Chapter Text
Peter had just rejected the offer of a lifetime. Tony Stark, the big man himself, just gave the kid a chance to be an Avenger, and Peter said no. Said he'd rather keep it local.
Friendly, neighborhood Spiderman.
Peter skipped down the steps and waited by the car, feeling lighter than air about his decision. Yes, he wanted to be taken seriously. Yes, being an Avenger was endgame.
But he also liked when things were simpler, when he was just doing his own thing, helping the superheroes when needed.
Besides, he thought Mr. Stark was testing him.
Maybe if he actually believed Tony was offering him a spot, the story would play out differently.
Peter got back to his apartment and tossed the keys to the side, calling out for his aunt. He spotted the paper bag sitting on his bed and yelled out again, strutting into his room whilst still on an emotional high from interacting with Tony. He wouldn't know that May was swamped with traffic and wasn't going to get there until ten minutes later.
Far to late.
The boy got the familiar spidey-sense, the Peter-tingle, if you will, and flipped towards the closet, arms raised in sparring position.
"Hello, Peter," someone drawled, and a man stepped out from the closet. Peter's heart leaped to his throat.
"Who--?"
He held up a device, and Peter stopped to look at it before surveying the guy. I could totally take him.
Then the thing produced a high-pitched screech, and Peter went completely rigid as his veins turned navy. His muscles were spasming but he couldn't... he couldn't--
"Breathe," the man said calmly, glowing blue earpieces framing his face. The guy looked impeccable; cleanly-shaven, crisp suit, polished shoes. His head was bald, his goatee had nothing on Tony or Stephen.
But his entire face was scarred up like someone scraped shrapnel through, or thousands of bits of glass.
Peter felt his body spin down and hit the floor, but the man grabbed him like he was made of helium, standing the kid back up like a doll.
"It's called a sonic taser," the guy responded, "it emits a high-sound frequency that overwhelms the nervous system and causes temporary paralysis."
Peter widened his eyes in terror, trying to move, trying to run. He couldn't do anything but breathe, however hard he tried.
"I'm surprised you didn't recognize it," the man continued, humming slightly. "After all, your dear friend Iron-man helped me invent it."
Peter couldn't say anything. He was helpless as he felt his limps crust over, fingers loosing feeling entirely.
"I know, right? I've made some upgrades, so it will feel all the more unpleasant," he said with a slight chuckle. "I've waited nine years for this, Peter."
I don't even know who the hell you are! Peter wanted to scream. He wanted to chew the guy up and spit him out, stomp on his chest and grind him into bits of dust.
"Not this, exactly," the man added, dragging Peter through the apartment like dead wait. "No, I've waited this long for the concept, m'boy. I've waited to see the look on Tony's face when I inflict the very pain he pushed upon me."
The guy deposited a note on the counter, tsking as he did so. He reached into Peter's pocket and pulled out the kid's cellphone, setting it gently on top of the paper.
"Call it payback," the man said at last, "and you are the cannon fodder."
He stuck a small, rectangular object onto Peter's neck, and the kid felt little tendrils dig into his skin, piercing it with lazar precision. With one click of a button, a sharp pain erupted from the device, shooting straight up the teen's spine and to his brain.
Peter was knocked unconscious quicker than a bowling ball hitting the floor.
***
Aunt May arrived to the apartment to see the door hanging open, hanging limply against the frame. She dropped the groceries she was carrying and bolted inside.
"Peter?" she called out hesitantly, every motherly instinct rising through her heart. She glanced around, looking for her ward, for her nephew.
Then she saw Peter's cellphone on the counter. She knew it was his because of all the dents and scratches, as well as the Star Wars sticker Ned stuck on the bottom when Peter hadn't been looking.
It was weighing down a lined piece of paper with jacked handwriting, the sheet trying to flutter away in the slight breeze that was filling the flat. May picked it up gingerly, hoping it would be the boy's idea of a sick joke.
I have Peter, the note read, and if you want to see him again, be a dear and call Happy Hogan on Peter's phone. Read Tony the message below.
May felt like fainting. She felt like puking. The room spun around her, and she took a shaky step, picking up her nephew's phone and unlocked it, dialing Tony's assistant.
"Come on, come on goddamn it!" she shrieked as Happy sent her to voicemail the first time. "YOU BETTER FUCKING NOT YOU--"
"Peter, this is not a good time," answered a begruntled man on the other side, the sounds of a keyboard in the background. "What do you need?"
"I need to speak with Tony," May snapped, her voice breaking. "I think... I think Peter's been kidnapped."
***
Tony was having the happiest day of his life. He had just proposed to Pepper, the reporters were eating it up, and Pepper was all he could look at, all he wanted to look at.
"Tony." Happy came up next to him. He was holding his phone and looked sick, wobbling slightly as the blood seemed to be draining from his head. "Peter's aunt is on the line."
"Happy, not now, I just proposed," Tony said harshly, waving to more reporters.
"The kid's in danger."
Tony's head snapped up and to his best friend, fingers curling on instinct.
"W-What."
Happy handed him the phone and looked away, leaving the room before the reporters could snap a photo. Nobody would know this, but he cried in the hallway outside the room, covering his face in his hands. Iron-man--oblivious--stopped to think for a moment before putting the speaker to his ear.
"Hello? This is Tony."
"This is May; Peter's guardian." The lady's voice sounded thick with tears and pain, crying evident through the phone. "I re-returned to my empty apartment, and a note was waiting for me. It says to tell you this; Hello, Tony. I'm not sure you remember me, for you are a dickhead, but nine years ago, you ruined my life and destroyed my legacy. While you assumed me to be dead and a pile of cinders, I escaped. You will never be able to replace the money and fame you stole from me, so I think the kid is a fair price to pay. Peter already loves the sonic taser, and I'm sure you can picture it. Your dear friend, Obie."
May broke off with desperate sounds of crying, and Tony lowered the device slowly, his eyes glazing over.
"Tony...?" Pepper asked nervously.
Iron-man turned to her then, gripping the phone between his hands.
"No," he whispered.
Then his body hit the floor as the man collapsed.