A Familiar Face

"Stay alive."

Peter could only infer so much from those words, though he inherently understood that the situation was riddled with danger.

His thoughts, while jumbled and sporadic, were focused on Tony's simple instruction.

"Stay alive."

Was Peter supposed to flee into hiding?

He could never return to Aunt May's home - the presented threat brings forth far too much danger. She deserves none of that.

Gwen's apartment? No. He feels the same love for her as he does for May.

There was nowhere to go.

Peter feels eyes on his back and inside his skin.

He feels dirty, in need of some form of cleansing.

It's entirely possible he's currently being watched. Hell, it's almost assured.

But by who?

Who are the nutcases continuously sending threatening images on his phone? Who has invaded Avengers Tower? Who has compromised SHIELD?

Was there even any point in hiding anymore?

If a fight was inevitable, why prolong it?

The Tower has already been compromised, and Tony frantically mentioned SHIELD's insubordination. He sounded downright abhorrent.

This was no time to run. There was nowhere to run, in any case.

Now was the time to go on the offensive. If the Time Leap Machine, and the Avengers themselves, were in danger, there was no other applicable option.

Besides... the Avengers - Steve, Clint, Tony, Bruce, Natasha, and Thor - have unwaveringly protected Peter these past few months. They've ensured he felt safe, secure and welcome while Peter traversed and settled into their world.

It appears as though it's time to return the favor.

So, without any further hesitation, Peter leaps from Oscorp Tower, plummeting toward the concrete jungle below.

xxx

The air is frozen lace on his suit, delicate and cold. Breath rises in visible puffs to join the darkened clouded night sky. There's a freezing chill in the air that brings crispness to the leaves, bejeweled with frost, that would most likely crunch underfoot.

Peter is most likely rosy-cheeked under his mask. Teeth chatter and the cold seeps into his gloves, numbing the fingers until they cease to bend properly, stiffened and frigid.

The Tower peaks into view, only minutes away.

He distinctly remembers Tony mentioning the security systems attributed to the entirety of the building - JARVIS maintains almost complete control over the complex, though if anything is suddenly compromised or out of order the Tower locks down completely before the issue is resolved.

During this lockdown, each and every entrance is blocked by several vault-like metal doors, hindering intrusions. The same goes with each window - they're blocked from the inside by massive metallic obstructions.

Now only seconds away from his target, the Avenger's common-room, Peter braces himself.

"Showtime."

He slams full-force into the window and subsequent metal shielding, ripping right through the Tower's defences. Everything is pitch-black. The intruders have obviously cut the power.

Voices suddenly fill the air, screaming orders and exclaiming the arrival of Spider-Man. It occurs to Peter that the intruders have meticulously concealed their tones through robotic distortion and manipulation, accentuating the eerie situation.

"TARGET #3 HAS ENTERED THE VICINITY! CUT HIS ACCESS TO THE LAB!"

With one quick reflex, Peter activates the night-vision embedded into his helmet and assesses the situation - several men are littered throughout the room, each with a firearm and heavy armor.

Peter's eye-lenses provide further information - heart rate of hostiles: between 130-170 beats per minute. Bodily armor: highly resistant to physical force. Weakest areas pinpointed: cranium, sternum, and clavicle.

While frantically analyzing the data, Peter's spider-senses flare dangerously.

Gunfire. It was a violence to the still, eerie serenity of the pitch-black room - a noise that heralded death and destruction. It cracked into the air as loud as thunder but without the raw power of a storm.

Peter leaped to the ceiling and launched himself from one corner of the room to another, swiftly landing abhorrently powerful blows to either the head, shoulder blade or chest of every hostile.

Some were knocked completely out and required no further effort, though others were far more dedicated to their objective.

Peter would disarm them by webbing their rifles, though the killers simply drew their combat knives and continued to assault.

The elevator suddenly opens.

More men pour into the area.

"KILL THE PIECE OF SHIT!"

Further statistics flash across Peter's lenses.

Hostiles: fourteen.

Average heart rate of hostiles: between 140-180 beats per minute.

Firearms detected: rifles, shotguns, silenced sniper rifle.

This doesn't deter Peter.

At this point in time, nothing will.

The room falls into chaos. Each frantic bullet rips into something, be it inanimate or living, spilling concrete from the walls or spurts of blood with equal unfeeling.

Peter's heart drops.

He expected the soldiers to restrain their fire while one of their comrades stood in the line of fire, though they're simply mowing down their own men in a desperate attempt to take down the target.

This is madness.

More men go down.

Peter ducks and covers, narrowly avoiding the spray of shotgun fire. He succeeds for the most part. Some shrapnel embeds itself into his arm.

It hardly matters now.

His forceful fist knocks a soldier from one end of the room into the other, the body crashing through anything in the vicinity.

Further shotgun fire.

Peter leaps, landing right beside another attacker as he swiftly elbows the killer with enormous strength. Their legs give way as additional screams of pain fill his eardrums.

Peter turns with ferocity, landing eyes on the final hostile.

Only one lef-

A final gunshot.

Vision goes woozy.

Room is suddenly oddly shaped.

Peter looks down.

A sniper bullet has pierced his shoulder.

He looks back at the intruder, shooting a web with his undamaged arm directly at the attacker's sternum.

It connects, and Peter pulls the figure toward him, reeling a fist back with intense, almost incredulous strength. It collides with the chest of the shooter. Blood spurts from his mouth.

The room falls into silence once again.

Peter laughs, his knees wobbly.

Laughing hurts.

"G-guess... I need some more training from... t-the 'ol Captain," he exhales. "Ouch."

Without wasting any further time, ignoring the carnage and destruction of the room, Peter enters the elevator.

xxx

The doors to Tony's laboratory are sealed shut.

Peter activates his earpiece.

"T-Tony... It's ya boy Peter. Bleeding out. And requiring severe medical a-attention. My arm is all - all numb... Oof.."

He stumbles, almost falling to his blood-drenched knees.

"Peter?!" Tony's voice echoes, concerned and strained.

The doors unseal.

"Open sesame," Peter chuckles, relieved.

Tony, in casual attire, rushes out of the laboratory and toward the teenager's shaking body. "You were told to keep safe! The people above are not playing around, kid," he whispers sharply while supporting Peter's body, hoisting the boy inside.

Peter cracks a smile and nods, "Oh, I know full well."

He stumbles further, though Tony provides stability. Peter notes profuse bleeding from the older man's temple. "Tony, you-"

"I'm fine," he sets Peter onto a chair beside the Time Leap Machine. "Don't worry about me."

This doesn't quell Peter's concern, though several hundred other important questions are attempting to escape into the open air at this particular moment.

"T-Tony... what on Earth happened?"

The billionaire is tinkering with his machine, specifically focusing on an entirely new compartment. "It - long story - It's a long -"

"Shorten it," Peter speaks firmly, holding his gunshot wound. Thankfully, Tony hasn't noticed the considerable damage to Peter's body.

No further distractions are needed, it seems.

"I got - got the Compressor. In and out - sneaky, sneaky - like I said I would." He inhales sharp breaths. "Suddenly, JARVIS picked up strange signals, both inside the Tower and inside SHIELD. I looked into it. The signals were connected."

Peter frowns. "The guys up there - they were SHIELD?"

"No. SHIELD's been compromised. The new director - Pearce - is Hydra. I dug some more - they've known about the Time Machine for months, waiting for an opportunity to take it."

Peter shakes his head. "You said this was completely off the radar. How the hell could they have found out!?"

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Tony diverts his attention to Peter. "Do you remember the connection I established between the Machine and SHIELD? Those sixty-four direct lines which would allow the time travel process to initiate at incomprehensible speeds?"

Peter nods, suddenly understanding the situation.

"They noticed the lines."

Tony nods slowly. "They noticed the lines. They took out Fury to ensure Pearce was elected the next SHIELD Director, and they waited for an opportunity to strike. The Tower was invaded, all communications were blocked, and I have no idea where any other Avenger is."

The already strained heart in Peter's chest continues to ache. "Not even Bruce?"

Tony exhales, shaking his head, eyes forcefully shut. "He was gone by the time I came back. They've taken him. They-"

Scuffles are heard from outside the laboratory doors.

Tony slowly rises to his feet. Peter attempts to do the same, though the blood loss and pain from his bullet wounds are far too much to manage.

"P-Peter? No, no, no-" Tony finally notices the wounds, looking mortified; shaking.

Before he can do anything to help the teenager, the laboratory doors burst open.

Gunshots in movies and video games are abundant, each one only marginally increasing the viewer's adrenaline. Here, however, they are as good as a hypodermic to the heart. Each one isn't simply loud. They crack into the air and echo around the room, magnifying the feeling of sudden vulnerability.

Tony moves swiftly, motioning his arms frantically in an odd manner. Peter realizes he's summoning suits.

Sure enough, several old Iron Man armors positioned around the lab spring to life and leap at the incoming attackers. The original Mark III rushes to Peter, completely protecting him from the incoming fire.

Over the immense pounding of the gunshots, Peter distinctly hears Tony. "THE MACHINE! IT'S READY, KID! USE IT!"

The entire room halts into a slow crawl. Slow-motion.

Peter looks down at his wounds. The sniper bullet left a gaping, dark red hole that oozed thickly, but hundreds of different tiny wounds – like shrapnel - were shattered across his arms and leg. The shotguns wounds from earlier, he assumed.

He was going to die here, tonight.

"Pe-"

What were his last words to Aunt May? He can't even remember.

"PETE-"

What were his last words to Gwen? He can't even remember.

"PETER-"

What were his last words to Uncle Ben?

He... remembers.

"PETER, THE MACHINE!"

Tony's words force themselves back into Peter's pulsating head.

Now wasn't the time or place for contemplation.

Now was the time to save the world.

Time suddenly returns to it's original speed. Peter attempts to stand once more, his legs almost completely giving way.

The Mark III offers a hand, which Peter accepts.

He's hoisted to his feet, now determined to reach the Time Leap Machine's headset.

Determined to undo this entire ordeal by traveling to the past.

The Mark III remains by Peter's side, firing rockets and machine ammunition at the gunmen. They're never-ending.

The entire floor is almost completely drenched in flames.

Another bullet hits Peter.

He grunts, taking it in stride.

"C'mon. Don't die on me now, irradiated super-powered body of mine," he breathes. "Can't die now."

He reaches the headset.

Machine gun fire continues to fill the room.

The Mark III looks almost completely decimated at this point.

Peter places the headset on his ears.

With no time to waste - his wounds now unbearably, insurmountably agonising - he activates the machine.

Turning, he finds Tony's face one last time, the older man fighting alongside his own Iron Man suits.

Their eyes suddenly meet.

Peter thinks he sees Tony smile. Or smirk. Or beam. Or a combination of all three.

It disappears all-too-quickly, however.

Tony's body hits the floor, now riddled with bullets.

Peter, unable to register the death, succumbs to the pain of his wounds and loses consciousness as the Time Leap Machine sends him into the past.

xxx