Chapter Text
"The fucker got away," Tony bit out in between gasped breaths, hands on his knees, and scrapes all over his suit.
"Language," muttered Rogers, who wasn't looking much better than he was.
In fact, none of his coworkers seemed to be doing too sweet. That Mirror guy had really fucked everyone up. He went on this big spiel about bringing apart the Avengers---real original, wasn't he?---and then just disappeared, leaving behind a trail of destruction in his wake.
He noticed that Barnes was glaring at him. That was normal. What wasn't normal was how he was glaring at everyone else's presence, too. Or, rather, at someone's lack of a presence... Shit.
"Where's the kid?" He asked, narrowing his eyes and scanning for any nooks and crannies that could reasonably hide a teenaged spider-boy.
"Whad'ya mean, he's right..." Barton started, before trailing off with the realisation that Peter was not, in fact, there.
"Shit, Romanoff, I thought you said you had eyes on him."
"I did, Stark, but that was before a giant light-pole came flying at me."
"Oh, so now you have problems with multi-tasking? He's one kid in a neon blue-and-red suit, how hard could it be to keep him in your sight?" He removed his helmet in an effort to take nice, deep breaths, just like that one lady suggested. Not that he needed some stupid advice from some stupid shrink.
"I don't want to hear it from---"
Their arguing was interrupted by an alarm suddenly blaring from all of their pagers, the screens of which displayed a set of coordinates. Tony looked up at his coworkers, eyes widening. They all knew what that meant.
"FRIDAY, set a course for the location of the kid's tracker."
"Sure thing, boss," his AI chirped.
He put his helmet back on and took to the skies before Rogers could give him a lecture about creating a plan or thinking before he acted. He didn't need a plan, he needed to find Peter.
Peter was helpless. Totally and utterly helpless (and mask-less), trapped in what remained of an old bank, and stuck with a guy whose full power he hadn't the faintest idea of. Whose weaknesses he hadn't the faintest idea of.
The man, who called himself Mirror, held him by the scruff of his neck, as if he was nothing more than some irritating wild animal. Which he kind of was, considering the guy had found a way to nullify his strength.
"The Avengers will find me, y'know," He growled, though the usual bite in his voice was gone, replaced with a note of uncertainty that he hoped the man wouldn't pick up on.
He could practically feel Mirror's grin from behind him. "Oh, I know."
Peter narrowed his eyes. What kinda lunatic wanted to be caught by the Avengers while holding the guy who was basically their kid as a hostage?
He sighed. A lunatic with an evil plan, that's who.
"So, what, you gonna threaten to shoot me in front of them or something? What... what's the point of this?"
Mirror barked out a laugh. "Oh, I think you of all people know that death is far from the worst fate one can suffer." The man pulled him upwards until Peter could feel hot breath against his ear. "Don't you, Parker?"
He stilled.
The shards of a fragmented past, of his own memories, flashed through his brain. Along with them came white-hot agony, and Peter began to scream, his voice quickly becoming ragged and desperate.
Memories of the bite.
Of Ben.
His uncle, who was dead because Peter was incompetent.
His aunt, who had kicked him out of his own home because Peter was too much.
Memories of rooftops, and of the sting of metal, and of all his failures because his superpowered body had become his cage, had refused to let him go.
Refused to let him just die already.
He came back to reality with a sharp inhale.
"You see, Spider-man," Mirror started, dropping him unceremoniously to the ground, where he fell to his knees, "Once the Avengers figure out how deeply flawed you are, they won't want you. Nobody will. But you are as strong as you are weak, and as important as you are a coward. They will be torn apart from the inside without your presence, and then they will fall, as they will have allowed you to fall."
Huh.
He was totally, royally fucked, wasn't he? If this guy could read his mind and show him his worst memories, who was to say he couldn't project them to the others?
The others, who he had brought right to him with his emergency tracker. Peter had thought it was pure luck when Mirror didn't find it, but he now realised that he was nothing more than an idiot who fell for an obvious trap.
Unfortunately, his senses hadn't been dulled as his strength had been, so he heard the sound of multiple sets of footsteps nearing, and of repulsors landing in near-silence just outside the building. He was too late to do much of anything, now.
Peter kept his gaze on the ground as the Avengers ran into the ruins. Mirror was holding him up by his collar again. It was humiliating. He heard a few gasps as his teammates saw his face.
"...'Roos?"
"Hi, Tony," he muttered. He didn't look up. He thought he might vomit.
"What do you want with Spider-man?" Steve called out over the brief silence that had fallen over the room.
Mirror laughed again. It was really quite an irritating sound. "Why don't you tell them, Parker?" The Avengers paused at the mention of his surname. "Tell them of your weakness, and you can all be on your merry ways."
Letting out a shaky breath, Peter shook his head, eyes still locked onto the rubble beneath his sore knees.
The rubble which Mirror proceeded to slam his face into. Holy shit. He heard the reverberating crack of his nose as it broke.
"Peter!" Tony yelled, beginning to run towards his collapsed form, but he was quickly pulled back by swirling shadows in the form of a hundred arms. By Mirror, Peter realised.
"Tell them."
He shook his head again, with more aggression this time. The movement sent a jolt of pain through his body.
His face was slammed back into the rubble.
"I said tell them! Tell them about how the one thing you dream of the most is unattainable." Peter looked up to see a mixture of bewilderment and panic among the faces of the Avengers. Bucky and Sam were there too, standing further back than the others. "But you make up for it, don't you, Pete?" The man prodded his aching face in mock-pity, leaning down and whispering in his ear, "Tell them what you do to yourself just to stay sane."
He saw Steve tilt his head in confusion, and Bucky's eyes widen in-- horror? But no. He couldn't know. There was no way. Curse their stupid super-soldier hearing.
This wasn't happening.
"Kiss my ass," he hissed, glaring at the ground. He watched as blood dripped from his nose and the cuts that now littered his face.
Mirror hummed from behind him. "Well, if you insist on being difficult, I suppose I could always show them myself."
Peter's eyes widened in fear.
"No," he pleaded, voice cracking, and squeezed his eyes shut.
The man put a hand on his shoulder, and Peter could see churning shadows forming in his peripheral vision.
"No! Fuck you! Fuck you!"
The last thing Peter saw before his vision went black was his teammates collapsing.