Im back bitches
Malcom strut through the door with the same air as a peacock, invisible feathers puffed up with the sheer arrogance he was emitting from his huge, bulking figure. He was once again followed through by three bodyguards, one gun expertly trained on the heads of his stressed out family members.
The family therapy bills would be through the roof after this.
As soon as the first foot crossed the threshold of the cell door, his brothers were fighting to be the center of attention, yelling and screaming obscenities at the boulder of a man, who took all verbal hits without so much as an eyebrow twitch.
Peter was silent. Too much was on the line, here. Mr Stark knew where he was, it was only a matter of time before his mentor would come and rescue him and his brothers. He couldn't afford to run his mouth and get one of his siblings killed for his inability to keep his thoughts to himself.
It was bad enough loosing their parents. Ben. He couldn't be the reason they loose another family member.
Couldn't bear the guilt.
Nevertheless, he still screamed when malcom started to beat on Tobey, instead.
The poor man's head was brutally whipped the side as the full force of the man's hand came crashing down on his left cheek, easily bruising the palid skin and giving him a mark not unlike Peters own.
"STOP!" Peter wailed in panic. This wasn't how it was supposed to go? This wasn't how it was supposed to go! Dont hit Tobey hit HIM! he could take it! His brother..so fragile, so... frail. His bones could easily shatter under the force of a mere flick of his capturers fingers, his skin torn by a breath.
Him, however? He could take it all.
Being shot? It'll hurt, but sure!
Being beat until black and blue? He was used to it.
Being stabbed? Take the knife out, its fine. He had a healing factor.
Being crushed under a building? Been there done that!
So maybe that's why he did what he did.
"No! Hit me you fucking...fucking asshole!" He yelled, voice breaking and cracking under the stress of it. He had assumed that the big man would become offended, to look at him with a scowl and yell about how disrespectful he was and punch him through a wall.
But he didn't. Instead Malcom turned around to the boy with a smile like a crocodile, like he had been waiting for his intervention, and the shot of adrenaline that was sent through Peters bloodstream felt like lightning.
"Now, there we are! How admirable."
"DONT YOU FUCKING DARE" Wade grit, resuming his struggling against his restraints with renewed vigor. The bonds were stained crimson. Tobey was still dazed, and Andrew was utterly useless, staring but not comprehending.
Or, he wasn't, until malcom turned and punched him in the stomach.
Peters throat was surely bleeding with how much he was screaming.
His brother closest in age was bent double against his bonds, wheezing, and without any way to check, he just had to hope nothing was broken or bleeding. Wade was now bloodthirsty. Not only had his two brother-in-laws been hurt, but now the love of his life.
"Please!" Peter sobbed, completely embarrassed at the tears soaking his lashes but unable to stop them. God, how could he do this to them?
Malcom turned back to him, and smiled cruelly. He only ever smiled at him.
"Beg." He said. Peter fought back the urge to gag.
"Please.." he whispered brokenly, and lowered his eyes to the floor.
Being punched never felt so good.
Watching the colossal man descend on his littlest brother had Tobey screaming in horror. The man was clearly no longer holding back, landing savage punch after savage punch on the body of his still sibling. Little specs of blood had started raining down onto the floor, creating a horrifying pattern on the concrete.
Peter was taking it all without complaint, small whimpers or thrashes being the only reaction he gave, something that seemed to fuel malcoms ever growing malicious intent.
Wade hadnt stopped trying to escape his bonds.
It was so loud.
And so earth shattering.
is my baby brother going to die?
He prayed to Ben that he wouldn't.
It seemed an age before Malcom stepped back, producing a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiping his hands with it like an old-timey movie villain, looking down at the crumpled teen, who's eyes were glued firmly shut.
"Now", he crooned. "What do we say?"
Nobody in the room thought that Peter was still conscious, but apparently his bullshit could reach across the barriers of space and time.
"You hit like a woman".
The kick to the chest actually felt like a victory, to be completely honest.