Chapter 4
The wind blasted Peter in the face as he shot towards the sky. He kicked and flailed, yelling hopelessly. Massive wings batted the air above him, dragging him up towards the night sky. Below him, city lights formed intricate patterns. Peter looked up, straight into the neon green goggles of the Vulture, who stared menacingly back at him.
He was getting higher and higher, and he felt his throat constricting, as if not allowing air into his lungs. Suddenly, his parachute ejected, and he was yanked from the Vulture’s grasp.
He fell, tangled in his parachute, as he got closer and closer to the lake below. He couldn’t see, could barely breathe, his spider-sense was fired up and sending swells of adrenaline through his veins.
And through the panic, he swore he could hear someone calling his name. Peter! they were saying. Peter!
“Peter!” Natasha whispered, gently shaking the trembling teen. “Hey, bud, wake up. Wake up, Peter!”
He had been here so many times before, and Peter prepared to plunge painfully into the water-
“Peter!”
Peter shot up in his bed, gasping for breath, looking around the room frantically. It took him a moment, but he soon recognized his surroundings despite the darkness. He was at home. The Vulture was off in prison. He, Peter Parker, was safe.
His forehead and hair were soaked with sweat, his eyes watery and red-rimmed. His vision focused on the redhead on the floor beside him. She stared up at him, her cheeks flushed. She slowly removed her hands from Peter’s shoulder.
“Peter?” she whispered again.
“Na- Natasha?” he asked hoarsely.
“Yeah, just me,” she assured him. “You good?”
Peter was silent for a moment, the nightmare coming back to him in flashes. “Yeah,” he managed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a nightmare.”
Natasha nodded slowly, unsure how to respond. Dealing with clearly traumatized teenagers was uncharted waters for her. “Um… do you want to talk about it… or anything?”
Peter shook his head. “No, I’m okay. Sorry to wake you up.”
“No, no, no, don’t worry about me. Trust me, I get it.”
“Get what?” It came out harsher than he intended.
Natasha gestured aimlessly around the dark room. “You know… the nightmares, that stuff.”
Peter stared at her, disbelieving. “Yeah, right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re Black Widow. You don’t get scared of stuff,” he explained.
Natasha almost laughed. “Pfft. You really believe that?”
“That’s what it seems like,” he muttered quietly.
Natasha hesitated. She didn’t talk about this with anyone. Well, maybe Clint, once or twice. But nobody else, ever. She didn’t do the whole ‘sharing trauma’ thing. Nightmares plagued her almost every night, but they were completely off-limits to everyone else. And now, she was sitting right next to a teenager who looked like he was about to cry. How did she end up here, and where was the quickest way out?
No, she told herself. She had abandoned too many people in her life. She wasn’t about to leave Peter Parker alone to go through what she had. She would never force that on a person.
So, making it up completely as she went along, Natasha said to Peter, “Of course I get scared of things. All of us, all the Avengers have been through some serious shit, and none of us came out the other end the same as we started. Some of us are just really good at hiding it.” She paused, trying to think through all of the thoughts running through her head. “Nightmares are a regular occurrence for all of us, including me. Trust me on this. You’re not the only one.”
“But, but you’re so- you’re so cool-headed and brave and-” Peter hesitated as he searched for the right words. “-And nothing seems to faze you, and I just don’t feel like I can do that!”
Natasha nodded sympathetically. “Trust me, Peter, I’ve spent more time than you could possibly imagine working on hiding everything going on in here.” She pointed to her head. “You’re right. When you’re a ‘superhero’”—she put air quotes around the word—“and you’re incredible and brave and everyone loves you, you’re not supposed to be scared of anything. But really, all of us are.” She shook her head. “And maybe, maybe we should talk about it more, and make it clear that being an Avenger isn’t just punching the bad guys in the face and calling it a day. That it’s more… trying and difficult and damn near impossible than anyone who hasn’t done it could ever understand. Do you get what I’m saying?”
Peter sighed. “I- I guess. I don’t know.”
“Well, what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I want to be done with the stupid nightmares and the trauma and the expectations, but I can’t because I’m supposed to be Spider-Man. And I just want to be able to be a normal kid, but I can't because I’m not normal!”
Natasha hesitated, then said finally, “None of us are normal, really. None of us Avengers.”
“What does normal even mean anymore?”
She pondered that for a moment. For most of her life, her normal had been the Red Room, the KGB, and then her life with Clint and S.H.I.E.L.D. After that, she joined the Avengers, which she could admit never found a ‘new normal.’ Moving all over the place, sometimes with the whole team and sometimes with just a partner, fighting aliens and robots and such. And now, the past few months, on the run with no one, constantly moving from place to place and trying not to get killed.
What might come closest to being her normal was the Avengers, she decided. They were a family. Even with all the weird shit they did. But that was a group of supersoldiers and gods and geniuses (some of whom turned into monsters). So weird shit was normal if they were already weird.
But being an Avenger wouldn’t be considered ‘normal’ to your average civilian. Normal for them would probably be school, or their boring nine-to-five job. Nothing she had ever done would be normal to your average person on Earth.
So she said finally, in response to Peter’s question, “To be completely honest, I have no damn clue.”
Peter yawned, and Natasha scooted back to her bed. “You gonna be alright, Peter?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Oh, and, just wondering… Does May know? About the nightmares.”
Peter turned a panicked eye on her. “No. And don’t tell her. She’s already super worried about me, if she finds out she won’t let me be Spider-Man anymore!”
“I’m not going to tell May,” Natasha said consolingly. “Now, you get some sleep. If it seems like there’s something wrong, I’ll wake you up again.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I will anyway.”
They were both silent for a few long seconds as both of them adjusted their respective beds, and got comfortable. Then Peter said finally, “Thanks, Natasha.”
That surprised Natasha for a second. She hadn’t felt this kind of happiness in a long time. The kind of happiness you get when you do something good. “Of course, Peter. Always.”
Spider-Man swooped down onto a ledge overlooking the bay. Wind whistled past him as he perched easily, and Peter grinned at the amazing view. Ships flew across the water, tainted gold by the sun. Suddenly, his phone started ringing, and Karen informed him, “Tony Stark is calling you, Peter.”
Tony had taken to calling him once or twice a week to check in, and Peter couldn’t describe how happy it made him. He liked Happy Hogan, but having been completely cut off from Mr. Stark had been incredibly frustrating. So now, he savored every moment that he got to talk to his idol and mentor.
“Hey, Pete,” Tony greeted him.
“Hi, Mr. Stark!” Peter reminded himself quickly that he couldn’t say anything about being in contact with Natasha. He was determined to keep that secret.
“How are you doing?”
“Oh, not bad, Mr. Stark. It’s been pretty uneventful.”
“That’s good, good.” He sighed wearily. “At least one of us can say that.”
Peter frowned. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Tony said hastily. “I don’t want to get you involved.”
“I can help, if you need anything,” Peter offered.
“No, no, I’m fine,” Tony assured him. “It’s just that Ross has been on my back ever since… never mind.”
Peter bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying, since Natasha showed up in New York? No question about it, Natasha was why Tony seemed unusually troubled. Not that he didn’t usually seem stressed, but it was more extreme today.
“So anyway,” Tony was saying. “No up and coming supervillains that I should be worrying about?”
“Nope,” said Peter quickly. “We’re all good here.”
“Great, great. Well, make sure to call me or Happy if anything comes up.”
“Yep.”
“So, how are your grades? Grades good? They’d better be. Or I’ll sell your car.”
“I- I don’t have a car,” Peter stammered.
“Oh, really? Well, I should get on that, huh? I’ll mention it to Pepper…”
“Um-”
“But your grades are good, right?” Tony interrupted.
Peter nodded. “Oh, yeah, my grades are fine. Straight A’s, don’t worry.”
“Ah, that’s good.” Even though they weren’t on FaceTime, Peter had gotten used to the hesitation that meant Mr. Stark was taking his sunglasses off. “Good, good. And sorry if I seem distracted, as I mentioned I’ve got a lot of stuff going on right now.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay, Mr. Stark.”
“No, I should be a better parent than I am, and I’m sorry about that. Hey, you should come by the compound sometime. It’s been a while, right?”
“Yeah, it’s been a little while.”
“Awesome, yeah, maybe next weekend. Like I said, Ross has been hanging around more than usual these past couple days, and I have to be honest with you, he is dead set on figuring out who you are.”
“Does he have any idea, you think?”
“No, I think you’re safe for now. I don’t have your real name or face anywhere around here except for my most private and protected files.”
“What if he finds out somehow?”
Ugh, I need that like I need a hole in the head,” Tony groaned.
“Your mouth, nose, and ears beg to differ,” Peter pointed out immediately.
Mr. Stark was silent for a few seconds. Then he said finally, grudgingly, “You’re not wrong.”
Peter swallowed a laugh. He was well aware that Mr. Stark never knew what to make of his odd comments, and Peter never got tired of it.
“Anyway, don’t worry about Ross. Your identity is protected by the most expensive and advanced technology in the entire world,” Tony said, with more than a hint of arrogance.
“Cool. Oh, and how’s Ms. Potts?” Peter asked. He had only met Pepper Potts once, but she had seemed pretty cool, in his opinion.
“Pepper? Oh, she’s great. Yeah, doing well.”
“Tell her I say hi.”
Tony chuckled. “Will do. And about you visiting the compound, maybe let’s wait a week or two, see if things resolve themselves.” He sighed audibly. “Like that ever happens.”
Peter felt a pang of sympathy for his mentor. He was obviously under a lot of pressure, and it was taking a toll on him. But the teenager only replied cheerfully, “Okay, Mr. Stark. Bye.”
“See ya, kiddo.”
“Ms. Natasha, I’m sorry, I’m a terrible liar, so I just said I didn’t know anything, and kinda swung out of there, but they might be suspicious and-”
Natasha was on the phone with Peter, and he was talking way, way too fast. “Peter, slow down, and say it all again,” she instructed calmly.
She heard Peter take a deep breath. Then, “Well, those guys that I was telling you about yesterday, they cornered me.” Natasha’s brow creased in anger, but she let Peter continue.
“They asked me if I had seen you or anything, and well, I didn’t really know what to say, because I’m not a good liar. So I just told them I had no idea where you were, and then left. I don’t think they believed me, though. I definitely wasn’t very convincing…”
“And Ross’s men are always suspicious,” Natasha muttered. “Well this is just great. Listen, all you should do is just stay out of trouble. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Yeah, yeah. Nothing stupid.”
“You repeated that in a way that made me wonder if you do stupid things a lot.”
“Define ‘stupid.’”
“Nope. Just be… chill. Don’t bother people.”
“Okay. Oh, and by the way, I’m having dinner at my friend Ned’s house. So I won’t be home till later, if that’s okay.”
Natasha nodded resignedly. “Yeah, that’s cool. Have fun.”
“I will. See ya.”
“Bye.” Natasha hung up, but this time she didn’t throw her phone. Her irritation with her whole situation was at a boiling point, but she forced herself to sit back down, and open her book. This whole thing was too damn stressful.
A few hours later, Natasha was sprawled across Peter’s bed. May had made soup for dinner, but Natasha had felt exceedingly awkward without the presence of the energetic teenager. So she had thanked May, excused herself, and retired to Peter’s bedroom.
She held the third book of the day above her face, but had lost interest probably fifteen minutes ago. She rolled onto her side. And then she jumped to her feet.
Her ears pricked, and she heard it again! The distinct sound of the zipping of Peter’s webs, plus trash cans banging. She bolted to the window, and looked down to the ground. There was Peter, dressed in his Spider-Man suit, fighting a group of big, burly thugs. She counted six.
One of them one lay on the ground, unconscious, but the rest were still awake as ever. Ross’s men. Trained fighters. Without another thought, she leapt out the window, and landed hard on the metal stairway on the outside of the building. She raced down the stairs, planning her attack in her head.
Her loud footsteps did not go unnoticed. A few of the men turned around angrily to look at her. One of them put a radio to his mouth. “Backup. We need backup. We have eyes on Romanoff,” she heard him say.
Before he could say anymore, though, he was wrapped up in webs. Peter was there in a flash, yelling, “Shut up, man!” He kicked the offender’s legs out from under him, then punched his lights out. The man slumped to the ground.
By then, Natasha was flying off the stairs, and had her thighs wrapped around another thug’s neck in her signature move. Shots echoed around her, but she dodged them easily, and brought the man to the ground, bashing his face into the concrete. Three more to go.
But it wasn’t to be. Three black, bulletproof trucks skidded around the bend, and more soldiers, twelve, by Natasha’s count, filed out.
Peter had just taken down another, leaving fourteen in total. He webbed the last two of the original six’s hands to the side of the building, stopping them momentarily.
“Get out of here!” Natasha yelled at him.
“I’m not leaving you!” Peter flipped away to dodge incoming bullet fire, yelling, “I HAVE THE POWER OF GOD AND ANIME ON MY SIDE!” He screamed and charged.
Natasha sighed, then sprinted towards the other two. She came at the first one with enough force that her kick to the face knocked him out completely. She kneed the other one in the groin, then in the face. She finished him off with a punch, hearing the satisfying crunch of a broken nose.
Meanwhile, Peter had taken care of one of the newer guys, kicking him into a wall, then blasting him with some sort of web that stuck him there. Natasha noted the incredible speed and agility with which he dodged the bullets flying around him. The kid was really something.
Natasha knew that she couldn’t attempt to fire her gun, which was hidden in her jacket. There was too high of a chance that she’d hit Peter. She was an amazing marksman, but Peter was moving quickly, jumping from one opponent to the next. She wasn’t going to take that risk. So instead, she ran in to help Peter with the hand-to-hand combat.
A bullet grazed her left arm, enough to draw a trickle of blood, but not much else. She kicked the gun out of the shooter’s hand, then grabbed his arm, and snapped it easily. She grasped his leg, and threw him into one of the trucks. She spun around, just in time to dodge another few shots, and kicked her new opponent in the kneecap. He crumpled, and she pushed her foot into his back, sending him face first into the ground.
She stood up, and slid out a small, razor sharp knife from her sleeve, twirling it in her hand with a show of expertise. All thoughts of not killing Ross’s men were in the past. She couldn’t afford that when Peter was involved.
Spider-Man was swinging around, and he built up enough momentum to kick another gunman into his truck, denting it. He did a flip, and kicked the guy in the face, while rolling to sweep another attacker’s feet out from under him. Peter webbed him to the ground, and then scampered away, taking inventory. Seven left.
Natasha sliced her first opponent across the ribs, then kicked him in the chest. She whirled around, and stabbed the next guy in the shoulder. She pushed him into the truck, then punched him in the face.
But before she could turn around again, an iron grip caught her knife hand. He twirled her around to face him, and she backed into the side of the truck. She had nowhere to go. Her throat constricted in panic.
Peter stood up after knocking two more guys down, only to see Natasha being cornered by one particularly large thug. He started towards her, but somebody tackled him from the side, and he was thrown to the pavement.
Fear rose in Natasha’s chest. The thug leered at her. “We have orders to bring you in,” he told her. She growled, punched him in the gut, then went for the neck with her knife. But before she could stab him, he once again had her wrist in his grasp. She gasped in pain as he squeezed it unbearably hard, and the knife clattered to the ground.
The man picked it up. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t hurt you.” And he plunged the thin dagger into her right arm. Natasha let out a hiss of pain. Behind her opponent, she could see Peter desperately fighting to get to her. But he was surrounded by four more opponents.
Her attacker suddenly punched her across the face, and she saw stars. Dammit. She had forgotten that her jaw still hadn’t healed. That mild injury was getting quite annoying.
She reached for her pistol, and the man grunted as she managed to shoot him in the stomach. Blood soaked his shirt, and dripped onto her own, but the wound wasn’t fatal. Before she could do anything else, he had knocked the gun out of her hand.
Her injured enemy had her pinned against the truck. Her arm was screaming in agony. He opened the door, just as Peter jumped up from the mess of broken bodies around him.
“NATASHA!!” Peter’s strangled scream echoed in her ears as the man pulled her away. Then, he slammed the back of her head into his truck, and darkness enveloped her.
“NATASHA!!” Peter howled helplessly as the last of Ross’s men dragged Natasha’s broken form into his truck, and drove off. He aimed his web at the truck, but his hands were shaking, and it missed.
He sprinted forward, shooting another web. This time, the mesh just barely caught on the back. He sighed with relief, and then yelped in surprise as he was yanked forward.
His body scraped along the concrete roads as he held on tightly to the web. He couldn’t lose Natasha. He couldn’t. He forced himself to his feet, and frantically shot another web. But just as it came out, the truck turned, and he flew to the side. His web was nowhere close.
“Shit,” he muttered to himself. But he was still hanging on, his feet scraping along the pavement as he struggled to stay upright. Natasha wasn’t gone yet. He had slid down several streets now, but his grip was slipping. He grunted as he tried for another web, and this time it stuck to the rearview mirror. He grinned triumphantly to himself.
His pull on the web made the truck careen to the side, which bought him a few moments to get closer before the vehicle got back on track.
Then, he heard the roar of an engine behind him.
He looked over his shoulder, and the headlights of another big van glared back at him. It was approaching, and fast. He grunted again as he slowly pulled himself closer to Natasha’s car. He was so close…
His spider-sense flashed, and he looked around. “Karen?”
A huge truck sped toward him from his left, and he felt himself fly backwards when it hit him. The back of his head knocked a tree, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.
Peter grunted as he pushed himself painfully to his feet. He looked around, but the trucks were nowhere to be seen. Natasha was gone. “Karen?” he asked in a small voice. “How long was I out?”
“Only for five minutes and twenty-two seconds, Peter. But you appear to have lost Ms. Romanoff.”
Peter ran down the dark street. “No, no, no! This can’t be happening!” He put his head in his hands. “Natasha’s in so much trouble!” he moaned.
Karen responded, calm and collected as always. “Peter, it is probably best for you to go home. It is eleven thirty-three P.M., and you should get some sleep.”
“But I have to find Natasha!”
“It seems Ms. Romanoff took the liberty of placing one of your trackers from your bedroom on her clothes.”
Peter laughed out loud in relief. “You’re kidding? Oh my god, she’s so smart!”
“She is quite intelligent. It probably comes from being a trained spy. She must have predicted that she might get in a spot of trouble. Now, you should get home. Tomorrow is Saturday, and we can formulate a plan. But you need to get some rest.”
“But they’re gonna kill her!”
“Thankfully, that doesn’t seem to be their goal,” Karen pointed out. “I am certain she has been in situations like this before. And you can’t storm their facility alone with no plan.”
“Well, let’s make a plan now!”
“Peter, that’s not a good idea. You need time to rest and heal. Trying to get her now would be suicide.”
“How do you know?”
“I am a multi-billion dollar A.I. system, Peter, I know what I’m talking about.”
“How hard could it possibly be?”
“Nearly impossible without someone outside of the facility hacking the extremely protected systems in order to help you out.”
“I’ll get Ned!” Peter argued.
“Get Ned tomorrow, Peter. Natasha can handle herself for one night.”
Peter sighed, thinking it over. He knew that Karen was right, trying to save Natasha would be a terrible idea without a plan. He could get captured, or even killed. He could have his identity exposed, which would get not just Spider-Man, but also Peter Parker, along with Mr. Stark, in huge trouble. “Okay. Fine,” he relented. “But tomorrow we’re figuring this out.”
He swung back to his apartment, zipped through the open window, and changed into his regular clothes. Then he collapsed onto his bed, and fell asleep.
“Where the hell is Natasha?”
Peter’s eyes shot open at the sudden noise. He lay there, unmoving, for a few moments, then finally groaned as he threw his covers off of him. He squinted at the door. There was his Aunt May, looking quite severe. “Ugh, hi May.”
“Did our guest just disappear in the middle of the night?”
Peter sat up, rubbing his face. “Um, yeah, about that…”
May glared at him.
“Well, you might have seen, there was sort of a fight last night outside our apartment.”
“I did see.”
“Yeah, so some guys were after Natasha, so they cornered me to ask if I knew anything about her, and I told them I didn’t, then they came after me, and then Natasha came down to help, and then they took her.”
“They took her?”
Peter nodded, the memory of Natasha’s limp body being dragged into the truck fresh in his mind. “Yeah, I don’t know where, but I can figure it out! I’m gonna find her, and get her out of there, don’t worry!”
May sighed, and sat down in his chair. The one Natasha had sat in just yesterday. “Peter, maybe you should let her deal with it on her own.”
Peter stood up, running his fingers through his messy hair in distress. “What? No! I have to help her!”
May looked at her feet. “Peter, this sounds like an extremely dangerous situation, and you’re going against the government here. It would be nice if you didn’t get caught up in it.”
Peter shook his head violently. “May, I-”
His aunt held up a finger to silence him. “You didn’t let me finish. I would love it if you didn’t get involved. But, I know that your heart is too big and you’re too headstrong and reckless to take my advice, and I’ll never be able to stop you. So, you can go ahead and be a superhero. Just do me a favor, and bring Natasha back. I want to know her opinion on my walnut date loaves.”
Peter stared, then sat back down on his bed. “Wow, um, thanks. Yeah. Thanks. That’s cool.”
May stood up. “Good. Now, get up. I’m making waffles, and then you can figure out your game plan.”
Peter beamed, and let May muss his hair. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
May left the room, and suddenly Peter had a surge of inspiration. He spun around. Natasha might have left her phone here! After a few minutes of searching, Peter’s suspicion was confirmed. Natasha’s phone sat facedown on top of his bookshelf, an Obi-Wan Kenobi figurine propped on top of it. He grabbed the phone, making sure to place Obi-Wan carefully on the shelf, and pressed the home button.
A ridiculous picture of Bugs Bunny and the words get off my phone motherfucka stared back at him.
Peter couldn’t help but snort with laughter. Natasha was the most complicated and puzzling person he had ever met, no doubt about it.
An hour later, Peter spun around in his chair, mask on, holding the tracker in his hand. It displayed a holographic map of New York. Ned Leeds sat on his bed, leaning over his best friend’s shoulder to observe the map.
“So,” Peter began, “It looks like she’s in some sort of underground lair sort of place in New York, right, Karen?”
“That seems to be correct,” the A.I. replied.
“Another underground lair? That’s so cool!” Ned exclaimed. “Do bad guys always have those?”
Peter whirled around to face him, using his feet to push off from the desk. “Yeah, like, always. It’s a thing.”
Ned nodded. “Of course, of course. Obviously. Underground lair, just like in the movies.”
“Do you think bad guys just get their plans from movies?”
“Do you think superheroes just get their plans from movies?”
Peter pointed his pen at Ned. “That’s a good point. Okay. Let’s get to it. I need a way to get into this place.”
The map zoomed in to a pulsing red glow, which represented Natasha.
“It appears to be under the Subway station,” Karen explained. The map zoomed in more, enough to see the outline of a door in the wall of the Subway system. “There are two entrances that I can see. One is quite out in the open, through a government building. I would advise that you do not use this.
“The other is an entrance that is well hidden and almost impossible to see with the naked eye without knowing that it’s there. It is old, and has not been used in a very long time, probably a year or more. Below it is an elaborate complex.”
Peter and Ned both nodded. “Awesome,” they chorused together. Then they both burst out laughing.
Karen interrupted them, taking the map down the hallway. “Ms. Romanoff is in one of these cells, deep underground, one of the farthest from the entrance. Unfortunately, I cannot see if there are any people around.
“You will need to fight through the hallways, and generally cause mass panic in order for Ms. Romanoff to escape, which I’m sure she will be capable of, once she realizes what’s going on.”
Peter nodded again. “Doesn’t seem too hard.”
Ned patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll be your guy in the chair.”
“Ned, you might need to hack Ms. Romanoff’s cell in order to open it. She’s good at escaping, but she’s simply not strong enough to bust through a four inch steel wall,” Karen added.
“Sounds good, Karen.”
Peter tore his eyes away from the map, butterflies forming in his stomach at the prospect of a new mission. “Yep. We’ll do it tonight.”
Ned bounced on the bed, making it creak loudly. “Awesome.”