Seeing You For The First Time
Peter Parker woke up to the rays of sunlight beaming through his window. He stretched out all of his limbs in his twin-sized bed and carefully got up. At first, he was unsteady on his feet, still shaking off the side effects of sleeping. He stumbled across his relatively small room and went up to his dresser to get changed into his work clothes.
The room was cold, uncomfortably cold. It was mid-November, and snow was already on the ground. The snow was pleasant at first; its soft pillowy feeling made him feel happy for once, but Peter's dad decided that he wasn't going to pay for the heating this year, claiming Peter -who was 15- was old enough to pick up the slack.
The man wasn't the nicest person in the world, he had a stable job and put food on the table, but it wasn't always for Peter and him. His father -Richard- was verbally and physically abusive to Peter. He was very strict had had an intense amount of rules for Peter to follow. Some involve curfew, and some include paying bills. Because of these strict rules, Peter had to work extra hard while maintaining good grades and a job.
He lived in a small apartment in Queens, so nobody knew the life he was living.
It was a Saturday that day; for most teenagers, that meant a day of having fun or relaxing, but not for Peter. Today he had chores and a job he works at five days of the week.
He worked at a Delmars, a small bodega a subway ride away from his school. It was his favourite place to be. It was his safe place. All of his coworkers were friends with him -not including the manager -, he got paid a good wage, and he enjoyed the gentle cat named Murph.
Peter sighed as he opened the dresser drawer and pulled out his clothes. He could smell the alcohol wavering from outside his door and could hear the sports channel playing. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the top of the wooden dresser. Today was going to be a long day.
He slowly creaked open his scratched door when he was done changing and tip-toed to the bathroom. On the couch, he saw his passed-out father with a beer bottle in his hand.
Last night was rough for Peter. Richard came home drunk and yelling, saying that Peter had lied to him about something. The teen did his best to calm him down, but it only escalated the situation. His father lectured Peter, telling him how worthless and stupid he was, but then he got violent. Richard tackled him to the ground and beat Peter with his belt. He slashed Peter on the back, and Peter could only remember crawling back to his room after that.
Peter successfully got past Richard, only causing a few floorboards to whine under the pressure of his feet.
Peter turned on the light in his dingy bathroom and sadly looked at his reflection.
He had dark purple bags under his eyes that were highlighted by his pale skin. His eyes were red, and a few cuts littered his face. His hair was a mess, but he was too tired to fix them.
He grabbed his old toothbrush with bristles sticking everywhere and ran it under the tap.
He did the best he could in five minutes to fix his appearance to make it look like he didn't get the living shit beat out of him less than 12 hours ago.
He straightened out his shirt and sweater and walked through the apartment.
The fake granite kitchen counter had wrappers and beer bottles all over it, and the hardwood floor had muddy footprints covering it. Peter couldn't clean that mess up and get to work on time, so he shrugged and dug through all of the bottles and cans on the table to get his backpack. He quietly shut and locked the green door to his apartment and made his way to the elevator.
He put in his earbuds as the elevator moved and made his way to work.
He got off the subway cart 15 minutes later -which he considered record time because New York is scary- and started walking down the sidewalk. He took his usual route that had a lot of shortcuts in it. Some that involved going into very sketchy alleys. He knew he was putting himself in danger, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.
As he approached, his favourite alleyway between two warehouses went down the snow-dusted path that had yet to be littered with footprints.
The minute he walked into the alley, he was greeted by a bulky man his height wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. Peter yanked his earbuds out and looked the man in the eyes with a calm expression, just like he did with his dad. This wasn't his first time being mugged, so he knew what to do to get out of it. Confusion is the best tactic.
"Give me your fucking money!" The buff man yelled, shaking his gun as a warning. Peter nearly laughed; this was a textbook mugging.
"Bold of you to assume I have money." Peter deadpanned, looking him in the eye. He watched as the man's tough facade crumbled into a panicked state. He could hear footsteps shuffling nearby and prayed that they didn't get involved. The last time that happened, Peter got shot.
"You better give me your wallet, or else I'll blow your brains out!" The mugger shouted, hands now shaking the gun.
"Bold of you to assume I want to live," Peter replied, amused at the man's frustration.
"I will fucking shoot you!" He exclaimed, now putting the deep black gun in between his eyes. Peter took a minute to look at the gun and saw that it didn't have any shells. This time he actually let out a laugh.
"It's kinda hard to do that when the gun isn't even loaded."
The man looked down at the gun, and Peter took that as a chance to overpower him. He punched him square in the nose and watched him fall in the crisp white snow. Blood was now seeping over his face, and the gun was lying at his side.
Peter grabbed the handgun while the man was distracted and writhing in pain and threw it into the empty warehouse.
"It's not really nice to mug people. Think of this as karma." Peter said, casually walking further down the alley.
As he reached the end of it, he turned around and saw that the man was gone. That was the fastest any mugger has left the scene.
Peter turned back around and made his way to the bodega
It was a small place on the corner of the street. It was busy today; everyone was out to do their shopping, and going to a deli was perfect for buying meats. The shop also doubled as a restaurant that served mediocre food.
He walked in and was greeted by fellow coworkers. He watched as they looked at his cuts and held a grim expression. Peter hadn't told anyone what goes on at home but seems a lot of people put the pieces together. Thankfully for him, they never reached out to CPS, and Richard hadn't been arrested. Some may say they aren't doing the right thing, but to Peter, they are doing the best thing they'll be able to do.
Peter waved hello to Mr. Delmar and walked straight into the kitchen to find his apron. The apron was worn out and stained due to the many hours he worked there, but Peter didn't care what it looked like.
He cracked his fingers and walked out the grey swinging door. Some of the tables in the shop were filled -which was surprising because not many people choose to eat at a deli restaurant- and there were people buying loads of meat, and outside cameras were flashing.
Peter furrowed his brows and looked further out the window. There was a sleek black Audi parked outside of the shop that captured the attention of all the cameras. But, unfortunately, its windows were tinted so that you couldn't see within. His interest was peaked, but he went back to work.
He was washing a few plates before the bells jingled, signalling to him that someone had walked in. He didn't bother to look and started drying a cup that had been sitting out for days.
He was zoned out on the dishes until Mr. Toomes - who was always horrible to Peter - came up to him with a pale face and slightly shaking.
"I need you to wait table four right now, and if you don't, there will be consequences." Peter nodded slowly and grabbed his notebook, trying to pinpoint why Toomes of all people had looked so shaken.
He walked towards table four and approached the full booth with a customer service smile. But, it faded as quickly as it appeared when he saw who was sitting at the table.
It was a man with a clean-shaven goatee, wearing transparent glasses. He had a sharp jawline and even sharper eyes and was currently sending glares to the man across the table.
Peter froze at the spot and shakily held his notebook. He couldn't believe he had to serve the most feared man in New York.
"Kid? I know it's weird to see Tony Stark, but you gotta say something."
Working in the Mafia could definitely be considered hard to other people, but not to Tony Stark. He knew everything there was to know. He knew his allies, his enemies, and the moles within the mob.
He had a team, each member providing a crucial key to making business runs and deals go well.
Steve Rogers.
He was perfect for leading the team. He made plans and helped work out negotiations using tactics he learned in the army. He had some fighting skills that his impeccable strength made up for, but he rarely used it. He used to have good morals, but the death of his best friend James Buchanan Barnes hit him hard, and he found himself in trouble after getting in gang fights. He soon started to enter more and more fights, getting closer and closer to different Mafia bosses. Nick Fury - the king of the Mafia - found him on the verge of being killed and took him to Tony Stark, where their unofficial team started to grow.
Bruce Banner.
He was perfect for aiding the team. He had many PhDs and used them for different situations. He could decode any puzzle and find the chemical formula for anything the group showed him. He was crazy smart but didn't like to fight. He helped plan missions for the team but always stayed back to keep watch or aid their wounds when things went south. Years ago, he was helping out kids who could not afford healthcare, and due to the fact he was making not much money, he had to do other things. He started dealing the drugs to earn extra cash and soon found himself looped into the Mafia, where it caught Nick Fury's attention. He was recruited to the team and has been out of danger ever since.
Thor Odinson.
He was perfect for guarding the team. He was a giant muscled man who was incredibly strong. He had a great range of fighting skills and was used for when fights got out of hand or needed intimidation. He could knock out a man in one punch and can crush skulls with his fist. But he was the nicest one on the team. He checked up on everyone and was constantly engaged in team-building exercises. He stumbled upon the Mafia when his brother was killed by one of the bosses. He went boss to boss, fighting them until they died from his punches. These fights ended up having him the nickname Thor Odinson due to the similar strength and build of the Norse god and how his footsteps resembled thunder when he walked. He found the team when he saw traces of the boss he was after and decided to stay with them to end his bloodlust.
Natasha Romanoff.
She was perfect for making deals for the team. She was a super spy, and she used her skills every day. She could find out information on anyone, making it incredibly easy to blackmail enemies and find new ones. She was always hiding during deals, becoming a shadow until it was time to attack. She was perfectly capable of doing any deal alone, but she never did. She trained at the Red Room to become the infamous super spy. Dreykov - a huge mob boss - ran it all until it started to fall apart. There were many women and girls at the Red Room, all training to become the "Black Widow." Many died trying to escape, but Natasha made it out and was found by Fury, who wanted her skills to be put to good use. And she soon found herself talking to Tony Stark and becoming his friend.
Clint Barton.
He was perfect for making plans run smoothly for the team. He was also a super spy who helped save Natasha from her torture. He was able to crawl in tight spaces and break into any building. He could predict the following movements of the dealers and had perfect aim. He was able to shoot moving targets from behind without even looking. He was always two steps ahead of opponents, making negotiations go quickly without his team members getting too hurt. He started working for the Mafia after his parents were killed in a circus accident. He impressed a few mob members who watched the show and was taken into their care. After seeing what they did, he ran away from them two years later and was trained to be a spy by Fury's group. One day he stumbled upon Natasha, which soon led him to be a part of the team.
Tony Stark (the one and only).
He was perfect for protecting the team. He was crazy smart and could invent almost anything. He made weapons and defences for his team to keep them safe during missions and ended up building himself a suit. All these weapons were indestructible, only his technology could break them. It all started after the tragic passing of his parents. He found out a gang murdered them, and he crafted weapons to kill them. Unfortunately, these attacks put him as a target, and he ended being kidnapped by the mob group, The Ten Rings. He was tortured, beat, and had a car battery strapped to his chest until his friend James Rhodes found him three months later in the desert surrounded by scrap metal of a flying suit. When he got back, Tony built the suit and soon became Iron Man, a mob boss that killed with weapons until Nick Fury found him and made him join a team.
Together they made deals go well and made themselves more prosperous every day. They were all friends and lived together in a huge tower. They called themselves the Avengers because they steal, trick, kill predators, abusers, and molesters.
"I'm going out to some restaurant for a small deal; does anyone want to come?" Tony yelled while walking. Nobody responded, so Tony rode the elevator down to meet his bodyguard, Happy who's nickname didn't really reflect the person.
Though Tony didn't need one, Harold (Happy) Hogan was Tony Stark's bodyguard. They were close friends, and Tony just let him keep his job as his bodyguard.
Tony heard the elevator chime and stepped out. He saw Happy grumbling next to the black car, and he flashed him a smile. Happy just climbed in, mumbling a "Took you long enough." that was loud enough for Tony to hear.
He snorted and climbed into the vehicle.
"Where to Boss?" Happy asked, looking at him through the rear-view mirror.
"Delmars. Some weird bodega in Queens."
Happy nodded and drove off at a speed that was not legal.
Tony relaxed in his seat and looked back at the dealer's text message. A man named Quentin Beck wanted to meet Tony in person to complain about how he ruined his life. Tony had received multiple messages like this before, but Beck was a name he heard being brought up in one of the exchanges. So, with his interest peaked, Tony went to meet Beck to gather some info.
They were 10 minutes into the car ride when Tony heard some commotion coming and shouting from a nearby alleyway.
"Hap, stop the car. I think there's a mugging; I'm going to go stop it." Happy rolled his eyes as Tony stepped out of the car.
He strolled towards the two buildings and heard two voices come between them.
"I will fucking shoot you!"
"It's kinda hard to do that when the gun isn't even loaded."
Tony heard punching and kicking and made his move, but as he neared the area, the commotion stopped, and he heard one of the voices travelling away from the scene, talking about karma.
He walked to the alleyway and saw a guy bleeding with a gun to his side. Tony sighed and pulled the body out of the alleyway and called the cops on the guy, just saying it was an anonymous tip.
Tony climbed back in the car, and Happy sped off, making the vehicle arrive at the bodega in 5 minutes flat.
When they arrived, it seemed that everyone recognized his car, and there were cameras and people shouting all over the street.
Happy got out of the car first and guided Tony through the crowd. Tony sent glares to multiple people, which made most of them back off.
Luckily for him, no one wanted to go inside the store, so it wasn't busier than it was supposed to be.
The place looked like a bodega but also had little red booths that were pushed further back in the store. They were numbered one through six, and if Tony remembered correctly, he had to sit in booth four.
He made his way down the tiled floors and met a man who looked older than him, standing there to greet him. He looked nervous, which was typical for anyone who laid eyes on Tony Stark, but he looked way too nervous. He made a note in his head to check on the man and sat down in the booth.
Tony watched as the man greeted him and quickly scurried back to the counter.
A few seconds later, Beck arrived with an angry expression written across his face. He sat down across from Tony, leaving Happy in the middle of them.
Tony didn't even get to open his mouth before Quentin pulled out a handgun.
"Listen here, Stark, I didn't come to play. I've hated your guts ever since you killed my brother. If you want to live, you are going to order something and follow me outside until we reach an alley."
Tony watched as Happy pulled out his gun, but he signalled him to put it down. He couldn't have innocent people dying because of this foolish man.
"Okay, Beck, I understand. Just put the gun away, so no one gets hurt." Tony said in a coaxing voice. He watched as Beck slid the gun off of the table and in between his legs, so the gun was still pointing at him.
Tony glared at him but looked away when he heard a breath hitch. He turned his head to see a kid that looked young, like too young to have a job young.
The kid had curly brown hair and deep brown doe eyes. He had some cuts on certain spots of his face and looked seconds away from collapsing. The kid was frozen in shock, and Tony just smiled at him. He never liked scaring kids, so he did his best to look sincere.
Seconds went by, and the kid didn't speak, so Tony spoke up.
"Kid? I know it's weird to see Tony Stark, but you gotta say something."
Peter blinked out of his stupor and hastily grabbed his pen from his pocket. He was a bit surprised to see Tony Stark smiling at him, but he was still scared when he saw the two other men sitting next to him.
"S-sorry, sir. W-what would you like?" He asked, smiling as nicely as possible.
Tony internally laughed and cringed at the kid. The poor guy had a slight stutter and was shaking. It may be funny at first, but it's not as fun when you're the one striking fear.
"Two cokes and two classic cheeseburgers please," Tony replied, watching as the kid wrote on his notepad. He couldn't help but wonder why he had to write down such a simple order.
"Hey, kid?"
Peter looked up at him with wide eyes, hoping that he wouldn't kill him.
"Why do you need to write our order down? It seems like a simple one."
Peter internally rolled his eye, keeping a fear-stricken face on the outside.
"Uhm w-well. I w-waited at a table who just wanted a basket of fries when they ordered, so I-I didn't write it down, but when I went to serve them they complained about how I didn't get the rest of their food, and because I didn't write down the order they claimed I 'forgot' and got me in trouble with the manager." He replied, grimacing at the memory of Toomes beating with a stick after closing hours.
"Oh, okay." Tony watched as the kid walked away, thinking about the grimace he made when he mentioned the manager. He couldn't help but jump to conclusions that maybe his manager got physical, but he stuck to the theory that he must've nearly lost his job after that.
Neither Beck nor Happy made an effort to talk, so it didn't help Tony's nosiness around the kid.
He watched the kid go back behind the old dented counter and talk to the same guy that greeted them. The teen looked somewhat nervous about talking to him, so Tony guessed that he was the manager.
"You better not have messed that up because my ass is on the line." Tony watched as the guy tightly grabbed the kid's wrist.
"I promise I didn't." Peter weakly replied. He wasn't in the mood to be hurt again. It was hard enough to be beaten by Richard, and Toomes just made it worse.
"Good. Because if you did, your job would be gone. And I'd have to beat some sense into you." Toomes sneered, and he released his wrist.
Peter shuddered at the thought and went back to the dishes.
Tony watched the whole thing unfold and couldn't help but clench his teeth when that guy got all into the kid's face. Yes, Tony didn't want kids, but it didn't mean that he enjoyed watching kids be threatened or hurt.
Ten minutes later, Tony and Happy's food arrived, and Tony saw the kid looked less nervous than before.
"Here you go, sir, enjoy your meal. Let me know if you need anything else." Tony smiled at the kid before he took off. Tony snorted at the kid's behaviour and dug into the food pondering again.
He finally got to hear a non-shakey stutter less voice that sounded familiar. It sounded like the overly confident voice in the alley. But it couldn't be; the kid was definitely not confident enough for that.
Peter was almost to the cash register when someone put their hand over his mouth and placed a gun to his head. The people who saw what was going on froze, and the others didn't freeze until they heard the gun click.
Tony lifted his head as soon as he heard that familiar sound and looked to where it came from. It was Beck standing next to that kid. The kid looked terrified and was eyeing his coworkers to hide. Tony slowly stood up and carefully and walked towards Beck.
"Take the gun away from the kid Quentin. You're angry at me, not him." Beck seethed and pushed the gun closer to the kid's head.
Peter tensed when the gun shoved closer into his head and hoped that Tony Stark could fix this because he didn't want to die.
"I'm angry at everyone; you can't stop me!" Beck yelled, pointing the gun at everyone.
"Quentin, c'mon," Tony said with his hands up, standing directly across from him.
"NO!"
Beck pointed his gun and shot.
Besides the loud boom, the only thing that broke the silence was the thump of a body hitting the floor.