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"Can we please fucking gag him?" The man asks, pressing his fingertips into his temples. He's wearing a ski mask, so the only information Rhodey can garner on him is the acquilline shape of his nose and the irritated flash of dark eyes when they flick up. Flick up and towards the small figure handcuffed into the metal chair opposite Rhodey.
Rhodey's having a pretty piss-poor day. He was even before these masked assailants got the jump on him, before they cornered him on the street picking up his and Tony's Chinese takeout, before they'd interrupted the night the pair had planned. His leg braces have been acting up all day, stiff and squeaky, and he's been having one of those days where he's been a little pissed off about needing them anyways, which doesn't happen often anymore but still- hence the Chinese takeout and Tony. Fix his legs and his shifty attitude all in one.
At least that had been the plan before these assholes had jabbed some kind of modified cattle pod into his side, something that had shocked him into unconsciousness and fried his leg braces all at once. So waking up bound and kidnapped with his braces inactive has been just another layer to the shit day he's having.
The thing that makes it infinitely worse, the thing that makes it unbearable, is the person these people have decided to kidnap along with him.
"If you gag me," Peter Parker chirps, way too chipper for a kid manacled to a metal chair in the middle of a small, windowless room, "We won't be able to, y'know, bond. Talk about our problems. They say talking really helps. You shouldn't hold onto your anger, which I'm guessing you guys have a lot of."
Dark Eyes glowers. "You've got a smart mouth on you."
Peter nods enthusiastically. "Oh yeah, I know. Mister Stark says that all the time. He's probably not going to like this whole thing you guys got going on here. Nabbing me and Mr. Colonel Rhodes-"
Rhodey sighs from where he's stuck, tightly tied to his own chair facing the teenager. "Rhodey, kid. You can call me Rhodey."
The kid's got a point, regardless. These assholes managed to snag not only him, Tony's literal best friend, but also Peter, too. Tony's kid, if not in words then in actions.
It's not like the emotionally stunted billionaire has ever set Rhodey down to confess his love for the boy over creme brulee and pinot.
No.
But Rhodey knows.
He'd known it the very first time he'd gotten a glimpse of the boy. That time he'd visited the Tower, having a few days off, when he'd made his way down to Tony's personal lab. The one he never, ever let anyone into. Even Rhodey felt a tad bit un-fucking-welcome occasionally, on those days his friend was being a stubborn asshole and would sequester himself away from the world in his own Fortress of Solitude. Those were the days Rhodey had to go in and lay down the law, slap some self-care into his perpetually irresponsible friend.
That had been a big kicker, for Rhodey, seeing the kid there, seeing Tony be genuinely copasetic with it. Seeing Tony laugh at something the teenager said, seeing him reach out a hand and ruffle the kid's hair.
So. Yep. Definitely big. More than that, though, even bigger, momentarily big, was the project they'd been bent over.
The Iron Man suit. Tony's baby. This doe-eyed, curly-haired teenager had his arms buried elbow deep into the bowels of the suit, into the inner workings of Iron Man. And Tony had been smiling. Tony who probably would rather die than ever let someone mess around with that suit. He'd declared it proudly, verbatim, to quite a few kidnappers over the years. All that for him to turn around and open his armor to a gangly kid from Queens.
Which means Tony's going to rain hellfire down on this operation once he tracks them.
Peter smiles sheepishly in Rhodey's direction. "Sure, Mr. Colonel Rhodes. Sir."
Rhodey sighs again.
"Let's just get this over with," another of the masked men says. There's three of them altogether; Dark Eyes, who's still staring at Peter with obvious irritation, the one standing in the corner oozing nervous energy, his murky blue eyes darting across the small concrete shell as if he expects Iron Man to bust in any minute, and the final one that's setting up a tripod. For a camera.
That fact makes Rhodey's heart beat a little faster.
"I, um, didn't sign up for this," Peter offers, obviously feeling the same stirrings of worry. Rhodey can hear it beginning to creep into the kid's tone. Peter's eyes flit to Rhodey's once before making their way back to the man setting it all up. "This casting call thing. Honestly. I don't think I'd make a good model. I don't know how to smize- "
"Oh my fucking god," Dark Eyes mutters again, pinching his mask covered nose between his fingers. "I hate this kid."
"Okay. Rude," Peter retorts, sawing his wrists back and forth a little. It's a lazy action, more of a nervous tic than anything, and Rhodey can see the pale wrist going red under the ropes.
"Hey, Peter," Rhodey offers, gently, waiting for the kid's face to meet his, "It's gonna be alright, okay? Tony's gonna find us in no time."
Rhodey admittedly doesn't know a lot about this kid that Tony not-so-secretly loves, this kid that seems to spend more time at the Tower then not. He'd meant to- he'd wanted to- spend more time with Peter and learn what had made him so special that Tony, of all people, had gobbled him up.
Not like this, though.
Peter gulps, but smiles. "Oh yeah. Definitely. I'm not worried at all. Not at all."
"Good," Rhodey reiterates, returning the smile without meaning to. The chatterbox is endearing. Sue him. "Because Tony's going to be here in no time."
Dark Eyes scoffs. "The only way either of you end up seeing that egotistical dirtbag again is if he pays up.
Rhodey perks up at that. "So this is about money then?"
"This is about revenge," the man setting up the camera says, finally turning around to face his captured prisoners. It affords Rhodey his first look at the masked face; blue eyes as well, but not murky like Mr. Nervous. These eyes are sharp and cruel. Rhodey knows instantly this man is the brains of the operation. He focuses on him.
"What are you looking to get revenge for?" Rhodey hedges. It's the same shit every time, someone, somehow Tony supposedly harmed. He twists his own wrists idly against his rope, following the man as he paces across their small cell.
"Like you care," he bites back.
"You guys know that one quote?" Peter hums thoughtfully, "About having to dig two graves when you're out for revenge? I'd probably ruminate on that for a little bit-"
The slap renders Rhodey momentarily speechless, the loud thwack of it reverberating across the cement walls. Peter's head jerks to the side, his sentence immediately cut off. Dark Eyes smirks down at the kid, at Tony's kid, therefore by proxy Rhodey's kid, and suddenly he's seeing red.
"Holy shit," Rhodey snaps, shock draining some of the bite out of his tone. He watches as Peter rights his head, a glaringly obvious red welt already painting his cheek. "Do not- do not hit that child again. Don't you dare hit that kid. That's- that's my best friend's kid. I'll have to do regrettable things if you do. Bro-code and all that."
"I'm alright-" Peter starts, before Dark Eyes arches his closed fist back again and whammies the kid in the face.
Rhodey gasps. Curses. "Oh, fuck. I'm gonna have to break my moral code. I'm gonna have to kill you guys. Tony's gonna want you dead."
Peter's bloodied face swims back to him, his split lip already swelling, his eyes wide in horror.
Of course he's horrified , Rhodey thinks in disgust, they're both fucking kidnapped and these bastards are beating him-
What tumbles out of the kid's mouth is not remotely in the wheelhouse of what Rhodey expected, though. Peter spits out a bloody glob of his own saliva, a tendril of the pink-tinged drool hanging over his chin and says, "Don't kill them, Mr. Colonel Rhodes sir!"
Rhodey stares at him. Blinks. "What?"
"What the hell are you gonna do about it, gimpy?" Dark Eyes sneers, gazing pointedly across Rhodey's tied hands and his useless, fried leg braces.
And sure. That remark stings a little. Mostly just because Rhodey's having a piss-poor day anyway, and he's hating on his useless legs a little more than usual. But he sure as shit isn't expecting Peter's outrage on his behalf.
The kid gasps, loud and audible, turning incensed eyes towards the man who had only moments prior been using his face as a punching bag. It gives Rhodey a clear look at the red splotch that's quickly trending towards purple on the kid's cheek.
"You can't say stuff like that," Peter exclaims. "Holy shit, dude. That's like- totally ableist, y'know? Not cool. Totally not cool. I mean, none of this is cool. Kidnapping a kid. Wait, scratch that." Peter Parker actually blushes. Beneath the bloody lip and the forming bruise, he blushes. "I'm basically an adult. Totally an adult. Don't tell Mister Stark I said that." Peter directs the statement to Rhodey, unleashing puppy dog pleading eyes on him. "He'll tease me about it. But yeah, anyway. Kidnapping adults. Not cool. But ableism? That's really not cool. That's definitely on par with the kidnapping thing."
"Seriously," Dark Eyes growls, turning towards their leader. "Can we gag this brat?"
"No," the man argues quickly, shaking his head. "This will be better if Stark hears his screams."
The world goes momentarily blurry, and Rhodey sucks in a sharp breath. They can't be talking about torturing a child?
But Rhodey glances back at Peter's face, his already marred face, and he has his answer.
Which absolutely doesn't work with Rhodey. Kids don't get tortured on his watch. Especially the kid that's his by proxy. He's not going to let anything happen to Tony's kid.
"Hey, assholes," he smarts, earning himself an immediate glare from Dark Eyes and a mildly shocked look from Peter. "Why don't you leave the kid alone?"
"Why doesn't he shut up?" Dark Eyes counters.
The living embodiment of a radio immediately butts in again, and Rhodey mentally face palms. Tony has got to teach this kid some self-preservation skills.
Rhodey mentally face-palms again, because how can Tony teach something he doesn't have? Rhodey's gonna- he's gonna have to seriously start hanging out with this kid before Tony absolutely ruins him.
"I get asked that a lot," Peter says, offering up a restrained shrug.
"Camera is ready," Mr. Nervous tells them. Rhodey glances back at the tripod and its camera to see the steady blinking of a red light. "It's set to start recording."
"It's untraceable, right?" The Leader confirms. He paces around the tripod, staring at it evenly.
"Yep." Mr. Nervous steps back and out of the way.
Rhodey almost snorts, because this is Tony Stark. The genius. There's no amount of encryption that's going to keep him from hacking into whatever footage they send him. They're signing their death warrants by recording.
Peter actually does snort. Rhodey winces, sending the kid a desperate look that says shut up for the love of God shut up. He's trying to keep this gangly teenager alive, with absolutely no help from the aforementioned teen. None. This is truly Tony's child. Forged with the same stubborn streak and lack of self-awareness.
Dark Eyes isn't the only one to turn and glare this time. The Leader affixes Peter a calculating look that has Rhodey's stomach dropping to his feet.
"Something to say?" The man asks, voice cold.
Peter shrugs again. "Just that, like, this is really stupid. Mister Stark is a genius. He's going to crack that in no time."
The Leader continues to stare at Peter for an unbearably long time, eyes narrowed against the slits in his mask.
"He's just a kid-" Rhodey starts nervously.
Flicking a finger out in Peter's direction, The Leader announces, "Use him first."
Rhodey feels sick. That is absolutely not allowed to happen here. Not to any kids, but especially not Tony's kid. "Hey, no way-"
Worse, Peter's eyes crawl over to his, slowly, a little ashamedly. Like this is what he wanted to happen. "It's gonna be okay, Mr. Colonel Rhodes, sir."
Dark Eyes smiles a triumphant grin that has Rhodey's stomach twisting, because he's not about to see this. They're not about to torture this kid on camera for Tony to see, not Tony who clearly adores this little chattering thing, not Tony who's undoubtedly already out of his mind with worry.
"Don't you guys do that," Rhodey hisses, twisting his wrists rapidly side to side. He can feel the rope burning his skin, cutting into it, but there's no give. He can't even use his legs, because his braces are down. "You leave that kid alone. I'm serious. Don't hurt the kid-"
But Dark Eyes is already positioning himself behind Peter, staring into the blinking light of the camera with an unabashed grin on his race. He fists his fingers in the kid's hair, his fingers digging into the scalp, and then begins to talk towards the camera lens.
The man who's obviously the Leader and trying hard to play it like he's not is standing off to the side, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed on his chest. He's watching with open interest. Mr. Nervous is standing next to him, shifting from foot to foot.
"Hello, Tony Stark," Dark Eyes starts, running his fingers roughly through Peter's hair. The kid winces, but his eyes flash over to Rhodey's once again, sending reassurance his way.
Rhodey gags a little in his mouth. He wants to shout out, to demand them to come and fuck with him instead, but the Leader sends him a knowing look that has him fuming in silence.
"I know you can't respond," Dark Eyes continues, voice calm. He twirls an errant strand of brown across his finger, gazing at it thoughtfully. "But we have some very important guests with us right now. This one-" the man removes his fingers from Peter's curls, and the kid visibly relaxes, "And your best friend. He's off-screen right now, but rest assured we have him."
Rhodey thinks about screaming, but he has nothing useful to call out. He has nothing but visceral terror to offer, because Dark Eyes is moving to stand in front of Peter.
The kid's eyes follow him the entire time, narrowed slightly. He's twisting his wrists idly again, nowhere near as panicked as Rhodey is.
Rhodey is ripping against his ropes and it's doing nothing.
"These are our demands," Dark Eyes says. "We want a billion in cash-"
"You think I'm worth a billion?" Peter exclaims suddenly. "That's really generous man, thank you-"
Rhodey winces. Dark Eyes lips slam shut, a scowl overtaking his face.
"Just shut up," Rhodey hisses under his breath, too low for anyone to hear. Still, Peter's eyes jump to his, looking guilty.
"A billion dollars," Dark Eyes continues, reaching out a hand to dig his fingers into the soft cheeks on Peter's face. He pinches the flesh there. The kid grimaces, but remains silent. Thank God. "And one of those shiny suits you have."
Peter's eyes widen. "Don't give them that, Mister Stark!" He cries despite the fingers smashing his cheeks together. "I'm fine! I'll get us out of here-"
Apparently out of patience, Dark Eyes draws back a hand and levels it against Peter's face. The kid gasps, trying to twist in his seat, and then Dark Eyes is sending another and another.
Now, Rhodey is yelling. He's screaming, "Stop! Stop! He's a kid! He's just a kid!" Over and over again while that asshole with the dark eyes and aquiline nose over there rocks Peter's head side to side.
Rhodey hears a crack, and echoes it with a loud gasp. Dark Eyes pulls back, his fist held coiled at his side, his chest heaving.
"Peter?" Rhodey asks desperately. He's bucking against his own seat, trying to break the ropes or tip it over or something. Sure, his legs are real fucked up right now, because he's gonna be dragging around stumps encased in lifeless metal, but he has to try. He can't let these assholes beat up Peter.
The kid groans. His head is lolling down around his chest, lax, and Rhodey's stammering heart feels like exploding. This is bad. It's obscene. They're beating a child to extort money and weapons out of his best friend.
"Peter?" He tries again, voice soft in shock.
Finally, slowly, the kid raises his head up. It does absolutely nothing to quell the horror hammering away in Rhodey's chest. There's more blood, dripping down through his eyebrow and down his cheek, his nose is fucking crooked on his face, all wrong, and one of his eyes is just red, red from a burst blood vessel somewhere in there.
Rhodey pulls in a sharp breath, freezing where he is. He hardly feels the pain across his aching raw wrists. "Jesus christ, " he mumbles, unable to tear his gaze away from the wreck of the kid's face.
He's not even gonna try and talk Tony out of murdering these guys when he gets here. Holy fuck. They've ruined Peter's little baby face. Doe-eyes and all.
Then the kid smiles in a way that's meant to be comforting. There's blood coating his teeth. "I'm alright, Mr. Colonel Rhodes, sir," he says, voice wet.
"Rhodey," he gasps out. "Call me- call me Rhodey."
"You have an hour," Dark Eyes orders, still staring down the lens of the camera. "An hour to meet our deadline and drop the stuff off at the address we provided you. If you fail to do so, then, well. Your friend James Rhodes over here will get the same treatment."
Mr. Nervous darts up, flicking the camera off from behind. The red, blinking light disappears, and as soon as it does The Leader claps.
"Bravo," he applauds. "A wonderful performance."
Peter spits out another large mouthful of blood, moaning a little. Something clunks against the cement, and Rhodey thinks miserably that it might be a goddamn tooth.
"You guys- I'm gonna sue you for my dentist bill," Peter confirms.
Rhodey rears back hard in his seat. "Christ, kid. This is fucked. Are you okay? You're not okay, of course you're not okay-"
"No, no, I'm okay," Peter assures, voice still thick and watery with his blood. "Don't worry, this is like, not a big deal."
Rhodey blinks. He really might throw up. His whole thing here was supposed to be keeping this kid safe. This bloody, loudmouth, endearing kid. He's failing miserably. "I'm so sorry," he croaks out, and he's not ashamed to admit that he's close to tears. Really close. This is Tony's kid. The kid that he invites over to watch Star Wars marathons with and eat frankly ridiculous amounts of Thai.
Peter looks horrified. "I'm fine! Really! I'm fine! Oh jeez, man. Don't- don't be worried like that-"
Dark Eyes snorts humorously. He's helping Mr. Nervous gather up the camera and the tripod, stuffing both into a long dark gym bag and hoisting it under his shoulder. "Might as well be worried," he tells them amicably. "Cause if Stark doesn't meet this deadline then it's gimpy over there on the chopping block. And if he doesn't care about my beating his intern within an inch of his life-"
Peter scoffs. Actually scoffs. Dripping blood and spitting out teeth and he's scoffing indignantly his torturer's way.
"-Well, when it's gimpy's turn over there we might have to up the ante." The man sends a twisted smile their way, miming a gun with his fingertips and pulling the proverbial trigger against his temple.
Peter gasps.
Dark Eyes follows his compatriots out of the steel door. It's the only access point in this entire grey hellhole, and Rhodey hears a lock slide into place as soon as the door shuts. They're trapped here. Even if they managed to somehow free themselves from their bindings, they'd never got out of the goddamn room.
And even if by some miracle, some divine intervention, they did, Rhodey can't currently walk.
It's a piss-poor day.
Still, Peter's staring at him with that slightly horrified expression, a trail of blood trailing down his temple, and Rhodey feels a surge of desperate protectiveness.
"Tony's definitely still coming," he comforts, hoping his voice doesn't sound as empty as he feels. He's sure Tony is, absolutely fucking sure. His tornado of a best friend is going to tear this place to the ground, especially after watching that little home made horror film starring Peter Parker. Tony's coming, and he's coming in with righteous fury.
But Rhodey's failed. He's failed both Tony and Peter. The kid got hurt on his watch.
He swallows thickly.
"Definitely," Peter agrees, bordering on nonchalance if not for the wincing that keeps pinching his face. "And I- I won't let them, y'know, hurt you if they come back."
Rhodey laughs then. A brittle sound. "Thanks, kid. But don't stress yourself out about it-"
"No. No." Peter looks a little irritated. "I know you don't believe me, and that's okay. I probably wouldn't either. Not after that whole show. But if they come back, and they try and, like shoot you, or hurt you, I'm not gonna let them. Mister Stark, well, he might get kinda mad, and it might be a whole lot of trouble later, but if it's that or let you get shot , I obviously can't let that happen. So don't worry."
Rhodey scrutinizes the kid, hating the bruises and the blood. He focuses on the determination in the kid's eye, even the one with the heavy, bloody red. The look makes him think so viscerally of Tony he sighs. "Okay, kid. I see why Tony likes you so much."
Spirited. The kid's tough.
Peter looks away shyly. "He does?"
"You doubt that?" Rhodey questions, incredulous. Tony's not great at emotions, but he absolutely dotes on this gangly, doe-eyed kid. Rhodey's barely around these days and he still knows that.
"No." Peter bites his lip before wincing and letting it go. "Yeah. Sometimes. I guess. He's Tony Stark. And Iron Man. He's so cool. Like one of the coolest people on the whole planet. I'm just a kid from Queens."
Rhodey shakes his head. "I can count on one hand the number of times I've been in a room with you. And I know that you're not just a kid from Queens."
Peter has displayed an absurd amount of bravery today, at the very least. Rhodey doesn't know too many kids that would be so calm and collected after being kidnapped and brutally beaten. Peter Parker is something else.
"That's really high praise." Peter is glowing underneath all the blood. "Wow. Man. Coming from War Machine, that's like a top tier compliment-"
"Iron Patriot," he slips in. Government bureaucracy at its finest.
Peter arches a brow. "Mister Stark says that's a shitty name."
Rhodey almost bites out a retort about language, but he figures the kid just spit out a fucking tooth so he's probably allotted a couple swears for the day.
"You're spending too much time with Tony."
Peter smiles gorishly. All that blood. "War Machine sounds way cooler."
It does. Rhodey knows that. He's not telling that to Tony's little mini-me, though. No way. "Yeah, nope. Not taking criticisms from a kid who thinks Tony Stark is so cool."
"He is!" Peter defends.
"Your opinion is invalid." And shit, Rhodey can't believe he's holding a coherent conversation with a kid that just had his face smashed in. It's insanity. Guilt washes over him. "Are you okay?"
"Had worse," Peter offers, which is the weirdest answer Rhodey probably could have gotten.
"You have?"
Peter sputters a little. "Um. Just like. In school? You know how it is. High school." He rolls his eyes like that makes any sense, the red around the kid's iris flashing towards Rhodey at the motion.
"Okay." Rhodey draws the word out. "That makes no sense. But okay."
"Sorry," Peter apologizes. Another odd statement, since he's done nothing wrong. Maybe the kid's got a concussion.
"Okay. Real talk now." Rhodey pauses, trying to taste his words carefully before letting them out. "If they get back here before Tony does-"
Peter's face darkens. "I already told you that I'm gonna keep you safe, I promise-"
"What? No." Rhodey shakes his head because somewhere along the lines this got all twisted. He's the one supposed to be keeping the kid safe. Not the other way around. "No. This is- when they come back you gotta try and keep quiet, kid. I don't want them focusing on you like that again, you hear me?"
"Oh." Peter shrugs. "That's all?"
"That's- that's like a big thing." He's got a spiel here, a whole thing about convincing the kid to keep his lips closed so that baby face doesn't get any more wrecked than it already is. Rhodey's kinda making it up as he goes along, but he's got a whole thing here. A haphazard game plan to keep this gangly thing alive. A task proving to be admittedly harder than he had anticipated.
"I'm not worried about it," Peter tells him, jovial. "You don't gotta worry about me. Honest."
Rhodey flounders. This is Tony's kid. Rhodey's kid by proxy. Their shared kid who is bleeding and spitting out teeth. "Yeah. I'm definitely gonna keep worrying about you."
Peter sighs, wincing. "You and Mister Stark are the same, y'know."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" He asks wearily. The pain in his wrists is starting to hit now that the adrenaline has died down. He makes a conscious effort to relax his hands so the nylon doesn't rub against already raw skin.
"Good. Mostly," Peter allows.
"Okay. Good, I guess." They've got presumably an hour. An hour for Tony to trace the video, the little horror film, and fly his ass out here and break them free. Rhodey's part is keeping the kid safe. That's the only thing to do right now. And if those assholes come back before Tony gets here, well, Rhodey's gonna make sure they keep their sights set on him for their next little video.
"So what should we do?" Peter asks. "Gotta kill some time for Mister Stark to get here."
"I-" Rhodey shakes his head. Maybe Peter is just insane. Tony found a little insane puppy dog wandering around Queens and brought it home. There's no other explanation for this level of calm. "Is there something you wanna do?"
Peter brightens. "Let's play i-Spy!"
───
So, unsurprisingly, i-Spy's a bust. The game's not much fun if you're trapped in a nondescript cinder block of a room. The kid's utterly resilient, though, and he bounces from that game easily into another. They end up playing 20 Questions, which gives Rhodey insight into the kid's fascinating brain. Tony had bragged about the kid's intelligence constantly, had goaded over Peter's genius to anyone willing to listen. Rhodey hadn't quite grasped how intelligent the kid really was, though, until Peter was guessing Rhodey's words with ease.
"That's easy," Peter declares, smiling. "Is your item space?"
"Yeah," Rhodey grumbles, a little irritated. "You're pretty damn good at this."
Peter shrugs, letting the reluctant compliment hit him and roll off his shoulder. "We all have our talents."
Rhodey snorts. "Is that your bullshit polite way of telling me I suck?"
Peter doesn't say anything, but his smile stretches even wider.
Rhodey can feel an ache spreading across his neck and shoulders from sitting in this position for so long. He rolls his neck, occasionally, trying to dispel some of the tight pain radiating there, but it does little to help. His fingertips are tingling, little pinpricks dancing across his skin.
He's ready to kiss ass if Tony would hurry the hell up.
"You doing okay?" Peter asks gently, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he watches Rhodey roll his head around again.
"Yeah, I'm good." He tilts his head all the way back, his neck twisting to stare up at the ceiling. "Just a little sore."
Peter nods in approval. "Oh yeah. Definitely. Hungry, too."
Rhodey's stomach lets out a growl. He'd dropped the Chinese in the middle of his kidnapping, the lo mein and rice spreading out across the sidewalk. He thinks wistfully of it now. "God. Tell me about it. When we get out of here I vote we hassle Tony into buying us-"
Peter's face draws together, eyes narrowed, before they blow wide in panic. "Someone's coming," he announces.
"What?" Rhodey strains, trying to hear footsteps or voices or anything and comes up empty. He looks at Peter incredulously. "I don't hear anything-"
The metal door flings open with force, hitting the wall with a sharp thud that has Rhodey jumping in his seat. "Jesus christ-" Rhodey mutters, watching the three amigos step back into the room, the camera tripod bag stuffed up Dark Eyes's armpit. The man sends them both a gleaming smile when he enters, smirking at Peter's bruising.
"Set the camera back up," The Leader declares.
Rhodey's breath becomes a little harder to pull in, and he watches as Mr. Nervous tentatively plucks the tripod from the bag, locking the legs into place. He fumbles around in the bag for the accompanying camera.
"Hey guys," Peter chirps, and Rhodey's gaze flies back to the kid with a quickness, his mouth falling open and hanging slack. He distinctly remembers having a conversation about the kid staying quiet. This is not quiet. It's the opposite of quiet. It's Tony Stark reimagined, doing everything possible to make Rhodey's life difficult.
"Shut up," Dark Eyes snaps. He's watching Mr. Nervous fiddle with the camera, his arms across his chest.
"Did you miss us?" Peter continues, nonplussed, as though he wasn't speaking directly to the man responsible for the blood and bruises adorning his face. "You must have since you're back already. You missed out though. We played i-Spy, except, of course, there's not a lot to see. 20 questions, too, which you definitely missed out on because it was really fun."
"I literally want to shoot this guy in the head," Dark Eyes mutters, and Rhodey sits ramrod straight in his seat.
"Hey, wow. Definitely don't do that-"
Dark Eyes sends him a sharp look. "Don't get your fucking panties in a bunch, gimpy. I'm not really going to kill him. Yet."
Peter's frowns. "You really shouldn't call people that, Frank. We talked about this."
Rhodey blinks. Frank?
"Frank?" Dark Eyes repeats the thought aloud.
Peter nods affably. "Well, yeah. You guys never introduced yourself so I had to call you something. You're Frank." Peter nods at the man Rhodey realizes he'd dubbed Dark Eyes, a fucking stupid name, and he has to fight back a laugh. It's insane. Insane.
"You're Jeff." Peter directs his head now to the Leader, shrugging in as much as his restrained arms allow. "And your Elliot."
Mr. Nervous pauses with the camera for a minute, staring over the top of it at Peter with obvious confusion. "That's not even close to my name."
Peter mock scoffs. "Well, how would I know that?"
Rhodey laughs, and Peter looks at him with obvious humor. "Fuck, Peter. I was calling them Dark Eyes, Leader, and Mr. Nervous. Shit names. Yours are way better."
Peter laughs with him, a high, musical sound that Rhodey understands why Tony likes. Peter is chaos, a ball of energy, but somehow that transfers to calming energy for those around him. His laugh sends a wave of assurance across Rhodey's sternum.
"I like them!" Peter insists through a fit of giggles. " Mr. Nervous? That's really good-"
"That's enough," Leader/Jeff snaps, voice biting with anger. His gaze is flicking between both of them with shimmering disdain. Rhodey can read the hatred even through the man's mask, can feel it sizzling in the air. "You two are acting as though this is a joke. Do you want me to prove how much it fucking isn't? How much Tony Stark has wronged me?"
"Wait-" Rhodey tries, because fuck if this has't spiraled away from him again. This joking isn't helping Peter. Not really. Not with the hateful, vengeful look that Leader/Jeff is sending Peter's way.
And then the man reaches into the waistband of his jeans and pulls out a glinting, silver revolver.
Rhodey's breath catches and he stares at the piece in horror. They can't get shot here, can't risk either of them bleeding out on the concrete floor, tied to chairs where they can't even press their hands against gaping wounds to stop bleeding. They can't get shot. Rhodey sends Peter a panicked look.
"I'm going to shoot one of you," Leader/Jeff proclaims calmly, hefting the weight off the gun from one hand to the other, carelessly. Rhodey watches the barrel of the gun fervently, watches to make sure it doesn't land anywhere near Peter. "It seems Tony Stark has decided to forego meeting our demands. We need to make him reconsider."
Dark Eyes/Frank is grinning ear to ear at the news, cracking his knuckles from where he's leaning against the wall. "You have my opinion on who, Boss." His gaze crawls over to Peter, who is looking truly worried for the first time since waking up here.
Rhodey lets out a breathy, "No."
He cannot let them shoot Tony's kid here.
"I think watching one of your brains splatter the wall here will be good motivation," Leader/Jeff continues, still carelessly shifting the revolver around. Rhodey feels the barrel of it point at him before it moves away again. He's gotta buy them some time, some time for Tony to get here because he has to be almost here-
"But how to decide? Hmm?"
Leader/Jeff points the barrel directly at Peter, at the kid's chest, and Rhodey watches him tense where he's trapped, his eyes blowing wide.
"Don't!" Rhodey cries out, panicked. He rocks miserably in his seat. "Don't shoot the kid. He's just a stupid intern. You're going to kill Tony Stark's intern and it's not going to even matter. Tony didn't fucking care when you beat him up, obviously. Or he would have sent the money. What do you think killing him is going to do? Tony doesn't care about some intern."
Rhodey watches as Peter gulps, as those doe-eyes slide off the gun and in his direction. And shit, those better not be the last words Rhodey ever says to the kid, because Peter is looking at him with the faintest hint of hurt on his face, and Rhodey is going to lose it if he doesn't get a chance to apologize for that egregious lie because Tony loves this insane kid-
Then the gun rocks his way. Rhodey can feel the heat of it on his heart. One twist of Leader/Jeff's finger and he's done.
"Whoa, whoa," Peter argues quickly. "This is hasty. Really hasty. You gotta- you gotta beat us up some more. You can't just skip right to the murder part, that's villiany 101-"
"I'll beat you up some more," Dark Eyes/Frank growls, stalking across the small room presumably to do that. To hurt the kid some more because smashing his face and breaking his teeth was apparently not enough.
"Turn the camera on," Leader/Jeff orders, keeping the gun level with Rhodey's chest. He sees Mr. Nervous/Elliot reach a hand out to flick the camera on, he sees the red blinking light come on, and he's still staring down the barrel of a gun.
"Tony Stark," Leader/Jeff says, "You have missed your deadline. I want you to know that you brought this on yourself. James Rhodes must die, but you still have a chance to save the brat-"
Peter yells something, and Rhodey lets his eyes jump that way. Dark Eyes/Frank has his fingers in the kid's hair again, and he's pulling back a fist to hit him, again, for some fucking absurd reason. Peter's not even visible on the camera, so he's just hitting Peter for his own sick pleasure now because Tony thankfully won't even see it, he's thankfully not gonna see the kid getting hit hard enough to rock his head against the back of the chair.
He is gonna see Rhodey get shot, though. And that's gonna obliterate the man. Rhodey hopes that Peter Parker's doe-eyes and chatterbox personality will be enough to pull Tony from the ensuing void.
Leader/Jeff is smiling cruelly, his finger starting to pin back the trigger, and holy fuck, Rhodey is going to die here-
He looks back at Peter again, hoping he's silently conveying his paralyzing emotions- take care of Tony- and he expects to see panic mirroring back to him.
It's not that, though. Not panic at all.
Determination.
Then in one fluid, impossible movement, Peter rips his arms up and the ropes just-
Snap.
They just snap in a way that should be impossible, because Rhodey's tied with the same coarse material and he's fucking stuck, he's got bleeding raw skin from wrenching against them, and Peter Parker just snapped his like they were confetti paper.
"Wha-" Dark Eyes/Frank mutters, taking a step back. He's pulling back a fist, fingers curled in tight, when Peter throws his own.
The man drops like a bunch or dumb rocks.
Mr. Nervous/ Elliot screams, the sound and terrified, and then he's backing himself into the corner of the room, as far away from Peter as possible.
Leader/Jeff finally twirls around, gun still clutched firmly in his hand, his features twisting into a scowl.
"Peter, watch out!" Rhodey yells, because he sees Leader/Jeff pulling back the trigger again, this time with the bullet levied against Peter's chest, his heart, and then he hears the shot fire.
Rhodey cries out, prepared to see Peter collapse, but the kid moves. He twists and dives impossibly, and the bullet soars past him and embeds in the concrete wall behind them, kicking up debris.
Leader/Jeff gasps, shooting off more bullets that have Peter pirouetting across the room.
Rhodey thinks huh, and then Peter is standing right in front of Leader/Jeff, because he's danced himself effortlessly across a floor of soaring bullets, and Leader/Jeff is snarling. He's jamming his finger back again and again, but the chamber is empty. Peter watches the gun for a moment, raising an eyebrow, and then he raises a fist and hits the man square across the jaw. Leader/Jeff drops with the same quickness as Dark Eyes/Frank.
"Holy shit," Rhodey says. Tony's kid is a goddamn pro-wrestler or something. A pro-wrestler who can't be more then 5'4 and 150 lbs soaking wet. A goddamn mini wrestler.
"I was really hoping to turn these guys around, y'know?" Peter says, the statement directed at the man still cowering in the corner. "Like, I was hoping my people skills were up to par. Rehabilitation and all that."
Mr. Nervous/ Elliot points a quaking finger in Peter's direction. The man's pupils are huge, the black of them completely overtaking any of the murky blue. "I knew it!" He gasps. "I knew Tony Stark had some kinda trick up his sleeve! It's you! You're a goddamn freak!"
Peter puts his hands on his hips. "Well. That hurts my feelings. And I thought we were gonna be friends, Elliot. You were definitely the least maniacal out of the group."
"Holy shit," Rhodey repeats.
Peter's gaze jumps to him, and he smiles apologetically. "Sorry, Mr. Colonel Rhodes sir. Give me a second and I'll get you out of there."
Peter stalks his way across the concrete floor, towards the man in the corner. He screams again. "Don't! Don't kill me! Please!"
"I'm not going to kill you," Peter promises, and holy fuck Rhodey can tell the kid is being genuine, and then the teenager throws another punch that looks lazy, like it has no power at all. Mr. Nervous/Elliot drops like all the others.
"He's gonna have a headache," Peter says, turning back towards Rhodey. "But that kinda stuff happens when you commit crimes."
Rhodey is staring wide-eyed. "You're fucking- fucking- what, the Terminator?"
Peter grimaces a little. "Not the Terminator."
He makes his way over to where Rhodey is still tied, and casually reaches a hand down to snap the ropes twisted around his wrists. They snap like tissue paper.
"This is insane," Rhodey says.
Peter grimaces again. He flicks the last of the nylon away, and Rhodey is free. "Ah. Yeah. I can see how this might be shocking. Totally."
Rhodey pulls up his free hand, rubbing one of his raw wrists gently. "Could you do that the whole time? The escape thing?"
"Well. Yeah. I guess. I try not to, though."
Rhodey stares up at him, the kid who's looking down at him with a casual, apologetic smile on his face. "Try not to what ? Escape kidnapping? Or get kidnapped?"
"Both. But that's not exactly what I mean."
He reaches out a hand to Rhodey, and Rhodey just stares at him. He's doused in equal parts confusion and shock right now. Finally, "Uh, sorry kid. Can't walk right now. My leg braces are fucked."
Immediately contrite, Peter snaps his hand back against his chest. "Oh shit, sorry. I shouldn't have- shouldn't have assumed, right?"
"It's fine." Rhodey shakes his head. "Um. We're still trapped in here, anyways. Reinforced steel."
Peter laughs. "Oh! I can get us out. I'll have to help you walk, though, if you're comfortable with that. Whatever your boundaries are, obviously."
Rhodey blinks. "Just. Wait. God. What are you? A wrestler? A pint size one?"
Peter twiddles his fingers, looking sheepishly down at the ground. "I'm, uh. Well, I'm Spider-Man. Friendly neighborhood hero at your disposal."
Fuck . Not remotely in Rhodey's suspected wheelhouse. Not at all. Tony's kid is fucking Spider-Man? This kid with the bruised, bloody face is Spider-Man. That tooth laying in the corner of the room is Spider-Man's tooth.
"What did Tony do?" Rhodey chokes out.
As if saying the name were a spell, conjuring the man himself from the air, a section of the concrete slab wall blows up, kicking up thick grey dust. Rhodey coughs against it, waving a hand across his face, and watches the familiar red and gold come through the slowly clearing smoke.
Tony's got the gauntlet held out, defensive, and he glances around the small cell, clocking the slumped bodies before his gaze freezes on Peter. Peter, who shrugs, and waves.
The metal peels away until Tony is stumbling out, and he looks as harried as Rhodey expected him to, a deep haunted pit swimming in his eyes.
"Oh shit, Pete, your face-" Tony wheezes, and then he's crushing the kid in a tight hug.
Tony doesn't do hugs. Rhodey just stares and stares in abject shock.
"It's fine," Peter says, muffled against Tony's shoulder. His hands crawl up to wrap around Tony, and the man allows it. Even melts into it a little. "It'll all heal up in like a day."
Tony pulls back, using a gentle finger to tilt Peter's head this way and that, cataloging all the bruises and blood. His face falls. "I'm sorry, kid. This was about me. They figured they could use you guys to get to me, which obviously worked-"
"Not for long," Peter assures, his eyes crawling across their unconscious kidnappers. He sends a slightly shamed faced look back at Tony. "Sorry, though. I had to take these guys out, and now they gotta know, right? Which really, really sucks but I couldn't let them just shoot Colonel Rhodes you know?"
"Absolutely not. No shooting Honeybear." Tony pats Peter on the shoulder, and the tension just seems to melt off the man. "You should've done it sooner, kid. Don't let yourself get all beat up like that. We'll handle the rest. About gave me a heart attack."
Peter offers another sheepish smile. "Sorry."
And then Tony finally turns towards Rhodey, keeping a protective hand on the kid's shoulder. "Hey, Honeybear. Glad to see you with that brain still intact."
He's still feeling a little rattled, a little shocked, so he simply says, "You're late."
Tony's eyes flick back towards Peter. "I know."
Rhodey rubs a hand across his face, sighing. "You- You adopted Spider-Man? And you didn't even tell me? That's what I'm finding out here?"
"It's a mentorship," Tony mantains, jutting out a defiant lip. As though his fingers weren't still worriedly curled into the kid's punny t-shirt. As though there wasn't something wild still in his eyes.
Tony Stark at his most simple form; a stubborn idiot.
"Oh my god," he sputters. "You guys are the same soul. The same stubborn, stupid soul."
Tony looks at him like he's lost his mind, which to be fair is a distinct possibility. The events of the last hour or so are still spinning in his mind; watching Peter get beaten, fearing for both of their lives, inevitably being saved by Spider-Man. It's enough to drive anyone a little mad.
"Very poetic, platypus. You ready to get out of here?"
"His leg braces are all messed up," Peter whispers loudly, nodding down towards Rhodey's useless rubber noodles. What a goddamn piss-poor day this is.
"Ah, shit." Tony shakes his head, immediately bending down to survey the fried wiring in his braces. "That was pretty dickish of them, honeybear. I'll make sure they pay for that."
Tony tinkers with them for a second, knocking his knuckles against the metal before frowning. He looks up at Rhodey from where he's crouching. "I'm gonna have to work on these at the lab. Which is fine, because you were supposed to be there anyway before you so rudely stood me up."
'I was kidnapped!" Rhodey retorts.
"Not a good excuse for standing up your best friend," Tony replies calmly.
"Go to hell," Rhodey mumbles without any real bite.
"Happy's on his way," Tony informs them both, snapping back up from his crouch. He immediately clasps Peter's shoulder again as though the kid might run or something. "Think you'll be okay until he gets here? Pete's got these guys knocked halfway into Toonesville. I can practically see little cartoon birdies circling around their heads."
Peter pouts. It makes his split lip more pronounced. "They're alive!"
"Of course they are," Tony agrees easily. "Because you're Peter Parker and you have the most rigid moral system I've ever seen. They should be dead, though."
Rhodey glances around at the limp men. He wonders if they're going to end up that way, regardless. Especially if they know something about the kid they shouldn't. About Tony Stark's kid. The most powerful man in the world.
"So you good? For a second?" Tony continues, sending the question Rhodey's way. "I gotta get the Spiderling here up to MedBay to fix that nose before it heals all wrong."
Peter makes a disagreeable sound. "I do not need the MedBay!"
"And you know how?" Tony fires back. "Because of your M.D.?"
"We can't leave Mr. Colonel Rhodes alone!" Peter argues.
"Call me Rhodey," he all but hisses.
"He still calls me Mister Stark," Tony says, cocking an affectionate eyebrow in the kid's direction. His eyes shine. "Kid's a stickler for manners."
"It's polite."
"It's weird."
"Holy shit, just go-" Rhodey mutters, shaking his head. "Get that kid to the MedBay. Fix that face of his. Teach him not to piss off his kidnappers on the way, why don't you?"
Tony's eyes narrow, and Peter gulps. "I heal really fast!" He argues quickly. "Mr. Colonel Rhodes doesn't-"
"You're grounded," Tony declares, dragging Peter with him towards the Iron Man suit standing sentry by the open hole in the wall. "Punished. Officially punished."
Tony steps into his suit, still grumbling.
He hooks his metal hands under Peter, who looks supremely uncomfortable with being carried bridal style, and then kicks his repulsors into drive, taking to the skies.
"Bye, Mr. Colonel Rhodes, sir!" Peter calls out, waving until he disappears into the sky with Tony.
That's Tony's kid. His kid by proxy.
Rhodey's got a feeling the kid's going to be spending the night. That he's going to be crashing the little pity-party Rhodey had planned on throwing with Tony, that it's going to be three orders of Chinese instead of two.
And Rhodey decides that doesn't sound too piss-poor. Not at all.