8
Peter rolled to his feet.
His head was ringing with the impact, but he quickly stumbled up to a vertical position again. Shaking his head, he looked up.
Silenzior had landed a few feet away from him, and he too was getting back to his feet.
"Nope!" Peter said, accidentally aloud, as he raised his hands and shot two webs.
The webs caught Silenzior's hands and pinned him backwards to the wall.
Peter puffed a relieved breath out his cheeks. Straightening up, he started walking towards Silenzior.
He threw his hands up in a "what the heck" kind of pose. "What are you trying to do, anyway?" he asked.
Silenzior had angled his head down towards the floor. Peter bobbed down into a crouch in front of Silenzior. His head tilted to one side as he narrowed his eyes, trying to see into Silenzior's eyes.
He couldn't see anything; either there was some kind of a mesh screen inside the guy's mask, or he was closing his eyes. Peter secretly hoped it was the latter, because it was a lot funnier.
"Cool powers," he said. "How are you doing it?" He watched Silenzior, hoping for a response. When none came, he continued anyway.
"You really don't like talking much, do you? Huh. Makes sense."
Shaking his head, Peter got back up to his feet and took a step back. "I gotta call Agent Hill."
Finally, Silenzior spoke. "It's the noise."
Peter paused, his hand halfway to his earpiece. He turned around, his hand lowering. "What?"
Silenzior's head was still angled towards the floor, but he continued in the gentle, low tone that Peter had grown used to.
"Our world's brought a lot of attention to itself, Spider-Man," he said. "Ever since Tony Stark began parading himself around in that suit, the threats to Earth have grown. Alien attacks. Intergalactic visitors." Silenzior looked up, and Peter had to look into those weird deep eye sockets again. "You and your Avengers have made a lot of noise."
Peter stayed silent, listening.
"I'm just putting out the fire while I still can."
Peter shook his head, closing his eyes as he tried to understand this guy. "Why now?"
Silenzior's head shifted to look at something behind Peter, then angled back. "Because the world changed while our heroes were away," Silenzior said. "It's time you caught up."
Peter's eyes widened.
Behind you!
He spun around, just in time to catch the fist headed straight for his head, and came face-to-face with Jason King.
"Wait, you?" he asked as he grappled with the man's fist.
"In the flesh," King said back. "Been a while, right?" He shook off Peter's grip and took a step back.
Peter took a step back too, feeling his head spin. King looked about the same as what Peter remembered from their first encounter – a shadow of a beard, icy blue eyes, close-cut hair. The scar running along his jaw.
King head tilted to one side, mocking. "You look surprised. Didn't SHIELD tell you?"
Peter cleared his throat. "I thought – SHIELD said you guys were –"
"What, in prison?" King finished. He chuckled darkly. "Goes to show you. What SHIELD doesn't want you to know, you won't know."
Yeah, I guess so. Peter didn't say anything, his mind racing.
King paused. "Guess they didn't tell you about everybody else, then, too, huh?"
Peter blinked. "Everybody else?" he repeated.
"Thing is, we're on a timetable, Parker," King said, his voice level and calm. "And you're slowing us down."
Hearing noise behind him, Peter spun around, and his eyes widened. A whole mass of other agents – HEL agents, he supposed – flooded into the platform and closed over Peter like a wave. "Whoa –!" He was enveloped into the mob within seconds, and he had to get his bearings quickly as they began attacking him.
Through the mass of bodies, Peter caught a glimpse of King – he was kneeling down to free Silenzior's hands.
"No!" Peter shot a web up at the ceiling to pull himself up and out of the mob. As he sprang upward, however, one of the men caught him by the foot in an iron grip.
Peter's body jerked two separate ways for a second, like a puppet caught against its own strings, and the muscles in his arm wrenched against the shift in momentum. With a yelp, he lost his grip on the web and fell back down to the floor.
The men closed over him again. Letting out an aggravated grunt, Peter scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could and kept fighting them off.
"Peter?" Agent Hill's voice suddenly sounded in his ear. "Peter, do you cc-ppp-kchh- ssss–"
"Agent Hill!" Peter said aloud. He ducked out of the way of another punch. "Agent Hill, hey, hello?" But her com had dissolved into staticky garble. Something was interrupting the feed.
Growling in annoyance, Peter kept fighting against the agents. They were strong, and there were a lot of them – Peter counted at least ten, but it was kind of hard to keep track when ducking and swerving out of the way.
"Behind you, Parker."
Peter spun around at the sound of King's voice. He saw King pull one arm back, his hand forming a fist. It was an obvious punch, and Peter caught it easily, a little surprised.
Suddenly, though, he felt King's closed fist open up beneath his grip. King's fingers wrapped around Peter's wrist and pulled it down sharply.
He clicked something over Peter's wrist, like a handcuff, and it latched into place. "Sorry, kid."
Peter quickly stepped backwards, startled more than anything else. He looked down at the thing King had just fitted him with.
It was a slim metal band, no thicker than Peter's pinkie finger. As he looked at it, the band illuminated in blue, and the metal seemed to come alive as it swiveled tighter around his wrist.
All at once, electricity shot over Peter's skin. "Aaaughckk –" he spluttered. His back arched as his body locked up, and he half-stumbled, half-slid down to the floor, twitching. It was like the electricity from a taser. Not that he'd ever been actually tased, but he imagined it was a lot like this.
"Alright, we've done our part," he could hear King say. "Let's get out of here before the smog settles."
"What about him?" one of the other men asked, and Peter knew he was talking about him.
There was a pause. "Not the mission," King said.
Peter heard their footsteps start to lead away, and he gritted his teeth in frustration.
They're – getting – away.
Still twitching, he managed to roll over to one side. Summoning all his strength, he smashed the wristlet against the floor. It pinged harmlessly against the polished tile, and he gritted his teeth and tried again, raising his hand up higher and bringing it down with more force this time.
This time, the band sparked, disengaging the electricity.
Peter gasped as the shocks stopped. Shakily, he flipped himself over and stumbled unsteadily to his feet.
"Peter?" Agent Hill's voice came into his earpiece again, this time a lot clearer. "Report. Can you hear me? What's your status?"
"Agent Hill," Peter said back. His voice felt sticky. "I'm – uh –" He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to think. "They got away, but –"
"Peter. Do you have eyes on Silenzior?"
Silenzior. The words sent realization crashing through Peter's head. He twisted left and right, scanning the platform. "I – what? He was just here –"
His attention was pulled in the opposite direction by screams.
"He's gonna jump!"
"Don't do it!"
Still dizzy, he spun around, trying to see what the commotion was about. Following the gaze of the rest of the crowd, his eyes raised to the ceiling.
Silenzior had made it up to the ceiling struts again. Peter had been too preoccupied to notice.
His mouth opened. "Oh, my God."
It was worse than everybody thought. If Silenzior dropped –
He broke off the thought. He had to get up there. Straightening up, he went to shoot a web at the ceiling, but he was too late.
Silenzior took a step forward and dropped. Black smoke trailed from both hands like the tail of a comet.
He hit the floor, and the building thrummed. Thick black smoke erupted from the floor, like the fallout of an exploded bomb. As Peter watched, it started spreading, faster and faster.
Screams rose in a wave as people saw the smoke coming. Masses of people started running to the edges of the terminal bay, trying to outrun it, but the black smoke was spreading fast, spilling into every corner.
"No!"
The only thing Peter could do at this point was avoid the smoke. He moved backward and pressed himself against the far wall of the airport, raising both his arms to shield his face.
He could hear the screams turning into coughs as people inhaled the smoke.
Then, slowly, the coughs stopped.
Realization sunk through Peter like molten metal. Looking up from his hands, he realized the smoke had dissipated. He ran to the edge of the platform and looked down, feeling loose and shaky. "Oh my God." His hands dragged over the top of his head. "Oh, no."
As the smoke dissipated into the air, Peter could see the people it left behind more clearly.
They all had black X's over their throats, and though their mouths were moving, no sound was coming out.
Oh, no.
Silence settled over the airport.
.
.
