Chapter Five: Nobody Wins

Peter felt as if he could feel the Earth rotating on its axis, and his ears were ringing. The man allowed him to get back to his feet, which would have been the perfect time to flee as Karen was begging him to. "Spider-Man doesn't run," He responded to her begging, preparing himself mentally for whatever the mercenary would throw at him. Batroc repeatedly flinched towards Peter, gauging his response and feeling out the young hero.

Peter eventually grew tired of it and shot a web that hit Batroc's wrist. "What the f-" Before the confused man could finish his statement, Peter came forward with a front kick, sending the larger man flying backward into a parked car. Glass shards covered Georges when he hit the ground, and the car's alarm blared behind him. Peter tried to take the fight to him again, jumping forward and leading with his a closed fist.
Batroc slipped it and landed a punch of his own, again on the bridge of Peter's already broken nose. Peter saw stars and yelped, and when his hands came to his face on instinct, Batroc threw a kick into Peter's exposed stomach.

Peter stumbled backward, gripping his stomach and coughing, desperately trying to catch his breath. "Load the guns back up!" Batroc called to his team of men before returning his attention to Peter.

"Peter, please!" Karen again began pleading with him. "You're outmatched. You need to run!" Her usually calm, collected voice sounded panicked. She was right, even if Peter didn't want to admit it. Peter couldn't be matched by any human in terms of brute strength, but he'd never trained. And this man had, and his experience showed with his quick, precise counterstrikes. He'd thought he'd gone toe-to-toe with Captain America, but he realized how easy Cap had gone on him. His shaky legs finally gave out, and he fell to the ground, taking a few deep breaths.

Their eyes locked as the older man paced back and forth, waiting for Peter to get back to his feet. Batroc's gaze sent a chill up his spine. He looked at Peter the way a cat looked at a mouse; prey. This man was a predator, through and through. "That all ya got?" Peter masked the pain and fear, though he still sniffled slightly. Peter knew if he engaged first, Batroc would counter, and he lacked the skill to fight him like that. But if Batroc came after him first, he could stand a chance by using his superior reflexes and strength.

"Big talk for such a little spider." The man remarked, coming forward with a quick combination of punches and kicks. Peter retreated, blocking them before finally tying up one of Batroc's legs with a web. A distraction, but a good one, Peter used the split second to jump backward and pull his feet out from under him. "Okay..." Batroc sounded angry as he pulled the knife from his boot.

Peter formulated silently, his eyes fixed on the six inches of cold steel the man was wielding. Far from the deadliest thing, Peter'd been faced with, but in the hands of this man, he was actually in danger of being cut. He wasn't taking a chance with it, so he shot a web towards the blade, but that's what Batroc wanted unbeknownst to Peter. He released the knife and allowed the web to attach itself to it before lunging forward with a right hook. The punch hit its mark and staggered the teen.
Peter's vision was tunneled, and time seemed to slow as he fell to his back. Karen still pleaded with him but he couldn't quite make out the words. He tried to get back to his feet, but the mercenary pounced on him, pulling him into a chokehold. "He's gonna choke me to death!" Peter thought while struggling to escape the man's grasp. A sudden adrenaline rush hit the battered teen as his survival instinct kicked in.

Peter's hand worked its way to Batroc's face, and he roughly pushed his nose up towards the sky before popping his head free. His hand wrapped around Batroc's neck without realizing he'd done it and threw him off like a rag doll. They both stood, and the angered mercenary threw another hook, which was caught easily by Peter. The two stared into each other's eyes; the soulless white eyes were fixed on him. And in his moment of distraction, Peter punched him, hard, across the face skipping him across the asphalt like a rock on a lake.

"Kill him," A voice from deep inside Peter's angered mind came. "End him, here and now," Peter stopped, staring down at the motionless mercenary. He could have, easily, and that voice in his mind kept telling him to do it. "That's not me.." Peter snapped out of the momentary his will for survival had brought on, his eyes on the man as he began to come back to his senses. Peter extended his arm to web him up for the police, but the alarm in his brain sounded again, and Peter turned to be greeted by an RPG being aimed at him. Reacting quickly, he backflipped out of the rocket's path just as it was fired.

It exploded upon impact with a parked car, creating a fiery explosion that sent shrapnel in every direction. "Let's go, sir!" The men desperately tried to drag Batroc to the van. Peter quickly jumped from his place on the ground to try and stop them but was met with automatic gunfire, which forced him to take cover behind a tree.

Peter cursed himself for allowing Batroc to do so much damage, and now he was pinned down while he made his escape. The van began to pull off, and Peter peaked around the tree and quickly shot a tracker onto the back of the van. The young hero let out a sigh of both relief and slight disappointment. The young hero had never been bested in quite that fashion, and he'd also never thought about killing anyone before.

"You're lucky to be alive," Karen remarked, a small amount of disappointment and irritation in her tone.

"Tell me about." Peter rolled his eyes and pulled himself to his feet. He could hear sirens coming toward him, and he wasn't about to stick around and try to explain this mess.


What had started as just eating lunch with Clint and her surrogate family had turned into a day with the children, and it'd gone well into the evening. And after an hour of begging from the children, she'd agreed to stay the night. Natasha smiled at the thought, but the night with the little family she had made her mind wander to thoughts of her son. The life she'd always wanted but had always been out of her grasp.

"You know there's this wonderful thing called sleep," Laura's sweet voice came, barely louder than the crackle of the flames from the fireplace. "You should try it." Natasha chuckled and shrugged her shoulders, and made room on the couch for her.

"Yeah, but I might miss something if I fall asleep." They didn't speak for a long time; Laura's compassionate, loving gaze on her made her feel like a child. Or at least the way a child would probably have felt when their Mother stared at them. Maybe the way hers would have felt. "Clint told you, didn't he?" Natasha asked, already knowing her friend had told his wife.

Laura shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry." She said.

Natasha sighed lightly. "I figured he was going too. Though, I kinda wanted to tell you myself." Natasha looked toward Laura, and she couldn't help but smile. The woman had welcomed her into her life with open arms and been someone the spy could lean on every step of the way. Being there for her in all the ways that Clint could never be. Laura placed a hand on Natasha's back and circled it gently, calming and comforting.

"I'm proud of you, Nat." Natasha turned to look at her, a confused look on her face.

"For what? I faked my death and abandoned my child." The guilt she felt came out. "You'd die before abandoning yours." Laura sighed and scooted herself closer to her friend.

"I can't say that I wouldn't have done the same thing had I been in your position." Laura didn't know much about Natasha's time in the Red Room. They'd had one wine drunk conversation about it that ended with the spy throwing the empty bottle on the kitchen floor to conceal her pain with anger. It was easier for her than admitting she felt like she was broken.
But she knew they trained her, and they'd used her as an instrument of espionage and a dealer of death. "I'm willing to bet they used your son as leverage." Natasha's silence and her averted gaze told her she was right. "And I'm sure if you'd tried to one, it would have gotten you and your baby killed." Laura's natural motherly instincts always had caused her to grimace at what Natasha had been through. "You made the call you felt was in both of your best interests." Natasha wasn't the most emotional of individuals, but it made her cold heart skip listening to Laura speak so highly of her.

"If I find him," Natasha swallowed the lump in her throat. "I hope I can be half the Mom that you are." A smile played across the older woman's face.

"You're going to be a great Mom." Laura wrapped her arms around Natasha's shoulders. "I know it."


Peter made it back to his apartment and collapsed to the floor upon entering, trying to breathe. The adrenaline from the fight had worn off, and the pain from his injuries was immense. He removed his mask and limped into his tiny bathroom, allowing the sink to support his weight.

His face was a mess of both dry and fresh sticky blood, and deep blue bruises stretched across his face. There was a nice black eye to boot with his broken nose—something he had to reset.
Peter gripped the bridge of his nose and took a few quick breaths before quickly snapping it back straight with an audible Pop! "Ow... Ow..." Peter exhaled a quivering breath, tears of pain dripping onto his cheeks as blood flowed from his nose and onto the porcelain sink.

"Peter!?" Tony Stark's frantic voice called from the front door. Fumbling with a set of keys Aunt May had surely given him. Peter grabbed a towel and met his billionaire mentor in the living room. "Hey, buddy." Stark couldn't think of anything else to say, his eyes looking over the extensive injuries he'd suffered. "Jesus, what did he do to you?" A sudden rush of anger hit him upon seeing Peter's bloodied face, but the feeling was overtaken by worry. Tony was responsible for Peter, whether the teen liked it or not.

"What're you doing here, Mr. Stark?" He questioned, turning and heading back towards his room, trying to play off his pain. "I thought you were in Baltimore with Aunt May?" Tony followed Peter to the bedroom, lit by the boy's desk lamp.

Tony knelt in front of Peter when he sat on his bed. "I was," He paused, pulling the rag from Peter's grip to get a better look at him. "I got a distress signal from your suit's AI. She also said you'd gotten yourself into some deep shit with Georges Batroc and refused to run." He explained, a gentle hand tilting Peter's head back. "Admirable. But stupid, kid." Tony liked Peter's persistence, but there was certainly a line. The line was trained killers.

Damn it. Peter thought silently. "Karen." Peter corrected, though her calling Mr. Stark was a tad irritating, he didn't like her being referred to as his "suit's AI."

"Right." Tony laughed, still finding it adorable that Peter named his AI. "So, how exactly did you run into Georges Batroc?" he asked the obvious question, wiping away some of the blood that was still dripping from Peter's nose.

"Just lucky, I guess." Peter recoiled from the rag when it brushed against his bruised cheek harder than he would have liked. Tony sighed and tossed the rag on the bed before moving to the chair at the desk. "He's good." Peter winced, a sudden rush of pain hitting him briefly. "It was like he knew everything I was going to do before I even did it." Peter reflected on the fight. On how outmatched he'd been, with all his strength and heightened reflexes, he was still no match for Batroc.
Tony watched him with both curiosity and nervousness. Peter was a stubborn kid and would want a rematch given the chance.

Tony wasn't about to let Peter tangle with Batroc again. "You need to take a shower." Tony pulled his phone from his pocket and began dialing a number.

"I don't want to." Peter shrugged his response. It earned him a glare from his mentor.

"I wasn't asking." Tony used his most stern voice. "Get your ass in the shower." Peter didn't argue but allowed his discontent to be known with his sigh.
Tony waited till he heard the bathroom door click shut and for the shower to start to finish dialing.

"Hello?" Natasha answered, slight confusion in her voice.

"Morning, Romanoff." He responded shortly, holding the phone on his shoulder and trying to find her location with his smartwatch. "I see the Quinjet on stealth mode; where ya at?" He began to probe. It is evident that he still didn't trust him.

Natasha sat up from the spot she'd dozed off in and tried to think of the lie she'd had planned for this situation. "I'm on a mission." The spy cursed herself mentally for not turning off her stupid phone. Though that REALLY would have pissed off the older control freak.

"A mission, huh?" Tony tried not to laugh. Ross told him every time he deployed the Black Widow, something Tony had convinced him to do. Though it didn't take much convincing, Thaddeus Ross didn't trust Natasha as far as he could throw her. Natasha only made a small noise as her response. Natasha stayed silent, choosing not to argue since he could simply turn off the Quinjet's stealth feature if he really wanted to. Something he'd implemented both after losing Bruce and more so because she'd rejoined the team. "You're at Barton's, aren't you?" He asked rhetorically. Again her silence confirmed it. "Excellent, because I need your help." Natasha rubbed her temple at that. She hadn't heard from the man she had once considered one of her closest friends in nearly three weeks. It was a tad hurtful but also very insulting.

"What do you need?" She asked bitterly.

"Spider-Man had a run-in with Georges Batroc." That grabbed her attention. Batroc was a handful for anybody, let alone a kid. Even one with superhuman strength.

"Jesus, is he still alive?" She questioned, honestly concerned. The kid had seemed pleasant and well-meaning in Leipzig and was pretty well known as a local hero in New York.

"Yeah," Tony rubbed his forehead. The kid was going to give him a god damn heart attack. "Yeah, he's alive." Tony was thankful for that. "I need your help catching this guy before Peter wants a rematch or he hurts someone else." Shit! Tony mentally cursed himself for letting the kid's name slip.

This was the last thing she needed, to be roped into Tony's mess. "I'm dealing with my own stuff right now." Natasha protested lightly, choosing to ignore the name slip. The identity of New York's beloved Spider-Man held no interest to her. At least not yet.

"That's too bad." Tony began to pull his authority over her.

Natasha drew in a sharp breath and barely held back a barrage of insults. "This is not my fucking problem, Stark!" The frustrated spy tried not to yell, knowing it'd wake the house full of sleeping people. The three tiny people were her biggest concern.

"Well, I'm making it your problem, ROMANOFF!" Tony was sure to enunciate her name. "Now, you and Cap can meet me at the Compound tonight, or I can have a squad of JSOC guys up there to drag your ass in with Rogers and the rest of them." There was silence on the other end of the phone, Natasha punching her pillow repeatedly in frustration. Tony knew they were all there. He had leverage on her.

"Okay," She took in a deep breath of air. "But I need something." Tony stopped in his tracks as he dug through Peter's fridge, which was practically empty, except for a half-empty carton of eggs and a jug of spoiled milk.

"I didn't realize this was a negotiation," Tony questioned her, still unconsciously high on his power trip.

Natasha sighed. "It's not." She said, running a hand through her curly red hair. "But I need a favor, and you're the only person who can help me." Her years of espionage had taught her that arguing with someone was rarely effective. And even rarer with a narcissist like Tony Stark. She could have resorted to flattery or simply stolen the card. But in truth, she was tired of all the lying.

"And why should I help you?" He asked though it sounded colder when it came out than he had intended.

Natasha winced and let out a slight sigh. That one hurt. "Because you're my friend." She spoke from her heart, something she had never done with Tony. "Because you're supposed to care about me. Because," She let all her frustration and hurt out in her plea. It even surprised her how painful it was when she was forced to face the cracks in their once solid friendship. "Because I need to look through SHIELD's records for something from my past, and you're the only person who can help me. And you'll understand when I've found it." She finished her plea, hoping it got through his thick skull. She hoped that he still cared enough about her to help her with this one thing.

Tony was taken back by her genuine plea for his help. And the sudden realization that he'd taken out his hurt and aggression towards Steve on Natasha under the guise of being hurt by her betrayal hit him like a train. "Fine," Whatever she needed was obviously important to her, and he owed it to her after the last few months. "But it better be cool."


A rush of panic hit Justin when he heard his associate had engaged Spider-Man. And even after the man that'd witnessed the skirmish had ensured him that Spider-Man had gotten the worst of it, he was still worried. Justin didn't know much about the famous Spider-Man, aside from a few YouTube videos and still frame photos of him going toe-to-toe with Captain America. He was, however, sure that he had a direct line to Tony Stark and the rest of the Avengers. Killing them would be complicated if they got wind of the plan.
The man pulled into the parking lot of his automated factory and hung his SUV up on the curb before rushing inside. He was greeted by Georges sitting shirtless on a fold-out chair, his back to him.

"I can't beat them." There was a hint of defeat in his voice. "3 black belts, 25 years of training, and I'm still not a match for them." He finally turned towards Justin. His left eye was nearly swollen shut from the fractured cheekbone he'd received from Spider-Man.

He grimaced, just looking at the injury. "I heard you gave Spider-Man all he could handle and then some." Justin tried to console Georges, though he wasn't sure why.

Georges scoffed. "He's no man; he's a boy in a costume." The little spider packed a punch, but he was a kid who had no training. And still, he wasn't able to kill him. "There's no amount of training that could close the gap between them and me." He spoke of all the enhanced people that now populated the world with a hint of awe in his voice. "The world has evolved past people like me." Since Georges had taken up training in his early teens, the only thing that truly interested him was testing his skills against the very best. He'd lost countless fights, but he went back to work on fine-tuning his style every time he lost. It's what had made him so effective. But things had changed. No amount of training could close the gap between him and the Steve Rogers of the world.

"Actually," Justin began to mentally formulate a way to better their odds of killing the Avengers. "There might be a way to close that gap." That gained Georges' attention. "A military Super Soldier program was being developed by a company I acquired before the American invasion of Afghanistan." The weapon mogul recalled the serum that'd been developed but never tested. "I told them to shelve it." The soldier in Batroc surfaced when he heard that.

"You shelved a super-soldier program?" He questioned, standing from his chair onto his slightly uneasy legs. "Why would you have done such a thing?" As far as Georges was concerned, aside from the Atomic Bomb, Captain America and the Winter Soldier were the most significant advancements in man kind's many years of warfare.

Justin shrugged his slim shoulders. "There's no money in it." He spoke from his business standpoint. "It cost them 15 million dollars to produce one dose, which ultimately put them into bankruptcy and allowed me to buy them out. And the Military was and still is more interested in weapons. And there are always side effects." Georges sighed and took two long steps forward till he was nose to nose with Justin.

"I am not interested in the side effects." He practically growled.

"Okay," Justin panicked slightly. "Okay, I need you to realize that we never tested it. It MIGHT not even work, or there could be side effects-" Batroc reached out and grabbed him by his blue pinstriped tie. A threat even without even speaking a word. Justin might have said it was impressive if it weren't so terrifying. "Okay, okay, okay. You're not interested in side effects! I get it!" Justin raised his hands in an 'I surrender' sort of gesture.

"Get me that fucking serum. Now." He spoke in a low and commanding tone, and Justin nodded his response quickly as Batroc tucked the tie back into his suit and pulled Justin's cell phone from his pocket. Something the businessman didn't protest.

"It's being stored at one of my facilities in Kansas, but I'll have it delivered." Justin breathed a sigh of relief and combed his hair back into place. "You should get that checked out." That got a laugh from Georges as he returned to his seat.

"I have faith in your serum, Mr. Hammer." He shrugged off the suggestion.
The two men parted ways for the evening while Justin had his untested serum flown in from the American Midwest. He didn't sleep that night, choosing to sit at his private hanger as the night drug by and the sun rose in the sky above JFK airport, where he'd pick up the serum. Justin was afraid it wouldn't work, and he was even more afraid it would. He knew what had happened to Emil Blonsky in New York nearly a decade earlier.

"It'll be different." He assured himself as the cargo plane was taxied into the hanger. The exchange was quick. The guards on board the plane weren't burdened with knowing its contents—twelve vials for each major muscle group. And one to be injected directly into the spinal cord to enhance brain function. All of which were locked in a metal combination locked case.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Justin asked one final time as Georges undressed and picked up one of the needles. "Once I start I can't stop. And the effects will be irreversible." Justin wasn't a doctor, but he had heard horror stories about failed super-soldier programs over the years.

"You're worried about me?" Georges turned towards his new ally.

"And about myself." He admitted with a slight chuckle. "No offense, but you aren't the most patient of people, and you have a temper." Justin averted his gaze to the ceiling. It was an uncomfortable thing having Georges strolling around naked, especially since it didn't seem to bother him. "You didn't need to take your underwear off." Georges laughed and sat down.

"Let us begin." Batroc was done waiting, and he lacked the anxiety that plagued Justin. His training had taught him to jump without looking, and it'd kept him alive so far.

Justin took a deep breath and picked up the first needle. "This is going to hurt." He plunged the needle into the back of Georges's arm. The bright blue liquid hit his bloodstream, and the pain was immediate, like his blood being replaced with acid. With every shot, the pain increased; his muscles and joints screamed, and so did he. "Dear God.." Justin watched as the bruising around Batroc's eye faded, and the swelling went down. The serum worked! His body was healing itself before his eyes.

"What are you waiting for!?" Batroc demanded that knowing the last shot into his spine would be the most painful, but knowing it was necessary. Justin nodded, grabbed the last syringe, and quickly but carefully slid the needle between the vertebrae in his lower back.
For a split second, everything went numb, but the pain quickly came back like a wave.

"Okay! That's it!" Justin removed the needle, and Batroc leaped from his seat and onto the cold, smooth concrete floor. His naked body was drenched in sweat and convulsing and trembling.

"This," Batroc pushed himself onto his hands and knees. "This is incredible." A smile spread across his lips as he seemed to experience everything for the first time. Everything around him was clearer. His vision which had diminished as he'd aged, was returned. But it wasn't just his sight; it was everything; his hearing and sense of smell had improved beyond anything he had ever felt. He wanted to test it. He HAD to try all of it. With one quick movement leaned on to his hands propelled himself off the floor, and landed on his feet.

"You're bigger." Justin pointed out the noticeable increase in his already exception muscle mass. "Think it'll be enough for you to defeat Rogers, one on one?" Justin asked, knowing that was and always had been Batroc's goal.

The man smiled, thinking of it. "There's only one way to find out."

Author's note: So here's chapter 5! I'm sure a few of you are wondering how Georges Batroc beat spider-man. I've trained myself and I can tell you I know what happens when someone with no training fights someone who does. And when everything else is even, the bigger, stronger person wins, but everything wouldn't be even here. And with the serum, I wanted to close the gap between Cap and Batroc. And I just wanted to thank all of you for supporting this story, it means more than you all probably realize. Please read and review! I read them all and they are very much appreciated.