Quiet

"Hello Mr Stark," a man in a stained coat leered at the Avengers. "A pleasure, I assure you."

Tony clenched his fist, keeping his eyes on the video. "Friday," he bit out. "Try and trace where this came from." Friday didn't reply, but he knew she was working on it.

The team watched apprehensively as the man took a step forward. He smiled, showing a row of crooked teeth, and his eyes glinted madly. There was a silhouette behind him, a figure thrown into the shadows as the man moved closer to the camera. He stopped when his face filled the frame, blocking the view of whatever was behind him. Or whoever, Tony's mind supplied.

"I'm sure by now you're wondering where your little friend is, but don't worry. He's perfectly safe." the words for now went unspoken, it was clear everyone was already thinking it. "But if you want to see him again," the man continued. "You'll have to agree to some of my terms."

He stepped aside with a flourish, and a collective intake of air sounded through the room. Peter was strapped to a rusted metal chair, bands of metal looping over his arms and legs. The most disturbing sight however, was the thick piece of metal that had been clamped over the boy's mouth, acting as a makeshift muzzle. Tony's heart stuttered as he looked at his kid. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Natasha's jaw tensing, and Steve was watching with cold eyes. Whatever this man did, he was going to pay.

"I realise I haven't introduced myself yet, how rude of me. After all, I know who you are, it's only fair you know who I am." the man stalked over to Peter's chair, placing a hand on his shoulder. The boy tensed visibly, but kept staring forward. "My name is Ivor, lovely to meet you."

"Friday," Tony murmured. Friday beeped quietly in response, doubling down her efforts in finding the video's origin.

Ivor pushed Peter's head forward and began twisting the band of metal there, loosening it. He pulled it away, not caring that the jagged end scraped along Peter's cheek, tearing against his skin. Tony saw the pain in his eyes, but the boy refused to make a sound, his hands flexing.

"I would say that causing pain to others is something I try to avoid," Ivor sneered as he tossed the metal strip to the side. "But that would be a lie. No doubt you've learnt about my organisation by now, and if you want to see your kid again you'll do what I say."

"Don't worry Mr Stark," Peter blurted out. "I'll be fine, just don't-"

"Enough!" Ivor slapped him roughly and his head snapped to the side. From across the room Wanda let out a small gasp, bringing her hand to her face. "I will do whatever it takes for my men to succeed. So, here are my terms." he stepped out of view for a moment, before returning with his hand behind his back. He resumed his position behind Peter, and raised his hand to reveal the knife he was holding. If it had been any other situation, Tony would have laughed at how comically large it was, but his chest tightened when he saw the blade. That man, that psycho, was going to hurt his kid, and he was powerless to stop him.

Clint ran his hands through his hair. "Jesus," he pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's just a kid, he can't do that."

Tony felt himself nodding, vaguely registering the movement. It felt like time had slowed down, and he watched as Ivor moved, bringing the knife towards Peter's chest. The silver glinted in the low light, steadily dropping closer. Ivor jerked his hand, and Tony felt himself lurch with it. A few of the others flinched alongside him, letting out a breath when Ivor simply cut away Peter's shirt, leaving his chest exposed. They didn't relax though, their shoulders tense as they continued watching.

"Such a nice body," Ivor sang, his smile growing. Tony felt sick. "It would be a shame to ruin it, wouldn't it? But, then again, I do love the sight of a fresh canvas."

"Oh god," Wanda whispered from behind her hand.

**********

Peter screwed his eyes shut when Ivor brought the knife down, but instead of being hit with a wave of pain like he had expected, his body began shivering. He cracked his eyes open to see his shirt lying in a crumpled pile on the floor. I liked that shirt, he thought glumly, but his attention was pulled back to Ivor when the man continued speaking.

"I actually consider myself something of an artist," the man was saying. "So let me start my masterpiece."

"Hey, woah, wait." Peter found himself speaking. His face still stung from before but he pushed on, hurrying to get his words out before Ivor hit him again. "Just one question, really quick."

Ivor turned to him with an unimpressed stare. "What?" he bit out.

"It's just," Peter wracked his brain. He hadn't expected Ivor to let him talk, so he searched frantically for something to say. Anything, a distraction, it's all he needed. Just something to buy Mr Stark some time. He knew the man would try and trace the video, so he stalled for as long as he could. "Okay, so- yeah, okay. Why would you take that metal off my mouth? Like, I can hear people above us, and you're clearly about to do something with that knife. And I will scream, so your cover will be blown."

That wasn't the right thing to say, and he knew it the moment he finished speaking. Ivor stood still for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to another, considering him. Peter's brain unhelpfully conjured up an image of a crocodile waiting to attack it's unsuspecting prey.

"There's no one above us," the man spoke quietly. "No one who cares, anyway. And your screams are just what I need." He gestured to the camera in front of him, the knife swinging from his hand. "A little motivation for your friend to get off his ass and do what I tell him to."

Peter felt his blood run cold. Yep, that question was a definite mistake, but he knew he had to stay strong for Mr Stark, so resigned himself to not making any noise regardless of what was going to happen to him. Ivor cleared his throat. "So, now that's over with, I'll get back to what I was saying." he reached over the back of the chair and gripped Peter's shoulder, his touch icy. The tip of the knife danced above his stomach, and Peter tried to steady his breathing and brace himself. "Number one," the knife was pushed into his skin, and he held back a cry. Ivor dragged the blade upwards, carving a line. "You stop any investigations into my operation."

"Don't listen to him Mr Stark." Peter's voice shook but he pushed on. "I can take it."

"Shut up!" Ivor hissed at him. He moved the knife to a new section of skin, just next to the fresh cut, and dug the blade in. Peter barely suppressed his scream, his voice muffled as he clamped his mouth shut. "Number two," the knife moved, drawing a second tally mark. "Anyone you have in custody related to me or my operation are released." A third cut was made. Peter snapped his eyes closed and tried to take a deep breath. "And number three, you destroy any information on us. Poof. Gone."

Ivor stepped back from the chair and made his way to the workbench. He dropped the bloody knife into a sink and ran his hands under the tap. Peter heaved a breath, staring at the camera and began mouthing at it, desperately trying to avoid Ivor's attention.

I'll be okay. Don't do it. Ivor turned around and Peter snapped his mouth shut, eyes wide.

"Wasn't that fun?" The man walked back into view of the camera. He spun around to face Peter, and his eyes were shining with rage. "I find it interesting though," his voice was low and full of venom. "That our friend here was so quiet. Don't try to be brave Peter, it won't end well for you."

**********

The room was silent, the Avengers trying, and mostly failing, to regain their composure. Tony was certain the sight of Peter forcing back his screams would be burned into his retinas until he died, and he hunched over as he tried to steady his breath. A sniffing noise caught his attention, and he turned to see Wanda wiping her eyes discreetly, Vision resting his hand on her back. He knew the girl saw Peter as a younger brother, that the whole team saw him as part of their family. Nat's eyes were suspiciously bright, and Pepper had turned away from the projection.

"Friday," Tony's voice caught in his throat and he tried again. "Friday, any progress?" Peter had been telling him to ignore Ivor, but every bone in his body was screaming at him to do whatever it took to get his kid home safely.

"None yet sir," Friday almost sounded sorry, if a robot could feel something like that. "But the video isn't over yet, so I still have time."

Sam shook his head. "There's more? God."

Ivor was facing them again, and he cleared his throat. "So, do we have a deal? Of course, you can't answer me yet, but you can expect my call soon." he grinned manically. "You'll come to find I can be a very dangerous man, Mr Stark."

A quiet laugh sounded and the team looked up in confusion. Ivor frowned and turned around to where Peter sat, smiling. "Sorry," he chuckled.

"What are you doing kid?" Tony muttered in horror. "Don't piss him off."

"Sorry," Peter spoke again. "But you sound like such a cliche bad guy." He raised his voice to a squeak. "Look at me with my evil base and rusty chair. I have an aesthetic." his voice returned to normal, albeit a little strained. "Face it dude, none of this is original."

"Stop!" Ivor screeched, and he stormed over to Peter. "I've had enough of hearing your voice. Just shut the fuck up already."

"I thought you wanted to hear me scream?" Peter tilted his head and looked at Ivor innocently.

Tony clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. "Stop it Peter," he whispered. "Please, for your own sake, stop it."

"You talk too much," Ivor growled. "Time for you to be quiet." he walked out of view, and a clattering noise started as the man presumably began searching for something.

Peter smiled, glancing into the camera. "I'm so scared," he joked. "Please scary man, don't hurt-" he stopped abruptly, and his eyes grew wide.

The tension in the room was palpable. Nobody moved, it felt like they were barely breathing, scared to break the silence. Tony's heart was beating rapidly against his rib cage, threatening to break free. His hands shook as he clasped them, silently praying whatever was about to happen wouldn't be too horrific. Peter looked terrified, and his face had paled dramatically.

"Wait, wait." Peter was panicking, looking rapidly between the camera and where Ivor stood.

"I told you," Ivor walked over to him. "Take a long look Mr Stark," he called over his shoulder. "This is what happens when you take it too far." he raised his arm, and Peter began struggling. He cried out, but it was muffled by the older man's hand, and his attempts to escape became wild, more desperate. He thrashed against his restraints, twisting his head from side to side as he tried to avoid whatever Ivor was holding. The minutes felt like hours, the sounds of Peter's wails filling the room. Tony wanted desperately to look away, but his eyes were stuck on the projection.

Ivor stepped back with a flourish. "There," he crooned. "Isn't that better?" The lights were too low for any of the team to properly make out what had happened, but Ivor dragged the camera closer to Peter. The boy was slumped against his restraints, his head against his chest. Tony cringed at the harsh red lines on his body, and noticed Steve recoil out of the corner of his eye. "Behold my latest art instalment."

He grabbed Peter's hair and tilted his head back so his face was in view. Wanda let out a cry and buried her head in Vision's chest, who rubbed her arm and looked at the floor. Sam and Clint gagged and turned away quickly. Nat's cool mask cracked and she gasped before covering her hand with her face. Rhodey muttered a quiet holy shit as he shut his eyes, and Pepper let out out a sob. Bucky, who had been silent up until now, cursed loudly and gripped the edge of the table with his metal arm, not noticing when it splintered under the pressure. Steve looked over to Tony, who sat frozen in his seat.

"Tony-" he began, but Tony stood up and swept out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He stumbled into the corridor, sinking against the wall with his head between his knees. His head felt light, purple spots danced across his vision. His breaths came out in short gasps, and he didn't register Steve's presence next to him until the man started speaking in a low voice.

"We'll get that bastard, I promise you Tony. He'll pay for this." His voice was trembling, and Tony shook his head, struggling to look up.

"I can't-" he rasped. "He- I don't know what-" he pressed his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. It took a few more tries, but eventually he spoke. "Look what he did to my kid," he said weakly. "He sewed his fucking mouth shut Steve, how do you come back from that?"