So I'm not exactly the most well-informed for how hearings of this nature would genuinely be conducted. However, I came to the realization that the circumstance and the change in what the world is would warrant there to be some probable unrealistic proceedings. Hopefully it's done well enough to suffice! :D
Also, as a note: I know in real life that there's 193 countries in the UN (with 195 recognized), but the Marvel universe has countries that don't exist in real life but do exist in the Marvel universe, and also doesn't have countries that exist in real life. The amount seems to differ between the comics and the MCU, but since this is based off of the MCU, I'm going with the amount of countries that are listed to exist in the MCU, which is 144. If it is wrong it's an easy enough fix. :)
Anxiety was buzzing strongly through Peter's veins as he wheeled into the foyer, where they would be gathering to head to the UN's Headquarters. It was an hour and a half long drive to the building, and since they were needed at ten, here he was, ready two and a half hours before the meeting that would determine his future would take place. Despite the appointment being at ten, and the drive being an hour and a half, they needed to leave a bit earlier to deal with traffic. Still, he could tell he was early; he was one of the first in the room.
The only other occupants in the room at the moment were Sam, Steve, and Bucky, since they'd already been up for their early-morning jog. They wore formal suits and ties, which happened to be the dress code from what Peter had been told. His hand idly reached to the tie around his neck and tugged at the knot, unimpressed by the formal attire but knowing it certainly wasn't the most uncomfortable thing he'd ever worn. Tony had helped, before vanishing, saying something about needing another cup of coffee to add to the two he'd already had. Noting the way the man's hand had shaken, Peter supposed the billionaire was as nervous as he was about what the UN would say.
Though, he supposed his worry was for an entirely different thing. If the former asset had to guess, they were worried about trying to keep him and presenting a justified argument in front of 144 different countries. For Peter, his worry stemmed from the resolution he'd come to the night before. He was, admittedly, having second thoughts to confessing. Admitting it would mean he could never take it back, and could never hide that part of himself again to anyone in the room. He'd held himself so tightly inside the vault of his mind for so many years that letting something so personal out of the cage was nearly enough to make him lose his breath. However, while his second-guessing was strong, the feeling of remorse was stronger. Despite his reservations, Peter knew he would never be capable of ignoring the guilt forever. This was his opportunity to let justice be dealt, even if it meant destroying what the Avengers were going to fight for, even if it meant throwing himself to the wolves.
Peter sat quietly off to the side, lost in his thoughts, hand idly adjusting the neatly folded and wrapped free sleeve on his right side that had been carefully tucked around the screw, so the empty piece of garment wouldn't trail annoyingly along his side. His senses dulled, and he watched mutely as the attending people slowly trickled into the foyer, all dressed formally. Wanda and Vision had wandered in at some point, and met up with Sam, Bucky, and Steve. Tony and Pepper were next, talking quietly. Rhodey ambled quietly into the room, his leg braces whirring softly. Natasha slunk in after Bruce, and Scott entered, talking on the phone with someone. He ended the discussion before pocketing the phone. T'Challa had already went on ahead, seeing as he was the Wakandan ambassador in the UN.
Time seemed to blur for the mutant as Nick Fury entered the building, with Faulers at his side. Both scanned the room, meeting each of their gazes (Peter averted his gaze from Faulers's, the twisting feeling in his gut growing stronger after seeing the man for the first time outside of their freedom), before everyone moved outside. They piled into three vehicles, with Peter getting some support in limping into the third vehicle while the wheelchair was settled into the back. Then they drove towards the building that would be the place his fate was determined.
He felt like fidgeting, and couldn't help the slight nervous tick that sprung itself up again. He found his hand rubbing idly at his right hip, since there was no arm there to rub and he'd already fiddled with the folded sleeve. His gaze was firmly affixed to the outside world, and Peter found his thoughts being broken by curiosity as they entered the city. Likewise with the Compound, he hadn't had the best time sightseeing and exploring New York priorly. He found himself wondering if he could spend a day or two out in the streets of the Big Apple, seeing what the world had to offer.
Don't count on it. The voice hissed quietly. You're confessing; they're more than likely going to punish us. We'd be lucky to see the light of day again after everything we did.
The idle thought of hope quickly diminished, and his face fell to neutral indifference again, once more dragged back to the inky depths of his mind. His gaze blankly raked over the passing landscape as they delved further into the city, approaching the UN Headquarters. The closer they got, the more a weariness settled into his bones, making his body feel like lead. A sudden exhaustion clung to his frame, and his hand stopped fidgeting, stilling and sitting in his lap. A quiet buzzing had grown louder from the back of his head, a sense of danger from his sixth sense that he hadn't felt in a few days. The return of the sensation had him sitting straighter, suddenly more alert, though he had no clue why it had suddenly spiked up. There shouldn't have been danger, from what his fatigued mind could comprehend.
Is the UN not the danger? The voice remarked softly. They have the option to make or break our future. They're the ones deciding whether we receive the repercussions of our murders, or whether our situation warrants another chance to make it better.
What are the chances of it being favorable? Peter idly wondered. 144 people will be deciding my fate. Those odds are too unreliable to expect unanimous agreement. Plus... in looking at what countries the UN has, we've been to all of them and taken at least a life. Murder isn't exactly legal in any country, especially on such a scale. His head ended up lightly pressed to the window as the UN Headquarters entered view. The sinking feeling in his stomach grew stronger. Maybe with my confession, they'll lighten up on the punishment. You think we could get a mercifully quick death sentence?
Unlikely. The voice chimed. Especially if they figured out death is something you'd welcome with open arms. We're not likely to be revived again. It would be the easy way out for the blood on our hands.
Peter swallowed thickly as they came upon the building. There's no way they wouldn't give me a death sentence with the amount of kills that are tied to my name... right? They... they wouldn't keep me alive and imprisoned if they convicted me of the crimes. Then they'd be just like H- them. Wouldn't they?
Ross was the former United States ambassador, was he not? The voice brought up as the car pulled to a halt in a parking space. He was the one who orchestrated the entire thing. Who's to say he didn't have friends in the UN that knew? They were able to stay hidden for years. I doubt all of them are gone. If any of them are still lurking in the UN, they would want to take you back with them.
Peter was helped out of the car as the wheelchair was placed down, and he settled into the device. They had met up with the others, and they were all talking, but he couldn't focus on what was being said through his growing paranoia. I-I wouldn't allow myself to be used again. I... I had no choice before-hand. I had no one. I... I have the Avengers this time. They... they want to keep me, right? They'll... they'd protect me!
Aren't you going to confess for us? The voice shot back flippantly. You're going to be directly opposing their argument. Will they even want to back you up after such an ungrateful maneuver?
Peter's eyes narrowed slightly as he moved the wheelchair forward. Weren't you the one that convinced me to spill my guts?
We both know the guilt would've eaten you alive. The voice dismissed. Besides, the only one you have to blame is yourself. I'm your coping mechanism. I'm not real. I was just a mask you wore to protect yourself. I still want to protect you. But I can't oppose what you want. I'm part of you, after all. You're the one in control now.
They were now approaching the doors to the room they would be adjourning in. Peter's frame was trembling slightly, and his flesh was wrapped in goosebumps. Despite this, his mind fixated on the end of his mental discussion. Great talk, as always, Weaver, his mind snarked.
You're welcome, Peter.
The courtroom was large, and filled to the brim with people. They were the last to arrive. It seemed like the room wasn't meant to hold so many people, but they were making do, with chairs haphazardly set up around the room to accommodate the ambassadors. There was a long podium on an elevated stage that looked like it could hold three judges. A chair had been set out for him, but it was placed to the side so his wheelchair could go into the spot, instead. His spot felt rather isolated in the center of the room, purposefully designed to have him be the epicenter of everyone's attention. Even though the Avengers were only a few feet behind him, it did little to comfort him when he could see and feel the eyes of the other 141 people in the room.
From what Peter could pick up from the murmurs, this was an abnormal hearing, even for the UN's standards. He supposed he could've felt flattered that they were bending their own formalities just for him, but instead it reminded the former asset that they had all wanted to be there to decide his fate and changed the rules to be present in the hearing of a mass murderer. It made his skin crawl, and he couldn't help the shivers that kept running down his flesh from all the gazes fixated on his form. He nervously tucked himself further into the crook the wheelchair provided in a futile attempt to shrink away from the judging stares.
"Is that him?" A woman whispered off to the side in a thick accent. "I wasn't expecting a kid."
"That's him, all right." A man responded in a more controlled accent. He could feel the man's gaze crawl along his skin. "Can't believe Thaddeus used a child. How despicable."
"So this is the killer?" A voice huffed disdainfully off to the other side. "Are we sure we were given the right information? There's no way he could've done it. Look at him, he's in a wheelchair."
"Can't believe this is the infamous Weaver." Another voice chimed. "The kid doesn't even look like he could hurt a fly, let alone kill that many people."
"Peter Parker, was it?" Came the murmur. "Poor kid, losing his family and then being forced to murder."
"Don't be fooled." The reply was bitter. "A murderer is a murderer. Look at him; if he fooled HYDRA with their act, who's to say he doesn't enjoy killing and is just trying to use his age against us?"
"Weaver, huh? They must be crazy." "Is this who was really responsible for the murder of my friend? I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen the evidence." "Are we really going to put a minor through the legal system?" "Murder is still murder, regardless of the age."
Peter desperately wished his enhanced hearing would stop, sometimes. The words were catching and swirling inside of his head, adding to the suffocating ink. The more whispers he heard from the gathered people, the more the noise added to the static and piled onto the guilt.
"The kid was probably forced to." Well, sort of. "The only one left from them that we know of is him. One of our own betrayed us. I say we let him be the scapegoat." Was he always going to be thought of as one of them? "Who knows what danger he could be to society now that he's uncontrolled?" They said that like he's some sort of monster. "Once a killer, always a killer." It wasn't his fault these instincts were there. "Would he even be able to fit into human society? He was a mutant raised to kill. Maybe this entire thing is pointless." It wasn't his fault he was born with these powers. He didn't ask for them. He hadn't wanted them. He never ever wished to have these urges.
Maybe they're right. Weaver hummed at the back of his thoughts, loud through the static. They're making you sad, though. I don't like that.
I don't need your protection right now, Weaver. Peter shot back. I can... I can handle their comments. Please, let me handle it.
The internal discussion was interrupted by the three judges filing into the room. Everyone stood, and noting this, Peter tried to, as well. What he ended up having to settle with was a somewhat awkward crouch, leg bent straight out while his other, footless leg propped against the other side of the wheelchair's legs. His arm held his weight upright, and he used some of his sticking to keep himself as straight as he could with his limited resources. Blinking, he was surprised to find that T'Challa was designated as one of the judges. He didn't recognize the other two, but part of his worry ebbed away, seeing one of them being in an influencing seat.
They reached the seats at the podiums, and the one in the middle, a balding elderly man, stepped forward. Making sure the microphone worked, he grumbled into it, "You may sit," in a thick Russian accent. Slowly, everyone sat, and Peter released his sticking, trying and barely managing to slip back into his seat with some grace.
The woman off to the left side seemed to be holding a lot of files that she spread to the other judges. She then leaned closer to her own microphone and stated, "The United Nations is convening today to address a matter of personal interest to the governments present. As such, the current hearing is unconventional to normal standards. It is still being recorded for future record, however, just as other hearings." She adjusted the folders in front of her. "Three nations were chosen to be the final word on the verdict. Mr. T'Challa of Wakanda, Mr. Glazkov of Russia, and myself, Ms. Collins, representing the United States as the chosen ambassador in the wake of Thaddeus Ross's passing."
With the formalities put to the side, it seemed it was time to get straight to the point. Mr. Glazkov adjusted his glasses before murmuring, "We are here today for the hearing of one Mr. Peter Benjamin Parker." He opened one of the folders on his part of the podium, before continuing, "Who stands accused of executing 231 assassination missions for the former terrorist association known as HYDRA. Along with several recorded instances of arson and robbery, said person is responsible, by record and evidence, for 583 murders, with an additional 28 after leaving HYDRA's services, and assisted in the deaths of 35 individuals, including Ambassador Thaddeus Ross, in Siberia two weeks ago."
Peter could feel the tension in the air increase with that being spoken as the assembled UN members were reminded of that, and he could hear the shock from the assembled Avengers behind him. He internally winced. He supposed the files they had originally been given either hadn't included the total count, or they had just assumed it to be a lesser amount. The mutant himself wasn't shocked by the revelation; it was all he could do to not think about the 583 deaths tied to his name. Even though two thirds of them had done terrible things and had criminal records, the guilt still ate at him for being the one to do them in.
T'Challa adjusted the files he had as well, before speaking up, "However, the situation is complicated." He opened one of the folders, before adding, "As given to us by Agent James Faulers of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, there is also indisputable proof that Mr. Peter Benjamin Parker was kidnapped, tortured, and forced into committing each crime attached to his name and the name of the alias HYDRA designated him, Weaver." The man adjusted his microphone before finishing, "Therefore, the presented issue is as follows: Mr. Peter Parker was a victim of circumstance that committed a substantial and indisputable amount of crimes spread over the course of seven and a half years in all 144 recognized countries of the United Nations. Since this is a hearing, all parties present may make a case as to whether Mr. Peter Benjamin Parker should be convicted of the crimes attached to his alias or whether the circumstance warrants leniency."
"The members present may now make their case on what the fate of Mr. Peter Parker may be." Ms. Collins concluded.
"With all due respect, is this debate inherently necessary?" A British man stood, calmly adjusting his tie. "The presented issue shares many marked similarities to the resolved case of Mr. James Buchanan Barnes, which was concluded two months ago. Would it not be in the best interest of the United Nations to present Mr. Peter Benjamin Parker the same verdict?"
The Afghanistan representative stood up, a distrusting scowl on his features. "84 people of my country, 53 of which were men, 30 of which were women, and one of which was a child, were targeted and slaughtered by Ross's agenda." His gaze fixed on Peter, a distrusting look in his eyes. "And from what the records stated, Mr. Parker was raised under that agenda. I cannot trust that Mr. Parker will leave behind the violence he was conditioned to follow. It is hard for one to break free of the way they were nurtured. I am not willing to risk it. In honor of the unfortunate victims, I propose Mr. Parker be brought to justice."
The conversation evolved from there, and with it, the gathered people became more agitated. The argument volleyed on both sides, ranging from the dismissive ("We have rehabilitated murderers before, and Mr. Barnes is the best present evidence that such a situation is recoverable. He is a minor; he should be granted the chance to integrate into society. Is this not enough to warrant the self-defense law?"), to the neutral ("The lives of the citizens in my country that were lost to his hands were unfortunate, but the situation itself is also unfavorable. If Mr. Parker wishes to be better then the chance should be granted; otherwise, he stands as a safety risk."), to the vengeful ("I don't care what the circumstance was, Mr. Parker still committed the crime. There has to be a line drawn between self-defense and purposeful instigation. He may have went along with it because HYDRA made him, but that implies that he willingly went through with all of the murders. He was with them for ten and a half years, and active for seven and a half. There is a very large chance that he became numb to the killing, which means he is likely to be prone to violence. The risk factor is too great for a person of his abilities.").
In likewise fashion, however, it was also bordered by the Avengers adding their two-cents to the discussion; namely what they had learned of Peter and his personality through the limited time they spent with the assassin. The most adamant voice was Tony, seeing as he had spent the most time with the asset, and whenever an argument would arise that questioned his morality, Tony would step in ("Yes, the kid was responsible for all of that. But I've spent time alone with Peter, and I can say without hesitation that I never felt in any danger around him, even though we've been in positions where he could have done something if he genuinely desired to. He's a good kid deep down. He just needs to be given a chance to prove it."), followed closely by Natasha. Wanda was quieter in her support, but was also one of the few who could get the room to listen to what she was stating. Given her abilities, it was well-known and respected that she was a trust-worthy source for discerning the intentions and thoughts of a person.
As the conversation had unfolded, the cold feeling that he had felt earlier had settled on him like a weighted blanket, threatening to drag him down into the dark depths of his mind. He was conflicted as the arguments were presented, finding merit in the ones defending him and agreeing with the ones against him. The part of him that had longed for freedom and the life he had once had had lifted its head and was aching for everything HYDRA to just be let go and sent away. That part of him yearned for a second chance, clung desperately to the thought that, if the opportunity presented itself, he could leave the past fourteen years behind and start anew.
That side was greatly contested by the part of him that had accepted his fate long ago, that had realized with total finality that he would never be free of the torment. That part of him refused to let go of the injustice that had been dealt to him for so many years. It had already acknowledged that there was nothing left to fix, that he was too broken, and that there was no use in trying. That voice wanted him to just confess his willing commitment to the assassinations and accept whatever punishment came for taking so many lives.
But a third thought lingered in the background, veiled by the two more prominent thoughts. It was one filled with unchecked anger and resentment that had been boiling underneath the surface for years, and was once again rearing its head in light of the circumstances. It was one that was tired of letting others choose his fate, one that had long since been fed up with the lack of freedom. It was born of instincts, repressed emotions, and the dangerous impulses that had been laced into his mind's wiring. It longed to let loose, to lash out, to take out the anger at the universe for his deplorable luck at anyone and everyone around. And as the debate on his fate ensued, the ink had grown, plagued by the realization that this situation was too similar to the one he'd been stuck in for the last ten and a half years for his comfort.
The debate had gone on long enough. "Excuse me." Peter tried, but it came out the same broken quiet it had been previously.
He frowned, shifting in the wheelchair, and decided to try it again, straining to make his voice louder. "Excuse me."
Still, it wasn't very loud, and it broke easily. He was now beginning to really hate not being able to speak much louder. With a huff of curbed frustration, he scanned his person to see if he had anything that could help garner their attention. He would've used his phone had he had it on his person, but he'd forgotten it in the car. He debated standing, but wasn't in the mood to fall flat on his face. His gaze drifted down to the folded pant leg of his left leg, and decided that would have to do. He leaned forward to unfold and roll the cloth away from the metal plate and screw embedded at the bottom of his left leg, drawing some attention from the quieter watchers. Once it was unearthed, he grit his teeth, knowing it would hurt. He then angled his leg and jabbed it down against the hard floor repeatedly, a metal ringing coming from the plate.
A wave of pain traveled down his leg as the metal plating shook, but he kept hitting it against the ground until he heard the conversation die down. Once it had, he winced as he drew the leg back in, setting it tentatively back down where it was. He now had the undivided attention of the room, the arguments broken and interrupted by the loud banging. Seeing that he had their attention, the anger slipped through his fingers, replaced more prominently by his nervousness. Now that he had their attention, though, it couldn't be taken back. He took a breath.
"I did it," He huffed, the feeling of guilt overwhelming his thoughts. "I did all of it." He didn't care that his voice was quiet, or that it was breaking; he just did his best to project it. "Every single death was willingly executed by me."
Peter's throat was beginning to hurt from his voice being raised, but he didn't care. It hurt more to keep it pent up. "I was conscious for all of them. I remember them all." His breathing was starting to pick up pace, and he could feel some of his frustrations bubble through his words. "To save my skin, I killed them." The dark storm of his thoughts became a hurricane in his head, swirling out all his pent-up misery and guilt. His hand clenched his pants tightly, and he could feel a flush creep up his neck. "I-I didn't have to do it willingly. But I did. And I can't get it out of my head."
His hand now gripped the side of his head, and he tuned out the rest of the room, consumed by his thoughts. "Their blood is on my hands and I can't get rid of the stain. They didn't deserve to die, at least not to me. But they did and it never got punished. I-I did a terrible thing and nothing happened. Their lives were worthless to them." He was downright hyperventilating at that point, his senses muffled and narrowing in, on the verge of tears. "They died for nothing. I-It can't be taken back. None of them deserved it. I don't deserve mercy." His head lifted shakily, and he choked out in closing, voice barely holding on, "They didn't get a second chance, so neither should I. I plead guilty. To every single crime."
He swallowed thickly, and lost his voice, so he closed his mouth and sat back. He didn't know when he'd leaned forward. His body was overrun by visible tremors, and his teeth chattered violently. The cold feeling was back and all-encompassing, sucking at his breath, dulling his thoughts. Despite the chill, he could feel his hand was clammy, and he barely resisted the urge to tug at the tie around his neck that had begun to feel like it would choke him. The guilt was all he could think about, his mind full to bursting with memories of blood and tears, etched into the brain tissue like hieroglyphs. Yet, despite feeling like he was drowning underneath the weight of it all, a small mercy bloomed at the back of his thoughts that he clung onto like a life raft in the stormy sea of ink; relief that he had confessed, and with it, the notion that maybe, just maybe, he would finally get the just desserts that had come for his oppressors, and be doled out the justice that was warranted for the loss of 583 souls.
It was why he was caught off-guard when he was asked, "Were you not in the same situation, Mr. Parker?"
What? He raised his head, eyes fixing on Ms. Collins. His throat hurt like hell and he didn't think he could muster the strength to force his raw throat to choke out the words, but his confusion was evident; brow furrowed, shoulders tense, a deep frown on his face. What had she meant by the question?
Noting his confusion, Ms. Collins continued, "The panel is very aware of your involvement, Mr. Parker. But as you stated yourself, you did it to save yourself," she stared at one of the open folders. "It has been well-noted that you were forced into the situation. The fact that you retained your identity throughout the ordeal is, frankly, impressive, Mr. Parker." She closed the folder, before looking Peter directly in the eyes. "Mr. Parker, we have the evidence that you were kidnapped, tortured, and forced to commit the crimes to preserve yourself. Would that not place you in the same situation as the deceased as an unwilling victim?"
Peter's mouth felt dry. This... wasn't what he was expecting. He was expecting that his confession would be followed by the conclusion of the hearing. He was expecting that he would be convicted and sentenced. He was expecting that he would never leave the room a free man. Why was she entertaining that notion? He couldn't grasp why that train of thought was relevant. He killed them. What situation he was in shouldn't have mattered; they were dead and he was the one who killed them. So why? Why was it being brought up?
Mr. Glazkov adjusted his glasses. "There is a system in place for people who were in high-risk situations called the self-defense law, which is recognized by the United Nations. The law requires the response to match the level of the threat in question. In other words, a person can only employ as much force as required to remove the threat. In the situation where the threat involves deadly force, the person defending themselves is allowed, under that law, to use deadly force to counteract the threat." He straightened his folders. "This point was brought up and re-iterated during the proceedings, in the event that you missed it, Mr. Parker." His gaze fixed the teenager with an unreadable expression. "And it was determined that the law would, theoretically, be applied in the event that you did not desire to commit the crime."
Peter felt shocked, his fingertips buzzing. He was beginning to regret tuning the conversation out; when had that been brought up? His frown deepened, further, when he realized where this thread might be going, before his gaze widened as he processed what Mr. Glazkov had last stated. In confessing, he had also confessed that he hadn't wanted to do it whatsoever. His intent had been to sway them to convict him, but in the process had inadvertently opened up a new option entirely. An expansive self-defense claim.
"The same law was granted in favor of Mr. Barnes when his hearing was held, supported by evidence. However, it was also backed by a specialized condition; he would be released of the crimes he committed under HYDRA, so long as the Avengers would cooperate with the United Nations whenever a world-wide threat would arise." T'Challa remarked, before letting his gaze peruse the room. "A similar action can be followed through to satisfy both arguments."
The room erupted in low murmurs of speculation at what the judges had in mind. Ms. Collins spoke, next, face unreadable. "Mr. Parker still committed the murders, but has confessed to feeling remorseful. Evidence exists to support that a self-defense ruling can be made. However... due to the nature of the situation, it cannot be denied that Mr. Parker could still be prone to violence and succumb to killing outside of this room." She turned to stare at her fellow judges, moved away from the microphone, and began discussing quietly with Mr. Glazkov and T'Challa, who did similarly.
Throughout the duration of the hearing, they had taken note of the points made on both sides to make a fair, unbiased decision. Peter could've listened in to what they were discussing, but his senses were still scrambling to keep up with the change of events in the wake of his confession and panic. They spoke between themselves for a few minutes, before turning back to face the room. Mr. Glazkov spoke. "A verdict has been reached that all three judges can agree to." His gaze wandered around the room before eventually settling on Peter. Peter felt himself freeze under that gaze as he waited, breathless, for the words that would seal his fate.
"With consideration to the situation, it has been decided that Mr. Peter Benjamin Parker will be granted a three year probationary period, until he becomes a legal adult in the United States, his country of origin. During this probationary period he will be given the opportunity to be rehabilitated. While the probationary period is active, he will be under the watch of the Avengers and SHIELD. Since Mr. Parker is a minor with no living relatives, his primary care will be entrusted to Mr. Anthony Stark, who will be granted full temporary guardianship of Mr. Parker for as long as the probationary period persists, or until temporary guardianship is no longer desired, whichever comes first. In the event that Mr. Anthony Stark is not around to provide guardianship, however, a designated person or persons of Mr. Stark's choosing may provide guardianship temporarily. The Avengers and SHIELD will also be granted such privileges for the duration of his stay." He paused to clear his throat, before continuing, "Upon the passing of his 18th birthday, the United Nations will convene once more. If Mr. Parker has sufficiently rehabilitated enough to illustrate to the panel that he can become a functioning member of society, with provided evidence, the charges against his person will be dropped and he will be granted full citizenship status. However, if it becomes evident at any point during the three year probationary period that Mr. Parker is a threat to the welfare of innocent civilians through unwarranted violence and death, with indisputable evidence, so as to avoid false claims, he will be promptly put on trial and convicted of the crimes, of which a new decision will be made."
They weren't finished, however, it seemed, as T'Challa delivered the finishing statement. "Given his enhanced status, if Mr. Parker expresses the desire to use his abilities for the purpose of hero work, he may be allowed to do so, as long as the United Nations, SHIELD, and the Avengers are made aware of the choice. Use of his enhanced abilities will not be restricted so long as Mr. Parker is being monitored and nothing of harm comes from their use. If Mr. Parker desires to share the abilities in a safe manner, it is not something the United Nations will be involved in." A small smile tugged at the corners of his lip. "The United Nations will coordinate with the Avengers and SHIELD as necessary to help with the rehabilitation process of Mr. Parker. Discussion of HYDRA and his past identity of Weaver, the probation, and the verdict will not be made public knowledge for the duration of the probation, and will only become public in the event that Mr. Parker is convicted of the crimes. Non-disclosure agreements will be filled out and retained with the files in this building and will be kept for all three years of the probation. That is all."
Peter was reeling, in a state of disbelief, as the judges stood and bowed. He hadn't bothered to stand since he couldn't, but it didn't seem to be expected of him. The judges left, and with their departure, the room broke out in conversation once more as people began filing out. He was numb to it all, the verdict still ringing through his ears.
He had three years to prove himself, to showcase that he genuinely wanted to be better. He had three years to make a case for himself, to show the world that he was his own person, and that he could move past his past. Peter was granted three years of extra time to decide his own fate. It was so unbelievably unexpected that the mutant could barely process that he had been granted a second chance. Admittedly, it wasn't the most freeing second chance, but Peter found that he didn't really care. It satisfied the guilt that had been tearing through his fragile mind like paper. He wasn't being let off easy; he had to earn his place, to give those deaths meaning.
For the first time, his future was in his hands.
Peter was determined to not take it for granted.
I had y'all worried for a second there, didn't I?
I.D.'s Fantasy- Guilt is a nasty thing that does some nasty stuff to the brain. Thanks though :D
merendinoemiliano- Well, this is a series after all! I can't wait to show y'all. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you, too!
Krakengirl- I am, thanks! I was able to take a nice rest and get my motivation back. :D
Next time on OWOW: Peter gets to see how the rest of his life might start looking like.
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