Chapter 1
Peter had done it.
The Vulture was defeated.
But he was badly injured.
He slid down to the ground, exhausted and bleeding. He knew he should get up, swing away, but he had no energy left.
Am I going to die here?
It wasn't the first time Peter had thought of death tonight, but it was definitely the most ironic. He had lifted a building off himself, manually maneuvred a plane, had fought the Vulture several times and beat him, and in the end, he was going to die because he was too tired to swing away from the crime scene.
He was starting to feel dizzy and- wait a second. Was that a light?
He focused and saw that it was indeed a light, probably from a torch. He fumbled and managed to get his mask on before the light started to move in his direction. He heard footsteps and panting, and then . . .
"Kid?"
Peter sighed in relief. "Happy. Good to see you. I think I wrecked the plane, but -"
"Forget about the plane, kid!" Happy said, sounding panicked. "You're injured."
"No, I'm fine."
"Kid, shut up. You're most definitely not fine. Can you walk?"
"Don't think so," Peter replied a little drowsily.
Happy cursed. "Blake, Felix, get over here now! "
Peter heard some footsteps and two more men appeared.
"Is that-"
"Yes, it's Spider-Man. Save your questions for later. Right now, help me get him up," Happy said sharply.
Peter was hoisted up and he was moving. He could make out the blurry outline of a jet, probably what they came in.
"Head for the jet," Happy said, "He needs to be taken to the Compound asap."
"Got it," a man's voice replied, and then everything was silent. Peter was starting to drift off, no matter how hard he tried not to.
He was set down on a seat of some kind, but by now the voices were nothing more than background noise in his head; he couldn't make out what they were saying. He gathered that he must be on the plane now, and then he felt the plane take off, and his mask was removed.
"Kid, it's just me and you now," he heard Happy say, "we're on our way to the Compound-kid? Kid, stay with me!"
But it was too late. Peter had already passed out.
Peter opened his eyes blearily and looked around. He was in some sort of treatment room.
"What the heck?" he muttered, before it all came back to him. Vulture. The plane. Happy. And-oh.
He must be at the Avenger's Compound.
A woman walked into his room. "It's good to see you awake, Mr. Parker."
"Please, call me Peter," he responded, almost automatically.
The woman laughed. "Okay then, Peter. I'm Helen Cho."
"Cool," he muttered, "If I wasn't feeling so dizzy right now, I'd probably be fanboying."
Helen smiled. "Well, the dizziness is most probably caused by the sheer amount of drugs we had to use to put you under."
"Then can you get me off them?" Peter asked. "I really need to get home."
Helen raised her eyebrows. "If you think that I'm just going to let you go like that after you were so severely injured, you must be crazy."
"I wasn't injured that badly," Peter protested.
Helen's eyebrows climbed up further. "You have deep lacerations, several puncture wounds, two cracked ribs, three third-degree burns, a hairline fracture on your left arm, and an extraordinary amount of bruising."
Peter winced and sighed in defeat. "I'm not getting out of here, am I?"
"No, you're not."
"But I have a healing factor!"
"That doesn't automatically give you a free pass."
"Yes it does! It can heal broken bones and burns overnight, so I can leave tomorrow."
Helen said nothing, just kept staring at him. "And how do you know that?"
"That's not important," he said hastily. "Just tell me that I can leave tomorrow, Doc, come on."
She stared at him for a few more seconds before sighing. "I guess if what you're saying is true, then I can't keep you here any longer. But I'm going to make sure that you're okay before leaving, got it?"
Peter nodded. "Thank you."
"No problem. I need to leave now, but you have a visitor."
With those words she walked away, leaving Peter apprehensive, because he knew exactly who the visitor was, even before he entered the room.
"Hey, Mr. Stark."
Mr. Stark entered the room.
"Hey, kid."
"So, um, how are you?" Peter asked, internally cringing, because this was awkward as hell.
"Me? I'm grand, kid. The real question is, how are you ?"
"I'm fine, I guess. Dr.Cho said that she'll let me out tomorrow-"
"Tomorrow?" Mr. Stark repeated. "Why so quick?"
"Well, my broken bones and burns will mostly heal overnight, so I'll be good to go," Peter said, biting his lip and fidgeting nervously. "Did- did you- have you told Aunt May anything yet?"
There was an awkward silence after that, and then Mr. Stark said, "Look kid, about tonight-"
"Mr. Stark, can we not?" Peter interrupted. "I know that I'll have to discuss it with you, but I really would rather not deal with that right now."
Mr. Stark looked at him and then nodded. "Fine. But we will be discussing this tomorrow, clear?"
"Crystal," Peter replied with a hint of sarcasm.
Mr. Stark sighed and got up. He started to leave but paused at the doorway. "For what it's worth, good job, kid."
Peter's lip stretched into a tired smile. "Thanks."
The rest of Peter's stay consisted of a lot of resting. There weren't any other visits, so he just lounged around, waiting for the moment.
He had told Helen to discharge him quicky and quietly, hoping that he could leave the Compound before Mr. Stark caught him.
So here he was, sneaking around the Compound, with no idea where to go. He had no idea where he was, he just kept taking random turns and hoping for the best. He went up another corridor, took a right, and opened a door to find . . .
Mr. Stark staring straight at him.
He gulped.
He was so dead.