Avengers Oneshots Ongoing

(Tony POV)

Let's just say I was stressed. Here was the Spider-Child, sitting in a chair, nicknaming people like there was no tomorrow, and then informing them that they were sued. Promptly getting his jaw dislocated.

Or as Pepper said it, once I had calmed down from my initial panic attack - okay i get those, get over it sheesh: 'He's really your child, you know that right?'

I laughed lightly, but it was very forced, which everyone noticed.

Soon enough Nick came forward with facial recognition of the woman, who apparently died 3 years ago.

'Doesn't look dead to me.' Nat commented, tear streaks still on her face, which we all acted like we couldn't see. (she was very specific about this since the pregnancy started, having punched Sam once when he asked her why she was so grumpy, was it the hormones? We all silently agree he deserved that and the rest of us would avoid the subject of emotions for the coming 9 months)

'Faked her own death back in 2022.' Agent Hill clarified, 'was imprisoned several times for assault and battery, and once for attempted murder. She quote en quote died in prison from the common cold.'

'Wow, if you fake your death, at least let it be dramatic!' Clint judged with a scoff, making Natasha's mood lighten up a bit. A wise choice I thought: murderous Natasha was not very cooperative.

'So, this is what we know:' Nick Fury stated, 'She is Evelynn Smith, born in 1995, current age is 30, no living family members, faked her death in 2022, is apparently violent and murderous, and she is a Hydra agent.' he paused as we all nodded, 'Also Peter should be taught that when kidnapped, insulting your kidnappers is not the way to go.' he stated simply, 'Bruce, can you watch the video again to see if his jaw is his only injury?'

'Already did. It is, if we are not counting the punches she gave him during the video, and the slaps to the face she gave him before.' he answered quickly, looking up from a list on his iPad. I scooched over a bit to see what it was named, and paled as I saw the Title: List of All of Spider-Man's injuries. Under which: dislocated jaw; bruising around abdomen from received punches.

He made a list. Bruce didn't deem lists with only a 2 or 3 items on them lists. He was expecting more to be added to the list. He expected Spidey to get hurt even more. I sucked in a breath, catching his attention and he smiled sympathetically:

'Hopefully I'll never need to add anything, Tones.' he told me softly, but the others notices. Coulson paled:

'You made a list?'

'Yeah.'

'Frippity-Frack-Frack.'

'Language.'

'It wasn't a curse word.'

'You guys replaced the f word with this, now this is a curse word.'

'Not how it works.'

'It does.'

'You're so old.'

'And still looking hot.'

'That's cold, almost just as cold as the ice that your frozen in for eighty years.'

The two continued to argue and I relaxed a bit: arguments were normal, a sense of normality was nice. The rest of us retreated into a corner to discuss. Nat ran SetUpSam's face through facial recognition to see if she had been spotted anywhere, whilst Hill tried to get a location on Spider-Man. Nick Fury informed us that the alien tech had already been destroyed after New York incident and some other terrorist organisation had demanded them in return for one of SHIELD's agents. They didn't want another situation like that. Evidently, SetUpSam did not know of this.

Nat and Hill worked furiously. And I just stood by. And did nothing. I was of no use at the moment. There was nothing that I could. Nothing but wait, and trust that everything would eventually turn out fine.

(Peter POV)

It was hour 4 since I had woken up. From what I had heard through my haze of pain, was that something was going to happen now. I massaged my aching jaw the best I could without the use of my hands. Scruffy Gruffy had set it about 2 hours ago, but it sitll hurt like crazy.

SetUpSam walked into the room, and once again the camera was put up, no curtain this time though. The camera clicked on: 'Welcome to episode one of Is He Alive or is he not?' SetUpSam cried cheerfully, making me look in dismay as I realised what was going to happen. Well, this wasn't good. To say it lightly.

'Now, you all had quite the wait to see this, or not: who know? Maybe you don't care enough to have even watched the first video.' My eyes narrowed at that as I frowned: that wasn't right, was it?

'Now, what happens, when I grab this iron bar, and hit it against his abdomen?' SetUpSam mused innocently, grabbing a metal pipe from the ground. I gasped just before I realised what she would do, but my realisation did not stop the screen that fell off of my lips as I was hit. Again. And Again. And again. She just kept on hitting. Didn't stop. I sobbed. I cried. But I didn't beg.

'You're a child, you don't even know what being a hero means, you couldn't tell me if I asked! Beg for me to stop and I will. All you need to do is beg before this camera!' she screamed at me. I wouldn't, I lifted up my head, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth:

'I would politely tell you no, since you're a lady, but you don't seem to qualify for that award.' I told her with a grin, and I was hit again, this time, she hit me with the pipe in the head. Everything went red, then black, then nothing.

---hour 8---

I was woken up roughly by Scruffy Gruffy and found the camera was already recording. I winced at I noticed that some of my ribs were oddly out of place - huh, wonder how that happened.

I looked up at SetUpSam, who was halfway in her sentence, 'This, New York is your infamous Spider-Man. A high schooler!' she cried out dramatically.

I cleared my throat to get her attention: 'Well, for you information,' I told her, surprised at how raspy my own voice was, 'I'm not a high schooler, I take online MIT classes. So that statement has been ruled incorrect, furthermore: what the heck you saying about New York? Also Capsicle, if you're watching this: that was not a bad word.'

She glared at me but humoured me as well, though I found out only to aggravate me and make me fear her. Which I did not. Well, maybe I did. But I wasn't going to admit that now was I:

'I decided to stream to the whole of New York. The whole world knows your secret identity now. Turns out SHIELD burned that alien tech that I wanted months ago.' She explained with a shrug. 'Oh little hero, how ironic: you probably don't even know what that is: let me tell you. A hero fights for what they want, no matter the cost.'

I smiled up at her: 'First of all: you expected them to still have that stuff? Secondly: dudeee, it was already embarrassing when you told my family that I had been kidnapped, you don't need to tell the whole of New York!' I elected to ignore her deffiniton of hero.

She frowned, 'Did you miss the part where everyone now knows your identity?'

I shrugged with a sheepish smiled: ´Hate to break it to you: but half of Queens already knows. Most higher up crooks know as well. The just respect me enough to not go blabbing it about. Like seriously SetUpSam, where's my due respect?'

'Shut up.' Scruffy Gruffy growled.

'Yes sir mister Scruffy Gruffy!' I answered politely. He stomped me in the face anyway. My face burned in pain, but I refused to gasp out: I wasn't about to be weak in front of New York, or let these Hydra idiots think I was breaking.

I felt horrible. My life was currently trash. Several of my ribs were either fractured, broken or displaced, and I was pretty sure some of the broken ones had healed incorrectly thanks to my healing factor. My eye now also throbbed from where it had been punched and I was sure that would bruise. Lastly, the final drop in the frying pan, my jaw still hurt from when it was dislocated 8 hours ago. I needed food: if I wanted my jaw and the rest to start healing, I needed food.

Right now though, I felt like I would throw it up again. Despite my bravour, sass, wit and overall comical behaviour, I was desperate inside. Was Tony coming? Were the Avengers going to come? Did they care? Doubt crept into my already sluggish mind when I asked myself that, but I shrugged it off: of course they would come. They were like family to me.

But was I like family to them?

'Wake up!' SetUpSam demanded of me, which was weird since I already was awake. Wait had I closed my eyes for a bit or something? She laughed at my confused face: 'You have been out of it for the last 5 minutes she commented.'

'Well, since you were probably talking, I must not have missed much.' I replied sweetly, earning me another punch to my face, and to the same eye. Now it was really going to bruise, my freaking out mind told me. I wish I could shut freak out me up: he was annoying and paranoid.

SetUpSam scowled at me: 'How do you feel about knives.'

'Ooh,' I told her excitedly - I just wanted a conversation you know, I also wanted to freak her out - : 'I collect knives, I always keep the knives I have been stabbed with: I have 54.'

She raised her eyebrows, then out of nowhere, stabbed a knife in my leg. My face fell as I screamed and sobbed out in pain, though I tried to hold them back. The tears streamed down my face. As I looked at the only thing still visible of the knife, which was the hilt. Dark spots started appearing in my eyes but I blinked them away, being able to finally focus on SetUpSam again through a haze of fog:

'...have broken Spider-Man.'

'Well, at least,' I rasped and coughed up blood. That wasn't good right? 'At least I'm not as broken as your humour.' I told her, a valiant but horrible attempt at and insult. Blame the blood loss.

She turned to me and smiled, whipping her hair drammatically behind her head: 'Mhh, talking about breaking stuff.'

'Breaking Bad?'

'What the heck is that?'

'A movie.'

'Do you ever shut up?' she was loosing her temper now, and her control. Which was not necessarily a good thing, but at least New York could see that I was still fighting, still pushing my antagonist to the edge of annoyance. At least they could laugh at my jokes. At least my jokes were now recorded. They would live on forever and ever. Whereas I... I wasn't sure if I would live to hit the supposed 36 hour mark. I didn't know if I would live past this hour mark at all.

All of this spun through my head in half a second, so to her, my surprise came swiftly: 'On ocassion, I consider my inability to keep my mouth shut one of my greatest strengths.' I smiled at her, though it was probably more of a grimace.

She started talking to the camera again, malice and revenge seeping through her words, but I caught none. My eyes were trained on the knife in my upper leg. Blood was oozing around the protruding hilt. I didn't even feel the pain anymore. I just felt numb. Sure, the pain was still there, but it was now constant, which helped me shove it to the background. The background in which I also shoved unwanted noises.

The noises! I focused on them. Walk. Walk. Walk. A voice said far off and far away, so softly I could barely make it out. It was constantly on the same tone level. The same volume. With a shock I realised what it was: a stoplight made for normal and also blind people. About 5 kilometres away, judging by how faint the sound was - I had gotten quite good at estimating distances by the sound of things.

I bit my lip as I fought back the nausea that washed over me as I looked up, straight at the camera. 'There is a blind-people-stoplight 5 kilometres from here.' I breathed, but just loud enough for the camera to catch it, 'It's one of those that goes....' I was about to elaborate, in case no one knew what it was, but was cut off as immense pain filled my right leg.

My head realed as all I could feel was pain. Screams get tearing out of my mouth as I gasped for air. Had she stabbed me again? I wanted to look, I really did. But I found that I couldn't. My eyes were open but I couldn't see. I faintly heard two people laugh. A pause in the talking. I lent to the side and threw up: I hoped I had hit Scruffy Gruffy with that, whom I last saw standing there. The entire contents of my stomach now lay on the floor, the sour smell filling my noise as I lent my head back against the chair, my eyes filled with tears. Sleep. I told myself. If I just sleep, I'll be fine. There is no pain in sleep. Only quiet. I slowly let my head sink, but not before I looked straight at the camera one last time, SetUpSam having turned to me, expecting me to say something stupid:

'Also,' I stuttered out, trying to sound stoic and brave, but knowing I didn't. I smiled as I continued, 'did you guys ever think about cereal? Technically it's a soup.' I told the whole of New York with a goofy smile. Then, not able to hold it any longer, I dry heaved to the side again, hacking for breaths. I closed my eyes and let my head sag, allowing my body to enter undesturbed peace.

---hour 12---

I woke up slowly at the sound of SetUpSam monologueing once again to the camera, but I heeded her not. Everything hurt. My right eye had swollen so much that I could no longer look out of it. My right leg was a mess: there was a knife in it, and from how it lay twisted, I was pretty sure she had broken it. My ribs ached dully, where normally they would have given me extreme pain, they now were the easiest to bare. Strange how in diffent circumstances, something can seem to hurt more or less than in others.

I finally decided to give SetUpSam some attention, listening attentively: '... so New York, we saw how valiantly you have been going around deaf-people-stoplight in a 5 km radius to find out where Spidey is being kept. Honestly: I'm surprised, I expected more of an uprage about his identity than that all of you collectively took a sick day and started looking for your hero!'

I bit back a smile as I heard her utter those words: Gosh I love New Yorkers. Sure, they casually walk around as aliens attach the city, not even heeding the danger, but when you really needed them, they would be there. I continued listening:

'Avengers, you haven't even been searching.' I raised my head quickly, making me feel dizzy when I heard that. She was lying right? There was no way they weren't looking for me! 'You just sit around in your tower and don't even care about this ...this hero as you call him. Does he mean nothing to you?' she asked the camera sardonically.

My eyes stung as I heard her words and I bit my lip. She was lying right? They care for me right? They were looking for me, just like the New Yorkers were. Right?

'Oh look at the doubt in Spidey's eyes,' the woman purred, the monster lifted my chin forcefully, forcing me too look at the camera, 'Say something Pete, say something to your so called friends.'

I smiled at her, then turned to the camera again: 'What's popping?!' I asked, 'Steve just said I got that reference, didn't he?' I added triumphantly, smiling from ear to ear, even though it hurt like pins and needles to do so.

She just smiled at him: 'If you beg for my mercy, I won't hurt you.' she told him, stroking his cheek. He cringed away from her touch, shooting her a venemous look:

'I'd rather die!' He bit back, trying his utmost best not to slur his words.

'You will.' she replied coldly. Then the torture started, and Peter could only catch flashes of what happened, his mind overflowing with his senses:

A pipe. A Knife. A punch. Kick. His pounding heartbeat. Too fast. Pain. Searing pain. Numb feeling. Sounds. Everywhere sound. Everywhere light. Everywhere danger. Danger. DANGER! Sound. Noise. Overwhelming noise. A truck passed. A motorcycle. Under a highway. The dripping of water in a sewer pipe. Sewage system flowing to his right. Sewage pipe to the left. He was in the sewage system.

The beating continued to come. There were 3 knives in his left leg. He no longer screamed. He no longer cried. He just stared down, muttering over and over again softly under his breath: 'I'm in the sewage system, it's under a highway. Probably the A12.'

The beating stopped: 'I broke him!' SetUpSam cried out triumphantly. 'I broke him! Speak up, and tell the world what you were muttering under your breath! Beg for my mercy out loud.'

He slowly lifted his head. His bloody head. Red everywhere. Black spots in his vision. His eyes locked onto the camera, though he could hardly see it through the blurry haze, then he spoke. His voice strong, his tone majestic, never wavering: 'I'm in the sewage system. Under a highway. Probably the A12.' 

She screeched a string of curses, having forgotten the camera totally: 'Abandon! Abandon! We need to leave!' she ordered the other crooks - how many guys were there? 'The Avengers could be here any second.'

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5d48mneTKng That just fit the scene so well tbh, I really sets the mood if you want that :) )

Peter smiled, then spoke softly to her, his voice calm: 'Of course they're coming, what did you expect lady? Unlike you: they're heroes, and heroes always do the right thing. You wanted to know what a hero is? Let me tell you: No matter what's going on in their own lives, they do the right thing. They fight for what they believe, not for what they want.' he chuckled humourlessly, 'You know what I want? I want to have a simple life. I want to live in an appartment that has more than one room. I want to get more than 3 hours of sleep every 24 hours. That's what I want. But I won't get it: because I'll be too busy doing the right thing, because I put the needs of others before mine.'

he grinned at her triumphantely: he had told her. He didn't know why he felt the need to do so. Or rather, he did: he knew he would die. Better to go out with a bang right?

He smiled up at her again as she stood frozen in place, at a loss for words as to how he was still speaking:

'You'll never win. Hydra will never win. No matter how many superheroes you kill. There will always be someone to take up the spot you opened up. Humanity will always fight back against evil, because that's what people do. That's what it means to be a hero: to fight back, no matter what the cost is to yourself; to help those in need, not caring what it does to you. It means to make sacrifes no one else will make. It means to be good. However easy it would to do bad, you do good: because that's what heroes do. You live in a crappy appartment because you can only get a half-time job because of patrolling. You starve half the time because of money issues. You get wounded on the daily. But you endure it: because what you do is right, because what you do matters more than personal comforts and your wishes. Saving people matters more than money.'

I gasped for breath as black spots danced around in my vision. She scoffed:

'You're an idiot.' she stated, then high tailed it out of there.

I looked up one last time, unconsciousness threatening to overtake me. The camera was still recording, though I could hardly make out the blur of it. I was going to die. I knew it. The ones watching it knew it. I smiled:

'Guys,' I breathed, 'I love you. Nat, name the baby something cool okay?' I coughed up some blood, closing my eyes to gather my countenance, 'And New York, it's been an honour to serve you.' I rasped out. The dark spots covered my vision. Everything was red and blurry, I looked up one last time: 'Put something stupid on my gravestone: I want future generations to have a laugh.' I told no one in particular, I coughed up more blood. Then, I sagged forward, letting everything drain from me: I had succeeded. I had told her what a hero was. I had held on. I hadn't begged. I had been a hero.

I looke up again and smiled at the camera. One last smile. One last breath. One last heartbeat. One last eye flutter.

Then his eyes closed, and stayed closed.