So this little plot bunny attacked me and I got stuck with this prologue with no continuance whatsoever.
Anyway, I'm officially giving permission to anyone who might be interested to adopt this story and continue it. Just let me know; I'd love to read it.
The first time he sees asset D-11 he is with the Black Widow, which is a mind-blower by itself. He guesses he needs to start getting used to it though, since Natasha said Fury assigned them together until he can find his feet on his own in SHIELD. He knows that just means he's given to a babysitter, but honestly, he gets it. He's still a newbie. And come on, the Black Widow. She's so badass it should be recorded.
Besides, he would never pass a chance to work with an Avenger. Mr. Stark is awesome, but it's time for the Spider Man to team up with the other Avengers too.
He shifts in his vest uncomfortably for the fourth time. It's itchy and it makes his red-and-blue suit hot enough to boil him. Natasha looks at him from the other side of the helicopter, hands splayed loosely over her own vest, smirking slightly.
"Don't worry, we're almost back in the base," she yells over the wind.
He nods gratefully. "I think I'm going to steal one of SHIELD's ACs!"
She looks at him with mild amusement and tells him to hold on to his straps. Their land isn't a graceful one, but it's not that bad and Natasha says it's a good training for messier missions in the future. He hops out of the helicopter and extricate himself from the vest as soon as he can, finally filling his lungs with the cool outdoor air.
The Black Widow taps his shoulder once. "You did well today."
He allows himself to beam under his mask. "Yeah, well, I had a good mentor."
She smirks at him. The swallowing voice of an approaching aircraft fills the terminal again and they both turn to watch another helicopter crash inside, landing even less gracefully than they did. This one is bigger and heavier and it looks so ruined it's a miracle it hasn't crashed yet, its sides burned and some of the metal covering it peeling off like leaves. Peter stares as five men hurry down to the ground, only one of them familiar.
"Take him down, hurry!" Nick Fury instructs the two soldiers still on the helicopter, struggling to lower a stretcher to the floor.
"Director," Natasha calls. He looks at her as if he didn't notice her. His coat is wet and burnt on the edges.
"Romanoff," he replies and nods shortly then turns back to the two carrying the stretcher. "Take him to the paramedics. And I repeat - don't let water touch him. Tell them to take care of him without washing the wounds with water of any kind."
Peter looks at the stretcher as the pair run past him with it between them. There's a boy lying in there, about his age, maybe a year or two older. His hair is black and dirty with soil, his skin tanned deeply, his eyes closed and his hands cuffed to the stretcher's sides. His clothes are burnt and thoroughly soaked with blood.
"Who's that?" Natasha asks, looking after the stretcher with her eyebrows raised curiously.
"Our newest asset," Fury replies. "That is, if he survives."
"What happened to him?" Peter can't help but ask. Fury turns to stare at him with his black eye and he promptly shuts up before he can make it worse.
"Don't ask questions you don't have clarification for," the director says and turns around.
"Sorry, sir," he mumbles. Natasha is subtly rolling her eyes.
"I expect your report in an hour," Fury calls without stopping. The Black Widow smiles wryly and gestures him to follow.
"Come on. I'll show you how it's done."