Chapter One: Taken

Ever since he had woken up that morning, Peter had felt uneasy. It started out as a faint tingling at the nape of his neck, proceeding to become a dull throb by mid afternoon. He had searched relentlessly for the source of threat but found none. His Spidey sense had other ideas obviously, and continued to nag him throughout the day. His jumpy behaviour did not go unnoticed by his friends, teachers and even Flash.

"Hey Parker. Stay still, would ya? What, got a secret stash of weed in your backpack, loser?" He asked smugly, followed by a chorus of laughter from peers. Peter scowled at him, resisting the urge to slap off that stupid smirk from the jock's face.

"Leave him alone, Eugene." Gwen Stacy said firmly. Flash waved her off and continued to do whatever he was doing. The blonde haired girl turned to Peter. "Don't mind him."

"I don't," he replied. He liked Gwen. A lot. Not very much, but a lot. She suddenly laughed at something Betty had said and his heart skipped a beat. Okay, maybe a whole lot, Liz Allen style. Ned joked his priorities and chances were screwed. Peter thought so. Not. He and Gwen were currently on hiatus on their 'Not Romantic Relationship Not Platonic Friendship' thingy. They were somewhere in the middle of that, lots of grey areas in between. Like, they had gone on a total of five dates (none of which were addressed as such) not to get romantically attached, but simply to know more about each other.

Anyways, they were getting there, then maybe he could properly date her. But like Ned said, he had really screwed up priorities. Gwen's dad was the George Stacy, hero cop, NYPD captain. He doubted the man would like him very much. Moreover, her mom was Defense Attorney Anna Stacy, a tough as nails woman. Meeting Toomes had already traumatized him.

He didn't think he needed another overprotective dad breathing down his neck with the promise of murdering him. Unless Stacy was a psycho, he had no problem.

The 2:45 bell rang dismissively, signalling the end of the school day and taking Peter away from bad memories he'd rather forget. Peter stuffed his laptop in his brand new satchel and sighed. He had no patrol. He was grounded for like, forever, or until May and Tony changed their minds. Honestly, it was just a small stab wound, no big deal. He'd stitched it up pretty fine. Ned was sick. MJ in detention. No homework. This was the lamest day ever.

"Oh, um, hey Peter." It was Gwen. He realized they were the only ones left in the room.

"Hey."

"How've you been?"

"Fine. Better than fine. Aside from the fact I'm grounded indefinitely with a definite strict curfew, everything is dope."

"Oh." Gwen's face fell several miles. "I just thought we would, you know..." She lets the sentence trail off into silence.

"Are you asking me out, milady Gwendolyn?" Peter asked mischievously, hoping the answer was yes. As expected, Gwen turns a shade of red and she pursed her lips.

"You did say you have a curfew," she told him lightly.

"May wouldn't mind me brushing up my social skills. Besides, there's a new coffeeshop near MOMA which has totally mean latte. I'm going there anyways for an assignment. Do you wanna come? Black and white photos aren't boring, I promise."

Gwen let a ghost of a smile grace her lips. "So it's a date?" Peter held out his arm for her.

"You did ask." She laughed and took his arm.

Later, much much later, Peter would wonder if ignoring his screaming instincts or the feeling of eyes boring holes at the back of his skull while escorting Gwen home was really the best choice.

At the time, he had simply been in an euphoric state from the fact that he'd taken Gwen to a real date, they might've or might've not kissed for simply too long until an old guy walking his dog told them to get a room and he had had his motorbike for a grand total of three weeks without marking a dent on it or getting tickets for reckless driving. Or riding. Whatever. However, it was a known fact he had extremely bad luck. Of all places to be kidnapped, he didn't expect it to be in a fucking parking lot, or the fact that he was Peter Parker, not Spiderman when he was abducted.

Still didn't mean he didn't freak the fuck out when a dart almost hit him. His Spidey sense alerted him and he ducked, just before a dude came out of the car besides his Harley-Davidson. He gave the guy a solar plexus punch along with a knee to his stomach as he yelled in pain. Someone grabbed him from behind and he gave them a headbutt.

It looked like every car around him had a potential kidnapper. They surrounded him, armed with batons and guns. Peter quickly realized he was outnumbered, ten to one.

He put up his fists, readying for a fight. It seemed like these guys had been watching him for a while. And they also knew of his abilities. Because who the actual fuck sends two dozen people to kidnap a sixteen year old? His thoughts quickly turned to Gwen. Her sister lived here, and he'd dropped her off here. They knew about her too. His heart picked up a pace. Did they know about Spiderman too?

"Alright. Who's ready for their fresh dose of bodily harm?" He taunted them, ignoring his dangerously speeding heart and without preamble, they lunged at him. He took out the first five easily enough, dodging and parring their attracts before delivering nonfatal but powerful blows of his own. He might be enhanced, but murder wasn't a priority of his right now. He really had to thank Murdock and Rand for the self-defense lessons when he got out of this. If he got out this. There was a big if there, because these guys weren't easy on him.

Shots were fired, but he heard no sounds of bullets coming out of barrels. Silencers. Shit. And there were darts, not bullets. He dodged and parried another attack, a crack resonating as he broke someone's arm. Ouch. A punch caught his jaw unexpectedly and Peter staggered backwardly. Another punch was thrown but he caught the woman's hand and twisted her arm behind her back. She bent over and threw him off her and Peter landed expertly, using his leg to sweep her feet from under her.

She fell with an oomph and just as Peter was about to deliver a blow to her face to prevent her from getting up again, his heightened senses flashed a warning behind his eyes. It was too late. A dart had caught him in the nape of his neck.

The effect was instant. His vision blurred. His windpipe was getting blocked. He couldn't breathe. He clutched at his constricting throat, gasping for air. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, his mouth going dry. "It's a new thing I've been developing. Enough to fell an elephant. I'm glad I didn't try to add a few milligrams to the tranquilizer." A voice, female, spoke flatly. It sounded so close, yet so far, echoing in the distance.

Peter couldn't move. His legs had turned to mush.

He felt lips on his ear, hot breath trailing down his neck. "You are a special one. You have a higher calling than this, Stark. And I will help you uncover it, unleash the beast that you've hidden for so long."

"Take him to the van," she commanded and hands lifted him unceremoniously.

The last thing Peter heard was the sound of 'Brandy, You're a Fine Girl' playing over the radio as he slipped into unconsciousness.