Chapter Text
“Please, pl-please don’t kill me!” His voice cracked. His eyes glittered under the pale lamplight, pleading up at me desperately.
Blood trickled slowly down the right side of his face, seeping almost gracefully from the large gash on his forehead. Tears streamed down his cheeks, racing against the line of red that flowed down his face. It was almost as if they were competing to see who could reach his chin the fastest.
I watched, for a moment, mesmerized by the way the two came together to create a pretty shade of pink. Pink was such a lovely color; a happy color; a safe color.
“I have a family- oh god please!” He sobbed, lips quivering and eyes slamming shut.
I could feel him gulp underneath my palm, his heartbeat pounding harshly against my fingertips. The hand that held onto his throat was almost comically smaller than the full width of his neck, but that didn’t waver my ability to keep him in place.
This was too easy. Too simple.
His neck was rough, the unkempt stubble that littered his face felt coarse under my hand as he shifted, pulling away from me. My grip stiffened, and he whimpered.
Clammy hands desperately grabbed my wrist, pushing and pulling and scratching any exposed skin. His nails dug into my forearm, creating small crescent-shaped indents into my flesh. He pressed as hard as he could, bearing down with a clumsy grasp. His grip was weak and shaky, but it was enough to draw blood.
It only stung a little. But now, I too, was covered in red.
Red-what a fascinating, yet horrible color.
It was haunting to look at really. Aggressive and angry in the way it shined against the light.
I hated it.
His whole body was tense under my touch, body vibrating with fear and desperation. His legs were useless now. Twisted in an unnatural way at the knee on his right side and a bone poking up out of his thigh on the left. He was broken and covered in red, but he still tried to kick out. He squeaked in pain, choking out a small sob as he continued to squirm.
He still had the will to live. He was still trying to fight.
It was almost admirable.
I once again watched him for a moment, taking in his matted, blood-stained blonde hair and the droplets of sweat that misted his flushed face. His lips were chapped and soaked with a mix of his own blood and tears. His whole face seemed to glitter under the light.
It was a pretty sight.
He stared up at me, green eyes sparkling with fear, still pleading for me to release him. They danced along my face, seemingly searching for any glimpse of humanity.
Perhaps, if circumstances were different, he would have found what he was looking for.
If only things were different.
“Kill him Marionetă.”
And with just a small shift of my wrist, his body went limp underneath my fingers and his final breath had gotten caught in his throat. The life in his eyes faded, no longer holding the fear that once drowned them. But still- his eyes.
His eyes still stared back up at me.
~~~~
It was a beautiful, quiet summer day in Upstate New York.
The sun’s bright rays shined happily down towards the earth, covering the Avengers Compound like a warm, comforting blanket. It wasn’t very hot today, thanks to the chill breeze that drifted in from the north. The trees waved softly down at the building, with vibrant green leaves that seemed to smile up at the sky. The faint smell of mixed flowers lingered in the air, with loose petals and leaves dancing carelessly in the wind.
It was such a beautiful, quiet summer day at the Avengers Compound. It was a rare (and almost foreign) occasion, especially in light of past events. It begged the question, why were all the Avengers, ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’, cooped up inside on such a gorgeous, quiet day?
Well, not all of them were.
Peter Parker, one of the Avengers youngest members, laid haphazardly on the highest point of the compound. His feet dangled carelessly off the edge of the building, while his back pressed firmly against the warm concrete of the roof. His head, topped with messy locks of brown hair, rested comfortably on top of a navy blue backpack, which was filled with a random assortment of textbooks, a small first aid kit, and even his costume.
Spiderman’s costume.
He wasn’t wearing his usual alter ego attire, instead opting to wear a gray t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. He had decided against wearing his Spiderman uniform to the compound because- well- technically, he wasn’t supposed to be here right now.
Tony Stark had given him clear directions on how he should spend his day today.
Peter shifted slightly, letting out a small sigh as his brown eyes watched the clouds above him. They floated lazily along the sky, moving in a manner that seemed so unbothered and stress-free, as if they had absolutely no care or worry in the world.
A wave of envy washed over Peter, causing him to frown slightly. He often had moments like this, where he wondered what it would be like to not have the weight of the world on his shoulders, or the worry of every single ‘what if’ scenario that seemed to constantly hang over his head.
With his line of work, constantly being on your toes was a given- an expectation really. If you weren’t constantly on guard, how else could you be prepared for the worst? Granted, it seemed like the worst of the worst had passed now that Thanos was gone and the world was back to normal. Well–almost normal.
After the blip, it seemed like a thousand new problems had burst out of the ground overnight. Protests, angry mobs, new elitist groups, people being forced out of their homes to make room for the people coming back. The world was a mess right now, almost a bigger mess than how Thanos had tried to leave it eight years ago. Conditions like these seemed to only fuel the flames of Peter's worries.
Of course, he knew that worrying was a small price to pay, especially if it meant he was able to keep the ones he loved safe. However, that didn’t stop him from wanting a break every now and again.
Perhaps it was his own fault though, because even with the opportunity to rest and relax, he still chose to come here. Maybe it was his own curiosity or his unconscious urge to help everyone, or maybe it was the fact that, even though he wanted to relax, the restlessness he felt from doing nothing took over every fiber in his body and the guilt that washed over him afterwards prevented him from doing so.
Whatever the case, here he was.
Peter laid his right hand along his diaphragm, while his left hand fiddled with the web shooter on his wrist. His bottom lip was trapped between his white teeth as he pondered the idea of going inside. He knew that Mr. Stark would be angry with him, but not knowing why he didn’t want him here in the first place was driving Peter up the wall.
After everything they had been through together, why was Stark shutting him out now? What could possibly be worse than fighting a giant, genocidal purple alien in space? Or disappearing in a cloud of dust for five years? Or even watching his mentor almost die right in front of him?
Peter really couldn’t think of anything worse than that.
The conversation he had had with Mr. Stark this morning suddenly began replaying in his head.
He was getting ready to come over to the Avengers compound anyway, packing a bag of overnight clothes and textbooks, excited to be able to continue his Avenger training after a long week of college lectures, tedious amounts of homework, and boring nightly patrols around Queens.
A video call from Mr. Stark is not what he had expected as he was getting ready. But Peter was happy to answer regardless.
“Hey Mr. Stark! I was just about to swing over to the compound. I’ve been thinking about some cool modifications we could add to my sui-” Peter’s excited ramble was cut off by the sound of Tony clearing his throat, clearly annoyed by the sudden rant first thing. But what else could he expect from Parker.
“Change of plans kid,” Tony started, his eyes looking off screen for a moment before settling back on Peter.
“No need to come to base. Us OGs have some work to do up here and won’t be able to train you baby Avengers today.” Stark stated, causing Peter to pause.
He took a moment to study the older man on the screen.
He looked exhausted, with dull pupils and dark bags around his eyes. His hair wasn’t as styled and neatly combed as it usually was. Instead it was a disheveled mess, as if he had been running his fingers through the dark strands every few seconds. The facial hair that cupped his mouth also appeared unkempt, and the stubble that was usually shaved away made an almost unnatural appearance on his face.
To say that Tony Stark looked absolutely exhausted would be the understatement of the year.
And it worried Peter.
“What kinda work? Maybe I can hel-”
“Just some boring, no fun debriefings and lots of paperwork. Captain Icepop has decided to play principal.” Said Tony with a chuckle, trying to hide the uneasiness that pooled in his eyes.
Peter could see right through him though. Something wasn’t right. He could sense it.
“Is everything okay Mr. Stark?” Peter asked cautiously, narrowing his eyes at his mentor in concern.
He watched as Tony shifted in his seat, as if he was physically trying to avoid the question. It was obvious from the background that he was sitting in his lab. Peter could see dummy, one of Tony’s hilariously clumsy robots, fiddling with some sort of scrap metal off to the right.
“Yeah kid, everything is fine. I’ll call you when our schedule frees up, though if I were you I wouldn’t expect to come up here at all this weekend.” Stark said matter of factly.
The statement confused Peter. Would he really be in meetings all weekend? Something didn’t feel right, like Mr. Stark wasn’t telling him something.
“But Mr. Star-”
“No buts Twinkle Toes. Think of this as a free ‘mini vaca’,” Tony said, using his fingers to make invisible quotation marks.
Peter only caught a glimpse of the red and gold prosthetic that encased his right side before his arms fell down out of view of the camera once more.
“-just don’t get use to it. I’ll have you back up here next weekend, so be prepared to work your ass off. Say hi to your aunt for me.” And just like that, the call ended.
Leaving Peter with more questions and more worries than he thought he would have to deal with today.
The loud ‘hum’ of a Quinjet ripped Peter from his thoughts, causing him to sit up in surprise. The sudden interruption had startled him a bit, his heart racing as his brain began to register what had happened. Peter’s right hand came up to rest itself above the beating organ underneath his peck, and he mentally urged for it to slow down and forced himself to take a deep breath. His left hand gripped the edge of the building, steading himself from falling in his unexpected adjustment.
Peter watched from his place on the roof as the silver jet began its slow and mechanical descent onto the landing pad just below. A warm breeze admitted from the plane as it maneuvered, hitting Peter’s face with an unpleasant smell of metal and gasoline. It was a direct contrast to the soothing scent of fresh air he had been enjoying minutes prior. The vehicle softly hummed and whirled, the sound cutting through the once silent and calm air. It landed onto the gray concrete with a contrasting ‘thud’. The metal creaked due to the effects of gravity weighing down to earth, and as quickly as it touched the ground, the engine stopped.
The air was quiet again.
The back hatch of the Quinjet opened, and out stepped a woman that Peter recognized but could hardly say he knew.
Yelena Belova.
The little sister of the famous Natasha Romanoff.
He had only met her a handful of times, each interaction short and brief. Their paths rarely had any cause to cross and if he was honest with himself, Peter felt a bit intimidated by the woman.
She had an energy about her, one that radiated ‘Don’t fuck with me or I’ll kill you’. And Peter did not want to fuck with her.
She was one of the “newest” members of the Avengers, officially joining about a year after Thanos had been defeated and Stark had snapped everyone that had been lost back into existence. A feat that felt unobtainable at the time.
Peter watched as the blonde woman walked away from the ship, and towards the entrance of the compound. Her pace was quick and rushed, her feet barely touching the ground as she marched forward. From his place on the roof, Peter couldn’t make out the expression on her face, but with the speed she was moving, he wouldn’t have had the time to study it even if he could. She appeared to be in a hurry and Peter squinted in curiosity as he watched her form disappear behind the compound doors.
Guess he was going inside after all.