A/N: Hey, guys, thanks for reading! Once again, please, go to fiction press, search "Zandorv" under authors, and read my script there, "Blood Redemption." It needs reviews! Thanks!

Ben struggled uselessly against the bonds that held him as a tall man walked into the room. He was wearing the suit that Ben had wanted revenge on for eight years; now Ben saw the face behind that mask. He had white hair and red eyes; his skin was very pale. He was an albino. He was over six feet tall by a margin and was built like a bodybuilder. He had a large square jaw and a slightly curving nose that seemed to hint cruelty. His teeth were sharp and his tongue was very long; that was part of the effect of his symbiote genes. He grinned cruelly as Ben made a particularly hard struggle against his bonds. Without saying a word, the man walked over to Ben, pulled his mask off, and put the same hand on his head. Ben struggled desperately with his bonds to no avail. The visions he saw were more realistic than any memory. It was as if he was really there:

Ben was four years old again, and a large pit bull snarled as it stood over him. He had no where to go; he felt a rusted chain-link fence behind him. He started to cry, and the dog lunged. He screamed for help, but the dog was already on him. It ripped into him, tearing at his flesh and hurting him. His four-year old mind raced through thoughts about the dog. He just wanted it gone, he'd never done anything to it, it was Tom that had hit it, he wanted the pain to stop! Please, mommy, daddy, somebody help! Just as he felt the dog's snaps stop, someone was pulling it away-

He was ten, and two teenage boys were taking turns holding his head under water, pretending to drown him. They were angry at him for some reason- he wasn't sure why anymore. He gasped for air as his head and body came out from under the water, only to get water sucked into his lungs as he was plunged back in. his hands were tied together with shoestrings because he had tried to hit the angry boys so much. Suddenly, one of the boys fell on the slippery bank of the river they were at, and Ben was swept away by the current. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move- he struggled to untie the knots that held his hands together, unable to fight the current with only his legs. His lungs screamed at him, and just as the shoestrings fell away and he was able to swim-

He was eight. His father, Spiderman, was fighting another villain, and he was watching eagerly. He cheered his father on as he fought the "bad guy" and was sure of his victory. His dad had hurt him so badly, there was no way he could fight back anymore. His dad started to limp away from the scene, exhausted, when Ben saw something. He watched in horror, and tried to scream through the television screen. His father couldn't hear him as the loser of the battle used the last of his strength to rise. He stood as best he could, and as Spiderman turned around, a huge, hook-like protrusion made out of what appeared to be bone came out of the man's body. It pierced him right through the heart on the left side of his chest. Spiderman let out a cry as the blade went all the way through his back and pulled out with a sickening sound. Ben was in tears, watching his father die without anything he could do to help. He started to hit the television screen uselessly as if it would somehow help his father. He looked one last time at the monster on the screen that had killed his father, and swore revenge. He felt an anger and hatred deeper than he had ever known. The thing staggered off, forgotten, as the crowd took the body away. Ben noticed most of them were in tears, but one of them felt as he did. He ran to his room, not knowing what to do, and-

The man took his hand off Ben's head. Ben was drenched in sweat, and he felt tears on his cheeks. He lunged, nearly sobbing, at the man in front of him, forgetting his bonds. He struggled for a minute, then, exhausted, stopped struggling entirely. He simple put as much anger and malice as he could into the glare he gave the albino man in front of him- the one who had killed his father.

The man simply chuckled, and left. All Ben's emotion and strength had spent itself, but he still tried to struggle against his bonds. His arms and wrists began to ache from being held in the same position, over his head, supporting most of his weight, for so long. He didn't care. He couldn't care about anything. After a minute, he just stopped moving. It was quiet enough for him to hear the conversation on the other side of the door, though he wasn't really listening.

"Yes, I'll make sure all his endorphins are down as much as I can make them. Yes, I'll put his substance P up to the highest level I can. A paper cut would have him in agony." An unfamiliar voice was saying. The voice didn't sound happy about any of this information. It sighed, and said, "Thane, are you sure this is necessary? I know the boy is his son, but do we really-" Ben didn't hear the quiet response clearly, but it sounded angry. "…Alright." Was the defeated response it got. Light flooded in, momentarily blinding Ben as someone opened the door. He was confused by the slight figure before him, not sure what the man was supposed to do. He didn't see any reason to be afraid of this man, but his instincts seemed to think so. The man sighed and muttered, "Why am I doing this?" to himself in a quiet, pained voice. Then his face changed to a look of concentration, and Ben's confusion was consumed by agony. He heard screams echoing through the room, unsure that such a sound could some from his throat. He could feel the cut, which had appeared like magic. It wasn't deep, why did it hurt so much? The pain was fading now, the wound was healing up quickly. He had no time to think before another, fresh wound, deeper this time, sliced through his torso. The screaming echoed through the room again, and the wound began to heal itself again. A third cut came, and then a fourth, then a fifth. The cuts were no longer waiting to heal themselves before ripping his skin open again. He wasn't sure how long this continued, he only knew his every nerve was on fire, and he couldn't bear it. He heard his own hoarse voice pleading without his permission. Whatever he had said must have worked, because the man causing his injuries gave his own pained cry and stopped for a moment. Ben looked down at himself. His suit was soaked with blood, but there were no extra rips in it. He had little time to contemplate this before the pain started again, this time continuing until he lost consciousness.

Leigh awoke, groggily trying to piece his memories together. Where was he? In a dark, shabby old room… Wait. Hadn't he just been falling through the air? Yes, that's what he'd been doing, just a moment ago. He'd jumped off a building because…

Ty.

Grief, anger, and shock pierced through Leigh like white hot knives all at once. He screamed in rage and grief, noticing his bonds as he struggled to move his body. He noticed, but didn't care. He heard his voice shouting Ty's name, but it seemed so distant. He could feel the tears on his cheeks, but it felt so detached. Then his shouts became quiet, pained whispers as sobs began to shudder through him. Another, familiar voice spoke, cautiously calling his name.

"Leigh… Leigh?" mumbled Ben, coming out of his fog as he heard a familiar voice. "What… What is it? What's wrong with Ty? What-" he stopped short as he realized that there was only one thing the agonized calls coming from Leigh could mean. "Oh, Leigh, I'm…" he stopped short, not knowing what to say. "Sorry" just wasn't right. There was nothing to say. After a minute that was an eternity, Leigh's sobs quieted.

His voice was dead as he asked, "Where are we?"

"I'm not sure." Ben answered, his own voice somber.

Another eternity of silence passed between them. Ben reflected on everything that had happened because of his quest for revenge. Here they were, probably about to be tortured to death, May would no doubt be caught soon enough, and Ty was now… well, gone. He was only a child. Leigh was right. He was entirely selfish. How could he have not seen that this would involve other people? He should have foreseen this disastrous turn of events. Of course they would lose. The thing had defeated a much more experienced hero, without anyone helping. Of course it would turn out badly. How could he have been so consumed by his vengeance? Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. The only thing to do now was think of a way out. But how? Even at full strength he doubted he could get out of these rings- they were made of thick titanium, attached to a titanium wall. Right now there was no way. There didn't even appear to be a key hole, or any other way to take these things off. They definitely weren't supposed to be let go.

Ben's thoughts were interrupted as he heard footsteps coming toward the door. "Do what I do!" Ben whispered urgently.

"What?" was Leigh's only reply. Ben closed his eyes and hung his head just as the door began to open. Leigh hurriedly tried to imitate his friend, but it was too late. The big man coming through the doorway saw him. He was dressed in oddly normal clothes, just jeans and a t-shirt, but was still easily recognizable as the villain Ben had spent so much energy hunting. He smiled, amused, as he saw through Leigh's trick. Leigh reluctantly opened his eyes, aware that he'd been caught. The man's voice was deep, with the slightest hint of menace in it.

"Every day I will take you to a pay phone. You will call for help from the Spider girl. You will give her an address, and she will come." Leigh spat in his face in response. The man chuckled. "You will see." He said simply, as if he were talking to a small child about a concept out of his reach. He put his hand on Leigh's head.

Leigh was in a hospital, staring at the emaciated Johnny Storm, tears in his eyes. His father was close to dying, he could see it in his eyes, his frame, in the eyes of the nurses who came through to check on him. This may be the last time he would ever see his father. Still, as always, Johnny kept himself in a good mood. "C'mon, kid, it's not so bad. We all have to go some time. And our good friend Dr. Doom's gonna be pissed 'cuz he didn't get to finish me off." He let out a weak laugh. "I'm tired of this old hospital bed anyway. The people here smell funny." Johnny's attempts to make his oldest son laugh backfired, as the tears welled up and spilled over. "Aw, c'mon, don't cry!" He plead. He didn't know how to deal with crying kids. Leigh knew all this, but he couldn't stop crying as he thought of all the things his father and he had done before the cancer, and how he had looked, compared to the skeleton he was now. Most of all, he couldn't stop crying when he thought of his father as nothing more than a gravestone, maybe a statue in the city, just a memory. He couldn't go! It wasn't right, Leigh wouldn't allow it! But he knew there was nothing he could do. He sobbed for his father's death, and his helplessness, and his mother, and his baby brother, who would grow up without a dad. As if he could read his thoughts, Johnny took on a more serious voice. "Listen, Leigh." Hearing his father's command made Leigh's sobs turn into nothing more than small sniffles almost immediately. "You're gonna have to be big enough right now to hear this, okay? I can't say it later." Each word was an effort to say. "That baby you're mom's about to have, he's gonna need you. He's gonna look at you like you're me. Now, you be a better dad to him than I was to you. I know that's a big job. Hell, being a dad was a big job for me, and I was more than twice your age. But just do your best, son. Take care of him for me. Look out for him, protect him, you know? Ah, I was never great with words. I'm starting to repeat myself. I'm sorry for leaving you with all this, Leigh. Sorry about all that. Just look out for him, son."

Now he was staring at his father's casket as he was lowered into the ground. He turned his head into his mother's black dress, crying into it, not caring if he looked like he was four years old. There were only a limited number of people allowed at the funeral, just friends and family. The whole city, of course, had wanted to come. He didn't listen as people said good things about Johnny. He just cried.

Now Leigh shook his head, shaking off unconsciousness. His vision came back to him, black around the edges, and he did not comprehend what he saw in front of him- Ty, fireballs in his hands, charging the great villain whose neck was the size of Ty's waist. Before Leigh could think straight, a hook went straight through Ty's chest. Everything snapped back into focus. He watched everything in slow motion. Ty fell to the ground, and Gorefest retracted his weapon. Leigh was moving before his brain had time to recognize the rage that flooded through him; he tackled the larger man, filling his every cell with enough tingling electricity to fry an elephant. But before he could release it, he felt something hard hit his head, and he was unconscious again.

"NO!" Leigh screamed. He was jerked out of his experience as suddenly as he had begun it, and grief flooded through him with triple the power. His father's last words to him echoed through his head as his mind played through his little brother's death. Just look out for him, son.

He didn't notice the large frame lumbering out of the room. He didn't notice his own tears. He didn't notice Ben's attempts at comforting him. He didn't notice anything for a long time. When he finally did notice something, it was excruciating.

Leigh's eyes and mouth popped wide open as an involuntary scream tore out of him, corresponding to the agony that began to rip through his entire body. He could feel cuts an lacerations appearing and healing within seconds; he was only vaguely aware the same thing was happening to Ben beside him. Time lost meaning, and he didn't know whether he had spent minutes or hours in this state when it finally stopped. His breathing was harsh and ragged; his throat was raw from screaming. The villain finally stepped back in the room, looked the shaking boy straight in the eyes, and said,

"Phone?"

Leigh wanted to spit in his face again, but his throat was too dry. The best he could do was rasp out a whispered "No," in defiance. Gorefest shrugged and walked out of the room, seeming unaffected. He was confident Leigh would cave eventually. And if he didn't, well, he was disposable. That was the only reason he was here in the first place.

Three long days of anguish later, Leigh found himself a sweaty, dirty, bloody mess. He wondered if anyone would recognize him if they saw him. He hadn't eaten in three days; he was in a constant state of exhaustion. He was mulling dully through ill-conceived, foggy escape plans when he noticed his smaller torturer walk into the room. He flinched involuntarily, bracing himself for the physical pain that was about to come, and dreading the mental anguish that would come later even more. He waited for what seemed like hours, relaxing ever so slightly in confusion. What was going on? Leigh didn't move as the young man walked towards him, much closer than usual.

"I can't do this anymore." He told Ben and him quietly. "It doesn't matter what Thane says; this revenge is ridiculous, I'm getting both of you out of here."

Huh. That was a surprise.

"Now listen." He continued, "Thane's still here, so I can't do anything now, but I think he'll leave some time tomorrow. I'll get you out then. I can't do anything more than that." That was all he could think to say, so he stood up and walked out the door.

Nathaniel let out a sigh as he closed the door behind him. What was he going to do? None of this was right, nothing was right, of course… But how could he betray Thane. He remembered well the past Thane had rescued him from, and pieces of it echoed through his mind.

Nathaniel was only four years old when it got his powers. He wasn't sure what had happened; he had been playing on a street at the remote edge of a small town when he had been hit by a speeding car. His parents, both very loving and supportive of him at the time, hadn't even known he was outside. When they finally found him bleeding on the road, they were sure he was dead. They rushed him to a hospital anyway. The doctors confirmed something they already knew. He would not make it. But somehow, through some miracle, he did, although he lost all of his memories before the accident. Nathaniel's guess was that some chemical on the road, something he still thought of as a green, radioactive liquid (radioactive toxic waste?) had gotten into his body and caused it to go into overdrive to make it heal. Perhaps most of it had gone to his brain. All he knew for sure, though, was that he started to heal at an astonishing rate, and had fully recovered within a month. From that point on he was the most intelligent person in his school, at his home, anywhere that he knew. He remembered one hundred percent of the facts that were given to him, he could critically analyze better than a college professor, he could do mathematics meant for graduate school students. It was later and slowly that he discovered the other things he could do with his mind.

It started out just healing his own scrapes and cuts when he was beaten up at school (the bullies there didn't take to well to any braniacs, especially a weird one like Nathaniel), but eventually he found that when he was very angry at the bullies, they would get small cuts, too, out of nowhere. After a few weeks of this, they left him alone. Unfortunately, so did all the other kids. They were all afraid of Nathaniel with his odd abilities, and no one would get near him. The students, the teachers, even his own parents became afraid of him. His father became horribly abusive, and his mother neglected him. It was during one episode of abuse, on his sixth birthday, ironically enough, that he lost absolutely everything.

His father was yelling abnormal curses, and giving an abnormal beating, after he had heard that Nathaniel had broken another students arm at school that day.

"It wasn't on purpose!" he sobbed cowering away from his father as his mother watched coldly. "I don't know how I did it, I swear!"

"My ass, you little demon!" He shouted. "You're not my son. My son died in a car accident. I don't know what you are. Now get out of my house!" Terrified, Nathaniel didn't move. "Didn't you hear me, you little monster? Out! He yelled, grabbing a kitchen knife and brandishing it at his son. Suddenly, he lunged, and Nathaniel's heart stopped. He screamed and closed his eyes, waiting for a death blow. Instead what he heard astonished him. Two other screams, his parent's screams, echoed through the room even after they were silenced. He opened his eyes slowly. What had he done? There was no one there at all. No one in the kitchen. Just him, alone. The knife had clattered to the floor inches away from him. His parents were gone.

He started a life on the streets after that, and it was on the street that Thane had found him. In a moment of pity, Thane took him in and raised him as his son. Thane was really the only thing Nathaniel knew. What's worse, Thane's schizophrenia was his fault for not being able to heal him properly after his Spiderman incident. How could he leave him? Where would he go?

For once, Nathaniel had no answers.