New fanfic that includes Peter Parker and Natasha Romanoff (Mother/Son). It's an AU.


Hi.

My name's Peter Parker. Yes, an old sounding name for this 21st century, especially for a 15-year-old. But, it could be worse.

At this moment, I just so happen to be running. Not in a marathon, no. Though, I wish it was. But this was a serious panic kind of running and if I stopped I was dead. Like dead, dead. I'm not talking about going home to your parents after a bad grade or a terrible night on the town. But like for reals, dead.

I can feel my heart pumping acid and my wheezing breaths coming out of my burning lungs. I was desperate for someplace to hide for a while. If it weren't for the pounding footsteps behind me, I'd probably have given in to my body's wish of stopping or at least slowing down.

That wasn't an option. Other kids were waiting for me atop this building and I promised to arrive.

I peeked behind me. The men hadn't turned the last corner so I took the opportunity to turn again into an alley way and begin climbing the fire-escape up. I forced myself up with my arms, giving my legs a slight break. I could hear the rickety metal scrape beneath my tennis shoes as my clumsy steps began to worsen from exhaustion.

I could hear the men's calls now. I stopped. I didn't want them to notice me climbing the escape. I tucked myself into the corner of the metal bars beside the brick building and behind the ladder, hoping it would give me better cover.

As the guys rounded the corner, I held the breath that I didn't have, making my lungs screech for a heavy dose of oxygen. They looked around curiously. It didn't help that I was in a black alley way, wearing white. I attempted to cover the shirt as much as possible with my arms, hoping to darken the color in any way possible or at least make it seem like it wasn't a human standing there.

I closed my eyes, simply listening as the men grumbled and cursed. They pushed each other like rag dolls when they thought I wasn't there. Eventually, they decided to run further up the street.

I stood there for a bit longer until all their footsteps were gone and then for another minute after that until their voices also disappeared. When I thought I was, finally, out of ear shot, I started to ascend the fire-escape again, quietly.

During the climb, I thought back to how I even ended up here. I promise, it wasn't my fault. All I remember was walking to practice and at a street corner I got knocked out…


My name is Natasha Romanoff. Current police officer at the NYPD, Queen's Division. Former agent of S.H.E.I.L.D and distressed mother of one.

My current positioning is at the corner of 183rd and Union and I can't see my son anywhere, but I know he's around. Call it mother's intuition.

If you must know, recent events have taken him away and it's my fault. My past caught up with me in ways I've never seen and my son's paying the price. I need to get to him before his body is found in some river or lake, cold and forgotten.

My boots pound on the blackened, cold pavement. Street lamps, barely lit, light the ground water that poured in a storm a few days ago. The day after my son was grabbed. In those tourist pictures of New York, sometimes people consider this to be pretty or mysterious. To me this darkened atmosphere with leaky pipe drains being the only music to be herd simply reminded me of death and sadness. I try not to splash much.

I regretted a lot over these past few days. The moments I didn't smile or laugh with him. The moments when I yelled and screamed over what seemed to be such simple things. But most of all, the moments that haunt me the most are the ones where I never showed anything.

I've never been big on the whole emotion kind of thing, much due to my upbringing in S.H.E.I.L.D spy division. There were times where I never showed or felt anything for days at a time and I never explained to my son why. I'll admit I'm not going to win a "Good Mother" award. I'd probably barely reach, "Hey Your Kid's Not Screwed Up" award because after this he may just be scarred for life.

I tried so hard to hide my deadly past from him so that he'd grow up thinking the world was a good place and be willing to live in it. I didn't do a good job.

Even so, I believe in my kid. He's smart. I've taught him much, at least I hope so. He's skilled and fit. At the very least he can probably run.

I sprinted down the city street another block before pressing myself flush against the brick wall in an alleyway. My breath is coming out in uneven spurts, but not because of the exercise. I think… I think I'm scared. A feeling I haven't experienced since my first mission with S.H.E.I.L.D when I was eighteen. It's a lot worse that I remembered.

I can hear voices coming from the other side of an apartment building. All men, probably about half a dozen of them. I couldn't range the size though, but I'm guessing each of them are on the bigger side since it's their job to protect their boss.

Using one hand to keep my hair from going out too far, I peek my head around the corner as I watch the men run past. They seem confused, like they aren't sure where they are. For a moment, I thought it was an average gang, until I saw him.

A man of six feet with buzzed, dirty blond hair. He's the one I saw on the video, the one that was on the street corner when my son was walking to gymnastic practice. He's the one who knocked him out…


Note that the POV will change throughout the story. This is simply the prologue to gauge what people kind of want to see or if they want to see anymore at all. It's fine if you don't. Remember this is an AU.

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