chapter 2
Four adult charged at him. Fight or flight? One of them was over 6’ and was scarily broad, another was in a metal sui- oh, these were the avengers. Flight. Definitely flight.
He dropped the heavy weapon and broke a window with his body, his legs running before he hit the ground before he could even hear the gun hitting the floor. They charged out the window after him. He threw his arms out, sending a web out to the spire of a cathedral. He was Hydra’s best weapon once, surely he could bring that back for long enough to escape. He kept on moving. Half running, half swinging across rooftops, Ironman- no, calling him that would increase his initial fear. Stark was close behind him and Rogers was keeping up in the streets below. He couldn’t see the other two so he assumed he’d lost Barton and Romanov.
Stark was in a machine, Peter was not. He needed a break, the air being forced down his throat stung his overworked lungs. As he and Stark stood on opposite ends of the rooftop, he panted as loudly as he could, “why’re you even after me? I ain’t got the weapon or anythin’,”
Stark looked slightly perturbed at Peters young voice, he probably should’ve remembered to mask it. “I know,” Starks robotic voice answered, “We want information.”
As Stark said this he started running towards Peter, so Peter did the only thing he could, jumped off the roof, the fall wouldn’t hurt him too bad. Probably. This was so unfair, he didn’t even work for the baddies, why couldn’t they leave him alone?
In Peter’s incredibly well thought out plan, he forgot to account for one small variable. Rogers. Strong hands gripped his arms with a vice-like grip. It’s very difficult to fight a super soldier while trying to keep your hood up. Secret identities are a bitch. Naturally, his hood fell down almost immediately, and Rogers bright blue eyes stared into his blood red ones. He should of worn his coloured contacts. In Rogers shock, he slackened his grip. Peter ran.