(Graceless) - How Do I Live Through This
When Peter woke with a pounding headache, the first thing that he noticed was the leather mouth piece that was once again in place. He tried to wriggle out of wherever he was, unable to peel his eyes open due to the lasting effects of the drug. Peter noticed rather quickly that he was completely restrained.
With a grunt of effort, he peeled his eyes open to stare at the blinding white ceiling. Peter tried to look down, but stopped with a jerk. The thick leather strap that was wrapped around his mouth seemed to be latched to the metal table that he was laying on. Whenever he tried to pick his head up, he got very little movement with it.
Panic began to lace through Peter’s body as he remembered seeing the surgical table that had been laid out in the vast room. He felt his breaths catching in his throat as he began to writhe against the table. He felt cool metal straps across his ankles and thighs, his abdomen, keeping him from moving his hips. He felt the same metal restraint over his chest, forearms, and biceps. He was completely restrained, no way to bend out of the grasp of the biting metal.
He could feel the weight of the building on him - the fateful homecoming night that had left him with so much baggage - as he was no longer allowed to move. But there was no concrete to be lifted, no yelling for help, he was trapped with no way out.
Peter heard the door opening and his heart rate began to pick up drastically. He heard a quiet laugh from the corner, and Peter felt all of his self control go out of the window. Peter began to pull - yanking and jerking his body against the bounds of the table in any possible way to get out of this room.
Peter stopped when a warm hand rested on his bare stomach. He looked up, seeing Hammer staring down at him with a dark glee in his eyes.
“Listen - before my dear friend Damien arrives - I wanted to have a brief conversation with you.” Hammer began to pat Peter on the head, like he was a dog. Peter tried to jerk away, his neck being caught by the leather on his jaw. “I really want you to know that this isn’t personal. Well, it’s personal for Stark, but I couldn’t pain him in any way other than harming his kids. Now, I could have just used Miss Stark, but let’s be honest, even I have my boundaries. But you, I can hurt Tony just as badly by using you.” Hammer looked up watching as another man entered the room. Peter tried to look at the new person, but cursed inwardly at the tug on his head.
Then a new man entered, someone Peter had not seen before. He was tall and broad, with a face like steel. His eyes were so pale that Peter felt as though he were staring straight into ice. The man, Damien, walked straight up to Peter, turning his head to examine him. Like a hunter going in for the kill.
“Are you ready? I already have the camera set up - this is going to be a horror show for Stark. Can you imagine? He is crying with joy about having his daughter back just to realize that the thing we have here gave up his comfort and sanity for her.” Hammer made an amused noise. “Go ahead, do what I paid you to do.” Hammer said before stepping back.
___
All he knew was pain. In every inch of his entire body. Nothing more existed. Over and over again. Slices, tears, and hits. He had more broken knuckles than intact ones. There was something wrong with his right knee. Something so wrong. He had no clue how long he had been tied to this table. How many injuries had experienced, but when Damien had stepped away, Peter could have sworn that it had been the 24 hour period that Hammer had spoken of. He had felt as though it had been longer than that, but he prayed that it was over.
“Stand him up.” Peter’s body jerked, he had yet to hear Damien speak, and the rough voice caught him off guard. Peter heard the clinking of metal and undoing of locks. Then hands were lifting him up and he screamed into the leather gag, his body completely limp. He held no more energy as Knives and Knuckles hauled him off the table.
Peter felt tears leaking from him in relief as he was drug from the bed. Pain shot up his spine, but he was being drug through the room. The men carried him down the stairs, his feet dragging painfully behind him. His muffled cries did nothing to discourage the men around him. They made it to the floor that his room was on, but the men did not stop at the usual door. Rather, they took him one door farther down, and Peter began to squirm against their bruising grips.
He mumbled complaints, begging, and pleading for them to stop - but it didn’t matter. Hammer was waiting in this room with another camera, rolling his eyes at Peter’s shenanigans.
“Oh, Mr. Parker, did you really think that it had been twenty-four hours? You have,” He paused dramatically, checking his watch. “Twelve hours left to go.” And Peter broke. Sobs being ripped from him at a faster pace as the men hauled him up.
“We have two more forms of fun left.” Damien said as he walked into the room, wiping Peter’s blood from his hands with a cloth. “This one, well let’s just say that it is my personal favorite.” Damien nodded to Knives and Knuckles as they pulled his arms tightly behind him. Peter cried out at the sharp pinch between his arms.
He felt two manacles pinching his arms tightly together, straight out behind him, before something clicked into place holding them up. He tried to bend over, but the chains just held his body higher. When the two men holding him up let go, Peter’s knees buckled and he cried out at the strain on his arms.
With every ounce of strength left in his body, Peter locked his knees, working to relieve some of the pressure that was building up on him. He watched as Hammer smirked in the corner behind a blinking red camera.
Peter could handle this. If he had to stand like this, he could handle it. He just had to put his mind to it.
Then he heard the clicking of a chain.
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
And he screamed. A fire was set, burning from both shoulders, up and down his spine as he heard two very audible “pops”. Black spots danced viciously across his vision and Peter begged desperately to pass out. The pain was so excruciating that his limbs began to go numb. Like when you put your hand under water that was so hot that it felt cold.
Peter’s toes could barely reach the floor, as he was left hanging from the ceiling with electricity spiraling throughout his body.
It felt like Peter blinked, but when he opened his eyes it was just him and the camera sitting in the room. The pain was only growing worse and Peter could swear that both of his shoulders were being pulled from his body.
He cried. Weeping from a horrible cocktail of pain and hopelessness. Peter let his chin fall to his chest as he felt blood slowly dripping from the cuts that remained opened sluggishly, his blood clotting slower than it ever had in his entire life.
He blinked slowly, his vision fading into black as he thanked God for the peace of unconsciousness.
___
Peter woke up to the feeling of hands catching him, keeping him from falling on his face. His entire body was slick with sweat as the grips on his arms did nothing but cause him more terrible pain.
He wanted help. He needed help. What Peter would give for a kind touch - one that didn’t bruise or cut. One that would run its fingers lovingly into his hair, and wipe the sweat from his forehead. Peter wanted Tony. He needed Tony. To feel the love of a father, to feel safe. God how it would bring rest to his soul that he hadn’t felt in so long.
Then he was being drug to the wall on his left, he saw two manacles there and had he held any energy, he would have fought with everything he had to keep from being placed in them.
But he was placed, back firmly against the cinder blocks, as his wrists were latched into the manacles. It held his arms in a strange position, pinching the bloodied and blistered skin of his wrists, and binding his elbows just enough to keep him seated up. He was unable to lay down or get very comfortable, but there wasn’t any pain other than the burning that remained in his shoulders and back.
Then, because this was Justin Hammer, and nothing could ever be painless, the man walked forward with some type of collar. It had a four inch metal piece sticking vertically on it, both ends holding a forked prong. Peter turned his head away from the man, but he could do nothing other than try and sink into the bricks behind him as Hammers fingers undid the latch of the gag. Peter opened his jaw slowly, smacking his lips bitterly as his mouth ached from the dryness.
“Well, you have done so well up until now Mr. Parker. Two hours left, and you will get your break. Look at the camera and say hi to Tony. How do you think he feels?” Hammer questioned as Peter’s eyes locked with the flashing red light. He didn’t have the energy to keep his eyes more than halfway open, let alone actually speak. “What do you think Tony and Morgan are doing right now? Eating her favorite foods and watching a nice movie, would be my guess? I mean, he may not even open this email. If you think about it, he got exactly what he wanted. Maybe I should just kill you now, spare him the little guilt he may feel for letting you suffer for his kid.” And at this point, Peter may have accepted that fate.
But Hammer was not that kind. And suddenly a sharp prick of pain touched under his chin, forcing his head up before the same spike of pain hit right at the soft spot of skin above his sternum. It forced Peter's head to an achingly uncomfortable position as it was latched behind him like a collar.
Peter tried to shift his jaw, but immediately stopped when the prongs dug further into his skin. He was forced to hold his head up on its own, lest the blades cut into his throat.
“If you can hold this for two hours then we are done. Good luck.” Then Hammer was walking out the door, leaving Peter to bend his neck back farther. The position was just forced enough to keep him from being able to relax back against the wall. Peter took a deep breath through his nose as his lip trembled and tears dropped down to mix with blood.
Two hours.
Just two more hours.
___
When Hammer returned Peter could feel blood leaking from both prongs. He had no clue how far the metal had sunk into his skin, but every shift of his head, every breath that he took sent another jab of pain through his body.
Hammer stared at Peter with disgust.
“You made it, Mr. Parker. The boys will take you back to your room.” Hammer looked down at his phone, typing something out nonchalantly. “You will have a 24 hour break then I’ll be back.” Then Hammer left, as Thing 1 and Thing 2 came into the room. Peter cried out in pain as his neck was yanked back and the collar was removed. He felt as the prongs were pulled from his skin, and in order to get them out from under his chin, Knives had to push it farther into Peter’s sternum before he could get it all the way out. Peter cried out as the sensitive skin was dug into further. He knew he was drastically dehydrated when no tears came from his eyes.
Then he was being pulled up to a standing position, but Peter had no means to stand up. His head hung loosely, blood dripping onto the floor as he stared at it. Peter was drug, like a dead animal, back to his room. The men, not even having the decency to place him on the cot, left him on the floor in the corner. Peter turned his face into the concrete as the door was shut and darkness finally engulfed him. Sobs wracked his body as he was unable to stop them. No tears came as his body shook.
Eventually, the horrible exhaustion of the day overtook the excruciating pain that he felt, and Peter fell into the pits of sleep.