Okay, I confess. I changed my mind. I may have gotten too excited. This chapter was really difficult to write at the beginning, because I didn't really know how to write it. Then I had a revelation, and I couldn't stop anymore. So… I cut the chapter in two. It gives me more time to concentrate on the second half, that isn't completed yet.
Your attention please, dear readers, I tried a new point of view: Peter's. I hope you'll find it well written! Strangely, it was more difficult to write than Tony's point of view. But, hey, I have to adapt to the different characters and their personalities, it's a true challenge and that's one of the most fascinating thing when writing!
Huge thanks to Complicated-little-Jellie, kydh10, Beasttamer99, karen potter 97, sonicxjones, poohbear123, shizune19, MsDaHedgehog, AndurilofTolkien, ryelol, shaycalvert03, kushio3, Aparecium Inkwell and bernadetteburns for adding this story to their alert and/or favorite list!
And special thanks to gammathetaalpha, kushio3, AndurilofTolkien, Fan02, poohbear123, sonicxjones, Marshmallow016 and Guest for their lovely reviews! You guys are awesome and made my day a thousand times better!
Enjoy!
-000-
Being a Stark had a lot of advantages. But it also brought an equal amount of problems.
000
Peter stretched in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, as he sighed slightly. He was currently in a school bus in direction of the Bronx Zoo, at the north of the city, obviously sitting next to Ned. It was a visit that their geology and biology teachers had organized, and he had to admit that, despite his being exhausted, he was quite excited. Even Flash, who was as irritating as ever, didn't manage to tarnish his eagerness.
"Hey, Parker!" He had shouted a few moments ago. "What is it like, to come back home? Do you think we're going to see macaques? They're your cousins, right?"
"Be quiet, Flash, and leave me alone," Peter had answered unintelligibly.
It had made the other teenager snicker, regardless of the teachers' scolding, delighted that the so-called intern from Stark Industries couldn't find a better reply. Actually, the latter couldn't be less interested by the other's taunts. He was mainly trying to take advantage of the drive to sleep a little, so he could feel at his best during the visit.
Last night had been harsh, and he had gotten home later than intended. He'd thought he would simply have to patrol without having to intervene, in his new costume, thanks to Mister Stark who had been nice enough to make him a whole new suit in less than a day so he could keep on protecting the city. The cloth was more comfortable than ever, and he would have loved to wander lazily in the city for a couple of hours, swinging between skyscrapers with his webs, if there hadn't been so much work to do that night. It was like every robbers and burglars had agreed to operate this night, overburdening the police officers (and the super-hero). It was a Thursday, which was usually one of the most peaceful days of the week, and yet, at eleven in the evening, Spider-Man had already stopped three groups of robbers, two thieves awfully tedious to handle, and he had even prevented two car accidents.
He had even hoped, for a moment, that Captain America would appear from out of nowhere to give him a hand, despite his knowing it was one of his childhood dreams that had made think of this. He would have loved fighting alongside one of his heroes, instead of fighting against him. He couldn't even imagine combating with the whole Avengers, together, at his side! If this was to happen someday, which he was hoping with all his heart, he would probably be unable to concentrate two minutes without lapsing into euphoria about his extraordinary allies. Which would totally ridicule him.
But he hadn't gotten any help, and if he did handle everything greatly like an accomplished super-hero, he also got home, exhausted, at two in the morning, praying that May hadn't realized anything.
Fortunately for him, this was what happened, and he didn't got any punishment because May had fallen asleep way before his usual curfew, and had thus thought her nephew had respected the constraint. Maybe it was a bit too late to tell her the truth, now.
Unfortunately for him, he had to get up sooner for the school trip, and had only slept for about four little hours.
Peter groaned, and rubbed his eyes as he yawned with difficulty. Ned gave him a worried glance.
"Dude, was it really that intense?"
"You have no idea. I swear, it was like every criminal had agreed to choose this date out of the others. I thought I was going to get crazy."
"You pulled an all-nighter?"
"No, I guess it could have been worse. I just hope it'll be calmer the next couple of days. I don't think I'll be able to stand another night with this same rhythm of crimes."
His friend had the kindness, in spite of his legendary eloquence, not to talk too much so he could let the other teen grab a few more minutes of precious sleep. His head resting against the glass regardless of the reverberations that hindered him, he was starting to doze off when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He took it, frowning, and stared longingly the phone number that was displayed on the screen and gaped at the realization of who was currently calling him.
"Peter," his best friend breathed in wonder, leaning his head over his friend's shoulder and looking as amazed as him. "Is that… is that him? Like, for real?"
"I think so," the other boy whispered.
"Whoa… that's so cool. Do you think he's calling you because of this night? Oh, sorry, man" Ned added in an excited murmur, having just received an alarmed look from his friend, asking him to be more discreet. "But, what are you waiting for? Answer him!"
Peter rolled his eyes in amusement, a mimic that weirdly reminded of the person who was presently trying to join him. He took the call.
"Hey, Mister Stark," the super-hero in training greeted. Is everything alright?
"I was going to ask you the same question kid," his mentor retorted, panting, as if he was struggling to catch his breath. "You sure took your sweet time to answer this call."
"O-oh, I'm sorry. I'm in the school bus, it was a bit difficult to answer right away."
He was well aware it was an absolutely ridiculous excuse. But he couldn't exactly imagine having to explain to his idol he had stayed stunned in bliss in front of his phone screen, as he tried to digest the fact that his hero in person was calling him. He felt himself blush, and heard Flash's heavy steps too late. The latter, curious because of the name he had heard from his victim, had approached him like a predator. Ned, bless him, tried to prevent him from reaching Peter by improvising a role of human shield, but the arrogant teenager managed to dodge past him, pushed him bluntly and wrested the phone from the secretly enhanced teen, a smug and mocking smile on his lips. Peter exclaimed:
"Flash! Give it back!"
"Come on, Parker," the latter goaded, waving his trophy in the air, "don't tell me you're still trying to make someone believe you really got accepted as an intern for Stark Industries? Dude, you got to change your tactic, because it's the lamest attempt I've ever-"
"… Flash, I believe? Is that your real name? Unfortunately, I can't exactly say I appreciated in any way your interruption. I'm quite sure I wished to speak to my intern, not to you, Mister… Thompson."
It was a moment that Ned and him would remember for a long, very long time. Flash froze, his arm still holding the phone up, and his mouth gaping. His gaze, staring at Peter, slowly got up to the object where Tony Stark's voice had just resonated from. He lowered it as if it was suddenly the most precious thing in the world. Maybe that, to him, it was. He stammered, astonished:
"Y-yo-your… your intern?"
"Didn't I make myself clear enough? I'd like to speak to Mister Parker. Please give his phone back right now."
The expression on Flash's face was priceless. He tossed the phone to his owner instantly, scrutinizing him as if it was the first time he truly saw the teenager. Peter averted his gaze to concentrate on the explication he was going to give the billionaire.
"Sorry, Mister Stark, it was… uh, it was one of my classmates."
"Yeah, I think I understood this, Mister Parker," the genius mocked gently from the other side of the phone line. It looks like you two are getting along wonderfully well."
He didn't seem to be mad at him. Peter let a relieved smile appear on his face, and he ignored the insistent gazes of his classmates, who had got entirely quiet after Flash's intervention, in a futile attempts to listen to the conversation. Wondering why his mentor was calling him, he voiced:
"You have no idea. So, did you need me for something, Mister Stark?"
"Oh, I just wanted to be sure you were on a field trip, today.
"That's right," the boy answered, feeling confusion and even a certain discomfort invading his mind. "Why?"
"Just like that. I wasn't sure, so I wanted to ask you directly. So, now I know I won't see you today, right? You'll make up for your internship work later."
"Alright, Sir."
"Good. Have a nice day, kid."
And the call ended. The teen, still bewildered, blinked as he peered at his phone, almost expecting another call. He stowed it way a few seconds later, and then remembered he wasn't alone. He looked up, and suddenly had to support the other students' dumbstruck looks. He only received a glance full of pity from Ned before he got assaulted by a multitude of questions. If the whole zoo visit was going to be that intense because of his comrades' enthusiastic interrogations, then the day was going to be awfully long.
But the thing that bothered him the most was the bad feeling he couldn't manage to chase away from his mind.
000
Panic attack successfully avoided, Tony thought in visible relief. He posed carelessly his phone on a table, and turned towards his desk.
He had really thought his heart stopped beating when he had received this picture while he was working on a random project. He was almost sure he had heard F.R.I.D.A.Y talking somewhere above his head, but, in all honesty, he hadn't really payed attention, and instead he had thrown himself on his mobile phone.
Peter had thus left with his class to the zoo across town, and this Flash's interfering had at least the advantage to prove it wasn't a lie or trickery. He obviously did trust his protégé, but being able to talk to him to check if he was alright had made him feel better. Moreover, the kid was apparently unaware of what was happening. It was better this way, actually. He would be able to deal with this situation without incident, and maybe even without worrying the boy, which was undoubtedly a plus.
The inventor squinted slightly as he observed the screen in front of him. A blurred photo was displayed on it, representing a silhouette wearing a Spider-Man suit, and he had to admit it was quite an accurate suit compared to the original one because he had seriously thought for a few seconds that it was Peter. The body was tied to a chair, with their head dangling. A sign, on which was written an address, was resting on the floor at their feet.
"So it's definitely not Underoos."
"That is correct, Sir," F.R.I.D.A.Y affirmed. You had no reason to worry."
"Oh no, F.R.I, that won't work with me. Don't tell me you're upset?"
"I'm not sure about whether I possess the ability to feel insulted, Sir."
"We both know that, if we're considering your sass and your capacity to look for the least flaw in my orders to deflect them in order to, I quote, act for my well-being, then you're totally able to feel offended. Are you pouting?" The forty-year-old snickered.
"It seemed to me that I had confirmed Mister Parker had been localized thanks to his suit," the artificial intelligence retorted, "which he had taken with him for his field trip. But you didn't listen, and absolutely wanted to call him."
"Okay," Tony confessed, "I may or may have not slightly freaked out."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Boss."
"Stop sassing me and let's go back to work. We have a case all the more urgent to take care of. Could it be a trap then?"
"The probability that this photo would lead to a pitfall is of eighty-seven per cent, Sir."
"What about the thirteen per cent left?"
"According to my estimations, there are still a probability of seven per cent for a real hostage close to being executed, another, about this picture being falsified, of five per cent, and finally there remain a risk of one per cent that a person had been confounded and captured instead of the true target. The picture quality is extremely bad. I need more time to analyze it, and I have no certitude about being able to obtain more information. I couldn't trace the picture to its sender."
"Hum. In any case, someone wants to lure me there. Where's the appointment?"
"It is located ten thousand five hundred and eighty feet south west of your current location."
"Interesting."
He stayed quiet for a moment, examining with attention the map that F.R.I.D.A.Y had just made appear, detailing with precision the place indicated by the sign, as well as the surroundings.
"I withdraw what I just say," he mumbled. "It's everything but interesting. There's unquestionably nothing there. Well, only empty and abandoned warehouses. How original… It's like we're in a very bad action movie. We only need first price suits and explosions everywhere. I don't even want to go and have a look."
"I strongly advise against going by yourself."
"I know, that would be the worst idea I could even think of. But I'll still have to investigate on what's happening in these warehouses and why they gave me this address. What about sending the Mark 47 there?"
"It would indeed be a more prudent solution."
"Let's do this, then. I want a live broadcast of what the armor see and hear, capisce?"
He didn't perceive any answer. He looked up, frowning, and demanded:
"F.R.I.D.A.Y?"
"Yes, Sir?"
"Didn't you listen to what I say? Wait. You're supposed to hear everything. What's wrong?"
"My apologies. It would appear that a malfunction occurred in my data base. I am currently trying to determine its origin, Sir."
"Goodness."
Tony took his head into his hands, forcing himself to exhale deeply, while waiting anxiously for the android to give him more details. First, there was this picture, then Peter who didn't answer right away (yes, he did overreacted a little, but he was slowly getting used to it, he liked the kid too much), and, now, one of his best creations was presenting anomalies?
"It seems someone attempted to hack my system."
"Tell me you stopped it."
"I did. I am now trying to get as much information as possible about the hacker. Fortunately, my data base doesn't look damaged in any way."
"Good. Let's resume. I want you to send the Mark 47 to the rendezvous place on reconnaissance. Record evrything on a safe network, understood? Do the same with what you'll find about the hacker. The guy that tried this will only be able to kick himself over it."
"Yes, Sir. I just send the armor."
The billionaire got up, still awfully anxious, and took his phone back before leaving his workshop. It was about eight in the morning, and yet it was still dark outside because of the thick clouds blackening the sky and giving it a menacing air. The silence in the compound, as if announcing oncoming problems, was oppressive.
He frowned. It was even too silent, to the point of getting terribly cliché. Admittedly, since a few months, there weren't many people inside the building, but he could still be sure to meet someone when he roamed the long hallways or crossed some rooms. The mechanic was stricken by a bad feeling. Like in these movies with the suits of poor taste, a fragment of his mind suggested quite unnecessarily.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell me who's present at the compound at this moment."
The order seemed to evaporate in the heavy atmosphere.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y?"
His breath got stuck in his throat when, one more, he didn't get any answer from his artificial intelligence. His lungs began to burn because of the lack of oxygen, and he had to sit down not to risk to get hurt by losing his balance. It really wasn't the moment to get injured. Tony groaned, desperately trying to regain control of his respiration for the second time of the day, but he pertinently knew it would be extremely difficult to do so. He'd just lost F.R.I.D.A.Y, had almost no more allies, and didn't have his armor with him; in short, he was alone.
He unlocked with a trembling hand his phone, and quickly dialed a phone number. He almost cried in joy when the person picked up.
"Stark? What's wrong?"
"Cho. Where are you? There's no one at the compound."
"… Are you alright, Stark?" The doctor asked, sounding worried. "Don't you remember what you said?"
"What do you mean? What did I say?"
"You called everyone this morning, about an hour ago, to make us leave the compound. You claimed that you wanted to be entirely alone and- Oh. It was your voice, your way of speaking… But it wasn't you. Am I right?"
"You're remarkably perspicacious, Doctor," Tony sneered before immediately regretting what he'd just said. He couldn't afford to lose one of his only trusted acquaintance now. "Sorry, it was stupid of me to tell you this. But, seriously, what's happening? Why didn't I heard anything, and why didn't F.R.I.D.A.Y warn me? What do they want with Spider-Man?"
"I… I'm sorry, Tony. I don't know anything. It's my fault you're alone. I'll get back to the compound as soon as I can."
"I beg of you, don't come back," the inventor growled. "This place isn't safe anymore. Even F.R.I.D.A.Y doesn't answer no more. You have to be careful, Cho."
"Stark, don't-"
The genius forced himself to breath despite the breathtaking dread invading his whole body. He hadn't hung up, no; the phone line was abruptly cut, therefore ending the call. He only hoped Helen wasn't in danger because of him.
The people who had decided to make his day miserable were thus observing him, and had probably not appreciated his phone call. He would have liked to warn Pepper, Happy or Rhodey he was apparently going to get into trouble, but he had to look at the evidence: it wasn't possible anymore.
He blinked, then understood that the phone line wasn't the only thing that was cut. He didn't instantly realized it, but there wasn't any light now.
"Oh, I see," he grumbled.
The current had been switched off, too. Someone was trying to scare him, and, clearly, it was a success. The picture and the address had been a decoy, but his assailant, understanding the billionaire wouldn't leave his base himself, had opted for another strategy, locking him in his own home. The chances for him to manage to escape by himself were low, and he had to wait for the return of the Mark 47, the only armor currently working, which wouldn't come back before it had entirely inspected the warehouses. The ones who had organized this were obviously not total idiots.
It didn't necessarily mean he was going to simply wait for the others to capture or kill him.
They would probably prevent him from getting out with one of his vehicles, or maybe his cars were even trapped with bombs. Unfortunately for him, he wouldn't have time to check everything while keeping enough time for other preparations. He didn't know when exactly he was going to get attacked, and this was a huge problem. He hated uncertainties.
He got up, and wandered once more towards his workshop. He had been taken by surprise, indeed. But it wasn't like he had never thought of a situation like this one before in his life. The mechanic supposed it was one of the few advantages for being insomniac. During one of the myriad of nights he had spent working like a maniac to forget for a few hours his problems, he had thought about making every single door unlockable manually, even when there wasn't any current. But, the most important thing was that he had thought about installing another power source that only he knew of. Actually, he had even ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y not to register this generator anywhere, and not to put any security camera near it.
Hey, he wasn't considered as a genius for nothing. Well, okay, he was also slightly paranoid, but it was definitely useful when it permitted saving his own life. His aggressor was going to learn it the hard way.
Tony activated the generator, grinning smugly as he imagined the expression the stranger could make, and fondly patted the electric box. The action he'd just made, as simple it could be, had also obligated F.R.I.D.A.Y to redirect itself towards another safe network nobody had access to, and this even if the artificial intelligence wasn't able to do it by itself because of an eventual trouble. If it was the case, if his android was unable to react anymore, he could still connect himself to the network later to save his virtual friend.
However, he had to concentrate on his own survival first. It wasn't going to be a fun time, but he had experienced worse situations. After all, he did infiltrated a guarded mansion with grenades disguised as Christmas balls.
Tony abruptly looked up, his eyes burning with a crazy spark.
Who knows, maybe his new enemy liked surprises.
000
Peter had to admit the zoo visit was really nice. The other teenagers had finally calmed down after a moment, thanks to his teachers who had to resort to menace, promising to the students detention if they didn't stop harassing the shy boy with their questions. They had probably pitied him, something he was rather grateful for.
There was obviously work to do; it wasn't a simple touristic visit because he, along with Ned and Michelle, had to choose a category of animals present in the zoo and make a presentation about their subject to the class during the following week. Michelle had suggested the birds of prey, and the two best friends didn't have any objection with this topic. But, when they had asked her why she wanted these animals instead of another category, she had answered with a dangerous smile:
"Birds of prey are excellent observers. They get up high, attentive and unnoticed, before launching their attack on their preys. Some of them can even spot a spider from several hundred meters of distance."
Peter had deliberately ignored the shivers that had then traversed his spine.
At first, it had been difficult, but after several dozens of minutes he had finally been able to take his mind off, even managing to forget the strange phone call from Stark. They had firstly directed their steps towards the aviary, but had quickly changed their minds. The class had arrived by the Asia Gate, situating their objective at the other side of the park, because the birdcages for the flying predators were regrouped together. They had thus decided to admire the others animals they could find on their path. They had, after all, the whole day for their visit and were determined to have a maximum of fun. They had then observed in awe bears, felines, and different reptiles of all shapes and colors. Ned hadn't really appreciated the snakes, being quite afraid of them, and Michelle entertained herself by telling him all sort of anecdotes concerning these animals. His best friend had yelped in disgust when she had told him a python having once swallowed an entire man, adult-sized of course.
Indeed, it was everything but reassuring.
The young woman had seemingly saw Peter wasn't really feeling well, because she hadn't made any remark about his uncharacteristic silence, even if she had apparently expected him to gush excitedly with Ned about all the animals they were overjoyed to see with their own eyes. She was however occasionally sparing him a glance, full of innuendos, as she drew some snakes on her favorite sketchbook. What innuendos, he had no idea.
They were in front of the lions enclosure, watching them sleep peacefully, when he felt his phone vibrate once again. This time, he decided not to make the person calling him wait too much and was about to answer immediately when he noticed that the number displayed on his screen was totally foreign to his memories. Yet, his hesitation only lasted a second because his instinct knew this call was important. He took the mobile phone to his ear, casting his curious friend a sorry look.
"Hello?"
"Peter!" A familiar voice exclaimed, even if slightly distorted. Please, tell me you're alright!"
"Mrs Cho? Yeah, I'm fine. What's happening?"
"I thought Tony had said your name while we were talking, and considering the state he was in, I wanted to check on you. You may be in danger, Peter."
"What are you talking about?" The boy questioned, who was getting awfully worried.
"I think someone decided to target Stark."
000
Tony had been quite efficient, enough to give himself a mental pat on the back. Nobody had arrived yet, so he had taken profit from this to prepare himself. For people that well organized (and now he was sure they were a group, because he wasn't optimist enough to hope the hacker would come alone at the compound), they were incredibly late.
He had first opened every doors, except the one for the main entry, with a command he had entered on a computer, had blocked them, and had shut the current down once more. It was risky, he knew it, but the armor had yet to come back, so, with or without power source, his assailants were presumably going to be one step ahead on him. The inventor preferred to put his extra energy source to safety, especially if it was the last protection for his artificial intelligence. He didn't want to lose another one. Moreover, he had at least the home advantage. He knew each corner, each room, each closet, each piece of furniture of the building. He could take his foes by surprise.
It obviously depended on the stuff they were in possession of. The mechanic didn't exactly knew what to expect. Glasses for night vision or thermal cameras? Tasers, tranquilizer rifles or lethal weapons? People wearing bullet-proof jackets or entire war outfits? And how many of them would come? Five, ten, twenty? He was realistic; he knew it would be difficult for him to get rid of them.
But the forty-year-old hadn't spent too much time on the question, and had decided to create a mixture of traps, some as old as the world, others using more recent technologies.
Tony had begun with a web launcher he had originally crafted for the spider-kid, using it to plentifully recover with web all the wall-mounted cameras of the compound, without any exception. He had then hidden his own tiny cameras under some pieces of furniture, which would send the videos towards the safe network (which he hoped was still as safe as before) that F.R.I.D.A.Y had chosen when it was still operational. This way, if he was to be captured, there would still be a source, as tenuous as it could be, of information for the people who would take interest in his disappearance and that his artificial intelligence would consider as trustworthy.
Well, that was assuming there would be someone to save him (or at least attempt to) and that his android wasn't entirely destroyed.
At this thought, the philanthropist had spluttered anxiously and his already shaking breath had become jerky. He had forced himself to keep on working, concentrating on the gun he had been holding between his fingers and hesitating between choosing real bullets or sedatives, not knowing if he had to focus on his survival or his ethic. At the end, he had opted for sedatives. With doses that could still put a furious Hulk to sleep. Whatever the dose of anesthetic in his gun was, it wouldn't kill, and he didn't want to take the risk to stumble on an awakened foe a few minutes after he had shot them.
He had continued his setting up as fast as humanly possible. Except for the ground floor, he had recovered all the windows, had trapped all the doorways he could think of (and, man, that was going to be fun to watch), and, because the closets with household products had normal doors, with handles, he had tethered foghorns on the inside of the door, which would let him know where his foes could be. It was perfectly rudimentary, and they were probably expecting him to use more… sophisticated material. That was one of the reasons they had taken him (almost) all sources of power; they thought they could handicap him and make him defenseless. Too bad for them, really.
Galvanized by desperation, he probably had never worked that quickly before.
Now, armed with incongruous and weird tools, he would maybe have been called "Inspector Gadget" by a snickering Peter if the latter had been here with him.
Tony came to a stop, frozen by a ghastly revelation.
Peter.
He had talked to him when communications weren't down yet. But he was already spied on at that moment, when F.R.I.D.A.Y had also begun to derail. They might have heard his real name, and, if it was the case, then the teenager and his aunt were in danger.
By his fault. It was always because of him.
The inventor gritted his teeth, miserable but determined. He wouldn't let anyone hurt them. It was only another reason for him to fight with all his strength.
It was approximately ten minutes later, as he was tried to be inconspicuous, that he heard the first questionable sound. Well, actually, this expression was perhaps a bit too modest to describe the blare produced by the foghorn somewhere below him, on the ground floor. It was the floor he had trapped the least, so he could keep a few tricks up his sleeve. However, it didn't mean it was a safe place to explore.
As if to prove the forty-year-old right, a muffled shout went to his ears. He moved silently, paying attention to each of his steps. Slipping on his nose the glasses with thermal vision, a wonderful idea he had made a few months ago when he was bored, he walked on the tip of his toes to sneak to the gym room Peter and himself usually trained. He carefully avoided the trap in the doorway, and leaned on the wall to count the silhouettes he could perceive. The billionaire let a worried grunt escape from his lips, his face contorting in a grimace.
They had to be about fifteen, and, considering the way they were moving, they were plausibly heavily armed; though he didn't know yet if it was to put him to sleep or to kill him. The only positive point Tony could think of after seeing this was that, apparently, they weren't equipped with thermal detection stuff, because they were all roaming randomly on the first floor. One of the silhouettes seemed to have one injured arm, dangling the long of their body, which made the otherwise tense man cackle, because it probably corresponded to the cry he had heard a couple of seconds ago. The poor guy had possibly touched one of the handles of the main doors, which the genius had made white-hot with a waffle iron. His gluttony was doing him a service, for once!
Maybe he did had an advantage, in the end.
The forty-year-old glanced towards the wall separating him from the outside of the building, trying to detect more thermal signatures, and saw three of them, quite far way from him, motionless and at a regular distance from each other, which probably meant that these three men were drivers. To escape with his own vehicle was to risky and predictable of him, but… he could steal the ones his aggressors had so kindly put to his disposition.
The gym room had large windows, recovered with sheets and duct tape. There were also solid ropes stored in the room, which he could use as an emergency exit. The problem, if he put his plan to action immediately, was that the foes present in the compound would find the building too silent and would seemingly understand that he was trying to escape. That's why he needed a diversion. That shouldn't be something too difficult to accomplish, Tony thought with a grin.
Being a Stark had a lot of advantages. But it also brought an equal amount of problems.
So, when it happened, he loved, in a sort of compensation, to make his enemies' life hell.
-000-
Soooo… that's it. How was it?
I honestly didn't think I would go that far. When I began writing this story, I just imagined fluffy one-shots between Peter and Tony and… well… certainly not this. xD
I hope, with all my heart, that you liked this chapter. I'd love to get your opinion on it, even if it's a critic! (And please tell me if you spot any mistake!)
The next chapter will be uploaded soon, I promise ;)