alright friends, maybe one or two more chapters until I wrap this sucker up for good! I dislike loose ends and will certainly finish this fic, never fear Deadpool and the Avengers will also make a final appearance. the upcoming chapter will most likely feature Ned & MJ. enjoy my lovelies. please R&R!
Peter could distinctly hear metal on metal clashing below the vent as he pulled himself through a tight corner. What on earth has my life become? Ergh, I hope I don't actually get stuck. I still need to get to an exit. He wiggled and wormed his way up the cramped vent space.
It had certainly been a perplexing past 24 hours. Spiderman went from friendly neighborhood hero, to fugitive attacked by SHIELD, and now a mercenary target?
It was a lot to process.
Nevertheless, the vigilante continued to semi-navigate an army crawl through the shadowy, chilled vent passages. He passed various metal grates, each revealing artificial light streaming in from each peculiar room in the tower. A damn map would be useful. Peter huffed in frustration at the ridiculousness of the situation. He was in a freaking air vent, on his birthday, hiding from the Avengers—of all people!
The sound of commotion were no longer audible from his location. Peter was left with tense silence and his shaky, labored pants. His palms were sweaty with exertion and fingers jittery with apprehension. Since the moment he woke up from his nightmare that morning, his spider-senses had pestered him nonstop. The vigilante finally had a wisp relief as he took a minute to assuage his fanatically pounding heart and frayed nerves.
Deciding he was far enough away from the general commotion, Peter delicately opened a metal grate and eased himself out of the vent system. Landing nimbly on the white marble floor, the Spider let his gaze scan for trouble. His spider-senses remained at a low hum but noted no sensible danger.
The room Spiderman descended into was lavishly decorated with velvet pillows, random Greek marble sculptures, and opulent gold finishes around the ceiling crests. The living area led out to an overviewing balcony. Bingo. Peter thought excitedly at the concept of freedom once again.
Freedom from the claustrophobic interrogation room. Freedom from the judgmental stares from the Avengers. Freedom from the sickly-sweet memories of finally meeting his heroes in person. The red and blue figure shuddered at the choking thought.
Spiderman scanned the open concept area, and in haste jogged towards the glass door. He gave it an experimental tug. Peter frowned in dismay; it was locked. A gentle, yet ominous, voice broke the frenzy of Peter's swirling thoughts.
"Spiderman, Emergency Protocol has been initiated. Please remain at your location for further instructions."
"Who said that?" Whipping around at the sound, Peter let his eyes flitter around the room but didn't see a soul.
"I am JARVIS. Mr. Stark's personal AI. Please remain at your current location until further directions."
"Yeah, that's a no JARVIS," Peter replied cautiously. "I've been here long enough…" he mumbled to himself as he shifted in his suit. Peter could not wait to get out of his itchy, ripped, sweat dried suit. He wanted to go home. Home.
The vigilante let a tiny smile grace his lips at the concept. I guess since I'm finally 18, the apartment is now officially in my name. He reminisced fondly at the kindness he felt from his Uncle Ben and Aunt May. He was going home. He would finally be able to change the locks to his apartment and get away from his toxic, borderline abusive relatives.
The Spider scanned the room for any other window openings—nothing, zilch, nada. The glass panels reached from floor to ceiling with no visible grip for opening. Door it is then. Spiderman held the knob and twisted the metal off the door frame. This allowed him to shoulder his way through the door frame. He was beyond ecstatic to feel the warm air embracing his suit.
Ever since his spidery change a few years ago, Peter had always struggled to keep warm. Thermoregulation was a challenge even in the dead of summer.
Not wasting another moment, Spiderman hustled to the balcony edge. It would be tricky to swing with one working web-shooter, but he'd done it before. I'm just on top of one of the tallest buildings in New York, no biggie. Peter swallowed apprehensively at the thought of flinging himself at this height. Wind gusted around his torso as he felt his adrenaline kick into full gear once again. The red and blue figure stilled near the edge as he mentally prepared himself.
He was usually closer to the ground, in most normal circumstances. Whelp, here goes nothing. He began to ascend over the railing, briefly calculating where to stick his web on the building next over when the vigilante heard a shout.
"SPIDERMAN WAIT!"
Peter swiveled his head in unease at the unsuspecting yell. Dr. Banner appeared through the broken doorframe shaking his head in exasperation at seeing the Spider prepped to fling himself off the building. The scientist was panting as he placed his hands in the air in a supposedly placating stance.
Spiderman bristled in anger at the gesture. He wasn't some sort of wild animal.
"Don't come any closer Dr. Banner, I'm not in the mood to play games." Spiderman retorted sourly. In all honesty, he was upset Dr. Banner had a hand in his situation at all.
"I'm not playing a game Spiderman." The man warily lowered his hands but didn't move any closer to the taut vigilante.
Now catching his breath, the scientist continued in a sorrowful tone. "I'd like to apologize for the recent actions of the Avengers." Spiderman remained poised to launch his web-shoter but listened, nonetheless.
"You mean my forced, unlawful detainment?" Peter fumed at the unjust use of fear tactics and the team advantage. Dr. Banner winced slightly at his phrasing, although not deny their underlying current of truth.
He proceeded in a quiet soft tone. "We were wrong to presume the worst of your intentions. Admittedly, our information in regard to your identity was limited to online articles, photographs and videos, not all of which portrayed your actions in a favorable light."
"You're one to talk." Peter rebutted in a caustic manner.
Spiderman pushed forth with unraveling bitter thought, "Plus, it's not like fighting aliens don't have a side of casualties. But that's not important is it? What's important is the scrutiny and hypocrisy the Avengers find in my actions."
"Listen kid, I-"
"I'm not a kid." Peter was finished with this particular conversation.
He was done feeling attacked and devalued in his actions. Peter turned away from the Dr. Banner with the intent to swing off the balcony when the scientist hastily continued. The vigilante didn't turn around but remained on the balcony edge.
"Spiderman, with the Accords in place, your vigilantism does not come without consequences. SHIELD requests that you train with the Avengers for the safety of the city's citizens. We want to help you fight crime within the law, not against it. You have one week to return to the Avenger's Tower for a briefing on regulations created for genetically enhanced individuals and advanced training. If you don't, SHIELD will take matters into their own hands. And trust me, you don't want that."
Peter inhaled sharply at the onslaught of words.
He understood the warning loud and clear. Play by our rules or you can't play with us and we'll make sure of it. To be honest, he didn't know as much about the Sokovia Accords regulations as he'd like. Spiderman certainly didn't want to make an enemy out of the Avengers. Unfortunately, in consideration of the last few hours, they were already off to a rough start.
"I understand." Spiderman replied dryly.
Peter had plenty more words for the scientist—The Avengers as a collective—as he recalled his unprovoked attack and basically borderline kidnapping, but kept his response brief. His spider-senses started to flitter up the base of his skull. The vigilante presumed more Avengers were making their way up the Tower, nearing their current location. Spiderman decided to take the exit while he still could. In the main time, there was a plenty to process and consider in regard to the Avenger's ultimatum.
Without another word, Peter jumped.
The sound of wind rushing past his ears deafened Dr. Banner's next response. Thwip-thuck. A taught web pulled Peter out of his flurry of thoughts as he stuck to the adjacent building. His eyes prickled with pent up frustration. Spiderman breathed in deeply the sights and sounds of the city he loved so dearly.
Thwip-thuck. Peter intentionally swerved and cross crossed around the maze of buildings, attempting distance and confusion if he were to be followed by the Avengers.
Glancing down Peter instantly spotted yellow taxis swerving hundreds of feet underneath him, their pestering honks juxtaposed the quite roofs tops in jarring dissonance. The ubiquitous scent of falafel and freshly made bagels wafted though Spiderman's mask making him salivate at the thought of food.
His stomach certainly agreed to the concept of food—food is always a good idea. Thwip-thuck. Peter sighed dejectedly as he felt a cramp mid-swing. Sometimes, just sometimes, Spiderman wished he didn't possess and advanced metabolism.
His arms and body mechanically knew the way back to his home in Queens. It was kind of like driving back from work—getting from point A to point B without really remembering it. Not that Peter had much experience driving. He lacked an adult figure willing to teach him the skill. Still, YouTube came in clutch—at least I know the basics of driving.
Thwip-thuck. Spiderman swung with more urgency as he saw the time on a building clock tower; it was nearly mid-day. The vigilante finally edged off to the lower buildings near his apartment and made his way to a spare backpack he kept hidden in case of emergencies.
Peter pulled into a dim alleyway where the pack lay hidden. He quietly climbed down the brick wall and landed lightly behind a massive recycling bin. The pack held a change of clothes, gauze, and a few snack bars. Basics am I right? Scanning the area, Peter made quick work of changing from his iconic red and blue spandex into a soft gray hoodie and worn jeans.
Peter grimaced as he sat down on the cold concrete. His body throbbed in complaint as he proceeded to stuff his suit into the bottom of his bag. He ravished the snack bars, making a mental note to replace them later. Leaning his head back against the rough brick wall, Peter relished the quiet alley.
Now in civilian clothes, the teen stood up to make the final journey around the block home. As he stood too quickly, black spots dotted the edges of his vision. Peter gripped the brick wall so he wouldn't pitch forward, waiting for the dizziness to clear. Probably low blood sugar or dehydration—or both. Maybe swinging from downtown with a single working web shooter after a semi-traumatic experience wasn't the best idea.
Taking in a deep breath, he continued around the corner of the alleyway, his apartment now in sight. Peter felt nearly euphoric relief of being so close to his safe space. No one could track him there as Spiderman. He was always very careful to switch out of his suit away from the area. If anything, Peter appeared like a slightly haggled college student struggling to survive in the unforgiving city, it was pretty close to the truth anyhow.
Reaching his front door, spider-senses silent, Peter open his apartment. He was finally home. The 24 hours had been beyond a harrowing, exhausting experience. The adrenaline that kept him swinging since ebbed out of his system, leaving Peter to feel everything in an overabundance.
Walking into his familiar space, the teen knew he needed to change the locks to his door, but at the moment all Peter wanted to do was curl up in a tight ball under his warm covers. Instead, he settled to sticking solid wood chair under and against the door handle—it should prevent any normal humans from entering his apartment. He knew his relatives wouldn't return the keys to his apartment, plus he guessed they probably had made copies anyway.
As an individual, Peter greatly valued his privacy and identity.
While living under the "guardianship" of his relatives, Peter had none of that. No limits, privacy, boundaries, routine, and worst of all—no control. No control to when his relatives would appear, what they would leave with, or how they treated him. Most of the time he was yelled at for being in the way, so he learned to just disappear from his apartment when they decided to snoop around. He'd often sit on the roof of his complex waiting for them to leave with whatever items they sought to pawn off that day.
Becoming Spiderman pushed boundaries further with reporters from news sources and New York policemen always attempting to discover his identity. He finally felt a tad bit safer without having to look over his shoulder in his own apartment. I guess 18 is looking a little better…Peter thought satirically at how he actually remembered his birthday earlier that day. He'd been sitting in a cramped corner floor with Iron Man grilling him while he was still reeling from their attack.
So far Peter had done a fair job of repressing his emotions, all of which now seemed to bubble up from the depths of despair. Each memory fighting for attention, they all wanted a front row seat to the movie showing. Eventually, he would have to process and come to terms with what happened.
Spotting his messy bed, Peter dropped his pack on the floor and sluggishly crawled under his plush navy blanket. His cozy blanket was one of the few comfort items he wasn't ashamed to admit he loved. Peter hummed a sigh of content with the earnest heat enveloping his form and his bruised body sinking into his bed.
Peter tried to let his mind go blank—key word, tried. Despite the lead like energy coating his figure, his mind was a buzz. Emotional shock in comparison to physical shock is a funny thing. One doesn't quite recognize physical shock encompasses rapid shallow breathing, elevated pulse, and lowered blood pressure, and that afterwards, there is the emotional aspect of shock.
Emotional shock comes in various contexts ranging from psychological or physical symptoms, to even cognitive and behavioral. In his most recent AP Psychology course taken during Peter's senior year at Midtown High, he became very interested in the strange subject. Mostly to understand how he could better communicate with the multitude of victims he'd encounter throughout the city. Victims mainly of physical assault, general abuse, and sexual assault.
Peter was fairly certain the numbing fatigue and flashbacks his brain started to loop were due to his ever so enlightening experience with the Avengers. Deciding to go to his last resort, Peter thought of the color white. It was a technique he used to block everything out of his mind, just a calm white surface.
No feelings of anxiousness about the Avengers. No replaying Iron Man burning a physical hole through his suit. No wondering about what could have been if Aunt May was still alive. No reminiscing about his goofy best friend, Ned, or the girl he had a major crush on—MJ—but would never actually admit. Nothing—just the color white.
It was soothing to block out all distractions and overwhelming sensations to memories. Peter felt heavy sleep creeping up, paralyzing his limbs into a deep, dreamless sleep.