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When Tony burst into the area he had pinpointed Peter’s last location to, he did not expect his kid to be strapped against a diagonally-angled table with a ventilator in his mouth. His heart clenched as he fisted his hand in both anger, a way to ground himself, and pain. Peter had been here for nearly a week and a half and was already on a ventilator–which led to his question. Why the heck was his kid on a ventilator?
Tony approached the table slowly, unsure of what to do. There were wires galore entering and exiting his kid’s body and a tube shoved down his throat–how the heck was Tony supposed to react to that? He swallows, his hands moving from in front of him to down at his sides and up and down again. He frowns when he notices the sticky pads used for EEGs attached to the kid’s temples and forehead, along with his chest and some on his arms. Had . . .
Had whoever took him been experimenting on him?
Tony clenched his fist tighter and bit the inside of his mouth, promptly trying very very extremely hard not to flip his lid. He was finding that task abnormally daunting, though. Especially more so when he notices two small tablets laying on small circular tables attached to the horrendous piece of could you even call it furniture? on either side. One of them was suspiciously placed at an angle where Tony could and/or would see it, as if the kidnapper was taunting him.
That tablet was showing Peter’s vital signs–heart rate, brain waves, the works. Tony frowned at the brain waves.
The other one wasn’t propped up by the case like that one, but instead was turned off and laid flat, screen facing the ceiling. Tony was about to walk over to it so he could see what in the world was going on when a voice met his ears. It came from the previously empty doorway on the other side of the room. Besides that hallway, the wooden-walled room was literally empty.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Mister Stark.”
Mister Stark, Tony thought. Only one person is allowed to call me that and that is only because he is too polite for his own good and refuses to call me anything else.
“What?” is what he grinds out instead. “Why?”
The man doesn’t answer him, instead just claps his hands together and walks forward a couple steps, then paces back and forth in front of the wall to Tony’s left. Whoever chose to place Peter in the middle of this horrid room was beyond him, and probably didn’t do very well in interior design class.
“I just think the mind is so neat,” the man says. “You know, our friend Peter, here, has the highest GPA out of all his peers?”
Of course he knows that. And . . . our friend?
Tony doesn’t say anything, so the man continues.
“I was wondering how long it would take him to break.” Something gleams in his eyes.
“ What did you do ?!” Tony threatens, abandoning his spot and walking fast and angrily at the man. He picks him up by the shirt and yells in his face. “ WHAT DID YOU DO ?!”
The man shoves him off. “Let me show you.”
It’s said nonchalantly, as if Peter is just a science experiment, a lab monkey, even, and not a literal freaking child.
It makes Tony sick.
Nevertheless he turns around, watching the man as he walks over to Peter and picks up the switched off tablet. He presses a few buttons, looking disgustingly impressed, and removes the adhesives from Peter’s body, talking to him softly and soothingly as he does so, then replaces them with wireless ones. Then–
Then all he does is tap a singular button and Peter wakes up with a grunt.
“I haven’t gotten to the talking part yet, so he can’t do that right now. But what I have done is impressive.”
“What did you do?” Tony repeats his question from earlier.
“So I can either talk into the microphone this tablet has–” he grabs a shirt and lays it on Peter. “Peter, put your shirt on.”
Peter sits up and does so with no hesitation.
“Or I can do it manually with the buttons here. Hey Peter, do you want to stand up?”
Peter doesn’t respond, and his eyes are blank. Empty. Not there.
Peter’s not in there.
“Of course you do! That was a silly question to ask.” the man exclaims as he pushes some buttons on the tablet, which manually leads Peter to stand up and off the table. “ Not that you have much–or any–choice in the matter . . .” the man adds quietly.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, he has no idea what’s going on, Mister Stark.”
“So you’ve just, what? Brainwashed him? Turned him into your puppet? A mindless zombie?”
Mindless.
“Not exactly. His brain still sends the signals to his body so it knows what to do, but he just . . . can’t do it on his own.” the man shakes the tablet. “That’s what this is for.”
“ You send signals to his brain through that tablet and he just does it ?”
The man shrugs. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“And he has no say?”
“None whatsoever.” he chuckles. “ Tony, he doesn’t even realize this is happening. He doesn’t even know you’re here. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
Tony balks at him. “You’re one sick puppy.”
The man frowns. “‘Sick puppy’ . . . good idea. Sic ‘em, boy.” he says, and then Peter launches at him.
Tony realizes a lot of things, then. Two of them being: 1) Peter has super strength, which leads to number two: he has no control over it. There’s no consciousness in his mind to be aware of it.
He also realizes that he may very well end up having to fight his kid.
Tony feels sick again.
“Kid, I’m not going to fight you.” he swallows, the statement contradictory to what he’d been thinking seconds ago.
“Oh, but Mister Stark, I think you’ll have to.”
“Kid,” Tony tries as Peter walks towards him slowly. “Are you in there?”
The man chuckles.
“Please, buddy. You’re so so so smart. You’re just gonna let some idiot control your brainwaves?”
Peter continues to walk towards.
“Buddy, Pete, please. You’ve never given up a day in your life. Don’t give up now. Peter, come back!”
“He’s not here, Mister Stark.” Tony sees red at the man’s comment. “He hasn’t been for a long time.”
Peter launches.
“Tones!” Rhodey’s voice calls from somewhere.
Tony has managed to pin Peter down using the Iron Man suit, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not still trying to hurt Tony.
“Rhodey!” Tony cries, thankful for his best friend. His eyes are watery from the look in Peter’s eyes–or lack thereof. Mindless, lifeless, not there, empty, dark.
Gone.
“Tony, what the heck?”
“Rhodey, come hold him down!”
The man chuckles. Rhodey points to him.
“Can I assume he’s the bad guy?”
Tony nods at him, eyes still watery, fearful, and angry. How many emotions could you feel at once before you exploded?
Speaking of explosions, with no hesitation whatsoever, Rhodey lifts his arm and blasts the man in the face.
Rhodey, the tablet!” he yells, gesturing to where the evil dude dropped it and it slid across the floor. His friend runs and grabs it, and Tony yells again. “Come hold him!” Tony lets go and grabs the tablet from his friend, who asks what he needs it for.
Peter gets up, but Rhodey lunges at the kid and wraps his arms around him and holds him from the back, Peter still struggling to escape from his prison. Tony frantically looks at the buttons on the touch screen in his hands. Now, Tony’s a genius, sure, but these buttons make zero sense.
He has a hunch it’s the button with the power symbol on it, but if he’s wrong then it could mean that it turns off Peter’s brainwaves or something and that’s the last thing he wants to happen.
He cringes when he realizes that Peter might hear his voice when he does what he does next.
“Peter,” he chokes. “Peter, go to sleep.”
The kid just slumps in Rhodey’s arms.
“Did you just–” Rhodey looks absolutely horrified. “Did you just turn him off ?”
Tony just looks at him, and it tells Rhodey everything he needs to know.
“Oh,” he scowls at the dead man, and Tony walks over to him.
And blasts him until his face burns off.
“Tones, let’s go.” Rhodey tells him, hoisting Peter into his arms.
“Right,” Tony agrees, taking his kid from Peter. “I’m gonna take care of you, huh? That’s my job, right?” he talks to the unconscious Peter soothingly, heart twisting when he realizes that the kid won’t wake up unless he tells him to.
He leaves the building and starts to fly off, Rhodey falling closely behind him. When his best friend catches up he grins at him, motioning with his head towards the house they’d been in just moments ago. Tony’s eyebrow twitches in confusion, but both men turn around anyway.
The building explodes.
Tony watches in morbid satisfaction. “Rhodey, you’re awesome. At everything.”
“Yeah, well,” Rhodey shrugs. “He doesn’t call me Uncle Rhodey for nothing.”