Whumptober prompts used: Kidnapped, Bruises, torture, Self-sacrifice
A/N: Torture, Major character death
He had his backpack on, with the New York streets bustling the day it could have fooled him. Peter Parker had a pretty good day with acing his tests and had all his homework figured out and finished in record time. He walked to a semi safe alley and made the transition of turning into Spider-Man. When Karen greeted him, and he had made his way up to the skyscrapers he had felt like he stepped into an almost closest form of home.
He had liked his apartment that Aunt May always made feel cozy, but there had something breathtaking when he used the webs he created that made him shot up in the air. The friction of the wind hitting him and the rush of catching himself airborne and the actual motion of swinging gave his one of the best feelings he'd ever crossed. He didn't know why he had liked habit of free diving; but the views were perfect. Not only that, but when he became Spider-Man and helped other, it had helped him cope. It had made him feel like he was finding a reason why everything from before had happened.
He always wanted to help. And when his powers came, he had seen his potential grow. It only solidified when tragedy struck him. A part of guilt and another that stemmed from his childhood made him seek being Spider-Man. It had been just a short of a full year, but Peter had seen how much more life pushed and pulled. With petty crimes, to the more recent big cases like when he fought Captain America's side and Vulture. He personally saw how much more he wanted to help the little folks.
One day, yeah Peter would like to be an Avenger, but for now, he wanted to stay true to his roots.
The free hours that passed by had almost lulled Peter into thinking that nothing would happen. That maybe for once, he would have time to go back home and finally find time to sleep before Aunt May, would worry again. He didn't want to make her talk again with Mr. Stark. They would bounce back and forth with compromises, and Peter would find himself grounded to the floor. He had been happy when she stopped internally freaking out when she caught from in the suit but, they had both known their lives would never go back to before.
He was more than just a teenager, he had the powers and means to make a difference in the world, and more importantly in the city they lived in. She understood his passion and compassion he held dear; just as much his will to protect her from his double life. Neither Mr. Stark or herself would be enough to fully take away Spider-Man from him, because his name was already out there. For the world and specifically, for New York to cry and plead for his assistance more often as they grew used to his presence.
That, and because they all knew from experience of how far he would go to keep doing his job.
It had been a short couple of weeks that morphed into months of Aunt May knowing everything again, and being the best, strongest person he knew when she sat him down and allowed him to continue. The rules had been made, a sort of routine had been perfected over the drills that Peter, Aunt May, Mr. Stark and Happy had to relearn to fix their lives again into a sync that made sense. Each had a part that they'd all know would have been accomplished in case of emergencies.
But that hadn't stopped for crime to get out of hand. Or places and meetings that delayed reactions as emotions were hurled at them. Life was kind of chaotic that way.
It had been why Peter couldn't fault them, but himself when his nightmares came true. When he found their apartment broken. Chairs moved, a couch upside down and plates broken. His home felt colder and far more alien when he called out for his Aunt May. Time slowed down. His heart froze for a second, and all air had been flushed out of his body. He...Peter couldn't believe it.
They had taken her.
They had Aunt May. And it had been his fault. Peter didn't know where to start or when the room had started to spin. His suit had been pulled out again from his backpack, and from the back of his head he had known that he should've called Mr. Stark, but he couldn't breathe—couldn't fully think when Peter jumped out of his apartment window without a second glance back.
When the chilly night blew over him, it hadn't helped. Hadn't made him feel any better. Instead, it felt as if the world was chipping away his soul, with every inch and mile he passed he could sense the dread from his heart awaken his senses. He almost couldn't bear being out in the city. Because there would be flashes of each time he felt numb. Four bodies later, Peter somehow couldn't find it in himself to want to live another second of not knowing where Aunt May was (or if he would be able to save her in time). She needed to be fine.
They needed to survive this, because if they couldn't Peter wouldn't know what his future would look like. He didn't want to see it; have to live a life where she was gone. It had been hard.
Too hard when he had lost his parents and his uncle.
Spider-Man had barely helped him recover. Had pulled enough pieces for him to come back and see what else he could do in the world. His Aunt May, Ned had been there for him and now Mr. Stark and Happy were a part of his life that kept him alive too. What allowed him to keep marching each day had been Spider-Man helping and healing another side of himself. But he knew he couldn't live without his Aunt May. She had been his true rock, and he had desperately tried to keep from harm away from her. Yet, he had failed.
Somewhere in that day, Peter had made a mistake, if not earlier when she had been taken. He didn't know where to look, but the answers would eventually come forwards. But for now, all he could do was move and move. Until the seconds couldn't bang into his chest, when Aunt May, would be in his arms safe and sound.
Mr. Stark's voice had woken a part him; he hadn't been sure when Karen had called him, but he had been grateful. For a shred minute he had been happy to have an adult to guide him. It didn't last when he was benched.
"You don't understand Mr. Stark! I have to find her. I have to make sure—I can't lose her too!"
No. Not after he couldn't stop Uncle Ben from dying. He had his powers back then too. Peter couldn't allow for himself to rest and leave it to Mr. Stark to rescue his last remaining family. He wouldn't be able to live like that.
"Pete, you know you're not any condition to—" He was cut off by Peter fuming.
Normally, Peter wouldn't lose his temper. But with his aunt missing, and his flashbacks of losing Ben harping into his heart, Peter couldn't stop himself from cutting off his mentor.
"I'm not hurt! I can help you look for her."
The screen where Mr. Stark was replaced with the noise of the Iron Man suit close to his person. The roof felt colder when his face was relieved to him. Peter didn't take off his own mask, but he wanted to. Wanted to make Mr. Stark see how much he wanted to go out and find her.
"I know you aren't physically hurt kid. But we don't know why she was taken. I made a promise to myself and your aunt that I would protect you to the best of my abilities." He walked closer to place a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not saying you wouldn't be able to handle this. God knows you already have enough experience of helping other people in these kinds of situations. But right now, I need you to go back to the compound and wait there while being safe. We can't—I can't..."
Peter didn't like the haunted look from Mr. Stark's face when he looked down at him.
He continued with a firm tone. "Just let me and Rhody find her. I promise you, I'll save her."
When his figure left Peter watched the city's lights. A lone siren went off in the distance but Peter couldn't help but curl his hands into fists. He made it to two blocks to where Happy was supposed to pick him up when he heard his phone chime.
The phone call made his blood churn, and his tears to pile up until they burst. Without even looking back he went straight to the place that he was forced go to. Happy could lecture at him later, Mr. Stark could be disappointed at him for disobeying him again and his Aunt May, could ground him until forever, but he wouldn't regret it, because he would do anything to protect her (and keep her alive).
He would make sure that it wouldn't end like Uncle Ben.
They kept their promises.
Peter didn't rat them out of their hiding spot, and they hadn't hurt Aunt May too much. Her clothes were rumpled from the fight she had when they took her. Few bruises were from where she had been bounded and her glasses were gone, it had given him a better view of her eyes that were frantic and red from her crying. She hadn't looked happy to see him there, with his suit on and his body shivering from both the cold and fear of seeing her hurt. He had been angry too, but when he saw one of men with a gun placed at the temple of her head Peter knew he wouldn't be fast enough to save her.
He would have to be smart and sneaky. Karen had helped him take out a couple of the men from outside. Had crawled and shimmed into the right position to wait for the men to trade places. Peter hated at how much time that separated him from his aunt's safety, of how much she was probably hurting from her capture.
When they started the next shift he quickly webbed two men and had been in the middle of webbing the third when a gun fired.
It hadn't been a regular bullet that pierced him. It stung. Burned and had smelled off. It had been laced with something else he couldn't identify. But that hadn't mattered because with his sense hyping up and making him nauseated he hated the pure wail that cut out his mouth. It only scared his Aunt May when she screamed too. She tried to move from her spot but all that touched her had been his own blood.
It only made it painful when he had been gagged. His strength that he had always admired barely worked. He could feel his body giving out when a stronger pair kicked his stomach and the exact area where he had been shot.
Peter's mask had still be protecting his face, but he knew it would be eventually pulled off. It had been made clear that one of those people that arranged this had known who he was. They had also made the right bullets to slow him down too with the way he couldn't keep fighting back. His aunt's screaming had been cut off and somewhere inside his head he knew why. He had blacked out from the pain.
He eventually got a name and story. Somewhere in that fuzzy moment of introductions Peter had learned how in his early days he caused a chain reaction of misery. His first attempt of rescue had somehow hurt a family. The father had been mad of the arrest and soon death of their child, the mother had taken her life and Spider-Man had become a beacon for the father to get revenge of hurting his family. At the time, Peter could only focus on contacting on Mr. Stark and praying that his aunt was okay then to properly be hurt by the man's explanation.
He would eventually be able feel bad of course, he was Peter Parker; the boy that always felt empathy for others. So much, that he knew his heart would be a problem as he tried to continue on being Spider-Man. But right now, he wanted to be selfish and worry over his aunt.
The torture had rudely started right off after he woke up, it had been mixed in during the introduction and monologue from the father that lost everything. His suit had few rips and had been dirtied from his fighting. The blood from side had crusted, and his own vision was blurred. In the span of what probably had been minutes or hours Peter felt every stab, smack and punch that had been aimed at him. Spider-Man had his share of being a punching bag, but this time it almost hurt a bit more since the bullet had affected his healing. It made him remember the times before he had gotten the bit. With the damp room smelling of dirt and blood Peter felt his heart hurt when he heard his aunt screaming getting louder.
The closer she got the more Peter couldn't handle it. When she appeared in the same room she couldn't hide her emotions, and neither could Peter.
In that instance his whole body roared. "You promised you wouldn't hurt her!"
Why couldn't they had let her go when he had been captured? She hadn't been the person that damned the man or his family. Why did she have to suffer for Peter's sins too?
The man's face split to an awful grin. "Hurts doesn't it?" He still had a knife with him, he walked closer and let the edge of it touch Peter's exposed neck. "I'd figured that torturing you would only do so much. So I'd thought why not make it really drive the point of what you did to me."
She called out his name when they strapped her to the furthest wall from him. He saw thin lines from both her arms, the blood from each cut couldn't escape his eyes. There had been darker bruises from her wrists and ankles. With her in the same room Peter couldn't help but feel smaller and broken when the man punched his face. But nothing compared when he watched another person bring out a gun and aimed it at one of his aunt's shoulders. The blaring sound hitched into his memory.
Her eyes widen, blood splattered and Peter couldn't believe how much strength she had for mostly swallowing her pain. Her grunts however, had made Peter to scream louder and louder. He didn't know what to do that he had felt like he had been delirious when a pulse of air boom and boom until he recognized the pattern. Air repulsors of two suits he knew were coming. Two certain people were flying closer and as shots were runs running around from all sides of them.
The helper by then left to help the other people leaving Peter and his aunt with the maniac. It had brimmed his adrenaline again. Had made Peter almost cry in relief when his gut painful hitched his breath as he noticed his captor didn't change tactics or leave the room. He instead took a quick gulped of air, and then the next second aimed his gun to Aunt May. Peter didn't hesitate there.
He summoned any remaining strength he had left and pulled and thrashed. The chains that had held him finally gave out, and he jumped first without thinking about the two voices saying his name at the time. He felt it collide to his chest, the blood oozed out from his lips and, his vision started to haze again. But he had jumped at the right moment for Mr. Stark's figure to capture the man that started it all.
Peter's own body went straight to his aunt. The rope hadn't been that hard to rip away with a knife close to the ground near her. Two, three swipes the rope fell down and his legs gave out. She dropped to the floor to grab him by her good arm.
He couldn't help but smile despite the pain that radiated off his body. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move too much without wincing. But he had heard Mr. Stark coming closer as his aunt frantically examined him. He whispered her name. Had tried to clasp her.
But he couldn't.
The last thing he felt had been Aunt May's figure cradling him and the sound of Mr. Stark's crying until he closed eyes as the darkness enveloped him.