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The night hadn't looked too good from the start. Peter had tried, really tried, not to patrol at night, but he'd been so busy with school that he hadn't had a chance to be the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man all week, So he'd decided to patrol at night for a change. He was out of his room by midnight, and had already been patrolling for an hour.
He had arrested a night-time bike thief, retrieved a cat stuck high up in a tree, and prevented two people from being mugged in the street. All rather conclusive so far, but Peter could still feel his eyes slowly closing without his allowing them to.
He decided never to patrol so late again without at least two or three good nights' sleep first.
He could have gone home now, had he not heard suspicious noises in an adjacent street. He quickly approached the edge of the roof to see who was doing all the racket. In front of a small building, where the lights were off, a person dressed all in black waited silently. Peter frowned. He quickly observed the building's window. A jewelry store.
A second person suddenly shouted to the person outside to come and help.
They're robbing the jewelry store , Peter thought immediately. He let himself slide to the ground, slowing his fall with his webs. When he entered the jewelry store, the two people were filling large garbage bags with jewelry.
Peter coughed to attract their attention. Slowly, the two people dressed in black turned towards him, and a silence followed. Then, they began to run, towards a back door, Peter guessed.
"Looking for the garbage cans?" he shouted, following them.
First, he threw his webs at the garbage bags still held by the criminals, pinning them to the ground. One of the criminals stopped and reached for the bag, but the second yelled at him and forced him to continue. But this stop had allowed Peter to get closer to the thieves, and he sent the first criminal into the wall before pinning him down.
He turned to the second, and saw the gun too late. Quickly, he tried to dodge the bullet, and Luckily, he was able to do so. He heard a crack, and the sound of metal falling to the ground, but ignored it.
He grabbed the criminal by the legs and slammed him to the ground. The pistol fell heavily to the ground. He kicked it away with his foot, and was about to pin the thief to the floor with the webs of his right wrist... but nothing came out.
Peter frowned and looked down at his web shooter. He was met by an exploded piece of metal, half of which was missing.
"Shit," he muttered.
He felt his body fall into the void. He quickly caught himself on his hands and straightened up, and used his second web shooter to immobilize whoever had tried to knock him down.
"Oh, you can't make me fall like that!"
He carefully picked up the gun, which was still warm, and put it on the counter, along with the garbage bag, and stuck them carefully so no one could pick them up. He left an apology card for the mess, and figured the manager would call the police tomorrow anyway. It's not like these criminals were going to move any time soon.
What worried him a little more was his web shooter, which was broken, but he quickly resigned himself. Surely he could fix it.
He decided to go home now, and he had to admit that for swinging from building to building, having only one web shooter was a bit of a pain in the ass. He returned quietly, or spidered quietly, to his room so as not to wake May.
When May had found out he was Spiderman, it had been a mess. She'd been so worried about Peter, and had tried to convince him to stop. Peter eventually reassured her, but he also knew that she continued to worry every time he went out on patrol. So there was no way he was going to tell her he was going that late.
The next day, or rather a few hours later, only strengthened his resolve not to patrol late. His head ached, and his limbs felt heavy as stone.
"Looks like someone's in a bad mood this morning," she smiled as her nephew entered the kitchen.
Peter grumbled a barely audible reply and quickly ate his breakfast.
"That's good, a week without Spiderman keeps my wallet safe, I don't need to buy you a new backpack," she humorously pointed to Peter's bag with her hand.
"May!" Peter hissed. "I don't want anyone to hear us talking... about the internship."
"Oh, it's okay, no one is listening, don't worry."
"Still..."
He met up with Ned in front of the school. His friend was rambling about some Star Wars stuff, but Peter was way too tired to really pay attention to it. Nothing against Ned, of course, his mind just couldn't focus on anything at the moment.
Class wasn't any better. His brain didn't seem to want to cooperate.
"Ned," he whispered to his friend toward the end of class.
"What?"
"Are you coming with me to the lab afterwards?"
"Aren't you going to, uh, do your internship?"
"No, I broke one of my web shooters, so I'll have to fix it first," Peter grumbled.
As soon as the bell rang, he threw all his belongings into his bag and stormed out of the room. Ned followed close behind, and the two of them headed for the lab.
"I've got a question." Ned said to Peter.
"Yes?"
"Why don't you ask Tony Stark to fix it for you? He's the one who made the suit in the first place..."
Peter sighed. It wasn't as if he hadn't thought of it. Of course he'd thought about it.
"He's busy, Ned, I don't think I can just come in and bother him with it. Besides, I can fix it myself."
"Yeah, true. You're so cool, dude."
"And I've got you," Peter smiled.
"I'm your guy in the chair," Ned winked at him, and Peter grimaced back.
It turned out not to be so easy to fix. Seeing that they couldn't do it, Ned tried to cheer Peter up, while the adolescent went berserk on the web shooter. He turned, dismantled and reassembled the parts one way, then another, then another... Nothing seemed to work.
"This can't be right," he muttered, "I'm the one who designed these web shooters in the first place, I should be able to fix it!"
Ned retrieved the web shooter, which was almost worse than before, from Peter's hands to prevent him from taking it apart again. Peter let his hands fall back on the desk in frustration.
"Hey man, it's not that bad. If you can't do it, that's a good reason to bother Tony Stark. I'm sure he'll fix them for you!"
"But I should be able to fix it myself!" Peter snapped. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, and resumed a calmer tone, "Sorry. I just... I didn't get enough sleep yesterday, and this thing won't work ..."
"Hey, It's okay dude. You literally fought the crime yesterday, it's normal you're tired. I just don't understand why you don't want to call Tony Stark."
Peter pulled up a chair and dropped into it. He played with his hands, his back rounded.
"I don't know. I mean, the last time we spoke was when I refused to join the Avengers. And since then, radio silence, so..."
Ned opened his eyes wide, "wait... Iron man, like, the iron man, asked you to officially join the avengers? And you didn't tell me?"
Peter shrugged, "It wasn't a real proposition, it was a test. It didn't matter that much."
"It does matter!" Ned insisted, "I can't believe you didn't tell me!"
Peter laughed a little at Ned's excitement.
"But then I understand even less why you don't call him in that case."
Peter tapped the table with his fingernail. He could feel the exhaustion and irritation returning with each tap.
"Because, as I said, it was a test. And this too," he pointed to the web-thrower, "is like a test. If I can't even fix my own web shooter, I'll never even be able to claim to be an Avenger!"
Ned seemed to ponder the question for a moment, not really agreeing with Peter's reasoning. But he was a good friend, and he wanted to support Peter.
"So what are we waiting for to fix it?"
Peter flashed a thin smile, and they got back to work.
Peter was reassembling the web shooter again when he heard a voice behind him.
"What are you working on?"
Peter jerked around to face MJ. He awkwardly brought the separate bits of his web shooter behind him to hide them, and MJ simply raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"Why do you care?" Ned asked, confused.
MJ shrugged, "I don’t care. What are you working on?" she said with a very calm air, a thin enigmatic smile on her face.
Ned frowned, "you just said you didn’t care..."
"Or did I?"
"Yes, you did-"
"I was just working on a... Miniature gun."
MJ raised an eyebrow. Peter wanted to bury himself in the ground at the stupidity of his answer.
"A fake ... gun. Not a miniature, a fake!"
"For a... cosplay," Ned smiled awkwardly at MJ. He turned his gaze to Peter, who was looking at him with visible confusion.
"Okay, well, make sure none sees it. Wouldn’t want the teacher to think it's the third school shooting of the year."
Peter didn't know what to say to that, but it didn't matter, because as soon as she'd finished, she left the room.
"She's weird." Ned commented while going back to the web shooter.
Peter couldn't help but agree a little bit.
"But she's cool," he added with a little smile.
"Peter, you only think that because you're weird too…"
Night came faster than he expected. Neither May nor Peter felt like cooking tonight, they went to a restaurant. There was hardly anyone around, so it was a quiet night.
If only the television on the wall hadn't caught his eye. His smiling face had decomposed, and May noticed immediately. She turned to where her nephew was looking.
"It's out of the question," she said at Peter.
"May, it's serious, it's a hostage situation, they've got guns," Peter whispered to his aunt, "I've got to go and help them..."
May shook her head furiously, "That's the point," she continued in a low voice, "I don't want you this close to a hostage situation. They have guns, Peter!"
"And I've already fought Captain America!"
Peter knew that May was just worried about him, as she should be.
Peter's face softened.
"I promise I'll be careful, very careful," he added before May's gaze.
His aunt sighed, defeated. She pointed a threatening finger at him one last time before he left.
"If you come home with so much as a scratch, I'll never let you out again."
He dashed out of the restaurant, heading for an alley. Now that May knew, he'd taken to carrying his suit permanently in his backpack, which he carried everywhere in case Spider-Man needed to make an appearance.
It was unfortunate, he thought, he hadn't thought to pick up one of his old web shooters from high school to replace the damaged one, at least for tonight.
He stuck his bag on the wall of a building and ran in the direction of the bank. The police were surrounding the building, and Peter could see some negotiators talking to the officers in front. It seemed that no one else had gone inside yet. That was good.
He started to walk around the building, hoping to get in from the back, but of course, the police were surrounding the building.
He swung himself up to the bank wall and quickly climbed it. He heard a policeman shouting behind him.
"Hey you, what are you doing? Get down!"
Spider-Man didn't listen.
Peter, having reached the top, leaned over the edge and caught the policemen's eye.
He gave a thumbs-up to assure them all was well, but it only made the two policemen frown.
Peter found a door leading to a staircase. He descended the stairs four at a time, stopping when he reached the second floor. He heard footsteps coming from the right-hand corridor.
He clung to the ceiling and waited. A woman turned into the corridor, wearing a black jumpsuit and carrying a pistol. She hadn't noticed Peter yet.
Spiderman dropped onto her back. The woman shrieked in surprise, and tried to turn her head towards him. With a swift movement, Peter knocked her to the ground. She crumpled to the floor, but quickly pulled herself together and grabbed her gun.
When the shot rang out, Peter instinctively shielded his second web-thrower. But he also had the instinct to dodge, and kicked the pistol, which rolled away. He threw a web at it, pinning it to the ground for good.
In one swift movement, he grabbed the woman's arm and slammed it against the right wall. He knocked her out. Her body became as limp as a doll, and he gently sat her on the floor, before pinning her second arm with a web.
He wasn't sure how many people were in the building, but he'd heard that all the hostages were on the ground floor - supposedly - and that the vaults were upstairs.
He would have loved to have been able to explore the upstairs in search of the thieves, but he thought better of it. The most important thing was the hostages. They had to be his priority. Only once they were free would Peter go arrest the thieves.
On the ground floor, he used his enhanced hearing to find the hostages. He didn't stop himself from neutralizing a few thieves along the way, of course, but he hurried anyway. He reached the entrance to the room. It looked like a break room, the door transparent.
Peter flattened himself even more against the ceiling so as not to be spotted for the moment.
He analyzed each of the faces one by one, and understood with joy that all the hostages registered in the police base to which he had access thanks to his suit were present. It'll be simple, then. All he had to do was disable the two armed people guarding the hostages, then lead them to the exit.
Easy.
He dropped back to the floor and entered the room.
The two people turned as one towards Spiderman, their guns raised and ready to fire.
"Whoa, calm down guys, why are you so aggressive already?"
Peter dashed towards one of them, and felt two bullets brush past him before he heard the shot. He grabbed the first man's wrist and crushed the still-warm gun to his head. The man collapsed on the floor.
Now it was the second's turn.
But of course, the woman wasn't about to let him do that easily. With a quick gesture, she pointed at one of the hostages and glared at Spider-Man.
"One more step and she dies."
Peter gritted his teeth. He had to think. He couldn't just charge in, a life was at stake, even more so now. He could attack the woman, but she'd shoot immediately. He could try to bring the hostage close to him with his webs, but he was afraid he wouldn't be fast enough.
An idea popped into his head.
"All right, all right, I get it," he raised his hands in the air, "Is it one of your habits to threaten people's lives like this?"
As he was bullshitting in front of the woman's unimpressed gaze, he took the opportunity to send a cobweb discreetly on the ceiling.
With force, he brought his hand in front of him and collapsed a section of the ceiling. He sent it straight at the hostage-taker, who didn't see it coming and didn't react quickly enough.
She caught the debris directly in the stomach, and was thrown backwards against the wall. Peter almost winced for her. Spider-Man then pinned her to the wall and made sure to keep her gun away.
"Don't worry," he whispered to the hostages as he approached. "I'll get you out of here."
He undid their ties and led them toward the nearest exit, which also happened to be the main entrance. They didn't pass anyone who wasn't already immobilized, until they reached the exit.
That's when everything went wrong.
Almost all the hostages were out, when the glass doors shattered. Two people emerged from an adjacent corridor, weapons drawn, and firing continuously in all directions.
"Run! Everybody out!" Peter shouted.
He saw one more person who hadn't come out. He tackled them to the floor and rolled around a bit. Peter vaguely felt bits of glass go into his suit, but they didn't go deep enough to hurt him.
A man behind him swore. He must have run out of bullets. Peter took advantage of the moment to tackle him to the ground and entangle him in cobwebs. He felt the second man point his pistol at him. Peter leapt into the air, did a backflip and came crashing down on the man's shoulders.
He tried to wrestle the gun out of the man's hands, but the man held firm. Peter sensed another person approaching. The person from earlier was coming to help Spider-Man.
Well, trying to. They grabbed the end of the gun to pull it out, but it was still hot. The person screamed in pain, grabbing their hands.
"You've got to get out, get out!" Peter yelled, finally tackling the thief to the ground.
But the person didn't move, either out of envy or paralyzed by pain. Peter gritted his teeth. He didn't have time for this now.
A fist crashed into his temple and threw him to the ground. He saw the man rise from the ground and point his gun at the person. Peter hastily got to his feet and lunged to push the person out of the path of the bullet. At the same time, he sent a web to deflect the gun so that no one would get hurt.
Except... no web came out. Because it was his broken shooter.
The bullet tore through Spider-Man's suit and tore into Peter's stomach.
He let out a cry of pain as he collapsed with the civilian on the floor. His hand was pressed to his stomach. He lifted it. It was covered in blood.
He felt the thief point his pistol at him again. With a last effort, he pointed the right web shooter this time and forced the gun back towards him.
As he lunged at the man, he felt his head spin and nausea rise in his throat. His blood had wasted no time in escaping his body.
The man also charged towards him. The collision sent a shock through Peter's body, but in the end, he remained physically stronger than the man. The thief landed hard on the floor, even cracking the tiles a little.
With the right web shooter, once again, Peter finally immobilized the thief on the ground.
He helped the civilian to their feet and outside. The adrenalin gone, he could now hear the police rushing towards the entrance, now that all the hostages were free.
He could also distinctly feel the blood running down his stomach and leg, and with every movement he felt the bullet stirring his flesh.
Nausea gripped him again, he felt his head spin.
One or two policemen - he could no longer count - came towards him too. He wasn't sure if they were making sure he was alright or if they were trying to arrest him.
Either way, Peter threw one of his webs onto a nearby roof and fled the bank. Surely he should have gone back inside the bank and stopped the last robbers, but his vision was starting to blacken and he could barely stand.
He almost reached the wall. He would have continued swinging from building to building if his web shooter hadn't broken, so instead he tried to land on the wall before sending another web across the street.
He put his foot on the wall and felt his head spin. He thought it was vertigo giving him the sensation of flying, but noticed too late that he was falling.
He crashed behind a garbage can full of stinking garbage. But the smell didn't bother Peter; in fact, he hardly noticed it at all.
He was already making an effort to stay conscious. He wondered for a moment if one of his organs had been hit, given the state he was in. He tried to stand up, but immediately fell back. His mind kept wavering between the desire to continue and the desire to fall unconscious onto the concrete.
The thought crossed his mind that no one was likely to find him here. No one would find him here, no one knew where he was, and he was hidden by this damn dumpster.
Maybe he'd die here. It was possibly the most depressing thing possible. Karen kept reminding him that he was in a very bad state, which didn't help Peter's mood. He thought he should call someone, Mr. Stark, or... No, not Mr Stark. May maybe? but she'd worry. Ned would try to help, but what could Ned really do about a gunshot wound?
Peter took too long to decide.
He vaguely remembered coming to his senses for a moment, still in the alley, he heard strange noises, the sound of an engine?
He woke up again, but only remembered the shimmering water beneath him as he flew. Peter wasn't sure if this memory was real, though. Unless he'd died, and was now flying like a ghost?
The last time he regained consciousness, he was in a strange room. Light blinded him, and an unpleasant sensation coursed through his body. He was told not to move. He also vaguely heard someone say, "Why isn't he under anesthesia?"
"I don't know, sir, it seems his body resisted it..."
"Well, give him a double dose!"
Peter felt something on his face. He closed his eyes again.
He woke up again. For good this time, apparently. He felt as if his body were lead sinking into feathers.Peter stroked the rough surface of what appeared to be a sofa with his hand. He forced himself to open his eyes.
The light blinded him immediately, but he continued to observe his surroundings. It looked like... a living room? Peter looked to his right and saw a large bay window. It was daylight.
How long had Peter been asleep?
He scrambled to his feet, and immediately regretted his action when he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He lifted the corner of his T-shirt to observe a large bandage across his stomach.
He was beginning to vaguely remember last night. He knew he'd passed out behind a garbage can... and then several scraps of memory that didn't make too much sense. But he was pretty sure he'd been taken somewhere for treatment.
Peter pulled out his phone and realized it was morning. He also quickly noticed all the missed calls and text messages from his aunt. He felt guilt creep inside him.
His first thought was to call her back, but then he realized that she'd murder him, even at the other end of the cable. He sent her a quick message instead, telling her he was fine and not to worry. He'd explain when he got home.
He got to his feet and decided to explore his surroundings. He wanted to understand where he was so he could leave.
Whoever had brought him here to heal him had also taken away his suit, and Peter wanted to find it too. He didn't know what he'd say to Mr. Stark if he lost it.
Peter wandered through the rich, clean corridors until he came to a hallway he knew well. He'd been here before. When Mr. Stark had tested him, offered him the chance to join the Avengers.
He was at the Avengers compound;
Which meant... It was Mr. Stark who had brought him here.
Mr. Stark had come to save him... but how had he known?
As if on cue, Mr. Stark suddenly emerged from the empty conference room.
"Oh, I see you're finally awake. Took you long enough, uh?" Tony smiled at Peter.
"Mr Stark! Oh, hi Mr Stark, Mr Stark, hi," Peter stammered.
Mr Stark moved closer to Peter, who had frozen in the corridor. The situation was a little... awkward, if you asked Peter. The last time they'd seen each other, Peter had refused his proposal - even though it was a test - and then there had been radio silence from Mr Stark. And now he'd just saved his life.
"It's nice to see you awake. You're feeling better right?" Peter nodded, "Okay, okay, good."
Peter frowned, a question lingering in his head.
"How... How did you find me? I mean, thank you, a lot, hum... I was just wondering because..."
Mr Stark pulled out a Stark phone from a pocket inside his suit, and projected a video into the air. A TV channel, probably a recording.
Peter recognized himself on the screen. Well, he recognized Spider-Man, emerging from the bank, a bloody hole in his suit, flying from the scene. Peter grimaced.
"Okay, but it wasn't that bad," Peter commented.
He wasn't sure why he wanted to insist on it. Maybe part of him was afraid that Mr. Stark would take over the suit again, if he thought Peter wasn't doing a good job.
"Right..." Mr Stark said, unconvinced.
He had reached Peter's level. He put his phone away, the video with it.
"Now how about you tell me how come when I took a look at your suit, one of the web shooters was broken?"
Peter felt himself turn pale. Was Mr. Stark angry that he'd broken the suit? Surely not, that wouldn't be fair. It happened to everyone, right?
Faced with Peter's silence, Mr Stark added, "And why didn't you tell me?
"I could've handled it on my own." Peter argued.
There it was again, that feeling that he needed to prove he deserved to keep his suit. And maybe, just maybe, he could handle it on his own. That he could be the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man on his own.
"right, sure..." Tony walked over behind Peter, then paused and turned back to the teenager. "Remind me again who saved your life?"
If Peter wasn't so distressed right now, he would've heard the tint of humor in Mr Stark's voice. But he didn't. He felt a pang of irritation in his heart. Why did he feel he was being interrogated?
"That had nothing to do with it!"
"I have several videos from surveillance cameras that prove it did have something to do with it."
Peter groaned. Okay, maybe if his web shooter hadn't been broken, he'd have gotten rid of the gun faster. But still.
"Okay, but I still won my fight, so..." Peter crossed his arms in a vain attempt to make himself look tougher.
"And bleed out the floor. Great job, kid," Mr Stark said sarcastically.
Peter scowled. He liked this conversation less and less. Mr Stark seemed to notice. He sighed dramatically, and put his hand on Peter's shoulder in a paternal gesture that was rather strange for him.
"Listen, I'm not trying to scold you here."
Peter hesitated, "So... you are not going to take my suit away again?"
"What? no!" Mr Stark shook his hand as if the very idea was stupid, "Why would I be taking your suit away? I mean, a second time at least."
Peter couldn't find an answer to this. It made sense that Mr Stark wouldn't take his suit away for one web shooter broken. But also, when he was stressing out, he was never really into logic.
"What I was trying to say," Mr Stark resumed, "is that you should've come to me if your suit was broken."
"I could have fixed it."
Mr Stark sent him an unconvinced look.
"I could have fixed it," Peter insisted, "I just needed a little more time."
"How long has it been since it broke?"
Peter was tempted to lie, but two days wasn't so bad after all.
"You think I'm not smart enough to repair it." Peter accused.
Mr. Stark frowned as if he'd never heard anything so stupid.
"Bulshit. Who told you that? Did some of your school mates tell you that?" Peter shook his head negatively, "Good, because that is stupid. You are a brilliant kid, Peter," he patted the teenager on the shoulder, "actually you remind me of, well, me, when I was your age. But I was a bit taller..."
Peter couldn't help blushing at the compliments. Did Mr Stark really think he was brilliant?
"But then... why don't you think I could have fixed it myself...?"
"The first time I met you you were getting pieces of electronics in the garbage. It's clear you just don't have the right materials and equipment to do it."
And Peter... He couldn't help but feel relieved. So it was true. It wasn't his fault he hadn't managed to repair his web shooter. And Mr. Stark thought so too.
"Tell you what, I was on my way to check your suit. Wanna prove to me you can repair it yourself?"
Peter frowned. Had Mr. Stark really just invited him into his lab to assist him? He felt himself floating on a cloud.
He nodded vigorously.
"Then why are we hanging around here, huh? We don't have all day, hurry up, kid."