It's here, hope y'all enjoy it! :D

He didn't flinch when his sense of danger spiked. He didn't move when the building was rocked by explosions. He didn't jolt when the world around him was suddenly plunged into darkness. His eyes quickly adjusted, and he sat upright, spine straight, alert and poised. He could hardly hear the commotion in the room through his own thudding heartbeat. His chest constricted tightly, and it hurt to breathe. They were here. They were here and he had messed up. He'd messed up so badly. He was in deep trouble.

Half of him, the half that knew he had to follow the subconscious orders, started to work immediately. While his captors were distracted, he spotted his utility belt full of supplies then snatched it. He then leapt to the ceiling, clinging to it with no effort as he moved swiftly out of the room in the cover of darkness. The other half, though, raced with questions that had no desirable answers. What am I doing? The answer to that was simple; he was meeting up with the Winter Soldiers, his programming dictated it. Why am I doing it? Another simple answer; because he had no choice, and his limbs kept moving despite his desire to avoid the other assassins at all costs. Am I in danger? His brain almost scoffed. Of course he was in danger, when wasn't he? Who poses more danger, the Avengers or the Winter Soldiers and, subsequently, his handlers? That... he didn't really have an answer to, desirable or not. On the one hand, the Avengers had been nothing but kind to him. On the other, he knew they would want something of him. People always wanted something from him, and he had no idea what they wanted. The other side of that would be the Winter Soldiers, and his handlers. He knew the Winter Soldiers probably didn't know of his precarious situation, or if they did, they didn't care. The orders likely still stood; they were likely to attack with him and return with him. It was his handlers he was worried about. As he scurried along the ceiling, he couldn't help but look at the arm that wasn't actually sticking to the ceiling but was pretending it could, since it wasn't working but was a subconscious effort. They knew he remembered. That was the scary thought.

As he dropped from the ceiling upon hearing another set of bombs going off, and the sound of scurrying feet, he couldn't stop his overactive thoughts from running rampant through his mind, despite the cool exterior. His mind had always been his safe haven, but as he became more aware of how things were, had also become something of a prison. He couldn't be tainted there, but he also couldn't leave. In a way, it was almost relieving that he no longer had to play the charade. Or at least, it would've been, had the charade not been the only thing keeping him from becoming a mindless drone. Now that the pretense was up, if he went back to his handlers, he was sure to be reprogrammed. The thought terrified him. Despite how long it had been since they had last touched up on him, his sharp mind recalled every detail vividly. The needles, the tests, the screaming, the lessons... he was sure he'd never forget. The unfortunate thing about having as great a memory as he had been trained to keep, was that it meant he retained everything. The good and the bad.

His thoughts were cut off by a sudden banging up ahead, and his feet rushed forward despite his unease, a hand automatically drawing out a long dagger. Spinning it to fit cleanly in his palm, he thrust it forward, directing it at the nearest foe's neck. He felt cool metal pressing against his scarred neck, and his cold eyes stared daggers as they met the empty gaze of one of the Winter Soldiers. They stood in a deadlocked silence for a few moments, before pulling away at the same moment. Peter felt himself asking a silent question; Have the orders changed?

The look he got in response was answer enough. No.

By the time any of them had gotten their bearings again, they were far too late in stopping Peter from leaving. For that matter, they had other things to occupy their thoughts. Namely, the cryptic message, and the sudden explosions. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Steve called out, "Everyone okay?"

This question was met with varying levels of positive agreement, though Natasha squinted her eyes through the dark, doing a mental head count. "The kid's missing."

Tony cursed under his breath, pulling up FRIDAY and having her run a scan of the building. What he saw didn't put him at ease. "Damn, he's right. The Winter Soldiers are back," he muttered, staring at the count and refreshing it numerous times just to be certain. The undeniable proof was there; FRIDAY had scanned them the last time they fought, and had honed in on their heat signatures. What worried him further was that what he could know discern was Peter's signature (FRIDAY had immediately entered in his information in earnest when he had been knocked out) was heading directly towards the soldiers. He watched in quiet apprehension as his dot and one of the Soldiers met up, then broke apart. "The kid's with them. He just joined up with one of them."

"Shit," Clint muttered. "That can't be good."

Wanda seemed to be lost in thought, and a quiet glow emerged in the twilight of the room. Her magic seemed to wander for a bit, brow furrowing and a complex expression adorning her features. "He was frightened earlier," she said, reminiscing on the feelings of terror she'd detected when he'd started tapping to them. She reached out with her magic towards the figure that was starting to become familiar to her abilities, and felt it quietly latch on. Her eyes widened in shock. "Oh."

Vision turned to her after having scanned the building himself, directing efforts to get the power back up with FRIDAY, but he was distracted back to the presence by Wanda suddenly squeezing his hand. He turned to her cautiously. "Wanda?"

Wanda let out a breath. "He's conflicted," she murmured, before fixing her knowing gaze on Bucky. Pursing her lips, she remarked, "He's still under the effects of the programming."

Understanding dawned in Bucky's eyes as his thoughts were distracted from his fear of the other Winter Soldiers. Turning, he remarked, "They're still under his skin. Of course." His eyes met the others. "They're all following the same orders. It would make sense that they're not killing each other. HYDRA doesn't want their assets at each other's throats." Just saying the word had him short of breath, and made him wince when in reference to the kid they'd met earlier. He would like to think he'd be willing to fight off the other Winter Soldiers without a care in the world, but he knew that was wishful thinking. A small part of him, the part that refused to let him forget he'd been in their service, still remembered that particular order to not interrupt the work of other assets and avoid fighting. Despite this reluctance instilled by many, many years under HYDRA's hands, a larger part of him knew he wouldn't let his newfound friends walk back into the line of fire, not if he could help it.

Scott shuffled where he stood, suit ready, thumb over the button in anticipation of leaping into action. "So... what do we do? He's gonna try killing us again if that command's still in his head."

Natasha seemed to be lost in thought, pacing the dark room she'd grown accustomed to and spinning a blade idly in her hands. With a frown, she turned to stare at the group as a thought crossed her mind. Turning to Bucky, she calmly queried, "Say, you were able to break out of the commands before, right? How'd you do it?"

Bucky frowned, then his mouth opened in quiet recollection. "I had to circumvent it. Either something had to come from my past, or... I had to be injured enough to jolt me back to reality. Hitting my head often worked."

With that thought in mind, the room became filled with discussion on their game-plan. When it was settled, a quiet grin had crossed Steve's face, and the Captain was silently proud that they were all working as a team once more, with the new additions to their rankings. When things had quieted down, he cleared his throat, slipping into his hero voice. "Alright, team. You know the plan. Let's make it work."

The Winter Soldiers had split up, from the occasional glimpses Peter caught of them as they patrolled the snaking hallways. He was on his own now, though he felt eyes on him constantly as a Winter Soldier would tail him for a bit, then disappear, only to be traded by another. He had a sinking feeling he knew why there was a sudden change in their demeanor. Chances were they'd been alerted of the situation. Weaver was a flight risk. There was the off chance that the programming would fail since he had enough sentience in him to avidly hide his free thought, and thanks to that, there was the chance that he wouldn't follow through with the command. If that were to happen, he'd likely run away. They couldn't allow that, Peter knew. He also knew that if he couldn't break away from the restricting programming, he was screwed. Regardless of how everything ended, short of being killed, the programming would have him go back to his handlers. And that would be the end. He couldn't allow that.

But how could he break away from the order? It was so ingrained to follow it, especially if it came from the whistle, that it subconsciously controlled his movements as if he were a puppet on a string. He hadn't ever had a reason or a motivation priorly to try and break it, but now, it was all he desperately and feverishly wished for. He didn't trust the Avengers; hell, he would honestly be surprised if he could ever trust again. But even they seemed to be far more appealing than going back to his handlers. Before, he would've been more torn. But now that they knew, Peter couldn't go back. That's why it frustrated him that, despite his knowledge, despite his intelligence, despite everything he had experienced as an assassin, he hadn't an inkling of a clue what would work enough to get the programming out of his head.

He was so lost in thought his body suddenly jerking to the side caught him off guard, and he stumbled a bit on his feet as he dodged the sudden attack. He felt his prosthetic arm swing out to strike back, and flinched at the sudden clanging of vibranium hitting vibranium. His eyes widened the tiniest fraction as his gaze met with Bucky's. He felt his other arm duck into the utility belt around his waist and fish out a sharp object as his other arm turned downward to direct the other man's arm down. He tried to twitch the armed arm out of the way, and his hesitance must've been readable on his face, since the former asset immediately backed off, still on the defensive. The sounds of battle waging around them came to his ears as he realized the other heroes were clashing with the Winter Soldiers.

"Peter!" Bucky called, snapping Peter out of his observation of his surroundings. Once his gaze fixed on the man, he added, "The programming is breakable!"

His body faltered at that as it had begun the next attack, causing him to come to a screeching halt where he caught himself from falling back redirecting his momentum, swinging his fist into the wall. It cracked under the pressure, splintering out from his hand where it had embedded into the thick reinforced materials. Once his momentum had stopped, he stared blankly at Bucky, trying to process the words even as his body tried jerking free. The programming was indeed breakable? He wasn't sure if he'd believe such a declaration from anyone else. But Mr. Barnes was the original Winter Soldier. He'd been under their hands, too. He would know better than anyone if it were possible to snap the code.

Seeing his pause, Bucky let out a breath. "For me, it was coming across old memories, or a strong enough blunt force trauma to force the body to forget the order. I don't think the former would help us here, but-"

Bucky was cut off from another abrupt swing from Peter, and the former leapt away as the latter instead spun to find the knife in his hand trying to fly from his hands and embed itself into T'Challa's shoulder. He redirected it last-minute to flip and narrowly graze the man's stubbled jaw as it found a home in the wall as well. He then felt his body leap to the wall and cling as he slid a bit, having significantly less traction with his prosthetic arm being relatively useless (he knew he shouldn't be using it, but his body still reacted with it instinctively, and he worried what kind of damage would befall the exposed internal wiring that was far more sensitive than the sturdy metal that protected it. He could hear it sparking slightly from the overuse his subconscious put on it, but he couldn't stop his body from still thinking the arm working. He watched as his absence was quickly filled by the other assets coming in to fight, and paused a moment to watch the conflict ensue.

Peter watched in quiet unease as the heroes fought the assassins. A part of his mind quietly whispered it was a battle between good and evil. Another part berated the other part of his mind for such a thought. There was no such thing as definitive good or definitive evil, just actions that could be deemed morally right or wrong by any party. But the part of him that had been desperately wishing for rescue for years insisted the Avengers were the heroes in this situation, and the Winter Soldiers the villains. The other part of him that had grown cynical queried where he fit into the equation. That was an answer he couldn't provide. He wanted to do good but was forced to be a killer. Did that make him evil? He didn't want to think so.

He felt his body bunch and prepare to leap back into the fray, when he was reminded of Bucky's words. Alright, so he needed a good dose of healthy bodily harm to break free of the programming. No biggie. Or at least, it wouldn't be, if not for the fact he'd become numb to physical harm that wasn't to his senses a long time ago. That... was definitely a problem. One that definitely needed to be rectified. As he jumped off the wall, his mind was racing, trying to come up with any way he could possibly hurt himself enough to break free. And then his eyes tracked Captain America's shield, and an idea formed in his head. Luckily, his body seemed to be of the same thought as he and his good arm lifted to catch the shield as it flew towards him, skidding on the ground slightly from the force of the device. Then, while the momentum from catching it was still going, and before his body could betray him, he thrust his arm upwards as hard as he could while simultaneously jerking his head downwards. The resulting clash was loud, and he felt the rattle down to the tips of his toes. His mind blanked for a second, before it was once more tempted to attack, and so, he quickly repeated the motion, and slumped against the wall as the shield dropped from his hands.

Warm liquid began to drip from his forehead, and he reached a hand up to cup it in mild shock. He blinked the stars out of his eyes, shaking his head to clear the fog and trying to get his gaze to focus and stop spotting at the edges. But when he felt something brush past him and pick up the shield, his only reaction was to jerk away. Upon spotting Captain America, he raised his good arm in defense, but felt nothing else. No desire to fight back, no need to kill. The sudden lack of bloodlust amazed the mutant, and he found himself staring with quiet amazement as he no longer felt the restricting presence of the command in his head. The moment didn't last, though, as he felt a fist drive itself in the space his head had been just a moment before. The hitman was thankful his instincts still hadn't failed him. The Winter Soldier seemed to scowl at him in disgust, and Peter got the impression that he'd just signed his death sentence.

He needed to get out. He needed out right now. With a breath, he raised his good arm out to snag the asset's arm and, using his superior strength, threw the man away from him. Then, he quickly scrambled to his feet, head reeling at the sudden motion and his vision swimming. However, he could already feel his vision straightening, and the cut on his forehead was starting to heal. That meant he wouldn't be dazed for long. He wasn't sure if the order would come back (he desperately wished it wouldn't), but what he did know was that he needed out. This was the opportunity to make a choice of his own. He could choose to go back with the other assassins. He could choose to stay with the heroes. That was what both sides wanted for him. But he'd never had a choice. And now that he did, he was carving his own path.

With that determination, he immediately began his assault, scrambling desperately to get out of the building. As he whizzed his way through the dark corridors, anything that moved to stop him was an obstacle to avoid. If it didn't attack him, he didn't attack it. But if it went to stop him with force, he was attacking back. Friend, foe, Avenger, Winter Soldier, it all blurred in his vision as he made his desperate escape. He could hear the calls, the pleas to stop, and could feel the silent anger of the fuming assets he once was a part of. He knew this meant war. He knew doing this would put his life at absolute jeopardy. He knew by fleeing he became the prey, the object of affection that two parties would be searching for. But he didn't care. This was the first choice he could recall making of his own volition for as long as he could remember, and it wasn't the smartest choice. It wasn't the most informed choice. Hell, was it even the best decision to throw himself into the line of fire?

He didn't know, and right now, didn't care. As he burst free of the dark building, into the open air, the breeze rushed past his exposed skin for the first time in ten and a half years. His eyes squinted in the sudden change of light, but it was no longer tinted by eye lenses. He could see uninhibited. His limbs no longer brushing against the familiar fabric of his uniform, the utility belt around his waist the only part of Weaver's outfit he had on him. His prosthetic arm hung limply to the side, and his bare feet caught on the pebbles, but he was free. Finally, finally out in the real world without an invisible chain around his neck. He had to admit, freedom tasted great.

A crashing sound from the building behind him jolted him back to reality. Right, he was running away. Of his own volition. Making his own choice. He couldn't help the giddy grin that flashed across his face, before it dropped back to the serious, neutral expression. As he ran away from the building, his head felt lighter, and his chest felt clearer. His conscience, for once, felt... alright. Not clear by any means. But, for once... it felt... like something in his life was right. Even if it was only for the moment. But that was alright. He might as well take the moment while the moment was good. He'd made his choice. Now he was going to live with it... although how long he'd live with it, he wasn't sure.

Only time would tell.

Sorry for being so quiet, I was taking a mental health break. I'm back from it now, though!

So I had a thought. I love writing, and I want to keep writing, but writing the same stories can get a bit dull and burn me out if I keep on it for too long, which is why I switch between which story I'm updating before updating the former one. With that in mind, I was thinking on taking on a few other projects in the interim to keep my muse and motivation up! So, what things would you guys like to see from me? What fandoms, topics, and stories would you guys want me to tackle? I won't tackle everything, since I probably will only pick something up if it appeals to me, but I'd like to see what you guys think! I'm a part of many, many different fandoms. (To list a few, Minecraft, Pokemon, Sanders Sides, Slime Rancher, My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia, Steven Universe (the movie comes out today and I'm so excited), Jurassic World, Slime Rancher, quite a handful of different YouTubers, and more.) While picking up more stories might space out updates on my current projects, it would keep me from being burned out and give you guys more content to read. I think it could be beneficial, but I want to know what you guys think.

Verinorina- I hope it's living up to your expectations, then. I've been excited to get to this point. It's gonna be fun going forward. :D

Heir of ice- Ah, thank you! I tend to have a bad habit of ending on cliffhangers, haha. I try to interject that with endings like this, though, that have a bit more... finality? I guess would be the phrasing. Thanks for the love! 3

Wisdom and Sea- Well, definitely could've updated sooner, but nonetheless it came! Haha, I'm excited for where we're going. It's gonna be a long fun ride!

Krakengirl- Honestly, Peter being confused is a mood. He warned them, and thankfully it turned out to be quite useful. Of course, neither side could really expect what choice he'd make, haha. The looks of confusion on their faces as he fled must've been priceless. It'll come, but it'll take a while. He's gotta learn to trust again, after all! And, well, some things probably will never heal, but improve. Thank you! I was considering what I did and didn't want to tackle, but as I was thinking on how I wanted things to go, I figured it would be far more beneficial (and fun) to include every film from the 3rd phase, especially the ones that most would skip over. I'm very excited to get to those parts, because they're gonna be oodles of fun. I can't wait to show you guys what I have in store for this series! :D

Gregary Fritsch- Unfortunately I'm at a point where that would be impossible to incorporate, since Natasha didn't recognize Peter and only knew that Peter was Mary's and Richard's son in association to his name and Nick knowing of him. If I wanted to do that, I would've had to have added an implication Natasha recognized him like Nick did. As for the godfather thing, the reason I personally chose that is because most iterations of Spider-Man I have seen (with his parents as SHIELD agents) usually did have Nick as either Peter's godfather or his mentor (and occasionally both), and I wanted to pay an homage to that if I was going to make Richard and Mary SHIELD agents here, too. :)

Next time on OWOW: The hunt for Peter Parker begins.

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