Hi Mr. Stark! It's Peter. Parker. I'm calling after patrol again. Just saying that everything went great. It was so cool, Mr. Stark. I was fighting this guy, and he had this taser. He tazed me, and nothing happened! Of course, I felt the electricity, but nothing happened. I grabbed it, and tazed him! He was so surprised. Then I said: "Wow! There's some real sparks between us! What's your name buddy?" Nothing else really notable, except for the vulture guy. I'm kinda on to him, but I know he's on to you. Just be careful Mr. Stark. That guy's a bad bean.
No worries. I'll take him out. Just a matter of time. ... Wow, so that got dark. On a lighter note, have a good night. It's Peter. Parker.
Beep!
Peter had already had a night of it- that goddamn building was a bitch to lift. Mr. Stark taking away the suit was a big chunk out of his pride, and a big disadvantage when it came to stuff like that.
The worst part was he was trying to take Toomes out alive- he didn't want to kill his date's dad. And Toomes didn't mind him as a person. He was a fishy guy but seemed nice enough under normal circumstances. And the flight down to the beach was scary- until it got to Peter they had to land. Then it was terror.
Slow-motion was never really a thing for Peter- and he'd been shot, stabbed, tazed, kicked, thrown, and dunked. He had never crashed a plane, though.
First time for everything... Ran through his tired head as the ground flew closer- closer-
Not a big crash- not a big boom. Shockingly white pain and silence. Peter could feel things through the pain- and see, he stumbled, bloody, to the beach.
Web all the stuff up, web Toomes up, put out the fire, call Mr. Stark. Prove you can do this, you're not another lame teenager. GET UP PETER!
And Peter got up- and stood tall like nothing had happened. Be a machine. Indestructible. But a shadow covered Peter's body in a split second, and he had to move- his ribs aching and panging, his entire body on the verge of collapse. Hell, even his teeth hurt, like he ever paid attention to that in a fight.
The Vulture found the boy in dire need of repair- but he had a mission, and some upstart would not ruin that. Grabbing the boy he lifted him high into the air, not relenting at his yelps in pain.
That boy really was a spider- he started to wiggle his way out of the claws- forcing Toomes to grip harder, his thin abdominal skin tearing and blood coating the metal claws of the suit.
The metal wings pushed him higher- maybe 300 feet up above the ocean. And he released the teen- the body of the now screaming boy dropping hard. But Toomes had no time to watch.
The fire was starting to engulf the crates of the Avenger's stuff. Especially the alien stones needed for the tech.
Peter's POV
I wonder if this is what it is like to die.
Thrown deep into a pit of cold liquid you can't escape until you pass out and meet God. Or see your parents.
Lyrics of a song run through my head. And the song keeps playing.
I feel some life return to my limbs and I twitch. MOVE! I flail, and swim the opposite way I am sinking. Up! Up!
My head eventually pops up at the surface and air has never tasted so great.
Shore is a long way off, seven hundred yards- and I see Toomes already attempting to get to the stuff. Shoving away my pain, I swim to the shore- it takes longer than I would've liked. The beach is home the second I flop myself down on it- and just breathe for a minute. My webs are still stocked, my back isn't broken.
Let's rumble, bitch!
Until the boxes Toomes is trying to open are engulfed in flame, and he can't feel it because of the suit. He could die from the smoke, but I know he's kinda smart. It'll take him a minute, and I start to shove other boxes of stuff to a non-burning part of the beach and web them together securely. Only Adrian's boxes left. And him.
"Mr. Toomes! Please come out!"
"Spiderkid, honestly. C'mon, Peter. Really? I'm not coming to you. I'm getting my stuff and leaving!"
"Mr. Toomes please! What about your daughter?"
"She lives in a dream world! Now leave before I have to kill you!"
"Mr. Toomes?"
"What!?"
"Your wings."
He had started to take off, arms full of the boxed of alien stuff. I used the small distraction of Toomes' wings and snatched the boxes with his webs, scattering them about the beach.
But the wings really had started to malfunction from the bad air and high heat.
"Spiderkid- You'll die for that."
"Mr. Toome-"
But suddenly the Vulture was falling, maybe thirty feet, into the flames.
And I had to catch him.
3rd Person
The short and immediate run through the flames was a little better because of the water on him. But it still burned, white hot licks of flame shooting up Peter's legs, fingers, arms, and neck. The older man almost hit the ground- until he felt a small squishy something catch his fall.
His head sit the hard sand, and he was dazed, and a small somebody put his limp form against a cool, unlit stack of boxes on a beach somewhere. Some mild concern went through him when the small, blurry person's abdomen grew red suddenly, and very fast, and collapsed. But then he sank into unconsciousness and he himself couldn't care anymore.
Tony Stark's POV
Needless to say, when I heard Spiderman was at the plane crash on the other side of Manhattan, I was pissed. At Peter. I specifically told him...!
That kid was just such a damn Tony Stark sometimes.
Oh. Wait.
The flight from upstate was long- but it was fine- I got to interrupt a meeting with Fury. That's sort of a plus.
But when I surveyed the crash- and the oddly familiar boxes int the rubble- and the large plane- and the glowing gems all over the beach- something hits me.
This wasn't just a plane crash.
This was the shit Toomes was trying to steal. Peter had-
Oh shit. FUCK.
The- Peter- Gem-
Authorities had just arrived, firemen trying to put out the raging flames. And as I got a little closer, I saw a little figure drag a larger figure towards the boxes- most of the boxes, it looks like, and stick him to the boxes.
That was Peter.
Fucking Underoos crashed my plane for this guy!? I'll admit, the kid has heart.
Hold up. HOW. the HELL. Did he survive the CRASH!
"Friday! What are his vitals!?" I scream at the robot.
"No vitals given sir. If I may remind you, Mr. Parker has had his suit confiscated."
Son of a bitch, Tony. This is why he had vitals readers in his suit.
I am almost to Peter now, maybe 80 feet above him and two hundred yards away.
Peter is dead on his feet, the sides of his old jumpsuit thingy dark red, he is burned, limping, his arm isn't supposed to bend that way, and-
There is a small spark from in front of him, and as I'm 50 yards away the small figure collapses.
WHAT THE FUCK PETER! NO! SHIT!
The Vulture is unconscious when I land, and so is Peter. He's wet, his hair damp with water, and his side and face and legs wet with blood. God- so much- blo-bloo-
No! I cannot have a panic attack now. Shut off the feelings! I lock down, and suddenly the boy in front of me is just another kid to save.
I roll him over and asses the damage on the front of him- what was the spark? Why did he collapse aside from his already sustained injuries?
There is a very fresh gouge in his gut- too deep. There is a lot of warm, dark blood pouring from it. But it's not a bullet hole, no- looks like it's from a- yep- I very very slowly pull out a long, sharp shard of metal. It's maybe as big around as a penny and four inches long. It's oblong, and oddly shaped, and in my attempt to pull it out I catch a glimpse of some bloody, pink intestine. I test his pulse.
God. Peter.
Through my compartmentalizing I gag- and the rest of my cover is suddenly gone.
peterPeterPEterPETerPETErPETER!
His pulse is almost gone- I shake him, slap his face. He's lost so much blood...
I cry out for the people that should have an ambulance- why aren't they here?
The fire. That's why. It's a chem fire, they can't get it out with water!
"PETER!" I shout out at him, and cry out in relief when his eyes open a little.
"Mr... Mr.. Star'? Izz... that... reall' you?"
"I'm here, kid. I'm here. You're gonna be fine- just hold on, I gotta get you to the hospital."
"You... why...? Came...?"
"Not now, kid. Can I pick you up!?"
But Peter just shook his head.
"Los' too... too much... blood..."
"The hospital has blood, kid. hold your stomach tight!"
Peter obeyed and I lift his small frame up into the air, cringing at the tangy, iron-y scent of the blood pouring from almost every inch of his body.
But he was quiet. Didn't cry out, anything. That was the scary thing.
"Underoos, I need you talk."
He sighed. "Why...?"
"To... to make sure I stay awake. I'm very tired and if I fall asleep I could fall out of the air and die. So keep awake. Tell me some wild story of yours."
He always did better with a cause not his own. It was a lie- I was more awake now than if I'd had 10 coffees.
But Peter lay his head on my shoulder, and began to sing.
You know. I've always been collected calm and chill.
And you know! I never look for conflict for the thrill~
But if I'm feeelin', som'one steppin' t'ords you can't describe just what I'm feeling, for you-
I'd go- step to a dude much bigger than me. For you, I know, that I would get messed up weigh 153. For you, I would get beat to smithereens...
Bumbum Bubbum, budabuda bop! bupudada. *Cough*
You Know, that I'll be in the corner, taking notes. and you know I've got your six while- you're working- votes. But if I'm feelin', somethin' steppin' t'ords you can't secribe just what I'm feeling.
For you I'd go- step to a dude much bigger than me.You know- I would get messed up weigh 153. Fooor yooou... I would get beat to smithereens...
I would get beat to-
You know I had to do it, you know I had to do it, you know I had to do one on the record for. You know I had to do one on the record for you like this. You know I had to do one on the record for you like this. You know I had to do one on the record for you like this. You know I had to do one on the record for you if I'm-
Feelin'! Somethin' stepping towards you can't describe-
We were over the fire, and to the ambulance. The kid was still singing to himself as I gave him to the nurses, EMTs. I was on the verge of a full blown panic attack now that Peter was on his way to somewhere safe. But away from me. I'd get there in a minute- I needed a couple seconds to freak out.
But blessed little Peter had to make me tear up immediately when he shouted at the top of his hardly functional lungs-
"No! MR. STARK! I have to KEEP HIM AWAKE! LET ME-"
But then he burst into a fit of violent coughs and the doors shut.
I flew to the top of the nearest tall building and stepped out of the suit and broke.
Darkness enveloped me-
God- I took away his suit and he about dies- he could still die- on me.
His suit wouldn't have helped him except it would have told me everything- his vitals-
What if he dies-
dark images of Peter on a bed with a flat-lining monitor-
Too much blood
Funerals
May.
oh jesus May-
the headlines-
I can't go to his funeral without raising a lot of questions
no one can find out who he-
IS.
He's not- dead-
yet.
Just uneasy blackness is all I see before I get up and take off to the hospital.
Either he's dead or he's not.
FUCK.
FRIDAY has been smart to be quiet for a while.
The entrance to the hospital is nearly empty, yet they are all surprised to find the Iron Man land in the lobby.
The front desk lady doesn't even bat an eyelash, surprisingly.
"PEter Parker."
I almost shout it but lower my voice. It's two words.
She sighs. "10:14:33. I'm Sorry, Mr. Stark."
No. NO! PETer can'T BE DEA- and- and I missed him. Two minutes ago the spiderkid so much like me was breathing while i panicked. But now I was breathing, and he wasn't. That's not how this was supposed to work...!
"What room?" I hardly whisper.
"Emergency Surgery. Go in there, if you'd like."
I take a step forward slowly, and then full out sprint in the direction the sign shows.
But the door- it is open. Propped open, still.
The doctors were gone, but what was left of Peter Benjamin Parker lay on the bloody table. His face was peaceful, despite everything. Smiling even. I can't breathe either. I touch his shoulder. He is still warm. Anger, dull and almost just pain spreads in my chest.
I call the hand to me, charge it with a bunch of energy. I put it on his chest- and press lightly. And the monitor beeps.
"DOCTORS! GET IN HERE NOOW!"
I am pushed out of the room as the docs get to work on Peter again. And in the waiting room I condense the suit and wait.
And wait.
Time passes slowly.
Finally:
"Mr. Stark?" I perk up.
"He's stable."
"Can I see him! Is he coherent!?"
"You see, Mr. Stark... That's the problem. Mr. Parker- he's in a coma, and we haven't the slightest idea how long it'll last."
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