Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters; plot is original, though.
Peter tried to hold on.
He really did, but when the only thing keeping him from tumbling a few thousand feet into the Hudson was a web, well, tough luck.
So he fell. He had failed to stop Adrian Toomes from robbing Mr. Stark's plane. No matter how hard he tried, he had no way of moving the folded wings. They were too strong, and the horrible condition under which Peter had to move them was too difficult to overcome. Maybe if he had his old, magnificent suit, he might have been able to use the parachute to save himself. Or maybe Karen had some other kind of web that would have been able to halt his descent. Or maybe some odd strength enhancer to be able to push the wings off.
Ah, the hypotheticals.
Peter knew after this, there was no way Mr. Stark would give the suit back. No way for Peter to become an Avenger.
And in thirty seconds, no way for him to live either.
The plummet continued, wind whistling. His chest constricted, breath hitched, thinking of a grieving Aunt May, hovering over his gravestone, right next to Uncle Ben's, crying as she put the flowers on the ground.
Twenty-five seconds.
The pained look on Ned's face when he walks into school on Monday to an empty desk, a shut locker, and an announcement from the two monotonous kids on the screen: Rest in peace, Peter Parker.
Twenty seconds.
The sad looks on the decathlon team members, Flash to Jason to, hell, even MJ, her normally stolid face twisted in anguish.
Fifteen seconds.
The desperate look on Liz's face, wondering what happened to Peter, going back and telling her goddamn father about him.
Ten seconds.
Peter wildly searched for a saving grace, anything tall enough that he could use as a supporter, anything at all. But, well, Coney Island only had a ferris wheel; too low to the ground to stop his fall.
Five seconds.
He heard him first. The whine of Toomes' wings. Peter guessed Toomes was done and just wanted to get his revenge. He probably got enough from the plane to keep him afloat for a long time.
One second.
Toomes grabbed Peter with his wings, stopping Peter's drop abruptly. He brought Peter up to his face, unlocked the face mask, and dropped it to the side. His face was exposed.
"You tried to ruin me, Parker," he sneered, obviously incensed. "You're lucky you aren't dead already; I wanted some time with you."
He threw his wing down, and Peter crashed into the sand of Coney Island, almost unconscious. His mask was ripped, goggles torn off during the fall. There was a gash across his chest from where the wing grabbed him, gushing blood.
He was lucky to still be alive, even after surviving the fall.
Toomes shoved his own mask back on, green eyes glaring menacingly at Peter. A box was attached to the back of his wings, with a purple glow escaping the small slits on the top. Obviously, he had gotten a lot of chitauri tech.
Maybe there was a bomb.
That sole fact was the only reason Peter still had a slight bit of hope for survival, with one drawback; he had no way to set them off.
Webs cannot set fire to something.
Peter groaned in pain and hopelessness, knowing it was over. He closed his eyes, grimacing, listening to the huge mechanical wings whirring, the unnatural roaring of Toomes, the laug… wait.
Roaring?
A long, silver spear embedded itself in the sand in front of Peter's assaulter.
Huh?
Toomes looked over Peter's shoulder, and immediately tried to take off, but then a blur flew over Peter, grabbed the spear, and threw it at the left wing of the suit. It went straight through the motor, sending Adrian off balance and sending him to the ground. He splashed into a shallow part of the ocean, only a bit far off of the land.
.A man now stood in his place; a hulking man with bigger muscles than Thor, with no shirt and a… vest?... made of… was that a lion's mane? He had yellow pants that somehow made him seem taller. He looked Russian. And excited.
"I have not had a bird hunt in a long time," the man grumbled excitedly, in a thick Russian accent, "but this will be the same as all those."
The Vulture, meanwhile, had been using his other wing to pull out the spear, tugging, and finally the spear gave out. He grabbed the spear himself and began speeding back, towards the Russian.
"Who are you, and what the hell are you doing here," Toomes yelled at the man. He threw the spear at the man, expecting a hit.
And then the man caught the spear. He dropped it in the sand.
"You should probably not try and kill someone before you get answers."
Toomes raised his wings threateningly.
"I am the last face you will ever see," the Russian said, "and I… well." And with that he lunged at Toomes, grabbing his shoulders and ripping the green-eyed mask off.
"I am the greatest hunter in existence."
With that, he lifted Toomes up and threw him to the ground, laughing as he jumped on top of the suit, ripping out wires and destroying the wings. Toomes screamed obscenities at the newcomer, desperation taking hold. He disconnected the wings from Toomes, and threw the wings into the water.
Leaning close, he flipped Toomes onto his back, and grabbed his head.
"And you… you were my most recent prey."
With a snap, Adrian Toomes was dead.
Peter dared not move, cursing himself that his suit was so brightly colored. He looked away from the hunter, who was still looming over Toomes, as if he thought the man was going to jump up at any moment to try and surprise him. Peter's arms, legs, hell, everywhere ached.
I am not going on patrol for the next week.
Peter heard footsteps in the sand, coming towards him, and he scrambled backwards, trying to find any shelter, any barrier, anything to put between him and this new opponent.
The man grabbed his shoulder and flipped him over. Peter grunted in pain as he got his first good look at the hunter.
He leaned close. "My name is Sergei Kravinoff, Spider," the Russian stated, "and I will be coming for you."
He stalked over to where his spear lay, picking it up and hefting it over his shoulder."
Peter slowly, painfully, shifted on to his side. "Why aren't you just, " he coughed.
"Why don't you kill me now?"
Kravinoff half-turned to look at him. "I like my prey as healthy as can be; I get more satisfaction out of the hunt."
With that, he turned and walked away.
A/N
What's up everybody! This is my first fic, and I am extremely excited to get it going! I saw Black Panther a few days ago, and I had to write something relating to it. I know, this is a Peter chapter, but this story will have two main characters; Peter, and a character from BP. I think you all can guess who.
If none of you recognized the name, this is Kraven the Hunter. He will likely be the main antagonist, but, well, I guess you never know.
Thank you to all those who read this, like it, follow it, etc. I really hope to be able to get a good following, encouraging me to keep writing this. I have a whole plot laid out, and I want to be able to put it into words.
Good night!