Chapter Text
Tony was getting impatient.
How could their team have gotten so out of practice so quickly? It was only their third mission together since rebuilding the Avengers, but still . Robot invasions were supposed to be easy; this half-baked attempt at tri-state domination should have brought them closer together rather than highlight the many, many ways in which they were divided.
Tony went high, zipping through the fingers of a giant robot hand so he could get a view of the whole battleground.
Robots—huge, clunky, and poorly-built—lumbered up and down several city streets, their massive waving arms clipping the sides of buildings and sending chunks of brick and cement falling to the ground. Citizens poured out of damaged buildings into the streets, only to realize they were safer inside.
Clint and Steve were on the ground, ushering the panicked crowds away from the danger. The rest of the Avengers focused on defeating the threat.
A robot a block away from Tony’s position smashed its hand through the top floor of an apartment building and Tony’s heart seized as debris flew toward a couple huddled on the sidewalk, recording the action. He rushed forward, realizing with a jolt he wouldn’t make it in time, unable to tear his eyes away—
A red and blue form swung down, barreling into both civilians and knocking them out of the way. The debris exploded against the pavement.
“You guys started the party without me?” a young voice piped up over the comms. Spidey threw out a webline and rocketed back into the sky. “I’m hurt.”
“We were just warming ‘em up for you, kid,” Sam said with a laugh.
“Aw, you do care!” Spider-Man dropped down onto the roof of a car near Steve and crouched down to talk to him. Tony caught his words over the comm. “Hey, Cap, if you can get all the civilians past 18th I think I can web up a barrier to keep the robots from going deeper into the city.”
Cap nodded. “Alright, son. Guys, I want everyone not currently engaged to reroute and direct people past 18th. Sam, stay in the air to manage debris. Bucky, Nat, Clint, and I will sweep these buildings. Tony, Rhodey, Scott, keep any robots distracted and off our tail.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Tony said. He flew up, grabbing the attention of the robot closest to him and luring it away from where Spidey had already begun closing off the street. As he got above the line of buildings, he caught sight of the hulking machines a few roads over and swore.
“Hey, Spangles,” he said, “I think we need to do something about the Jumbo-Bots heading toward Stuyvesant Square. Suggestions?”
“Alright.” A pause while Steve considered. “Scott, Sam, head over to their location and either turn ‘em around or take ‘em down.”
“Got it, Cap,” Wilson responded.
“Whatever you say, Captain America!” Scott said. Tony rolled his eyes. His suit’s monitor caught a tiny figure hopping onto Falcon’s wingpack as Sam flew down the street.
Tony weaved through the legs of the robot behind him and caught a glimpse of Steve ushering civilians through a small gap in Spider-Man’s web wall.
“I think Spidey should go too,” he said. “He’s the best equipped for getting people out of the way safely.”
Another pause from Steve.
“Good idea,” he said eventually. “Spider-Man, meet them down there. But don’t try to engage the robots. Just make sure no one on the streets gets hurt.”
“Got it, Captain America, sir!” Peter’s enthusiasm crackled over the comms, voice slightly muffled by his mask, and Tony allowed himself a smile. “You can count on me!”
“Keep your distance, son,” Cap reminded him. He sounded somewhat amused. “These guys are a little bigger than Scott was.”
“Hey, if we’re comparing sizes here—” Scott cut himself off. “Hold on, how old is Spider-Kid again? Am I allowed to make that joke?”
“I’m old enough to kick your ass!” Peter yelled back and Tony couldn’t help but laugh.
“Would you just go stop the robots?” he huffed.
“It’s called multitasking, Mr. Stark!”
— — — — — — — —
He was just getting civilians out of the way. That was the only thing he was supposed to do. He was not supposed to be fighting the sixty-foot tall robots. He was strictly forbidden from fighting the sixty-foot tall robots.
But it was like a losing battle when he was fighting the symptoms and not the cause, herding people out of the splash zone rather than confronting the robots head on. Sam’s bullets weren’t doing much against their thick metal casing and Scott couldn’t find a safe entrypoint to start attacking the wiring. Chunks of concrete rained down to the pavement and Spidey couldn’t be everywhere at once.
“And I thought I was clumsy!” he said as one of the bots grazed a fire escape and tore it from the building. Peter grabbed it with a web and yanked it toward him, dropping it on the roof of an apartment building. “Have you ever thought of taking up yoga? I hear it really helps with spacial awareness!”
“I’m almost positive these things aren’t sentient, kid,” Sam said, swooping down to shoot at the thing’s viewing sockets. “You really don’t have to talk to them.”
“Aw, c’mon, Falc, even these guys could use a friend!”
“Leave it to Spidey to try and make friends with the giant robots attacking the city,” Clint chuckled over the line.
“I happen to be a very personable guy, you know! Since when is it mandatory that superheroes have to be grumps?”
“It comes with age, punk,” Bucky said, and Peter groaned. A robot kicked a car into the air and he quickly hauled it back to the ground.
“I’m not that much younger than most of you.”
“Oh yeah?,” Rhodey said. “And exactly how much younger would that be?”
“Hey! Are you trying to trick me into giving something away? That is a low move, Col. Rhodes, I expected better.” Peter tried to sound disappointed, but he was smiling.
“Me? Trick you? Never.”
“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.”
Peter flipped into the air as a robot took a swipe at him. A window smashed where he had just been clinging, but a quick glance told him no one was on the sidewalk, so no big deal.
Except someone inside the building screamed.
“Oh, crap,” Peter breathed, twisting in midair so he could land on the robot’s shoulder and propel himself back toward the apartment. He stuck to the side of the brick building and started climbing up.
“Kid, everything okay?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s good,” Peter responded, nodding even though no one else was even in the vicinity. “I’ve got it. Can you keep the Iron Giant here distracted for a sec?”
“On it.”
Peter tumbled through the broken window and nicked his thigh on a shard of broken glass. He pressed a hand against the cut as he fell into a carpeted living room.
“Ow! Stupid, freakin’—”
“Spidey, you alright?” Tony demanded. Peter’s eyes widened and his hand flitted up to the comm in his ear.
“Yeah! Sorry, I keep forgetting you guys can hear me talking to myself.” He webbed over the small injury and pushed himself to his feet.
“Spider-Man, you need to tell us if you’re injured,” Captain Rogers said.
“I’m fine, I promise.” Peter glanced around the room. It was empty, so he moved onto the kitchen to try and find whoever had screamed. “Just a graze. Surprised me more than anything.”
“If you’re sure, son.”
The kitchen was also empty, so Peter went deeper into the apartment. He called out a couple times, but there was no answer. Jaw set, he moved into the building hallway to do a quick sweep of the whole floor and found a little girl huddled next to the door frame. Her eyes went huge when she saw him.
“Spider-Man...” she breathed. Peter crouched down a few feet from her.
“The one and only.” He looked back over his shoulder into the apartment and then back at the girl. “Where are your parents, kiddo?” She shrugged, eyes cast downward.
“I was with my brother,” she explained, voice hushed. “But he had to go to the basement to do laundry and he didn’t come back.” The girl’s lower lip started to wobble. Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m really scared,” she whispered. Peter’s heart twisted.
“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay.” He reached out a hand and let her crawl forward to take it. “We’re gonna get you somewhere safe and I’m gonna find your brother, okay? What’s your name?”
“Lacey,” she said. Something struck the outside of the building and the entire structure shook. Lacey screamed and Peter scooped her up in his arms to shield her from the plaster falling from the ceiling.
“You’re okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” he murmured as she buried her face into his shoulder. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” The lights in the hallway flickered. They needed to find the brother and get out of there.
He stood, planting Lacey against his hip so he could free one arm. He strode down the hall to the stairwell and pushed open the door. They made their way down four flights of stairs before the power cut out, pitching them into a black basement. Peter bit back a groan.
“Who needs lights anyway?” he said.
“I do!” Lacey insisted, clinging to him. He rubbed a hand up and down her back in what he hoped was a soothing gesture, but this was a little out of his wheelhouse.
“Don’t worry, Lace, I’ve got lenses in my mask that help me see when it’s dark. Everything’s fine.” Right on cue, the night-vision lenses whirred to life and the basement was laid out in shades of green in front of him. As Peter moved forward, Lacey’s tiny fists gripped tighter onto his suit.
“Is anybody down here?” he called. A thump echoed from somewhere in the back. Peter called again. “Hello?”
“—elp!” a muffled voice yelled. Peter rushed toward the sound, turning a corner to find a collapsed support beam blocking a door. Someone on the other side was throwing their weight into the door in vain.
“Jordan!” Lacey squealed. She tried to wriggle out of Peter’s grip but he held her tight, unwilling to let her run off into the darkness.
“Lacey?” the voice asked.
“I’m gonna get you out of there, alright?” Peter said. He took a few steps back from the door and put Lacey down. “Don’t move, kiddo.” Lacey nodded and Peter turned back to the support beam.
“Jordon, I need you to step back from the door until I tell you it’s safe to come through,” he said. The banging against the door stopped.
“O-okay!”
Peter braced his feet against the cement floor, tucking his shoulder under the beam. He placed his hands flat against it and took a deep breath before slowly lifting. Plaster and paint rained from the ceiling as he hefted the beam inch by inch, but he managed to hoist it over his head.
“Okay, Jordan, come out carefully!”
The door creaked open, and a teenage boy—maybe a year or two older than Peter—slipped through. “I can’t see anything!” he said.
“Lacey, talk to your brother,” Peter grit. His arms were starting to shake. “Jordan, move toward her voice.”
Lacey took up the initiative and started singing some song from a children’s cartoon and Jordan eased around Peter to get to her. Peter shifted his hold on the support beam and began lowering it to the ground. The ceiling gave a final shudder as the beam touched the floor and then everything went still. Peter breathed a sigh of relief.
He looked back at the two siblings and Jordan was on his knees, smothering his sister in a hug. Peter gave them a second and then tapped him on the shoulder.
“We should get out of here.”
Jordan picked up Lacey and Peter grabbed his wrist to lead them out of the basement. They made it up the stairwell and out onto the streets. Peter winced as his eyes were assaulted with the sudden light. His mask lenses whirred and switched back to normal. When he turned around, Jordan was gaping at him.
“You’re Spider-Man,” he said.
“The one and only.” Peter looked down the block and saw that the robots had made their way farther down the street. Sam caught sight of him and waved.
“I-I couldn’t see it down there, but you— you’re—”
Peter cut him off. “One of the guys making bad fashion and/or life decisions out here? Yep.”
Clint snickered in his ear and Peter almost startled. He shook his head. “Take her, run to the end of the block, and then go right. Seriously book it , man. And watch your head, ‘cause pretty soon it might be raining men. Not literally. Figuratively. Y’know what, if I have to explain it, it’s a bad metaphor, never mind.”
Jordan nodded, his face serious, and then he smiled.
“Thank you,” he said. Peter waved a vague hand.
“Fighting crime, spinning webs, lifting buildings, all part of the job.” He flung a web out and launched back into the air. “See ya ‘round!”
Peter swung to the top of an undamaged building and took a second to assess the situation. Back near 18th, the others had managed to take down one of the robots. Smoke rose in thin plumes from the remains, making the area look more like a war zone than a city street. Though maybe it technically was a war zone. Peter didn’t want to think about that.
Sam and Scott had managed to slow the two robots that had been moving toward Stuyvesant Square, but hadn’t yet stopped them. Peter looked down at the empty streets—Jordan and Lacey had turned the corner and disappeared from view—and decided it was time for a more hands-on approach.
“Here we go again!” Peter said, throwing himself off the rooftop to swing down to where the action was. He caught up to where Sam was circling the closer of the two bots, dive-bombing it in an effort to throw it off balance. “You guys still need hand?”
“Why, you lookin’ to go home?” Sam threw back. “Nap time already?”
“Oh har-dee har-har.” Peter landed on top of the robot’s head. “Make fun of the newbie, I see how it is.”
“I’m sure you and the senior citizens can grab an early dinner before hitting the hay.”
“Respect your damn elders, Wilson,” Bucky said and Sam laughed. Falcon swung low to thread through the robot’s legs and come out the other side. Peter watched him for second, then scurried down to perch just above the bot’s neck where a small box protruded from the otherwise seamless metal. He reached out a hand toward it.
“Mr. Stark, I think there’s an access panel on the back of the robots’ heads. I think if I just— Whoa!” The robot twisted suddenly and Peter was thrown off. For a scary second he was falling, before instinct took over and he shot out a web to catch himself.
“I’m good!” he said before anyone could ask. He swung over to land on the side of a building. “I think if I can get to the panel I can short out the power, or at least give Scott a way in.”
“Alright, kid, go for it,” Tony said. “Let’s see if we can wrap this up.”
Peter jumped off the wall and swung farther down the street, putting some distance between himself and the robot so he could build up speed. He pivoted and turned back. The robot stomped toward him, undeterred by the tiny figure in spandex hurtling through the air, as if Peter was just a brightly-colored gnat.
“Look out below!” he yelled.
Peter got close and the whole world seemed to slow.
He was flying, feet-first, at the robot’s head. In his periphery, something moved. His head turned to look at it, but then it was too close, too big for him to see the whole picture. It was a metal hand, swatting him down like a bug. He opened his mouth to yell, squeezed his eyes shut against the impact.
He felt his spidey sense blare, felt something breaking, and then he felt nothing.