Chapter Text
Peter always knew he was a naive boy. It didn't take much for his Mom to lecture him about how he shouldn't trust people he doesn't know, or how his Dad scolded him for believing that superheroes were real. But of course, superheroes were real. If not, who was Captain America? The spangled striped man in blue and red with the iconic American dream and pride.
He never stopped believing them even after Richard and Mary Parker were found dead in the unfortunate plane crash far away from Peter. He would never forget that they had gotten into an argument a few weeks before the accident, telling him he was too gullible - believed too much.
But how could he have known, when his 'friends' had seemed so desperate and hungry for food. How convenient it was that he had just taken his lunchbox out of his bag and was met with boys taller and bulkier than him begging for a taste. A taste being them taking away his sandwich and juice box, even worse, eating it all in front of him while giggling at his stupid puny face.
Though, it was alright, Peter didn't mind too much anyway. It's not like he was hungry, just the thought of being able to help was enough comfort for him.
Later that day, he would take out his stash of comic books from his cupboard and admire how beautiful the superhero was able to take down the villain so effortlessly, how the fictional characters praised and flushed the man in a mask with songs and hymns of gratefulness. Like that, he thought, that was what he wanted to be when growing up. To help and protect people, to save the city of New York from evil creatures and to be thanked for his actions and not scolded for.
His Mom and Dad would disapprove of those very thoughts, they would discourage his ridiculous dreams any second they could, telling him how it's stupid and only a rehearsed act made from behind the glorious story of heroes.
His Dad would say it was a waste of his head, his prodigious talent for literature, mathematics and science were stashed behind by his ignorance and instead covered up with a veil of delusion. Peter's refusal for reading books too advanced for his age were met with annoyance from the man claiming to love him, irritated he had spent money on books which were left unattended and replaced with silly fiction.
His Mom, however, would discreetly encourage other activities to engage his interest in other things instead of comics.
He was forced to take up piano, but he claimed it was too 'girlish', always messing up basic rhythms and theory, failing to do a simple Grade 1 duet with his disappointed Mother. Drawing and sewing were one of the skills he had actually taken up from this, he wasn't particularly good per se, but it had made him feel good.
He drew in his little sketchbook once in a while. The delicate outlines of his feathering and chicken scratching to form a silhouette of pictures like marine animals, safari creatures and arachnids. He had tried to draw his Mother, but it really looked more like a bundle of lines and scribbles instead of a human, but he was proud.
Sewing on a machine was easier however. The stitching was simpler to learn, only needing to change the pattern, move the fabric left and right and it would look somewhat like a sweater. It was a set of instructions from a book that he only has to copy from, first instruction, second step and so on.
It was tricky when he sat in front of the machine for the first time, the settings were difficult to adjust and it was hard to thread everything through the needle. His creations were always a bit off, too loose that way and too tight the other, he vowed to improve on them.
Gardening was mediocre, he was not particularly gifted in the creation of plant life or to care for them every day for the rest of the 2 weeks he had done it. Once or twice too many times he had intentionally killed off a tulip or lily, not wanting the constant nagging of his Mother to water precisely or to keep them in direct sunlight.
They were very pretty, those flowers, but Peter had to consider the greater good, some measly flowers were not enough for him to stay out in the garden everyday to care for things that didn't matter to him. Captain America wouldn't have been proud of him, he thought, when he sat down on his bed that night. Peter didn't do it again.
This of course, didn't mean that they did not love him. His parents were annoyed and disappointed sometimes from his behaviour, but they took care of him. They were often absent from home, always occupied by their work filled with science he had tried to decipher with little to no luck.
But when they were home, his Mom would brush through his hair every night before bed, whispering sweet things in his ear and taught him to braid her hair with his still chubby fingers. "Darling" and "Sweetheart" were the common ones he was told, he felt safe encompassed in his Mother's warm arms while she sang lullabies and muttered poetry with meanings and words he didn't understand, but he was content so long as he got to be loved.
His Dad would teach him how to do flips and jumps on their trampoline in the garden, always cushioning his fall if it seemed he was going to land on his face. When the adrenaline coursed through his small body and caused him to do wide flips, he would feel like a superhero saving the day like how he dreamt to be every night before bed and sometimes slipping into his dreams.
He never told his Dad though, afraid he would stop their routine when he found out he was pretending to fly through the city like the comics he bought him. His Father was too old to jump with him but he was happy so long as he got to laugh and be content with him.
Peter's aunt and uncle - May and Ben Parker - from his Dad's side of the family took him in after his parent's death. They were devastated with the news, not the news of taking in Peter even though they had never wanted kids, no, they had set up their small spare room in their apartment for him while they filled in the documents and paperwork. Officially claiming him as their legal child and effectively making them his guardians.
He had watched this happen from the small key hole of the door, his small size helping him peek through just enough to see the tears fall from his Aunt May's face and the fierce sculpture-like features of his Uncle set in stone.
Peter didn't want to believe it at first, he was transported from his room down to the car with his parents driving through the splashes of rain dripping down the windshield and the occasional thrum of thunder through the sky. He got a hasty goodbye from both his parents and a quick peck on the forehead from his Mom before they disappeared again through the front door in their car.
He had believed, once again, that they would come back, that his Mom would kiss him goodnight and his Dad would play with him outside in their garden. He knew deep down though, somewhere hidden in the labyrinth maze of his brain, lost behind delusions and fear, that his parents are pronounced dead.
He may be naive and trusting but he was not stupid, the evidence had added up once he collected everything he needed to know. The days when his parents would leave him at home by himself, sometimes with a caretaker was always for only a few hours long, 3 days were the longest before he was scooped up by his Mother and taken to bed once again. So yes Peter knew, but he had also believed.
Until the spell was broken, shatter down by the news of his parents's death, his barriers were cracked the second he saw his Aunt and Uncle telling him to sit beside them in the living room, hug him dearly and explained to him the horrible concept of passing. Peter was terrified and outrageous.
Terrified would be an understatement, his feelings were a blur during the five days he was kept in isolation from barely any interaction or knowledge. A thick long blur of heightened emotions that he couldn't remember but of being scared.
Peter's head was a fuzzy haze of fog, trying to sort his brain into sections that he could control easily, but the walls just kept on breaking and falling apart back into shambles. His memories and feelings were lost during those few days, but being terrified was not.
Anger wasn’t an emotion he felt often, but he was angry that they treated him like a baby, like a wounded animal waiting to be treated after and cared for, like a scared child that could not phantom the idea of death. But he knew death, he’s smart, he has an intellect that surpassed his classmates by a milestone. It was neither a foreign or close subject to him, but he knew death after the fifth day had passed and still no sign of Richard or Mary Parker.
-
Peter's Uncle -Ben- was everything he wanted to be. Fierce, intelligent, strong and kind. He was so different yet so similar to his Dad, with the same dark brown hair he had inherited from him, the same facial structure created to look as if it was sculpted from the renaissance. Peter couldn’t help but notice the bushy brows of his Uncle, the short thick eyelashes covering his eyes or the same way he moves and acts, just like his Dad.
Peter had a sharp eye, it’s ironic though, speaking as he has huge frames that too often drops down from his nose and falls from his face. It was a habit he had developed even when he was not wearing his glasses, pushing up his glasses back up his nose was more of a nervous uncontrollable reaction than to actually put it back in place.
But he notices the little things, how his Dad and Uncle would scrunch their noses up ever so slightly whenever a minor inconvenience occurs or how his Mother had a habit of twirling a strand of her hair around her fingers into a coil.
Uncle Ben was similar to his Dad in so many ways Peter would sometimes catch himself saying ‘Dad’ too often for it to be a silly mistake. Luckily, he would stop the word from rolling off his tongue before blurting it out in humiliation. Not that he did not think his Uncle worthy of being his father figure, just that he was… not ready yet.
It was an odd thing to adjust from living with his parents to his relatives, he would wake up in his new room everyday and wonder why his Captain America figure wasn’t directly in front of him before realising it was hidden behind a small drawer beside his bed.
In so many ways is his Uncle similar to his Dad, yet they were different as well. So different to each other that Peter would wonder how they could possibly be brothers. His Dad was strict, orderly and stuck to the rules. Him and Mother were a perfect couple from outside the family eye, they were the resemblance of a domestic, traditional family with his Dad being the one working a 9-5 job while the wife would cook warm meals for the Dad and son.
Obviously, that was not the case at all from inside the others perspective, but them being perfect from their neighbours or family friends view was all that really mattered.
However his Uncle did not seem to stick with the tradition, him and Aunt May did not want a kid no matter how many times people would ask and ponder why, his Aunt would work with patients and the elderly in the hospital openly to the public and his Uncle would fix broken pipes and drains in their little Apartment while cooking meals for him and Aunt May. No one judged or whispered behind their back, after all it was the modern times, things changed for the better and some for the worse.
He hears their neighbours whispering about him, hushing on and questioning exactly who was the boy that magically appeared in the apartment next to theirs? So fragile and hurt, so sweet and kind was the boy that hides behind his Uncle and clutches his Aunt’s hand with sweaty palms.
Peter would have nightmares sometimes, he would dream of his Mother - her horrified screams falling and falling down towards the ground, her usually beautiful face would be replaced with ugly agony and pain, her face would be contorted into fear that ages her too many years. When will it end, when will it end? Was the question his Mother would whisper out, or was it Peter the one that whispers it?
His Dad was no different, he would clutch Mother close he thinks, maybe mutter incoherent assurances into her ear, saying it would end soon. So soon she won’t even feel it, won’t feel any pain when they fall to the ground hugging each other tight. They would die a quick and peaceful death, their pain would be transferred to Peter instead, they will feel no pain but he will each and every night when he dreams of them, watching from the sidelines.
Peter Parker was no normal child.
-
Peter knows death, he had experienced it when he was just a kid, barely out of his toddler years turning into a small child. He also encounters it again, when he’s 13 years old. He hears sirens maybe, a faint wooing from the back of his head. There probably is though, considering the too neon red and blue lights blaring into his eyes. He wants to push it away, shout and scream, resist the inaudible pats coming from… the police?
Rain is the next thing he feels, it drips from his hair, down to his eyes, to his chin then falls on the concrete. He feels several more raindrops, it covers him, he feels that it hides him away from reality and moulds him into water - it comforts him, it’s an anchor he can hold onto, pull himself back to the present when he’s so near to unconsciousness. Though maybe- maybe he does want to be lured to sleep, he hasn't had nightmares for a while but he wants to see his parents. More than anything right now.
But no… not his parents, not Richard and Mary Parker, he wants Ben - he wants to see and hold and nurture his Uncle, he wants to provide and welcome and give; so where is he then? Where is his Uncle is the question he asks himself. He snakes his sweaty palms along the floor, dragging it across the rough surface until they come in contact with a cold, wet body.
Ah… yes, how silly of him, his Uncle is right in front of him, he’s lying on the concrete ground motionless and sick. But he was only sleeping, just like how Peter wants to sleep too, wants to lay down next to him and maybe they can both see his parents together… But no, they can’t rest any longer when Aunt May must be worried sick, they had promised to get back as soon as possible to make dinner all together, a tradition they had brought up to make meals on every Saturdays as a family.
“Come on, come on Ben. We have- we need to go, come on… Aunt May is waiting for us. We’re going to make lasagna for dinner, remember? You can’t rest yet, not here, not now, please Ben.”
“Kid? Is this your Dad, Uncle? A relative? Kid, please, he- Ben needs medical attention right away and we can’t-“
Someone pushed past him, like he wasn’t there at all, he might not be. Peter doesn’t feel like he’s all there yet, his body is, yes, but his mind was somewhere else. It still seemed like it's trying to catch up to everything that’s going on, it’s still stuck on him running away because of him letting his stupid emotions get past him, then Ben following him, then… then him running to stop a mugger…
Then Ben getting shot.
“He- he isn’t breathing, I can’t feel him moving. I think- maybe he got shot in a fatal area, nonetheless we have to get him to the nearest hospital, we… might still save him if we’re quick enough.”
No… no. They’re wrong, he’s wrong. Ben didn’t get shot, he’s just pranking him just like every other time he jokes around with Peter. He’s going to spring back up in a second, he knows it, just when they’re carrying him into the ambulance he’s going to jump up and say ‘Got you! Should’ve seen the look on your face, Pete!’. Yes, he refuses to believe in such nonsense, Ben couldn’t have possibly gotten shot, he’s fierce and strong and he won’t leave Peter. Peter won’t let him leave.
Once again, he had let delusion overcome and drown him in fake hope, he had let his craving for contentment consume himself into a naive child.
‘Peter, you’re too trusting. Don’t give away your lunch just because the older boys told you to. Mother and Father work really hard to pay for food, you know that. Don’t be so naive.’ Naive. His trust in Uncle Ben had led him into a state of denial that, no, he wasn’t really gone; believing and holding out to the deluded anchor that Ben’s going to come back.
Peter gazed at the back of the vehicle moving hurriedly across the once busy roads, now with cars and vans moving alongside the edges of the streets, giving way for the ambulance. Once again, he was helpless throughout everything.
Unmoving and useless.
Notes:
This is a HEAVILY inspired fic and credits will be given where they are due. Anyway, this is my first fic I’ve ever publicly uploaded so I’m not expecting huge numbers or comments and updates will be slow slash inconsistent. I plan to incorporate the whole of the MCU timeline up until phase 3 or maybe earlier depending on how this goes, to be very honest I haven’t fully planned out how everything is going to flow and nothing is set in stone yet. Also there will be HUGE time skips as my chapters will probably range from 2.5k-5k words and if I’m planning to cover the whole timeline then that’ll take ages 😭 but I’ll probably only skip through unnecessary dates where nothing really happens. I only write fics for my own personal enjoyment, however I’m very open to suggestions or constructive criticism on improvements or tips!! (Also PLEASE expect grammar mistakes like mixing up has with had or accidentally switching tenses in the middle of the story 😓)
Chapter Text
Darkness. Then the feel of dropping, dropping downwards faster and faster. He can’t quite see, the undefined lines of mismatched shapes seem to make the blurriness of his eyes foggier. Did he drop his glasses, perhaps?
“Richard!”
“Mary, I’m right here, right here - come on, hold me. It’ll be fine, we will- we’ll fix this okay?”
The voices sound oddly familiar, yet distant. Like he knows and understands the deep rumble of the second voice and the high screams of the first, but it’s been far too long, too long since he has heard the voices of them. He knew yet he can’t seem to detect. Who were they?
“No! No- no… there is no fixing this, it's too late. The engine, it’s malfunctioned or- or the pilot he’s… Richard! How will Peter-“
“Mom, Dad?”
Ah. That was himself. He hears it, hears his own small sound that’s barely noticeable but he was so sure he almost screamed it. Why couldn’t he hear it fully and it was only the incoherent muffles coming from the blurriness? There’s something wrong. Had he fully woken up? Maybe he’s still in the state between awake and drifting away.
“Peter? What are you- how are you-“, screamed the deep voice. His Father.
“Peter, save us- save us! Please! I’ve seen you, you can save me and Richard, please!”
Something in the air changed. The cold swept of wind whooshing past and through his hair sent a shiver down his rigid frozen back. What is it? Who is it? There was someone new, someone he knew as well as his parents, someone that didn’t belong here just as Mary and Richard didn't. After all, even if they’re both standing in front of him, they’re already gone.
“There’s no point in trying, Mary. Why would he save the both of you when he can’t even save me? When the man who pulled the trigger and took my last breath was right in front of him?”
The blurriness from before evaporates on the spot from the second the man had finished speaking, like a path and been cleared once he’s reached a certain point. What point was this? This voice, compared to the two others, was clearer- more comprehensible. Peter knows who this is, they were close but not anymore, like he had been taken away from his deathly grip and pulled out of his reach. But now he’s here, Ben.
“Uncle Ben?”, his own childlike voice echoes through the plane. He can’t see his parents anymore; Peter thinks this is the point where they die. It’s like a continuous loop of the same dream, only now after a year has it appeared back again to haunt him. Though it’s still the same nightmare, he can recognise the moment when his Mother and Father falls and a moment after he follows, only now he’s still here. In the plane, with Ben.
“Ben?” He repeats. His voice seems weak, it reminds him of his own from years before. When he let the older kids steal his lunch or when he was still an outcast.
“Peter, don’t you remember? Don’t you remember how you didn’t save me, how you should’ve saved me? I could be here with you, you were right there, Peter. You could have easily stopped him as simple as breathing air. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you stop the man who saw to my death? Or was it you that had killed me, Peter?”
The moment the words left his thin mouth, Ben’s chest bursts open with a wretched scream. The skin rips open like an embroidery being unthreaded to the very last nerve, the seams holding the flesh together un-sewed itself until it reveals a bleeding red heart. Peter is transfixed.
His eyes are locked to organs leaking out of Ben’s body, the skin that acted as a wall to hold intestines, lungs and arteries opens like a door, spilling the oozing blood and bodily functions out. He looked like he was melting, the ugly red blood leaking out on the plane floor one by one with only the pumping red heart intact - held by one thread of vein.
It was almost beautiful in a way, like an artwork hung up in a museum that gets ignored by bored visitors passing by masterpieces. It looks like a painting drawn by delicate strokes with every detail incorporated in, too realistic for it to just be from a vivid imagination, the muse must be just as horrific.
The view in front of him is surreal, the skin wrinkles and droops down like it has been aged for centuries and sags down to the floor, with red running down it like a waterfall. It’s burned and engraved in his mind, looking away feels like poison emerged into his own system, it’s intoxicating.
A gunshot was fired from somewhere behind him. No… not from behind, it’s from him. He’s holding a gun with his hand, pointing at his Uncle with false innocence. Except he sees the burnt smoke rising up from the hole, a bullet firing towards Ben. He sees a faint gap in the frozen heart, it has stopped pumping now and the one thread holding onto it snaps.
Everything drops. With an agonising screech his Uncle falls down just as the rest of the plane vanquishes, Peter tries to shout but his mouth is unmoving. He loses Ben through the mist of clouds and fog, and feels himself free falling down and down and down…
-
Peter sits down on something sticky, he feels it seep into his ragged ripped jeans; something that he had just finished washing. He wants to scream, wants to hit something - anything. But he knows better than to risk breaking another tap, door handle, computer or even a wall.
Peter Parker changed a month before his Uncle died. Not in a way that he had just started his puberty, he changed in a different way, something completely unrelated to hormones and his body reaching adolescence. He doesn’t know what or how or why, but what he does know is that he’s hungry and he’s craving… flies?
Opening his bloodshot eyes seemed near impossible in the sunlight peeking through the high windows of the abandoned warehouse, he doesn’t know whether that was because of crying or the new changes in his body. He’s too busy trying to fight the urges of hunting, to stop himself from jumping and killing the innocent fly buzzing around him. He feels like an animal, the feeling of a predator feels too welcoming, like it’s beckoning him to crawl up in a corner and leap.
The twitches once in a while were starting to physically hurt. He knows he’s harming himself, he digs his grubby fingernails into his biceps to try and stop from just squeezing the fly and crushing it into his savouring mouth. It’s disgusting, he knows it, what kind of normal person would want to eat an insect? Or is he really normal anymore?
He doesn’t feel like it, he wants to crawl out of his skin. Peter doesn’t want to associate his body with himself, disgust was all he thought of when he looked at his rumpled hair, tear-stained face in a mirror. He felt like an outsider the longer he stayed in the confinement of his body, it doesn’t feel familiar or just him anymore, his actions were him needing to take responsibility.
‘With great power comes great responsibility’.
He didn’t take up the responsibility his Uncle had told him of, his last words. It was his body that restricted him from saving Ben, his mind wanted to so desperately, so achingly that it pounds forwards in his head like a force wanting to be driven out. It was his body that had frozen up, had confined him from doing what his mind begged him to do, he knew he could’ve done so easily and had wanted to reach out.
But the changes that had driven him insane evaporated the moment the gun was aimed, only releasing Peter from the restraints the second the gun was shot. He didn’t understand before but he knows now, he knows just how much it was his fault that Ben died, he could’ve stopped it but he didn’t. Peter is the reason his Uncle is dead.
Standing up was no difficulty, his low iron before had vanished, replaced with an oddly strong grip everywhere- his feet, legs, chest, arms, hands… That however, didn’t stop the internal dizziness swaying in his head like strong waves at the coast.
Overstimulation was a symptom he had been experiencing ever since his body changed, voices increased ten times the normal amount- he could hear conversations through the walls of his room to his neighbours house with ease, the constant banging of noise echoes in his ear even in the deepest depth of midnight where the faint howls of dogs and the late night shrieks from rebellious teenagers threaten to hang on to his last nerve.
Sleep is a rare gift which he only receives a few times a week, a present he cherishes in the couple of hours he gets from dreaming. Even in the supposed safe comfort of his asleep mind, he can’t escape from the gunshot firing over and over again. Deja vu is a weird thing, he feels it every time he wakes up and is left with a sweaty pile of sweat, the nightmares playing in his head like a broadcast.
It’s too similar to before, when his parents had just been announced dead.
The sun had abandoned him too, the engines of cars and the screeches hitting the road outside had vanished alongside the one source of light he had. Peter could’ve sworn the sun was blinding his eyes just a moment ago, and now he oddly missed the ache of the beams hitting onto his swollen face.
Inhaling the fresh breath of air outside was something he didn’t know he needed. The cold air ruffling his thin clothes gave him relief, it was only now that he was feeling the sweat stick to his dirty skin. Peter can smell tobacco somewhere, and the deep exhaling of a sickly man. It soon infested the clean air with ugly pollution, ruining what little comfort he had.
Peter can’t even see the man, he knew it had to be far away, the smell of cigarettes was strong but distant. It was almost teasing him, reminding every bone in Peter’s body that he was cursed with this new development he inherited. It’s mocking him, only he could smell it, the strangers walking by had no indication that they were even slightly affected by the strong fume surrounding the air.
He was once again taken over by the uncontrollable urge to hit something, but the pain he had felt last when he broke a brick wall overpowered the desperation to just destroy something, anything. Digging his chipped fingernails into his palms, he resolutely walked on towards his apartment, it was only a couple of blocks away he thinks.
Peter knows that Aunt May would be worried sick, she’s been fussing and worrying over him since the night Ben died. Overprotective and scared that something would happen to him, every night he’s been disappearing longer and longer to the warehouse, somewhere so close to his apartment yet unknown to almost everyone in the public. He made sure of that.
One part of him feels worthless, he was the reason her husband had died too early on in his life, even if he was nearing old age. No one as selfless as Uncle Ben deserves to be shot at by a petty thief. Peter brings death along with him anywhere he goes, his parents had met an unfortunate end and now his Uncle had to suffer along with them. It was only a matter of time before someone else’s life got taken away by his own hands. Whether or not it was someone he treasures or just himself, he’s not sure yet.
A scream erupted from ahead, Peter knew it was nearby, the sound too loud to be made from far away- intensified from his enhanced senses. The shout pierced his ears and vibrated to the very bottom of his body, it was a feeling that was unfamiliar, it warned his body to move as far away as possible yet ringing in his head to act.
“Help me- help me, please! Someone help!”. The unfamiliar tingly feeling coursed through his veins once again. It controlled his body to move forwards, an outside force moving him to the alleyway ahead. Peter didn’t want to - the warning to move away was enough for him to cowardly take the longer route to his apartment if it meant avoiding whatever it was.
However, he had strode on inside the alleyway uncontrollably, it was almost an instinct like wanting to capture the fly, it felt right. Peter could only make out so very little of what was going on even without the need of his glasses anymore, but enough to decipher the scene all too similar to something he wishes to never meet again, never to face in reality and only to be seen in his nightmares.
An elderly woman, so fragile and worn out, stood frozen clutching her brown purse, she was trapped between an ugly grey wall stained with random graffiti and overgrown moss and in front of her, a masked man with a gun. Peter swayed on the spot. He knew this situation, he had experienced this - too many times to count, and always the outcome was the same. The gun is fired and one comes out dead.
As always, Peter couldn’t intervene. Uncle Ben would end up dead in a pool of his own dawning blood on the cold concrete floor. Every time the nightmare repeats in his head, it never gets distorted or changed, the end is always the same. And Peter doesn’t help, never helps.
What’s to say this wouldn’t be the same? He could run off to his aunt and leave the woman to lay dead, why should he take responsibility yet again for this? But Peter knows, he knows that it will still be his fault, for him to be blamed.
He has the power to change things, to make things better. Would it be on him if he doesn’t save the woman?
Yes, yes it would. Just like how he could’ve saved Ben, Peter knew his newfound power would have overcome the thief easily. He had minutes to change the situation but he had just stood and stared. It was the thief that opened the doors but it was Peter who chose to not close it. But this time, this time he can change if the woman lives or dies. He made a mistake before but now he has the decision to make a difference.
The woman had spotted him by now, tears were flowing down on her old wrinkly complexion, she hiccuped and begged for him to help, “Please, please help me! He’ll kill me, I know it…I know he will-“.
“Son, go home and do ‘er homework. Ya’ look ‘bout ten ‘ears old, whatcha doin’ out ‘ere so late anyway? Don’t get into business ‘er not involved in, or I’ll kill the two of ya’ and rob some extra cash just because I can.”
His face morphed into something wretched, hatred had taken over him and turned him into an ugly man, tinged with the heavy accent and the smell of alcohol made the man almost indistinguishable.
The woman’s fear activated something in him, like a defence mechanism switched on upon the sounds of terror, but now it was not to defend himself but to defend someone helpless. Peter thought about what he could do in this situation, the amount of possibilities are endless but there’s only two endings he knows for sure are inevitable. He either makes the situation worse or for the better, and what he’s hoping for is to somehow avoid getting shot at while saving the woman with little to no experience.
A shot of electricity ran through every vein in his body and up his skeleton, it’s a force that felt alive and too strong to be a shiver from the cold. It’s the feeling from before that screamed at him to run, but now it increased tenfold and ringed in his head like a bell designed to warn him.
BANG!
Peter moved unexpectedly, for him and the robber. He saw how the man widened his eyes at him, a trace of fear flashed in his pupils. He was meant to be dead, getting rid of the kid was supposed to be easy, a trigger to pull and the life of the one witness of his crimes is gone. But somehow against all odds, he had moved just in time for the bullet to only slightly graze his shirt, alive and whole.
“One last chance before you get shot to oblivion, I mean it!-“
Peter let the thrill of fear control him, using only the new raw strength empowering him did he punch the man in the face. Truthfully, he had only expected it to distract him but nevertheless enough time for the woman to flee.
However, he had forgotten the crucial part of his new… powers.
Only a few days ago he had destroyed a wall with his strength. How could he have ignored that when humans are infinitely more vulnerable and, well, squishier. The rough flesh met his hand, the man barely let out a hoarse grunt before falling to the ground, unconscious but breathing. It was only a matter of luck that he had survived the blow, Peter’s hit was sure to have made a lasting impact.
Unsaid words filled the air quicker and quicker, the only noice to be heard were the unknown muffles arising from multiple streets ahead. Peter peeked at the woman from behind his too long hair, ripping his blood-shot eyes from the bundle of body towards the frozen woman. She clutched her purse tightly against her chest, not looking at Peter but at the man who had threatened her life.
“Is he- is he dead?”
After a prolonged silence surely made to increase the intense awkwardness between him and the woman, finally the words were muttered which both of them knew had to be spoken.
“No, he’s breathing.”
A breath of wind lifted the tension from the air, it seemed that now the most important question had been answered: some tightness knotted inside them broke. Neither brought up the topic on how a seemingly teenage boy had punched a man unconscious or how he knew if he was alive or not. Some things were better if they were left alone.
“Thank you- for helping, I mean. I was so sure that was going to be how I would go, but had my prayers worked or if it was just some great luck, I cannot express how grateful I am to you.”
Surprised by the genuine wave of gratitude, Peter felt his cheeks light up in a burn of embarrassment. His very well thought out plan consisted of him distracting the man enough for the woman to run off and never to interact together, save for the brief eye contact they had initiated for Peter to step up.
The woman smiled kindly at him before directing her gaze towards the man underneath them, her whole demeanour changed in a few seconds. Her sweet appearance is only a disguise from the fury engulfing her. Peter was taken aback by the change, she had seemed so scared and weary before, but he was mistaken to put pity on her it seems.
“Leave him here, the police will find him eventually. They can decide what to do from then.
Don’t spend your time on someone so pathetic that they waste their life trying to hurt others. They act tough but inside they’re scared, he targets old people like myself to easily take advantage of instead of people who will fight back. I regret for him.”
She looked up at him once more before turning slowly to the road he came back from the warehouse. She stopped contemplatively and moved herself so that she faced him but did not move her body. He can see the lines etched on her face more clearly now with the street light dangling above her, the bulb flickering once in a while.
“You’re a good man. You have a bright future ahead planned for you, keep going the path you think is right and follow it with your heart. And don’t ever let men like that one bring you down, use it as a motivation, not a distraction.”
She was about to turn before something in Peter bursted out. He had to get it out of him. He had to let her, the woman, know it. His name.
“Peter. My name is Peter.”
She smiled, “Nice to meet you, Peter.”
Then she strolled ahead, towards the night and before Peter had known it, was gone. He wanted to ask what her’s was, her name. But if she had not wanted Peter to discover it, which he’s sure she doesn’t, he lets her go.
Notes:
Hopefully things will speed up from now, I just needed to give the backstory and get some things out the way etc etc. But anyway, THANK YOU GUYS FOR 200+ HITS!! I’m so so so happy and grateful for all of you that took the time to read my fic and commented aswell!! As always, I would love if anyone can give some feedback on my work or have any tips for improvement.
Chapter Text
The bell rings just as Peter walks into Midtown, almost all students had shuffled along towards their classes and the few left paid no attention to him. Peter had expected and even hoped for this, better to be invisible than to be seen at his state. The couple friends Peter had ensured were top students, it was more than likely they would rather be on time than to greet Peter.
It was not that they did not care for him, no, they had all blown up his cracked beaten up phone with messages and notifications - each stewing up questions on his whereabouts and when he’s ready to come back. Thankfully, they didn’t push or force him to include them in his current… situation. However wonderful people they were, Peter had neglected those pings from his phone and had ‘forgotten’ to text them back.
Speaking of grades, it’s been almost two months since Peter’s last been in school. May had thankfully called in to update teachers on their new problems, this whole month Peter had been a combination of bed-rotting and a routine of focusing on his enhanced skills and powers.
When he had pulled himself together, it was quite obvious what the source of his new-found powers were from. The spider from Oscorp. From the trip he innocently signed up for, expecting to find new discoveries unveiled the moment he steps into the building. It explains everything, the spidery instincts, the habits, the powers that share the same traits of a spider.
Peter likes to think he had figured out all the obscure new senses he developed. His stickiness was surprisingly easiest to tackle, not much has been breaking off their hinges now that his strength and sticking had stopped hay-wiring like a broken cable that needed fixing.
And right now, Peter does rather feel like a broken programme, he feels oddly detached from the e world like the spider bite had separated him from the norms and made him an outcast from everyone. Which it did, he was no longer ‘normal’. He has powers - he can do stuff no one else has sought to achieve or to even comprehend.
(Really though, spiders for a superpower, Parker Luck strikes again!)
Superpowers. Peter wouldn’t exactly describe what he has as superpowers, more of an… enhanced superstition mechanism altering and reconstructing his biological genetic information into something Oscorp scientists have been researching on for centuries. (So basically superpowers.) Peter would’ve never thought cross-species genetics were possible considering the amount of work being put into the idea and with little to no solid evidence for its existence.
The increased speed of his healing would also have to mean the increased production of white blood cells even with the lack of infections or diseases in his body. Somehow the spider had either extended the life span of his blood cells, storing it for injuries and healing them almost instantly or basically gave him magic.
Peter knows his enhanced immune system means international revolutionary change in the world of medicine, and he also knows that many people would pay millions to experiment and keep him in a lab just for a taste of discovering the possibilities the spider gifted (cursed?) him with. Which is why-
“Ah, Mr Parker. I see you finally decided to join us after your lengthy break from wherever you might’ve been off to. Although, the first day back you surely would’ve at least decided to try to come in on time?”
Peter felt a rush of tingling up his spine, like a spider crawling speedily around his back, it was neither cold nor surprising (considering this has been a normal occasion for the past few weeks), yet he still struggled to suppress the shiver that was bound to happen.
All eyes turned on him in a perfect sync, like they had all practiced making Peter feel awkward and embarrassed at the worst possible time period in his life. He spotted MJ and Ned, their widening eyes and stuttered breathing upon seeing him. He should’ve probably called or at least texted them at the most when all they’ve been was understanding and genuine. Too late for that now…
“Mr Parker? Please, enlighten me, what could’ve possibly been more important than answering your teacher? My best student has been gone for nearly 2 months and all he does when he comes back is stand there gawking like an idiot.”
He sees Flash somewhere to his right mouthing something along the lines of ‘best student? As if!’.
“Uh- sorry. I-I mean sorry, sir.”
Mr Harrington raised an amused eyebrow, “Better. Now go back to your seat before you interrupt my lesson again, if you still remember where your table is!”
Peter gave a dry unamused laugh at his teacher’s attempt of making a somewhat funny joke, it was nowhere near funny, however he would rather save himself from another lecture about ‘respecting your elders’ and ‘reacting when appropriate’. Peter gave his best attempt at blocking off the stares he received as he shuffled along the isles to his seat at the very back row. What amazing luck he has.
Plopping down on his cold uncomfortable chair, Peter made quick work of reaching inside his laughable state of a backpack. Digging through the piles of unmade reading books and note booklets to hopefully find his pencil case which he was so sure he had stuffed at the last minute this morning…
Peter felt something dull hitting his bicep, he unconsciously tensed upon unexpected contact; even knowing Midtown’s students and staff are relevantly harmless, Peter had depended on his senses to alert him of his surroundings more often than not.
He looked to see Ned handing him a stubby worn pencil that looked as if it’s been through many better days, Peter sheepishly grabbed the pencil, making sure to control his strength so as to not accidentally snap it, and awkwardly mouthed the words ‘thank you’ at his best friend.
All Ned did was smile and nodded it off, he still looked shocked from seeing Peter appear on a random morning day as if nothing had happened. As if he didn’t spend two months ignoring his friend’s concerns and worries, blocking off any contact and suppressing his feelings like he was scared he might shatter upon hearing the voices of genuine affection.
Sighing, Peter opened his history book to the page everyone seemed to be on, glancing up at the whiteboard to see blocks of paragraphs scribbled messily by Mr Harrington while simultaneously reading out information about the American Revolution.
Gosh, this is going to be a long day.
-
“I am going to kill you very slowly and painfully, Peter Parker. And you will feel it in every single nerve you have in your body to make up for the amount of nerves you must have for ignoring us for two whole months! Do you hear me? Yes? Good, now c’mere.”
Peter was then met by a force stronger than he had imagined crushing him into a warm body of sweet lavender and soft cotton. He melted into MJ without hesitation, a hug from her was about as rare as finding a pin in a pile of hay. Peter hadn’t known how much he needed a touch of affection before being encompassed by the people he loved most, the stress he endured from the past weeks shadowed the (platonic or romantic?) love he yearned and his body ached for.
A minute passed, or ten, or however long they had embraced each other with open arms. He loved it. Loved the rush of warmth that came with the tight crush of a hug. A mutual understanding passed between them, leaving each other’s embrace.
A silence passed by them in a moment of friends and lovers when a glimpse of the other’s eye seemed to pass through so many words left unspoken. The moment broke like a string holding them together snapping into two as Harry hooked an arm around Peter’s shoulder, dragging him back to the present.
“Don’t think MJ’s the only one who’s pissed at you, we all are. And now that we’ve got you back, we are never letting you go. Deal? Cool.”
Peter was glad they didn’t bring up Uncle Ben. Weeks may have passed but the continuous loop of mourn and loss attacked Peter everyday, the thought of Ben didn’t feel like a stab to the heart anymore but instead it was slowly stitching itself up with the broken pieces. Almost like bandaging up a cut you had from falling over, but even with the bandage healing up the open wound, you still feel the throbbing ache from underneath the thin plastic.
The overwhelming affection after the days of being alone and the constant absence of human life was a feeling he needed horribly. Once or twice he had considered revealing the sole reason why he was acting rickety and jumpy the whole day, his spider senses most likely were unfamiliar with the sudden change of scenery and the increasing addition of people in close proximity.
It warned him about every little thing happening near him, a pencil about to be dropped, someone bumping into him in the tight-knit hallways, the slightest touch without knowledge were enough to trigger his senses into a frenzy. However, like what happened with Ned in Mr Harrington’s class, his friends were the only exception from activating the alert. Like it knew they weren’t a threat, it knew he was safe.
Harry, Ned and MJ passed each other a look, a glimpse of worry, confusion, thankfulness and pity. He didn’t need pity, throughout his ‘unfortunate’ life he had been handed words of fake understanding, to try make him feel seen. But those words weaved to deceive were all just disguised to take pity on him, like an ugly charity case. Peter was something to feel bad for.
He wasn’t sure how they knew Uncle Ben is dead, they’ve never been told by May as far as he knew. And even if they had been informed by May, it was unlike her to cross boundaries without asking Peter if he wanted his friends to know. He would’ve agreed anyway even if she had asked, they had to know eventually, no secrets go unsaid when it comes to them. None.
The bell rang signalling the end of lunch. It left a sour unpleasant feeling deep in his throat to see his friends hurriedly murmuring a hasty goodbye to each other, all ending with another look towards him before shuffling to different directions to their respective classes. It stings to know that after the burst of affection, it hid a layer of uncertainty for him, like he was an unstable animal needing taming.
And Peter doesn’t know if he was or wasn’t, his powers added another extension of him even though he didn't know what it was capable of. He could hurt people. He could also save them. None of that would matter if Peter hides it away from the world, if he ignores the uncontrollable urges that pushes him for action.
Sooner or later Peter had to decide what he would do with this mass of power contained inside him, it was up to him whether he shuts it away or expresses these new found abilities.
So yes, Peter was scared. Scared of what the future held for him, scared that after all the pain and grief and anger he had endured during when the spider-bite ensured its place inside of his body was all for nothing.
Peter was scared and he had no one but himself to figure it out.
-
Peter glanced at himself in the half-body mirror, stupid. He looked stupid, like a kid dressing up for trick-or-treating. His red and blue jumpsuit was once a pyjamas onesie set from his birthday, 4 years ago. Of course it hadn’t fitted him very nicely after putting it on for the first time in years, oversized the first time he received it, now contracting every limb.
He had almost bursted it when, at last, he’d finally popped his head through the small hole at the top of the cloth. Yelling for May to unzip him under dire circumstances, her laughs are still heard even when she’s back in the kitchen preparing dinner. He mumbled complaints when she insisted on taking a picture for her friends at work, chuckling at her ‘little boy is growing up so fast!’.
Peter’s very restricted sewing skills he picked up from his mother were for once at use years later, picking up spare pieces of fabric from May’s old yoga pants to cut and chop up bits to attach to his too small onesie. Choosing specific times when May was called in to work an overnight shift, eliminating all possibilities that she’d burst in without knocking to find him sewing.
The bits and pieces of her yoga pants were mismatched and a tone too light compared to his suit, it made it look untidy and awkward. Peter has the option to back out now, to wipe this idea from his head completely, to never approach it again and hide the thought somewhere deep inside his mind. But he doesn’t.
And, you might be asking why Peter’s fixing up his old onesie from when he was a mere 10 year old boy. Well, with great power comes great responsibilities, right? His powers, they had the opportunity to do something, to save lives, to help innocent people who don't have the ability to protect themselves.
But Peter does, he has saved a life and killed one too. Just like what he knows will happen the moment he steps foot out his window, there was no turning back when he put on the suit he crafted for himself, to hide and conceal him from everyone, to protect everyone. There would be lives he couldn’t save, lives that were too late for him to bring back. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to face that reality, but there can be no waiting now, Peter was putting more people at stake the longer he procrastinated.
Scrambling for the small black gadgets he designed weeks ago, abandoned on his desk when the idea of looking at it became too unbearable. A device he created as a form of transportation, something to flexibly move around with, something that’s an extension of himself. Like another limb.
A more efficient way of scanning the length of Queens than merely running. Humans have been fascinated by the thought of soaring through the sky when they became envious of birds and their elegant wings, effortlessly moving across the plains. Even with the intelligence we possess and our revolution with technology and machinery, we lack the ability to fly. To swing.
Peter thought it was rather brilliant, and it matches his spider-theme as well. Webs. Peter is going to travel by webs. It sounded silly, he knows. He had thought the same when the first draft of the concept entered his mind, laughing out loud when imagining the idea of him flying through the sky by webs.
Like a grappling hook that could only exist in video games and the world of fiction. The sheer force of a human, even with the light weight of Peter, would overpower the hook (or web) and plummet him down to his death. Of course, gravity always wins in the end.
However, with the months of testing and experimenting around in the warehouse, through many explosions and failed attempts of swinging gathered by his minimal amount of bravery, he had managed to craft a prototype. It needs desperate fixing, it was nowhere near perfect considering his lack of proper science equipment and the limited resources he had borrowed from the school. But it works.
And he had tested this out before, it holds his body weight like it was nothing (excluding the fact he weighs less than most boys his age), it stretches to withhold a mass that should be impossible. That should be fictional.
The strings will be expelled out of his gadget through a minuscule hole, it reaches a distance that should keep him from falling to his death. On his practice runs for the past few days, it had felt just like the times he spent with his Dad. Bouncing on the trampoline and doing flips and tricks and jumps in the split seconds he has in the air.
Practicing in the abandoned warehouse near enough to his apartment to train himself everyday, he’s gotten good enough that Peter barely thinks before plummeting himself down and down and down towards the concrete before flicking himself back up to a corner. He even tries catching different objects of varying sizes with his webs just in case, along with aiming practice to avoid shooting his webs all over the place.
Of course, he’s still a bit dodgy. But his reflexes had improved a significant amount from when he first started, he could mindlessly scroll on his computer and be able to catch a falling pencil with his webs. Or hit the dummy (slash mannequin) straight in the chest with a strong enough force to damage, but not kill.
Securing the bands around his wrists and doing a few nervous practice runs with a quick pew, Peter pulls his mask down. This is it, he thought. I’m really doing this. Imagine the irony if he dies the first night he becomes this vigilante, the amount of self training he endured just to get shot at by a basic thief.
No, not the time to be worried about the dangers out in the streets now that he thought this through. Now that he had put a target on his back the moment he decides to step out of his way and help people. They will hate him, and some might appreciate him, but Peter doesn’t care what the public thinks. As long as he’s taking responsibility for his powers, he repeats endlessly in his head, with the same voice oddly similar to Ben.
With one last glance towards the shattered mirror hanging limply on his wall,
Peter steps out the window.
Notes:
Finally, Peter’s on his way to becoming Spider-Man! The next few chapter would probably just be extracts of his time as a new vigilante (there will be slight angst because Peter needs to experience some things for character development and all) but after that, more major events will be occurring that would eventually lead up to Iron Man 1. However, this is still Peter centric so the stuff happening for other characters will only be mentioned briefly up until probably the first Avengers when Peter gets involved.
Again, thanks for 700+ hits I really appreciate the kudos and it encourages me to keep writing my best!!
Chapter Text
The rush, it’s exhilarating, it pulses through him with adrenaline supporting his every step, or swing.
It has almost been a month. A month since he first put on his hand crafted suit. 3 weeks since he mastered the art of swinging, memorising the typical wind speed following Queen’s skylines to better his webs. 2 weeks since his mask and figure had been plastered on to the front pages of the newspapers, ‘villain, or vigilant?’. One week since he noticed a glimpse of recognition in a burglar’s eyes, a hint of fear passed through the man’s face when spotting the red and blue mask.
3 days since he’s been appointed to be the new talk around Midtown. “Hey, have you heard about the guy going around Queens? Tries to stop crime.”, “Yeah, and apparently a dude he saved said that he shot webs at a gang. Read that he travels by it too.”, “Pfft. He doesn’t stop crime. The dude just breaks as many laws as the people he’s fighting off. Makes things harder for the police, he’s gonna have to stop eventually.”
2 hours since his friends questioned him about his opinions on the vigilante.
“Pete, what’dya think about the guy swinging ‘round Queens? You must’ve seen him sometimes, he practically hangs right at your doorstep.”, “Uh, no, I haven’t.”, “He’s lying right out of his ass.”.
“You agree that the strength it should take for the string to hold together and the wind resistance forcing it back should be almost, if not, impossible, right?”, “I guess.”, “At least try to sound interested.”.
Peter’s been trying to keep his schedule as unrecognizable as possible, no connections that could possibly link his routine to a random student in one of the most prestigious high schools in New York. Peter made sure to not be too flashy, he didn’t mean to make a public appearance into people’s conversations, it just so happened that people were nosy and snuck a few videos and pictures of him and posted them online.
It was bound to happen anyway, a crappy suit recycled from an old onesie worn by a quick individual running around fighting crime was something not very ordinary even in New York. Even weirder when that said individual was seen to be travelling by a strange device that shot out white strings at buildings to launch themselves at rooftops and down in sketchy alleyways.
Never once did the public take a clear picture of him or the whole of him. It was always just some blurred view of a figure seemingly flying through the sky at night. The best picture they did take however, was of his signature bright red and blue mask. Peter thought he made quite a name for himself.
Was it a good or a bad one though?
Probably a good one if you were one of the people he saved, not so much if you look in the people of the law’s eyes. Yes, the police didn’t tolerate him at all, Peter knows he disturbs their work by incorporating himself into their jobs. The moment they caught up to a guilty criminal, all they would see were the said person stuck on to a wall and a sticky note attached with a big mocking smiley face.
He might not be a big target in the police force’s list of wanted people, but something tells Peter that’s going to change if he continues to keep up with his extracurricular activities. But he had already promised himself that he won’t let the public interfere with him, no matter what they think, he will continue using his abilities for good.
That string of thought continues to nag at Peter throughout the week, what decides if something is good or bad? Does Peter? Can he think himself morally superior just because he says he fits in the criteria of a saint? Can he think himself better than the people stealing scraps of food from big companies, but not because they intend to harm, but because it was the only choice they could resort to?
In a world of cruelty and unfairness, justice is created. Is that not what Peter is? Justice? He’s out there in the streets of New York to bring balance, to help the good and stop the bad.
However, someone couldn’t be entirely evil, could they? Babies don’t come out of a mother’s womb evil, it’s the world outside that shapes their views, their prejudices, their actions.
Maybe, one of the many thieves Peter stopped and handed over to the police, they were trying to feed a dying family. Had that then made Peter the bad guy? For him to abuse his powers and intentionally stop a desperate man from saving what’s left of his life. And maybe, the victim of the crime could have lived a life of wrong-doings, they could’ve hurt people and have done horrendous acts. And yet, Peter saves them from the consequences of their actions. Does that then make him evil?
Peter learns throughout the short month he becomes a vigilante at night and a high school student by day, nothing is just white and black. There’s always something between good and evil, the victim and the offender. Justice by the law is supposed to stop cruelty, yet it itself is cruel. It doesn’t bargain or hear stories from the other side, it makes a decision at face value. It doesn’t consider that there’s a possibility the roles could be switched or nothing is as simple as heroes and villains. The law is unmerciful.
And that’s the big flaw in Peter’s vigilantism. The whole point of him risking his life on a thin rope and shoving on a poorly made mask to go out on the midnight streets is to bring good. To help people that can’t help themselves. To stop crime; badness. But throughout the spectrum, nothing is just that simple. Everything’s a little bit grey, some a bit darker and some a bit lighter.
Peter shakes his head to clear the rambling from his head. No time to threaten over an existential crisis, after all he has to test out a new gadget he’s been working on. With some vague questions jabbed at Ned about coding and hacking, Peter managed to figure out some sort of earpiece perfect for his patrols. If this works, it would add a great additional help to his newly appointed role as the local vigilante. Alongside with breaking maybe a few laws or so.
Taking out his phone, he opened a website he made just for himself to operate the new gadget. Nothing too flashy or complicated, just a simple on and off button and a ‘switch radios’ tab. Alongside with a handy notification that pops up on his phone just in case he wasn’t already suited up.
So here goes nothing, he hovers his thumb over the ‘on’ button ready to activate it… on a count of three, he whispers. Three, two, one.
…Code B coming ahead, reported from a Deli just- 2 minutes ago. Send in a group ready to head south. Yep, that’s right, a bank robbery with about a gang of six armed with guns. At Gormad Road, 5 miles away.
And that’s where Peter finds himself going, on a Friday night where normal students complain about homework and lay on a bed comfortable and safe, whereas he heads towards a bank robbery with nothing but his webs and courage. His ears pick up on the next crime sighting conveniently near the location he’s heading. He knew hacking into the NYPD’s radios was genius!
-
“Have you seen the papers, Peter?”
Aunt May randomly threw out when they were sitting facing each other on their small but useful dining table. Peter stopped slurping on his noodles to look up at his Aunt with a trace of uncertainty.
He swallows his last bit of his dinner, “Um. No, I don’t think so. Why? Is there something wrong?”
“Oh, nothing. Just the guy going around kicking some butt, apparently he went and stopped a bank robbery before the police even got there. It’s dangerous, what he’s doing.”
Peter gulped. He had to try very hard to not cough up the chewed-up bits of the noodles and to put on a fake facade of mild curiosity at the statement.
“Do you still have the papers? I want to see.”
“Oh yeah, it’s just on the sofa. You can go get it, right? I have to wipe off the burnt scraps on the pan, it’s supposed to be stainless steel… guess not.”
Shaking his head at his Aunt’s cooking skills, Peter went to grab the newspaper lying innocently on the cheap brown fabric.
LOCAL BANK ROBBERY STOPPED BY MASKED VIGILANTE
Just yesterday the Green’s Bank located at Gormad Road was viciously attacked by a group of masked robbers. Armed with weaponries, the group managed to confiscate an estimated 40-50k. When all hope was thought lost, the familiar masked man sighted first from a month ago (learn more on pg.5 or on our website), appeared swinging from the buildings next to the bank onto the crime scene. Covered head to toe, civilians struggled to understand his intentions from his meddling the last few weeks in Queens. Luckily police had arrived before anything escalated, however the masked man had already disappeared leaving the group of robbers tied up and the bags of money webbed up beside them.
So, that just sparks the question, who is this mysterious man running, or swinging, around the streets at night. And what exactly is his goal? Police believe this is an act of vigilantism and should require legal authority before interfering with the law’s work, while others believe this is a heroic act inspired from just pure goodness. Vote on the poll uploaded on our website to leave your opinion on this matter!
-
“Alright, just give me the money. Don’t try and make it more complicated than it should be. Promise I won’t do nothin’ to you if you just stick to what we agreed with, no loopholes, no excuses, just the cash.”
Peter sparks up with excitement at the sound of commotion. Yes! This is what he’s been waiting for the last few hours just mindlessly swinging from buildings to towers. The streets of Queens have been suspiciously quiet, not even the areas with the highest crime rates had any remote conflict and the police radios had been relatively quiet save for some minor incidents.
Peter likes to think it was him that had made the difference. When he first took his step out his window and flung himself down multiple storied buildings, crime had been at an all time high. He would see robberies down a road and an assaulter just a few blocks ahead, but now it’s been gradually calming down throughout the weeks.
He would get recognised more often than not as well. Of course he doesn’t have an official title yet for his vigilante identity, so Peter’s heard a couple of creative nicknames he’s been assigned to. ‘Web-slinger’ is his favourite one currently, not only does it fit his theme well; it sounds pretty damn cool if he does say so himself.
He quickly flips down on a low roof below from the one he was perching on before. He finds through the days of fighting crime that it was better to assess a situation before going head first into it. Once he jumped in between two individuals fighting heatedly only to find out through many explanations and awkward gestures between the two that it was a couple debating whether they should get Chinese or Thai that evening.
A rustle. “Well, you’re just going to have to wait a couple of weeks. I’ll get you your money but just lay off a bit, yeah? No need to get so angry at something so tiny, besides, the money I borrowed wasn’t even that much anyway.”
“You said that 2 weeks ago! You and your friends were supposed to have given me back my money back in January, but I’ve just let you slip away because you kept on making the same excuse every time!”
The group were huddled outside an alleyway that stank of beer and smoke, they must’ve been at this for a while. The man who was shouting previously stood alone while the gang of young men who looked like they were in their early 20s stood carelessly against a grimy wall. One was even checking a gold Rolex hanging loosely on his wrist, looking way too bored for something so heated.
“Chill out, man! No worries, I’ll get you back your money tomorrow, you have my word.”
“No. I’m not buying that lazy, half-assed excuse anymore. I know you have enough cash on your person. If you don’t hand it over now, I have a gun.”
At that, Peter bounced up from where he was plastered on wet concrete. His muscles pulled and contracted and his bones cracked with belittled thrill. This is what he’s out here for, to clean up dirty acts on streets so people can walk home freely, so they know at least someone was out here trying to make a difference. This is what Peter lives for.
Expecting nothing less, the man pulled out a small pistol from his back pocket, Peter glances carefully at the weapon and is surprised when the safety was still on. Usually criminals wouldn’t hesitate to fire aimlessly at innocent people, they wouldn’t take pity on anyone, firing dangerously with the element of surprise.
“Man, seriously? C’mon, he told you the money’ll be in your hands by tomorrow, understand? Don’t get so pissy over it.”
This time a different man speaks up from where he was standing behind the group, Peter had failed to notice his presence until just now. He also notices how outnumbered the man with the gun was, it was a 5 versus 1 fight. However, he gets the advantage of possessing a weapon.
The man only squints his eyes momentarily at them before cocking his gun at the gang, not wasting a second of their deceit. The safety is still on.
“Woah, woah, woah! Guys, calm down your pants and let’s settle this in a more professional way, surely there’s no need to pull out a gun! Am I right, mister?”
All 6 of their eyes light up in shock, not in a hopeful manner but in annoyance, disgruntled by his sudden appearance from seemingly nowhere. Okay, not a very good start. A guy with auburn curly hair steps forward and practically pushes the leader away, his face was greedy, sinful. The man was already too far gone from the hateful act of loathing.
“Hey! I know you, you’re that guy from the news. With the red, blue pyjamas that swings around with, well, I don’t really know what it is. To be honest, thought they faked it for clout.”
They’re not pyjamas! “Yup, that would be me.”, he sighs reluctantly.
Peter turns his head around to the man with the gun still pointed at the group, however now his attention was focused on his mask instead. He looks terrified, scared like a frightened deer caught in headlights. It never occurred to Peter that someone could be scared of him, or even shake by the sight of him.
“Hey, man. Mind putting the gun down? A bit intimidating if you ask me. Y’know you’re actually breaking like, a shit tons of laws right now, could totally get you into prison.”
“Look, I- I wasn’t actually gonna shoot, it was just to get them to hand over the money quicker. See, they’ve been using me as a loaner for the past few months and have only paid me back once or twice before they go deal drugs again. I was just-“
Peter shoots a web out from the shabby scissor-cut hole he took out to discharge his web fluid, it flies off at a lightning speed towards the gun and sticks on to it like a magnet. He feels himself being pulled forward slightly from the force connecting him and the man, and before he could react, Peter pulls with a strength only available from his powers.
The gun rips off the man’s grip and thuds on the ground motionlessly, Peter webs the pistol on the concrete with a flick of his wrist and shoots out two more just in case.
He looks up just in time to see the last of the moronic group had sprung off towards the other end of the street. One was throwing gang signs at him - no, not at Peter, but at the man faced in front of him - and another was cackling maniacally like a wild hyena in the Sahara.
Peter hesitantly glances up at the man ahead of him. Thousands of expressions pass through his eyes, shock, anger, hopelessness and despair. He looks tired, worn down, his shoulders sag and his head that was held up confidently once was hung down staring at a wall beside him.
The man scrutinises him with resentment, not strong enough for it to be hateful but it radiates off him like a virus. The intensity in his gaze spreads over to Peter and hits him like a brick wall.
All Peter could do was stand dumbfounded, frozen where he’s latched on the wet floor. He helped, right? His stickiness did nothing to attach him in spot, nonetheless he feels rooted down, pinned under the scrutiny of the man’s gaze.
“You’re playing a dangerous game. I heard you were supposed to be the good guy, you help the innocent people and punish the bad, right? Sometimes not everything is all that it seems, man. You think everything is just as simple as good and evil. No one, not even a saint is perfect.”
He squints at Peter. Every drip of anger leaks out of him and evaporates on the spot, the last bit of indignation replaced by worn melancholy.
“You try to save people, you try to make a difference. I get that. But not everything is that easy, you might not want to admit it but tonight you helped the wrong men.”
He must’ve seen the incredulous look forming from his mask, Peter doesn’t know how his expressions translated on to the thick fabric separating him from the man with just one solid material. He carries on before Peter can interrupt him.
“I know I’m not good either, and I’ll never be. I’ve done bad deeds and I’m far from a good person, but right then? I was not evil, I deserved to take back what was rightfully mine in the first place. What about that is so wrong?”
With one last searching look, he flips his hood over his balding head, he looks old from relieving all those words out of his system. The speech itself might not be long or orchestrated, but the meaning was impactful. The words seep into Peter like water, he soaks in the information one syllable by syllable, he reflects.
“What you’re doing, I appreciate, kid. I’m not mad at you for believing what you did was right, God, I’ve met many others like you throughout my lifetime. I- I just want you to understand that sometimes, things are better to be left alone.”
The man leaves and Peter falls down next to the gun.
Notes:
Ahhh guysss, thank you everyone so so so much for the nice comments, it really warms my heart to know people are enjoying my work!
And Peter realised that there’s always some gray in life… I don’t really know what direction this chapter was supposed to go, I just kinda sat down and started writing with the flow. Idk if this little interaction is gonna get brought up again in the fic, ig it’s just there to give Peter a wake up call and for him to see the world for what it is since he’s still 14. Hope it makes sense!!
Chapter Text
Peter sniffs. He smells the burn of wood and gas erupting off flames. A scrunch of his nose and that’s all it takes for Peter to understand what’s happening. A fire. From somewhere east, it’s big and erupting out of a building like a volcano ready to claim lives at stake.
Without thinking, Peter swings right. He ventures off at rapid speed without glimpsing behind or at the honks of cars passing him when he steps on the roofs of their vehicles to accelerate faster. His senses amplify and he can hear the shouts of annoyed businessmen and crying distraught babies carried by shushing mothers and awe-stricken toddlers pointing at his flying figure shouting, “It’s Spider-Man!”.
Spider-Man. He guessed that after weeks of reckless swinging, tossing guns and knives down faster and faster each time he encountered them, he’d finally earned a name that seemed to stick around. It’s a bit childish, but it works.
Peter gets closer to the noise of fire and wind clashing together, the sound of screams and shouts at the sight of their homes burnt down to ashes by just a few mere seconds. The earpiece he uses has yet to catch up on the flames burning down furniture and the desperate attempt of evacuation. Peter’s enhanced hearing had beaten the police.
At this, the distant echo of the man who’s been invading Peter’s restless mind for days seeps into his thoughts once again.
“Sometimes, things are better to be left alone.”
Peter’s been forcing the voice out of his head for centuries now, but no matter what, the night replays over and over again countlessly until it drives him hysterical. And no matter the amount of convincing Peter excuses for himself, some part of him can’t help but to agree.
Will he be capable of facing fires too dangerous for even his powers to conquer? Will his suit made from recycled scraps be able to withstand the pressure of heat surrounding his body? Peter doesn’t know, but what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him now.
The thought of dead children and grieving families overpowered what little common sense Peter had left. This is way out of his range of experience, he deals with petty criminals and small robberies on an average. What he doesn’t face everyday are fires big enough to disintegrate every particle that makes up his puny body. This is for the trained police and firefighters.
And yet, Peter goes anyway.
He arrives at the scene just in time for a middle-aged man to rush off the building, carrying a shouting baby in his arms. He looked distraught, frightened was the man with fine smile lines aged with experience and time. Is he a single father? Is the mom already evacuated out of the burning building? Or perhaps she’s still trapped in the falling concrete and disintegrating bricks.
Peter wastes no time to rush over to the man frantically calling out a name he can’t distinguish, mixed with the overbearing screams around him and the strong slavic accent tinged in the man’s deep voice it was almost impossible to comprehend anything.
“Hey, sir-“
The man’s head whipped around at the sound of Peter’s disruption and the slight tap on the shoulder. He doesn’t recognise him but his eyes were looking at his suit while scanning his blue and red mask up and down with clear confusion. The baby only cries louder at the sight of Peter.
“My- my wife, she is trapped in there! I lost her when she was following me down the stairs but the fire separated us, I was too preoccupied with my darling baby that I didn’t noticed we had parted-“
A distant shout erupted from deep inside the apartment block, the loud vibrations tingled up Peter’s spine and traveled up to his head ringing with warning. Before he had let the man finish his desperate pleas, Peter was already sprinting towards what was left of the entrance. The last thing he heard from outside the melting building was the man whispering, “Please… save her.”
With the weight of an expectant father and husband crying for his love, Peter fires off to the stairs with only his senses left to guide him blindly through the vultures of flames. The first level he didn’t sense any odd heat signatures throughout the entire floor, but Peter made swift work to quickly scan the entire length of every room before darting to the stairs again.
Too hot, too hot, was all Peter could think about in his search around the building. The flames danced between his thin goggles with only so little fabric separating him from an inevitable death if he ever met the scolding fire. It was a surprise that anything at all was even left, it made Peter’s job infinitely harder to tiptoe across layers of cement while keeping a steady pace to scan for any survivors left.
A dry cough escapes from his chapped lips, choking out the dust he inhaled through the holes in his mask; Peter gasps in a gulp of air only to wheeze it out in following coughs in straight sharp sounds. No, he still has 3 more floors left to go before he can swing out of the remnants of this destroyed building and lay down on the dirty concrete of reeking alleyways to catch his breath.
He has to. Or Peter wouldn’t know what he’d do if he lets a life slip out of his hands and disappoint grieving families waiting for their loved ones to return. It’d be all his fault if someone dies now.
Peter sprung up stairs with adrenaline pumping through his veins and bust down doors like aluminium ready to be folded. It was only when Peter was ready to visit the last floor of the building he heard a hoarse shout coming from underneath a pile of rubble, a desperate cry banging at the unmoving bricks surrounding a corner.
A rush of a lightning strike passes through Peter within a second, he dodges falling pipes and ducks under remaining furniture to reach the pile in just a short blink. Without hesitating, he lifts the mass of the whole rubble in one quick push. It pressed his fingertips onto the rough surface of the bricks and flexes his muscles to withhold the weight, his bones crack with an agonising click and Peter squeezes his eyes shut.
He felt something tingling at the bottom of his suit and peeks his eyes open to spot a distorted woman looking back at him with shock and disbelief. Like she couldn’t imagine that someone was going to save her from the unimaginable pain compressing her underneath the piles and piles of rubble. Like she felt hope at the very sight of Peter.
The woman glances up from her hunched position and at his struggling figure to withhold the weight crushing on him, she wastes no time to crawl out of the hole with what little strength she must possess and fiery determination in her mind. The moment Peter made sure she was safe out of the tight pocket underneath him, he dropped the bricks with a loud thud on the shattering floor.
He takes in a shuddering breath at the little oxygen left in the air and proceeds to cough out a series of tears bursting from his eyes. His body ignites with a burning sensation that screams for him to run, to leave the building and out to safety. But his senses shakes him into awareness and promptly reminds him of the woman next to him with her eyes full of worry and fear.
Peter ignores the warning signals his body was telling him to just move and lifts the woman up with one steady swoop, she wraps her shaking arm around his neck and holds herself up to a standing position. He locks eyes with her and hopes he conveyed a good enough message when he scans the room and spots a window at the back of the building.
Peter swipes his feet on the floor and bends slightly to a running stance. He checks his web fluid and reminds himself he had barely got to use them throughout this ordeal. Tightening his grip around the woman’s body, Peter sprints as fast as his body would allow him and darts out into the open air, welcoming the great relief of oxygen passing through his oesophagus.
He releases a web and catches it onto an opposite building, he lets the rush of the wind control his fall and tries blocking off the frightened screams coming from the woman, along with her awkwardly pressing into his side with a surprisingly strong grip. Peter whips to his right to steer their direction towards the front of the building where the police and firefighters were gathered together.
Hoses were lifted by strong firefighters and water sprayed out in a long hypnotising stream across the fires. Civilians gathered behind fenced pathways and recorded videos at the magnificent flames still erupting up at the roof down to the third story.
The first to spot their appearance was the man carrying the baby who had stopped crying and was now sucking his thumb in his toothless mouth. His eyes were sad, casted downwards with an air of acceptance, unshed tears filling up his irises. But when Peter landed on the pavement in front of the man standing hushed beside an officer, he snagged his eyes upwards at the sight of them and cried a broken laugh.
“Oh, Nadia, you are safe- I can’t believe it! I can’t-“, he bursts out in a huddle of affectionate tears and rushes to embrace the broken women.
She was slightly taller than him and it made the angle awkward, but they embraced each other with only the comfort of two loving individuals desperate to feel and know that the other was alive. The officer who was taking questions stared at Peter with wide opened eyes, he looked at his co-workers who had yet to notice Peter’s presence and stuttered through a surprised yammer.
Before the officer could fathom an understandable response, Peter dashed towards the almost destroyed building engulfed completely by the inferno of flames. He has one more floor to check.
Peter webs up towards a store near the apartment, he pushes his weight and launches up and around the air until he reaches the same window at the back of the building. The frames surrounding the collapsed glass melts like hot glue and deteriorates down to join the ceaseless fires.
He grabs the neckline of his suit and covers his nose to prevent smoke from entering his airways, but no matter how much Peter tries to block the intoxicating fumes, he fails to stop coughing and gasping at the seams of his mask.
He shouldn’t give up, can’t give up. What if there were still people stuck in there? How can Peter possibly live with the blood on his hands knowing he had let someone die on his conscience? Knowing he could’ve saved them but had left to put himself first, had given up innocent people in the fires to rot just for Peter to catch a gasp of fresh air.
Stumbling to step up the cracked stairs, Peter resorted to crawling through the mist of fires and dodged falling rubble ready to kill at any opportunity, desperately seeking for any familiar heartbeat around. Then a beat. And another following the one from before. It was faint, but the slow steady pulse rings clearer than ever in his ears.
A desperate gasp bursts from Peter’s mouth. Someone is alive! And they’re in the building abandoned and alone. They must be so scared thinking death was haunting them from just a breath away, just a small grasp until they were met by the slaughter of life.
He couldn’t see. Not through the masses of unconfined debris that might cover a person with a heart still pumping, waiting for their last breath to take them away. What little voice left in Peter had evaporated along with the last few clean air inside of him. He was trapped. Caged inside the flames engulfing him. Peter is as good as dead buried under the inferno.
A rasp of a whisper escaped from a mouth somewhere in front of Peter. A dry heave sounded like it took every amount of power to expel the sigh, like it drained them from just making a small indistinguishable syllable. Peter reaches out to drag himself along the rusted tiles, pulling his sunken body nearer to the quiet dry sound.
He can make it. Peter can save them just like how he saved the woman from facing her demise. There was hope.
He scans the room, searching until his eyes gaze out from his dusted cracked goggles to land on an elderly woman lying underneath a fallen beam. She looked so fragile, so old, so tired. Peter crawls and crawls, forcing his hands to push himself where his legs could not. Ignoring the warnings his body shoots up to his mind to run and hide, only relying on his overstimulated senses, pure adrenaline and raw strength.
Peter collapses next to the old woman. He can do this. He can lift the beam and call for help, save her and live without the guilt burdened on him. Live with the freedom of knowing he made a difference, the freedom of knowing he prevented death. Just lift the beam and call for help-
The woman tilts her head ever so slightly to face Peter, her wrinkled face clear within the sparkling fire illuminating above them. She looked familiar, Peter knew her. Recognised the deep etches of fine lines carved into her face, the grey matted hair splayed across the floors, the brave composure she possesses even in the darkest times.
She was the old woman Peter encountered in the alleyway. The woman who was about to be shot by a common thief, the woman that made Peter realize his curse was a gift, the woman he had never gotten the name of. The first person Peter had saved.
She smiled at him. The action flashing a strike of pain through her body, the lines on her face made clearer by the hurt coursing across her face. Peter wanted to reassure her that she was alright, he was going to save her somehow, but the only sound he could make was a broken whimper that sounded like a child’s cry.
“Peter. You came.”
Another sob escapes his swollen lips, he bites on them to swallow the cries. Blood trickles out and it tastes like iron against his hot body. How did she know it was him? He had made sure to conceal his identity well enough that even Aunt May doesn’t suspect anything, his closest friends never bothered noticing his odd behaviours throughout his time patrolling. Was it so obvious that a near stranger had figured it out?
Somehow, at a moment of desperation, Peter found his voice, “Don’t worry, I’m- I’m gonna get you out and- you’re going to live. You’re going to be fine, we’re going to survive this. I just have to-“
Peter prepares to lift the beam crushing on to her weak frame, he readies to once again move a weight too heavy for him to carry, pushing the very limits of his strength and the boundaries of his body. She lifts a fragile hand to stop him.
“No… I’m a lost cause, Peter.”, she smiles, “I’ve lived too long for you to risk your life saving me. Go.”
What? “No, you’re wrong. No one isn’t worth saving, everyone deserves a chance to live. I don’t get to just leave you here to fend for myself, it’s unfair.”, Peter croaks out.
She looks worn down, tired of the constant reminder to gasp for fresh air. The longer she spoke, the harder it was for her to keep her eyes open.
“You’re something special, Peter… It’s been a long time since I’ve last seen someone as brave and selfless as you.”, she shuts her eyes and lays her hand across his. Peter cries, he cries and follows his finger up to her pulse.
“I’m glad you took my advice to follow your heart. You do things people today are scared of to face… Leave, if not for you, then for me.”
No, she couldn’t die. There was still hope left. He has to try.
“Please, don’t give up. Don’t give up! Help me, please, please…”, his sobs were quietened by the incoming flames attacking viciously along the remaining walls separating them from freedom. They were so close, Peter could save her.
He doesn’t know if he was convincing him or her now.
But even amongst the lies Peter feeds himself, veiled behind the delusion he can never rid himself of, the naive little boy contained inside him still spreading its remnants around his mind, he knew the rubble would be too heavy. Peter’s exhausted. He can faint at any given moment. The last of his strength vanishes alongside his once desperate crave for help.
She rests her body on the flooring, relaxes her hand in his, eyes fluttering close as her pulse slows. He remembers something. Something that he had to know. There was one last thing Peter needed to ask.
“Wait. What’s your name?”
A beat. Then another following too slow after. She hesitates.
“Lilly.”
Peter strokes the grey hair scattered behind her sweaty forehead, the mop cushioning her head from the scolding tiles. He squeezes her hand, fingers messily intertwined together in a gentle weave.
“Nice to meet you, Lilly.”
Then the pulse stops. Her heart pumps its last blood remaining in her motionless body. Peter had failed to save her.
For the 3 months he had been notoriously risking his survival in order to save another’s, the first life that Peter had saved was the first that he had lost.
Notes:
Peter’s first death as Spider-Man! It originally wasn’t supposed to be a big reveal moment but then I thought why not make it the lady that Peter had first saved be the first that he couldn’t. I was kind of proud when I figured that one out, I guess it felt poetic to me! I also have plans for that the next few chapters are gonna be more focused on progressing on to the main storyline then on Peter sooo yeah :)
Anyway, thank you everyone who’s been interacting with the fic!! You’ll never go unnoticed and I’ll forever appreciate it!!
Chapter Text
Someone was following him. They were quick, agile, they tailed him across the orange skylines of the sunsets blessing New York. The sun setting and thus, the moon arising, marked his official time as Spider-Man for a whole of 5 months. A journey of ups and downs, victories and failures, life and death, maintained in his regular routine of swinging through the concrete jungles and crime ingrained into the streets.
Peter was recognised now. He could just be mildly resting on a ledge of a sky roof, swinging his legs repeatedly in a hypnotic rhythm and someone would be able to shout his alias from a few streets down. He would see videos and photography uploaded on to Reddit and YouTube labelled, ‘superhero stops bus crash with bare hands!’. His friends would bring up the topic of the web swinger and all Peter could do was numbly nod and agree.
Spider-Man was now a regular customer in Queens.
Of course, that then came with the down sides. Along with all the praise, there are always some that will loathe his very existence, hate that he was disrupting the night with his vigilantism. They think that he causes trouble, brings chaos with him everywhere his sticky hands will go. He breaks laws left and right the moment he steps out the window with the infamous mask and costume.
Speaking of masks and costumes, it was about time Peter had upgraded into a proper suit fit for flexibility and fighting. He would sweat horribly in his old badly-sewed together outfit, the mismatched patterns dancing along the costume would often bring unwanted laughs from passing civilians. A bit demeaning if Peter says so himself.
Many years passed by when his Mom would spend hours a day wasting her time teaching little Peter on how to properly work a sewing machine. The hastily thrown together blue and red suit was more of a last minute cause than a deliberate attempt at stitching up a concealable disguise on hiding his identity.
Now that he could sit down in front of the sewing machine without the impending guilt building up on him for wasting time on something as unimportant as a suit, Peter can actually try making a semi-good disguise that won’t attract unnecessary attention.
He opted for a more darker themed colour instead of May’s bright yoga pants, completely made with spandex alongside with some decorative black linings across the fabric. Ditching the ski goggles that he had found deep inside some boxes underneath his closet, he used mesh lenses that optimised his sight without blurring the edges along his peripheral vision.
All together, Peter would say he had done a pretty decent job for a limited amount of material he had access to.
Peter jumps down from where he was perching on top of a broadcast tower down to a residential building. The person following him was experienced, their skill far exceeded what Peter usually deals with on a daily basis. They could escape his sharpest turns his spider-senses (yes, he thought it’d fit calling them that) forced on him. however still not immune from the tingles sent from his nerves warning him about a potential danger.
They could dodge the webbing he shoots at them with a quicker precision than that of a normal untrained human. Maybe they were specially appointed from a mercenaries company to kill him. It won't be too far off compared to what he had to witness on a random Tuesday evening, one tried to attack him with a kitchen knife yelling, ‘you ruined my life!’.
Peter just hadn’t expected that he would already have a target on his back from people higher up in the food chain. He must’ve done something awful for a person to hire and pay another to kill him. For example, probably laughing at their failed attempt at killing Peter themselves, he happened to pick up a habit of making jokes in serious situations.
Slowing his speed from pointlessly swinging through the air as he’d completely ditched the attempt at spotting crime and instead focused on luring his stalker into a less remote area, Peter eventually landed on a rough concrete roof. It was wide open with enough walls and objects for him to latch onto incase this resorted to physical combat, he intentionally chose a spot with a high vantage point where he could take advantage of his webs.
Peter had to learn to take an upper hand using his surroundings when fighting, no use for his web shooters if there was nothing to shoot at. He’d been enclosed too many times during confrontations where he had to resort to hand-to-hand combat. Mediocre street gangs were obviously no match for his fast reflexes and enhanced strength, but if he had access to swinging, the fight could’ve ended in mere seconds.
Landing on a rough patch of ground, Peter slowed to a stop with a light thud. Not much he could do when waiting for a potential threat chasing him down, but he couldn’t make the trap seem suspicious. If you analysed their activity along the 2 days they continuously tracked Peter down, they would never get too close for him to launch an attack or immediately head towards him without scepticism.
Relieving his wrists of the web shooters, he pretended to check for faults and put up his best act of exasperation when he spotted a ‘complication’ with the bands. He sagged his posture down as if he was letting go of any tension from his body, often a sign to others that someone was relaxed in an area (or in other words, their alert was down).
Flexing his muscles around in a circle while loading up web fluid from a hidden pocket on his thigh, Peter waited for any signs of movement. He had to pretend as if he was struggling to secure the fluid in the container to prolong the act of deception until his stalker decided to join him.
A tingle down his spine chilled his nerves, it activated his defences up ready for a fight and his mind was alert with unresolved fire hungry for action. They were here. Finally after the days of playing cat and mouse, they meet both knowing the other was just as capable as themselves.
Peter knew they were trained, probably sent after him by a vengeful heart he had crossed once, but a coward nonetheless to hide behind someone stronger to take their fight. He felt the vibrations from a soft landing just a few feet away from him, an impressive feat for someone with no enhancements to land silently on concrete. Even with Peter’s boosted heating ability, he could only pick up a slight thump that almost passed his notice.
They crept towards him with deliberate care on every step, whether their aim was to attack him he wasn’t sure. Their motive was still unknown to Peter, they hadn’t shown any sign of violence while lurking behind him for the past days or had they tried to initiate a civil conversation between them.
Or maybe, they could just be a dedicated fan that wanted his autograph. Surprisingly, this wouldn’t be the first person to follow him around for just a bit of recognition from the spider-crawling vigilante.
Peter spun around and launched a web straight at a pair of legs. The combat boots worn by a set of long legs in skintight black fabric danced past the fluid as if she had expected it, no direct sign of struggle or any display of surprise were exhibited from her body language alone. Damn.
He glanced up to meet a woman dressed head to toe in a stretchy sort of material hugging her frame, the boots that had so elegantly stepped past his attack were seamless and her posture all but screamed power. She’s destructively beautiful, her wavy auburn hair styled up in a ponytail with not a single strand out of sight, her face showing nothing but a hint of amusement like he was child’s play. Like she didn’t think he was dangerous.
Peter started his patrol almost an hour ago and she had followed right on his tail for 45 minutes. She wasn’t panting or tired, she looked as if she hadn’t spent the night chasing him down while he swung by webs and her by foot. He crouched in a defensive position and she stood above looking down at him without fright. For once, Peter felt intimidated.
The belt secured around her waist perched with two pistols on each side of her hip and a small knife attached on to her thigh, and yet she doesn’t bother lifting a finger on any of them. Silence reigned thickly between them with Peter ready to fire again and her without an ounce of fear.
“Spider-Man. We finally meet.”, her silky voice breaks the silence enclosing them in a tomb, it was authorising and it called for attention.
Peter squints at her, he bites his lip in hesitation. If she was here to kill then the fight would’ve started by now, nothing about her stance screamed for violence and yet his spider sense told him to not relax around her. Should he try shooting again?
“Hands off your freaky webs and then let’s see if we can have a talk. You’re a hard man to track and an even harder man to figure out. We’re having trouble cracking you, Spider-Man, did you know that?”
Peter shuffles his feet and steadies himself; he doesn’t trust her, he doesn’t let go of his shooters but he does stand up slowly from his vulnerable position beneath her. What was she talking about?
“We? You’re working for someone, aren’t you? Or are you working with someone? Who sent you?”
She crosses her arms in front of her, raising an eyebrow at him. Peter notices this puts her at a disadvantage from accessing her weapons if she was going to instigate a fight, he tightens his hold on his shooters. If she was trained, surely she must’ve realised obstructing her hold on a viable weapon and slash or self defence was like, the first thing you shouldn’t do during a potential conflict.
Or maybe she was indirectly offering peace by showing her intentional act of vulnerability around him.
“So many questions and not a single answer to mine. I’m not here to fight you, or am I here to please you however you want. This can only work if we co-operate without a hold of power above each other, so are you going to let go of your shooters or not?”
“How do I know if I can trust you? For all I know you could shoot me in the head the second I let go.”
She sighs with exasperation clearly laced in her groan, a vein almost bulges on her forehead and annoyance practically leaks out of her. They’ve barely exchanged a sentence or two and she’s already disgruntled at Peter. Nice.
“All I’m asking, Spider-Man, is for your hands to not touch your shooters. My hands aren’t touching mine, only fair for you to do the same. Besides, we both know you can dodge a bullet fast enough.”, at that, she smirks at him.
So she knows that his reflexes are above average or supernaturally exceptional, even. But it doesn’t take a genius to put the pieces together and figure out that Peter had some sort of advantage over the normal human. It only takes one glance at how he fights to know that he could dodge attacks scarily well or that he looked as if he knew punches were to be thrown at him seconds before they occur.
“And if you know that much then you’ll also know that I don’t attack unless I absolutely need to. I don’t hurt people that haven’t done anything provocative. Plus, comparing a literal gun to artificial spider webs seems a little biased to me.”
Peter catches her eye twitch the longer he keeps rambling, it’s clear she would rather this be over and done with the quicker the better. Which means that she was most likely sent by someone to follow Peter without her opinion on the matter, as seen with her annoyance at him.
“Fine. You act as petulant as the bugs I kill with my fists. As long as you don’t try to run off, I really don’t care if you have an attachment issue with those bands. God knows how long I have to tail you before you stop swinging around Queens for 3 hours straight.”
“Hey! Who did you just call petulant? You’re the one who’s all feisty and impatient! If you really don’t want to chase me around, and believe me the feeling’s mutual, you can gladly leave me alone, thanks.”
She pinches her nose bridge and shuts her eyes tight. Peter uncontrollably jerks when she moves her arms, any action that could lead to the guns sets off his senses, it bangs in his head like a tsunami swirling madly trying to escape the confines of his mind.
Exhaling slowly, she mutters, “Why did Fury have to set me up with a kid, this mission is pointless.”
Obviously the mumbles weren’t meant for Peter to pick up on, luckily for him, his hearing was able to give him clear access to conversations happening where he couldn’t even lay eyes on. Whatever information she has on him, it doesn’t include super-hearing.
Peter was about to ask who Fury was before she promptly interrupted him, “I’m from an agency called Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistic Division where we reinforce peacekeeping from dangers including super-humans, supernatural phenomenons, terrorist threats, stuff like that.
We’re basically an organisation tasked to monitor potential allies or occurring sightings that could pose risk to the public. You’re kind of… somewhere in the middle of that. And you’ve sparked an interest within our community.
We know you possess some sort of ability that allows you to do the things that you do, we’ve been keeping tabs on you for months ever since we spotted paranormal activities coming from Queens. Crime rate has significantly gone down and news passes by fast about a man that stops trucks with his bare hands.”
Peter’s thoughts fly by and silent questions numbs his brain for answers he doesn’t have. This Strategic Homeland Intervene thing dulls his mind for any recognition for the name and was repeatedly flung back with unsuccessful attempts at identifying this said agency.
Surely, this was a government thing, right? It sounds too professional to be just a throw-away comment. Fuck, why did the stupid government had to get involved! All this time had passed and even the police didn’t bother batting an eye at his appearance, he had thought that he’d gotten on the good side of the authorities by now!
And what was all this talk about supernatural activity anyway? The last public phenomenon to happen was Captain America getting injected with the super serum, and the latest was now Peter with his spider-bite. The world was full of mysteries and surprises, yes, but she had made it sound like the government was hiding magic from them.
She raised her eyebrows at him with a new light in her eyes, shuffling on her feet and pursing her lips together in a tight line, considering him long and hard. It was clear she’s waiting for a response, or just a sign he even remotely heard all that she just said.
His quietness was unnerving, he had famously made a reputation of chit chattering during his routine around the neighbourhood. The friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man that makes conversation with old ladies crossing the road and small talk with civilians passing by.
“So, let me get this straight. You’re from a government agency and you’re sent to, what, spy on me? To turn me in? Or even worse, shut me in a room and question me like the… ah, what was it? The little petulant bug that I am. Yeah, see, you never really told me what you were following me around for anyway.
And this Strategic Homeland thing sounds like a bunch of crap to me, I’ve never heard of this said organisation before. All these threats that you talk about, the supernatural ones, care to elaborate?”
“Yes, actually. I was recruited by my agent for a co-operation that’s funded by the government. We don’t tend to team up as a whole but we undertake the various threats happening unbeknownst to the main public. Probably why you wouldn’t have heard of us or the said threats before, we protect the world by operating secretly, our way to insure the safety of the public is to completely hide it from them.”
Peter fidgets with his shooters. This is really taking up his time, the crimes that he could’ve stopped by now! “Well? You still haven’t told me what you’re here for yet. And for the record, if this whole organisation is supposed to be secret, I’m not sure telling all of this to someone who’s known to blab is a great idea.”
The folds on her sleeves started to crinkle by how hard she was gripping them. “Yeah, if you don’t mind I was about to get to that, genius. You kind of got it right about me bringing you in-“
By the look on Peter’s face and the sudden movement of his body, it was obvious that he was about to catapult off the building without a word left to say. She immediately hurried on, “We’re not going to arrest you if that’s what you were thinking.”
Peter hesitantly slips his fingers off the button that’ll explode the webs capable of carrying him away, “My agent wants to have a chat with you somewhere more… secluded. Somewhere that you can discuss matters about your whole Spider-Man business.”
“Look, what this is all sounding like to me is that you’re gonna try to talk me out of being Spider-Man. Whatever you and your secret organisation want with me can fuck off and leave me alone.”, Peter laughs without humour, he glances to his right where a possible escape route is at.
“It’s not what you think, Spider-Man. There are things bound to happen in the world that, believe it or not, matters a whole lot more than your feelings. We have a plan that includes seeing the bigger picture, a plan to see if we can become something more. All you have to do is to trust us-“
Peter turns and whips a web out on her still crossed hands, entrapping her arms together in one sharp strike. He shoots out another web at her struggling feet, she flails and falls down hard onto the concrete floor. Her mouth was still opened with the last remains of words spewing nonsensical ideas of the future which he refuses to give in to.
“Well, this has been nice and all but I have no interest in your plans. Don’t know if you’ve noticed but I work alone. I help the little guys that can’t help themselves, I don’t work for a big company that can monitor my every move and I especially don’t want to be in the bigger picture.”
Peter spins and without a second look back, leaps off the edge of a railing and falls down to the ongoing traffic polluting the streets of Queens. He relishes the gushes of air attacking his masked face and manipulates the wind to carry him away from the rooftop.
He drops down until his toes could scrape the surface of a road before launching himself back up into the air and attaching his webbing onto the sides of skyscrapers. He could distantly hear evidence of a struggling woman trying to break free, laced with grunts of frustration and disgusted groans.
Peter escapes as far as his immobile arms would allow him, he was not far away enough to hear the last words of the trapped woman however.
“You want to help the little guys, Spider-Man? Sooner or later everyone, including them, is going to be in danger if you refuse to listen.”
Peter swings away and leaves the interaction between them behind, along with the bitter echoes of her last words with him.
-
Peter drags himself through the stuffed corridors of busy students and hurried teachers - only having eyes on one particular person who just so happens to not be in the hallway. His eyes flash across the huddled groups only to make contact with Flash Thompson, his gaze enlightened with a spark of interest and a smirk begins to creep in on his face.
‘Just ignore him,’ Peter repeats in his head. He would only be giving Flash the satisfaction of knowing he had successfully annoyed him with only a look and a smile. No matter how much he and his goonies would push and prod Peter like he was their little toy.
Pettiness wasn’t exactly Peter’s specialty. It’s more for bullies who rile up people with less power than them, they hide behind the protection of knowing their victims can’t fight back but cowards at the idea of facing those that could. Flash’s idea of power stems from his capability of controlling their school with money and influence.
Flash’s face downturns as Peter passes him without much more than a look back. Of course, the bully can always pick up a fight within the packed hallways, but he knows the teachers were bound to punish him with students here. If not, they’ll gladly turn a blind eye at the sight of Peter and Flash if it meant not hearing another word from an angry parent.
A familiar voice dances through Peter’s ears, a happy light in the tone not so far away from him. He rushes over to the end of the hallway and picks up on Ned and Harry conversing with their heads down in front of their lockers. It was Harry who spotted him first.
“Peter,” Harry pushes bickering students out of his pathway and flings a heavy arm around his shoulders, “Have you heard the news? It’s almost as if my prayers had worked! And Father is most happy, only that he doesn’t show it, obviously.”
He shuffles under the weight of Harry’s arm, surprised that he had brought up his Father. Most of the time his relationship between his son is…indescribable, providing the necessities for Harry’s life however neglecting just one thing, love.
Peter sneaks a glance at Ned, he looked as if he was on the verge of tears with him gripping his phone tightly and scrolling through articles that Peter couldn’t decipher. The complete contrast of mood confused him to say the least.
“What’s the news?”, Peter asks hesitantly between the two. His mind flying past any events that had happened as of today, the only major incident that he could remember was the stock market pummelling drastically for whatever reason.
“What! How could you not know Peter!”, Ned’s wide eyes search him up and down for any sign of deception while all Harry does is shake his head with fake exasperation and pat Peter on his back, but a slap could better describe what it was.
To be honest, Peter had been ignoring the news channel and only skimming the daily papers once in a while. But it all boils down to one reason only, Spider-Man. The anonymous vigilante had been gaining traction all over the media and even spreading across the states with the one question hanging around them, who is really under that red and blue mask?
With slanders spewing left and right of the vigilante, it was better for Peter to just ignore the rants than to risk discouragement. The current best way to do that was to completely isolate the news even if it meant not using his phone unless someone had texted him or a notification of crime being reported from his custom-made website.
After all, hatred was a bitch.
“Um, hello-ohhh? Did you hear anything that I just said? Get your game face on Peter! This is serious.”, Ned snaps his fingers in his face while Harry snickers, pulling up his phone and shoving it into Peter’s face.
He had to blink repeatedly to get the haziness out of his tired eyes, the evidence of late night sleep still ingrained in his pupils. Peter had stayed up until 2AM researching keywords up on to his old, beaten up laptop half made up of scraps he found in dumpsters. If he really tried, he might still see the remains of the pixelated words, ‘Strategic Homeland Invasion, Enforcement and Logistic Division’ in front of him.
Peter squints at Ned’s phone trying to focus his attention on the half blurred article, the many cracks from the results of Ned’s clumsiness almost blocking the entire passage. Snatching the phone completely out of his friend’s grasp and scrunching his face up close to the screen, a familiar photo of a man stares back at him along with an extracted picture of a body hidden amidst the smoke and sand.
TONY STARK KIDNAPPED BY HIS OWN HANDS
The infamous Stark billionaire arrived in Afghanistan for an exhibition show of the latest missiles developed by Stark Industries, all seemed well until disaster struck the ground. Stark had moments before the first attack plummeted at the unsuspecting crowd. A speculated planned terrorist attack was at hand according to survivors and reporters of the scene, the orchestrated blow had used nothing but Stark’s very own creation.
What really shocked the crowd was that after the initial shock and fear had run down with military officials roaming the grounds, Stark had disappeared. Leaving just torn shreds of his suit and the signature glasses worn at every sighting of the man. The Stark missiles used against the very man. Search teams and investigators are already at hand to find the missing and assumed kidnapped billionaire, statements released from the industries indicating that Obadiah Stane will be the temporary replacement in the position of CEO.
“Tony is not just a partner, but a friend to me. We will do all that we can to find him and bring him justice, and I will do all that I can to ensure Stark Industries is safe in my hands.” -Stane in the press conference referring to the kidnapping.
He had to reread the text over and over again, cutting off at the speech given by whoever the hell Obadiah was and restarting back at the top to ensure that this was real. Tony Stark was kidnapped. Surely, this was a miracle sent by God himself! The heavens had finally answered his calls and prayers and responded with a blessing too good to even comprehend.
The Billionaire that made destructive war weapons, missiles, nukes, bombes were all used against him. Perhaps it was a wake up call to Stark, telling him that his weapons were all manufactured for one significant thing only, to kill, and now potentially it was the man that had started it all that was killed by his own doing. He can see why Harry was so happy now.
The irony of the missiles designed and developed by the man it was aiming at! Peter had never really been a fan of Stark’s entire business and career, his entire work revolves around the intention of killing and destructing. It only showed the truth held in the world considering how Stark’s a billionaire, the man could only be so successful if there was the necessary demand for the product.
“Well!? Thoughts for starters, maybe? You’ve been doing a whole lot of that lately. What is it called… oh yes, blanking out.”
Peter breaks the small smile forming around the corners of his mouth, he could sense Harry gazing intently at him, most likely catching the barely there smile. The both of them hated Stark with a core so deep it could thrum them, however the two’s loathing were for different reasons nonetheless.
Harry’s stems from the Oscorp pride, the businesses were famous for their notorious rivalry for the latest modern technology, both major global brands dominating the new world of industries. Their unspoken history with each other made Harry bitter about the thought of Stark, it would be a huge benefit for Oscorp if he was out of the picture. Even with the blind hatred for the man, there was no denying Stark was a genius.
However, Peter’s stems from the complete inhumanity Stark possesses in himself. There was no question that he knew what his weapons would cause and the effect he had on it, one call to his industry and all the pain and suffering he’d created would cease to a stop. It was only that the man didn’t care. He knows that people died at his hands, it just simply means that he has no problem with the blood splattered because of him. Stark doesn’t care.
“Um, that’s just horrible, Ned. How could Tony Stark of all people be kidnapped!? I am just petrified.”
“This is no joke! I don’t know why you and Harry have this little relationship against me for not hating him, that dude’s brain is huge! You could practically see it bulging out his head if you squinted enough.”
Harry laughed at that, “Yeah, yeah. We all love to talk about Tony Stark’s massive brain, don’t we? You see, Ned, the only problem with his head is that it hasn’t exploded in on itself yet. That’s the real flaw.”, it was Peter’s turn to laugh now.
“Ugh, Peter, you’re supposed to at least agree with me somewhat with all this! I can’t even begin to approach MJ before she starts yammering about climate change or just stabbing me. It’s always one or the other with her. You can never expect which one though considering her happy face looks like her everyday face, and her everyday face looks like an annoyed face.”
A dinging of metal on metal rock on its surfaces. The bell rings signifying the end of lunch, the once still students secured with their groups huddling around different directions and conversation dies down to just hurried goodbyes. Shoot! Peter forgot to ask Ned about the question nagging at the back of his mind for hours at end.
Just as Ned was stuffing his phone into his jean’s pockets and pulling the straps of his backpack onto his shoulders ready to go to his class, Peter held him still while simultaneously waving Harry off. Peter just had to trust Ned’s obliviousness and hope for no questions asked from his best friend.
“Hey, wait. I was meaning to ask you a question but y’know, time’s our worst enemy and whatever . I’ll text you after school about it, yeah?”
“Oh yeah, of course! Just no bullshit about the new Star Wars Lego set, I will start beating you if you start to mention anything about the Death Star around me. I’m not joking when I say I’ll actually buy the set and go into debt if I hear one more word about it.”
-
Peter:
Hey, hope you remember about the thing I was gonna ask you. And don’t worry, no mentions of Legos will B in this.
Ned:
If this is about the history homework, bribery with chocolate will work according to an anonymous source.
Peter:
Wonder where I’ve heard that one from before. I was just hoping you could look up anything about this agency thing called ‘Strategic Homeland Invasion, Enforcement and Logistics Division’, it’s a handful. I’ll give chocolates if you don’t ask questions.
Ned:
Bring the chocolates tmr. I’ll see what I can do.
Notes:
Kind of a longer chapter! Things are escalating and Peter can’t seem to get himself out of the sticky situation. I wanted to include Harry and Ned more frequently because I’ve been writing more about Spider-Man than Peter himself, and I didn’t knew how to incorporate MJ into this chapter (sorry) but she will be appearing more often aswell!
Thanks for reading and for all the lovely comments!!
Chapter Text
Peter approaches to a stop to perch on a street lamp, inspecting the streets before him for any crime sightings. The best he had as of today was helping an old lady cross the road at the slowest speed he could possibly go, he might’ve even heard a crack or two from her back while blocking the heavy traffic.
Peaceful was what he would call it. For the past few weeks, things were calm. Criminals and thugs were slowly decreasing on his watch, even on the rarest days where a robbery or a break in had been stopped at a maximum of 30 minutes. Police viewed him as irritating more than provocative, when Peter had to explain an assault, they hadn’t bothered to arrest him on the spot.
And even the red haired lady had backed off over the course of the days, whether she had given up or decided he was a lost cause for her super team up collab, he wasn’t sure. Something tells him it was actually a secret third thing she had up her sleeves and that won’t be the last of her. To drop the bomb of a shadow government organisation to a near stranger just to then give up was strange. It felt too easy somehow.
After their first meeting, there was no doubt she had continued to tail after Peter again. Maybe it was to convince him to listen to more of her agenda or to terrify him with those unknown threats so that he had to listen - only started backing off when he had shown no signs of cooperation. How much of that was fictional or the reality he doesn’t know. Peter doesn’t know many things, so that is where Ned comes in.
Turns out the chocolates weren’t enough to avoid the inevitable questions bound to come, asking him to search up a secret group hidden away from most of society were going to raise questions one way or another. So of course he had to also get him the new Star Wars Lego set out of the kindness of his wallet. And also with a little bit of Harry’s help.
Turns out the organisation wasn’t just a bunch of crap but dated back all the way to World War II, partaking in the rise of Captain America and the falling of Hydra following the infamous Red Skull. Younger him would’ve totally freaked out knowing an organisation helping in the creation of the Super Serum had reached out to him, now he just couldn’t be more annoyed.
Spider-Man worked alone, to join something more was to give himself up for control. A team meant cooperation, a willingness to restrict yourself upon the help from others, to let a leader -a captain- stop yourself for a role of partnership. The idea was nice, but the whole point of a secret identity was to keep this other life to himself, to reduce the risk of hurting his loved ones along the way.
Peter as Spider-Man meant the freedom to use his powers to help. A team would mean the restriction of his will. Looking down at the streets in front of him meant that he chose to do this, he puts on a mask and suit every night because he wants to. Not for a team assigned to save the world, just Peter and his inability to not help others even if it costs him his life.
Peter should probably retire for the day. He would just be wasting his energy on scouting the streets for non-existing crime when instead he could be catching up on some homework he had been falling behind on. Wiggling his ears to catch any laboured shouts or distraught screams signifying help just in case, Peter was about to stretch his legs up to leave the area when his senses erupted.
He felt a pair of eyes intently staring at his back, a gaze creeping closer and closer. Someone was behind him and he had only just found out. His limbs went immobile and his body struck frozen on the street lamp, Peter still had time to swing away, to dodge whoever was coming up behind him. But he doesn’t.
He waits until he feels that someone relaxes ever so slightly, lets them think that Peter hasn’t caught on yet, lets them believe they are one step ahead. The person stops and Peter spins a web on to his target. He turns faster than the man could breathe in a gasp of shock, the webs connecting on to a pair of hands before the man could even comprehend Peter had moved.
The man looked too amused for someone who had just been incapacitated of his hands. He was dressed in a sleek black trench coat reaching down to his boots, his hands tied in front of him without even the slightest twitch of uncomfortableness. If Peter doesn’t know any better, he would say he was even unbothered.
The man raised an eyebrow, Peter’s line of vision travels downwards from his brow to the eye patch stuck innocently on to his left eye. The chances of a modern day pirate appearing not at sea, but at a random roof in Queens was low, however not impossible. Peter wonders what happened to it, would it be insensitive if he asked?
A clearing of a throat, “So, Spider-Man, we finally meet at last.”
Peter adjusts his grip on the lamp so it doesn’t bend the metal completely into a wire; something about him was off. His spider senses don’t ring with urgency, but with curiosity, which was a first. “Do I know you?”
He flexes his fingers around the tight hold of Peter’s webs. His composure looked all but calm, if it wasn’t for the slight squirming of his wrists, “ I see that Natasha has failed to mention me to you, well, you haven’t exactly given her the choice either. Nick Fury, also the director of Strategic Homeland-“
“Yeah, you really need to come up with a shortened name for that, maybe an anagram could help.”
Fury. Where had he heard that name before… Fury, Fury, Fury… Ah, of course! The little incident on the rooftop with the woman talking about the same organisation as the man is now. Peter recalls back a hazy memory and some muffled sounds of a barely distinguishable mutter of the same name, coming from the red-headed woman, who must be Natasha.
The man, Fury, pulsates his finger into a tight fist. Score. “I see she also wasn’t wrong about you being an annoying prick as well. And are the webs really necessary? No one’s here to hurt anyone, just here to talk.”
“Yes, to answer your question, the webs are that necessary. In fact, they’re almost crucial during this fuel that we have. And didn’t I tell your friend to leave me alone? Just as you are here to talk, I’m here to protect people. So how about you never bother me again with your spies, or agents, or whatever, and I can just go back to doing my job!”
“See, Spider-Man? That’s exactly why I’m here. When you gained traction in the media, we started getting concerned with what your job actually is. You’re a smart kid, but you don’t sound a day over 10, and it’s no secret that you have a power of some kind. Maybe a gene or just a boost you created yourself, but we’re starting to worry what your effect is with the public.”
“Oh, yeah, ‘cuz that’s what your operation is, isn’t it? To protect the world from extraterrestrial or supernatural forces? Don’t know if you can tell but I’m just a guy in spandex trying to make a difference, I’m not the so-called threat you guys are after.”
Peter couldn't deal with this tonight, he had just begun to push the first interaction with this organisation to the side of his focuses, instead he had to put something as mundane as homework first. Peter and Spider-Man were two different people, two different lives, and he happened to not want his first life to collapse just because of his second’s priorities. Separating his two identities were crucial in protecting who he loves.
Fury carries on before Peter can even cross the idea of leaving, “It’s more than that Spider-Man. Natasha had already told you this before and I’m not afraid to say it again, the universe is forever expanding and it won’t wait for us to catch up, things are going to come for us and we won’t be ready unless we work together.
“You might not be a teamwork guy, but if you sure as hell want to protect the citizens of your neighbourhood, trust me when I say you can’t save everyone carrying on alone.”, and Peter has nothing to say to that. For once, he is silent.
“Your powers, I’ve seen them in use before. You stop buses and cars as if they’re nothing but feathers, so the basic answer to what your job is? Is to use your abilities to protect people. But we’ve also seen others who are similar to you before, they lash out, they lose control of their strength, they end up hurting the people they love the most. Without proper training, the same could happen to you. You might not want to be, but you are dangerous, Spider-Man.”
Peter bunches his fists together. No, he’s wrong. He wouldn’t hurt anyone if he wasn't absolutely forced to, he had learnt to control his powers, he had learnt to conjure up his strength and courage when he needed it most. And he won’t let what happened once happen again. His mistake with Uncle Ben will cease to exist anymore when Peter has learnt to control.
Then a jolt of a memory comes running back to him. A memory where he had buried inside his head without the chance of stumbling upon it. A death he had let slip through his fingers even after Ben. Lilly. Fury had failed to mention that without the ‘proper training’, his powers can also fail to save someone.
But wouldn’t that also fall into the category of hurting, killing someone? Would Peter failing to save a life mean that he had then killed one? ‘Without proper training, the same could happen to you.’ It already has happened though, and Peter had let it.
“We want to help you, Spider-Man. We want to help you be the person we need to win the battles we can’t. So all I’m asking is for you to trust me.”
Peter glances up to his stone cold face. Not a single strand of emotion leaks out of his exterior, throughout his speech he had kept a cool demeanour without even straining. He realises that Fury was trained for this, for the confrontations, to convince.
“I’ve learnt not to trust so blindly a long time ago, Fury. Whatever you want me to do for you can’t be done over a night and one talk.”
“Then let me convince you. Give me a chance to explain to you what we see, to let you see sense into the world.”
Fury moves his bundled hands together over to a pocket hidden within his trench coat, Peter doesn’t tense but he watches intently for any ulterior movement, any silent lies laced with malice before him. The man reaches into the pocket and returns with a small black card engrained with a set of numbers and a seemingly white logo.
He presents the card to him with a slight raise of his hands and subtlety nods at the webs still tied around them. Peter doesn’t move in his place but instead flicks his wrists in one swift motion and launches another web towards Fury to capture the card, catapulting them into Peter’s grasp.
Fury enclosed his hands where the empty space of a missing card was at. Peter glances down on to the sleek credit card like texture with the same set of labelled numbers and the eagle staring back at him. He traces delicately over the prints with his thumb.
“The webbing lasts for about an hour,” he mutters, and with that Peter swings off into the air with the card held tightly against the grip of his hand.
-
Peter likes to say he has everything under control. He currently stands in front of Mr Delmar’s shop ordering his usual pickle sandwich (squished flat) with an extra milkshake just to treat himself, and also maybe to give him a boost of energy for what he’s about to do. And what is he about to do, you may ask?
He’s going to call the number on the card.
The card that Fury had given to Peter a few days ago, however the times seem to fly past with his mind always on somewhere else, replaying the night with Fury repeatedly as just a dull noise. That thrum of thrill travelling up his body knowing that he had enraptured the attention of the organisation, annoying, yes, but exciting nonetheless.
In all truthfulness, Peter had been a bit skeptical of the man’s true intentions and agenda. A buzz running up his fingers whenever he made contact with the card, his senses giving caution to Peter about the risks of calling the number. There was no turning back once he hit the digits on to his phone pad and opened the way up to this league.
A frightened 14 year old teenager putting on a crappy put together costume to use his powers for good, the scared child stepping out the window with just his bravery and ambition to face criminals and transgressors wasn’t supposed to catch the attention of the bigger leagues. The most Peter has ever done was stop a children trafficking warehouse, and the police had done most of it at the end anyway.
Peter fought daily criminals doing basic muggings and gangs that deal drugs. Whatever Fury wants with him, he doesn’t have what he needs. A vigilante that swings through buildings and skyscrapers as if he was a made up fictional character can’t do what the government orders him to.
Which is why a freshly 15 year old calling an agency dating back to Captain America would be silly.
So that’s exactly what Peter’s going to do.
He glances up to the small television hanging down for waiting customers in the Deli, a news broadcast currently playing on the slightly cracked screen. The reporter droned on about mindless things such as the weather, looking bored and tiredly at the script in front of her. A change of a channel brought the screen to an official looking ground with chairs and cameras dangling down at every corner.
Peter recognises what this recording is the second it comes on. Anyone could, it’s been playing on every screen possible trying to lead its way into people’s heads and ingrain it into their minds. The day Tony Stark announced he was Iron Man with a giant ‘fuck you’ practically labelled on the big reveal.
Honestly, Peter was thoroughly impressed with the metal suit when it had attracted the attention of the media. Not so much after it was revealed that Stark’s the one that was behind the mask. However, Peter had been surprised when Stark Industries dropped the big bomb of stopping the production of weapons. You know, the one thing keeping the business alive.
It was still unfortunate that he had come out alive after two months in captivity. Who knows what the man would do with his new found technology, create more efficient bombs and missiles maybe. Considering how his whole gig is fuelling the ongoing wars with his products, and how it keeps his business afloat by destroying lives in the process.
Peter rushes over to Mr Delmar and thanks him for the meal, the hush of wind blowing into his naked face was the reminder to put his suit on for tonight. He can’t procrastinate the eventual meet up any longer; sipping on the milkshake, Peter pulls out a burner phone he had previously bought with the last of his pocket money.
Fury tracking his phone number back to Peter Parker was a big no no, they might know more than what they let on about him but he knows they certainly don’t know about his identity. Which he plans to keep it that way, no use of them having blackmail on him for any future ideas they might have with Peter.
Punching the digits into the cell without the need of the card was something Peter wasn’t proud of, the obsessive staring into the card over the days had practically made him memorise the number off my heart. A reminder of the life Peter had gotten himself into. Putting the last number in, Peter presses call.
A ring, then two, and the line connects.
“…Spider-Man. I’m guessing this is you taking up my offer?”
“The empty Mexican restaurant with the glowing sign near where we met. You’ll know it when you see it,” Peter presses the end call button before a response could be stirred. Peter hunches that Fury will come without much convincing.
Changing into his suit which was stuffed into his backpack, and connecting the bag behind the dumpster in the alleyway via web shooters, Peter slips into the restaurant with an announcement of a small ding from a bell. He chooses a discreet dark corner near the back with two sets of booths facing each other and then waits patiently.
It doesn’t take long for Fury to show up, an approximate of 7 minutes and 34 seconds. And yes, Peter had been counting to stall the silence in his mind while waiting for the man to eventually appear. He wonders if Fury was waiting in the area for him to arrive so fast, maybe he knew that Peter would end up calling the number.
Fury had his head down whilst walking up to him, he was the only one in the restaurant and the red and blue suit does draw quite the attention of the eye, “Spider-Man.”
“Fury.”
“I will say I’m surprised that you had taken so little time accepting my proposal, seeing as you’re seemingly the stubborn type,” the man slides into the booth opposite him and not so subtlety smirks in his direction, eyes travelling downwards where Spider-Man was twirling a straw around the milkshake cup.
“Believe it or not, Fury, I do take the safety of my people over my pride. You say they’ll end up in danger, and I want to hear more about it,” he pulls up his mask just enough to stick the straw into his chapped lips and suck obnoxiously loud to fill the silence of the room. Peter likes to make a point.
Fury crinkled the pair of leather gloves curved neatly around his fingers along with an eye twitch that was too obvious for it to not be for Peter to catch, “Not only do you sound 11 years old but you act like one as well.”
“Hey, if I remember correctly, I was 10 just a few days before. I’ll consider this a win, FYI.”
“Any chance you’ll tell me how old you are? I was joking about your age for the most part, but you’re really only making me more curious.”
Peter stops his loud sucking at the strawberry milkshake, almost all of it was already gone but of course he didn’t have to tell Fury that. He glances up at the man with a silent stare, at least he had tried asking, and Peter decided that Fury was smart enough to not fall for the ‘I’m 33 and happily married with a wife and kids’ act.
The man sighs prominently, “Worth trying, I suppose,” he glares at Peter while doing something with his mouth, like he was deciding how to approach this properly. He leans forwards and catches Peter’s eye, staring into his lenses and somehow making him feel as if he wasn’t wearing a mask at all.
Fury begins, “Once, before you decided to show up running around with a onesie and a ski mask and before you had decided to worm yourself into my plans, there was an idea,” Peter had to refrain from pointing out that he had eventually made a better suit and he actually never wanted to be incorporated with him and his group anyway.
“There was an idea to see if we can group together a band of extraordinary individuals, an initiative, if you will, to see if they can become something more. To join together to fight the battles that we can’t, a safe place where we can rely on them when we need to.”
Peter paused on fiddling with the now soggy straw in the empty milkshake cup and stared at Fury straight in the eye, “So what you’re saying is, you want me to join a currently non existent superhero team to fight off these, also very non existent, threats?
“…those are the basics.”
“Really letting me down here, Nick.”
Fury glared at him with contempt , looking as if strangling Peter could be his Birthday present, although he wasn’t sure if he would need his Birthday to do that anyway, “If you would let me finish talking without you interrupting every few seconds, life would be a whole lot easier right now. And when have we gone on a first name basis in this conversation?”
Peter raises his arms and hands up innocently, giving a little surrender at his fury, no pun intended. Of course, not without sipping on the empty cup one last time before finally mustering up his fakest smile at Fury, with all teeth and the corners of his mouth stretching to the side of his face.
Fury only glares at him more, “S.H.I.E.L.D is a big agency, we hide knowledge from the public which in this case is you-“
“Woah, hang on. You actually took my advice on shortening the name? Because I feel honoured, genuinely. Do I have a special statue in your headquarters for that kind act of-“
Peter peeks at Fury under his mask and snorts at him, the eyes really do express it all. Or in this case, the eye really does express it all. He was starting to get used to what really riles the man up, and not only was this fun but was a new way to annoy Fury instead of just playing this game of cat and mouse.
“What I was saying before you so kindly interrupted me, again, was that there are a lot of things that you don’t know, Spider-Man. What do you think will happen if we just drop the news that something extraterrestrial is coming for our very underdeveloped world? They’ll panic. And panic leads to violence, and violence leads to weakness.
“Our world just simply isn’t ready for what’s coming, so we hide it until we have someone or something that can protect us from the inevitable, which brings us back to the initiative.”
“You’re being really cryptic here, Fury. You use your knowledge to hold against me knowing that I’ll do whatever it takes to protect the people, even if it means joining your hypothetical team of supers. But here’s the thing, I don’t just throw myself head first without accessing the situation, the only reason I’ve called you was for an explanation, not for dodging questions or half-answers.”
Peter points his cup at Fury, giving him a deadpan glare behind his lenses. He was playing a dangerous game here, Fury might be dodging proper explanations but Peter’s also not exactly telling the truth. Even if he does get the answers that he’s here for, there was no way Peter would be joining a team. Maybe from the sidelines cleaning up the messes, sure, but a team would distract him from what Spider-Man actually is.
The friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man where his sole goal was to protect the little guys, not to run off defeating the big bad and evil, Fury can leave that to the future initiative. He’s seen too many superhero movies to know that, yes, while the good guys have seemingly saved the day, the civilians were all left with the destruction they had cost while doing so.
Peter was far from a superhero and he would never label himself as one, the comic stripes stuffed in the drawers beside his bed were a dream that had long gone. The super-heroes that save the day without noticing they had left the people to clean up the scraps. Spider-Man doesn’t want to be like them, he doesn’t want the fame, the frivolous attention and the headlines that come along with it.
Spider-Man does what it takes to protect the people, his people, but joining a big team certainly doesn’t help that. Not how Peter does it anyway.
“You want answers? Fine, I’ll give you answers. But how can I know that after I reveal all the secrets huddled up from years of hiding underneath the public eye, you’ll just decline my ideas of an initiative? How do I know I can trust you?”
“That’s the beauty of it, Fury, you can’t. Just like how I can’t trust you to tell the truth or to say everything about anything, we both don’t like each other but we have nothing to gain from lying. I can’t promise that I’ll exactly take up your offer, but being left in the dark won’t up the chances either.”
Fury taps his fingers on the hard iron table rusted over with age, the man accesses Peter with a scrutiny that could scare a billion. After a long while of just the sound of leather hitting metal and a nearby fan droning with a continuous buzz, Fury cracks a smile.
“You almost had me there, Spider-Man. Y’know you could make a decent spy with the proper training and a zip to shut your mouth up, but I’m sure you know I was also trained for this. Catching manipulated lies is part of my job, and you practically laid it on the table.”
Peter doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, he refuses to break their eye contact and only purses his lips, “Fine, you caught me. But this doesn’t mean that I’m any less interested in your secrets then you’re any less interested in me.”
Fury, while annoyed, doesn’t break their eye contact either. Like a little competition to see who can last the longest, the only problem is that Peter can hide behind his lenses and mask, meaning that Fury, the super lie detector that he is, doesn’t know if Peter looks away or not. But even though he has the obvious advantage, Peter wasn’t a little cheat.
Fury considers it, “So you’re saying that we both take into account each other's offers? Seeing that we’re obviously not going to give up so easily, might as well get it out instead of chasing the other for months on end.”
“Well, me joining the league of losers is still very much a no go, but we can do something together if there are some slight tweaks being made.”
“Which are..?”
“The obvious one is that you stop your agents hunting me down while I’m out patrolling, we can make an arrangement if it’s so important, but with someone on my tail while I’m doing my job wont get me on your good side. Secondly, a team will forever be off, but you were right about me doing whatever it takes to protect the civilians. So yes, if something big is on its way, I’ll be there. Not because you told me to, but because it’s what I do.”
“So you’ll be there on the sidelines on your own terms then? I can trust that you’ll show up to fight what we can’t not because there was a need to but because you feel it’s your responsibility to?”
Responsibility. Something that Peter had taken up on the moment his powers had given him the opportunity to do nothing or to do everything, because his powers burdened him with the gift to save or to destroy lives. And somehow Fury was the one that knew responsibility was the one thing keeping him going.
In the silence between the two of them, it was clear that the answer was yes. That without the need of an agreement or a promise, Peter would show up no matter what. Fury seems to also have understood what the silence implied.
“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, why don’t you tell me more about the initiative,” It wasn’t phrased as a question but as a statement, Peter had given his end of the deal, now it was Fury’s turn.
“Well so far we have three candidates that have the potential to step up and become a team, and S.H.I.E.L.D has been searching for another that’s been on the list for many years, he’s just a bit preoccupied right now. And excluding you since you’re out of the picture, only two are needed to complete the project.”
“Mind telling me who the three candidates are?”
“Well first we have a specially trained agent who’s particularly skilled in archery, amongst all of our assets, he’s the best choice for what we have in mind. Then there’s Natasha, who you’ve met already. I’m sure she doesn’t need much explaining. And finally, there’s Iron Man.”
Peter practically chokes on nothing while still sucking on the straw, he has been listening attentively to all the names which doesn’t seem very promising so far. Two ‘trained’ agents from the government weren't going to fare well against the big threats Fury has been on about but, hell, what would he know? However, what really shocked him was the name of Tony Stark’s not so secret alias.
Peter recovers from the exaggerated coughing he had put an act of and looks up to Fury’s unamused face very slowly, “Iron Man is really the best you can do? Really? Out of the billions of people you chose Tony stark? The self-righteous multi billionaire that kills people for a living is going to protect us from being killed ourselves?”
“You might not see the potential but you’re blinded by your rage, Stark has chosen to cut the creation of his weapons on his own decision and is now focusing on the produce of clean energy-"
“Oh yes, because that’s suddenly of a high moral value, not killing people! When Stark stops the multiple years of weapon production and mass killings, he becomes a good guy. Or maybe even a superhero considering that he’s now going around parading his new brand of technology!”
“Stark’s experienced first hand of what his weapons can do when put into the wrong hands, he’s realised that and is actively trying to improve himself. Plus, I’ve got someone monitoring and accessing his mental state now that he revealed himself as Iron Man. Stark’s compulsive and uncontrollable, the potential risk of his new tech is worrying to us.”
“Let me guess, you sent someone to tail after him just like you did to me because you thought I was unstable? Because I wasn’t following your little rules? The likes of Stark not doing what he wants and actually listening to you are as likely as me joining your team.”
“Yes, believe me when I say we’ve been over your thoughts on the initiative. You’re one guy, Spider-Man, and if you think a whole organisation can’t do what it takes to keep Stark under control, then happily consider yourself wrong.”
Peter sits back and crosses his arms over himself, if Fury believes that he can keep Stark under control then be my guest, keep trying. Try to stop the billionaire from doing what he does best, destroying everything in his path. For one, he wasn’t going to stop him, “Mm. Anyway, I’m curious-“
“Heard that killed the cat.”
“Luckily for me, cats happen to eat spiders. As I was saying - I wanted to know who the fourth lucky candidate for your club is, the one who you’ve been trying to find apparently?”
“C’mon, Spider-Man. Use your brain, it’s not exactly a hard thing to figure out, and you’re supposed to be smart.”
“Your words, not mine.”
Fury only raises an eyebrow and continues to tap his leathered fingers on the table, Peter racks his brain for any hints the man could’ve dropped during the conversation. Any clue that leads to this mystery man that had the organisation searching for him for years. Someone who’s preoccupied, in which Fury had said in a slightly sarcastic tone.
And well, as the man said, it’s not exactly a hard thing to figure out, “You’re searching for Captain America,” guessing with the slightest smirk creeping its way onto Fury’s mouth, Peter can only assume that he had hit the jackpot.
“Yeah, see, the only problem with that absolutely brilliant idea of yours is that Captain America’s been dead for over 60 years now. Shame.”
“That’s what everyone thinks but we’re still searching for his body, not because we think he’s alive however much we wish, but because we want to preserve what’s left of his body. If his body is still intact, not only can we study the serum but with the right technology, transfuse it too.”
Peter sits back and thinks it over, the idea could theoretically work, but the execution of it all would be near impossible. Finding Captain America who’s been assumed dead after the fatal crash in the Arctic would be more likely to happen in a fever dream than in reality.
A simple glance at Fury told him that their conversation was coming to an end. Silence reigned over them as the night creeps in, he could see out the entrance door that the once hazy blue sky had fallen to a dark ombre from a black to a deep purple.
He stretches his back with a loud crack, turning and twisting his limbs with enough exaggeration to annoy the man who sat in front of him for almost an hour. Surprisingly, tonight wasn’t as bad as Peter had thought it to be, they might have not agreed on everything, no, but Peter could confidently describe Fury as more of an acquaintance instead of a stalker.
Peter stands up while grabbing his empty milkshake cup, deciding to call the night to an end, “I believe I can trust that you’ll call off your agents from my back after this lovely date of ours?”
Fury then stands up from his spot on the booth and shoved his hands into a pocket with the same trench coat he wore the day they first met, rolling his eyes at Peter’s antics and nodding ever so slightly at his direction, “And I can believe that when the right time comes, you’ll be accepting my calls more often than not?”
“I didn’t know you wanted to do this again! Aw, Fury, I’m flattered.”
Fury walks off to the entrance door leaving a laughing Peter behind, “All you had to say was yes, Spider-Man. And I hope that you won’t be deleting my number off your phone because trust me when I say you’ll be wanting to know more of what’s about to come for us.”
“And now we’re back to square 1 again, talking about the threats that no one knows about. Cryptic as always, Fury, and never change that because that’s what I love about you!”
Notes:
So Peter meets Fury…
Thank you everyone for 200 kudos OMG Im actually shocked and so grateful for the love and comments!!!
Chapter Text
Peter feels a buzz in his pocket while ticking his pen on a wooden table. He’s really facing this test, he thinks, well of course, not to incorporate how he had already learnt this information back in 7th grade. He glances at the teacher who, might be strict, is currently mindlessly scrolling on his phone. Perfect.
Another buzz grows in his jeans pocket and he feels MJ discreetly glaring back at him, for someone who tends to not listen to Ned’s and Peter’s ramblings or answer any of Harry’s questions, she has surprisingly good hearing. Or maybe she just chooses what she listens to or not, sometimes Peter wishes he can do that, to turn off his enhanced hearing in the middle of the night where kids scream and dogs bark.
Peter senses an incoming phone call if he doesn’t answer the piles of texts he’s been purposely ignoring, which would then lead to his phone getting taken away, which would mean this particular someone who Peter feels he knows might become a bit of a sour sausage. And by sour he means a completely irrational and demanding sausage.
Pulling out his burner phone and using his spider senses to know if Mr Dell is coming, he flicks up to the home page and clicks on the growing number of messages. And there it is, the name that Peter knew would come up seeing as he’s currently the only number on his contacts so far, Nick Fury. There couldn’t be a better time for this, sitting in a silent classroom texting the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
He doesn’t bother reading the texts which happen to be blocks of paragraphs but types in a condescending ‘shut up’ before turning the device off and shoving it into the deepest depths of his pocket. That’ll do, it ought to let Fury know that he was trying to send a secret signal indicating Peter was busy. After all, Peter can’t just type a, ‘oh sorry, I’m trying to finish my high school paper, call you later?’.
For all he knows, Fury could think he’s an unemployed 40 year old homeless man who spends his free time walking old people across the street and swings around buildings with an occasional burrito stuffed in his mouth. The chances of him suspecting Spider-Man’s a broke 15 year old teenager putting his life on the line is probably near zero, and he would not like to increase those statistics.
With his mind on what Fury could possibly want that includes about 10 chunks of paragraphs, the test seemed as boring and bland compared to what the trench coat man had in mind. Waiting for the last few minutes of the lesson to be finished, Peter searched the classroom for something to entertain him whilst the impending doom of time haunts him as if he doesn’t already have enough on his hands.
3 months after their conversation about the initiative and with only one promised phone call back, Peter had to admit Fury could be dry and secretive but he had enjoyed their short lived time together. So he could say he was a bit disappointed on the one phone call that had lasted not even a five minutes.
It was about their progress on the Tony Stark business, their analysis had not been proven great and had left Fury no choice but to change his spot in his possible involvement to just a mere consultant. Peter would hate to say, ‘I told you so’, but he was, of course, right on the choice of Stark. Then Fury brought up Dr. Banner.
The renowned scientist specialised in his expertise in nuclear physics and gamma radiation had surprisingly, had a bit of an accident. Peter likes to say the doctor was an idol for him, someone that he had looked up to and awed at by his discoveries and novels; his work in the field of physics was the turning point of Peter’s own fascination in science. But he then had to dabble in recreating the super soldier serum and become…well.
Throughout history, you had to learn from past mistakes, such as the uncontrollable lust over the serum making Captain America. With each try from scientists and mad men who just couldn’t keep their hands off the taste of power, the after effects were not very pretty, becoming more mutated and deformed as the years went. The most infamous one was Red Skull turning into a severe disfigurement after injecting himself with an unstable prototype.
Now Dr. Banner just had to participate in those chained events and become as Fury said, ‘just think of Solomon Grundy and the colour army green’. Peter had been confused after the line ended and even more on his way back from a night of patrolling as to why the DC zombie had to do with Dr. banner and his exposure of gamma, after watching the news it was safe to say Fury had gotten it spot on.
Peter had practically run out of the classroom the second the bell rang, only bothering to pick up his deformation of a backpack and running off to the nearest bathroom, not bothering to answer MJ’s shouts after him. Turning back on his burner phone was a piece of work, the cheapest he could find was also the oldest there was, the loading screen lasts about as long as May takes in the shower - which was long.
When the screen turns on to a dim glow, the phone practically gets bombarded with texts all from Fury which concludes a whole lot of curses and threats. Hesitantly opening the messages, Peter quickly scans through the texts looking for keywords like, ‘the world is ending’, ‘Tony Stark just launched a nuke’, ‘I know who you are’, ‘Star Wars is trash’, stuff like that.
He reached a single box where it was the only message without a block of paragraph filling up the whole screen, ‘let’s catch up, same restaurant. I’ll be waiting,’ which was not creepy at all. There were two options here, one: continue his very important studies where he had already learnt and memorised years beforehand or, two: meet up with Fury and get more secrets he’s been hiding.
Decisions, decisions.
In under a minute, Peter had already abandoned his backpack hidden behind a loose sink and threw on his Spider-Man suit which was buried underneath the books and equipment inside his bag. Swinging through the buildings and streets had caught the attention of a few passing people, it was unusual for the vigilante to appear at day when he had taken his spot roaming the city at night.
The restaurant was a few blocks away from Midtown, not hesitating to stop for a sneaky hotdog as he had skipped the rest of his school day which happens to include lunch. A high-five from the stand owner and one hotdog more, Peter skipped the rest of the way to the restaurant and announced his entry with a loud ding from the bell above the door.
What? You can’t blame him for being a bit giddy not being able to annoy Fury for so long.
The man, as always, has on his signature trench coat and eye patch, he still doesn’t know if asking how that happened would be offensive or not. Doesn’t stop him from wondering about what could’ve happened, maybe a cat scratched him in the eye and had resulted in him being blind in one side along with a nasty scar. The possibilities are endless.
“There’s my favourite person in the whole world! It’s been so long since I’ve seen your bitter face and sad frown,” Peter exclaims as he sits down on the booth placed at the back of the restaurant. The same table they were at from all those months back bickering and arguing with the milkshake. Shoot, it would’ve really been annoying if he had gotten another milkshake!
“Don’t drag it, Spider-Man. The only reason I’ve decided we should meet up instead of the phone is because this is important and it’s something I think you’d like to know,” Fury grimaces as Peter shoves the last remaining bite of the hotdog into his mouth, tapping the same repetitive rhythm onto the metal table.
Peter finishes chewing on the bread mixed with the largest ratio of ketchup to mustard he’s ever seen before answering back, “I wish I had even a remote hint to what this important thing is, but unfortunately a lot’s been happening as you’ll know. Like the giant green monster’s little rendezvous with the military and is now currently nowhere to be seen. That’s not worrying at all!”
“S.H.I.E.L.D’s been working on the Hulk’s location ever since he went into hiding. Dr. Banner’s unstable. He’s been causing destruction and havoc everywhere he goes and we assume that it gets triggered by a high heart rate or intense emotions. General Ross has a vendetta against him, his involvement with us has gotten a bit rocky, we don’t want to capture the hulk but monitor him instead.”
“Ross is stupid for thinking he can control a beast that basically screams uncontrollably. I might be a bit biased but Dr. Banner wouldn’t want people to get hurt. Using him for military purposes would never work and would only anger him more, making Banner go no-contact again, then that results in a loophole of chasing, turning, and hiding.
“This goes for you as well, you know. I don’t know what your thing is with monitoring people but take it from someone who’s experienced it first hand, it gets pretty annoying quite fast. And doing that to the Hulk who has a very big temper and above normal anger issues won’t clash together very well.”
The key to persuasion is to act as if you know what you’re saying. Which Peter does. But he’s basically announcing this out of his buttocks; going with what Fury said about the Hulk being triggered from intense emotions and him turning more often than not, he had to guess and say Banner had quite the temper. He likes to keep the city under wraps without a certain green best wrecking down every building known to man, thank you very much.
And he has empathy for Dr. Banner, or the Hulk (whether the Hulk was an alter ego or the other half’s consciousness is still present or not, Peter doesn’t know, but he sure would love to) getting ‘monitored’ on, however the better word would really be spied upon. Dr. Banner’s a smart man, creating a cure alone without anyone to anger him would be arguably more effective than being surrounded by a big agency.
“You talk a lot for someone who has no idea what’s going on, S.H.I.E.L.D doesn’t want to control him like Ross does but to understand the power Hulk possesses and to prevent accidents like these from occurring if they fall into the wrong hands.“
“And how exactly would you understand the Hulk and study him like he’s an experiment? From far away where you can’t even touch him? Or from up close where you can harm him? I smell a bit of hypocrisy and foul play around here.”
Fury presses his lips into a thin line, “We’re tracking him to keep him on our tabs, he’s not an experiment but he’s dangerous. It’s better for all of us to know where Banner is at all times because Hulk can come out at any second. Besides, a gamma exposure that big has low chances of reversing the damage at all, undoing Hulk is near impossible but then we can at least help him keep it detained.”
Peter thinks it over in his head. Yes, it’s fairly reasonable to know Banner’s whereabouts in case Hulk ever decides to come out and play, but angering him by tracking his location would only result in catastrophe more than a collected doctor willing to accept help from an agency. But what can Peter do about it, Fury not capturing the Hulk is already as good as he can get.
Speaking of monitoring people, “So, Tony Stark. I’m guessing your little investigation plan isn’t going very well, since he’s been more reckless and impulsive. And the man that basically copied Stark’s whole tech? Thought he said that no one would be able to do that for years. Wait, who was it that told you Tony Stark wasn’t a good choice for your initiative? Oh, yeah, me.”
“Yeah, yeah, no need to brag how much of a know-it-all you are. And Stark still isn’t officially off the list yet, don’t get your hopes up. Natasha, who’s monitoring him, still sees potential in Iron Man - just not Stark.”
“Wait, wait, wait. How would that even work? How can you want him on the team, but not want him on the team?”
Fury only raised an eyebrow, completely unamused by Peter, “That’s not the point, the point is that his suit can still be of use in the future. Stark is just out of the game regarding his position in a team, his inability to compromise with others will set back the beginnings of even hoping to achieve anything. And don’t look at me like that, I know you’re giddy that I was wrong.”
“I’m not doing anything! You can’t even see what I look like right now, considering that’s what the whole mask and secret identity thing is for,” Peter ignores how Fury can definitely see him smirking since his mask is still pulled halfway up. A point is trying to be made here.
Another question brews in his head while at the topic of Stark and his suit, “When you say his suit can still be used in the future, you mean replicating the basis of it, right? Because let me tell you there are some serious competitions already doing that, like Hammer Industries and even the military. You won't be the first to try, soon Stark’s technology won’t even be of help when there’s multiple versions of them flying everywhere.”
“Stark’s suit is extremely complex in the idea of its power source and its sustainability to hold a man while carrying out feats like his. Hammer Industries is nowhere near being able to copy its design and the military has a reason as to why they want to take the suit. They can’t replicate it and as of now, only one man has been able to. You have to give Stark some credit.”
“Yeah, one man too much! Someone could bail him out any second and he could share his knowledge to anyone he pleases to. Stark having an all powerful tech suit is already bad enough, what do you think would happen when everyone has access to it?”
“Calm down, Spider-Man. Not even I can confiscate the suit or obliterate anyone that holds the knowledge of how to replicate it. We just have to sit back and see what happens before stressing about something we can’t change. I understand your concerns but complaining about it to me not only doesn’t do anything you want it to, but only manages to give me an unnecessary migraine.”
“All I’m hearing is that it causes you a headache. Not sure how that’s supposed to stop me from talking,” Ah yes, torturing Fury was what he lives for nowadays, the twitch of his eye never ceases to make Peter laugh.
Peter glances at his non-existent watch and sighs profusely, shaking his head left and right in an exaggerated motion. By the time he gets back to Midtown, school would be almost over with the addition of a worried Ned, a fussing Harry and an angry MJ. Not a good combination. Especially if May is also informed about him skipping classes which Peter is certain that she’s already been to.
“Anything you want to add now? I have to get back to schoo- work. Yes, I have to get back to work! Boring office job and all, this is between us so don’t tell anyone about this but, my boss is lame. The kind that if he sees you not on your computer 24/7 he’ll totally freak out and definitely fire you on the spot. Not cool if you ask me, you’re lucky your job is to spy on people everyday.”
Peter manages to muster an awkward smile, the unnatural one with all white teeth and could distract you from whatever is happening before. Which he hopes to work on Fury, the ramblings must’ve taken his mind off on his little stumble up and instead think about his totally real boss that Peter totally has.
Luckily Fury still has a deadpan iron face locked in place, he must’ve thought the babbling was normal for Spider-Man. He didn’t know whether he should be thankful or offended at that. It was true, yes, but still he didn’t want to admit it. A boy does have feelings, “Actually, there is something I want to tell, but I’m sure you know already.”
“Well, what are you waiting for!? I can feel my boss walking towards my desk just to find out my cubicle is empty! The feeling of unemployment is too much to bear,” Peter hurriedly pulled down his mask to his neck line and jumped from foot to foot to prove to Fury how much of a time crunch he was in.
Fury himself stands up, following Peter’s actions, “Just wanted to let you know we’re still searching for Captain America. You might not have hope but at times like these and what can - will - come in the future, a little classic American hope is exactly what we need right now,” Fury then searched Peter up and down, cracking a smile, “But something tells me we already have that closer than we thought.”
-
Who knew aliens were a thing? Definitely not Peter, even though he had speculations that intergalactic life was possible somewhere across the spans of the universe. The aliens in question though, didn’t quite look like the three headed, green skin with pokey antennas he had imagined of. They in fact looked surprisingly human and… toned.
After the disaster that was the Stark expo - the suits that the said man was supposed to be showing off but instead had turned into uncontrollable robots programmed to destroy - something unexplainable had occurred in the outskirts of New Mexico. At first, no one thought much of it, until they did. An unmovable hammer rumoured so that only one can wield it was bound to attract attention.
Trucks and vans travelled across miles of grass plains and land carrying ropes and pulleys all for one intent only, to lift the hammer. It slowly became a small tourist attraction of some kind, gaining traction through media and generating desperate men trying to prove that they were able to lift up the sacred hammer. Of course, no one has ever been near successful.
And then S.H.I.E.L.D had to worm their way into making sure no one had access to it anymore, anyone within a few feet of the premises were forced to leave the area without being able to even catch the slightest glimpse of the hammer. No doubt they were trying to understand what they can’t, as always. Had to barricade off anything that they didn’t know, had to study it until they understood.
Then came the man with the glorious long blond hair and tanned muscles stretching across any exposed skin, the definition of what a man is practically right out of a textbook. Peter assumed he was crazy at the time for attempting to break into S.H.I.E.L.D’s lovely little base, not much information was gathered except for the fact he had tried to lift the hammer again - albeit unsuccessfully.
Fury, who had promised Peter to update him whenever something he deemed important had happened, obviously didn’t think the matter was significant enough to share with Peter. And he had tried to annoy the man to the point where he would give up any sort of information at least, but the phone line was received by, not Fury, but someone called Phil Coulson.
Weird. Peter had naively thought that their conversations in text were kept privately, not also read by some creep who happened to share the same number as Fury. Which then led to Peter realising that the number was probably not Fury’s private one anyway, but instead one that was shared throughout their assumed team. He hadn’t bothered tracking down the number thinking that there was no need, now he just felt betrayed.
Ignoring how Peter himself also hadn’t given Fury his real number. Touché…
Going back to the strange alien man, he’d somehow managed to escape the hold of S.H.I.E.L.D agents, which then led to an army of machines invading New Mexico. Great. Not concerning at all. What had happened to the glorious days of just Spider-Man roaming around Queens where the world didn’t contain advanced tech suits, a giant green Hulk, and then now aliens immigrating to Earth?
Amidst the Stark-like machines attacking Mexico, the said man quite literally summoned lightning and thunder while the hammer flew straight into his hands. The first thought that had crossed into Peter’s mind was ‘magic’. But Peter also happened to contain some knowledge on mythology, piecing the scattered sections of a story centuries ago wasn’t as hard as he would’ve thought.
The lighting, the hammer, even the hair matched up. It had to be. Peter was a man of science, he could excuse the spider bite seeing that it had only come into existence through many failed attempts of cross breeding experiments, it was close to being magic however. But this, this was inexcusable, no amount of explaining can justify how an immovable object had flown into a man’s hand just from a call. There was no explanation as to how lighting from a clear sky had just appeared.
The world was strange, and the stranger it gets, the more worried Peter becomes. Every hero has a villain and every villain is created by the birth of a hero. Thor, if Peter’s speculations were right, was a damn good hero in the few stories based on the God slash alien. The machines that attacked the town had to be sent from someone, a purpose to be served by the orders of another higher up.
Thor’s villain.
The more heroes there are, the more people are in danger. An oxymoron. Heroes were created all because of their purpose to protect, but by just existing, they had intentionally or not led to more deaths of innocent lives. Someone who is evil simply cannot exist when there is no good to contradict, just as a hero cannot be called one if there is nothing to save or protect.
With Iron Man came the mad scientists wrecking anything all just to replicate the suit, the birth of the man destroying the latest Stark Expo. With Captain America came Red Skull and his lust over the serum, the birth of years of people risking lives just to get a taste of what it means to be a super soldier. There will never be a cycle where the same loop doesn’t repeat itself, the same fate set on anyone arising to be a hero.
Thor had fortunately returned to whatever planet he came from, but the traces of his footsteps still lingers on Earth, opening the path to whatever, whoever wants to challenge the god. He had left relationships from his time in Mexico where people associated with him are now a chance for others to hurt them. And Peter wants to protect them, he does, but Mexico was a bit outside of his range as of now.
A realisation had hit him. Fury was right. The sudden rise of heroes and the emergence of power meant that it gave opportunities for villains to be created. Things were coming and they were going to come fast. The arrival of Thor was only a warning, a sign, the start of the inevitable.
Notes:
So sorry for the late update! I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)
Chapter Text
Peter feels it coming weeks before. A slight tingling nagging him at the back of his spine, the smallest thrumming of his hairs all across his body. The worry from his spider senses that something was bound to happen, making him jittery and twitchy throughout the days of school when the uncontrollable jerks had started. Always reminding Peter that Fury was right all along.
There was no reason for Peter to decide that his senses were right in this case, no evidence or suggestion that could indicate a threat was coming for all of them. But never once were his senses wrong, never once has his tingles ever misguided him into the wrong direction, they were always right. Always right about the gun being pointed at the back of his head, always right about the knife about to be stabbed in his abdomen, always right about a lie or two thrown at his face.
It was never wrong. But Peter can’t help but want it to be. If it was true, people would die sooner or later, his routine would be disrupted by forces too big for him to handle, a lot can happen by one warning of his senses. But deep down underneath the mask of freedom and happiness he has created over the course of the past few days, Peter knows that he was just fooling himself hoping for peace.
As they say, bliss is ignorance. And all Peter would like to do is to enjoy his time in the city undisturbed by villains and criminals. But he can’t. His subconsciousness can’t help but remind Peter that ever since he picked up the mask and suit, it was his duty to protect civilians and stop whatever danger is coming next. So Peter can’t relax on his bed or game with his friends like other regular teenagers, he has to find out what’s happening.
Of course it is now that Fury decides that he no longer wants Peter on the initiative (not that he wants to join anyway), flat out ignoring his texts and only ever reading a few once in a while without the grace of a response. A call shot at the other line was met with a simple voice mail with a metallic female voice saying, ‘please leave a message, we are not available as of now.’ Typical Fury move, only responding to Peter when it benefits him to do so.
It was about a month or so before Fury finally called him back.
“Spider-Man, will you stop with the incessant spamming every single hour of the week? It occurred to me on day two of you texting my number that you want something, something that I couldn’t tell you then. I’ll suggest trying to search up the courtesy on phone messaging soon.”
Fury drones on into Peter’s ear while he simultaneously catches a car with one hand and gets hit in the right leg with another. It had to be when he was busy preventing a car crash that Fury finally called at the most inconvenient time of the day. Peter falls to his knees after the brutal crush of the desperate attempt of a decelerating vehicle squished him between another car on his left, the adrenaline from swinging across buildings to reach this point of the road kept him from feeling the bruising pain immediately.
Peter bit on his bottom lip to prevent him from shouting in agony while on the phone with Fury, there was no need to give him the satisfaction of hearing the all-mighty Spider-Man in pain, “Um, hey. Perfect timing actually, I was just about to, uh, call you… Er- any chance you could wait a sec. Please? I know I just said perfect timing but nothing is really perfect in the world if you think about it-“
He hears Fury sigh and grunt in annoyance on the other side of the phone, Peter wasn’t sure of the full extent of that though, “You have a minute and counting. 59, 58, 57… you’re losing time the more you stall, Spider-Man.”
“Yeah, well, try stopping two cars with one hand and a thigh. You’ll find that it’s excruciatingly painful while enduring a phone call with the person you’ve been trying to call for days,” Peter screws the idea of keeping it hidden from the man, if anything, this was him trying to make him feel guilty almost. It will never work, if Peter doesn’t know any better, he’ll say Fury was incapable of feeling remorse, but it’s better to try than to not.
“Maybe stop getting into situations you can’t handle. And the reason I’ve been ignoring your calls was because, one: you’re annoying and I wasn't in the mood to talk to your little bug ass, and two: you were going to press about matters I had no intent on sharing with you,” Peter manages to squeeze his way out of the car and Spider-man sandwich without any people blocking his way for recognition.
With a limp and extreme effort, he launches a web up towards the nearest building ahead of him and swings himself to safety. Peter switches the phone to his slightly strained left hand and uses his free one to catapult him to a rooftop, hanging his pulsing leg below him while in the air, “You can stop the countdown now, I’m free from the crowd. And just in case you want to know, I have a limp as well.”
“I didn’t want to know that, thanks. And now that you’re free, I hope you remember about the phone call we were talking about months ago. The one where you gave your word to answer when the threat is upon us and you haul yourself over here to actually make yourself useful to us. I’m sure you know that something was going to happen within the days ahead of us, well, now it has. And we need your help.”
Peter can’t help but flinch when he hears that his speculations were right. His spider senses were correct in warning him about the dangers that Fury had told him about all those months ago. The months ago that felt like a million light years away, Peter has gained more experience and knowledge throughout his time as Spider-Man than ever before, and now it was only a matter of time before his life would change forever.
A threat so big that it requires a team of gifted individuals to fight the battles that others never could.
“Please, by all means, I would love to save the world from this new mysterious threat that we have on our hands, the people are my responsibility to take care of and you know I will do anything to protect them. If you could so gladly lead me to, what, like a headquarters or a secret base, I’ll be more than happy to follow,” Spider-Man was famously known to defeat criminals with the tactic of distraction by his charisma, the charisma of a light joke during a heavy situation. A laugh couldn’t hurt.
“Of course, turn around and I’ll do exactly that, Spider-Man,” Peter follows Fury’s instructions with a curiosity and a confusion clear in his hesitation, spinning around to see Nick Fury standing still with both arms crossed behind his signature leather trench coat. Stood assessing Peter for however long he was spying on him for. It was a wonder his spider senses had not alerted him of the man’s presence.
Along with the surprise appearance of Fury, flying down above him was probably one of the coolest, most cinematically beautiful quinjet Peter has ever laid eyes on - both fiction and reality. It was amazing to see one directly in front of his view with the jittery engine spluttering clanks and clinks into his eardrums all while the spectacular controller panel placed at the very front of the vehicle made his mouth water in fascination.
A dream come true was underwhelming to describe what Peter was feeling at that moment. Fury must’ve noticed him ogling at the quinjet as he proceeded to let out a dry chuckle at his blatant amazement, his amusement brought Peter back to the present and snapped his mind from the thought of detangling the vehicle to the moment at hand. Fury nodded at the quinjet and without a glance back, entered the doors leading into the large open area of seats and a table placed in the middle.
Peter practically jumped into the helicarrier and followed Fury’s example of taking a seat somewhere along the sides of the wall and fastening the seatbelt on. His excitement of just existing inside the carrier washed over the once throbbing pain across his thigh and replaced it with the sight of a jealous Ned. Within a minute, they were already soaring in the air, overlooking what was left of Queens they could see.
Silence commenced throughout their time in the quinjet, Peter, who was undoubtedly excited, was fidgeting with the hem of his suit the whole ride across the cities and skylines. This is it. The one thing he’s been dreading and dreaming of. This was what the big leagues are, what 14 year old Peter had accidentally caught himself into; a spring of webs he’d fallen through and awoken the spider slumbering in the middle of the net.
It was unbelievable to say a freshly scared teenager with the naive belief to change the world was the one behind the tough mask of red and blue. The one that had been invited to defeat whatever was coming by a world-wide organisation was the bullied Peter Parker with the too big glasses and too small clothes. Peter himself couldn’t believe it, was he even capable of facing these threats? Is he put up for this yet? Could Fury be wrong about him this whole time?
What if something happens during the fight and Peter can never find his way back to the innocent little boy that he was? What if he’s forever haunted by the daunting realisation that he would never be enough to protect everyone?
Millions of questions jump into Peter’s mind and never once was he given an answer back, it has occurred to him that, for the first time ever, Peter was scared. And he can’t go back now. Not now and not ever. This was a one way ticket the moment he stepped foot inside the quinjet and clicked the seatbelt on, and he couldn't escape it, this was the reality now, the truth. The beginning of the end.
-
Fury had just finished updating Peter on their current situation and, to be very honest, it sounded bad. Horribly so. Upon the mention of the Tesseract being stolen and thus lost had already set off some alarm bells in his head with the whole World War II and Captain America fiasco occurring years ago, but what Fury had said after was what really made Peter anxious. Loki, the brother of the previous Thor arriving on their planet.
From what S.H.I.E.L.D knows of the God and his limited knowledge on Norse mythology, Loki was dangerous. And for him to possess a powerful object slash weapon such as the Tesseract along with the already copious amount of power he must already have would no doubt unleash unlimited destruction on earth. Fury informed Peter that the god’s ultimate goal sounds awfully alike to a dictator’s, to control and rule over people as a form of power and greater punishment. Now Peter understands why Fury had sounded so urgent in the call.
It was a while before Peter could look out the window and not see a forever endless blue of waves, and what he saw was unreal. A giant piece of floating land with constructed roads and highway-like motorways all around the edges and sides, with planes, trucks, helicopters and motorcycles all parked and moving along the roads. The ones setting off zooming through the vast skies with the same quinjets roaming the air just like the one Peter and Fury is in.
What the public knew of the current stage of technology was that it was limited but expanding every day, but definitely not advanced enough to be all of this! Peter was awed at the sight, not sure if what his eyes were processing were real or just playing tricks on him like a fool. He can’t help but stick his face up on the window and marvel at the floating land beneath them, it getting larger and larger when their own carrier gets closer to the roads.
Peter was about to express his undeniably impressed self when a radio beside Fury interrupted him, “Coulson just checked in, he’d informed Stark on the situation and gave a file containing all the relevant information. He’s now on board with Captain Rogers and updating him on his new suit, along with who knows what he’s currently frying the man’s ears with. Agent Romanoff has Doctor Banner and is coming back from Rio de Janeiro, the other agents were unneeded and had all been called back.”
Peter snapped his head from his close up with the window to Fury at the name of ‘Captain Rogers’, a title lost throughout the years of what everyone had thought was gone at his noble sacrifice. Yes, Peter hasn’t forgotten about Fury’s pointless mission to search for the long lost Captain America, but never in a million years had he thought the man would ever have a chance of actually succeeding.
This was huge. Like insanely massively huge. Because Captain America is alive, and Captain America was supposed to be dead. A lot has happened in just the span of a few months, first S.H.I.E.L.D, then Tony Stark being Iron Man, the creation of Hulk and last but not least, a literal God slash alien had lived within our society for weeks. But the first ever superhero that birthed lines of failed recreations and branches of sub-heroes being found alive? That would be the most notable of all.
And Peter? Peter is thrilled. Somewhere deep inside the shell of a hard exterior crafted to become Spider-Man was the young boy that collected and craved over illustrations of Captain America and dreamt of becoming what the man was one day. Because Captain America was the absolute symbol of good, he wasn’t like Iron Man or the Hulk where they’re labelled as heroes but had to destroy and kill many in the process of their transformation, he was genuinely just… good.
Peter attempted to link eyes with Fury, or lenses to eyes, to indicate that he needed answers. Captain America was already a shocker, but the Hulk? The one that was practically a living death machine bringing absolute havoc and chaos to wherever he goes? For some reason, he doesn’t think having the man on the ship was a particularly great idea. Before he could annoy Fury again with his antics, he felt the disturbance of the air and stability around them change as the quinjet shook for landing.
Fury finally locked his sight on Peter and again nodded his head towards the sliding doors without a word, clicking on one of the buttons on his radio to silence the cackling emerging from the device. Peter didn't hesitate to waste a second following Fury out the vehicle, muttering a quick ‘thank you’ to the driver, May didn’t teach him manners for nothing. He stepped foot on the solid ground and looked around for Fury, losing the man for a few momentarily seconds with a line of S.H.I.E.L.D agents marching between them.
“This, Spider-Man, is the Helicarrier. An airborne aircraft mobile housing weapons, advanced technology, equipment and global resources-“
“Wait, so you mean this isn’t just land? By aircraft you mean a ship? You’re telling me this thing that I’m standing on right now can take off at any second? How does that even work? The mass of this craft and the acceleration it must require to actually fly us must be astronomical-“
Fury stops in his strutting and turns around to show Peter his most annoyed exterior he has ever shown, “If you don’t mind, I appreciate not getting interrupted. Keep your mouth shut and don’t question everything everytime, you’re here to co-operate, not to chat my ears off. Be on your best behaviour and don’t mess anything up, only once they arrive then we can debrief some more.”
Peter frowns and carries on walking behind Fury solemnly, he knows that Fury has almost zero idea on what his identity is and who the man hiding behind the mask could be, but the way Fury talks down to him only reminded Peter of his Dad scolding him for not perfecting everything. Peter wasn’t a petulant child, he didn't need Fury to tell him how to behave or how to act accordingly, he’s been doing this alone for long enough to know that he can survive just fine by himself.
“Sir, I trust that you received my message?” A woman, young but radiating sophistication, joined Fury on their walk towards a pair of doors leading to a building block - the headquarters he assumes. She had her dark brown hair in a sleek low bun, an earpiece attached, and a S.H.I.E.L.D uniform with their signature eagle logo on the sleeves. She reminded Peter of a certain auburn-haired woman.
She turned her head ever so slightly to the right, seemingly only noticing his presence just now. Unperplexed was the word to describe her, she pursed her lips while noticeably scanning him up and down, he had a feeling she wasn’t trying to hide it. Fury followed her gaze on to Peter, “Spider-Man, this is Maria Hill, also known as Agent Hill. Agent, I’m sure you already know this is Spider-Man. I would say shake hands but I’m not that cruel.”
Peter caught up to Agent Hill’s side instead of walking behind their backs like an unwanted bug, because quite frankly, spiders are arachnids, “He’s just joking, I’m not that bad, or at least half as bad,” She glanced at him and only shook her head at Peter with a small barely noticeable sigh. Why is it that everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D seems to dislike him so much?
Fury led their little group to the front of the building block, greeting some other agents who were on their way out the doors, all wearing the same exact uniform as Agent Hill. Once they entered the doors, they stepped down a huge set of stairs filled with people traversing up and down, leading them to the main entrance underneath the bottom of the roads. It was then separated by different hallways and doors where some entered them and others left, Peter followed Fury and Hill to one on the right.
It was fascinating to roam around the halls of the headquarters, the ridiculously advanced technology surrounds Peter with their blinding lights in too dark hallways, monitors hung around the corners of every wall showing symbols and numbers he wishes to understand. Peter wants to learn all of it.
He lightly touches the railing protecting them over a bridge with various levels underneath them, each floor only fuels his obsession to understand what secrets lie beneath the files and folders stored in the hidden cabinets. Peter blindly followed Fury and Hill through numerous hallways, darting his eyes around the place to memorise the directions. Who knows if there will ever come a time when Peter had the chance to snoop, knowing his way around would be a great benefit.
Traversing across a few more twisted corners before they reached an entrance, there were no visible handles anywhere, no grip for them to open up the door. The design of it was like a bank vault, concealing sacred information away from unwanted attention, Peter is hungry for whatever is hidden inside. When they were only a few feet from the door, he almost worries they were going to walk straight into it - it opens with a sigh.
The first thing Peter notices is the great span of windows covering the whole of the wall across from him, it desperately fills the once dark hallways with a canvas of natural sunlight - he could see outside the different jets preparing to land above them. The second thing he notices is the landing underneath them housing multiple agents all either moving or sitting down in their own designated workspaces, the ones that were sitting mouthed into their earpieces and typed hurriedly into their computers.
The third thing he could see was a controlling station with monitors and screens placed in the middle of the enormous space, a circular pit behind the counter designed for one to operate it. Peter would guess it was to control the whole ship; this whole experience was getting scarily similar to StarWars and he was so not prepared for this like, at all. While Peter was busy taking in the whole sight, Agent Hill disappeared within the working crowd and Fury walked up to him at last.
“Spider-Man, glad to see you’re impressed and awed. The others would be arriving shortly, try brainstorming on the proper etiquette on how to behave with your peers politely, please,” Fury smirks at Peter while he was still busy searching his gaze around the room, walking away to leave him wondering on the mechanics and technology behind the ship. Peter finds a round conference table with an imprinted eagle logo on top, even a table was admirable as of now.
He chooses the chair at the end facing the whole room, sitting down and pulling up his feet on the seat with him. Don’t blame him, it wasn’t childish, it was just comfortable. Peter puts on a faux act of relaxing, sagging down and looking around the room, trying to spot Fury. The man had claimed his spot on the circular area behind the sets of monitors, looking onwards through the windows while agents walked past him speaking codes and programs all seemingly to do with the same protocol.
The protocol in question wasn’t hard for Peter to decide what it was. He was curious at first, leaning forward to catch whatever hints an agent could spew out, squinting at the monitor Fury was tapping on to spot any indicators. Then, Peter was almost thrown out his chair by the ship rocking unsteadily, with Agent Hill shouting engagements at different people and informing Fury that they were “ready to move”. It was then followed by Fury pushing a set of levers and switches, escorting them upwards.
Peter had to use his stickiness to prevent him from rocking forwards and smashing his head into the ground, he had no chance of using his grip on the table beside him as he was all too engaged with the engines of the ship spluttering to keep them floating. He could notice how the once submerged ship was carried out into the air with waves of seawater splashing on the surface outside; access water stored in holes beside the ship was spilled out almost like a waterfall.
When Fury said the ship was airborne, Peter knew that they would take off sometime during his stay here, he just hadn’t expected so suddenly. It didn’t take long before he felt a slight tingle up his spine indicating that someone was coming - someone who’s important, someone that Peter would want to make a good impression of himself to. Hurriedly pushing his feet on the floor and fixing his posture so it stands up straight, Peter turns his sight on the door and waits.
The door slides open and Captain America walks in. Peter tightens his grip on the table in front of him, Captain America just walks in. After more than 60 years frozen in ice in the Arctic, the man looks just the same as he did in World War II. With the glorious blond hair and shining blue eyes, his tall physique and defined exterior visible even in a normal flannel and pants. Yes, Peter’s a fan boy, of course he had to describe his toned muscles and his beautiful features.
The Captain walks in and gazes around the room with his mouth slightly opened, Peter might be reaching, but he was sure that was exactly what he looked like when he had first entered as well. Peter follows the man’s trail around the room with his eyes, noticing how they were all collectively staring intently at Fury and his concentration on controlling the aircraft. It was clear that something else was on its way by the uplift of orders being handed out once again.
“Hover power check complete. Position cyclic, increase collective to 8.0 percent.”
“Preparing for maximum performance takeoff. Increase output to capacity.”
“Power plant performing at capacity. We are clear.”
Peter notices Hill commanding some agents and notifying another, “All engines are operating. S.H.I.E.L.D Emergency protocol 193.6 in effect. We are at level sir.”
She nodded at Fury, walking past him to check another monitor worked by a small team huddled together, Fury nods back, “Good. Let’s vanish.”
“Engage retro-reflective panels,” By that command, what Peter could see outside on the grounds he had walked on just minutes before had disappeared. Vanished, just as Fury had said. It was a slow process for the whole of the ship to turn on these ‘retro-reflective panels’, it was however still fascinating for Peter to witness them blend in with the skies amongst themselves. It seems as if the Captain and Dr. Banner were both completely emerged with this as much as he was.
The last of the commands went out by who Peter thought would be the bridge tech, with only now quiet murmurs and small chatters amongst the agents and crew, “Reflection panels engaged in full operation.
“Gentlemen,” Fury appears once again beside Peter, welcoming Captain Rogers and Dr. Banner, subtly showcasing the room with a wave of his hand. It was then followed by Fury receiving 10 dollars with a proud smirk and a Captain still admiring every detail and corner of the place. The Captain passed by a hopeful Peter for at least 3 times now, too engaged with the architecture surrounding them.
Did Peter feel a bit disappointed that he had gone unnoticed by some? Yes. But that doesn’t mean Captain America had purposefully did so, Peter had also barely paid attention to anything else other than inspecting the place. Peter solemnly turned around just in time to see Dr. Banner conversing politely with Natasha, who he had met previously before, albeit not a very friendly first interaction. They looked like they were getting on fairly well, considering how she hasn’t been very prone to nice first meetings.
Act cool. Don’t panic and geek out in front of them, Peter thought to himself. So what if two of his childhood idols growing up were currently standing in touching distance? Why would it matter that the one who had first sparked his hope in saving humanity and the other who had kicked started off him to do so through his novels were both across from him right now? That didn’t matter. What mattered now is to make himself as presentable as possible and to try not to appear as a 15 year old boy masked as a man.
Dr. Banner fidgets with the hem of his sleeves looking as alarmed as one could, glancing around at everyone and breathing heavily which can only be noticed by someone with super hearing. As of now, there are currently two people in this room who can do so. Peter didn’t bother trying to hide his fixated attention on the doctor, it wasn’t his intention to make the man uncomfortable, but to draw his attention away from his glares at innocent agents. He might look up to Dr. Banner but he was no doubt still wary of the Hulk.
The man seemed to notice someone’s attention on him, turning around to search for them. His gaze landed on Peter, well Spider-Man, and his eyes widened in surprise and disbelief. Dr. Banner steadily treaded closer to him, “Spider-Man, I had no idea that you were also recruited! It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, I can’t say that I haven’t been interested in you for quite a long time. In fact, ever since your first appearance I’ve been intrigued.”
The doctor shook hands with Peter, “Well, there’s a lot of things people here don’t tell you,” Peter glances back at Fury, “And I also can’t say I’ve been a stranger to your work, your ideas in gamma radiation is incredible if I do say so myself,” He can’t help but feel a little accomplished that a world renowned scientist was interested with Peter, it was only fair to share how he feels the same towards the doctor.
“Ah. That seems to be the only thing people are fixated on currently, the gamma radiation,” The man says a bit bitterly avoiding eye contact. Oh, Peter sees now.
“And of course can’t forget about your work in nuclear physics, I’m a particular fan of your discoveries in that field. I have to admit that some of my own inventions wouldn’t have been possible without you. Hell, you even inspired me to some extent,” Peter confesses to the Doctor. It must be exhausting to only be recognised by something he probably isn’t particularly proud of, for your other works that you’re passionate about to get ignored only for a life changing incident to take over the spotlight.
Dr. Banner raises his head with his eyebrows almost touching the lines of his forehead, for someone to appreciate his other qualities must be a shock to him. They break apart just in time for Fury to approach the man after and indicate a handshake, “Doctor, thank you for coming.”
“Thanks for asking nicely. So, how long am I staying?”
It was followed by a conversation between the two on S.H.I.E.L.D’s current status on tracking the Tesseract, Dr. Banner suggesting ideas on a more efficient method, and Natasha leading the man away off to some lab for spectrometers and to calibrate for gamma rays radiating off the Tesseract. It was clever, Peter had only managed to keep up with Dr. Banner on his explanations to Fury who looked as if nothing was out of the ordinary, but he knew that the man was just as confused on what “cluster recognition” is.
Peter notices the Captain eyeing him cautiously when passing by him to stand by an agent with the name badge ‘Phil Coulson’, who he’d unintentionally called instead of Fury. He must be confused about the whole red and blue body suit and why he’s covered up from head to toe with a spider-theme, and Peter wouldn’t blame him. He recognises that he awfully stands out compared to the dull coloured uniforms of every agent in the room, and for someone who had just come back from over 60 years ago, it would be weird for a person to copy your whole colour scheme.
Every agent in the room was all typing in their keyboards and glancing up at their screens once in a while, all seemingly to look for something, or someone. Finally, one speaks up, “We got a hit, a 67 percent match. Wait, cross match of 79 percent. Spotted in Stuttgart, Germany, 28 Konigstrasse. He’s not exactly hiding.”
Fury looks back behind to catch the Captain’s and Peter’s attention, signalling for them to take action, for them to be ready, “Captain, you’re up. And Spider-Man, seeing that you’re still here and haven’t run away yet, I take it that you’ll accompany us on a flight to Germany?”
Peter sighs and stands up, over-exaggerating his stretch of his arms over his head and cracking each of his fingers one by one, making an obnoxiously loud snapping noise, “Well, how could I deny this wonderful invitation you’ve granted me? And who would Spider-Man be if he doesn’t take the chance to protect his people at a time of danger? I was the first one here, you know.”
Notes:
Hey everyone! Sorry for the late chapter again, summer’s been surprisingly busy and I’ve been on holidays after holidays so I’ve tried to keep a good schedule to write and post chapters hopefully once every week/ two weeks. Anyway, hope you enjoy reading this new chapter and FINALLY things are starting to get heated up. I plan for the next few chapters to have longer word counts to make up for the lack of consistent uploading, so please forgive me!!
Chapter 10: Chapter 10
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Peter glances out the quinjet once more, dimly looking at the fluorescent lights glowing from the buildings of Stuttgart, Germany. They’ve been flying out for hours now, once or twice Peter’s patience would run out and he would complain about the absolute abyss in the jet to Natasha who was sitting in the pilot’s seat. And once or twice, she would reluctantly respond but always with a put out sigh, sometimes continuing conversations without a certain topic between them. Just idly chattering about nothing while the jet was on auto mode.
Somewhere above Europe, he received a call from a worried Harry bombarding him with questions and demanding answers. Peter didn’t have an excuse as to why he wasn’t in Midtown high school enduring another repetitive session on algebra, and he certainly didn’t have a reason as to why there was an engine running in the background. All he could do was dodge and change subjects, convince Harry that he wasn’t flunking school and promised to do better next time. None of the words that came out of his mouth were true.
He had to block the sound from reaching Natasha while on the call, too many words like ‘class’ and ‘school’ were said from Harry’s end. Peter had to tiptoe around using words like those while making sure that it still made sense to Harry but won't bring up any suspicion to Natasha. That didn’t stop her from smirking over at Peter at the surprise call, obviously not missing the panic state the rings coming from his phone had caused him. Thank Thor she hadn’t said anything, he didn’t need Harry catching a second voice at his end.
Now they were only a few minutes away from reaching their destination, Peter hadn’t expected an airport for them to land in but he was steadily growing more and more worried at the lack of a viable landing spot at sight. Natasha had informed him of the sudden Loki attack at a hall holding dozens of ‘important’ people gathering together. They've dropped off the Captain nearby to maintain the order for the citizens but years thawed in a block of ice tells Peter that fighting a god immediately afterwards wasn’t a good idea.
And it turns out that he was right, even Natasha agreed that “the guy was all over the place”. The man endured a few jabs and kicks, sure, but Peter knew how it looked like when you had the clear advantage over the person on the other end of a fight, from the multiple experiences of him having the upper hand on some newbie criminal it was obvious who was fated to lose. Captain America had thankfully prevented any citizens from harm but he himself was getting beaten up by someone who didn’t even look tired.
Natasha was about to threaten the god with a few missiles when their radios got penetrated by a blast of a rock song, it threw Peter off for the first initial seconds before his senses warned him of someone incoming. And it was pretty obvious who it was from then onwards, he could even hear the repulsors - Iron Man. Of course his entrance had to be flashy and unpredictable, flying in from the sky to land beside Captain Rogers, opening a hatch from his suit to arm a small missile at Loki. Peter didn’t want to admit it, but the element of surprise worked, the god surrendered.
For some reason, whether it was his spider senses or his subconscious, it felt too easy. There was something else, he knew it.
Getting Loki on board wasn’t a hard task at all, restraining him and pushing him onto his feet required barely any effort. Like the god didn’t mind losing, like he’d never really given up the battle; it only fuelled Peter’s suspicions even more. He’d never had the chance to voice his scepticism when Stark entered the quinjet parading his brilliance at them while the Captain started walking forwards and backwards around the jet contemplating something in his head. All Peter could do was to sit back, gazing intently at Loki.
It seems as though the god didn’t mind Peter’s eyes on him, his hands tied behind his back without a care in the world that he was captured by them. It was weird that Loki never once attempted to break free from the restraints, it would be entirely stupid for him to try, but weird nonetheless. He had a feeling that the god wasn’t the type to relent so easily, so why was he? Why does he have a smug smirk on his face looking at the others who were busy paying attention to their own actions? Peter had questions that he didn’t have time to answer when Captain America finally took a seat across from him.
When the Captain had first arrived on the helicarrier, he and Peter never had a proper introduction. He barely even looked at his way before waking past him as if he wasn’t there in the first place, as if he was avoiding him like a ghost. But now here he was, sitting opposite him and openly meeting him in the eyes (well Peter was wearing a mask but still). It was a while before either of them had initiated the start of a conversation.
“Can I ask you something, Spider-Man?” From all the things that Peter had expected him to say, a question like that was not on his list of possible outcomes this would lead to.
“Uh, sure. Go for it.”
Peter was awfully aware of how Stark was now paying full attention to them and Natasha, who though seemed indifferent, had a new glint in her eyes, “Why is it that you wear a mask? Coulson informed me that you were the first one after me for over 60 years, and for all I know, you’ve been doing this for months now. Secret identities, they never seem to last long,” He subtlety glances at Stark.
Peter leans towards the Captain, putting his elbows on his knees and regards the man with a look. He had to push down the 6 years old little Peter wanting to bounce out with excitement when Captain America had wanted to talk to him, he reminded himself that he wasn’t Peter anymore, he was Spider-Man, “The mask, it’s a second life. A new person. Without it, I guess you could say I’m exposed. Without it, I’m just me.”
“A second life?”
Peter thinks over the words in his head, “…When I put it on… I get to be Spider-Man for a few hours. Just Spider-Man, nothing else. And I also get to stop being Spider-Man. With the mask, I don’t just protect myself, I protect my friends, my family too. No one knows who I am underneath the mask, and it’s better that way, people can’t link anyone I care about to hurt me or them because they know that the person behind the mask is the person who fights crime for a living.”
The Captain nods briefly, as if verifying something, “Yes, I thought that was it. I was curious at first, as to why. Then I realised you had the choice, I’ve never gotten the chance to do the same that you had, to protect who you love. I envy that.” He doesn’t say it with resentment, but he says it with admiration. Peter can’t help but smile a bit underneath the mask.
“Thanks, I guess.”
The silence was broken by a sniff to Peter’s right, he glanced to his side and spotted Stark pointedly turning away from them. In some way, this short conversation was about him as well, about how he had the choice to protect his loved ones while he could, but didn’t. Peter guessed that the billionaire caught on just as he had. Captain Rogers stood up with a sigh, as if not just a moment ago they were sharing a small bit about themselves like they were close friends, continuing to roam around the quinjet in a dizzying repeating loop.
Peter leaned back to rest on his seat, with everyone going back to what they were doing before, he resumed his role in observing Loki, who unlike before, was now staring back at him. It was unnerving to a sort, for the god to access Peter like he was a bug worth dissecting to study its components, like he thought Peter was someone who he wanted to understand. Instead of retreating back and breaking eye contact, he continued staring back at him. He wasn’t scared of the god, just as Loki found him interesting, Peter did too.
While Peter and Loki were busy intently staring back at each other while Captain America roamed around the jet, a struck of lighting breached the outsides of the night skies. Captain and Stark flinched ever so slightly, Peter couldn’t help but notice how Loki looked up from his place for the first time since getting captured and pondered up towards the sky. He unmistakably looked disturbed by the sudden thunder, making Peter wonder whether that was real fear entering the god’s eyes; out of all the things he thought he could be afraid of, a little lightning certainly wasn’t it.
“Where’s this coming from?” She mutters more to herself than to them. Peter unsteadily walked towards Natasha’s side, she was flicking a few switches on the controlling panel and glanced out the glass, her gaze followed across the thunder getting increasingly brighter and louder by the second. Another strike flew past the quinjet, okay, Peter takes it back, maybe it’s not a little lightning… The sky was too clear just a few seconds ago for the lightning to be natural, this would be what they say is the god’s work.
And Peter just realised it was exactly that, he had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what was coming next. He walked back to Loki’s side, searching him for anything that could indicate what he was guessing is correct, the god only hung his head looking up at the various different lightning strikes. The Captain glanced back at him, “What’s the matter? Are you scared of a little lightning?”
“I’m not overly fond of what follows.”
And that was all Peter needed to know he was right, he realised a second after his spider senses blared at him to protect himself, a warning so strong that he visibly flinched. His senses irked him to duck under a seat or to hide behind anything viable, which would be what he wanted to do, only that he spotted Loki looking unsurely around the quinjet. The god thought the same as Peter had, knew what would happen following the lightning and thunder, but Peter also knew that this meant they were no longer the only one after Loki anymore.
“Someone get Loki! He’s not secure by himself-“ Peter was cut off by something landing on top of the quinjet, shaking the entire aircraft. Surprisingly it was Stark who had a better survival instinct, reaching for his suit’s helmet and securing it on his head, the screens that were the lenses for his eyes sparked up to a dimly lit blue. It was too late for anyone to get a hold of the god before Stark impulsively pressed a button opening the hatch at the back of the jet, releasing the winds gushing into them as well as the only barrier they had to separate Loki from Thor.
“What are you doing!?” Rogers shouted at Stark with every bit of angry indignation a man could muster. Peter hurriedly tried to rush towards Loki, battling the strong winds attacking onto his face, only a moment after he got up did his senses overload him with a warning to just run and hide. Then followed a thump that strummed the grounds Peter was struggling to keep still on, he hesitantly looked over to the opened hatch and there he was standing - Thor.
Stark pointed his repulsors at the god, an admittedly stupid move made by a self proclaimed genius. Thor flung his hammer onto him sending the man flying backwards at the wall, the hammer sticking on to the suit as if it was willed to stay there. Peter was all but a second too late to reach Loki before Thor took his brother by the collar, calling back the hammer with a show of his hand and flinging both of them off the quinjet in a matter of seconds.
Stark immediately got up from his position laying on the floor, resettling his suit with a mechanical whirl and a roll of his head to set his eyes out towards the hatch. The Captain rushes to block the man from flying out seeking for the escaped gods, “Stark, we need a plan of attack!”
“I have a plan. Attack,” Without a look back, he activates the repulsors from his legs and flies out towards the forests they were over on the quinjet. Then a series of events follows after: Captain America equipping on the emergency parachute sitting innocently on the side of the jet, Natasha warning him on the dangers outside and advising him to stay put, and the man completely ignoring her truthfully sound advice and dropping down to a cover of clouds which blocks the last remaining sight Peter had on him. Great, now Peter was left alone by a bunch of impulsive idiots.
But he had to admit, they didn’t have much choice but to run, or fly, after Thor and Loki. Stark was right about one thing during their trip together, losing Loki means losing track on the Tesseract, something they (S.H.I.E.L.D) desperately wanted back for whoever knows why. But the Tesseract is powerful, too powerful in fact that it can produce an infinite amount of sustainable energy which they had never seen before, meaning if it ever gets into someone’s hands who didn’t know what they were doing, they could get hurt.
Loki unfortunately knows what the Tesseract was capable of, he knows how to control it by all means, a random passing by citizen with no knowledge on the power it contains could accidentally set off a blow and lead to multiple deaths. It was just a hypothetical scenario of what could happen, but the chances of it actually occurring wasn’t entirely impossible either. So yes, Stark and Rogers made a spontaneous decision to literally jump off a jet without much safety precaution, but it was the best decision there was for the foreseeable future.
Peter peeks out of the hatch, undeniably scared of the fall from up in the sky. He feels a scorching glare from someone behind him, turning around to find Natasha looking as annoyed as ever, “I know what you’re planning, bug boy. Don’t follow what the Captain did, jumping off 35,000 feet up in the air isn’t a very good idea. Besides, he was trained in the military, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out a rookie vigilante doesn’t know how to work a parachute!”
She had to shout at him for Peter to comprehend what she was saying over the rushing winds, and honestly, 35,000 feet was a long way up. The deep sinking feeling in his gut was unmistakably fear, something unusual he wasn’t familiar with in his time as Spider-Man. Even May’s advice of a deep breath in and a long breath out wasn’t working particularly well, just the thought of dropping down towards the trees was enough to make Peter’s adrenaline rush through him. But he had to do this, to put people before him even if it meant facing something he had never wanted to.
“Who said I needed a parachute for this? And it’s not bug boy, it’s Spider-Man.”
And with that, he flung himself out of the hatch with a dramatic backflip off down towards the forest trees. The last thing he could hear from the quinjet was Natasha’s intake for air, he could even call it a gasp noticing the disbelief on her face the last second he could see inside the jet. Peter could feel everything while the wind knocked his body down and forwards in different directions, it was just like the rides he would go on with Uncle Ben that would carry you up and down and over again, the same feeling that stirred up in your stomach when you dropped down.
Except this time there were no safety belts or his Uncle’s comforting hand placed over his, this time he was just free falling down and down and down with no ounce of self confidence that he would survive this. That this would be the last time anyone would ever hear of him because this was Spider-Man and not Peter Parker, someone who didn’t have any connections to friends or families, someone who was all alone. No, this wasn’t the time to contemplate over whether he was going to survive or not, it was a time to contemplate on how to survive.
Peter willed all his energy to spread his arms and legs into a wider position, using his body to form his own parachute. It had barely slowed his fall down but had only made it so that all he could see were the trees expanding bigger and bigger every second he was in the air doing nothing. An idea formed in his head, it wasn’t going to work like it did in movies or cartoons, but it was his best shot if he wanted to live and not transform himself into a red and blue pancake in the middle of nowhere.
Honestly, why didn’t he think of a proper plan before jumping out to his impending doom? He was just as bad as Stark and Captain Rogers. Peter zoomed in on the pine tree standing out compared to the other minuscule vegetation, in a distance this high up the pine tree was infinitely larger, it reached up to more than double some of the other tree’s sizes and could decelerate the landing. It would still hurt like a bitch, but this was really all up to chance and how good his durability really was. Maybe he was even more overpowered than he thought.
Moving his arms around as if he was swimming in the air, Peter managed to manoeuvre just slightly so he could land on the hopefully soft leaves sticking out of the branches. Immediately clicking on his web shooters, a bundle of web fluid flung out towards the highest peak of the tree, then he could feel his chest landing on a small branch. Then his face made contact with the trunk, and his right leg destroyed a group of sticks which he assumed was a bird’s nest. His vision was blurred due to the leaves all attacking his mask lens, the only sound he could hear were the rustle of the leaves and his own painful grunts.
Surprisingly the last moment he released his webs that caught onto the tree had slowed down his fall momentarily, he’d released his shooters just the right time for the web to pull him back up and hang himself there just by a thin string. His face and the upper half of his body were stinging in agony, he could barely hold onto his webs for more than a few seconds before his grip slipped and he was once again falling down. Peter had no choice but to wait for the crush he would feel when meeting the ground, there was nothing around him for him to slow down the fall once more.
Peter barely had to wait before he dropped down onto a hard rock, flopping down to his side when he finally touched solid land. By all the luck the universe must’ve blessed him with, he survived. It was just like magic. It took him a while before Peter could finally stand up without stumbling back down, his head was giving him a pounding headache and there was no doubt the thick substance dribbling down his arm was blood. But that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things because somehow, Peter was still alive.
His hopeful mood only extended when he glanced up to catch the stars but had spotted Loki instead, who despite having escaped the quinjet, was still eyeing Peter with fascination. The god was perched precariously on the edge of a cliff, one leg dangling down and the other crossed in front of him, not forgetting the most notable feature of all, he was alone. With a grunt and a desperate pull of his legs, he positioned himself to swing up towards the cliff when he heard a loud clang just a little in front of him.
Peter launched a web behind Loki and swung himself on top of the cliff, thankfully the god’s hands were still encaptured by the cuffs so a fight wouldn’t be likely to occur. Peter looked down to see Stark and Thor having the battle of their lives, one blaring a repulsor at the other and the other blocking the attack by spinning a hammer around. If Peter was told that the god of Thunder would be up against a man in a metal suit, it would be clear who would win in the scenario. But in all truthfulness, Stark was putting up a good fight.
Just like before, Peter wasn’t scared of Loki, he was cautious, but sitting down beside the god didn’t make him shake with fear or quiver in nervousness. Loki had the face of an aristocrat, everything about him was sharp, from his features to his personality (well what Peter assumed was his personality). His face was indifferent to Peter’s presence, no emotion betraying what he was feeling, although he did glance sideways at Peter willingly sitting down beside him. The god seemed more interested in the fight happening in front of them than anything.
“You know, I played this out in my head with you doing some wiggly woo magic on me, not us sitting together watching our best friends fight each other," Peter had no choice but to start up a conversation, it wasn’t necessary, but Peter wanted to know more about Loki. He needed to understand him, get into his head before he gets into his.
Loki smirked, finally an expression, “Why? Is it because you are afraid of me? I am truly flattered, but I’ll give you a little secret, without my staff, I am of no use.”
Peter was a little surprised that Loki would give away genuinely resourceful information without even any prodding, which is why he’s already weirded out by the god. Not to mention this only made Peter suspicious of him again, someone like Loki wouldn’t just exchange something without anything back, whether or not it was directly in his face. So he was either lying or he was planning something deeper, something more, Peter guessed it would be the latter considering his senses would’ve warned him of the former, “And what if I said I don’t believe you?”
Loki had his face turned away from Peter watching the fight, but no doubt he was wearing a smug look, “Then I’ll give you another secret, I was lying. I can only do very little, but just enough to say… protect someone from a fall.”
Peter’s eyes instantly widened, his senses did nothing to warn him that the god was lying, but it had stayed silent before as well, meaning it just contradicted each other. If Loki was truly lying about not having magic, then how could his senses not have told him? Could it be possible that his senses don’t work against the god? If so, then Peter would have to be more careful, one trick from the god might cost everything. That wasn’t the only thing that surprised him, if Loki was being truthful here, that would mean without his intervention, Peter would’ve died. The only question is, why did Loki save him?
“Why? We’re on opposing sides, saving your enemy is like, the one thing you’re not supposed to do.”
“You are not my enemy, Spider-Man. You’re simply just a bug in the way of my plans,” Loki chuckled at Peter’s scandalised face, “However, that does not make you uninteresting. Yes, letting you rot away on the forest floors would benefit me quite well, but maybe I want something more. Maybe, I want to make you into my personal servant and after that, I will then crush you like you are nothing."
Peter hums, “Or maybe, you don’t want me around because of that. Maybe you do find me interesting but that’s not the real reason, is it?”
“You have a laughable amount of bravery for a simple mortal that it slowly turns into arrogance. But I’ll tell you why, you and the Captain value family the most over anything that you are willing to give up the praise and glory that comes along with your heroing. And it’s pathetic, Captain Rogers is too far gone in his own agenda, but you, I see potential in you. You are powerful, more so than the average man, but your morals hold you back. It prevents you from achieving a glorious purpose.”
“The last time someone tried to do a recruiting speech, it didn’t go very well. I turned down their offer and had them follow my rules instead, what makes you think yours would be any different? Because it wouldn’t, I don’t care that you see potential in me, I don’t care that I give up the advantages of being a ‘hero’, what I care about is protecting my family even if it means I’ll have to sacrifice everything I have. And that’s something I’m proud of.”
“You are proud of facing death for the goodness of others? How has that turned out? Is your family alive and whole yet? Don’t tell me that you believe hiding your alias would protect them from an inevitable death. One way or another they will find out someday, and not all of them will agree with you, not all of them will accept you for who you are. They wouldn’t do the same for you.”
At this point in their conversation, Loki had abandoned his attention on the fight still growing underneath them and instead sorted to face Peter. He was taller than him, his posture made the god look put together even after he had been captured by two different parties in a span of a few hours. Loki was intimidating, the way he speaks had already put him on a higher pedal stool compared to Peter’s New York accent and slang. However Peter wasn’t the one to back down now this far into a heated argument, he might not want to be a teammate to S.H.I.E.L.D, but he can sure as hell try to figure Loki out.
“You talk down on family a lot for someone who had just been rescued by his own brother. Thor looked really angry with us for capturing you, why aren’t you grateful that he risked himself to save you?”
Loki scoffed, “You are blinded by what the old tales have told you, Thor is no less my brother than he is my real family. Everyone was deceived by Odin and his lies, his way of raising a ‘family’ was to hide his precious son away from his origins and instead feed him a story of a perfect family. Thor shares his blood with Odin and I share mine with the Frost Giants, we will never be brothers, no matter if I had ever found out.”
Peter thinks of May, thinks of all the things she has ever done for him, everything that she gave for him after his parent’s and Ben’s deaths. Everything that she sacrificed for Peter. They were not biologically related but what they’ve been through together was enough for Peter to love May as a family, “You’re wrong. Family isn’t about blood or the genes that you possess, it’s about connection. It’s about what you both would do for each other, if a mother abandons her child they aren’t family, they’re just strangers that happen to have the same genetic information in them.
A woman raising a child with love and care despite her not birthing them is enough. Two children growing up with eachother, looking after eachother, playing together, fighting together, is enough for them to be family. A real family isn’t about blood, it’s about who you are with them,” Peter notices throughout his grand speech that Loki had once more turned his attention onto the fight still commencing before them. The slightest crease around his mouth forms when he watches Thor.
“Odin hid away my heritage because he was disgusted with it, he could only tolerate me so long as I appear as he pleases. I am a Frost Giant, not an Asgardian, and who you call my ‘father’ can’t seem to accept my ways.”
Peter joins Loki in watching the fight. Stark’s suit appears to suddenly become stronger and more powerful, managing to fly Thor off into the air before falling back down again to dodge a hit from his hammer, “Well, does your ways contain controlling us humans as a dictator? Because I think I see why Odin wouldn’t want to ‘accept your ways’.”
“I am not a ‘dictator’ no matter how much you and the Captain want to compare me to one. I was born to rule, to watch over your race as it is your destiny to fall before my feet and kneel. It is not ‘control’ if you humans' very existence is to naturally subjugate.”
“I don’t know about you, but that sounds awfully a lot like a dictatorship.”
Loki didn’t respond, he only sneered at Peter and equipped a face of disgust when he referred to him as a dictator. Peter’s gaze sneaked over to the cuffs trapping the god’s hands in a tight hold, his fingers flexing around in his palms to release tension. The handcuffs looked incredibly breakable compared to someone who could perform magic, the grey of the metal wearing the S.H.I.E.L.D eagle reminded Peter that a human force had captured someone of a different planet more advanced than them. It only made Peter push further in his questioning.
“Let’s say that you did save me from the fall, that you could perform magic without your staff and it’s powerful enough to prevent death. If all of that is true, why haven’t you broken free yet? Why do you still let yourself be captured when you can easily escape with your magic?”
“I did not prevent death, I had only manipulated your webs so that they are stabilised and reinforced. The force of your body weight falling from the jet should’ve overpowered the strength of one thin artificial webbing without supernatural intervention.”
“You’re dodging my question, it doesn’t matter if you had actually saved me or not. Why are you still captured when you can easily break the cuffs?”
“You are naive-“
“Answer the question,” Peter grew irritated when the god had called him naive. He wasn’t, the innocent boy that he had outgrew years after was gone, he had learnt to not misplace his trust so blindly, so stupidly. Peter didn’t know whether Loki had saved him from death or not, but he did know that he was toying with him, manipulating him in the hopes of, what? To get Peter on his side? It didn’t matter, Peter didn’t matter compared to what he knows Loki is planning.
Loki smirks, “You are more insightful than I had thought, Spider-Man. You hide behind the actions from your teammates, you pretend to join them as they come and battle me but you lurk in the shadows all while they think they claimed victory. It’s clear to me now that you know there’s more coming, that when they bring me back to your headquarters it’s only one step more from achieving my plans. The moment you allow me to step foot on your land, you give me free rein to release a monster.”
Peter shifts uneasily, as helpful as all of that was, it’s also very cryptic. He wasn’t expecting Loki to tell him all of his grand plans, but the only thing he had gotten out of his speech was that it only confirmed Peter’s theory. That Loki still had one more trick up his sleeves, he saw the smugness practically radiating off of Stark knowing that he had successfully captured the god, well now Peter knows that they had only given him a helping hand. One thing he knows is that all this time they had thought putting Loki in handcuffs would put an end to his tyranny, but it had only been the start.
“Why would you tell me this? Just because I asked very politely doesn’t seem like a very likely reason. There’s no advantage for you here, you’ve only revealed your schemes to the other side, how does it benefit you?”
“I had barely scraped the surface of ‘revealing my schemes’ to you, I had only told you what you’ve already suspected of me. You inspected me throughout the whole ride in the jet, I’ve seen how you were suspicious ever since the start. And I’ve seen your teammates, they don’t believe in you, they think you’re just a sidekick Fury recruited out of pity. Even if you recount every word that has come out of my mouth, they will laugh, they will think they are better. Tell me, why would they believe that the sworn enemy told you, of all people, about his plans?”
A thunderous clang shattered their conversation, Peter failed to respond when his attention was caught from below them where Stark, Captain America and Thor were all scattered across the grounds. Clouds of dust and dirt exploded from the point of a shield and a hammer, tufts of foggy air flew out in rings of circles that had even reached Peter. Branches and sticks dropped down from when the collision caused the surrounding trees to crack in the trunks, all falling away as if years of growing from a little sapling were for nothing and were to be destroyed in a mere second.
Peter could hear Captain Rogers declaring for peace and ordering them to retreat back to the quinjet, glancing up to the sky to spot the aircraft landing unsteadily down to the area where they had fought previously. He hears Loki sigh beside him, “I quite enjoyed our short-lived conversation. I do wish you the best of luck in convincing the rest, however I assure you that your efforts will go unnoticed,” he ended mockingly before standing up.
Peter assisted him to return back to the quinjet along with the others, being the last one to enter the hatch before it automatically closed. He spaced out the mutterings and chattering from everyone around him during the flight back, no matter how much he wanted to forget what Loki had assured him on, it seemed to be the only thing remaining in his otherwise blank mind. When Peter had turned around to spy on Loki for one last time, he had only shuddered when the corners of the god’s mouth lifted in a subtle smile.
Notes:
I just wanted to clear some things up real quickly: the Loki part is entirely up to interpretation. Whether you want to view it that he saved Peter or not doesn’t really make a difference in the story, I just kind of thought it would be fun to add in the middle of the night. Also Peter having extreme plot armour if he does manage to survive the fall by himself, but again, it shouldn’t matter which way you want to see it as. I’ve later realised it would be more realistic if Nat just flew them down using the quinjet instead of Peter making the impulsive and out of character decision to literally free fall down to the ground but I was already too lazy to change it at that point. I personally don’t know Loki’s character that well and I’m fully aware that he was being controlled, however I hope that it still kind of at least makes a bit of sense :)
Chapter 11: Chapter 11
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Incase it’s unclear, if you try to escape, if you so much as scratch that glass, it’s 30,000 feet straight down in a steel trap,” Peter, Natasha, Dr. Banner, Thor and Captain Rogers all gathered around the conference table back on the helicarrier, looking downwards on the projector screen playing Fury’s and Loki’s interaction.
Somehow, the god knew that he was being overlooked, he knew that he was a danger being kept on the ship and that a multitude of cameras were hidden in the cellar all for the one purpose of keeping him intact.
Peter observed how Natasha was focusing intently on the screen and how she seemed to be the only one starting to realise something was incredibly wrong, somewhere during Loki’s grand speech Peter glanced over to his side to spot her face had included furrowed eyebrows and a contemplative glint.
Out of everyone around the table, Peter would’ve thought it would be Dr. Banner who had caught the unnerving way of how Loki still displayed an air of arrogance and egotism.
However, throughout the play through of the recording the man was unfocused, a glassy look took over his eyes as if his attention was on something else entirely. Peter had a nagging feeling that he couldn’t quite figure out what it was, he was sure that whatever had him so preoccupied somehow connected everything together, Dr. Banner’s unusual absentminded behaviour played a role in all of this.
Whatever it was. Peter just doesn’t know how to prove it. How is Dr. Banner’s presence involved with Loki… how does he interlink everything for Loki’s plan?
“He really grows on you, doesn’t he?” Peter was snapped out of his own thoughts when the said man he was just overthinking about broke the silence after the recording finished. He glanced over to Natasha, finding her lips pressed tight together in a close knitted line.
She was catching on quick, if only Peter could confine her into what he already knew so that they could work together. Unfortunately, there was not a single person he trusted on this ship, and Natasha was one of them.
Peter dragged himself back to his thoughts, repeating the words Loki had said to him just a few hours ago when everything had seemed to be going so smoothly. He knows that Loki was undoubtedly planning something where Fury had thought the god could never escape, the cage had seemed pretty impenetrable, dropping thousands of feet down was a good safety precaution if he ever tried to make a move.
Which means that Loki wouldn’t physically try to escape whilst trapped, what little magic he could perform wouldn’t be enough to penetrate the glass. If anything, he should be thinking outside the box…
Peter’s eyes widened. That was it, Loki’s grand plan was to think outside of the box, literally. The god was never going to escape by himself, he needed something that could bring enough chaos to the ship which could crumble the thin thread holding their team together, something that could distract the one force stopping Loki from escaping.
The sceptre he possesses practically radiates gamma radiation to the point where Peter’s enhanced senses could pick it up just by close proximity, and there was only one person in the room who was attracted by gamma and also happens to have a raging temper.
Standing up straight, Peter completely disrupted the flow of the conversation between Thor and the rest. Natasha glanced up at him curiously, as if she had already figured out what’s been roaming through his head since the fly back on the quinjet.
Peter was about to reveal his big realization when, of course, Stark entered the room with an air of smugness and confidence that he despised. He could tell that the billionaire was about to open his mouth when that was the last thing anyone wanted, so Peter interrupted him.
“Someone get Dr. Banner off this ship right now before we all get too ahead of ourselves.”
Silence. Then, “Who are you again?”
Peter slowly turns to face Stark, seeing the man raising an eyebrow and scanning him up and down. He might now be very fond of Stark, but he has to admit that the man could be intimidating when he wants to be.
Besides, one of the world’s most influential people was standing across from Peter who happens to be the complete opposite, a high school student with an attendance rate of less than 60%. It was good that his costume includes a mask, if otherwise, everyone would see right through the brave demeanour he created for himself.
“If you don’t mind, Stark, try not to make yourself the center of attention when there are greater things at hand.”
The man looked indignant, stepping forward to put up a show of intimidation when Dr. Banner barged in, “Wait, wait, wait. Why do I need to get off this ship? I think that’s the urgent question here.”
“Because, Dr. Banner, Loki’s going to use you for his plan which all of you seem to be so oblivious to.”
Captain Rogers now appeared beside Peter and peaked at him with deep confusion, “I don’t understand, Loki is securely stored inside a cage while we, Dr. Banner, locate the Tesseract. Any chances of Loki engaging with him are near impossible.”
“Captain, I’m sure you’re a smart man to be able to lead a team of soldiers through the battles of World War Two, you will have to realise that capturing Loki with a threat of a missile pointed at him is all too easy. Think about it, there are two people on this ship with an IQ above 150, something must’ve clicked the moment you all allowed Loki to enter the ship.”
“With the way you’re speaking, I’m going to have to assume you’re referring to yourself as one of those people. What would you know, Spider-Boy? Everything is smooth sailing this point forwards, Loki is captured securely in a cage armed for the Hulk while me and Dr. Banner are tracking the Tesseract,” Stark is face to face with Peter now, glaring at him as if he thought himself to be above him.
“That’s the point, having Banner near any of Loki’s magic anchors is already a threat worth considering at the very least, no offence, Doctor. A self proclaimed genius like you should realise that Loki is the god of mischief according to Norse mythology, he can get into our heads in a way we wouldn’t know until he already manipulated one of us to get what he wants. And if not, then all of us. Banner is a liability to have while Loki’s sceptre is just lying around the lab, whatever is in that thing pours out enough gamma radiation to lure the Hulk out of Banner.”
“Dr. Banner won’t be close enough to Loki for him to even try controlling the Hulk,” Fury strides over to Peter.
“Are any of you even listening to me right now? I think I just said that having Banner around any ‘magic anchors’ is a threat, which means the literal sceptre you have him inspecting? Hello? The very sceptre that’s the key to controlling any individual Loki pleases? Agent Barton’s already living proof that he’s very well capable of playing mind games on people to the point where they obey his orders like a slave, the Hulk will be even more tempted to lash out when met with a mind controlling stick that practically screams ‘touch me’!”
“How do you even know that the Hulk is what Loki is after?” Stark presses on. Now with everyone’s full attention on Peter, he felt small, tiny compared to the weight of their gaze. He was surrounded, but he had to let them see reason, for them to so blindly fall for Loki’s plan was for them to let the god proceed one step further in his world domination.
“It’s obvious. We all saw the smirk Loki had on while Fury was explaining to him with one flick of a switch he could send him flying down 30,000 feet. Loki isn’t a person to give up so easily, there’s always another plan when it comes to someone like him, and this is the plan. The sceptre is a snare trap he placed and Banner is the victim, our conflict is just the bait.”
“Dr. Banner will only serve his purpose here when he finds the Tesseract, he won’t be going anywhere,” Fury reasons with Peter. Completely ignoring how he just said the sceptre is very capable of mind controlling almost anyone.
“It’s better to just set Banner far away from the sceptre to eliminate any chances of Loki being able to do anything. I’m sure Stark is already enough to track the Tesseract, we don’t need the Hulk on a flying ship where we can all go crashing down if the guy ever decides to come out. Whether you think you have the Hulk all figured out, Doctor, we can’t risk ignoring the fact that you are dangerous and a threat to even be on here right now.”
“It is a chance I’m willing to take if it means we secure the Tesseract safely in our hands before anyone else with an ideal similar to Loki’s gets it first. The Hulk hasn’t made an appearance for months now, I’m sure being around a magical sceptre won’t suddenly trigger him.”
The Captain interrupts Peter before he can carry on, “We don’t have any solid proof that Loki is planning something bigger that could potentially involve the Hulk, and having Dr. Banner on the ship is an asset in finding the Tesseract faster when that’s his field of expertise. However I can understand your view point worrying about the Hulk lashing out, I think it’s fair to consider the dangers of keeping him on the ship. Us arguing won’t be a help if we want to locate the Tesseract as efficiently as possible.”
“Finally, someone that can understand-“
“Loki is always planning something even when there seems to be no escape. The Man of Spiders is right if we think he has just simply given up,” Thor’s booming voice cuts of Peter. He admittedly almost forgot that the god was here considering he was silent during their argument when his presence says otherwise.
“It doesn’t matter what Spider-Man thinks unless there’s clear evidence that Loki is planning something, removing Banner from the ship will only set us back if locating the Tesseract is our first and foremost priority.”
Peter scrunches his eyes together in frustration. What was Fury not getting!? It was all laid out in front of him for him to understand that Loki practically gave himself up over to us if it meant also placing the sceptre on board.
They were fooled if they thought they really captured a thousands of years old god in a matter of a few minutes, idiotic even. Peter explained, describing it as if they were all toddlers that the same sceptre that controlled Barton and Selvig was the key in unleashing the Hulk, what could a teenager realise that 6 other adults couldn’t?
“I don’t think we should be focusing on Loki. That guy’s brain is a bag full of cats, you could smell crazy on him,” Dr. Banner spoke while playing with his glasses as if it was a fidget toy.
“Take care of how you speak, Loki is beyond reason, but he is still of Asgard. And he is my brother,” Thor glared at Dr. Banner with a protective tone while talking about Loki. It’s clear that he still cares about his brother even when Loki does not, Peter wonders if Thor knows that who he considers is his sibling had just told a complete stranger that they will never be a ‘true family’.
“He killed 80 people in two days,” Natasha was the last to speak in the room, the only one who was still sitting down in front of the conference table playing the footage of Loki and Fury over and over again quietly.
“He’s adopted.”
“Wait, can we go back to things at hand right now? Like how you’re all ignoring my reasoning with Loki’s sceptre and letting your obliviousness blind your common sense?” Peter bravely puts a hand up to stop Banner from carrying on to another conversation.
“What’s decided is decided, Spider-Man,” Fury finished off the conversation, refusing for anyone to continue on. At the corner of his eye, Peter could see Stark smirking arrogantly.
Fury was a man that would do anything to achieve his end goal, Peter had found that out just movements after they exchanged their first words. And in this case it seems that taking the possibility of leading everyone currently doing their job peacefully on the ship to an evitable death was one of them.
Peter could try telling them Loki had told him directly that he was planning something, but something tells him that all they will do is put down the idea as if he was delusional. He can’t even blame them for thinking that way, he can blame them for not welcoming the thought of Loki mind controlling Banner, sure, but even Peter thought it was almost like a fever dream.
Was he upset and disappointed that they had thought him incompetent? Yes. But Peter had tried, persuasion was important if you wanted to convince, however there was no point to convince if a person only sees themselves as capable.
Stark and Fury were set in their views, it was clear the billionaire didn’t think him smart enough to figure out Loki, if it was anyone else he might’ve listened but it seems that Peter’s hatred for the man was mutual. And as for Fury, fearing the loss of the Tesseract because it was dangerous isn’t why he wants to find it, it’s because he saw the potential in it to gain for his own advantage.
The man is selfish, and he doesn’t care if people die along the way if it’s to get what he wants.
So there really wasn’t a point in him staying here, he can try again and again to change their minds, but he can serve a bigger purpose elsewhere than on this ship sitting down waiting for Banner to do his wonders. Everyone else here is useless save for the scientist and maybe Stark, they’ve ‘successfully’ captured Loki meaning that Peter’s work here is done, he can leave whenever he wants.
Back down on Queens’ streets Peter can actually protect people productively instead of being on the helicarrier, here he was saving no one but in his neighbourhood, he can save people from real crimes still passing by as Peter keeps prolonging his stay here.
“Well, if you don’t mind then, I’ll be leaving as soon as I can,” Peter smiles under his mask, looking Fury directly in the eye.
“Excuse me?”
“If you won’t listen to me then I guess you really think this is the end of Loki’s world domination. And that’s what all of us are here for, right? To capture Loki. So according to you, we’ve already done that. I’ll even ask politely, please drop me off back in New York as soon as possible,” Peter walks up to Fury nearing his personal space, lacing his words with a bittersweet tone.
“The moment you picked up the phone is the moment you’ve decided to help S.H.I.E.L.D. Leaving this all behind won’t change anything except for making you look like a petulant child.”
“Quite frankly, I think I recall us having this little meet up at the local Mexican restaurant where we talked all about me not joining your initiative. I’m pretty sure I was clear on my conditions on not being controlled by an agency, Spider-Man’s still independent at the end of the day and just because I agreed to lend a helping hand doesn’t mean I joined your group of pretend do-gooders. I’ve tried telling you Loki tricked you by leading his trap straight into the ship but it’s clear your head is too thick to understand that you got deceived, so unlike you guys I do still have people to save.”
“That’s great and all, Spider-Man, and I was even starting to consider us as friendly acquaintances at the most. Us disagreeing just looks to be in our nature, but how are you planning to get off this ship because we are certainly not landing just because your bug brain feels like it.”
“Oh, don’t worry Nick, we’ll get there someday. If you want to be friendly then I guess you have to know that I am very capable in stealing a jet,” Peter smirked over at Fury’s incredulous face. They might be joking again after their argument but sooner or later they’ll know he’s right, Fury might think that this was just a small disagreement but he’ll discover that this could be his biggest mistake ignoring Peter.
He sneaked a glance towards Natasha’s direction, the only other person who had caught on to Loki as well, only to find her seat was empty and the door leading to the corridors opened.
-
Peter sorted himself back into Midtown, ignoring the looks from his classmates in the science room currently filled with overwhelming fumes and gases intoxicating up the air. It’s no secret that he’d disappeared for days with no warning, it wasn’t completely out of the blue seeing as he’d been skipping periods more often than not in order to stop a bank robbery or a fire breakout days on end, but this time it’s been almost a week.
However, still not long enough to warrant attention. So Peter can confidently say that he was more than a bit shocked when walking through the student body attracting curious glances.
Peter never thought his classmates would even spare him a chance of a passing look and instead continue to murmur on with their own friends, but now even Flash had stopped himself from picking on Peter and reduced himself into a quiet observing.
It was almost unnerving. Peter weaved through the desks holding multiple test tubes and platters of samples, being careful to avoid a particularly interesting colour liquid steadily fizzing up in a measuring cup. He cautiously reached the end table thankfully with MJ and Harry busying themselves with their own experiments, heads bent together and oblivious to his arrival.
“Hey, what are you all doing?”
Harry flinched unceremoniously, almost knocking over his iodine drop if it wasn’t for Peter catching the bottle from crashing to the floor and sliding it back on the wooden table. He raised an eyebrow at his friend, confused as to why a usually put together Harry was acting eccentrically, “Peter, man, you have to stop sneaking up on me like that. You know that I don’t react well to being surprised.”
“Uh, as far as I’ve known you for the last few years you’ve never really told me that you didn’t like being surprised. I also happen to remember that one time on your 13th birthday you practically smashed your head into the roof when we surprised you with a secret party your Dad was totally against.”
“You’re totally lying. That never happened.”
Peter glanced towards an unbothered MJ who still had her head bent on whatever they were testing, her face set in a concentrated state as if she already blocked out their bantering. Or she could just as well be ignoring them for the sake of her own well-being, the two possibilities had an equal chance of occurring when it came to her.
“Hey, MJ, do you remember that happening?” Peter smirked while questioning her, looking sideways to spot a nervous Harry shaking his head while mouthing ‘no’s’.
“I don’t think I care enough to answer that if it means boosting either one of you’s egos,” Peter only smiled at her antics, knowing she herself also wore a small smile creeping on to her stoic face.
“I know, how about we set this aside and overcome it with our deep sense of maturity and respect for each other," Harry flung an arm around Peter and patted him on the shoulder, “It’s good to have you back, Petey. You know Ned’s been freaking out about you since you left without a warning, I had to literally hold him back from emailing your school account because you weren’t responding to his texts.”
MJ lifted her head and smirked at Harry, pointing a scalpel at him threateningly, “You can’t say anything, Harry. You were worried out of your mind when Peter sounded like he was on a jet half way to south Germany and hung up on you after 20 minutes of you babying him.”
Peter squirmed awkwardly around Harry’s tight hold, it was scary how MJ could sometimes say things so accurately that could even bring up the possibility of her being psychic around firm non-magic believers. He didn’t bother trying to joke his way out of this conversation and subtly manoeuvre their topic on to something else, settling to just leaning his body weight against Harry.
Gosh, Peter never fully realized how long of a week he had just endured. Worst part is that he couldn’t even confide in his best friends for solace, venting about his uneventful meeting with freaking Nick Fury and Tony Stark isn’t exactly a very normal teen angst experience.
Harry didn’t bring up how Peter seemed more tired than usual, and especially not about him initiating a surge of physical contact and affection. His friends were one of the only few people he could comfortably surround himself with hugs and hand holding.
Harry had long adapted to him shying away from touch since their first encounter, no doubt slowly warming up to his soon to be best friend and eventually opening himself up to MJ and Ned as well. Now it was common for them to give Peter hugs seemingly for no reason at all, lately he was beginning to start initiating them first too.
Peter didn’t know why he was so reluctant to physical touch, he had a sinking feeling that it was linked with all the loved ones he had lost during his childhood that it ended up affecting how he interacted with others now. His subconsciousness was afraid of losing any more people he cares about.
Opening a way for affection would be the first sign of someone truly feeling safe around someone, and to feel safe was to accept your care, and accepting your care means you allow one more person into a future of grief when you inevitably lose them again. Maybe that’s why he was so hesitant, he can’t lose someone he cares about if there wasn’t anyone to care about at all.
Peter knows it was a depressing way to think, but there wasn’t a way to change it unless he knows for certain he can protect them from anything. And that was practically impossible. He flinched when he finally snapped back to the present and found MJ waving her hand around in front of his face with an amused expression on her own.
Peter realises that he’d practically dozed off on Harry for what must’ve been a while now, glancing up at him to hopefully not see him sheepish, but his face was set in an unreadable emotion that Peter had no chance of understanding. He sorted to start up a conversation again.
“Say… why’s everyone staring at me? I didn’t know I was the new talk in school.”
“Dunno, I think it might be because everyone in our class thought you were finally dead.”
“Finally? Thought we were friends MJ,” Peter feigned an exaggerated upset pout, putting his hand on his heart pretending he was hurt.
MJ only rolled her eyes and focused back on dissecting whatever she had on a small plate. Seriously, what was everyone even doing here? Harry’s and MJ’s combination of an unrecognisable meat-like thing that looked like it was pulled straight out of the dumpster with a bottle of iodine and a pH indicator at the side didn’t really add up to any science experiments they’ve learnt throughout school.
Looking around, no one seemed to be doing any practical work that even looked to be somewhat normal or related to their current science topic. And where was the teacher anyway?
“No, idiot. Everyone somehow pieced two and two together with you ditching school every now and then and you sometimes not even coming in for a whole day to the idea that you were on your deathbed and needed emergency medical checkups. They probably concluded that with you not being here for nearly a week meant you finally took your last breath.”
“Oh.”
Harry snorted, “Is that really all that you have to say?”
“I’m still processing the fact that everyone most likely thought I had cancer or something. I get why even Flash was eyeing me skeptically, he probably celebrated hours on end and threw a massive house party with a banner on his front porch saying ‘Parker’s dead!’ Only to then find out the person he’s been bullying his whole life found a way to come back from the dead and haunt him as a ghost forever. I should pretend that I’m his guardian angel, that’ll really freak him out,” Peter paused slightly, ”Wait, if people thought I had cancer, does that mean I’m balding? Oh no.”
Peter’s rambling brought a renewed laugh to his friends, he can’t help but smile to see the people he loves most happy. Their happiness would no doubt not last very long when the alien invasion comes at any second, it could even be now.
Peter doesn’t mind being wrong, he knew that he was at least 98% right on the fact Loki wanted Dr. Banner to bring out the Hulk, nothing went against that; but if somehow Fury and Stark were right after all, Peter would most definitely breathe a sigh of relief.
If they were right and they had actually successfully captured Loki, then everything would eventually be the same again with Peter’s routine of Spider-Maning settling to a norm again. But they weren’t, and Peter had to do something about it.
“Hey, uh, do you ever get this feeling when you just know everything’s about to go to shit maybe in a couple of hours or so? Yeah, I’m feeling that right now and it’s pretty strong, so strong that I’m almost certain that my intuition is right.”
“Like Spider-Man? With his, what’s it called, spider senses or something. I think I read somewhere that he has this thing that literally tells him about the future,” MJ said offhandedly. Little does she know, her psychic powers had worked again and caused Peter to tense at the mention of his alias. No doubt Harry felt him going rigid under his arm, hopefully he doesn’t question too much on it; he’s smart, one way or another his friends are going to find out eventually, Peter just hopes it won’t be so soon.
“Sure, like Spider-Man. I’m being dead serious though, I’ve been having some dreams lately-“
“Gross, Peter! No one wants to hear about your wet dreams-“
“These aren’t wet dreams!” Peter shouted indignantly, albeit a bit too loud. Attracting desperately unwanted attention from some girls in front of them chattering idly before he practically announced his night time activities to them, Peter mustered all his hatred in his glare to Harry who only looked proud of himself.
“Anyway, as I was saying before Harry so nicely interrupted me, I’ve been getting this same dream over and over again for nights. It’s sort of like an alien invasion, but worst,” Peter noticed MJ’s skeptical looks but carried on with some wild hand motions, “Imagine aliens controlled by this guy with a green cape and a scary glowing staff. Yeah, I just know that’s gonna happen in like a day or two. Actually, I’m very positive it’s gonna happen today.
“You’re crazy.”
“Just trust me.”
The bell rang signalling the end of their period, the rustling of his classmates started up as they all tried to pack away their monstrous creations made in their individual experiments, eventually scattering away until there was only Flash and his friend left.
Peter hurriedly threw on his own bag and impatiently waited for Harry to throw away the meat-like thing with the tip of his index and thumb, wretching over-exaggeratedly at it as he threw it in the bin. Him and MJ both left the room with Harry trailing behind them until he caught up and cut through between the two.
“Petey, I always knew you were going to start getting sleep paralysis one day. It’s only just a matter of time before they call you into the psych wards.”
“Listen, I know you both think I’m just joking for the fun of it, but I’m serious, something is coming and I need you two to stay safe, okay? Tell Ned too when you find him,” Harry quietened down when he caught sight of Peter’s serious tone. Glancing at him worriedly while MJ only studied him as if he’d grown a pair of antennas from the past few days he was gone. If they don’t try to hide away when the time comes then Spider-Man will do it himself, secret identity damned or not.
Notes:
Hey everyone! Sorry for the late update again, school just started so I’ll try to find my way back to *hopefully* writing everyday. And this chapter is a bit on the shorter side and it’s a bit anticlimactic (in my opinion) but it’s what I think is most realistic and Peter-like, if you guys know what I mean :)
Also, I just wanted to say that I do read your comments and I’m so happy to see that a lot of you appreciate this story, it genuinely makes my day!! 💞
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