Her hands fell in her lap. The video was over, but Peter's face still haunted the screen. He lay frozen, trapped, inside the laptop, huddled on the cot with a momentary ease that blended too perfectly with his faith, but the blotchy bruises were like mistakes on a canvas and stood out boldly with their obvious truth.

May couldn't quite wrap her head around it. Her brain replayed the time he woke up and tried to sit normally, only to end with him writhing in pain, then it restarted over and over and over again. Those monsters put her boy in a straitjacket. They beat him. Hurt him. The grimace on his face had been the only tribute to his injuries beneath the white jacket, but she was just as certain they were there as Peter's faith in being rescued.

Slowly, May leaned back and tilted her head, staring at the ceiling as she sucked in a deep breath, but the barrier blocking her throat made it hard for any air to truly reach her lungs. She managed to keep her face clear for just a few seconds before her chin began quivering and her brows crushed her eyes, and that was when the tears finally broke. Her hands went up to cover her misery, causing the laptop to slid off her legs and hit the ground.

How could they do that to him? He was just a boy. Just her little boy.

How was she supposed to protect him from that? What could she possibly do to help?

The poison of uselessness consumed her earlier determination, and all that remained was the shriveled and sickly remnants of what could've been hope. This was just one of the videos, the earliest in date, in fact. There was no telling how worse it got from there.

"Ben," May sobbed miserably, "I can't do this anymore..." If Ben survived, none of this would be happening. Peter loved him like a father and there was hardly anything that they didn't tell each other. Maybe then, Peter wouldn't have kept his superhero life a secret for so long. Ben had always been good with Peter, he had known all the right things to say. Both he and May had been new to the parenting gig, but Ben's ability to adapt so quickly was what got them through the first few years. May promised herself during his funeral that she would do everything in her power to protect Peter, and just a few measly years later and look at what their family had become.

The door slid open, but May didn't care enough to see who it was. The bed dipped underweight and remained there patient and waiting. It took her several minutes to find the gall to look up, but Dr. Connors wasn't even looking at her, instead, he was staring blankly at the wall with his hands limp in his lap. His eyes were red and wet, and his shoulders sagged under an unseen weight of exhaustion. May slowly sat up, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her jacket, before wrapping them around herself with a determination to be unswayable.

It took a moment before Connors' spoke, but his voice was so soft and strained that May had to lean forward to pick up his words.

"You saw the videos?"

May sniffed again, but straightened her back and squared her shoulders. She wiped a few stray tears strongly and met his gaze. "Yes," she said. "One. But don't you dare say-"

"It's horrible." Connors whispered, words falling past his lips as soft as ash,"The things they did to him." May found the rest of her defense falling down her throat, and it was then that she noticed the way his hand shook, and how his shoulder sagged with more than just physical exhaustion. His eyes couldn't stay pinned to one place, and the slow, hard actions of his Adam's apple when he swallowed resembled trying to swallow a brick.

"I...I never expected they'd ever actually get him." Connors admitted, " Peter...he was always so quick on his feet, and smart - really smart. No one has ever managed to pin him down for long, not even Director Fury." His fingers twisted a knot into his white lab coat. "I don't even know how Hydra did it. I mean, what did Otto do? What was so different this time?" His words trembled and he looked down, running a hard hand over his face.

"I..." May didn't know what to say. She had expected to be reprimanded, not sympathized with. She looked for falsehoods in his words or a trick in his demeanor, but every shake and gulp was authentic. So, she slumped beside him, finding a small ease in knowing she wasn't alone in her grieving.

"I only saw one," she told him. "He -...the one with him in that white cell. He was hur-hurt, and there was a straitjacket, and...and he was..." May felt the words stick to the walls of her throat and wrung her fingers aggressively when she couldn't go on. Connors wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she did the same to him. They didn't need to speak to understand the other's grief.

Peter was Aunt May's son, and in a way, he had become something of a son for Connors too. Or, a prodigy at least. It was hard not to love the kid. Sure he could be irritating and goofy, especially when you first meet him, but after that, once you've realized just how bright, smart, and loyal he was, it was hard not to become his friend. Connor's had been impressed with Spider-Man when they first met, but it was Peter Parker who earned his respect and admiration. No matter how many times Connor's had become the Lizard, it was Peter who never doubted that he would make it out. It was Peter who drew Curt out of the scaley depths of his villainous alter ego and aspired him to fight against its control.

Which made it all the more terrible that it was partly Connor's fault that Peter had been taken. Suddenly sickened, Connor's removed his arm from May's shoulder, worried that he'd infect her with his own guilt, but it only caused May to look up with a question in her eyes.

"I…" Connor ran his hand through his hair. He couldn't keep this from her, not from Aunt May. She should at least know the culprit to her nephew's kidnapping. He wanted to tell her slow and apologetic, but it all came out in a rush as soon as he opened his mouth, "It's my fault he was taken, - I know, I'm sorry. I so sorry Aunt May. I didn't realize, I - I thought they were just going out for a day-off, but I should've left things alone - I'm sorry, I didn't want to cause everyone all this pain. I'm - I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," As soon as the last word left his tongue, the words lifted through the air and settled on his shoulders. The weight on his heart was alleviated, it was heavier. Connor's closed his eyes with a strained sigh and said, slower, "The day Peter was taken he wanted to stay at the Triskelion to finish the paperwork. But, I thought - I just thought that he was overworking himself so I asked the Web Warriors to take him out for a break, and..." his head fell on his chest and shook woefully, "If I just let him stay...if I didn't push him so much then maybe..."

May grabbed his hand before he could go on, and Connors glanced at the fingers clasped over his own, then shakily met May's eyes.

"It wasn't your fault," she told him, and her voice wrapped around his guilt with the same strength of her fingers. "I know it might feel like it, but it's not."

Connors trembled and tried to pull his hands away, but May didn't let him. After a fruitless attempt, he squeezed them back in retaliation, unsure if he meant to hurt her or take comfort in her sudden confidence.

"But how can it not be?" He demanded, and his desperation for an answer - the need for her to prove him wrong - saturated the space between them. "If I had just let him stay, none of this would've happened. He wouldn't have been at Coney Island, Otto wouldn't have gotten him. He wouldn't be - be hurt. It IS my fault. How could you know what that feels like?"

May closed her eyes and tried not to reach up and strangle him. "I know you might think I know nothing of tragedy or stress," she said carefully, "and maybe compared to you, I don't, but I DO know how you feel, Curt. The day that Ben died, I was the one who a heard noise in the kitchen. Since I thought it was Peter, Ben went in to check and...well..." May stared at her lap, trying to pick the woven strands of her shame from her pants. "You know the rest; and for months after, all I could do was blame myself for what happened. All I could think about was if I hadn't said anything, then Ben wouldn't have gone in there, and maybe he'd -" She cleared her throat and stared at her carpet, "So, I know. I get it. And I can't promise that your feelings will leave right away. They'll stay and you'll feel horrible and guilty and worried, but I want you to know, as Peter's aunt and Guardian, that it was not your fault. If it was, then it'd be the same as saying I was the one who shot Ben. You didn't give Peter over to Dr. Octopus or Hydra. You had his best interests at heart, and Dr. Octopus exploited that and took my boy. It wasn't you, Connors."

Connors sifted through her argument with his eyebrows pinched in disbelief. Still, he said, "Maybe..." if just to ease her.

May could've argued and tried to convince him, but she knew it would be pointless. Nothing she said would soothe this man's guilt right now, especially when it was so fresh. So, instead, she wrapped her arms around his shoulder again, and let him lean his head against her's. They shared their grief silently. It was hollow and painful, but it was all they needed.


The last video rolled by but the Avengers couldn't bring themselves to move. As the last-second played and the screen froze on the flickering picture of a bloodied Hydra lab, Tony clamped his hands tightly on his chin and slowly leaned forward, using his elbows as support on the table. He stared deep into the metal as if sifting through its molecular structure to find his voice again.

Disgust, like nothing he's ever felt before slopped in his stomach. Disgust and fury, and pity and sorrow - a terrible mixture that tightened the bowels of his stomach. Tony's seen a great deal of gore and crude acts throughout his life, and even now he wanted to throw his stomach up all over Hydra. That corporation held no shame. There were lines that shouldn't be crossed, areas that were taped off; there were places that people weren't supposed to go for the sake of humanity - and Hydra had erased nearly all of them. Human experimentation, child human experimentation, inhumane torture. Not only had they forced Spider-Man - Peter Parker - into a box, but they had mocked him for it. Peter may have been a hero for years now, and as sad as it was, he was no stranger to horrendous acts, but he was still a kid. A kid. Did that mean nothing to Hydra?

No, of course it didn't. How could it? This was the corporation in line with the Nazi's for goodness sake, why would they care about the people they hurt? Who would they be to take heart for the cries and screams of a child? No, they took strength in it. They relished in the pain they caused and it made Tony sick.

He muttered a curse into the table, ran a trembling hand through his hair, and then proceeded to push himself from his chair, fling it across the floor, and pace with the tenacity of a convicted man escaping his own death.

"What kind of sick, demented, sadistic sons of a -" with a furious yell he kicked the chair next to him, which found its new home on the floor.

Steve sucked in a deep breath, not even flinching when the chair clattered close to him. "I - I know Tony..." he leaned into his hands and covered his face. "I know."

Across the table, Natasha twirled one of her knives on the tip of her index finger. Her eyes followed the smooth twist of the dagger hilt, thinking of a time with ballet slippers, soft music, and a red room. She recalled the screams that harmonized with violins, and the splatters of pain that blended in with the walls, she saw it as sharp as the edge of her blade. The dagger fell back into her palm. The Red Room taught her to feel nothing, but behind the cool structure of her countenance hell was rising in her eyes, and Natasha was okay with it.

"We need to find him," she said, sliding the knife into its holster.

"Yeah we do," Tony yelled, shrill and out of breath, "We need...we need clues, or - or something to tell us where he went, or escapes. There has to be some sort of exit, or underground tunnel that he...that he could've..." he wrung his hands, clenching and unclenching them as if around an imaginary neck. "Did - Did you see what they...what he became..." Tony looked up, trying to find an emotional checker in the ceiling, before his face bared unsuccessfully and he slammed his fist into the table and went back to staring acidic holes into the metal.

"He must've escaped through one of Hydra's exits," Natasha continued, as if unaware of Tony's interruption. "The warehouse is near a neighborhood, so we need surveillance within a 100 - mile radius, we can NOT let those citizens get hurt. In fact, we need to keep this as close to the chest as possible. If anything gets out, the media will have a field day with it, the Bugle in particular."

Tony looked up from where he was hunched over the table, "The media?" he growled. "Is that what you're so concerned about? The media? Not about the boy who's trapped inside that - that slimy, mind-controlling monster? Or - or the fact that he has been tortured and experimented on nearly nonstop for two weeks? OR that he went through hell? This is a lo-"

Natasha lurched to her feet, the gauntlets on her wrist already illuminating with an electrical charge. "Don't you DARE talk to me about hell, Tony!" she snapped, "I know exactly what you mean. Spider-Man went through something horrible, and what those sick bastards did to him isn't right - in fact, I can't even call it inhumane. The things they did to him. What he felt he needed to do just to be safe - it's awful. It is. Which is WHY we need to keep this low. That boy in there," she pointed to the screen. "killed almost a hundred people. A hundred, Tony. He's only what? Sixteen? Seventeen? Do you know what kind of impact that will have on him? Spider-Man loathes killing; it's not even an option for him. So how do you think he will react to finding out from some media news story that he killed over 70 people in one night. They were Hydra, yes, but that won't matter to him. He took their life and he will feel that, and it will break him, and do you honestly think I want that?"

Tony looked down at the table, fists clenched, but silent. Natasha stood bristled for just a few seconds more, than inhaled quietly. She couldn't blame Tony for acting up though. It was an expected reaction. It made sense. She couldn't be too harsh on him for having emotions - he was angry, just like the rest of them, only he happened to be more expressive about it than they were.

"I'm worried about him too," she said, calm again. "But I won't let others get hurt because of him, for their sake and his. Imagine how he would feel to wake up and realize that he didn't just kill those agents, but families and kids. That would kill him, Tony." Natasha moved around the table, coming up beside him. Tony sighed and his shoulders fell, just slightly, and she knew her words were getting through.

"We were too late saving him from Hydra," Natasha continued, "so let's make it up to him now."

Tony kept his head down but nodded curtly. Natasha hesitated, then softly placed a hand on his arm and squeezed. Comforting people wasn't in her skillset, so it was the best she could do without making the situation worse.

"I'll make the preparations for surveillance on the neighborhood myself. We'll find him as soon as he pops up on our radars." With that, Natasha strode out of the room with a gait as strong and confident as her word.

The remaining members were silent in her absence, until Clint picked up his bow, ran a hand over the sleek material of its arc, and said, "She's right, you know."

"Yeah, I know, Barton," Tony said, curling in slightly. "I know. I just..."

"Hey, no, I get it. This isn't easy," Clint set his bow on the table and picked up his quiver. "We always knew Hydra was bad, but doing this to a kid?" he shook his head as he grabbed an arrow and tapped its point. "I didn't think they'd take it that far. But, they did, and now it's up to us to do something about it." He got to his feet and slung his bow over his shoulder, looking like an angry, 20th century Robin Hood. "I'll admit it, Spider-Man is a great kid. He's really annoying and has a bit of a mouth on him, but he didn't deserve that. NO kid deserves that, which is why we need to step up. Nat was right, we failed him the first time. When he was counting on us, we weren't there, so let's not mess it up again." Grabbing the quiver and swinging it over his other shoulder, Clint followed after Natasha.

Sam peaked over his arms to watch the archer go, then reburied it when the door closed. "Tony," he whispered, drawing the mans attention. "How-how old is Spider-Man, exactly?"

Creases appeared on Tony's forehead, dark under his grievance, and he collapsed back in his chair, rubbing a hand slowly over his head. "Eighteen" he answered. "He turned eighteen on the tenth."

A sharp inhale came from beneath the arms. "Why would they do that?" Sam inquired as if Tony had told him the world no longer spun on its axis. "How can there be actual people like that out there?"

Steve gave a passing glance at Sam, but his eyes reflected his agreement. However, Steve was sad to admit that he wasn't even surprised. After fighting Hydra so many times, he was depressed to realize that he was getting used to their gruesome ways. Experimenting on kids, it was ghastly and horrible, and yet it was hardly anything unexpected.

This is was what Hydra did, he supposed. It took the human out of the most sentiment of beings and squandered it into something as thin and docile as dust. He wished with every ounce of his being that he had succeeded in crushing Hydra back in the war, but the corporation truly lived up to its namesake. No matter how many heads Steve cut, two more grew in its place. It was a repetitive cycle that he was becoming fed up with.

"I don't know what goes on through Hydra's head to do something like...," Steve's grim silence was enough. Even so, he sat up in his seat, back straight, like a soldier. "But it's our responsibility to put an end to it now."

In the back, Hulk shifted against the wall. It was unnerving how still he had been throughout the videoes. He had kept his eyes fixated on the screen with his only movement being the steady rising and falling of his chest, but now that the videos were over, it was distinctly clear just how much they had impacted him. Hulk was a giant, rage-filled, titan - yes - but if someone could earn his trust and loyalty, then he would crush the very moon for them. The special thing about Spider-Man was that it hadn't been Bruce Banner he befriended, it had been Hulk, and it was that fragile connection that Hulk treasured. Now that the connection was threatened, however, it took every bit of self-restraint he could manage to keep from rampaging Brooklyn for one of the few people who tolerated him.

Blank-faced, Hulk pushed off the wall and thumped across the floor, leaving foot-sized dents in his wake. Steve knew it was bad when Hulk reverted back to his limited dialect.

"Hulk go Vista Verde," he growled. "Be back. Get Bug-Man soon." They let him go, none daring to get in the way of an 8'ft rageful giant. To be honest, they were surprised Hulk was handling his anger so well, considering how close he was to Spider-Man. They'd expect the destruction of the room, at the very, very least, but, aside from the footprints in the floor, everything was undamaged. Well, until, minutes later when his furious roar echoed like a thunderclap outside the triskelion, and the building jolted as he jumped off.

Sam stared at the indents of Hulk's footprints, pained, as if Hulk had personally stepped on his face. He didn't need to know Spider-Man to understand how serious this was. It wasn't just because Spider-Man was a kid though, there was more to it than that. That "kid" had been a major part of SHIELD, according to the staff - he helped maintain the building, oversaw most of the activities that involved the students, and assisted Dr. Connors in running the place in the absence of Director Fury. Hydra had been looking for something, and they thought that something was with Spider-Man. But what was it? What was so important that Hydra would take it this far? Sam looked over at Steve, kneading his fingers anxiously.

"So," he said. "What are we going to do now?"

Steve glanced at Sam, then straightened up as his hand found the edge of his shield, which had been leaning against the table. "We're going to find Spider-Man, is what," he said, "I've fought Hydra before, so I've seen the effect they have on people. We need to find Spider-Man soon and fast. Who knows what's going through his head while those symbiotes have him."

"Speaking of symbiotes," Tony muttered, lifting his head, officially roused from his headspace. One look in his eyes and it was clear that his earlier anger had hardened into a determined rage, one that Steve's seen most in battle; the one that villains have learned to dread. "I'm gonna need to do some research on those things. Figure out a weakness, or some way to get him out of it. I remember Spider-Man saying something about electricity and vibrations, so I'll see what I can cook up." He was on his feet before either two could agree, and shouted, "JARVIS, call my armor. We're heading back to the tower."

"Yes, Sir."

Halfway out the door though, Tony stopped to look back at Sam and Steve. "Anyone want to join?"

"I'll help," Sam offered, getting out of his chair. "I don't know Spidey very well, but it's the least I can do."

Tony smiled, eyes shining with gratitude, then turned to Steve, "And what about you, Cap?"

"I think I'm going to stay here," Steve said, standing as well. "Someone's got to talk to those kids about what happened in the warehouse."

Tony winced, obvious in his pity regarding Steve's decision. "Good luck," he said, "Those kids sure are tenacious, they've been piggybacking on my servers this whole time."

Steve almost dropped his shield when he whirled around, jaw-dropping. "What? You mean they've been watching the videoes this whole time?" He eyebrows cut down, lips dipping. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Would it have mattered?" Tony asked, clicking a button on the wall, and instantly the screen coming off the table disappeared. "That Amadeus kid is pretty smart, He already downloaded them into the Iron Spider software by the time I noticed. Besides, what you guys said was right, they do deserve to know. But," he emphasized, meeting Steve's eyes, "after watching those videos, I think they're going to need a seasoned soldier to talk to."

Steve looked down at the table, arms crossed with a sigh, but nodded. They were going to need more than a seasoned soldier, he thought, they were going to need a therapist.

Steve needed a therapist. "I'll get right on it."

Before Tony and Sam were gone though, Steve added, "But we do need to talk later. I was already sure of it before, but after watching the videos, I'm positive Hydra was looking for something, and it has to do with why Nick Fury is gone."

Tony's lips pursed, "Hmm, well, after you're done chaperoning the kids, try asking around and see if you can find out anything. I think you're onto something," and with that, he left.

Steve took a few more minutes of staring at the spot the screen had disappeared from, trying his best to conjure the right words to say to the kids. They all had a personal stake in this. If it had been one of Steve's teammates in those videoes, there'd be nothing getting in his way in saving them. He had a feeling it was the same for the students.

He really hoped they were alright.


A group of teenagers sitting around the blank screen, and not one of them could breathe a word.

Sometime during the videos, Scarlet had moved well away from the group and was now staring listlessly at the ground, as if searching for the answers of his very existence in the linoleum. The screams of Peter and Hydra agents rang in his ear, like an over-conceited echo that was bent on shoving every failure and mistake he made back in his face. No matter how much he tried to draw himself back up to look at the picture as a whole, all he could think about was how Peter had panicked and screamed his name. Peter Parker, in a mindless state of pain and agony, had personally called him out, and it wasn't for help - oh, no - it was because he had mistaken Crossbones for Scarlet. It had to be some form of PTSD, or an effect of Peter's mental state, but all Scarlet was sure of was that Spider-Man - Peter Parker - was afraid of him, and it was that same fear that got him outed on his falsehoods on Fury.

Scarlet tried to remain unforthcoming to his emotions by repeating the lessons taught to him about disregarding his personal feelings, but any sort of numbing technique Octavius had instructed him in weren't working. Scarlet could feel every thick, suffocating emotion that crept up through his throat to the battle warring in his head. Even below the neck, he could feel the thick sludge of guilt and self-hate clogging his lungs.

He had been so stupid to think he could actually be a good guy when he's Hydra through and through. Any bit of good in him had fled since he was taken from the streets and brainwashed to do the bidding of a madman. He had lost all his chances of retribution and morality with the first secret report on Spider-Man. He had been fooling himself this whole time.

Spider-Man was wrong - Scarlet wasn't a hero.

And they all knew it too.

Everyone in the group was like a statue on the verge of cracking. The Medusa hiding within the electrical moldings of Cho's screen had paralyzed them all, and Scarlet could only guess what was going on through their heads. The effects were wearing off, however, and the stone casing around Agent Venom was the quickest to break. Venom rose from his solid casting and slowly turned around, his limbs being too leeched to perform anything within the area of "a flash". The shadows of the room made him look darker and far more imposing then he's ever been before. Scarlet turned, just slightly so he didn't meet Venom's eyes, but he could feel the sharp gaze driving deeper into his back.

"..you..." Agent Venom tried to say, but his voice choked and refused to come out of its stupor. "You - he..." his fingers curled around the side of the bunk he had been sitting on, digging deep trenches into the metal. "You - you did this," he finally managed to get out in a strangled and hoarse whisper.

Scarlet couldn't say anything to deny it. Instead, he shrunk back, feeling the guilt of his own subconscious tear at the remains of the boy inside. Agent Venom's words became parasites that settled on his skin and tunneled through his flesh, then got to work devouring him from the inside out.

"You did this," Venom repeated, with more grit.

"I'm-" Scarlet took a step back, shoulders curling inward. A part of him, an angry part, wanted to get back at Flash, but the heavy and low morality he felt was more than enough to keep him truckled. "...I'm sorry..." he whispered weakly, but the palliation he was going for fell limp like a broken leaf.

"YOU DID THIS!" Venom roared and surged forward. Scarlet ducked his head but didn't move. He deserved what was coming next.

He hoped Agent Venom took his time.

Only, someone stepped in the way. A bright, blinding wall of light appeared in front of Agent Venom, who was so surprised he stumbled back and nearly fell over on the bunk. The wall disappeared and Agent Venom was back up, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the lingering white spots, then glaring at his interrupter.

Dagger was squared in front of Scarlet with two long light daggers poised in each hand, each tip leveled with Agent Venom's chest. Her eyes were narrowed with warning.

She said one word. "Don't."

Agent Venom stepped forward, the broadness of his shoulders making him loom. "You're protecting him?" he demanded. "You're protecting the traitor?"

"That's in the past," Dagger said, gripping the daggers more tightly. "Scarlet's changing. He's trying to be better."

"Better?" Venom repeated, voice calloused with a scoff of disbelief. "Did you not just see what I saw? Huh? Cause I just saw Spider-Man, the one who trusted Scarlet the most, scream his name in fear!" Dagger looked down, as if just remembering too. But Flash knew she remembered. It wasn't something they could forget within the timespace of a few minutes - or ever.

"How can we forget what Scarlet did to us?" he continued, bitingly, "What he did to him? He outed Spider-Man to Otto, almost literally stabbed him in the back, so who says he won't do the same to the rest of us, huh?"

"Flash!' Dagger snapped, harder this time. "He's CHANGING. You weren't down there in the sewers with us when he found that lab. He's trying to find Spider-Man just as much as we are, maybe even more than you," Venom drew back as if Dagger had just stabbed him in the chest. "Scarlet Spider is still a part of this team, now start treating him like it."

It was silent between them, then very slowly, almost as if time dropped, Agent Venom's fist hardened and the whites of his eyes cut down, coming to the point of a furious glare. "I can't do that," he told her, low and dark. "Not yet, maybe ever. And you know what, you weren't there, Dagger, when Scarlet snuck into Aunt May's house. You didn't see the way he lied to her, right to her face, right to our faces. He's been lying this WHOLE TIME, and you think I'm just going to forgive him because he decided to have a change of heart?"

Dagger bristled, "Spider-Man did," she bit back. "He was hit the worst and he forgave him, so why can't you?"

Venom laughed, a bitter sound of melancholy disbelief, "Spider-Man - he's a person all his own. He forgives people even when he shouldn't," he looked down at his own hands, "when they didn't even deserve it. But I'm not Spider-Man, I can't forget all the pain he caused us. I'm not ready to forgive that." He turned his back to Dagger and stormed to the exit, continuing over his shoulder,"And judging by the way Spider-Man acted," his voice faltered in grievance, "I'm guessing he wasn't either."

Dagger lowered the lights in her hand as Venom left the room. When he was gone, she turned to Scarlet and the daggers evaporated through her fingers. "Hey, you alright?"

Scarlet had backed up even more, with his arms wrapped tighter around himself. "I -" he shook his head. No - no, he's right - I'm not - you can't -"

Dagger stepped forward and Scarlet quickly jerked away, making her pause. He really was hurting, she realized. Hurt in a way that he couldn't fix on his own. "Don't listen to him, Scarlet." she said as firm and self-assuring as she could manage, "I know you're sorry about what happened, and I know Spider-Man forgave you. Really forgave you."

From the group, Nova looked up and muttered bitterly, "But did he?"

Cloak glanced down at Nova, lips pursing. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean," Nova drawled, "did Spidey REALLY forgive Scarlet? Yeah, he tried, but we all know he's never been the same after." He folded his arms with his lips turned down, deep in thought. "He's...he's been more skeptical and nervous and jittery. I mean, has no one else noticed how often he looks over his shoulder?"

Powerman scowled, "Looking over his shoulder? Well, yeah, it's not like he has a bunch of villains riding up his back for revenge every other week. Spidey's first fight with Goblin alone had him staying up all night. His fights left him with quirks, like the rest of us, but we can't go and blame Scarlet for all of them for making one mistake."

"One mistake?" Squirrel Girl said, and the usually jovial pitch of her voice was replaced with something hard. "That wasn't just one mistake, Powerman!" she spat, "We lived here. We all welcomed Scarlet, and he betrayed us all." She looked down, and it took Powerman a moment to notice the quivering of her chin. When her voice came back, it was choked, "Eleven of my squirrels drowned that night. We ALL almost died that night, and I'm - we're just supposed to - to forgive that because he decided not to go through with it?" she shook her head fiercely. "No. No! I can't. I won't." She turned and followed in Agent Venom example with the rest of squirrels scampering at her heels.

Nova watched her leave, before turning back to Dagger and Powerman with a new fierceness. "She has a point," he bit, "The attack may have been centered around Spidey, but it affected us all. Besides, Spidey's quirks are different this time. It's not just staying up at night because of night terrors - which, he was still doing, by the way - but he's edgy. I was walking behind him before-" he faltered, just slightly. "before all this happened, and he freaked. He attacked me without even realizing it. He...he looked scared..."

Powerman's face lost its hardness. "When did that happen?"

"Sometime after the attack," Nova said. "I told you guys I was going to try and cheer him up, so I was gonna ask if maybe he wanted to do something, like gather the team for a movie. I didn't think I was being quiet, but when I touched his shoulder he turned around and had me pinned in seconds. And it wasn't in a way that was startled, no - he was terrified. I could feel him shaking, Luke. Maybe Spidey was trying to forgive Scarlet, but we all know he wasn't ready to completely trust him. He didn't even let Scarlet in a room without someone there to watch him!"

Scarlet glanced back up at that. "What?... What are you talking about?"

Nova turned to him coldly, "Meaning, whenever Spidey had to leave the room, he'd signal one of us to keep watch over you. Did you honestly expect us, him, to just leave you alone like that."

The atmosphere increased on Scarlet and his shoulders fell, hands dangling at his sides. "No," he answered. "I didn't."

Nova gestured erratically and moved in front of Scarlet. "See! You even admit it."

White Tiger pulled Nova back, but he wrenched his arm away and stomped a distance between them. Tiger glowered after him, but said, "We're getting off track. Maybe Spider-Man is afraid of Scarlet, maybe Scarlet's trying to be better, but that's not what we need to be focusing on."

"Then what should we be focusing on?" Nova demanded.

"The fact that Peter is out there somewhere, controlled by a symbiote and out of his right mind," Ava growled and everybody in the room became statues again, as if just saying it was enough to cast the mortar back over their bodies. "Scarlet, Otto, us, none of that matters when he is out there hurt, afraid, and a threat. We can figure out Scarlet and what he did when we get Peter back, but until then we have to trust each other."

Nova shook his head stubbornly, "I trust you, Tiger," he said. "I trust Iron Fist, and Powerman, and Dagger, and Triton, and the whole team - even Agent Venom. But," he jabbed a finger at Scarlet. "I can't trust him. Now yet. Not right now. I can work with all of you, I'll do it without complaining if it means getting Spidey back, but I will NOT trust him." He looked her in the eyes, resolute in his standing, then called upon the Nova Force and flew out of the room.

It was silent in his absence for a good 5 minutes, then Iron Spider got up to follow.

"Amadeus, not you too," Miles said.

Iron Spider stopped with a sigh. "I've been through a lot since becoming a hero, and I've learned a lot too," he told them, "and if there is one thing Spider-Man taught me, it was to have trust and faith in my team over numbers and computers. I did trust Scarlet, he was a factor full of-of emotions and irregularities, but I trusted him. Then there was the betrayal and emotions and," he turned, voice strained. "Emotions hurt, okay. They hurt a lot more than - than I anticipated, and they can break even the toughest people. Spider-Man," his voice cracked. "Spider-Man got hurt. I...I got hurt, and I don't want to feel that again. Numbers haven't failed me before, and my calculations say its too early to start trusting Scarlet again...I'm sorry Miles…."

Miles didn't stop him from leaving. As soon as the door shut, Dagger turned to look at their remaining numbers. "Anyone else?"

It was quiet, then Kazar and Zabu got up. "Sorry," he said, to White Tiger, Miles, Dagger, Cloak, and Iron Fist. "But if we are to survive together in this jungle, then we cannot stab one another in the back. How can we be a pack, when one of us has tasted the blood of our brother. Come along Zabu." Zabu turned his bright, intelligent eyes to Scarlet, then at KaZar. The big cat paused, then stalked forward and sat at White Tigers feet.

"Zabu?" KaZar stared at him, hurt. The big cat blinked at him, then growled softly in his chest and settled more firmly by Tiger. KaZar straightened, trying not to let it show how much that hurt. "Very well, brother. You're mind and heart is your own." Zabu whined when KaZar left but stayed where he was, and Tiger gave him a comforting caress on the head.

Dagger turned to Triton, "And what are your thoughts?"

Triton glanced at the door, then at Scarlet. "My thoughts," he said softly, "is that we all make mistakes. Trust is a fragile thing; the Inhumans know that more than anything. My uncle himself, Maximus, has betrayed our family more times than I can count, but I know that if he were to ever try and make a change, the Royal Family would be there for him if it was clear his intentions were honest."

"And my intentions," Scarlet asked. "What do you think of them?"

Tilting his head in thought, Triton hummed. "I think you are trying, Scarlet. I think you're trying to win back our trust and become a part of this team again, and I think you'll do everything in your power to bring Spidder-Man back. But do know, I understand their scrutiny," he nodded toward the door where the other teens had left, "I've felt it when I first joined the Academy. But I think, like I did to them and they to me, we can all learn to trust each other again."

Scarlet's shoulders sagged, but this time it for relief. "Thank you."

"But," Triton added, "you must tread carefully. I don't blame them for being wary of you and your intentions, besides, these are most trying times. We're all on the brink of collapsing, especially after what we saw happened to Spidder-Man," he too looked down, swallowing hard in morbid silence for the first person to accept him. Sure Spider-Man had been wary of him at first too, but they had learned to trust one another despite that. Watching Spider-Man undergo that pain was like watching a family member get hurt. But Triton shook his head and stepped over the block in his throat. "You just need to tread carefully. They have been hurt, so they'll be watching. Even we," he gestured to their remaining members. "will be watching. So, show us that our trust isn't falsely put."

Scarlet had his arms over his chest and was staring at the floor again. His fingers clenched and unclenched nervously before he came to a decision and his shoulders straightened, and he met their eyes.

"Your trust won't be falsely put, I promise. We're going to find Spider-Man and bring him back home, and then I'll work on gaining their trust back."

Triton smiled. "Sounds like a plan."


Norman managed to stay in his seat for 5 minutes before it was too much and he shot up, and began pacing along the perimeter of the office.

"No, no, no, no, no," he raked a hand through his hair, over his face, and across his eyes. "No, no, no, NO!" he shouted, and grabbed the back of his chair and flung it across the room. When that didn't satisfy his aggressive desire, he kicked the side of his desk and swept his hands over the top which sent papers free-falling across the floor.

How could everything be so messed up? How could Hydra be so messed up? It was bringing back horrible memories that he didn't want to delve in.

Everywhere he looked, Norman saw Peters face, livid with fear and pain, and somewhere deep in his body, in the space where the Goblin used to reside, Norman knew that monster was laughing. It was what the Goblin had wanted, after all. Spider-Man, weak and broken; pushed beyond his physical and mental limits. Everything the Goblin dreamed of was coming true.

"Peter, I..." Norman swallowed, but his saliva dried in his throat. He thought they would've got there in time. How often did Spider-Man pull his last-minute rescues? How many times has he broken the glass just in the nick of time to save the Osborns? This had been Norman's chance to repay Spider-Man for all those times; this had been his chance of retribution to Peter and Harry, and he failed them both.

Peter Parker wasn't safe because Norman couldn't get there in time. If he had gotten that footage sooner, then things would be different, but because of Norman's doubts Peter Parker was in as much torment as before and stuck in a body made up of monsters. The hole in Norman's chest was growing out by the minute, yawning wider and wider till he was becoming nothing but a black hole. Everything that came close was sucked in and destroyed because he was too dangerous to be around. Norman folded his arms over his chest as if to keep himself from spilling out on the floor.

He felt as though he just lost a...a son.

Norman straightened, terrified by the thought. Did he really think of Peter as a son? A part of him wanted to deny it because HARRY was his son and the only one he needed. Peter...Peter was a family friend. Just a family friend. He was Harry's best friend and a bright mind Norman planned on bringing into Oscorp one day, and yet, another part of him wasn't so convinced. Watching Peter get swallowed by those symbiotes, seeing the panic and terror in his face, it was like watching Harry being taken all over again. It was painful enough watching Harry become Venom and Anti-Venom, but at least Spider-Man had been there to get him out of it.

So who was supposed to save Spider-Man?

"I'm...I'm sorry Peter," Norman choked. "I tried. I did...but..but I wasn't fast enough..."

The Goblin settled a hand on Norman's shoulder, reared back his head, and laughed.


Whirr.

Whirr.

Click.

Click.

Harry stumbled out of the armor, flinging away pieces that didn't retract fast enough, and even then, he kicked them away just to ensure his safety. When he was free from the Patrioteer, he walked back, putting as much distance between him and the metal suit.

"Peter," he sobbed, "Peter, Oh my g -...Peter…." All he could do was repeat the name, chant it in his head and hope that its owner would apparate in front of him, safe and sound. Harry felt as if every nightmare he's ever had was coming to life; the terrors that kept him up at night had been made real. Venom was back, and Anti-Venom, even Carnage, and worse yet, they had Peter.

His best friend was trapped in that body, his best friend was hurt, scared, and at the mercy of - not just one - but THREE symbiotes. It was...it was...

Harry clutched his head and his chest began aching from the speedy breathes his lungs couldn't retain. He couldn't swallow past the clamped muscles of his throat, which only snared his sob and made him choke.

"Not Peter," he cried, bungling toward the bed on weak legs. "Please, not you too." He tittered sideways, barely keeping himself upright with the bedpost. "Please, no." Peter didn't deserve that. "No." He was supposed to be okay. "No!" They were supposed to save him. "NO!" So why wasn't he saved?!

With a furious scream, Harry punched the wall next to him, putting all his strength into it. When the wall didn't dent or mark under his anger, instead only earning a raw sting in his knuckles, the anger swarmed over him, prickling over skin like heated needles, and he punched it again and again and again, barely aware that the screams he was hearing were his own.

"NOT PETER! THEY CAN'T TAKE HIM FROM ME TOO! THEY CAN'T TAKE HIM!"

Almost instantly, his door burst open and the few guards stationed outside rushed in, guns cocked and aiming for a threat. Instead, they found Harry's tear-stricken face as he fell against the wall, glaring at them.

"Mr. Osborn, is everything alright?" One asked, still wearily holding her gun as she scanned the perimeter cautiously.

Harry turned on them, vision blurring with tears. "Get out!" he screamed. "Get out!"

The guards paused, shifting uneasily. "But, Mr. Osborn -"

"I said GET OUT!" he lurched forward, shoving them toward the door. Unsure of the circumstance, the guards hesitantly allowed themselves to be manhandled out of the room before Harry slammed the door. Face flushed, he snapped the locks on the door shut, then stared at them with heavy, heaving breaths, finally feeling his rage-rush begin to ebb. He continued staring until...

With a sob, he collapsed against the door, slid down, and buried his face in his hands.

This wasn't supposed to happen. His dad said they would find him, Norman promised that they'd get Peter back. But where was he? Trapped and forced under the will of three symbiotes who were going to do who-knows-what.

Harry's felt the power of Venom, he's felt the vigor of Anti-Venom, and seen the violence of Carnage. How was Peter supposed to fight that? How were they supposed to save him before the symbiotes got to him first? All they did was corrupt, and infect, and they were going to kill Peter from the inside out, just as they did to Harry. How could Peter be Spider-Man when he was as broken as his best friend.

Harry whispered his best friend's name on weak lips, feeling the last of his raw outburst pop and seep through the soles of his feet. Now, everything just felt hollow...and cold. It was the familiar, empty shell of lost, and it was becoming a part of him bit by bit. He yearned for the younger days when it had just been him, Peter and MJ at lunch, talking about grades and movies, when his biggest concern was failing Biology. But look how far they've strayed from the path of normal. Harry had liked that path, it didn't hurt so much.

The doorknob rattled above and Norman's strained and worried voice seeped through the door. "Harry? What's going? Are you okay? Harry? Open this door? You hear me, open this door right now?"

Harry stayed where he was, blinking past the lingering tears. He listened to his dad's heavy-worn worry for a minute longer, before sniffing and heaving himself to his feet, numbly unlocking the door. As soon as the last lock clicked, the floor was swinging open and Harry felt his dad's arms around him.

"Harry - Harry what happened? What's the matter? Why did you - wha - why are you crying?"

Instead of meeting his dad's eyes, Harry stared at the lush carpet, only vaguely aware of the stinging pain in his knuckles, where the skin was torn and bleeding from his vengeance on the wall.

"Harry," Norman's voice softened, "please talk to me." he tried to look into his son's eyes but was rejected when Harry turned away. Perplexed, Norman glanced around the room, instantly spotting the open armor, where, inside, the last video was over, stuck on the gruesome image of death. He noticed the miniscule scrapes on the wall, and the pieces fell into place

"Did you...did you see the videos?"

Click. Harry burst again. The sob sounded broken even to his own ears. Instantly, Norman's arms were around him again, and Harry sagged into them, burying his face into the silk jacket with a choked whine. He clung to it as if his life source was woven into the very strands of the cloth. He didn't say anything, nor did he need to. Norman understood and whispered words that Harry didn't hear as fingers ran a soothing pattern through his hair. Past the heart-pounding pain in his chest, Harry caught just a few snippets.

"I know, I know-"

" - Peter was -"

" - be okay -"

"We're going to fix this -"

Eventually, Harry's sobbing died down until he was an exhausted sack of limbs. Norman helped him to the bed, watching sadly as Harry pulled away and curled into the blanket.

"Harry," Norman tried, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed. "If there's anything I can-"

"Find Peter," Harry said, staring at the wall. "That's all we can do."

Norman paused, then nodded and got up. "I'll do everything I can, son, I promise."

Yeah, just like the last time, Harry thought bitterly. The door closed behind him, but he waited until Norman's conversation with the guards was over, before he turned over in his sheet and reaching toward his nightstand. His phone lit up and he instantly found his contacts, and after a few seconds of scrolling, he pressed it to his ear.

He sniffed as it rung, but felt a cool tingle of relief when someone picked up.

"Harry? What's up?"

"MJ, I need you to head over here, right now."

"What? Why? What's going on Har- wait...are you...are crying?"

"MJ, please. It's about Peter."


He shut the screen of his laptop and sagged down into the plush cushion with a heavy sigh, kneading his forehead forlornly The warmth of the fire in the hearth was enough to keep his body warm, but inside it was beginning to freeze just as much as the piling snow outside.

The door to his room opened silently and she stepped in. He wasn't surprised, she's probably been waiting for him to finish watching the videos. But she didn't approach, and instead leaned casually against the wall. He knew what she was waiting for.

"It was the symbiotes." he sighed. "The symbiotes won."

She grimaced as if he had just socked her in the gut. "I never wanted that,"

"I know," he said. "I know. But I guess the numbers weren't pulling in our favor."

"There was a 56% chance he would've been found and a 44% that the symbiotes would win. Sometimes the least likely odds do pull through."

"Yeah," he chuckled wryly, which was a sign of just how unhappy he was. "Spider-Man has always been an unlikely odd. What's new?"

She didn't answer his question, but tilted her head to the side inquiringly. "So, what's the plan then, Director?"

Nick Fury rubbed his chin, staring off into the woven tapestries in his room, shifting on the mat he was sitting on. He turned up to stare at her glossy red goggles, and said, "I think you know what I'm going to say?"

She stared back with equal intensity. "Humor me. The numbers haven't been in our favor lately, remember."

Fury picked up the gun next to him, checked the clip inside, and cocked it. "It's time we headed back to SHIELD. I need to get Peter Parker back."

Madam Web grinned, "There was a 96.7% chance that you were going to say that."

Hey guys, so this chapter did come out a bit later - but at least it's out, so I think we're good. First things first, this is dedicated to Sukaretto_, Happy (late) Birthday!

Second, I was thinking about commissioning my work. As some of you may know, I draw a lot, and write, and money has been getting tight lately so I might just start doing commissions to ease financial troubles. I'm still working out the details, but if anyone has any questions or advice on commision, just PM or visit my tumblr: ultimatespidermanfeels

Also, there is a small piece of original work I have been working on that I'm going to post soon, so if you want to see some of the original ideas in this head, look out for that.

Anyway, hope you guys liked - emotional pain and team divisions are always fun to write - I'll be continuing some work on the other, neglected stories I have, so look out for some of those updates too.

Peace out Chilladas!