Poisoned and Taken Part I
***2 days later***
Stephen awoke to the incistent sound of beeping fulling a large otherwise silent room in which he lay. Groggily he sat up as flashes of the fight came back to him: them being cornered by Hydra Agents, them bein overpowered, Spider-Man showing up… Spider-Man had shown up. Something was off about this all. After Spider-Man he didn’t remember much, just Clint’s worried face begging him to stay awake, begging him to not leave. Ha! As if Clint could get rid of him: after all weeds hardly ever wilt.
As he sat on the bed pondering over what had come to pass, the door the medical room in which he had been situated opened, and Bruce sauntered in. Bruce looked up at the bed, not seeming surprised that Stephen had woken up: ‘Morning.’ he greeted catually, walking over to a tray close-by.
‘Morning.’ Stephen greeted back, then cocked his eyebrows, ‘How long have I been out for?’
‘Two days, much longer than Thor I must say. He gave us quite the pain when he decided to fire himself from his hospital bed. It took the combined force of Bucky, Steve, Sam, Tony, Clint and Nat to get him back in. Also Morgan glaring at him might have helped significantly.’ Bruce added with a chuckle, making Stephen give him a half smile. ‘Anyway, as a doctor yourself you know the procedure: gonna check your eyes and what not with what feels like a laser. So much fun.’ Bruce quipped happily.
He shone a white light in Stephen’s eyes, who had to do his utmost best not to close them, then stepped back satisfied as the former rubbed at his irritated eyes. Bruce chatted to himself under his breath then suddenly feigned punching Stephen, who caught his hand with his own. Bruce smiled: ‘Well, reflexes still work!’ he noted happily.
‘With my injuries there was never any doubt, Bruce.’ Stephen grumbled at his friend, who just cracked a smile and checked the other’s injuries. After 5 minutes he smiled:
‘All’s well that ends well: you can leave this bed if you want. Or stay in it: there’s an ongoing war in the common room which I think you would not want to participate in.’ Bruce informed him helpfully.
Stephen chuckled: ‘What are the teams?’
‘Team Cap, Team Ironman, Team Black Widow and Team Please-Don’t-Kill-Me.’ Strange huffed at the last one and asked for Bruce to eleborate on who was on which team. ‘Well, Team Cap has Steve, Sam, Bucky, Thor and Clint. Team Ironman has Tony, T’Challa - he’s visiting by the way - , Morgan, Wanda and Pietro. Team Black Widow has Nat and Okoye. She refused any people on her team you see, though she has stated if Spidey happens to show up he is more than welcome to join her team. And then the Please-Don’t-Kill-Me Team has Scott and Pepper on it, the latter of whom is trying to get Morgan to stop siding with her dad.’ Bruce elaborated in extense, making Strange’s mind work overtime to remember who was on which team.
‘What are they fighting about anyway?’
Bruce rolled his eyes: ‘Team Cap thinks cereal is not soup, Team Ironman thinks it is just to be annoying, Team Black Widow just wants to beat people up and the Please-Don’t-Kill-Me Team just wants to eat their cereal in peace.’ Strange chuckled and Bruce decided to add more information: ‘Oh and whenever someone hurts Nat she complains that she is pregnant. No one wants to fight her anymore but she will fight them nonetheless.’
Strange guffawed at this: ‘Only she would use pregnancy as an excuse to beat people up, though I think someone should tell her not to fight whilst pregnant.’
‘Be my guest.’
Strange smiled: ‘I’ll get Buck to give me Spidey’s phone number: she’ll probably not beat him up when he suggests it.’
‘What makes you think he would agree with us?’ Bruce questioned quizzically, making Strange scrunch up his eyebrows:
‘Oh, he won’t, but he trusts the doctor’s opinions when it comes to others so he’ll tell her anyway, blame us, and tell her that we have been hasseling him and she needs to stop fighting. Then she’ll get mad at us etc etc.’
‘Okay, let’s not ask Spider-Man then.’ Bruce laughed.
‘About him: how is he faring?’
‘I suppose well, we haven’t seen him since then, though he was reported to have been slinging around Queens sluggishly an hour ago.’ Bruce answered with a shrug as he tossed Strange some normal people clothes to replace the hospital gown.
‘Sluggishly? Doesn’t sound like him.’ Strange stated, as he pulled the shirt over his head.
‘I know: it’s weird, I have no clue why he was swinging so slowly, maybe a lot of homework from MIT.’
‘I suppose,’ Strange answered, already having checked the team’s folder named: What we know about Spider-Man, which was how he knew about MIT. They all accessed it whenever Spidey had shown up and written more down. They had a bet on of who could figure out his secret ID first. ‘Though to be fair: he seems to be the kind of person who would finish a 2 hour essay in 10 minutes.’
Bruce shrugged: ‘Just a wild guess.’
—----------------------------------------------5 hours later—-----------------------------------------------------
The Avengers were all - with the exception of Thor, Scott, Wanda, Pietro, T’Challa and Okoye, who had gone into town for some fun time - seated around the debriefing table, which was this time the coffee table by the TV. Nick Fury and Agent Hill were also present, as they questioned Strange and Thor about the events. When this was done, their attention turned to Spider-Man:
‘Has he called yet in the last 2 days?’ Nick Fury asked, absentmindedly of Sam and Bucky, who both shook their heads.
Tony was sitting back as he stared into space, causing Nick to look at him in an annoyed fashion: ‘Earth to Ironman,’ he shouted, scaring the poor man half to death, making him half-leap up in the air. His teammates chuckled as Nick glared at him, ‘What is so important that you feel no need to pay attention to this debriefing?’
Tony flushed: ‘Nothing.’ he answered shortly.
‘Daddy’s a liar!’ Morgan shouted from the other end of the room, making Tony glare at her, sending her non-verbal communication to please shut up. Which she naturally did not do, as she was his daughter: ‘Daddy’s worried about Petey.’ Morgan clarrified.
Natasha sat up from where she had been staring into space, making Tony envious: he wished he could stare into space like that and not get reprimanded. Though in all fairness, Nick knew that if she was doing that, she had good reasons, whilst with Tony it was usually that he was bored/uninterested/lazy.
‘What do you mean Morgan?’ Natasha asked softly, though her teammates couldn’t help notice the underlying worry and urgency in her voice, ‘Why is daddy worried about him?’
‘He didn’t show up for work, Auntie Nat.’ Morgan explained, ‘Not for twoooooo days.’ she stretched her arms as she showed Nat how many days, the latter paling slightly. ‘He’s also not seen on cameras, and daddy doesn’t know where he lives. He won’t pick up his phone. Daddy says Petey needs to get a fomo. What’s a fomo, Auntie Nat?’
‘It’s what your dad has when it comes to the coffee machine being worked.’ Nat replied quickly, stilling Morgan’s curiosity as she turned back to the team. Clint’s eyes widened slightly as he looked on her pale complexion and he quickly spoke up as he moved to her:
‘What’s wrong? Are you ill?’ He questioned, crouching down next to the bean bag she was sitting on. She shook her head, then turned to Bruce:
‘Didn’t you say Spider-Man was swinging, and I quote, sluggishly?’ Bruce nodded affirmation and Nat’s brows furrowed even further. ‘FRIDAY, play all news of the past two days of Spider-Man.’ she commanded the AI.
News reports flicked on on the screen of the TV and they all saw Spidey swinging slowly above the streets, not even shouting out in joy as was his normal wont, but just swinging. He swung non-rhythmatically, his joints looking stiff to the beholder as he slowly made his way towards the mugging. Slowly fought the robbers. Got punched several times in the gut, and then stumbled over his words as he talked with the commisioner on the phone.
Nat cursed as the news report came to a close, staring at the screen, then picking up her phone and pressing on a contact, called them. It rung. It rung. It rung.
No answer.
She called again. No answer. Again. No answer. Finally she threw down the phone in desperation, a tear streaking down her face as Clint’s eyes boggled out of his skull to see her so. He had been informed that pregnancy hormones make the usually calm spy have very clear emotions, but he hadn’t expected this!
He quickly moved to hug her as she sobbed into his shoulder, the others standing helplessly around them, unsure of what to do. Nick and Hill were talking in hushed tones, as well as Sam and Bucky, who were standing around with pale faces. When Nat had been calmed down slightly, Hill turned to her with a soft smile: ‘Nat, hey, are you listening?’ she asked kindly, receiving a nod, ‘What’s wrong, Nat? What’s going on? You’re freaking out on us.’
‘He-He’s not o-o-okay. I p-p-promised I would p-protect him and make him c-call me, but I forgot to check if he did! He was supposed to be okay. I was to make sure of it!’
Hill furrowed her brows: What was Nat saying? What was she talking about.
Bucky cleared his throat: ‘Would this be a great time to mention,’ he said with a fake smile, ‘That Sam, Nat and I think Spider-Man is sick and are worried and that also we may or may not know his secret identity?’
‘Great timing. Great timing indeed.’ Nick Fury spat, honouring his name with the glare he gave the two men, though refrained from glaring at Nat, who seemed to have enough problems without him glaring at her, ‘What has this got to do with the Peter kid?’ he asked, then let out and oh as he realised exactly what it had got to do with each other.
Tony too had realised it, and had paled significantly: ‘Spider-Man is overworked and hardly sleeps because he’s my personal intern?!’ he cried out. Then, ‘Spider-Man is 16?!’ then, ‘Oh my goodness is he okay?!’
The others would have looked at him in amusement at that moment, were it not for the fact that they had the exact same thoughts. Clint was the one to take the lead:
‘Okay, we know he hasn’t shown up as Peter since the hydra incident.’ he stated simply as he braided his wife’s hair in comfort, ‘Something must have happened. Tony, were you there for most of the fight?’
‘Yeah, I have footage.’ Tony told him, breathing heavily as he avoided a panic attack. Pepper walked over, telling Morgan to go play in her room and helped him calm down. Meanwhile, the TV played the footage.
‘Awh, did he draw blood?’ they heard one of the goons mock as he swung at Peter with a knife, which the other dodged.
‘Yes.’ Peter grumped conversationally.
‘Good, that was all I needed to hear.’ The man responded, then ran off, followed by his comrades as Spidey stood there for a few seconds, confusion evident even under his mask. He then shrugged his shoulders and ran afte them.
‘Zoom in on the knife the Hydra agent was holding.’ Hill commanded. Tony did so and they all gasped. The sharp edge was not normal iron colour. It had a distinct colour to it. It was the colour of copper having stood too long outside: green and blue at the same time.
‘He’s been poisoned.’ Steve breathed, staring at the screen, as horror gripped the whole team: Spidey had been poisoned. Two days ago. He had been walking around with poison in his system for two days. Two Whole Days.
—----------------------------------------Spidey POV—------------------------------------------------------------
Peter breathed in a ragged breath as he swung through New York, trying to ignore the pain in his… well everything really. He had been feeling so horrible since the hydra incident. He was also left confused as to why they had just run.
His spider sense tingled. Too late. He was hit. He dropped. Too fast. He hit the ground. Too hard. Men came up to him. Too close. The world buzzed. Too loud. A sack was put over his head. Too scratchy. A needle was pushed into his neck. Too painful. Sleep started gripping him. Too welcoming. He heard a voice. Too gruff. He was picked up. Too roughly. Sleep. Just want to sleep. Can’t sleep. Call Nat? Can’t call Nat. Lost phone during hydra attack. Need help. Help. Need help now. Sleep. No, no sleep! Sleep. Sleep. Okay, for a bit. Just for a bit: he slept.