It was a normal night for Peter Parker - go on patrol, stop some fights ... So when he heard yelling he thought it would just be another easily solved conflict. Web up the criminal, make sure the victim was okay and go on his merry way. But he was a Parker, it couldn't be that easy.
He went towards the place the shouting came from, jumping between buildings and leaned on a lamppost when he arrived at the scene. A man wearing a black mask was pointing a gun at the head of a boy kneeling on the ground, shaking. A bag of fast food was strewn along the sides of the alley. Peter shuddered.
After a moment of doubt, he jumped to the ground, landing quietly behind the man. "Hey!"
The robber turned around, bewildered, and Peter took the opportunity to remove the gun with a web. The man charged against him, as Peter jumped behind him, placing himself between the attacker and his victim.
He turned to look at the boy who was still lying on the ground, his face blank with shock. "Run! Go away!"
The boy tried to stand, and after managing it, stumbled back and ran. Peter looked at the man again who was trying to retrieve the gun thrown across the alley and wrapped it with a web before he could reach it.
"Let's leave the gun for now, okay?" Peter came up while the man tugged trying to free the gun. "Now I'm going to stick you to the wall where you’ll wait until the police come for you."
Peter lowered his guard as he tried to get Karen to contact the police when a fist hit his cheek. 'Ow '. The man fell back when Peter pushed him and started to laugh.
"Do you really think you are the good one? Fighting criminals? Don't- " Peter grabbed the man by the neck of his shirt and pinned him against the wall.
Forgetting completely to contact the police, he decided to take care of the criminal on his own, get his hands bound, find out his identity and walk to the nearest police station. It wasn't the most efficient nor the most comfortable, but at that time he couldn't come up with any great idea.
Ignoring the man who was writhing under his grip hitting him on his side while trying to break free, Peter raised his mask and felt like throwing up, he knew this man.
His opponent blinked quickly, a surprised expression covering his face, so hauntingly familiar that Peter stopped breathing.
He had seen him more times in his dreams than he could count, always with the same expression of disgust, but this time it was the first in a long time.
He still looked at the same as that night a year ago, although the look he was giving was much less furious, no less surprised, in the bad way, that a Parker had ruined his game of unknown identity.
Now Peter was 15, almost a year older than when he saw Ben being shot twice in the chest, by the same man who was now writhing in front of him.
Peter grabbed his arm tightly and brought him to the height of his face, a small tattoo of a snake protruding from the black sleeve.
It was impossible not to notice, he could have recognized it even by simply the voice, he had spent the first few weeks of his new double life up and down the street that had been recently stained with blood, memorizing every feature he had managed to see from the murderer when his uncle took his mask off while trying to stop him.
The corners of his eyes were filled with tears, his feet were rooted to the cement, the takeaway the other boy had dropped a while ago, slapping onto the ground, just like that night a year ago.
Peter couldn't hear anything but the echo of the screams the lady behind him made when his uncle was shot and the sound of a phone his ears picked up at the end of the street, dialing 911.
The man escaped from his now weak grip and hit him before Peter could react. His head was spinning and his breaths became quicker and shallower. He saw the man run towards the end of the alley, the web reached him even before he noticed he shot it.
He began to tremble, but ignored it, and charged at the man in blind fury, the man hit the wall and Peter kicked him without pause, screaming at the top of his lungs trying to vent.
The street behind them was, fortunately or not, empty, unlike the illuminated street where the noise of the cars was muffled, so there wasn't anyone who could hear them, Peter and the man's screams resonated over the silence.
"Why?!" Peter cried.
The man stared at him.
"Why did you do it ?!"
"What?"
"Tell me!" Peter couldn't see the man through his tears but he could hear the confused noises he was making.
It was the third week after the shooting when he went out and bought a blue and red hoodie with a mask and he wore a homemade suit for the first time. He needed to clean the streets from people like the man in front of him.
"I- I don't know what you're talkin 'about, I-"
"Stop it! Stop lying!" Peter's cries sounded drowned because of the sobs that ran
through his body.
"I'm not- I'm not lying, I swear!" The man growled when he hit the wall again and punched Peter.
"Yes! It was a year ago, you were robbing at-at Delmar's, my-my u-uncle tried to-, h-he was, you-"
"Oh yeah," the man laughed, "h-he really thought he could stop me, didn't he? What an idiot, right? "
"Shut up! Shut up! You don't-" Peter cried loudly.
The man managed to hit him while Peter tried to balance his breathing through the mask and the criminal laughed.
"Oh, are you his little nephew? Looking for revenge for your poor old uncle?" He asked sarcastically.
"Don't! Shut up! Sh-shut the fuck up". Peter beat the man careless, not being able to see through the rage.
The man stopped laughing, looking like he just understood the situation he was in, they moved away from the wall while Peter sobbed.
"Look, kid, I-" the man coughed, "I'm sorry, I didn't even remember about it, you can't- please, I'm sorry but let me-"
"No!" Tears keep falling and they piled up at the corner of his eyes because of the mask, making Peter's blurred vision, "you ruined my life!"
He could remember the anguish in every defeated line of May's body, this man didn't deserve his forgiveness, he made Peter feel like dying, like if he was being torn apart. He punched the man harder and harder.
The man stumbled and his head hit the ground with a thud. Peter pulled away before the kick caught up with him and he fell to the ground beside him.
The criminal tried to sit up and leaned over him, knocking non-stop, the blood soon stained Peter's face, making his right side explode in pain while his eye went numb.
He managed to get out from under him and tugged at the collar of his shirt.
They told him Ben was dead before he hit the ground. They told him it was quick and painless.
He didn't want it to be painless now, he didn't want it to be quick, he wanted the man to suffer as much as he and May did.
He didn't want to see Ben's blood stained under his nails anymore, no matter how many times he had scrubbed to get it out. He still had some things to do.
All he could see was red.
"K-Karen, activate instant kill mode," he whispered.
The man seemed not to hear him and again tried to stand up, Peter's foot pressed against his chest, waiting to hear the sound of ribs crackling.
"I'm sorry Peter, but I don't see you're in imminent danger."
"Do it!" He shouted while trembling with rage, the man looked at him as if he had gone crazy, with a frightened look that he didn't think anyone could be able to do while looking at him.
"I can't do it without evaluating the situation before," Karen's voice sounded too calm in contrast to Peter's furious.
"I can't wait! Activate it now! "
"I'm sorry but I can't". Karen disconnected and heard an unusual whistle, though he didn't know if it came from his head or from the suit so he decided to ignore it.
He crouched down on the man again, ready to finish him off on his own when the world around him did a flip. Peter shouted and the blood splashed the floor and stained part of his face, his head hurt and the silhouette happened to be under him to be on top, Peter didn't even notice when the man turned him.
Despite the knock and the sticky feeling on the back of his head, Peter continued staring at the man, jumping between consciousness and unconsciousness.
He felt something liquid dripping down his neck as the man grabbed the edge of the mask and pulled it up, ready to take it off. Peter cried and tried to get rid of the grip, writhing softly while his shoulders trembled with sobs.
The noise of the horn in the next street alerted the man and the hand moved away from the face of Spiderman, the mask remained resting on his nose, leaving more space so that the short breaths, previously inaudible, resonated through the alley.
The weight that had previously rested against his chest disappeared and he heard a thud at his side. Peter found his chance and turned to the side, kneeling beside the man, not believing he had the strength to get up and pull another person.
The man finally seemed to notice the movement on his left and looked at him alarmed before a fist hit his face.
The blows increased at a constant.
There was a rustle and blood stained the red glove, the blood that came out of the murderer's nose had a metallic smell that made Peter want to vomit.
He could have saved Ben, he told himself every night, but he didn't, and now he had the opportunity to avenge him.
"Please! Stop!" Peter cried.
He thought of May's eyes the first time she went out after Ben had died.
She was afraid to go out alone.
He didn't want anyone to be afraid.
He could have saved Ben, and with every purse snatcher or would be mugger he stopped, he remembered Ben’s eyes, staring up and up, reflecting the lights of the windows around them.
That's why he had to finish with this kind of people. With this man. The man who had ruined his and his aunt's lifes, who had probably ruined more and more lifes before and after the night Peter lost everything. He didn't want that to happen again.
The man grabbed the neck of his suit and the two of them rolled down the alley, suddenly the noise of the cars could be heard louder and he realized that it had been a miracle that no one had heard them.
Peter's eyes ached at the light of the streetlights on the sides of the road, the man next to him moved and got up hard.
The man's features lit up with the orange light and Peter shuddered, bruises strewn all over his face and neck, his nose twisted and the blood dripped from it and his hairline. He seemed on the verge of death.
Peter looked at his hands.
"I-" he tried to approach the man. Honestly, he didn't know what he was expecting.
The man stepped back in terror, with a frightened look that he didn’t think anyone could make while looking at him.
Everything happened in less than a second, the man, Peter and the car advanced at the same time, the noise of the horn and the screams mixed in a filthy noise.
And then ... nothing.
His vision was a blur, he didn’t dare to look around, he heard a skid down the side the car had just left behind, more shouts from people inside the other cars, but still, nothing, not from the shattered figure in front of him.
His head seemed to be floating elsewhere
He felt very overwhelmed and small standing in place so full of people, everybody staring at him, whispering, the figure of the man seemed to be looking at him accusingly.
Peter ran.
He was disorientated. His surroundings were a blur. He kept running and running until his legs failed three streets below and he collapsed against a wall. Sobs soon flooded the alley. He didn’t even remember how to breathe
He didn’t realise he wasn’t alone, until someone said, “Kid-”
The words tried tumble out even before he could fully recognise it was Tony walking towards him, but his throat closed up and no sound escaped his mouth. Peter’s head was bent over his knees, fists pulled tight around his calves. He was shaking.
The words tried tumble out even before he could fully recognise it was Tony walking towards him, but his throat closed up and no sound escaped his mouth.
“Peter, look, I-”
Peter wanted to tell him, simply because he wanted Tony to tell him that everything was fine, but at the same time there was something compressing his chest, that didn’t let the words come out, that made him think that maybe if he just let it go and didn’t tell anyone, it’ll just go away.
Warm hands gently pryed off his mask. He didn’t try to pull away, or fight back, because there was no energy left in him to resist anything anymore.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He couldn’t bring himself to respond so he just tried to muffle a small sob and clutched his arms.
He could hear the police a few streets further, probably wondering what happened, trying to find Peter, to punish him, because he was just the aspiring superhero who killed a man while looking for revenge, he was a coward, he did what he thought was okay at the moment, he-
Then it all stopped. The noise, the people talking some streets behind. It all went away. Tony sat by his side and put his hand down on Peter’s shoulder.
“I know how you feel,you’re okay, you’re fine," Tony said softly, “please”.
There was something warm about it, Tony’s hand rubbing soothing circles into the tense muscles there and before he realized and Peter flung himself into Tony’s waiting arms as he cried, breaths hitching as they interspersed with the violent sobs that seemed to push his pain outward.
He broke.
He gasped like an idiot between each sob. He should be embarrassed about the tears and other gross things he’s wiping down Tony’s probably expensive shirt, but he can’t find it in himself to be so. He was exhausted.
“He was- I- I was ju-just-”.
“Shhh, I know, I’m here, don’t worry”.
He breathed deeply, trying to get used to the cold night air and to calm his breathing and met Tony’s eyes.
“I’m here, don’t worry”, Tony whispered softly, “don’t worry”.