"Peter?" Tony whispered to himself, squinting his eyes against the darkness of the alley, "Peter, what are you doing?" He called louder. The kid was wearing nothing but a dark blue tank top and black cargo pants that were obviously too big for him. He had messy brown hair just like Peter, but his stature was small and crumpled up against the concrete building.

Tony stepped closer to who he thought was his son, the bruises on the child's shoulders and arms became visible along with the blood crawling down his cheek. He reached a hand out as the kid's head shot up, his blazing blue eyes almost glowing in the shadows. Tony gasped, "Whoa, you're not Peter," Tony said, the child stood up slowly and backed away from Tony, "Hold up! I'm not going to hurt you."

The kid was a carbon copy of Peter, other than the eyes and body size, they could be twins. Tony couldn't just leave this kid out in the freezing rain, the protective parent inside him just wouldn't allow it. The child was so small and looked almost starved to death, the way his soaking wet tank-top clung to his torso, Tony could almost count all his ribs. Tony thought of the man he saw run out of the alley, how he was holding a jacket and shoes. He must have beat up the boy and took them, Tony glared at the ground at the thought of it.

Tony reached into the jacket of his suit and pulled out a granola bar that Steve had given him this morning, he unwrapped the bar and held it out to the kid. The boy looked from Tony, to the bar and then back to Tony, as if contemplating if it was a trap of some sort. Tony stepped forward, "Come on, I don't bite," the closer Tony got the more he saw Peter in this kid. He looked no more than nine or ten years old and Peter was eleven, going on twelve this year.

The kid finally decided that Tony wasn't dangerous and took the granola bar, ripping the wrapper off completely and tearing it apart. Tony laughed at his eagerness and covered him with the umbrella. He looked down at the boy, thinking of his son, Peter, they were so alike. Tony placed a hand on the boy's matted wet hair and squatted down to his eye level, as he licked the crumbs off his fingers.

The boy's lightning blue eyes stared into Tony's chocolate brown ones, and Tony knew this boy had no one, nobody cared for him or protected him. The child's eyes told a sad and wild story, so Tony did what he did best.

He took what he wanted.