Instantly Attached

The smirk fell off Peter's face when he stepped into the apartment, it felt silent and empty, unusual for anywhere in Queens but especially May and Ben’s place. Instantly a hand was reaching for the knife he carried sewn into his pants, if anyone was here then they'd be dealt with. He listened intently for any noise but when he turned the corner all he could see was May. With one more quick survey of the room, finding it safe, Peter was walking hurriedly to make before kneeling in front of the sofa she was sitting on and placing his hands on her face.

Her initial flinch to his touch was enough to turn his already volatile emotions up levels. Something was wrong, very wrong, and he needed to do something. No one could hurt Ben and May. They were some of the few people he cared about. No one was allowed to hurt them. In an effort to contain his fury, Peter clenched his jaw so tightly that he felt his molars chip.

It took a minute, but he was eventually controlled enough to ask,”What happened?” It was more a statement than a question, but May didn't seem to notice, too busy releasing that someone was actually here.

“Oh Peter, he, he’s, he's gone.” The sobs in her voice muffled the words but for Peter they were clear. He's gone. Who was gone? God, Ben, no. It couldn't be Ben. He wasn't even meant to be out tonight. ”Who May?Who?” She seems unable to answer, but the shaking of her head was enough of one for him. Ben was gone, dead. Ben, someone that was his. At that moment, even though they were unaware, the perpetrators death warrant was signed in Peter’s mind. They would pay.

He put this thought to the back of his mind, knowing it could wait. The term ‘revenge is best served cold’ came to mind.

Anyway, right now he needed to focus on May. He pulled her into his arms and let her cry and sob while making quiet promises that it would be okay. The noise of her sobs pulled at his heart in a way that he can't remember happening in a while. It felt like she cried for hours before they turned into little hiccups instead of sobs. Rubbing his back in circles, Peter brought his mouth down to her ear and repeatedly whispered, ”Go to sleep.” to try sooth her into slumber. After a few minutes her body relaxed and her breathing calmed enough for Peter to be sure that she was asleep and he leaned back to close his eyes for a moment. He opened them a second later and took a deep breath, he would sort this out. First thing first was making sure May was comfortable while she slept, she didn't deserve anymore pain in any form and he would do anything to protect her from it.

Cradling her was easy. He could not quite remember when he got control of his enhanced strength but was certain that it was many decades ago. A light squeeze and a kiss to the forehead was all he could give in comfort to the unconscious body when it let out a small whimper. Mays room was to the left at the end of the hall, the biggest bedroom of the apartment while Peter slept in their smaller guest room. He couldn't help but ponder whether May would continue staying there after tonight or would the memories be too much. Peter shook his head to try rid himself of the distracting thoughts, he needed to focus.

After laying May down and tucking her in with another kiss to the forehead, Peter excited the room, turning the light of as he left. He then moved to his room to collect what he needed. When he was first settling in Peter had been constantly unsettled with the lack of defence he had. Against most he wouldn't even need a weapon of any sort, but it was better safe than sorry. On one night when he felt particularly vulnerable he had pocketed some of the cash, he had from raiding the Hydra base as he left and excited the apartment via his window.

In only a few minutes, he had been scaling the apartment building of a known arms dealer. He had restrained him from behind, chucked all the cash he had in front of the man and asked for the finest weapons he had. As an after thought he had made sure to ask for a selection; too much long range or short range weapons did not make for a varied fighting style.

That had been months ago, and he hadn't had to use them properly yet, in fact the first time he actually held one since that night was when he entered the apartment earlier. Now, though? They'd get a good break in. Each one was perfect, the finest materials around. There were even a couple vibranium one which he knew were rare in this area. The light shined of them the brightest but after tonight? He would be surprised if he could get them to shine like this again.

Once done inspecting his weapons, Peter quickly changed into some dark and flexible clothes and was of. Out his window again, he scaled the roofs of the surrounding building before travelling to the floor in order to walk to the side of the police station. He had pocketed the card of the detective on the case from Mays pocket so found it easy to locate the case file on their desk. One look told him that the suspect was in interrogation room three, so, with one last look around that precinct, Peter made his way in after checking it and the observation room was clear. The lock was pathetically easy to pick, especially for a police station.

Inside there looked to be a slightly balding man with a cut above his eye. He could see that it was slightly recent from the dried blood surrounding it. Whatever, Peter didn't have time to care. He walked over to the man, grabbed one of his arms and pulled a picture out his clothes with the other. It was of Ben. He pushed it in front of the man's eyes and, focusing on the heartbeat, asked, ”Did you Kill him?” When the man's heart sped up at the question Peter thought he might not get an answer. It seemed the man wasn't too frightened, though, as a wicked smile grew on his face, he seemed to be enjoying this, before he replied, ”No.” The uptick in his heart was enough for Peter to backhand him. The man was lying, he had killed Ben and so he would pay.

As quickly as he was in, he was out. Through the window this time, though. Bits of glass had scraped his prisoner but not enough to cause too much damage. After a quick inventory of himself, he whacked the man hard round the back of his head, effectively knocking him out. Dead weight was harder to carry but not by enough for him to care. A little extra weight was worth not having to listen to the man moan and whine until they got to Peter’s chosen destination.

Tonight he would be what Hydra made him.

The warehouse was dingy and slightly unkempt. A woman had sold it to him a couple of months back, just after he had obtained his weapons. She was shady and willing to do almost anything for the right price; they were Peter's main suppliers nowadays, again due to his stature.

Heavy metal doors were pushed open, there was starting to be a strain in his muscles from all the exercise that he had completed tonight. It was honestly disappointing, he should never have let himself become so lazy, the vigilante thing should hopefully help him with that. He couldn't be getting tired after so little time.

After leaving the man on the floor, Peter pulled out a chair from somewhere in the building, moving it upright and into the middle of the floor before tying a rope to each leg and then the other end to a different support beam in the warehouse. He repeated the same actions with the arms. It was something he learnt in Hydra, if you didn't secure the chair properly then the target could fall and die painlessly and quickly. To complete the picture, he went to grab the murderer before shoving him into the chair and securing rope along his forearms and calves, making sure it was securely tied to the chair. Once he was, he stood back to admire the already burning skin in between each line of rope.

A quick splash of cold water from the sea outside the warehouse was enough for the man to gasp awake. It took a minute of struggling before he finally gave up and realised that he should properly turn around to take in his surroundings. The sight obviously terrified him which only served to make Peter smile harder. He would make this man beg for death.
When the man caught sight of Peter, the emotions on his face seemed to morph into surprise. They always underestimate children. Oh well, it was a lot more fun to watch them fall like when they were unaware of what he truly was. It made the shame and embarrassment they felt all that more intense.

Peter had already started picturing what he would do to him.

He starts with the feet, skinning the pads off his toes before forcing them into a tray of dirt. The sting is obviously torturous, Peter knows from experience, and the scream that gets let out is decorated with beautiful whimpers of pain. He repeated the process on his hands and then fetched a lighter to cauterise the wounds. One important thing he had learnt from prior practice was that leaving wounds open and bleeding was a sure way to end the interrogation early.

After ripping a piece of fabric from the man's shirt, he tied it around his eyes, effectively blocking his visual sense. Then he found some dirt up and stuck it into his ears before securing it with some bunched up fabric following in after it. All the man had access to was his taste, touch and smell - all pretty useless if you aren't trained to use them.

Peter grabs some bleach, dipping his finger in before rubbing it harshly over the cauterised wounds. He doesn't stop there, though. Instead, he goes for more bleach, prying the man's jaw open with his other hand and smothering the inside of his throat with the cleaner, making sure to drag his nails a bit to leave a few stinging small cuts. Any screams are choked off by Peter’s hand still in the man's mouth. It seems the sounds are almost sinful.

When he gets, bored Peter is quick to change tactics. “Tell me, when you killed Ben Parker, did you like it?” The words are almost whispered and littered with hints of adoration. Men are very willing to admit to things if they believe that it will boost their ego. “Was the $25 you got from his wallet really worth all the hassle it's brought you?” In an even quieter whisper, he adds. ”I'll bring you?” The man, now shaking, clearly terrified but he doesn't say a word. With a quick once over, Peter is able to establish that the man soiled himself with fear. Ugh, cleaning stuff like this was always the worst.

It brought him out his stupor anyway, there was no need for a confession now. This man would make it before no jury but him.

So, with quick precision, Peter started to dance the blade across his skin, cutting some off from time to time, making sure to avoid anywhere vitally. The torso of the man was coated in blood, like he had been standing in the raining blood of enemies. Peter used to wear this aesthetic when he was celebrating, this man wore it in the shame of his own weakness.

To top off his exploration of the man's body, Peter pulled out the nails of every toe and finger then sliced random ones off without warning. Like normal he cauterizes the wounds almost as they were done. The topside of a finger without a nail always surprised him. It looked like the inner tissue of the body with less blood. It never failed to kind of disgust him, it was just one of those things he never got over - no one knew this but a close friend of course, he couldn't have this being used against him.

After a bit more fun however, the unfamiliar feeling of guilt started to creep up on him. He was sure that Ben wouldn't have approved of what he was doing and would probably in fact be horrified. Maybe this was only for him then. May and Ben would hate this. It was stupid of him to forget that really, their morals were super strict. This was handy at the beginning when he still had to learn to fake those.

Torture was meant to be a release, a form of revenge and Peter was sure it would be at another time. Right now, though? It felt wrong, as if he was somehow hurting a dead man. Peter didn't understand. Every emotion was too much to deal with right now so he tried to push it back but every time he thought to go back to the man and pick up where he left off, a sickening feeling overtook him. He had to finish this quickly, before he chickened out.

Quickly Peter grabbed the bottle of bleaching and poured it down the man's throat, not stopping to give him time to choke. When he took the bottle out, he was fast to force the jaw closed with his hands, not letting go until the body started convulsing, choking on its own vomit. The lifeless body didn't give him as much satisfaction as he thought it would. Now he was just overridden with guilt that he struggled to understand. “Спокойной ночи”

It wasn't the act itself that unleashed these feelings, more the reasons for it. Ben would not have approved and so doing it in his name felt like a disservice. Even though Peter felt it was more than justified it wasn't the type of thing you did for people like Ben. Ben wasn't like him. The thought saddened him somewhat, but he realised it was true but it didn't matter. He would never harm in Ben’s name again if he could. He has no problem hurting anyone in almost any way but never those he cares about. Ben should never be harmed, even from beyond the grave. Never Ben.