I Know You
It was clear to Tony that Peter hadn’t had the best of nights; he seemed more restrained than usual at breakfast, and the bags under his eyes reminded him of the first time he’d met the kid. Still, when he assured Peter that they could hold off their trip until a day where he was more prepared for it, the kid had insisted he could manage.
And manage he did – for about half an hour, until he fell asleep in the car on their way upstate. Tony simply rolled his eyes and turned the radio up a notch.
The drive itself took a couple hours – Tony was prepared, upon arriving, to have to nudge Peter awake, but no sooner had the car crossed the perimeter of the compound than the kid stirred. It had struck Tony as either intensely bizarre or extremely coincidental, until he realised that the sensors built into the road and tucked neatly in the tree line may have set off Peter’s spider-sense when they scanned the incoming vehicle.
…Which technically still counted as bizarre, given it was Peter’s most elusive ability, but at least it wasn’t a complete mystery.
Tony tried his best to supress a smirk at the way Peter lit up upon seeing the compound. The way his eyes widened as they crossed the perimeter was strikingly similar to the way he’d reacted during his first visit to Tony’s lab, and the engineer would be kidding if he wasn’t a little relieved that the kid could still find it in him to get excited after everything.
God, after what he’d found out last night about Peter’s last caregiver…
To find out they’d been so wrong. They were banking on it, had assumed that that foster home had been the last time someone had actually looked out for Peter, had cared for him – just when they started to think they knew the worst of Peter’s situation, and now they find out it had been even longer than they realised since the kid had known love.
Or respect.
Or even apathy.
Not that they knew what that particular situation had been like. Peter had been deliberately vague, and when Tony shared with Pepper the choice phrases he’d used (‘I hated him’ – ‘He was the worst person I’ve ever met’ – ‘That fire was the best thing that had happened to me in a while, if only ‘cause I knew he was gone.’) neither one of them felt comfortable even speculating what might have happened.
For Peter – for Spider-Man – to speak that harshly about someone… Not to mention, Peter had met a lot of terrible individuals. Crime lords beating him to within an inch of his life, getting gut-shot twice; the kid had been in the same room as Justin Hammer, but this was somehow the ‘worst person he’d ever met’? Tony seriously dreaded to think what could ever earn someone such malice from a person as gentle as Peter. And, as much as part of him hoped he would never find out, it was worse to know that whatever it was, Peter was still dealing with it alone.
It was because of that that Tony was determined for today to go well; maybe they could start to chip away at the mystery surrounding Peter’s enhancements, and in the process, give them all something else to think about that didn’t involving the looming threat of Justin Hammer and his ethical nightmare of a company.
The communal space was empty when they arrived. Tony had planned it this way, not wanting the kid to feel overwhelmed or self-conscious before testing; he knew they had a team drill scheduled earlier in the morning, and that after that everyone tended to split off for a couple of hours, which would mean they were free to make their way to the training room where Helen and Bruce would meet them without interruption.
As they made their way over, it was hard to get a read on Peter. True, it was clear the kid hadn’t slept well, but even after a rough night he was rarely this… absent-minded. He hoped this was just a tired-teenager thing, rather than a chronically-secretive-traumatised-vigilante thing, but only time would tell.
He made sure to give Peter a reassuring smile as he led him through the doors to the training room. Helen and Bruce were already in there (the former pouring diligently over her tablet, and the latter tampering with some piece of lab equipment). Neither one of them stirred at their arrival, so Tony took the opportunity to give Peter a reassuring nudge. “Why don’t you go grab a water from one of the fridges outside? Don’t want any dehydrated spiders.”
At this, Peter finally cracked a smile. “That’s rich coming from you – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink something that wasn’t caffeinated or alcoholic. Or both.”
“First, I resent that assertion. Second… you’re probably right.”
“I am right.”
“Alright, alright no need to be smug about it – now skedaddle, ya lab-rat. I don’t want you passing out mid-maze.”
Peter rolled his eyes as he backed towards the door. “At least if I was a lab-rat I wouldn’t have to deal with your sass.”
“Oh please, I sass everyone – rodents included.”
“Naturally, my mistake,” Peter muttered sarcastically, giving Tony one last eyeroll before the training room door shut between them. Pleased he’d managed to bring the kid out of his shell a little bit, Tony headed over to his occupied colleagues.
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” he asked, pulling a small bag of trail mix out of his pocket and offering it out. Bruce accepted a handful, while Helen replied, her eyes never lifting from her tablet.
“I figured it would be best to do get a sense for Peter’s strength today. Dr Banner has prepared some of the equipment, the same ones used by captain Rogers and Mr. Barnes, hopefully it’ll give us an understanding of Peter’s strength-threshold, where his limits are, that sort of thing.”
“We’ve also brought this,” Bruce chimed in, lifting up an EEG cap, “To monitor Peter’s brain activity. Figured it would be useful both with the physiological assessments, and if we have another look at his, uh…”
“Acute reflex response,” Helen supplied.
Tony winced. “Eh, ‘spidey-sense’ has a better ring to it.”
“I’m sure it does,” said Helen patiently, “But I refuse to write ‘spidey-sense’ on official medical documents.”
“You’re no fun,” The engineer pouted, right as Peter came through the door, water-bottle in hand. “Right,” Tony started, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”
*
Testing was… okay.
That was what Peter kept telling himself as the cool water flowed over his skin, providing blissful relief against the warmth that still bubbled under his skin. That was new – well, not new exactly, but also not something he experienced on the regular – the physical strain of the testing had actually gotten to him, the way he imagined a work-out would affect someone with non-spidery DNA. It was kind of novel; exhaustion was something he felt less and less these days, with his wounds from the fire all but gone and his body actually getting enough nourishment for the first time in a while. Before, exhaustion was constant to some degree, but even then, it was almost always down to his inability to meet his own needs, and not from sheer over-exertion alone.
Today, they’d made good progress in finding his limits. Speed and strength, mostly. Here, the treadmill actually kept pace with him, even to a point where he could no longer keep up with the increasing speed. As for the strength, they’d had had him use a kind of resistance machine that simulated pulling a heavy weight behind you – a little like those strongmen Peter had seen on TV, pulling trucks and such across a short distance. He’d managed to take the machine to its max (surpassing what Captain Rogers was capable of, he’d been somewhat pleased to find out), which meant they couldn’t actually calculate how much force he was capable of producing, but Peter had felt like he wasn’t far off his limit. However, as Dr Cho had pointed out, that limit would likely look different in a stressful situation where adrenaline became a factor. She had gone on to wonder out loud about the practicalities of ‘simulating stressors’ in order to trigger an adrenal response, but Peter had claimed fatigue at that point, effectively putting an end to the testing.
And, to be fair, he was tired. That’s not to say he didn’t have other reasons for wanting the tests to stop.
He was grateful. These were incredibly intelligent and busy people taking time out of their stressful lives to help him acquire answers that he’d wanted for a long time. Sort of. Well, he did want to know what he was capable of, and he recognised the importance of learning more about his enhancements so they could make drugs that actually worked on him, for example. But all of this… the EEG cap, people making notes, watching his every move, sometimes talking about him like he wasn’t even in the room…
Being called a lab-rat, even. It was a joke. He knew it was a joke, and that’s not how anyone actually saw him.
But it also didn’t feel far off from the truth.
Peter turned off the shower and stepped out onto the matt. He was being ridiculous, he decided. He was reading too far into things, and letting his own insecurities around being different get in the way of what was actually going on. This feeling would pass – not to mention, there was enough going on for them to deal with without Peter getting wrapped up in a complete non-issue.
Once he was dry and dressed, Peter found Tony sat in one of the compound’s communal areas, now inhabited by an assortment of Avengers. Bucky and Sam were bickering over a chessboard, Steve and Wanda were looking over Bruce’s shoulder as he showed them something on his phone, and Tony was talking with Nat. They were sat quite close, and Peter got the sense that whatever they were discussing was a matter of urgency; he tried to tune in to their discussion, but by this point Tony had spotted him, and the dour expression he wore flattened into a pleased smile.
“Kid,” he called out, drawing the attention of the room to where Peter stood. He shuffled uncomfortably, giving an awkward wave. “Glad you could join us – hope you’re not too warn out?”
“Why don’t you take a seat, son,” Steve piped up, gesturing to an empty spot on one of the couches, but Tony pushed himself to his feet and shook his head.
“Don’t try to sweet talk him now that you know he’s stronger than you.”
“I wasn’t-”
“Besides, I’ve gotta steal the kid away for a minute, he’s needed on official Stark Industries business.” Having made his way over, Tony gave Peter a clap on the shoulder, steering him in the direction of the hallway. “C’mon, kid, got something to show ya.”
They ended up in a lab, strikingly similar to the one back at Stark Tower. Peter found himself led right into the centre, where Tony activated a hologram that lit up the air around them like fireworks, filling the space with drifting design sketches and blown-up diagrams. It was dizzying, and it took Peter a second to make sense of it; once he did, he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around what he was looking at.
“What is all this?” he asked, his head whipping back and forth between images.
“You’re a genius, kid – you tell me.”
There was one central design that caught Peter’s eye – he pulled it closer and enlarged the image, until the hologram of the full Spider-Man suit filled up the space.
“You… did you make all this?” Peter’s voice overflowed with disbelief and awe.
Tony simply shrugged. “I had a couple of ideas, decided to try them out. Nothing’s set in stone though, figured I could use your input on some of the finer details.” The teen was speechless; he stared at the suit, at all of its intricacies and details, and – perhaps most notably – the striking emblem of a spider in the centre.
“This is…” Peter trailed off. He couldn’t find the words. There was a design to his right – a hologram of his web shooters as they were, next to a diagram for an entirely different take on them. These newer ones were built into the suit, but would also detach to form around the wrist without it if needed. They were also a lot sleeker, and way more streamlined, a far cry from the bulky ones he’d built himself. “You did all this?”
It was somewhere between awe and incredulity. Everything around him…
Another shrug from Tony, but the hint of a smirk pricked at the corner of his mouth. “You like it?”
Peter scoffed. “I… of course I like it – this is insane!” He didn’t know what he wanted to look at more – he almost wished he could look at everything simultaneously. There was all-sorts to behold, stuff he’d never considered – variations of web-types, dispensable traps, web wings-
“Like I said,” Tony continued, “These are just ideas – I know you’re bound to have some thoughts of your own to add to all this.” At this, he came up behind Peter and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving him a playful squeeze.
For once, Peter decided to take it a step further; he turned into the man, surprising Tony with a hug. It wasn’t something they really did, and he could tell Tony wasn’t quite sure what to make of it at first with the way he tensed up. Peter began to worry he’d made a mistake, until Tony relaxed into it, reciprocating the embrace with a low chuckle.
“Thank you,” Peter emphasized.
When they stepped away from each other, Tony cleared the room of holograms, sending them all to a screen at one side. “Don’t thank me yet – what d’you say we get to work, huh? I’m sure there’s something in your freaky spider biology I haven’t taken into account.”
He mussed Peter’s hair affectionately before he walked over to the screens, unaware of the pit that had settled in the teen’s stomach.
“Uh, yep. That’s me…” he muttered with a wince. “Freaky spider.”
-
The rest of the trip to the compound remained pleasant. Getting to spend some time with the Avengers was a definite highlight (Peter always got a kick out of hearing the way they bantered and teased each other), and when they headed back into the city, the sun set before they made it to Manhattan. Peter always loved the city at night, so he spent the whole time with his eyes glued to the window, watching as the lights and traffic passed them by.
The whole trip – the stress of the testing, the absolute awe of the new suit design – was almost enough to make him forget about his promise to Ned. Almost.
By the time Saturday came around, the vigilante had managed to work himself up to almost physical levels of stress. Not only was he going against the express wishes of the people who were kind enough to look after him, but also one of his only friends – not to mention that it had been a while since he’d gone out as Spider-Man, and he was bound to feel a little rusty.
He had no suit to speak of, so instead he opted for a pair of plain black joggers and a matching hoodie, and then he fashioned a mask from a red t-shirt around his neck, the top seam pulled just under his eyes. Then there were the damaged goggles – obviously he couldn’t wear those, so instead he hoped a pair of sunglasses would be enough to conceal him. The only skin left visible was that on his hands and forehead, so he prayed that would be enough as he shoved the ensemble to the bottom of his backpack and went out to meet Pepper, who had very kindly offered to drive him over to Ned’s place.
His friend greeted him with his usual enthusiasm, but Ned (a habitually honest person) was not used to lying. As a result, the conversation shared between Peter, Ned, Pepper and Ned’s Lola held a very odd tension every time Ned spoke, over-explaining himself, awkwardly laughing and sending Peter panicked looks. Thankfully, Pepper was a merciful woman; she must have assumed Ned was nervous about meeting the CEO of Stark Industries – or just that he was socially awkward – and she didn’t mention anything about the way Ned was acting. As for the teen’s grandmother, she didn’t even seem to pick up on Ned’s demeanour. Peter wasn’t about to question it; he just thanked his lucky stars right up until the moment Ned’s door shut behind them, leaving the pair alone at last.
“…Dude.”
“I know!” Ned groaned, flopping down into his desk chair. “God, I just- how do people lie?”
“With a lot of practice,” Peter muttered as he let his bag slip from his shoulders.
“And to Pepper-freaking-Potts?? I don’t even think Tony Stark could lie to her!” Peter practically had to bite his tongue to stop himself from being too honest just then, but fortunately for him, Ned didn’t seem to notice. He flopped back on his bed and took out his phone. “Well… we’ve got a while yet before I need to head out – wanna watch something?”
-
It was nice, to have that (albeit short) time together. It was casual, and friendly, and for a little while Peter was able to ignore what the majority of his evening would consist of and just enjoy being with his friend. After a couple of hours of Ned introducing Peter to his favourite youtubers, however, it came to a too-soon end.
“And you’ll cover for me, right?” Ned asked, obvious trepidation lacing every word as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and double-checked the fire-escape.
“Don’t worry,” Peter reassured him, making a point of getting comfortable in Ned’s desk chair. “I’ll be right here.”
Peter was out the window within five minutes.
He felt… well, he felt awful. The lying, it was like he was right back where he started, still living that double life. Unfortunately, he’d never been able to ignore his conscience, and he just had this nagging feeling that he had to make sure this meeting went okay. It was decidedly not a spider-sense thing – Peter’s best guess was that this is what happens when a committed vigilante takes an R&R break.
Stir-crazy. The guilt of it.
Ned was easy enough to follow. Peter tailed him right to a small complex, tucked away between an auto-garage and a drycleaners. He found himself somewhere to perch on a roof opposite, relatively hidden from the street, but still allowing him to see both up and down it.
It was quiet, for a short while. Nothing but a couple of cars. After 20 minutes of waiting sentry on his perch, Peter began to feel slightly silly. That is, until a van pulled up on the curb below him.
It seemed non-descript enough. Not your stereotypical black organ-harvester van, or even one of those paedophile-white ones. This van was navy, with all the branding and decals to suggest that it belonged to a perfectly innocent electronic repair company – if it wasn’t for the way it set Peter’s spider-sense onto a low hum. He took that as his cue to launch himself across the street to perch on a closer room. From there, he could clearly make out one end of the phone-call being made by the driver:
"-set… Nah yeah, should catch ‘em comin’ out. Have positive IDs for ya by the end of tomorrow, just you wait… couple days, I reckon? Not like these freaks are gonna see it coming… probably the usual, yeah. Accidents happen, ey’?”
*
Ned was just about done. True, the meeting had turned out to be a lot tamer than he’d feared, but it also meant it was a lot more boring. A few of the people there – the ones who organised it – had some good points to make, almost good enough to understand why MJ had wanted to get involved; but some of the others…
“Y’know this is just like them vaccines, ya know?” some woman pratted off around her mouthful of chewing gum. “Some government fuckin’ poison, makin’ us- makin’ us all stupid an’ dumb an’ stuff so they can just do whatever the hell they like-“
“Thank you, Helen,” one of the organisers cut her off firmly, before shifting the conversation back on track. Ned slumped down into his chair, and he could feel MJ’s side-eye of judgement, but he’d been on the receiving end of it for so long that it had an increasingly diminishing effect on him.
If only there was some way this meeting would end early, something to cut the next 2 hours short so he didn’t have to hear more about 5G masts causing cancer, or-
A vent grate on the ceiling crashed to the floor, and a dark figure fell through it. They straightened up, dusting off the cobwebs that clung to their tracksuit, and addressed the room. “Hi everyone,” he said with an appeasing wave. “Sorry for dropping in unannounced.”
“Spider-Man??” Ned blurted out. The clothes were different, but Ned recognised the thick Queens accent from a YouTube clip he saw a few months ago – plus the pun was a dead give-away.
“That’s right,” the vigilante confirmed with a nod, sounding like he was surprised at being recognised. “Sorry yeah, got a new look, my last suit was- actually, that doesn’t matter right now. Look, I really hate to interrupt but there are people outside the building looking to ID anyone conspiring against Hammer Industries - now I know you guys are peaceful and you’re gathering from a place of concern, and I’d really hate to see you punished for that, so I highly recommend you guys pack up your stuff and follow me like now.”
At the head of the table, one of the regular members stood up. He was average height, with green eyes and hair tied up in a knot above his head. “…I guess we’ll follow your lead then, Spidey,” he said with a slow shrug. Every head in the room shifted between the man and the Spider, who was now standing very still.
“…You okay?” the man prompted, a hint of concern in his voice. That seemed to do the trick, as the hero broke out of his momentary trance.
“Right, right, yeah – uh, if everyone could follow me, I’ll take you out the back. I’ll lead you over a couple streets, make sure no one’s there, then you’re all free to make your way home.”
Just then, one of the organisers – a woman of about 40 – got to her feet. “Hold on, just a second – who’s out there? And how did they know about this meeting?”
“And how did you know to come help us?” another man chimed in.
More and more voices broke out in questions and accusations, until no one point could be distinguished above the noise. No one listened as Spider-Man tried to placate them, and Ned was really beginning to regret this whole thing until MJ clambered onto the table and shouted out for them to “SHUT UP!”
Silence fell over the small room.
“None of that matters now,” she continued. “Our first priority should be getting out of here safely, and our best bet for doing that is to listen to him.”
The room’s focus settled back onto Spider-Man, who gave MJ a startled but appreciative nod. “Uh… thanks. Yeah, uhm… alright. Let’s go… this way, I guess.” And with that, he took the door by the handle and started to usher everyone to the back of the building.
Once he’d helped MJ down off the table, Ned could no longer reign in his excitement. “I can’t believe we’re being saved by Spider-Man!”
“Yeah…” MJ agreed distractedly, her eyes narrowing as they joined the back of the herd.
“We should try and talk to him!” Ned started to ramble, “OMG do you think he’d take a picture with us?? God, Peter is gonna freak out when he sees it.”
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” MJ agreed suddenly. The back door was in sight, and the spider was stood holding it open as everyone funnelled through it.
“Yeah?” He tried not to sound to surprised, but MJ rarely indulged Ned’s fanaticisms.
“Absolutely.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him the rest of the way, until the only person between them and the vigilante was that regular, the man with his hair in a knot.
He clamped his hand down on the Spider’s arm and leant in. “Thank you, Spidey – it really means a lot that you were here.”
“Don’t mention it,” Spider-Man mumbled, oddly sheepish, but Ned wasn’t about to question it because then the regular was gone, and they could finally reach him.
“Hey Mr Spider-Man-sir, it’s such an honour to meet-“
“Pretty cool that you showed up tonight,” MJ cut him off, jogging to keep up with Spider-Man as he followed the crowd into an alley across the street.
“All in a night’s work,” the vigilante answered in that thick accent of his. God, he was so cool.
“Uh-huh, yeah, it’s really lucky though, isn’t it? That you knew we were even here, or that we’d need help,” MJ continued to pry. Ned began to blush on behalf of his pushy friend – even tried to tug at her sleeve, get her to stop interrogating the superhero who just helped them out, but MJ only shook him off.
“Well, uh, I was in the area.” They were in the mouth of the alley now, and all of the protesters were beginning to disperse in various directions.
“Except you haven’t been,” MJ countered. “No one’s seen you in ages, but tonight you show up?”
“MJ,” Ned pressed. Again, he was ignored. MJ stared down the vigilante as his cloth-covered face stared back.
He only broke the silence after a lengthy silence. “Sorry, I have Spider-business to attend to, you two get home safe.”
“Wait!-”
But MJ’s cry fell on deaf ears, as the Spider jumped high above their heads, grabbing onto the brick wall and using the momentum to propel him up to the roof where he dodged out of sight. MJ tutted, a sound that echoed down the darkened alley.
“What the hell was that??” Ned could finally demand of her, but annoyingly, the teen only shrugged.
“I don’t know, okay? Just… how’d he know about this meeting? Something doesn’t feel right here.”
“Of course something doesn’t feel right – we just attended a group meet trying to go up against a dangerousorganisation. Have you seen any movie ever? This was never gonna go smoothly.”
“Ned, I’m being serious,” MJ insisted. “I think…”
“…You think what?”
After a moment’s pause, MJ shook her head, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I don’t know what I thought,” she admitted in a quiet voice. “I just wanna know what’s happening. Forget it. Let’s just start heading home.”
“Finally!”
The relief Ned felt was short lived. No sooner had they left the alley than a pained cry rang out across the empty street. They glanced up and down it frantically, searching for the source, but the whole place was completely vacant. It wasn’t until Ned glanced up that he caught sight of a cloud of red smoke.
*
Peter felt himself tumble, the asphalt of the roof skinning his knees as he was dragged across it. Everything he tried to grab slipped through his fingers like the air that was rushing past him, making it impossible to gather his bearings or stop himself as he hurtled through the air. And there was something acrid, something that filled his sinuses and coated the inside of his throat, until every breath he drew somehow felt thicker. Peter spluttered and flailed helplessly, before he finally hit something and rolled to a stop on a rooftop that was definitely not the one he’d been stood on before.
Refusing to be caught unaware again, Peter scrambled to his feet and slipped into a fighting stance as he scanned the rooftop for whatever had sent him flying. There was nothing and no one around (apart from the dissipating hint of red-tinged vapour), but more worrying than that, Peter’s spider-sense was terrifyingly silent.
There was no prickle at the back of his neck, no chill across his arms as each and every hair raised to stand on end; the instinct he’d come to rely on like a lifeline had seemingly abandoned him.
There was no warning, then, when something crashed into him from behind, sending Peter sprawling to the floor, the weight of it pressing against his back and forcing his chest against the roof. Peter tried his best to resist against whatever was pinning him, but it was as though the energy had been sapped out of him. Lifting his arms became a chore, and the limbs were irritatingly sluggish as he tried in vain to push himself up.
“Hello, Spider-Man.”
He stilled is efforts – whoever was keeping him pinned had leant down until they were speaking directly into his ear.
“Please, no autographs,” Peter choked out, and he felt the weight on his back tremble as the man above him laughed.
“Ahhh, that winning humour of yours. Tell me, did you get that from your parents? Did they even stick around long enough to have that kind of influence?”
Shock sparked in Peter’s chest like a live wire.
“Eh, guess it doesn’t really matter,” the man continued as he peeled Peter’s hood back, completely ignoring how the teen thrashed in protest. “Not like you’re gonna be cracking jokes like that much longer.” It was then that the man scooped his hand under Peter’s shoulder and flipped him onto his back, granting him his first look at his assailant.
The first thing he saw was green. It shimmered off the surface of the metal mask that concealed his attackers face, and dripped in swathes of scale-like plates down his form to cover the rest of the body, in what appeared to be a rather sophisticated suit. This was not some third-rate thug, a wannabe criminal with a chip on his shoulder – this was someone with resources. Most of his face was covered except his mouth, currently twisted into a wry smile. Then there was something else, some kind of appendage that dangled above the man’s head on either side, but for all his straining, Peter couldn’t get his eyes to focus.
Peter shuddered. “Lovin’ the Christmas tree outfit, but y’know, we’re still a month or so out.”
Another laugh rippled out of his assailant. “See, this is what I’m talking about – even after inhaling several lung-fulls of a powerful muscle relaxant, you’re still cracking jokes.”
“Excuse me?”
“This festive get-up actually serves a purpose, believe it or not – why don’t I show you?” As he spoke, one of the hanging appendages above the man’s head lowered until it was close enough for Peter to make out. It was a mechanical arm of sorts – with the appearance of entwined tubing – but at the end, where one might expect a hand to be, was instead a crudely attached cannister with an impossibly large spike sticking out the end. It was with a sickening wave of fear as the spike brushed carefully over his cheek that Peter registered how the whole thing resembled a syringe.
“Woah woah woah, hey man, c’mon,” Peter urged, his struggling renewed, but it did nothing to budge the man above him – what was that he said about a muscle relaxant? – who simply smiled at him patiently.
“I think you’ll really enjoy this one – a little something of my own design. By the time you wake up, we’ll be somewhere a little more private, somewhere we can have a proper discussion.”
Of all things to cut-off that thinly veiled threat, Peter’s ringtone was just about the last thing he anticipated. Or his assailant for that matter, who pulled back from him slightly, taking the syringe with him (much to Peter’s relief). Likely it would be Tony or Pepper phoning, asking about how his night was going.
“If I don’t answer that, you have no idea what kind of hell it’ll bring you,” Peter said honestly, hoping beyond hope that his desperate tactic would work.
“Wanna bet?” the man muttered. He released his grip on Peter’s shoulders with one hand and used it to fish the teen’s phone out of his pocket. As he went to silence it, however, the ringtone stopped. For a moment, the man seemed pleased about this, until Peter’s text notification noise popped through – the man read whatever had turned up on screen and let out a sound of irritation. “Well, there go my hopes for this evening,” he moaned, chucking Peter’s phone off of the roof without a care. “Change of plans, mind if we reschedule?”
The man stood, dragging Peter up with him by the front of his jacket as they headed – Peter realised with horror – straight for the edge of the roof.
“Wait-!” He kicked and thrashed, but it was like his legs weren’t even there.
The man ignored him. “Shame – just as we were getting to know each other.”
“Wait, wait-” His begging fell on deaf ears. By now they’d reached the edge, and Peter was hanging over it precariously.
“Oh! And before I forget…” He released his grip on Peter with one of his hands, using it to dig in his pocket and retrieve a small vial with some kind of cap. He used his teeth to pull it off, revealing a small needle underneath that he plunged into Peter’s shoulder. “Just a little souvenir, hope you don’t mind,” he nattered as tugged the needle back out, and replaced the cap over the now-full vial.
The man’s persistently casual tone was really starting to unnerve Peter. “Put me down, please.”
Rather than inspire any mercy, his pleading only invoked a smirk. “God, you really set me up for this.”
“Shit, NO!”
“Have a nice trip, Peter.”
And he let go.
The fall lasted just a few seconds.
Peter.
A few seconds, before he slammed into the pavement.
Peter.
He’d had just enough sense in him to orient himself mid-air, maximalising his surface area as much as he could, but even with his enhancements it hurt. All the air was forced out of his lungs in one go, leaving him unable to draw breath. A stab of pain radiated from the back of his head where it had bounced off the ground, morphing into an ache that spread to his eyes and neck. His limbs refused to co-operate as he tried his best to writhe, and he could no longer tell if this was down to pain, or because of whatever he’d been dosed with. His gaze was fixed on one spot; that patch of roof where a smiling, contented face had watched him fall six stories before disappearing from sight.
He'd said ‘Peter’.
It echoed in his mind, an anthem drowning out all else.
Peter.
Peter.
“Spider-Man?”
-
Ned reached out for MJ’s arm, trying to stop her from venturing further into the alley, but she just shook him off. “Spider-Man?” she repeated, a little louder this time. They’d definitely heard a loud thump coming from between these buildings – a noise not unlike a stack of books falling over – and there was definitely something shifting in the shadows, but why Spider-Man would’ve dropped into this alley Ned wasn’t sure. More than that, he wasn’t sure he was supposed to know.
Something he desperately wished MJ would just pick up on.
“Let’s just get out of here!” he whispered, knowing full-well he wasn’t being any quieter than his regular speaking voice. Just as MJ turned to him (probably ready to tell him to shut up), a pained gasp came from somewhere in the darkness. This time it was MJ’s turn to stop him from venturing further, as Ned’s immediate instinct was to try and rush forward. Once his mind registered this and forced his body to cooperate and go still, they both stood for a moment to listen.
There were no more gasps, but faintly Ned could make out the sound of breathing – laboured somewhat, like they were struggling to pull the air into their lungs. Either way, he knew it was a person making those sounds.
He gave MJ’s arm another tug, only for her to shrug him off once more and finally round on him in exacerbation. “What??”
“We don’t know who that is,” he pointed out in a whisper. “It could be whoever made that cloud-thingy!”
“And if it isn’t?” she snapped back at him. Ned couldn’t think of a response quick enough, so yet again she turned her back and pressed forward. “Spider-Man, is that you?” MJ called out a third time; as his eyes adjusted, Ned began to make out a heap towards the centre of the alley, one that shifted at MJ’s words.
“You- agh- you shouldn’t be hhh- here-“ the heap grunted. Ned felt relief flush through him at the familiar thick accent, a sensation that was quickly replaced by apprehension. It definitely sounded like Spider-Man, with his distinctive Queens twang, but the strain in his voice made it sound off, somehow. More like an affectation than an accent – it reminded Ned of his own attempts to speak in his Spanish class, where something in the vowels became noticeably un-native in his clumsy mouth.
“It sounds like you need help,” MJ replied, monotone as ever. The vigilante managed to straighten out from the pile he made on the floor, but stumbled down to his knees the moment he tried to stand.
“Please- go.”
Wait.
MJ crossed her arms, her usual stubbornness in full-swing. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“You- have- to-“ the spider eeked out between gasps; he was trying to use a nearby dumpster as a crutch.
All the blood left Ned’s face. He could hear it now.
“C’mon dude, really? You can’t even walk!”
Had MJ suspected it?
“It’s- not safe-“
Or was she just thinking about conspiracies?
“Obviously, so will you just tell us the problem? Is this about Hammer tech? Do you know something – is that why you’re here?”
He had always been so pale.
“I- can’t- you gotta-“
“Both of you shut up!” Two faces snapped to Ned’s direction. He didn’t care; he was done. Ned let his sudden resolve settle over him – right into his bones – before he spoke. “You need help, Peter.”
The vigilante stumbled back, almost tripping back to the floor. He was all but certain, and yet this confirmation that he was right, that Peter was Spider-Man… Ned couldn’t help feeling a spark of shock.
MJ only scoffed. “No,” she countered, “No, it can’t- it’s- Peter, he’s… That’s not what’s going on here-”
Huh. Guess she didn’t suspect it. Now wasn’t the time for her stubbornness – Ned cut her off. “It is. And you knew something was up, didn’t you? That’s why you wanted to follow him out in the first place?”
She reeled on him. “Obviously, but I’m not just gonna jump to that kind of conclusion – this is corporate scandal, not- not personal drama! Just- ugh, get your head out of your comic books and try to be realistic for once!?”
“You don’t have to know everything, Michelle. Sure, maybe Hammer Industries is up to something, or maybe those were just a bunch of- of alarmist doomsday-ers – none of that matters now, not when neither of us could even figure out that our friend was- was a…”
The rest of the sentence died in Ned’s throat.
Peter had taken off whatever had been covering his face – his eyes were blown wide in fear.
“Peter…” Ned heard MJ distantly gasp.
Iwasrightholyfuckingshit.
“It’s- guys, it’s really not safe here,” Peter croaked.
Then his knees buckled, and he fell to the ground.