(Abandoned) - Don't Take Me Too Far
Peter woke up, staring at his feet being dragged over snow-covered ground. He heard men yelling, felt hands on both of his arms as he moaned from a blinding pain in his right knee.
Peter lifted his head, body too drained of energy to fight, staring at the view in front of him. He could see Hammer, holding some sort of gun in his hand, running and looking over Peter’s head. He guessed Hamemr had about fifteen men with him, and they were running straight towards the woods southwest of the compound.
Peter knew that Tony had to still be in route to the compound, but he didn’t know how long it would be. Hammer was going to take him again, and this time he doubted he was going to come back alive.
They were about thirty yards from the treeline when Peter heard a snick sound, and the thud of a body hitting the ground next to him. The men began to yell, moving faster than they had been as more shots rang out and more bodies dropped.
Bucky or Natasha were doign what they were good at, and Peter was terrified of it. He didn’t want to be here - he didn’t want - a shot rang out and the man holding his right arm went to the ground. Immediately following the man on his left, Peter found himself face down in the snow, barely having enough time to brace his hands before he hit the ground.
Then he felt arms on his and he was drug straight into the woodline.
“Stand up!” Hammer yelled, before basically ripping Peter to his feet. He cried out as Hammer threw one of Peter’s arms over his shoulder and began to drag him over the brush.
“I c-can’t.” He cried, because he couldn’t. He was shivering - from terror or cold he wasnt quite sure - and he was in so much pain, and his leg was bleeding and Peter was unable to do much more than hobble beside his kidnapper.
“Then grow a new pair of legs! We have somewhere to be!” Hammer cried.
Peter doesn’t remember much more than the cold and the pain. His left leg hopping at double speed in an effort to make up for the fact that his right lef was useless beside him.
He could feel it in the air - the way Hammer was so silent. He didn’t know what it was - didn’t know what exaclty was coming, but the raised hair on the back of his legs spoke for itself.
He looked around, trying to find an escape vehicle, someway for him to convince himself that Hammer wasn’t actually going to kill him.
But Peter had practiced enough with the Avengers to know exactly where Hammer was taking him. But what confused him was the fact that Tony had to have almost been here - the whole team had to be less than five minutes out - and Hammer would have never given in to being captured by Tony Stark. This psychopath’s driving motivation was to prove to himself that he was better, so
why take Peter here? Why commit himself to this fate?
Peter turned his head, and he knew exactly what was happening. Because in the achingly white snow, there were two trails of blood. A steady stream from Peter’s leg, and a larger stream from Hammer’s. Peter turned to look at Hammer, as the man continued to drag the two of them through the woods when he saw it. He had taken a bullet to his right side. There was no way he would survive it if Peter knew anything about human anatomy, the man was done for. This was no longer about torture, it was a suicide mission. And Hammer wanted nothing more than to take Peter down with him. Whatever getaway plan the maniac had had in play, had all gone out the window the second he had been shot.
“Don’t- you don’t have to do this-” Peter said through uneven breaths.
“Shut up!” Hammer screamed as the two came through a clearing. They were at the top of a steep hill that led straight down to a frozen lake. Hamemr stopped, his face a sheer white color as he
panted. “I’m better than him! I may not live to see his reaction to what I’m going to do - but I can die knowing exactly how much pain I caused him!” Hammer bit out. “I would’ve taken down the
little brat of Stark’s, but you’re much easier to get to - I guess he doesn’t care about you enou-” At the mention of Morgan, Peter snapped.
He grabbed Hammer’s shoulders, and yanked the man forward, headbutting him. But one sharp kick from the man to Peter’s bad leg had the kid screaming, as he lost balance. Peter kept his grip
on Hammer, and the two of them began to roll down the hill.
Peter screamed as his mangled leg twisted and bent with each tumble. His body went airborne for a split-second, and when he came back down his head cracked on the ice and his vision blacked
out.
Peter blinked, moaning at the jab of pain in his head and the bitter coldness surrounding his back. He turned his head to the right, looking for Hammer, he blinked hard, trying to clear his vision.
Then there were hands around his neck, and He couldn’t breathe. Peter’s arms flew up to see Hammer as he stradled Peter, pushing his weight into the kid’s neck.
Peter scratched and writher, doing everything he could to get some relief, then Hammer lifted him up, and with a violent shove, Peter’s head cracked against the ice. He felt the crack, more than
he heard it - his ears ringing. Hammer picked him up again and shove him back down - and Peter’s heart dropped as the ice underneath him shifted.
“Tony -” Crack. “Will have to live-” Crack. Peter’s vision blurred. “Knowing you drowned just like he almost did!” He screamed, Hammer’s nose dripped blood, and in the pale moonlight, and as Peter stared at this man - knowing full-well his fate - he felt like he had been stuck straight into a horro movie. His blood was chilled and every inch of his body wished that Tony was already here as the ice gave way and he and Hammer sank below the frigid, black waters.