nine.
Peter Parker was finally going out on a mission. It was nothing close to the mission he wanted, but it was a mission nonetheless.
He was on a mission with Sam and Steve. A small infiltration to a base somewhere in the middle of Russia. There were only meant to be a few people inside of the base. It was supposed to be a quick mission.
Get in, get the data, get out.
Peter was fast. Not fast like Steve, but still faster than Sam, though he was a close second.
Peter was not, however, bullet fast. And these men had guns. Like, big guns. Like they had guns the size of Peter's leg and it was exciting but so scary at the same time.
Steve and Sam weren't phased by guns. They were in the military. They held guns and listened to gunshots left and right during each and every day of battle they endured. They listened to grenades and land mines blow up their comrades and watched the blood flow from the bodies of the fallen.
Peter hadn't seen a whole lot of guns outside of video games.
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The room was large. Giant walls of wet stone stretched out into the space where the lights would not reach. Crates upon crates of weapons lined these walls, the words 'fragile' and 'explosives' stamped onto the side of each one.
One wrong move would send the room up in smoke and flames.
In the middle of the room were three trucks, loaded for max weight and heavily armed. These were battering rams, meant to plow down everything in their path.
Surrounding those trucks? Over three dozen armed men and women clad in bulletproof vests. As if Captain America used guns.
Peter checked over his web-slingers just as he was struck by the realization that his suit was not bulletproof like Tony's was. He didn't have a metal arm like Bucky, or a shield like Steve. Even Sam had his wings.
All Peter had was his self-designed webs and the fear of death drilled into his brain.
He said nothing to Sam or Steve.
When Steve nodded at him from his place across the span of the doorway, Peter nodded back and crawled up the wall. When in position, he webbed the hands of five or six people before the bullets were aimed in his general direction.
Steve's shield bounced off of one of the trucks and swept a woman's legs out from underneath her. Sam kicked a man while he passed through the air. Peter jumped from the ceiling onto one of the trucks. All he could think about is what would happen were one of the boxes of weapons to explode. About how the walls would all cave in around them.
Suddenly, Peter couldn't breathe. Not for lack of trying, however.
He tensed up and lay flat on his back on the top of the truck. He could hear the bullets and he could hear Steve's shield. He could not hear Sam very well.
He looked over the edge of the truck and dove forward to swing between Sam and a woman that had him at gunpoint.
Peter kicked the woman back and she sprawled across the concrete. Peter webbed her down and then swung off once more.
It was only when the fight was over and his adrenaline died down that he felt the stinging pain in his side. When he looked down, he saw the blood seeping through his suit. He pulled on his jacket and said nothing once more.