As soon as the ferry came within slinging distance of the shore, Peter grabbed Katya- they'd found each other on the top deck- and swung them off, slinging between a few more telephone poles to get them to the rooftop Tony had identified earlier. They were there on time, but it still took Tony another fifteen or so before he could join them.

"Previously on 'How to Screw The Pooch', I tell you two to stay away from this but instead you hack a half a million dollar suit so you can sneak behind my back doing the one thing I told you not to do."

Peter was glaring at the water beneath them like it had done him a personal wrong. He swallowed. "Is everyone okay?"

"No thanks to you." Came Tony's curt response. Katya, who'd been sitting next to Peter, legs dangling over the side as well, turned around, bringing one of her legs in with her, to glare at Tony. Was he serious? If Peter hadn't been there to at least do the initial patching that ferry would've been under in ten minutes, and every single passenger would've met a fiery or watery (or both!) death.

"No thanks to me?" Peter leapt down from the edge of the roof entirely, rounding on Tony. "Those weapons are out there and I tried to tell you about it but you didn't listen." Katya had never heard Peter so angry. "None of this would have happened if you'd just listened to me!" Peter's voice cracked, and he wrung his mask between his hands. He let out a mirthless laugh, his eyes rimmed red. "If you even cared you'd actually be here."

The Iron Suit opened up immediately and Tony stepped out, dressed as impeccably as ever, anger clear across his face. "I did listen, kid." For each step he took towards Peter, Peter back tracked. "Who do you think called the FBI, huh?

Peter swallowed, but said nothing.

"Did you know I was the only one who believed in you? Everyone else thought I was crazy to recruit a fourteen year old kid-"

"-I'm fifteen-"

"NO, this is where you zip it" Tony's voice rose in anger "The adult is talking! What if someone had died tonight, hm? That would've been a different story, and that would have been on you. The both of you. And if one of you dies, I feel like that's on me. And I don't need that on my conscience. And you!" He rounded on Katya specifically, who stood up immediately, her position on the lip of the rooftop putting her at eye level with him. She met his gaze with a fiery glare of her own, though she didn't speak.

"Do you understand how many strings Natasha had to pull to get you here? How hard it was for her sister to get you to her in the first place? Natasha's currently a wanted criminal and she put her life at risk to set you up living with me until she gets back. Everything you touch dies, I can't let you just run wild like this- " Mr. Stark's own rage cut himself off, and he turned away, forehead in hand, seemingly trying to formulate the rest of a sentence. After a beat, he turned back to Peter.

"This isn't working out, that's it. Give me the suit."

Peter froze.. "What?"

"The suit. I'm gonna need it back."

"For how long?"

"Forever."

"No! No- Mr. Stark, please, I"m nothing without this suit-" His voice was beginning to waver, clearly on the verge of tears.

"If you're nothing without the suit then you don't deserve the suit." Mr. Stark grimaced. "God, I sound like my father."

Peter glanced at Katya, his eyes holding so much- tears, mainly, but the guilt, the hopelessness-

She nodded, assuring him that she felt it, too. She dropped down from the lip of the rooftop so she was standing level with the rest of them.

Peter swallowed. "I- I don't have any other clothes."

"Okay, we'll sort that out." Tony said, almost before Peter'd even finished speaking. He turned away before either Peter or Katya could respond, and stepped back into the Iron Suit.

—- —-

"Everything you touch dies."

Tony'd managed to scrounge up some terrible tourist wear for Peter to change into once they'd reached Avenger's Tower- Katya was beginning to think that was maybe part of the punishment- and Peter'd reluctantly given Tony back the suit, which he stored in a chrome briefcase and had locked away somewhere. Katya was barely aware of her surroundings the entire time though, only enough to make sure she wasn't bumping into things and to give Peter's hand, which had apparently been in her own for a long time, the occasional reassuring squeeze as it all played out. Watching Peter's face as the suit was folded into the briefcase was like watching someone bury a loved one.

And now there was someone, somewhere, who couldn't even do that now, because of her.

Up on the top deck, whilst Peter'd been trying to web the ferry back together, The Winged Man's crew had gathered, three of them, and immediately rounded on her. She'd tossed one of them overboard, no problem, but the other had come when her back was turned and between the chaos and worrying if Peter was okay and the precarious footing they were all fighting on and the sudden rage that had filled her chest when she realized that here was yet another man trying to make a decision for her, instinct took over, and she'd flipped him over her shoulder easily, facedown to the trembling ground, and stomped on the base of his skull, severing his brain stem.

The last one, the one with the taser gauntlet, got away, but she'd barely registered it. She barely registered what she'd done until the boat had stabilized with Tony's help.

Panicking, she'd lugged the body to the edge and tossed it overboard, too- who's to say he didn't just fall in the water at the most unfortunate angle and die that way? There was no evidence, no way it could be traced back to her or Peter. There hadn't been weapons, or even really a fight. It'd taken two- three if you counted her turning around- movements to end his life. And she'd thought nothing of it at the time.

Everything you touch dies.

Because that's who she was. That's what she'd been built to be. She was never meant to have a family, or friends, or hobbies- she was never meant to learn about American History or have a whole period just called "Art Class', she was never meant to go to parties or have a cellphone, much less friends on the other end she could text with. Sure, she'd been freed chemically, and she could think clearer now in that she was even aware she had a thought process, but when push came to shove she reverted back to what she knew and what she knew was that she was a murderer. A painstakingly curated living weapon who wasn't designed to contribute to anything in a positive manner.

She'd hugged Peter when he left, and they'd even had a conversation about how he was going to deal with his Aunt when he got home, but Katya couldn't remember a thing about it, just that the voice in her head kept screaming liar, liar, liar. The whole reason she'd agreed to help him was because there was strictly no killing involved, and now she had, she'd gone and ruined it, and he didn't even know.

She'd felt sick enough to throw up, which she did upstairs in her bathroom immediately upon his departure, and was now holed up in her room avoiding so much as looking Tony in the face since their conversation on the roof. Her eyes stung, hot and wet, and she didn't know why. She had to at least tell Peter what had happened- maybe then it'd stop eating her from the inside. Or at least, slow it down a bit.

She didn't know what to do with herself, or what all these emotions were, and the only person in the Tower to ask would be Tony and fuck that idea right out the window.

She wished she could speak to Natasha, or Yelena. They'd know what to do. But Natasha was off-grid for her own safety and Yelena was off somewhere helping all the other Widows like herself get their lives back. She missed the brief time they'd spent together, but it was important work. If it hadn't been for Yelena, Katya wouldn't even be here.

She had to get out of this room, out of this tower, at least for a little while.