder over and over, but it didn’t so much as a crack. He rammed his shoulder into it, kicked as hard as he could, even punched it, but nothing worked. Now he sat, slumped down in the corner of his cylinder, watching as his friend floated a few feet from the bottom of his cylinder.
“I’m sorry,” Peter called out. “I’ll get you out of there, Ned. I promise.”
“It’s okay,” Ned called out, his voice echoing in his cylinder. He coughed as he took on some water, kicking with his legs and arms to move a little higher. “I trust you, Peter.”
And Peter hated that more than anything, because right now Ned shouldn’t trust him. Ned should be angry and selfish.
“But I think you should tell the truth,” Ned continued. “I know it sucks but…”
Peter bit his bottom lip, unsure of exactly how he should proceed. Because the truth was, Tony was alive. His death was a lie, so he could retire and live peacefully. Ned didn’t even know it, Peter had kept the truth so tightly hidden. He’d felt so honored to be trusted with the knowledge, to be let into Tony's inner circle, into his family. The mere thought of breaking that trust was terrifying.
But was it more terrifying than letting his friend die?
“I am,” Peter said hoarsely. “Tony died.”
“Peter,” Ned said, gulping, taking on more water by the minute as Peter watched helplessly. He’d be at the top soon. “I know… I know he means a lot to you but… I mean, is it worth…,” he took in a huge amount of water, coughing and flailing around. Peter jumped to his feet, fists on the cylinder as he watched.
“It’s okay!” Peter shouted. “Breath, it’ll be fine, just keep kicking Ned. I’m getting us out of here.”
He resumed his futile efforts, kicking and pounding against the cylinder as hard as he could. Ned bobbed up and down, barely able to keep himself up and Peter was struck with the terrible realization that his best friend really was going to die if he didn’t do something.
Tony, he knew, wouldn’t want Ned to die. Wouldn’t want Peter to hold onto his secret so tightly, but if Beck was willing to kill Ned who knew what he was willing to do to Tony. But then again, Tony was a superhero, he was Iron Man, and while he might be sick right now…
“Beck!” Peter shouted as loud as he could. “Beck! I’ll tell you the truth now!”
The spotlight snapped into life, illuminating Beck’s and his grinning face. “Oh, goodie. Although, I’m really surprised you cut it this close to the wire. I thought for sure Spider-man valued the life of an innocent person over someone like Stark.”
“Turn off the water,” Peter insisted. “I’ll tell you when you turn off the water.”
Beck laughed, careless and high pitched. “It’s really funny to me that you think you have any leverage at all, but I’ll humor you.” He snapped his fingers and the water stopped, Ned was still buoyed, his head inches from the top of the cylinder but he was moving less frantically. “And look, I’ll even start draining it out once I get my answer.”
“You’re right, Tony survived,” Peter said and Beck clapped his hands together, a grin so large it took up his entire face.
“Oh, goodie,” Beck answered, so casually and cheerfully. It was a strong disconnect from where Peter was, from the defeat, fear, and sadness that laced his voice. Beck really did like the game he was playing with them. And that scared Peter more than anything else.
He snapped his fingers again, the water from Ned’s cylinder began to drain, slowly but steadily and Peter watched as Ned was lowered towards the bottom once more. “Now let us go,” Peter said sternly, but a part of him knew what was going to happen.
“Hmm, I said that I would, didn’t I? Well, I mean, I’m going to let Ned go now, as soon as that water drains away, I’ll drop him off where I found him but you, Peter, are going to stick around just a little bit longer.”
“You promised,” Peter said weakly, but he knew, deep down inside, this was what Beck would do.
“I did. I just never said exactly when you’d be free to go. Don’t worry, Ned will be safe. I’m a man of my word.”
“What more do you want from me? I told you where he was.”
“Well,” Beck said, tilting his head from left to right. “I never said when I’d let you go, really. And I did say questions, Peter. You should have paid attention to that fact.”
The spotlight illuminated on both Beck and Ned clicked back off, drowning Peter in darkness.
-
It felt like hours had passed, Peter pounding his fists on the cylinder, yelling for both Ned and Beck. The space remained dark, Peter couldn’t even see the cylinder Ned had been in, or hear a single sound. The only thing he could do was trust Beck’s assurance that Ned was going to be let go.
He hated himself, just a little, for giving up the fact that Tony was alive to anyone. He knew Tony would have wanted him to, knew he wouldn’t want Ned’s death in Peter's hands but that didn’t mean he didn't feel guilty. The only hope he had was Beck not figuring out where Tony lived, or worse, forcing Peter to give up an address.
A spotlight illuminated the room on Beck once more, as he walked over to Peter’s cylinder. Jumping up, Peter stood, fists against the plastic.
“Are you enjoying your time here?” Beck asked, so casually that it threw Peter for a loop. Before he could respond Beck continued, walking around Peter’s cylinder. “I know I haven’t fed you just yet, I’m sure your stomach is begging for it but you’ve got some more questions to answer before I’d consider it.”
“I answered your question,” Peter said angrily, gritting his teeth.
“Yes, you’re right, but that was one question. I have one more for you, it’s an important one too But this time we’re going to jump straight into things, okay? No more back and forth, I see now that I should have started off strong with the collateral damage part..”
After another snap of his fingers, another spotlight popped into existence, revealing another cylinder, this one housing May’s crumbled up form.
“MAY!” Peter screamed, pounding his fists on his cylinder, all sense of time and space disappeared from his brain. All he could focus on was seeing May laying there, possibly hurt and in danger. “MAY!”
“Alright, alright,” Beck said, stepping in front of Peter, blocking his view. He moved, but Beck moved with him again. “Peter, Peter, pay attention to me, or I just kill her right now. I have an alternative ready to go, I can bring MJ into his just as easily.”
Peter stopped moving, fists against the cylinder still, but eyes directly onto Beck.
“Good. Anyway, same deal as before, you tell me what I want to know, May goes home tonight, you don’t, then she goes home in a body bag. Your choice.”
“You’re a psycho,” Peter grounded out. “She has nothing to do with Tony, she’s innocent.”
“No, Peter. She’s your Aunt, she’s directly involved with you and Stark. Like I said before, she’s collateral damage.”
Peter flinched, the words sinking into his heart.
“You should ask Stark about that sometime. He’s dealt with that kinda damage a lot, he should know how it goes. Anyways, now is not the time for that conversation. So,” Beck took a step back, letting Peter see the cylinder again. “I’ve got another question for you and I’m sure you can figure out what’s going to happen. You answer my question, May goes free. You don’t, then, well instead of drowning, this time we have another type of torture.”
Pausing, Beck gave him a game show host smile, like he was actually enjoying everything. “The cylinders you’re in can be airtight and in May’s case, she’ll have about, hmm, an hour of air once I ask you the question. So you can either tell me right away or do what you did with Ned, wait around until it’s the last minute. But this time, May would be suffering quite a bit more. Do you know what hypoxia is like? Do you know how long someone can go without oxygen before brain damage sets in? Well, if you want then, then you can keep your mouth shut.”
“Fuck you,” Peter spat. “If you want to hurt someone, hurt me!”
“Ah, you see, Peter, I’ve learned a lot about you in the last few months. I planned to grab and torture you, but then I realized you care more about others than you do yourself. I’m sure if I would have put you in here, drowned you, or starved you of oxygen, you’d rather die than give up any information. So really, this is all because of you.”
Beck, of course, was right. He’d rather die than give up Tony, or anything that could hurt others. He would willingly sacrifice himself if it meant keeping people safe.
“Something to think about for the future,” Beck offered. “Anyway, question time. After Tony supposedly died, he gave you a pair of glasses. That’s not a question, by the way, it’s a fact. I have them already, so don’t try to deny it. Anyway, I’d like to use these glasses but the second I try, it will alert Stark that someone other than you has them. So, Peter, what’s the code to access them?”
“I don’t know-” Peter started, but Beck made a tsk, tsk, sound and then projected against May’s cylinder was a countdown, 59:54 with the seconds number ticking away.
“I have the glasses, Peter. I know Stark gave them to you, probably gave them a stupid acronym or something. Right? Because that’s his thing, taking shit that doesn’t belong to him and giving it a stupid name.”
Peter had been wondering what this whole thing was about and now, he realized Beck wasn’t just unhinged, he was unhinged and bitter. He wanted revenge on Tony because he thought Tony stole something from him, but Peter knew that would never be the case. Tony wouldn’t just take something and pretend he created it, he was a genius, he didn’t need to do that at all.
There was a part of Peter that wanted to keep up the lie, pretending he didn’t know what Beck was talking about. There was a chance, a small one, that he didn’t have the glasses after all. Peter didn’t have them on his person when he was snatched, they were secure in his apartment.
But he managed to get Ned and May, so clearly Beck knew how to get what he wanted.
“HEIR,” Peter said. “The name is HEIR.”
“Ohh, what does that mean then? That doesn’t count as my third question, by the way. I’m just genuinely curious.”
“Hero Even In Retirement.”
Beck laughed a little hysterically, far more than what was warranted from the joke. The minutes behind May were ticking down, Peter was relieved she was still knocked out for this part. He couldn’t bear thinking she knew what was happening, that Peter was standing there, toying with her life.
Because he knew Tony had to be coming soon. He might be hiding away from the world, but the second Ned, Peter, and May went missing, Tony would be here. Peter didn’t get a chance to send out his SOS alarm but Ned or May might have and now that Ned was hopefully free, he had to think Ned would have called for help.
“Just as narcissistic and terrible as I thought it would be,” Beck said, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. “Anway, Peter, what’s the code?”
“There isn’t any, it’s based on ID scans. If you aren’t scanned in the system, it will never accept you.”
Beck stared at him, scrunching up his lips and nose as if he was thinking. Peter had to try and go with the lie, had to make it sound like it was a truth. Which, partially, it was. He could, in theory, give the glasses over to Beck with a passcode if he wanted to.
But the glasses were bigger than just Peter. They gave him unlimited access to Stark Industries, which included every single file, system, weapon, and drone they had to offer. Giving this to someone like Beck would be handing a madman the keys to the city.
“I don’t know,” Beck said after a minute. “It doesn’t sound like a very good thing, does it? What if someone happened and you needed Ned or, maybe, your girlfriend to call for help?”
“They are in the system too,” Peter answered quickly, coming up with the lie on the spot but adding. “But they have limited access. They couldn’t do everything, just call for help.”
Peter didn’t want to talk too much about what the glasses could do and didn't want to give Beck any more information he might not already have. The glasses were supposed to be a secret, not even SHIELD knew about them. Peter didn’t know how Beck would, so he was hoping maybe Beck only knew they existed and not what could be done with them.
“You know, Peter, I’m kind of surprised at how willing you seem to be to let your dear precious Aunt die. I mean, maybe that’s what you want? Maybe you want to be an orphan again so Daddy Stark can adopt you and live happily ever after?”
“No,” Peter insisted, eyes glued to the countdown, 46:34. “I’m telling you the truth. I don’t have an authorization code. The only person who has that is Tony. If you put on the glasses, they will scan you and once they know you aren’t authorized, they set out an SOS and become obsolete.”
Beck let out a frustrated sigh. “Alright, alright, change of plans then. I’m versatile, I can work around that.”
“I can’t give you anything else, Beck. There’s nothing I can do for you, I can’t just make HEIR accept you.”
“Ah yes, you’ve said that, but you also told me who can, right? And that would be Tony Stark.”
Peter realized his mistake. “Tony wouldn’t. Even if you threatened me or anyone else.”
“You don’t know that for sure, do you Peter? You don’t know what Stark would do in this situation. Neither do I, to be honest. I mean, I really didn’t want to kill anyone but if it happens, then it happens, you know?”
“You’re a sick bastard, Beck.”
“I’m aware,” Beck said happily. “So, here’s the deal. You’re gonna call Stark and together we are going to let him know that he needs to come on down here to get his little spider kid back. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll come alone and not fuck this up. I’ll just remind him that I have you, May, and maybe a few other surprises as well. If Stark really cares for you, then he’ll show up and we can have our little fun.”
Peter almost told the truth, almost told Beck he could indeed, hand over HEIR but he snapped his mouth shut. As much as he hated bringing Tony into this, it might be good to have him here. Tony would come alone if he knew Peter and May were in danger, but Tony was smart and he’d come up with a way to save them.
“So, I’m going to go get camera ready,” Beck said. “And just because you’re telling the truth, you’ll be fed in a bit. Remember, don’t bite the hand that feeds you literally, because I have May still and who knows, maybe someone else too. I might be keeping her alive right now but nothing stops me from killing her.”
Peter had zero energy left, he just glared at Beck, who just smiled back at him. “See you in a bit!”
-
Shortly after Beck, another man came in, holding a tray of food.
“Beck said to stay still or you’ll suffer the consequences,” the man said, in a voice much smaller and weaker than Beck’s had been, but Peter still believed him. “Up against the back wall, hands above your head.”
Doing as he was told, Peter wasn’t sure how he’d be fed, but the man pressed his hand against the cylinder and a small slot opened and he pushed the food in. Peter barely caught it before it fell to the ground. The slot closed the second the food went through it and the man left without another word.
The food wasn’t all that exciting or good, just peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich, a bag of stale chips, and a single water bottle. It was not good enough for Peter, who hadn’t had dinner yet and whose stomach ached with hunger.
Once he finished, Beck came back into the room, holding Peter’s phone in his hand. “Alright, Petey pie, let’s get this show on the road. Remember, I’ve got May here still so you know, no funny business. We’re just gonna let Stark know where he can find you and etcetera, etcetera. I’ll handle most of the talking, you just need to give Stark the best puppy dog eyes you can.”
Peter didn’t say anything, biting down on his lower lip to keep from snapping back at the man. Beck smiled, bringing up Peter’s phone in front of his face, so Peter was in the picture behind his head.
“Aw, is he really on your phone as Iron Dad? That’s just, that’s pathetically sweet, Petey,” Beck said before pressing the video call. It rang twice before Tony picked up, his face appearing across the screen.
“Pete?” he said in a worried voice. “Where are you?”
“Hi!” Beck said, Tony, looked shocked for a second before his face set into a glare. “Who the fuck are you and what are you doing to my kid?”
“Um, rude,” Beck said. “You know exactly who I am, so don’t pretend. And I think, by now, you realized exactly what’s happened, right? I’ve got a few things that might interest you, one of them is behind me now. Petey, wave to Iron Daddy, okay?”
Hating it, Peter listened, giving Tony a small wave, hoping his facial expressions showed how much of a bad time he was having here.
“I hope you can remember me soon, Tony. Think back really hard, to a certain presentation you gave once. How you butchered my creation beyond recognition? Come on, I know you know. You’re that much of an asshole, you remember everyone you stole from.”
“Quinten Beck,” Tony spat out like the name alone was acid. “I remember you, you smiley bastard. What do you want with my kid?”
“Ah, well, I don’t want to give the whole thing away, Stark but I’m glad you were able to jog your memory. Anyway, Petey and I are playing a game of Truth or Dare, or Truth or Die, honestly and we need your assistance. Think of this as Peter’s Phone a Friend option. I’m going to text you some coordinates and you need to show up, alone with zero tech, zero help, and zero tricks.”
“Let the kid go first. Once he’s out of the way we can deal with this as adults.”
“I don’t think so,” Beck answered. “Because I don’t trust you at all, Stark. Not one single bit, so if you do come with your friends or any tech, I’m just gonna go ahead and kill Peter here. I mean, I don’t want to, I kinda like the kid, he’s smart and talented, but I don’t mind it one bit.”
Tony looked past Beck, to catch Peter’s eyes. “Fine,” he grounded out. “I’ll be there.”
“Goodie, see you then!” Beck said with excitement. “Say goodbye, Petey.”
Peter waved instead, holding back tears. It was going to be his fault that Tony was here now, that Beck not only knew he was alive but was now getting the man in person, the man who he hated so much. Hanging up the phone, Beck hit some buttons, Peter was sure he was sending Tony the coordinates.
“Enjoy your dinner?” Beck asked casually as if he was just hanging out with Peter and not holding him hostage. “I know it’s not much, but most of our budget went to set up, not catering.”
When Peter refused to respond, Beck rolled his eyes. “Alright, whatever, hopefully, Stark will be here soon because you’re gonna be pretty bored when I leave you alone in the dark.”
Not responding again, Peter sat down against the wall of the cylinder, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oooh, silent treatment? I mean, I guess you’re a teenager, you do these sorts of things,” he said with a sigh, before giving Peter a wave and walking away.
-
At some point, despite trying not to, Peter fell asleep. It wasn’t hard, it was probably almost 10:00, maybe even later at that point. He had no idea how long he was even out between leaving the subway and getting kidnapped, for all he knew, it was a few days later. Time wasn’t that easy to tell when you were alone in a dark room, being held prisoner by a psychopath. The only constant was the ache of hunger and the headache that had started blooming.
The spotlight sizzled back into life, illuminating Beck, who was stalking Peter. “Hello!” he cheerfully said. “So, good news, Stark has arrived,” he snapped his fingers, illuminating another spotlight, this one over Tony, who sat, not in a cylinder but instead in a normal chair. He was awake, eyes glaring at the two of them. “He’s not saying a word like a good little kidnap victim, or risk having something terrible happen to you.
Peter couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like Tony’s arms were tied behind his back. But he knew his mentor, he could so easily get out of this situation. He was Iron Man, he might be retired, but he was still a superhero. The fact that he so easily went with Beck’s plan and wasn’t already mounting his escape, worried him.
“So, just to make things a little more,” he paused and did jazz hands, “exciting, I’m going to add a few more variables into the mix.”
Snapping his fingers two more times, two other spotlights showed up on both sides of Tony, one a cylinder with May and the other with MJ. Peter was on his feet in a second, pounding against the wall. This time, May was up and awake, looking worried, as was MJ who also smacked her hands against the cylinder.
They both were shouting, their mouths moving, but Peter couldn’t hear a thing. Not caring, Peter kept shouting back to them, their names, along with Tony’s over and over again.
“I know, I know,” Beck said, holding up his hand. “But listen, I’m going to give Stark the same chance I gave you and it’s far more fun if there are three of you. Because you weren’t willing to kill people to protect Stark, I just want to see how many people he’s willing to kill to protect himself. Maybe then, Peter, stop screaming please, you’re only going to give everyone a headache.”
Peter didn’t stop and Beck, for the first time, looked a little flustered. “Peter. Parker. PETER BENJAMIN PARKER!” He shouted, causing Peter to snap his mouth shut. “God, just, I’ve got this whole speech planned and practiced, so you need to listen to it.” He put his hands down, pressing them down his shirt. “Okay? See, they are both alive for now and I promise I didn’t hurt a single hair on their heads.”
They both looked okay, or as, okay as two kidnapped people looked. May’s face was pale, she was wearing what looked like her pajamas. MJ was wearing the sweater he’d last seen her at practice in, her hair messy pulled away from her face. She was mouthing something he couldn’t make out, no matter how hard he squinted at her. He couldn’t see any physical damage, no bruises or bleeding, which made his heart calm a little.
But only a little.
“Alright,” Beck said, clapping his hands together. “You did a good job with your game, Peter. So now we’re going to let Stark play.”
“You’ve seen Saw one too many times,” Tony finally spoke and Peter looked over at him, glad he could at least hear his mentor’s voice. It didn’t make anything better, but it was a level of comfort for Peter, one he needed.
“Actually,” Beck said, turning on his heels towards Tony. “If this was Saw, I’d be asking you if you wanted to play a game,” he said imitating Jigsaw’s voice, “but you’ve got no choice in the matter. Small different, but it’s the important part here.”
“Whatever,” Tony gruffed. “Let’s get it over with.”
“First of all,” Beck said, ignoring pretty much anything Tony was saying. “I should let you know that to save his best friend’s life, Peter gave up the whole Tony Stark is dead thing. I mean, it took him like 30 minutes, but he sang like a canary.”
“Not mad one bit,” Tony responded. “Proud of you Pete, I know how much you love Ned. I wouldn’t want him to die just for me. Secret was bound to get out sooner or later.”
“Touching,” Beck responded, then faked shoving his finger down his throat. “Secondly, he also gave up the fact that only you can turn over, and it pains me to call them nice, HEIR, in exchange for his dear sweet Aunt’s life.” Beck turned and waved to May. “Hi Maybelle, such a pretty name, by the way, sorry you had to come back to this.”
May shouted something, her hands pounding against the cylinder before she suddenly flipped Beck off, who laughed so loud it made Peter’s ears ring. “Oh that’s amazing, thank you, Maybelle. I can see where you get some of your sass from Petey, she’s a gem.”
“Jesus Christ, Beck,” Tony said. “You are a psychopath. Firing you was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Wrong!” Beck shouted, pivoting back towards Tony. “It’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. I could have taken your company to the next level, Stark. We could have worked together to create something wonderful and amazing and not… and not make a joke product with a joke name.”
He turned back to Peter. “I wasn’t planning on doing the villain monologue but I think maybe you should know the bullshit your mentor did. I have created something Pete, my whole life’s work went into creating a holographic illusion technology. I was going to change the world with my offering, with what I put my heart, body, and soul into. A revolutionary breakthrough with limitless applications, which Stark turned into a self-therapy machine and renamed it..,” he sighed, another small slip of his composure. “Stark, tell Peter what you renamed it.”
“BARF,” Tony announced, proudly. “Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing.”
“He renamed my life's work BARF. Then he fired me, saying I was unstable,” Beck said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I can completely understand why,” Peter answered, which only seemed to distress Beck more. He put his hand on his forehead, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.
“Both of you, the same smarmy self important attitudes,” he grunted. Peter’s eyes met Tony's and he looked a little proud, which just filled Peter with even more hope things would go his way.
It took several seconds for Beck to come back to his car salesman persona but soon he was standing tall and confident once more. “Now that you understand, Pete, it’s time to play.”
Beck walked over closer to Tony, standing in between the two of them. “As I was saying, Stark, Peter here let me know all about HEIR. I know that you’re the only one who can pass on control to me.” He paused, eyeing Tony as if he was waiting to hear otherwise.
Without missing a beat, Tony agreed. “Yeah, why would I give that power to a teenager.”
Peter sighed in relief, hoping Beck didn’t notice, but the man was too busy playing it up for Tony.
“So, that’s what you’re going to do. If you say no, then one of them,” he gestured towards the three cylinders. “Will die, just like that. No countdown, no nothing. I snap my finger, the cylinder loses all oxygen immediately and you watch someone suffocate in a matter of minutes.”
Peter felt like he was going to throw up, he slammed his fists on the cylinder, ready to tell the truth and give up the information. He had no idea what Tony would do, he didn’t think the man who let any of them die… but would he?
“How do I know you won't just kill all of us once you get what you want?” Tony asked, not looking back at Peter.
“Trust,” Beck said simply. “Or you risk it all. I mean, honestly, I let Ned go free. That has to count for something. I’ve had the power to kill any of you at any time now and I just, you know, haven’t.”
It didn’t look like Tony was buying anything Beck was selling and Peter really wasn’t either. Beck had all the power here, he didn’t even have to play a game. He could just start killing them until Tony said the truth.
And then Tony said something that made Peter’s blood run cold. “I don’t believe you’re going to kill anyone, Beck.”
The room was deadly silent, Peter bit down on his lip so hard he tasted blood, too scared to scream out and make things worse.
Tony wouldn’t, right? He wouldn’t… just let May or MJ or him die right? He wouldn’t play with fire like this. Yeah, Peter took a little too long to answer with Ned, but he didn’t know Beck as he does now. And it sounded like Tony knew how unstable Beck was.
“Oh, oh,” Beck said, his voice dripping with excitement like he’d been waiting for this the entire time. Like all he wants to do is cause havoc. And at that moment, he knew, he just totally knew, Beck would kill all of them if Tony didn’t play the game. “Do you really want to risk it, Stark?”
“Sure,” Tony said casually and something cracked in Peter’s heart.
“No!” he called out, he could see May and MJ doing the same. “Tony! He’s going to kill them!”
“Pete,” Tony said, addressing him for the first time. “It’ll be fine.”
“Please!” Peter shouted. “Beck! I was lying before!”
“Peter,” Tony pressed. “It’ll be fine, trust me.”
And Peter did, of course, he always did, so he stopped, letting out a sob, frantically trying to keep himself together. He had to trust Tony, he had to.
Beck clapped his hands together in glee. “Oh now, we’re having fun. Okay, okay, so Tony. Pick who dies. Go ahead, choose which one of the three kicks the bucket and then we’ll see how much Petey pie over here is gonna trust you.”
“Please,” Peter said softly, a prayer. “Please don’t kill them, please.”
Beck snapped his fingers. “Silence,” he said, not looking at Peter. “I think I’ve heard enough from you, Petey. Let Stark make this decision without hearing you cry and moan.”
And then, like a dagger into his heart, Tony said. “MJ.”
Screaming as Beck snapped his fingers, he watched MJ’s eyes widen, her hands automatically going to her throat as she looked in desperate need of air. Peter screamed and screamed, his voice reverberating off the cylinder, his fists pounding so hard, buries were already blooming to life. MJ dropped to the ground in a heap of limbs, her eyes locked onto Peter, until there was nothing left in them. She went motionless, her body completely slumped and Peter fell to the floor with her, screaming and crying.
“Buzz,” Beck said, his voice echoing over Peter’s. “Looks like you guessed wrong, Stark. So, again, code or choose someone else.”
Peter looked at Tony, who wasn’t crying, wasn’t screaming, just staring at Beck. Peter screamed and screamed, knowing Tony couldn’t hear him but he had to know, had to know Peter was losing it.
“ME!!” He yelled, hoping Tony would make the choice. “PLEASE, CHOOSE ME! TONY! TONY!”
He looked over to May, who had fallen to her knees, looking exhausted and scared. And he almost wished he hadn’t looked at her again, couldn’t stand knowing the last image he’d have of her would be like this.
He didn’t even hear Tony say May’s name, he didn’t even need to. The oxygen cut out and May claw at her throat, eyes locked onto Peter’s. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. He needed to see her, to tell her everything with just his eyes, that he loved her, that he thought of her as his Mom, always, forever.
When May stopped moving, Beck was laughing, his voice booming over Peter. “Look what you did, Stark. Do you see your son now? He’s broken, isn’t he? Did you really think I’d just let everyone walk away from this?”
It didn’t matter what Tony was saying, Peter, pushed it out of his mind. Everything felt numb, his entire body was nothing anymore, he was just floating somewhere between life and death, the emptiness of a universe without May Parker and Michelle Jones-Watson, a universe where Tony, the man he thought of as a father, was responsible for so much loss.
He broke apart into a million pieces.
“Beck!” he shouted hoarsely. “I have the code! I lied to you! I lied, please, Beck!”
He couldn’t even tell if his voice carried, or if Beck even cared anymore.
“Ohh,” Beck said, Peter looked up to see him standing close. “Is that so, Petey? See, I really believed you at first, but now I think, well, now I think you’ll tell the truth even if it kills you right?”
“Yes,” Peter said, emotions gone, into the empty universe.
“Even if it means killing Tony Stark?”
Peter knew this question was coming, he didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
Beck pulled something from his pocket, Peter knew it was a gun. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see it, just wanting it to be over with. The gunshot made him flinch, his entire body jerking from its spot on the floor.
If Tony made a sound, he didn’t hear it.
When Peter’s eyes opened again, the only spotlight was on Beck. He had already pulled HEIR, placing them on the bridge of his nose.
They looked better on him than they did Peter anyway.
“When you get them on,” Peter said in a monotone voice, the words just automatic and useless. “He’ll ask for a code, it’s just,” Peter swallowed. “Underoos.”
Beck cooed. “That’s cute, easy to fucking guess, but cute. Kinda makes this whole thing not worth having done, to be honest. I could have just guessed this.”
That, of all things, filled Peter with rage.
He lost the lives of the people he loved, over a password that would have been easily guessed.
He didn’t think he could be any more broken.
Beck pulled the glasses on, cackling like a mad scientist in a B movie, overjoyed and overpowered.
And then, out of nowhere, the sound of running and screaming and a repulsor blast. Something opened up, flooding light into what looked like an empty warehouse. Iron Man walked in, mask down, but repulsor up and blasting at Beck.
Peter’s brain shut down, the sight he was seeing made no sense. Tony was dead, he knew it. He didn’t see it, but it didn’t matter. There was no way he escaped and then suited up.
He didn’t move.
Iron Man engaged Beck, shouting and brandishing a gun that was useless against the Iron Man suit. Peter closed his eyes, not caring one bit what was happening. Either Beck was doing something weird, or Peter’s mind finally broke and he was just hallucinating a rescue.
One that came too late.
“Pete?” Tony’s voice floated into his ears, like the worst song he’d ever heard. “Come on, kiddo. You can open your eyes now, I’m here.”
Peter didn’t answer, the cylinder moved, lifting and causing Peter to fall to the ground, not caring where his body went. Tony must have rushed to him, lifting Peter onto his lap.
“Come on, kiddie. Everything’s alright now, okay? I’m here, everyone’s alive, Pete. What Beck showed you, it wasn’t real.”
Peter kept his eyes stubbornly closed, Tony’s pleading continued. “Please, kid. I know it was scary, I know what you saw but none of it happened. Please, Pete, I love you so much, kid. Everyone’s alive, just come on, get up and see, I promise. Just a few steps and you’ll know for sure.”
It didn’t matter, Peter thought to himself.
Nothing really mattered.