I write this purely for my own pleasure and not for compensation.
PROLOGUE: PART I
or
So weird how you run into people at the airport
2016
Peter has no idea what's going on, but he is having a blast.
First, Tony Stark—Iron Man—was in his living room talking about a scholarship or whatever. Then he said he knew about Spider-Man. For a second, Peter thought it was all over—what, was Spider-Man muscling in on Iron Man's turf or something? Now Iron Man's here to kick my ass?—but it turned out Mr. Stark was asking for his help fighting Captain America? (?)
Then, Peter was on a plane for the first time ever with this guy named Happy—who never answered his question, by the way; why do they call him Happy?—and then he was in Berlin, unpacking his stuff in the fanciest hotel room he'd ever been in. It had three rooms! A killer view of the city! Tiny bottles of vodka in the fridge (which Happy confiscated immediately)!
And then! Just as he was about to suit up, he found out Mr. Stark made him a new suit and it was in a cool silver case that Peter missed (because he actually had four rooms?! (?)). It's skin-tight and has fancy new web-shooters and tiny augmented reality goggles and he looks so friggin' cool in it!
"…copy that?"
Peter starts (and accidentally looses a web out of the open car window going 80 mph—he hasn't totally figured out the new web shooters yet).
"Wuh—?"
Mr. Stark blows static over the line with a sigh. "You're making me regret this, Spider-boy."
"Spider-Man," Peter corrects reflexively. "Seriously, don't worry about me, Mr. Stark. This isn't my first fight."
Peter had been Spider-Man every single night for the past five months. And yeah, for the most part, he did the vigilante equivalent of eating his vegetables: catching purse-snatchers and rescuing cats out of trees. But he'd done some pretty cool stuff too, like busting up a dog-fighting ring and preventing an attempted kidnapping. Hell, just last week, Peter fought and subdued a dozen armed drug runners in an empty warehouse in Jamaica. So he's not incapable or anything. At least, not like Mr. Stark seems to think he is.
"This is not the same thing as foiling some hapless carjacker in Flushing. This is Captain America. Have you ever gone mano a mano with a super-soldier?"
"No, but—"
"If you don't take him seriously, you're gonna have a hard time explaining to Aunt May why you're coming home in a wheelchair. That shield is vibranium—you get hit with it, you will break some bones. Get it away from him whenever you can—and go for the legs, he's oddly top heavy—"
This was quickly becoming condescending. "Mr. Stark, I'm taking this seriously, I promise. I won't let you down."
The thing is, Peter can't let Mr. Stark down. This is only everything he'd ever dreamed of since he became Spider-Man. Who is he kidding—it's everything he'd ever dreamed of since he watched Tony Stark announce on TV that he was Iron Man. What seven-year-old nerd didn't dream that one day Iron Man would come to their house and ask for help fighting bad guys?
And maybe… maybe if Peter performs well here… well, then maybe Mr. Stark will ask him to join the Avengers, for real.
Whoa, I'm getting way ahead of myself here. Me, an Avenger? It's crazy. Totally impossible, a kid can't join the Avengers...
…right?
On the very, very off chance Iron Man is crazy enough to recruit a teenager to the Avengers, Peter has got to impress Mr. Stark today. So no tripping over his own feet, no getting hurt, and no dumb screw-ups because who knows what Mr. Stark will be looking at.
Maybe this conversation is a test. Ah shit, should have been paying attention! What would a real Avenger do right now? Assess the situation! Right, that sounds pretty Avenger-y.
"Um, Mr. Stark? Why are we fighting Cap again? Has he really gone crazy?"
There is a pause. For a second, Peter's sure he's immediately screwed his Avenging ambitions (he also accidentally shoots another web out the window—this time, it makes spectacular contact with a startled sheep).
When Mr. Stark speaks again, he sounds weary. "It's a very long story and we don't have time to go through it all. All you need to know is that Cap… he always thinks what he's doing is right, even when it's obviously wrong. That's makes him so dangerous. Do you get what I'm saying?"
Not really. Peter doesn't say this, but his silence says it for him.
"I know Cap very well. Better than I'd like, frankly. I know he's going to tell you you don't understand what's going on—"
"—I mean, he'd be right—"
Mr. Stark presses on in a louder voice, "—but the fact is, he's the one who doesn't understand the trouble he's in right now. It's like he puts blinders on when he gets obsessed with doing the quote-unquote 'right thing.' He won't see reason, he won't ever give up. Cap has to be made to surrender."
Made to surrender. Peter's skin prickles. "So he is crazy."
"…you know what, sure. He's gone absolutely bananas ape-shit and we gotta bring him in. Copy that, Spiderling?"
As he slips his new Spider-Man mask over his face, Peter doesn't bother correcting him this time, grinning instead. "Like I said, Mr. Stark—" He shoots Happy a thumbs up through the rearview mirror. The driver just rolls his eyes.
"—I won't let you down."
Getting Captain America's shield away from him ends up being easier than Peter anticipated. All Spider-Man had to do was web up his hands and web up his shield.
He probably could have been a little cooler greeting the Avengers. His voice cracked a couple of times, and he did stutter when Captain America (CAPTAIN AMERICA) made eye contact with him. But all in all, it wasn't so bad, even if he chattered so much that Mr. Stark had to tell him to be quiet.
Captain America nods at Mr. Stark. "You've been busy."
"And you've been a complete idiot," snaps Mr. Stark. "Dragging in Clint, 'rescuing' Wanda and Bibi from a place they didn't even want to leave—a safe place!"
Peter has no idea who Clint, Wanda, and Bibi are. Other Avengers? Who knew their real names? Captain America raises an eyebrow incredulously. "You sure they didn't want to leave?"
Mr. Stark's face darkens. "You do not get to decide what Bibi does. She's a kid—"
"—who's not allowed leave her own home? Sounds more like a prisoner to me."
Iron Man's expression contorts in fury. Lowly, he utters, "You made this fight very personal when it didn't have to be."
Captain America seems almost sympathetic. "Tony, it was always personal. You know that."
"What I know is you're goddamn lucky I don't punch you in the—"
"Tony," warns Black Widow sharply. At the sound of her voice, Mr. Stark remembers himself. He takes a long breath and closes his eyes. When they open again, they're pleading.
"I'm only trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart."
Captain America becomes solemn. "You did that when you signed."
He doesn't seem crazy like Mr. Stark said. He just seems sad. And resigned. And a little distracted—
Suddenly, Captain America raises his bound hands over his head. Out of nowhere, an arrow whistles through and slashes the webbing securing his hands (aw man, gotta make my webbing harder to cut through!). Then he looks directly at Spider-Man.
"Alright, Lang."
It takes Peter a moment too long to notice the tiny man climbing up the shield on his arm.
"Hey guys, there's something—"
A foot catches him under his jaw, knocking him flat on his back.
What the—
The shield is out of his hands and in the hands of a man in a red suit with a weird metal mask. Tiny guy is normal now, okay. Can't say I saw that coming.
"I believe this belongs to you, Captain America," the tiny-normal man hands the shield back to Captain America.
Iron Man exhales angrily. "Oh great. Alright, there's three in the parking deck—two of 'em are Maximoff and Bibi. I'm gonna grab 'em." He takes flight. "Rhodey, you wanna take Cap?"
War Machine (What's a Rhodey?) responds, "Got two in the terminal—Wilson and Barnes."
The man in the black cat suit shoots off at once. "Barnes is mine!"
Spider-Man puts his fingers up to his earpiece (total Bond move). "Hey, Mr. Stark, what should I do?"
"What we discussed: keep your distance, web 'em up!"
Geez, I missed that entire discussion, didn't I? Strike one for Avenger Spider-Man.
"Okay, copy that!"
If this was any other fight, Bibi might actually be enjoying herself. All she feels is very sick.
The parking deck where they sit in wait is as close as Clint is willing to get. He repeats his old line about seeing better from a distance, but Bibi knows that's only half of it. Steve tasked him with protecting the youngest of his team. Clint doesn't want Wanda or Bibi in unnecessary danger.
So they wait. Watching as Iron Man and War Machine touch down in front of Steve, their helmets folding into their suits to talk him down face to face. As Black Panther jumps in and Black Widow appears behind him.
Bibi reaches up to fiddle with her pendant. She remembers too late that it's not there. Her fingers rest on her empty neck as she takes a shaky breath. Wanda looks over at her, brow furrowed in worry. She slips her hand into Bibi's and squeezes once.
"You'll be alright," Wanda reassures her in Sokovian. "This is what you trained for."
Bibi swallows thickly and nods at the tense gathering of Avengers below them.
"This is not what I trained for," she replies in English.
Clint interjects, his voice sharp, "None of that. If you go into a fight thinking you can't win, you won't."
Even after all his time in retirement, even in these horrible circumstances, Clint's resolve remains unshakeable. Bibi thinks his calm is the only thing keeping her breakfast down.
It's not winning I'm worried about, though. Bibi keeps the thought to herself. She certainly isn't the only one thinking it.
"The hell is that?" Clint mutters when a red and blue figure comes swinging into the fight on one line and snatching Steve's shield with another. But he clamps his hand down on Bibi's shoulder when she tries to shoot to her feet, alarmed by the new unknown actor. "Not yet. We're still waiting on Wilson."
Sam and Bucky scan the premises from a more central vantage of the airport terminal. Bibi sees the wisdom in their scattered positions and the composition of their sub-squads. Sam and Bucky have the most close-combat training on their team (other than Steve), so their position allows them to come to Steve's aid the fastest. Clint is a long-range master, so his position gives their side the element of surprise. It also lets him keep the youngest and most wanted—Wanda and Bibi, two more mid to long-range fighters—under his watchful eye.
And then there's Scott Lang. Who can… become small? Bibi struggles to see his value. Anyway, he's in Steve's pocket or something.
Sam's voice crackles through the radio. "We found it. Their Quinjet's in Hangar 5, north runway."
Steve lifts his bound hands over his head. On cue, Clint fires off an arrow to release him. Without waiting to see if his arrow connects—because it always does—Clint takes off. Wanda and Bibi follow without hesitation.
They hit the tarmac at full tilt, sprinting down a gantlet of light aircraft and luggage trailers. Bibi hears the wsh of Iron Man's missiles a second before Wanda does and flings out her arm to yank her away from the explosions. Clint hauls them both under his arms to shield their heads from falling debris.
Iron Man sputters to a halt above them, arm repulsor outstretched and glowing.
"Young lady, you're out way past curfew."
Bibi unmasks her mouth. It takes all of her composure not to tremble at the sight of Iron Man aiming his armed gauntlet at her.
"You're out of line, Tony."
He scoffs. "Let me get this straight: I'm out of line, but the Child Catcher here is copacetic?" ("Hey man," Clint objects. He is ignored.)
"I'm not a child," says Bibi.
"By every semantic, social, and legal definition—yeah, you're a child."
"No, I'm a prisoner!" she snaps back. Wanda clutches her hand to tether her fury. "You locked me up, you locked us away—"
Tony laughs humorlessly. "Steve's in your head. The facility's hardly a prison, Bee. You can go outside whenever you want." He shakes his head, tutting. "And it wasn't too long ago we took that joyride upstate. What was that quote from Lear again? 'How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child'?"
Bibi raises her arm. The flaming plane wing beside her begins to rise in the air as if pulled by invisible strings. Iron Man's repulsor whines.
"You want a 'thank you'?"
She flings it at him. Tony fires a blast. A plume of black smoke and metal shrapnel explodes harmlessly around him.
He turns back to her. "Okay, good effort, but maybe you should leave the rest to the grown-ups."
Bibi shrugs. "If you say so."
A car flies off the top of the parking structure behind him. Iron Man dodges, but it clips his shoulder, knocking him down a peg. Wanda pulls another, and another, until there is a cascade of cars plummeting to the ground. He struggles to escape them, blasting them away at first before he attempts to ascend above the fray.
Wanda shifts her hands. One car makes contact and it bashes him down to the tarmac. Bibi's heart drops at the metal sound of his helmeted head smacking against the pavement. The rest of the cars crash around him, blocking him from their sight.
Bibi stares at the spot she watched Tony disappear. It's only when Wanda tugs her hand and tells her, "We have to go," that she can tear herself away.
If you liked this, please review. The prologue has 3-4 parts.
Warning: I am a terrible updater and have only a vague idea where I'm going with this.
