2
It took nearly six months before Steve finally called Tony, telling him Spider-Man had been caught. Tony took his sweet time heading down to the interrogation rooms - Steve was better at interrogating anyway, Tony was mostly there to supervise and keep track of the information they learned.
Once he arrived, Tony didn’t immediately look through the window. He hesitated, listening to Steve talk, but not looking to see the face of the murderer they’d been tracking.
“Look, kid,” Steve was saying, sounding exasperated. “You obviously didn’t come up with this whole thing yourself, and you’re obviously mutated. Why don’t you just tell us who you are, and who sent you, and we can be done with this?”
“Don’t I have a right to an attorney?” Spider-Man quipped.
Tony stilled. He recognized that voice. It wasn’t quite the same - it was deeper, rougher, less full of joy and laughter. But it was the voice, all the same.
Slowly, Tony turned towards the window, taking in the face of a mutated murderer they’d been tracking for months.
Taking in the older, slightly scarred, vaguely haunted face of his Peter.
–
-{}-{}-{}-
–
Seven was confused. And scared. The big blonde guy had been asking him questions for a long time. At first, Seven had refused to answer at all, trying to decide if this was some sort of test. He’d never been caught before, after all, and he figured the only people that could would be the people who trained him. Eventually, he decided that no, this guy probably wasn’t with the Red Room, because he was being way too nice even while throwing question after question at him.
Then, right after he’d decided to start being obnoxious, a voice in the ceiling spoke, saying someone named Tony was having a panic attack and was in need of assistance. The blonde guy left nearly thirty minutes ago, and wasn’t back.
Seven wasn’t sure how aware of his abilities these people were. The handcuffs they’d used were vibranium, so apparently they knew he was strong. They’d mentioned him climbing the walls, so they knew he was sticky. They hadn’t asked anything about the future or how smart or flexible he was, so they seemed unaware of that.
The door slammed open, and this time a dark haired man stormed into the room. He slammed his hands onto the table in front of Seven, obviously furious. The blonde man followed slightly behind.
“Listen,” he snarled, causing Seven to shrink back. It was never good when anyone was this mad at him. “I don’t know what sort of sick joke you think you’re playing, but I’m gonna need you to tell me who you are and who sent you right the fuck now, before I send Natasha in here and tell her to go crazy.”
Seven stared up at this man, once again weighing what to do in his mind. He’d been told never to reveal the name of the man in charge of the Red Room, not that he even knew who it was. But he’d never been told not to reveal anything else. So technically, even if this was a test set up by his instructors, he wouldn't have disobeyed a direct order, and he could argue his revealing of information was strategic in order to learn more about his captors to escape and report back.
“My name is Seven,” he finally said.
“Seven?” The man scoffed. “What, like the number?”
“Yeah, like, Experiment Seven,” Seven shrugged. “There’s ten of us. Ten arrived just a few months ago, she’s the last one, I think. I train with an organization called the Red Room.”
The blonde man stiffened. The dark haired man looked a bit thrown off.
“How long have you been at the Red Room?” he asked slowly.
“Um…” Seven thought about it. “I mean, I arrived when I was ten? I think? And I turned fifteen a few months ago, so… I suppose about five years.”
The dark haired man turned to the blond. The two had a silent conversation, before turning and leaving the room.
–
-{}-{}-{}-
–
“You can’t tell me that’s not my kid!” Tony exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Arrived when he was ten? Turned fifteen a few months ago? He looks, sounds, talks just like him!”
“Tony, if that is Peter, then something is seriously not adding up,” Steve shook his head. “Natasha was trained in the Red Room, it’s a place for creating the Widows, like she was. It’s not somewhere that kids go to get mutated powers.”
“Peter didn’t say he’s a widow,” Tony argued. “He said he’s Experiment Seven. God, Steve, he doesn’t even know his name! There are nine other kids in there, we’ve got to figure out what’s going on, and get them out!”
“We should let Natasha speak with him,” Steve suggested. “She was raised in the Red Room, she might know more about what we’re dealing with. She might connect with him better, get him to share more, since she knows what he’s talking about.”
Tony was quiet for a moment. “Alright,” he conceded. “Get her down here, then, and fast, cuz I need to start working on deprogramming my kid. Bring Bruce, too.”
“He’s not that kind of doctor,” Steve said.
“Yeah, I know,” Tony rolled his eyes. “But he might be some help.”
–
-{}-{}-{}-
–
Seven was confused. Again.
They’d moved him from the interrogation room. They’d put him into some kind of bedroom, though it was nothing like what he was used to.
In the Red Room, the bedroom was fairly small. There was enough room for ten beds, a nightstand beside each one, and a small trunk of clothes at the foot. That was about it.
This bedroom was much, much bigger. There was one absolutely huge bed in the middle of one wall. Wooden drawers and what looked like personal effects were all over the place. One wall had the door he’d come in through. Another wall had a set of double doors, and another single door. Seven wasn’t sure what they led to; he thought the single door might lead to a bathroom, but he couldn’t imagine what the double doors were for.
They’d put him in this room two or three hours ago. Seven was pretty good at keeping track of time, but the strangeness of the room had thrown off his attentiveness. He was certain at least two hours had passed, but it could be more. They’d explained that they were locking the door, for his own safety. Seven had to snort at that - nothing was for his safety. They wanted to make sure he couldn’t escape, or hurt anyone else, or damage whatever sort of evidence or information they thought they could get from him. They’d told him there was a camera in the room, also for his safety. The windows didn’t open.
He didn’t know the location of the camera. He’d have to figure it out - there was no chance of fashioning anything of any use to his situation without being able to find the blind spots. The door was, indeed, locked, and seemed to be reinforced because he hadn’t been able to damage it. He’d walked around the space, and then sat in the middle of the floor. There were plenty of chairs, and that giant bed, but he wasn’t stupid. Seating was for his superiors. Experiments sat on the floor.
The door opened. A woman with short red hair entered. She wasn’t dressed like the other two. The blond guy had been wearing some sort of military suit. The other guy, the one who’d yelled at him, had been in a suit jacket and slacks, though a t-shirt with a blue circle shining on it was underneath the jacket.
This woman was clearly dressed to put him at ease. She was wearing sweatpants and a sweater, her hair loose. She was carrying two mugs. She paused at the sight of him, cross-legged on the floor in the exact center of the room, and then smiled at him.
“There’s plenty of chairs, you know,” she said lightly. “Or the bed. Whatever you’re most comfortable with.”
Seven kept his face carefully blank as he looked at her. Why was she talking about what he was comfortable with? It had to be some sort of trap. The Red Room was always testing them, seeing if they’d disobey their rules. He wasn't going to fall for it.
“I’m fine here,” he said.
The woman gave no reaction. She simply sat down across from him, cross-legged on the floor, and held one of the mugs out to him.
“Hot chocolate?” she said.
Seven was more than a little suspicious. There could be poison in the cup. It could be drugged. It could be another test. She’d called it Hot Chocolate. Maybe it was meant to see how he reacted to burns. But he also knew better than to refuse to take something handed to him. He took the cup, and set it on the floor beside him.
“So you’re Spider-Man?” she asked conversationally, taking a sip from her own cup.
Seven stayed silent.
“My name’s Natasha,” she offered. “You might know me as the Black Widow.”
Seven knew his surprise must have registered on his face. Try as he might, he knew there was no way he was hiding that.
“The Black Widow?” he asked, and then winced. He wasn’t supposed to question his superiors.
“Yes,” she said, still smiling gently. “You met my friends Steve and Tony. They tell me that you’ve been trained by the Red Room.”
“That’s what I said, yeah,” Seven said. If she really was the Black Widow, then he could be reasonably sure that the Red Room wasn’t behind this. They’d been furious when she’d disappeared, and then resurfaced working for SHIELD. But he also couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t lying to him.
“I was trained by the Red Room,” she said, still in that obnoxiously casual, conversational tone. If she was going to start interrogating or programming him, she should just get on with it. “It wasn’t very fun.”
“Fun’s not important,” Seven said. “We have a mission to do. We need to be ready for it.”
“You’re fifteen, yeah?” Natasha asked. Seven nodded. “What do you suppose other fifteen-year-olds are doing? Training for missions?”
“Other fifteen-year-olds aren’t like me,” Seven said. He didn’t want to reveal much about his powers, if he could help it.
“You mean your enhancements,” Natasha said. “That’s true. But we’ve got plenty of enhanced here. They’re not trained the way you are.”
“The way I am?” Seven asked, then winced again. But Natasha didn’t seem angry by his questions.
“I was trained there, remember,” Natasha said. “Not as an Experiment, but as a Widow. Do they hurt you?”
Seven flinched, as splintered memories of programming flashed through his mind. He didn’t answer, but that flinch seemed to have told Natasha what she needed to know.
“You can drink that hot chocolate, you know,” she said, after a moment of silence.
Seven thought for a moment. He was pretty sure this wasn’t the Red Room, so he could probably get away with being a little mouthy. But they knew he was Spider-Man. They probably wanted to experiment on him now, too, see what “powers” he had and how they could use them.
“What did you do to it?” Seven asked.
“Nothing,” Natasha said calmly. “Have you had hot chocolate before?”
“I don’t believe you,” Seven said. “It’s got some sort of drug in it. This is another experiment. What’s it going to do? Want to see how I react to internal burns or something? See how long a sedative lasts?”
“You saw me drink it,” Natasha pointed out.
“Not this one,” Seven nodded at the cup beside him. “I’m not stupid, you know. I know how this shit works. Well, go tell whoever’s in charge of you that I’m not in the mood to be tested today, so if they want me to drink that shit, they’ll have to force it down my throat.”
Natasha just looked at him for a moment. Then she set down her cup, picked up his, and took a long drink from it, before setting it back down.
“There you go,” she said calmly. “Not burning me. Not drugging me. No test, no experiments. Taste it. You’ll like it.”
Seven glared at her suspiciously. How much of a fight did he want to put into this? Not much, he decided. He really wasn’t in the mood for someone to come force it down his throat.
He picked up the mug and took a sip.
It didn’t burn him. It was pleasantly warm, sweet, and creamy. It reminded him of something, which was weird, because he’d definitely never had anything like it before. An image flashed in his mind - a thick, gray blanket, and a fire in a fireplace. Just as quick as the image came, it was gone.
That was more weird. He’d never even seen a blanket like that, and the fires they used weren’t in brick fireplaces. He filed that thought away for consideration when he wasn’t being stared down by someone claiming to be the Black Widow.
“What do you think?” Natasha asked.
Seven said nothing, but drank some more of the hot chocolate. He couldn’t deny that it was good. If it ended up drugging him, oh well. At least it tasted better than most of the drugs he’d been given before.
“Can you tell me about the other experiments?” Natasha asked, after a long silence.
Seven considered. He didn’t know much about the others, truthfully. He knew their names, and their ages, and that one could move water. That wouldn’t cause too much damage, and he could still reasonably argue his case when the Red Room got him back. So he told Natasha what he knew.
–
-{}-{}-{}-
–
Watching Natasha question Peter was one of the most painful experiences of Tony’s life. Including Afghanistan. Topped only by realizing Peter was missing.
“His first thought is that we’re drugging him. Or that it’s a test to see how he reacts to internal burns,” he said, his voice strained.
“I know,” Bruce said gently. “But he’s not there anymore. He’s here, safe, with you.”
“If the Red Room is still active, then there’s a fuck ton of other kids going through this same shit who aren’t safe,” Tony said. “Natasha said she destroyed it.”
“She thought she did,” Steve said, looking up at the screen where Peter was walking Natasha through the ages of the other Experiments. “She’s just as pissed as you are, believe me.”
“Oh my god,” Tony said, staring up at Peter, too. “He just said that girl is seven years old.”
Steve sighed. Not in exasperation, but in a resigned sort of exhaustion. “We’ll find them. We’ll get them out.”
“We gotta get whatever they’ve planted in Pete’s head out first,” Tony said. “God, I haven’t even told Pepper. I’ve gotta… I’ve got to call Pepper.”
But he didn’t move. He couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, where Natasha was probing Peter about the enhancements the other children had.
They were all silent for a while.
“Tony,” Steve finally said. “What if we called in T’challa and Shuri? They got all that brainwashing out of Bucky’s head, maybe they can do it for Peter, too.”
Tony went still.
“You have a way to contact them?” he asked, not daring to get hopeful.
“Yes,” Steve confirmed.
“Call them,” Tony said. “Call them now. I’m going to call Pepper.”
Steve turned on his heel and left the room.
“This isn’t the same as what was done for Bucky,” Bruce said carefully. “She might not be able to help this time.”
“She’s got a better handle on it than we do,” Tony said firmly. “And at this point, I’ll take any help we can get.”