Chapter 2
He wakes up in darkness before the overwhelming pain startles him further awake. As his eyes adjust to the dark he makes out a boxy room made from solid silver metal.
What the actual hell was going on?
He glanced around and tried sitting up before being sharply yanked back down by metal chains and the realization hit him like a bag of wet cement.
He was kidnapped.
Chained and imprisoned as well as fatally injured and fatigued.
Well damn he sure was screwed.
He attempted yanking back at the chains but even after using all his force (which was a lot) they didn’t even budge or crack a little.
Wowwww okay this kinda sucked. He was completely stuck and he wasn’t sure where he was or when he’d get out.
The door creaked open loudly and a small man with a lab coat walked in with several men behind him, armed and in all black.
Their smile glints in the dark before all lights around him turn on blinding him.
“ты, должно быть, Питер Паркер” (You must be Peter Parker) Peter understands and thanks the younger him for deciding to learn Russian as a hobby all those year ago, he’s practically fluent but he wouldn’t let them figure that out. Better to act ignorant rather than knowledgeable. As May said once, play dumb and act smart.
He gave them the most confused look he could muster before one of the men behind translated to him ‘You must be Peter Parker’ in a thick Russian accent.
“или лучше сказать Человек-Паук?”
The man behind translated once again “or should I say Spider-Man.”
He snarled at the men “where am I?”
The smaller man laughed, so apparently he did know English? Probably testing him to see if he knew Russian then he guessed.
The smaller man swaps Russian for English but his thick accent sticks “so scary!” The man laughs maniacally and claps his hands together “I wonder how long it will take to break you little Spider?”
A shiver runs down his spine. Oh crap.
This is probably the first time in his life where he has actually realized there’s no way out of this.
He doesn’t know where he is and nobody will care enough to look for him.
He looks up at the man who is staring at him with a crazed look. The Man in the lab coat reaches down into his pocket and pulls out a small syringe.
Oh he is so screwed.
The man steps forward, his shoes echo around the room like a ticking time bomb. Peter attempts to pull at the chains but receives nothing but blistered wrists.
There was nothing he could do.
He closes his eyes and braces for the injection as the Man looms over him.
“Ночь Ночь маленький Паучок”
He recognizes what he was saying ’night night little spider’ and cringes as metal clamps roll around his arms and legs, despite his struggles and screams the syringe is pushed through his arms and into his veins.
Then everything fades to black.
Spidermanspidermandoeswhateveraspidercan
When he wakes up he’s in a white room surrounded by cases and computers. He looked down and realized he was strapped to a table in a hospital gown, but this wasn’t a hospital, like at all.
Oh god. He was in a lab.
This was NOT a good sign, strapped to a table in a lab. Worse than that there were tubes and needles sticking out his arms and stomach.
The man from before stood above him with a grin, “Glad to see you’re awake little Spider”
He shakes violently against the table “what do you want from me?” He quivers
The man above him softened “oh little spider, I do not want you. I want your powers!”
Peter felt sick.
“It won’t work.” He tries. Remembering Harry and that whole fiasco “it doesn’t work like that, it’s genetic”
Maybe if they realize it can’t be given to someone else they’ll let him go.
They won’t.
“Oh, is that so? Hmmm” the man strokes his chin as if deep in thought “well, I guess we’ll just have to find out won’t we?”
Right as he finished speaking Peter threw up.
The man’s smile fell from his face as the sick drooled over the front of his fresh white jacket.
“отвратительное животное!” (disgusting animal) the man yelled and grabbed a scalpel from the shelf and slammed it in between my collarbone as i jerked up in pain, ‘I’ve had worse’ i bit down on my tongue trying to stop the screams from coming out of my mouth.
“жалкий” (pathetic) the man breathes under his breath before putting on a more neutral face.
“Moving on from that” the man smiles again “we should really be getting along with the testing.”
Peter’s pretty sure this is some like messed up heavy karma for killing May. If so he deserves this, deserves getting syringes stuck into him and he deserves getting blood sucked from him, he deserves to get belittled by this creepy man in fucking Russian and he deserves what’s coming next.
Over the next few hours he watches as the man in the lab coat examines his whole body and runs his hands along his skin, pricking it with needles and running scans along it. It makes Peter feel dizzy and bark out in pain, eventually he passes out and wakes up in the cell he was in beforehand.
He stays in the silence and dark, searching for any kind of weakness in the room, but there wasn’t he couldn’t even get out of the chains he was in, never mind the walls that stood around him.
The man from earlier walks in through the door surrounded by men again and his blood runs cold.
“Time for food, now!” The man laughs almost friendly but he knows the meaning behind the tone is everything but.
The man walks forward with a bowl and pitcher.
He leans down next to Peter and puts the bowl of food and water just out in front of him.
He almost feels relieved ‘they’re giving me food and water at least’ before dread washes over him.
He was bound to the chair, not able to move.
The bowl was on the floor.
His legs were bound.
The bowl was incapable of being reached.
The man in the coat eyes glints with delight as the scene before him takes place, this is all a game to him. He wants me to get desperate.
Sick bastards.
The man turns around to the bodyguards (he thinks?)
“он очень милый, даже милее, когда он в отчаянии.” (he's very cute, even cuter when he's desperate.)
Peter's stomach drops as he translates the words in his head.
Most of the men stay slightly still, a few smiles will make the others look perturbed at the words.
A grown man, probably older than at least forty five was perving on a fifteen year old.
The man turns his gaze back towards him “I think we will have a lot of fun together, little spider.” He says before standing up and leaving with the rest of the men.
That night (he thinks it’s night anyways) he doesn’t sleep or close his eyes and keeps his spider sense on alert, he’s still in excruciating pain and his spider sense is already ringing out in his ears but there’s literally nothing he can do apart from cry, and he’s not going to do that because that was pathetic.
But maybe he could let him be a little pathetic, just for right now.
The rest of the night tears slide down his face and he looks at the bowl of stodgy oa5s in front of him, his stomach feels empty but he doesn’t deserve to eat. He got himself into this situation just like he gets everyone else into situations.
He’ll try and get out as soon as possible but right now it doesn’t really seem plausible.
Spidermanspidermandoeswhateveraspidercan
They gave me a diary four days later, most likely to keep track of me and steal any information I had and see how knowledgeable I was but at least now I can have somewhere to write down thoughts.
I’ll try and write every day or two.
I pick up the blunt piece of charcoal they gave me and start writing
day five:
Mr.Lab coat man took me to his lab and I tried escaping through a door yesterday but they just shot my leg and carried on. I still don’t get who they are and they all keep speaking in Russian so maybe a Russian organisation or I’m actually in Russia.
I saw him take more of my blood today and he injected me with something which really hurt me :(
After that he took me to a bigger version of my cell and tested out my healing abilities and spider sense but it’s pretty slow now though because of the ‘new situation’ I was in.
I don’t even know what to think anymore, I don’t think anyone will realize im gone, everyone who cared about me is dead, Ned and MJ ah haven’t heard from me for months and Mr.Stark hates me, plus I’ve only been Spider-Man-ing every few days and laying so low in the radar that not even New York will realise that I’ve been kidnapped.
But I’m sure someone will come eventually.
day six:
The lack of food has gotten to me and they always keep the bowl of sludgy oats and the pitcher of water just out of reach to tease and tempt me which is getting frustrating.
They didn’t experiment on me today but tested what Spider-Man limits were.
It wasn’t fun at all, they put me in a room full of fire, ice, water and even mint because they somehow found out I was allergic to it (probably from the blood samples) to see how long i would last in each room.
Once they got their results they hung me upside down to see how long it took before I fainted, I’m pretty sure they thought it would be longer. It was only 26 minutes before I passed out. I think this might have been because I didn’t sleep last night but I think they knew that as well.
I didn’t find anything new today.
I really hope someone finds me soon.
Day seven:
I found out Mr.Lab coat man’s name is Dr. Abdulov, I don’t like him because of the experiments he keeps doing and he keeps making comments about my looks, but today he told me that spiders were supposed to last 30-60 days without food so I suppose that’s what they’re trying with me.
I don’t think I’m that much of a spider to not eat for more than a month and I’m not sure how long I’ll last like this. Today they beat me and timed how long the wounds took to heal. It took eleven hours and twenty two minutes for the wounds to scab over.
It’s getting a lot worse, I’m not sure how much longer my powers will go on with this treatment.
After that they took my wrists and stitched up the holes where my webs came out so I couldn’t use them. I don’t think they knew I couldn’t use them beforehand either but I didn’t tell them that because they wouldn’t let me speak anyways.
I think someone needs to come soon.
Day thirteen:
I couldn’t write for six days, they injected a serum which was supposed to enhance his powers, a recreation from the one they used on Captain America but a much weaker and less-powerful version.
I was unconscious for four days and when I woke up they tested what had changed.
It didn’t do a whole lot but enhanced my strength further and my reflexes. They were seemingly happy about it though.
They still haven’t fed me which is making me pretty on edge, my powers are almost useless at this point and the training they’ve been making him do isn’t helpful towards the stunt.
I still can’t sleep and I haven’t eaten in over two weeks. If you count before I came here, they’ve started to hurt me when I pass out and I don’t know what to do anymore.
Please help me.
Day fourteen:
They call themselves HYDRA.
And i'm going to die here.
Day sixteen:
They killed her.
They killed her infront of me.
Her name was Camillia, she was a nine year old Vietnamese girl, she liked kittens and the colour yellow.
They had stolen her from her family and put her in his cell on day fourteen.
She was so kind to me.
They just killed her, in front of me. I couldn’t do anything.
She was hung.
They wanted to test me, to see how far they could push me.
I cried and threw up all over myself before I tried to strangle one of the bodyguards.
They stopped me and threw me back into my cell.
I can’t do this anymore, I’ve had enough, I just want someone to save me .
Day seventeen:
They took me to the lab today and took more blood, it was a lot. Bags and bags.
I couldn’t even throw up, my body is at its lowest point and they won’t do anything about it.
Help me, someone please help me.
Day eighteen:
I’m pretty sure I’m dying.
Day nineteen:
They brought in a man to train me, he was a soldier of sorts to them.
The winter soldier they called him.
They made the man train me for hours.
I was already weak, tired and injured. But I was stronger. Physically speaking.
They spared together. They made me watch him train, it was like a dance, a cruel horrible play.
I knew it was only a matter of time before I became the same as what the soldier was.
A broken shell, only listening to commands and nothing more. A violent rabid dog for them to order and destroy.
I need someone to help me before I turn into what they had done to the soldier, to what they’d done to so many others.
Help.
Please god help.
Day Twenty:
The Winter Soldier came again today, he was standing like a doll in the corner whilst they trained me. He was staring at me with dazed eyes.
I think they drug him. I wonder if they drug me too.
Maybe it’s just the side effects of almost dying.
I’m not sure.
I want to go home, to Tony, to anyone.
I miss Tony so much, I don’t care about anything else, he’s the only person I have left.
I genuinely have nothing.
They took everything.
Everything.
I hope they kill me before I can turn into a soldier.
I hope I turn into a pile of rotted bones before they make me onto what they made the winter soldier.
Day twenty nine:
I don’t think I’ll be able to write anymore.
The winter Soldier is gone.
A traitor.
I am next.
I want to die.
Help.
He puts down the piece of charcoal and throws the notebook at the ground before dissolving into a fit of sobs.
He can’t do this anymore, they’ve done so much to him.
No one’s ever going to save him from here. It’s only been two and a half weeks and he feels so broken already.
They won’t stop.
They’ll never stop, they’ll keep going until he dies.
This is his life now.
Pain. Pain and suffering.
The things they inject into him are anything random they can think off, it ranges to actual serums which are to dangerous for humans to try to bleaches and acids
He’s starting to cough up blood now, he’s probably be throwing up if there was anything in his stomach.
He watches as Dr. Abdulovwalks through the door and makes his way towards me in the same white lab coat as he wears every day.
“Hello little spider, would you care for a bite to eat?”
Peter knows it’s a game or a trick yet he can't help from nod weakly.
“Beg then.”
I cringe at the sentiment but the only other choice is y’know dying.
So he falls to his hands and knees and swallows any piece of dignity he has left and begs.
That day was the first in thirty four that he’d eaten.
He knew it would be tough but he didn’t care, he forced it down and ignored the protest from his stomachs and forced it down hoping that it would somehow stop the overwhelming threat that death was going to take him over.
He hears the man whisper something in Russian before he leaves but he’s too tired to listen “ты в таком отчаянии, не так ли? как восхитительно. Завтра, думаю, я заставлю тебя просить чего-нибудь немного необычного.”
(so desperate aren't you? How adorable. tomorrow i think i'll make you beg for something a little different)
That night he sleeps a little and he feels like the gods are shining at him because things are finally looking up.
It doesn’t last for long. It never does for Peter Parker.
They've left him alone for a few days (I mean it could've been weeks he has no sense of what day it was anymore), maybe they forgot about me?
Probably not but he wasn’t going to let this time go to waste he tucked himself in a corner, they took him out of the chair he was chained to on somewhere around the seventh or eighth day which he liked as he could curl up in a corner and try and maintain some level of body heat as it was bloody freezing down here.
He’s pretty sure it’s underground which would make sense on why there were no windows and why it was so cold down here.
He tries to sleep but only manages to shut his eyes for a few minutes before somebody opens the door disrupting the quiet he had maintained for the few days.
“ну давай же” (come on) a man he doesn’t recognize stands in the doorway in the same sickening outfit as the rest of them, the man in the doorway scoffs as Peter still isn’t moving, he’s still pretending he doesn’t understand their Russian which may be stupid but it doesn’t make that much of a difference anyways as it’s been weeks since he’s spoken anyways.
The man in the doorway walks forward, cornering him before grasping his wrist and yanking him up and dragging him out of the room.
He doesn’t fight it, he never does. A few months ago before everything with May and HYDRA he would’ve been able to get out of his grip with ease, maybe even give him a taste of his own medicine, but no his body was weak, he couldn’t shoot webs and he hasn’t slept or eaten for days.
He still remembers the day after he had gotten fed. They’d strapped him back on the lab table and burnt parts of his skin to see how much quicker he was at healing now that they had fed him.
It was improved a lot but it still wasn’t enough for them so they burnt him over and over. They thought they could train his body into healing faster and quicker but it hadn't worked.
It didn’t work.
Maybe if his body wasn’t so weak it wouldn’t have done so badly otherwise.
They told him he deserved it.
It was punishment for eating.
That night he had thrown up his food, so it really wasn’t even worth it in the first place.
All the pain was for nothing.
When he gets sent to the room he can’t find it in his heart to care what happens next.
He just wants it to end.
That’s all he wants.