Chapter Text
His suit has a bullet hole now. Yeah! Apparently Peter is just getting better and better at getting injured, and what really sucks is that he is way out of his normal zone. He has wandered into Hell’s kitchen. Honestly, it was a natural progression of following the crime. He followed it like a bread crumb trail to here. Luckily he had brought his backpack along, since he was tired of continuously losing them. He stumbled into an alley that was semi-light by the nearby street light. His fingers, bloodied from pressing down on the wound, wandered to the emblem on his chest and then releasing the suit. He groaned as he carefully changed into his clothes. Each breath now becoming a little bit more labored. Red started to seep through the shirt the minute he put it on. He shoved his suit into the bottom of his bag, and he started to inspect his wound. It was in and out, so at least all he had to worry about was stopping the bleeding which would be soon. Then there was all the other minor injuries like bones broken and fractured, and all the bruises.
A hard thump from behind made Peter, intent on his wounds, jump. “You’re bleeding.” The voice was dark and could only belong to who everyone called the “Devil of Hell’s Kitchen”.
Red boots and the rest of the outfit came into view. The vigilante kneeled down by Peter so he could lift him up and take him somewhere. He noticed the boy’s breath catch as he lifted him with his arm wrapped under his armpit and around his back. The boy insisted all the way to his apartment, that being the only place he could think off, that he was fine. Something about his biology seemed off, but nothingless this child no older than seventeen was bleeding out.
The boy toppled onto his couch. Once they had made it down the steps that lead from the roof access. The amazing thing is he was still awake. He had tried to argue the dude in the red suit from taking him to his apartment, but he was not taking no for answer. The couch was kind of comfortable, but nothing fancy. Peter looked around at the apartment. Holy fudgecakes! I’m in Daredevil’s apartment.
His voice remained gruff as he asked him his name, and Peter did not want to cross this guy and had to comply. “Peter. Peter Parker.” His voice shaked. He deals with criminals all the time and the Devil-themed vigilante sends him to a blubbering mess. At least he is one of the good guys, kinda of.
“You’re not going to kill me or anything, right?” He giggled a little trying to lighten the terrifying mood that set around the room. Obviously not Peter’s kind of scene. His scene comes off vibrant, and right now that vibrancy is dying in a vat of black goo. The other man just grunted and went to expect the bullet hole. Amazingly the shirt the boy wore did not have a hole, and it was already closing up.
“What the hell!” Peter found it amusing the Devil cursing about Hell, but the fear of having to explain how he happens to have a healing factor drowned that out. He pushed off the confused vigilante, so he could get up.
“Yeah, I’m good.” He swooped his backpack from the floor by the couch.
A softer version of the voice he previously heard halted him. “Wait.” He turned back around to see the cowl slipped off to reveal a man who absently looked towards Peter. He did not look at him directly, instead he looked around his general vicinity. “How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“So you’re Spider-Man.” Peter just shrugged.
“Yeah, guess I am. Got to go. See you around.” It was so nonchalant, but Peter saw his face. He turned around and walked backwards. “And no telling anyone.” From there on out a mutual agreement formed between the two of them.