A/N: Hello! Ok, obviously I need to talk about some stuff real quick, and clear the air. I apologize for taking so long for this update. I know I took forever, and I know some of you hate that. I hate it too. Unfortunately, my life has gotten super busy outta nowhere, and will not slow down any time soon. I promise that I will try to update more. I can't promise that it won't take as long though.
However, I have been working on this update for a while. Originally, this chapter was going to be entirely different. However, saving error after saving error erased my work, and it got to the point where I just sick and tired of writing the same thing over and over, and I noticed that each draft was becoming worse and worse. So, instead, I did something different. I noticed that it was the 40th chapter, so I figured, let's make a special. I know it's usually 50, but screw it, 40 will be important here. So I present to you, the super extra long 40th chapter, that's almost 8,000 words long, which focuses on how Peter's departure has effected the others. I enjoyed writing this chapter so much, and I hope it translates. Please enjoy.
"Come on...NO!"
Tony groaned loudly, frustration taking over, as he put his face in his hands. He's locked himself up in his lab, refusing to come out for days since he found out about Peter. He was currently trying to track the radiation from Doom's rocket, and trace it to where it ended up in space.
There was one problem however. The energy trails disappeared the second they left the atmosphere. Poof, gone. Radiation doesn't work like that. Meaning Doom somehow found a new energy source.
Tony leaned back in his chair, sighing loudly. What he really needed was resources. But he couldn't get any. The Fantastic Four were preoccupied with whatever Doom was going to throw at them, SHIELD had wiped their hands clean of this, and it wasn't like he could just ask Latveria what their new power source was.
Yeah, my friends just assaulted your beloved leader and invaded your country, but we're cool, right?
No, no one would be cool.
He rubbed his face in anger, trying to think of a new solution, and failing. He's exhausted everything he's thought of, all to no real effect.
"Sir?" JARVIS suddenly rang, slightly startling Tony.
"What?" He asked, a little annoyed.
"Is there anything I can get you?"
Tony just kept rubbing his face. "Any chance you can get me my intern from space? Cause that would be great."
"Sir, may I make a suggestion?"
Tony remained quiet, not bothering to answer.
"Perhaps it's time to take a break?"
Tony suddenly froze for a second, before pulling his face out of his hands, a slightly shocked look in his bloodshot eyes. "JARVIS, run a diagnostics scan on yourself. I think you may be malfunctioning."
"Diagnostics are 100% operational. Sir, I think you need a break."
"Great, one more thing to work on," the billionaire mumbled to himself. "I'll take a break when-"
"Sir, Einstein discovered the theory of relativity while he was relaxing and thinking about an old trip he took on a train. I believe you need an Einstein moment yourself."
"That was different," Tony reasoned, as he got off of his seat and started to pace around his lab. "He was trying to prove something that no one knew existed. I'm trying to find a teenager that was shot into a giant lifeless void with no way back. Not exactly the same thing."
"Sir, you have not slept well the past few days. Your mind is not at the highest level it could be. History has shown that those who take a break have been able to create solutions they could not previously think of before. For young Mister Parker's sake, sir, take a break."
Tony leaned over a table, going quiet for a moment. "Maybe...maybe you're right. A break could help me think. Maybe get a coffee."
"Very good, sir. Allow me to make you the usual."
"No," Tony stated, holding his hand up as he got off the table. "I'm going out. Fresh air is more likely to give me some inspiration."
"Are you sure, sir?" JARVIS asked, his robotic voice still showing some trepidation.
"JARVIS, do you want me to take a break?" Tony asked, an eyebrow raised.
"Well, yes, but-"
"Then I'm heading out," Tony decided. "Hold the fort, make sure everything's nice and clean, don't let anything else get launched off planet, yadda yadda."
"Very well, sir," JARVIS obediently agreed, as Tony walked out of the lab, heading to his closet to get dressed. Maybe a coffee will help. Hopefully it will, cause right now, there's no way to find Peter.
"How far are you from the meeting point, Cap?"
Steve Rogers was in the Quinjet, flying high above the ocean, a determined look on his face. He was more focused than he had ever been in his entire life. More than when he tried so many times to join the army back in the 40's, more than when he had to fight for the world, more than ever.
"A few hours, Sam," Steve told his friend. "Are you sure he's there?"
"All signs point to here," the Falcon told him over the speaker. "The trail ends here. There's no way he disappeared again."
"Yeah, we thought that last time," Steve said, a little sorrow with a hint of frustration in his tone.
"I know, but at least we know he was there," Sam stated. "I know it's been hard for you, but come on man, have a little faith."
"You're right, you're right," Steve relented. "It's just been a tough couple of days."
"Ah, right, with the kid," Sam remembered.
Steve frowned, the past few days haunting him once more. "He was too young to come with us," Steve told his friend. "Too inexperienced. I don't know why I let it happened. Why I wasn't there."
"I never met him, but from what you've told me, the kid's tough," Sam said. "You said you think he was still alive?"
"Yes. Yes I did."
"Well, if you think he's still alive, who the hell am I to argue with Captain America?"
Steve chuckled slightly. "If you say so. See you in a bit," Cap told him, as he logged off. Steve's small smile went back to a frown, as he thought once more about Peter.
He...he was in space. It was hard to wrap his head around. Steve had remembered when space travel was just a madman's dream, and now a young man that he had taken under his wing, who he trained to become a better hero, who he saw as a young man with endless potential, had been launched into space by a tyrannical villain who can't be persecuted due to international law.
He hated it. He hated it so much. A kid wanted to do the right thing, and he was punished for it to the extreme. He saw it all the time in the war, and he hated it back then too.
Spider-Man was a good soldier. One that New York, and the world in general, desperately needed. Sure, the Avengers would always protect the innocent from whatever threat comes up, but people need someone like Spider-Man. Someone that isn't seen as just an idol, but someone they can relate to. Someone who is really just one of them.
And he was powerless to help him. There was nothing he could do.
Suddenly, the dashboard of the Quinjet beeped, as the patriotic pilot looked down, to see he was closing in on his destination. The noise cut through his somber thoughts, as determination reared up once more.
While there was nothing he could do for one friend, he knew he was able to save another.
"Where in the hell is Parker!?"
It was another usual day in the Daily Bugle, as J. Jonah Jameson barged around the offices of the newspaper, cigar in his mouth, trying his best to bring together a new edition for tomorrow. There was just one problem.
He didn't have any pictures of Spider-Man.
"Leeds, finish up that report of the mayor's speech on the new budget plans and have it on my desk yesterday!" He barked at a brown haired man, with wide eyes.
"Sure thing, Mister Jameson," Leeds said, as the editor-in-chief walked by without giving him a second look.
Jonah then looked at another man, stopping for a second. "You! Earl!"
"It's, uh, Carl, sir," The man timidly corrected.
The vein on J.J's forehead started bulging out. "I don't care if your name is Sue! Get me a coffee, two sugars, no cream, with a double shot of Expresso!"
"Uh, I'm an political analyst sir-"
"Well right now you're a coffee getter! Do it or you're fired!"
"Yes sir!" Carl hurriedly said, as he quickly left the offices to get the coffee.
Jonah then quickly regained his pace, as his trusted employee Robbie Robertson joined him, walking at the same brisk pace behind him. "Robbie, great," J.J. greeted. "Take a memo for me. 'Fire Parker'. End memo."
"Jonah, you-"
"Brant!" Jonah yelled, as he walked up to his secretary's desk.
The beautiful brunette gave a small, insincere smile, as she cringed slightly from the volume of Jonah's voice. "Yes, boss?"
"Call Parker, get him here with pictures of Spider-Man, then tell him he's fired."
"Jonah," Robbie tried again, "Peter-"
"Is a lazy, no good scoundrel? Glad you agree Robbie," Jonah quickly cut him off.
"No!" Robbie exasperatedly breathed. "You gave Peter some vacation time, remember?"
"What!?" Jonah exclaimed, making Robbie rub his forehead as he felt a headache coming on.
"Peter's in Europe for that trip with Stark Industries," Robbie reminded him. "He has the rest of this week, and next week, off."
"Argh!" Jonah groaned, frustrated. "Fine, he's not fired. But what in blue blazes is the first page suppose to be about! We can't have a Spider-Man story without Spider-Man pictures!"
"Don't you have some older ones that Peter took?" Betty asked, still with the same fake smile on her delicate features.
"We need recent pictures!" The head of the Bugle cried. "We need up to date reminders on why he is a menace to society, otherwise people may lose the message! I did not get this paper to where it is today by using old photos, Brant! The Globe would have my head on a pike if they found out!" He ranted.
"Alright, alright, just a suggestion," Betty conceded.
"Mister Jameson?" A man called behind him.
Jonah turned around, to see his top investigative journalist standing in front of him, smoking a cigarette, and holding a manila envelope. "What is it, Urich?" He asked, unamused.
Ben Urich put a hand through his slightly long brown hair. "If you're having trouble with a cover story, I think I have one."
"Oh yeah, what is it?" Jonah asked, not expecting anything worthwhile.
"The vigilante in Hell's Kitchen," he answered, before taking another drag of his smoke.
"Ugh, not this Daredevil nonsense again," Jonah shook his head. "I told ya Urich, I ain't interested."
"He's real, Jonah," Ben defended. "He's real, and he's busy. He's been taking down gangs left and right in Hell's Kitchen."
"And yet there's no solid evidence that he's real," Jonah stated. "I won't have myths on the front page, Urich!"
"We live in a world with a spider-powered man, Avengers, mutants, hell, we got invaded by Aliens and a robot man almost destroyed the planet. But a guy dressed as a devil is too much for you?" He argued.
Jonah rubbed the stubble on his chin, before letting out a small sigh. "Let me see," he said, giving in to Ben's request. It looked like Daredevil was going to make his front page debut, much to Jonah's chagrin.
"Ah...nothin' like havin' the day to myself."
Logan wandered around the X-Mansion, as the rest of the X-Men were out taking the students on a type of field trip. Charles Xavier offered Logan to come, since he was one of the professors after all, but he declined. Logan wasn't used to being a teacher, and definitely wasn't used to going on fun little trips with teenagers. Ugh, he could only imagine.
Instead, he's alone in a giant mansion, with a flat screen TV, and a fully stocked fridge with his favorite brand of beer. He made the right call.
He walked into the large, pristine kitchen of the mansion, as he glanced at the marble covered counters, and dark mahogany tables and cabinets inside, all of it slightly covered in packaged food and cooking gear. Not really caring about much else, the mutant then walked over to the large, double door fridge, and looked inside it.
He found a six pack of his beer. Untouched. He grinned for a second, ripping a can off of the plastic rings binding them together, before freezing. He sniffed the air a few times, before frowning deeply.
"We have a doorbell, ya know," he growled, as he closed the fridge door, and looking to his left, to see the familiar sight of Nick Fury, standing there in his usual trench coat attire.
"If I used it, you wouldn't of answered," Fury stated.
Wolverine gave the director a small glare. "You're right," he agreed, before cracking open his can and taking a drink.
"How's Kurt doing?" Fury asked. "Recover from that gunshot yet?"
Logan didn't look amused. "He's just fine. Off on a trip right now. Some punk getting a lucky shot ain't enough to keep him down."
"Getting a hit on a teleporter..." Fury mused. "One heck of a thing."
"What do you want?" Logan shortly questioned.
"I need your help," Fury answered.
"Ain't interested," Logan said, as he turned and started to walk away. "I've had enough classified missions of yours to last me a lifetime."
"It isn't a mission for you," Fury said, making Logan stop in his tracks.
"Then what?" Logan asked, turning back around. "You need help movin'? Cause I ain't picking up a couch for you."
"Cute," Fury frowned, as he looked at the diminutive man. "I need help finding someone."
"And you need a tracker?" Logan said. "Answer's no."
"I need Cerebro."
Wolverine froze mid-drink, as he looked at the head of SHIELD, surprised. "How do you know about Cerebro?"
"I know everything about this school," Fury said. "You're lucky SHIELD isn't run by bigots, otherwise we could've shut this place down permanently."
"Oh yeah?" Logan asked. "And how do I know you ain't gonna do that anyway?"
Fury leaned on a table. "Because you aren't the only one who's been persecuted for who they are."
Logan looked at him, before nodding his head slightly. "Who ya looking for Nick? Some terrorist? Scientist?"
"You've met him before," Fury stated. "I'm looking for Spider-Man."
Logan paused again, his face showing the slightest bit of concern. "Spider-Man? What'd ya want with him? He's just a kid."
"I know," Fury said, as he looked down for a moment, before looking back at the mutant. "A few days ago, the Avengers and Fantastic Four were led by me on a mission to Latveria."
"Latveria? What'd Doom do this time?"
"Built a WMD," Fury answered. "It was to be launched into space for an unknown purpose. Since unknown could've meant us, we had to shut it down."
"And?" Logan asked, not seeing the point.
"Spider-Man was launched into space during the operation."
Logan's eyes widened, before a snarl got on his face. "You sent a kid to fight a dictator?" He growled, not happy at all.
"Yes, I did," Fury said as he got off the table, apologetic. "And I regret it."
"He could handle thugs and a super-powered freak or two. And you sent him against Doom!?" He yelled, as he walked closer to Fury. "The hell were you thinking?"
"He's a powerful kid, and we figured that power could be useful."
"So what?" Logan asked, flabbergasted, as the mutant was now right in his face, baring his teeth. "SHIELD needs to cover this up? Try to fix it's mistakes?"
"SHIELD has nothing to do with this," Fury told him, surprising Wolverine.
"Wait, what?" Logan questioned, confused.
"I'm here without SHIELD's consent," he revealed. "They've wiped their hands of this. They won't put any resources towards finding him."
"...and that's why you're here?" Logan asked, a stoic look on his face.
"That's why I'm here," Fury said, a tired look in his eye.
Logan went quiet, considering this, as he backed off slightly. He scratched his cheek real quick, before taking another gulp of his beer. "Xavier ain't here now," Wolverine told him. "And he ain't going to be here for a while. Cerebro's only been used to check the Earth, not space."
"But can you try?" Fury asked, emotionless.
Logan just looked at him for a moment. "We can try. What makes you think he's alive? He got shot into space. Anyone without a healin' factor is pretty much dead up there."
Fury closed his eye for a second, before looking back at Logan. "He's one of the smartest people I've ever met, and he's one of the most determined people I've ever met. If anyone of us can survive being shot in space, it's him."
"That can't be all," Logan said. "That wouldn't be enough for ya..."
Fury nodded his head slightly. "You're right. What's enough for me is that Tony Stark thinks he's alive. And who am I to argue with a genius?"
Wolverine looked away for a second, as the two remained quiet.
Fury was the one to break the silence. "I'll see myself out," he said, as he started to walk away.
"Fury."
Nick paused, as he turned slightly, to see Logan staring at him. "Yeah?"
"I don't like you."
"I know."
"But he was a good kid. If we can't do it, will you find him?"
Fury went silent for a moment. "Logan, I will do whatever I can."
Logan stared at the director for a moment. "That's all I can ask," he said, as he drank his beer. Fury turned back around, and walked out of the kitchen, disappearing from sight, and leaving Logan alone with his thoughts.
"Natasha? It's Clint. You know it's Clint. Pick up. I'm worried."
Hawkeye was perched over a ledge in Japan, his vision illuminated by the multiple neon lights of the modern city, and his senses assaulted by the sounds of various people under him, bustling around even at this hour of the night. He had his bow and arrow drawn, as he was waiting for the target of his mission: a Dragon Head of the Triads.
Hoping to distract himself from the situation, Clint had gone to SHIELD, and though he'd never admit it, basically begged for a mission. He was granted one, was flown halfway around the world, and now he's sitting on a building in the middle of downtown Tokyo. For the moment, he was content. That is, until he actually tried to face his problems.
Peter had grown on him, as he had grown on the rest of the team. They watched movies together, they played video games against each other, Clint tried to show the teenager how to shoot a bow and arrow once (to disastrous results), and they just overall bonded. A kid and a kid at heart, how could they not get along?
Of course, Clint was devastated too. There really wasn't anything he could do, and there wasn't anything saying that Peter had actually survived the trip to space, or is actually alive right now. As far as Clint knew, Peter was dead. Sadly, Clint was used to this kind of situation. Hey, it comes with the job. That's why he kept his family under wraps, so they could be spared. Clint would just have to chalk this up to a learning experience
Natasha, on the other hand...
Clint tapped his earpiece once more, calling his partner. Her communicator went straight to the message beep, without any trace of a voicemail message. "Tasha, come on, talk to me," Clint said, not knowing what to do.
Natasha was hit surprisingly hard by this, at least from what Clint could tell. Even after all of these years, his closest friend was a hard woman to read. But she felt this. She felt this loss. Clint couldn't remember the last time it happened. She stayed distant from most people, him and Cap being notable exceptions, but with Peter, she had something different. A kind of respect that lead itself to something else.
It was no secret that she didn't think of him at first. In fact, she hated the fact he was around. A kid hanging around Earth's Mightiest Heroes because Stark wanted to get his kicks? Clint was skeptical at first, but Natasha? Oh, the things she said behind closed doors.
But eventually Peter proved himself. He showed what an intelligent kid he was, even if he couldn't shut the hell up. He had heart, and as Spider-Man, he showed a desire to do what's right. Clint still isn't sure what Peter said to win her over, but he did, and she's looked favorable upon him ever since. Hell, she wanted to make a scrapbook for his winter formal dance. SHIELD agent and former Russian superspy and assassin who was feared by even the most powerful of men, was tempted to make a scrapbook for a 16 year old boy.
Suddenly, Clint felt an overwhelming sadness. He couldn't pretend anymore. He was going to miss Peter. He was a good kid, and a great hero, and if his kids grew up to be like that, he would be a proud father. Hawkeye shook his head, frustrated and hurt. He wasn't going to have another video game night with him, wasn't going to get into a stupid argument with him again, and they weren't going to be able to annoy each other again.
Clint looked down, and saw his target. He tightened his grip on his bow, made sure the string was pulled back all the way, and aimed. He didn't miss. He never does.
Tony walked down the streets of Manhattan, a little weirded out to actually be on the ground level of the city for once, like a normal pedestrian. Not in a limo, or flying high above, but actually walking around.
It felt...foreign...
He looked at the people walking past him, oblivious to who he is. He gave a tired grin at the thought, as he was wearing a dark hoodie with the hood up, over a baseball cap, along with a pair of dark sunglasses over his eyes. The Avengers' go-to "incognito" outfit. So good, no one can even tell when a billionaire superhero was walking the streets among them.
Ex-superhero, actually. He's retired, and he's staying that way. He's lost way too much to go back to his former life.
Pepper, Peter, his sanity, he just can't do it. Not anymore. It was fun at first, it was exhilarating, but he realized the responsibility that would come with it. He took it without question at first, but when aliens and gods started coming into the mix, he was...strained, to say the least. Then when all these villains started popping into his life...
He pushed people away. He knew he did. He pushed Pepper away, he tried to push Rhodey away, and he hasn't even contacted Happy since the former bodyguard got out of the hospital. That's just what Tony did. He didn't trust himself or his life to keep people safe. And now...
Pepper's gone. She's gone. She won't come back, he can tell. He finally pushed too far, and she won't tolerate him any longer. He needs to accept it, and try to move on. But God, if it didn't hurt.
Lost in thought, his feet mindlessly taking him across the street along with the other New Yorkers, a question popped into his head.
Why did he bring Peter into all of this in the first place? Just because he was cool? Stark had never seen anything like that before. Someone who was so strong, but so quick. Someone who when he looked into it, turned out to be so young. And he was already more courageous than most men.
Probably more courageous than he was.
But it had to of been more than that, right? To have brought him into the fold so readily, he had to of had a better reason than that.
No one else knew this, but, he had a talk with Steve about this. After the Scorpion thing, Steve was more than willing to have Peter around. But, he was curious as to why Tony found him in the first place.
"Because I was bored," was the answer at the time. Rogers just shrugged and accepted it. Typical Tony.
But that wasn't it. It may of been the factor that started it, but not the one that led to all of this. Tony...saw himself in the kid. Just enough of him. And in some ways, he sees the things he wishes he was at that age. Caring, forgiving, and optimistic.
Not like Tony was at that age. Sardonic, emotional, and bitter about his father never truly caring for him. Heh, actually, now that he thinks about it, that sounds like him as an adult too.
The truth was, Tony saw a kid who could be better than him, and he wanted him to succeed. That's why he brought him into his tower, that's why he had him hang around the Avengers, and that's why Tony was guiding him. Because Tony wanted to mentor the kid who would change the world.
But he got that kid into space. That one was his fault. Doom may of done the act, but Tony caused it. And now if Tony can't figure out a way to bring him back, he was dead. That's why Tony really didn't want to take this break, but he had exhausted all of his options. He needed inspiration, and fast.
He hates how right JARVIS can be. Maybe he should lower the intelligence a smidge.
Tony finally made it to the coffee shop, as he opened the clear glass door to get inside. He looked around, to see the cozy furniture, wooden floors, and various people messing around on their phones and laptops, sipping their coffee.
A room full of people who think they're better than everyone else, with little to prove that they are. Tony felt right at home.
He walked right up to the counter, as a barista was waiting for him. "Iced Americano, please. Double expressio," he said, as he took out his wallet, and handed the girl a 50. She held it up to the light, and then gave a small smile to her customer, before opening the register and giving him his change.
"One Iced Americano, coming up," she stated, as she went to work, leaving Tony alone, leaning on the counter and looking at the wall.
"Iced Americano...I think I have a new name for Steve," Tony mumbled to himself, as he waited. He heard the door open behind him, but didn't care enough to see who came in.
"Seriously, school being out is the best," he overheard a boy say.
"Yeah, but Principal Beck being a crook is weird. Like, did you read that Mysterio stuff in the Bugle?" A female voice asked.
"I saw it. Did they ever catch him after he escaped?" The boy asked.
"No," another female voice said. "Dad says they're still looking, but they don't have any leads."
"Did Peter take that picture?" The first girl asked. "Ya know, for the Bugle."
"Of course he did," the other answered. "I don't even think that they have any other photographers."
"Peter?" Tony muttered to himself, as he turned around, to see three teenagers, a redheaded boy, a redheaded girl, and a blonde, sitting in some of the cushy chairs. Tony recognized them as Peter's friends, from Coney Island.
"How is Pete?" Harry asked. "Is he enjoying Europe? I can't seem to call him and he isn't answering my texts."
"Uh, yeah," the blonde answered. "He said his phone would be in some dead spots."
"Cool, I was a little worried about Tiger," Mary Jane stated. "And how are you and Tiger doing? Give you any grief yet?"
The blonde blushed slightly, smiling. "We're...fine."
"Oooooh," MJ girlishly went, "Looks like you're doing more than fine. Come on girl, dish."
"Nothing's happened," she defended. "Just..."
"Just what?"
"Just...a little kissing."
"Ooooooooh!" MJ went again, this time playfully joined by Harry.
"Shut up!" Gwen blushed harder.
"Peter and Gwen, sitting in a tree," Harry teasingly sang.
"Ugh," Gwen groaned. "What are you, 12?"
"Gwen..." Tony said to himself, as he looked at the teenagers with wide, curious eyes.
"Here's your coffee, sir," the barista cheerily said.
"Uh-huh," Tony absentmindedly grunted, as he looked at the group of teenagers. He then sipped on his sugary beverage, before quickly heading out the door.
He just got an idea. Well, he got an idea about how to get an idea.
"Ismel. Answer me."
The slightly burly man with light brown skin, Ismel, looked at the man in front of him. However, in his eyes, and the eyes of many, this was no longer a man.
"Ismel. How did your security fail?"
"I...I do not know...they must of found a bypass."
"A bypass. You promised that you could build the world's finest system. One that was impregnable."
Ismel trembled in fear, as the man walked closer to him, towering over him.
"You promised Doom!" Doctor Doom roared, not pleased at all with his servant. "And you stand in my throne room, and say that my systems are weak."
"N-no, Lord Doom!" Ismel stated. "Your systems are strong! Nothing can beat Latverian technology! They simply exploited it. With a quick patch up, it will be impenetrable!"
Doom narrowed his eyes at his chief of security. "Very well..." he said, as the iron cladded dictator marched back to his throne, before sitting down and resting his head on his fist. "Go make the changes. Make it worthy of Doom's name."
"Yes, my lord," Ismel quickly started, as he started to walk away.
"Ismel," Doom commanded, making his lackey freeze in place.
"Y-yes, my lord?" The minion asked.
"If you fail again, you will feel the full wrath of my power. Understood?" Doom demanded.
"Y...yes..." He timidly answered, before walking out of the throne room, closing the large wooden, yet reinforced side doors behind him.
With Ismel gone, Doom was left with his thoughts. The Avengers invaded his home. That alone deserves their destruction. But he must be careful. Patient. One wrong move could put his beloved country into a war they are not prepared for. Yet. But they will be. One day, and one day soon. They will be. However, his country has lost their most powerful weapon. One that he desperately needed. And one that's importance was not understood by others.
"You should know you walked into your death," he called aloud.
He heard nothing but a pungent silence for a moment.
"Doom knows you are here. Come out, and face me."
After another still moment, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows, revealing herself to the dictator, an emotionless look on her face, and her usual leather catsuit on.
"The Black Widow," Doom greeted. "Unexpected, yet obvious. I did not think you to make a move so soon after your initial invasion."
Natasha said nothing, as she just stared at Doom, gun at the ready in her hand, while a million thoughts raced through her mind. She was used to infiltrating fortresses such as this. Just never under these circumstances.
"Has Fury sent you to try and kill me?" Victor asked. "Or is there another enemy of mine who has sent you as their fist."
Natasha remained quiet, her red hair partly covering her dead eyes, yet Doom could see their icy glare.
"Doom does not wish to fight you himself," the dictator stated, as he pressed a button on his gauntlet.
After a quick second, Ismel ran back inside. "My lord, what's wrong?" He asked as he crashed through the side doors. When he saw the presence of Black Widow, he froze slightly, before pulling his pistol out, and pointing it at her. "Don't move!" He barked, before he quickly moved in front of Doom. "You shall not-!"
He was cut off as Doom quickly rose from his throne, and grabbed his minion by the top of his head with one large metallic hand, before electricity flowed out of his hand into Ismel's body. The henchman screamed in agony, as his body started flailing uncontrollably as he was electrocuted. His skin started smoking, the smell of his burning form filling the air as Doom brutally murdered him, without an ounce of remorse, as he stared right at the Avenger, who did even flinch.
After a few seconds, Doom stopped the electrical current, until he just threw his motionless carcass to the floor. "Doom does not wish to fight you himself...but he will."
With that, Doom almost flew towards Natasha, quickly closing the distance between the two, before he grabbed her by her face with one hand, and raised her up off the ground, making her drop her gun in surprise, as she simply grabbed his wrist, without struggling.
"I should of known that you could not escape your past," Doom stated, as Natasha narrowed her eyes at him in response. "I know you. I've researched you. You once had more strength than the other Avengers, but gave that up for their ideals. So you could fit in. Pathetic. But you...are a killer. That is your nature. You simply picked the wrong target."
"You don't know me..." Natasha venomously spat.
"No?" Doom asked, as he brought Natasha closer to his silver face. "Then why are you here, assassin?"
"I...I want to know."
Doom stared silently at the redheaded woman for a long time. Finally, he dropped her, making her land on her knees on the floor, as she took a deep breath. Doom then turned around, and slowly walked back to his throne, sitting down again, before leaning forward. "You have...Doom's interest."
Natasha coughed slightly, still looking at the dictator with contempt, before she discreetly picked her gun up, placed it in her holster, and slowly got back to her feet.
"Tell me," Victor started. "How do you know I will not kill you?"
"You don't want that fight," she simply stated, dead serious. "You know you wouldn't win."
Doom was quiet. "Yet, I could simply hide this incident. Sweep it under the rug. I would assume no one knows you're here. They would never find you."
Natasha blinked. "You're right."
Doom considered this, his fingers tented, as he leaned back on his throne. "What information do you wish to know?"
"Why did you do it?" She asked. "Why did you send Spider-Man to space?"
"I did no such thing," he answered, shaking his head slightly. "His departure from Earth was completely incidental. I found an invader in my castle, I gave him the chance to surrender, and he didn't. His death is his fault and only his fault."
Natasha's face flashed with anger, before she quickly suppressed her rage. "Don't you dare speak of him like that."
"Ah, did I uncover a sort of affinity?" Doom mocked. "You come and make demands of me, and yet you expect me to follow your rules. Make no mistake, I will not do what you say, if I do not want to."
"Fine," she angrily conceded. "Just know that I don't take kindly to it."
Doom's eyes flicked with an unreadable emotion. "Duly noted."
"So you didn't do it on purpose."
"No. I would've gained nothing by my weapon's departure. And I have."
"So it was a weapon."
"Yes."
"For what?" Natasha asked, walking up to him just a bit closer.
Doom paused. "I will not tell you. You have not earned that right."
"You know something we don't," Natasha deduced.
"I always do," Doom retorted. "That matter is being dealt with by Latveria, and is none of your or the Avengers concern."
Natasha gave a bitter chuckle. "Why do I feel like it's going to be?"
Doom just silently stared, not bothering to answer.
"What are you worried about?" Natasha asked. "What scares the great and powerful Doom so much that he had to build a nuke?"
"Insolent witch," Doom barked. "You may not realize this, but Doom actually does have compassion for those who are weaker than him. Humanity is flawed. Doom is not. I can fix them. So I will defend those who pledge their allegiance to Doom. And those who do not...will be crushed." Doom rose out of his chair once more, as he walked over to Natasha, and stood tall, looking down at her. "You could be of use to my regiem. Doom sees a world of strength. The daughters of Latveria, and the world, need a woman of power to inspire them. Join my cause, and you will not only know all of Doom's secrets, but lead the new world to glory."
Natasha just stared at him. "You want to protect the world so you can take over the world..."
"I would choose a different wording. But yes."
Natasha looked down, before looking at the dictator straight in his eyes. "I betrayed one ideal for another, because I felt that it was the right thing to do. That I would be able to help the world. I won't do that for a man who's vision could destroy everything."
Doom sighed. "Is this your final choice?"
Natasha nodded.
Doom went silent, the two staring at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. But the moment never came. "Very well," he stated. "You may leave."
Natasha stared at him with daggers for a few moments, before turning around, and began making her way down the carpeting that lead out of the throne room.
"You left him to die."
Natasha froze in place, not looking back.
"You sent a boy to war, and he paid the price. You do not have my pity. You do not have my sympathy. You caused the death of Spider-Man."
Natasha whipped around, taking out her pistol in one movement, before she aimed right at Doom, and emptied the entire clip into him, as gunshots filled the air. She stopped when she ran out of bullets, her gun just hanging in the air, as she looked at the dictator.
A few gunshot holes covered his green robes, smoke emitting from their impact points, but Doom was still standing, unaffected. "You knew that would not kill me."
Natasha just stood still, a scowl on her face, as the smell of gun smoke filled her flaring nostrils. "I did. But that made me feel better."
Doom crossed his arms, chuckling slightly. "You are a very interesting person, Agent Romanoff."
Natasha holstered her gun, as she turned back around, and started walking away once more. As she left, the sound of Doctor Doom's laughter filled the air, growing stronger and stronger, mocking her, as Doom reveled in another personal victory.
"Come on...wake up..."
Peter groaned, as his comfortable silence was interrupted by a voice, slightly distorted to him due to his grogginess.
"Hey buddy, time to wake up. Come on man, I'm starting to worry."
Not now. Peter's body woke up enough to feel the pain and exhaustion from the last few days catch up with him. He ached all over, as his eyes kept shut, his mind fuzzy. He felt that his mask wasn't on, yet the rest of his suit was.
He barely remembered anything. He went to Latveria. He fought Doctor Doom. He woke up in...
Space. He was in space. He met aliens.
"AHHH!" Peter yelled in sudden shock and terror, as he shot up, to see that he was in what looked like some kind of bedroom, with posters nostalgic of the 80's pinned up on the walls, and with older toys sitting on top of surprisingly normal looking counters. He looked in front of him, to see a strawberry blonde man in a plain white t-shirt and cargo pants, sitting in a chair, staring at him.
"Hey," the unfamiliar man greeted with a smile. "How are you feeling?"
Peter blinked. "Uh...fine, I guess," he awkwardly answered. "You know, all things considered."
"Heh, yeah," the man agreed. "To be honest, you look a lot better than we thought you'd be. You're a fast healer, aren't you?"
Peter still didn't feel entirely comfortable around this guy, and still didn't know if he could really trust him yet. "I guess..."
The man raised an eyebrow, before realization hit him. "Oh! Right! You, uh, you don't know me..." he chuckled nervously. "How about we get to know each other? What's your name?"
Peter didn't know if he should say his real name or not. This guy looked human, and he could ruin his secret identity. "Uh, I'm Spider-Man."
The man just pointed a finger at him. "Ok, that's a cool codename, and I know something about cool codenames. Seriously, good job with that. But I was kind of looking for a real name."
Peter rubbed his neck, still not sure whether he should say his name or not. This guy doesn't seem to know anything about Spider-Man. He's not acting like he's heard of him before. "How...how far are we from Earth?"
The man hummed to himself. "I don't know, let me check," he said, as he opened up one of his pants pockets, as he pulled out what looked like a futuristic tablet, and turned it one. He typed a few things. "One second. I gotta exit out of Tetris. Ah! Here we go...we are...57 million miles from Terra. We're at least a few quadrants away."
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Terra? Oh! Like terrain. That's what you call Earth, ok...WAIT WHAT!?"
"What?" The man asked, confused.
"57 MILLION MILES!?" Peter asked, eyes wide. "HOW LONG WAS I OUT!?"
"I don't know!" The man yelled back, feeling a little assaulted by the young hero's voice. "Like, two or three days."
Peter looked absolutely dumbfounded. "We went 57 million miles in two or three days?"
"We would've went farther, but we had to stop for snacks."
"How...but...h-how did I get so far away from Earth?" Peter asked.
"That rocket thing we found you in sent you pretty far, actually," The man answered. "We have no idea where it was going, but it looks like you stopped it."
"Yeah..." Peter trailed off, in thought. "Yeah, I did."
"Are you ok?"
Peter shook his head. "Nope. Not ok. What's the opposite of ok? I can't think of the word right now. I am the opposite of ok."
"Look, you'll be fine."
"Terrible!" Peter stated. "That was the word. I'm freaking terrible."
"You're being dramatic."
"Yep," Peter agreed. "Nice to meet you."
The man just shook his head. "You are a weird guy, aren't ya? You know what? Ok. All my friends are weirdos. But can you tell me your name?"
Peter just sighed. "My name's...Peter."
The man's eyes widened. "Your name's Peter?"
"Uh, yeah?"
"Ugh. Great."
"Why is my name such a problem."
"My name is also Peter. Peter Quill, otherwise known as legendary outlaw and Guardian of the Galaxy Star-Lord," he boasted.
"Who?" Peter honestly asked, feeling like Quill expected him to know who he was.
The outlaw deflated. "Seriously?" He asked himself, as he sigh, slightly exasperated. "Fine, ok, I'll tell you what. How about I just call you Peter, and you can call me Quill."
"Ok Peter," Peter answered.
"No, Quill."
"Peter."
"Quill."
"Parker."
"Parker?"
"Peter."
The two looked at each other, wide eyed and expecting from each other.
Finally, the brunette broke the silence. "You're starting to regret this, aren't you?"
"Oooooh yeah," Quill answered, as he rubbed his forehead, as he felt a headache coming on.