Chapter 3: No I in Team
Once Peter tied on his new shoes and changed into a new set of clothes that were similar to his school's gym attire of grey sweatpants and a dark blue sweatshirt, Reynolds led him to a high-bay training room. Peter noted the high ceilings and the industrial beams that ran across from wall to wall. He quickly measured the distance it would take for him to leap to one of the beams. They were higher than he was used to. He needed his webs to securely make it to the beam. Peter searched the ceiling, wondering if there was an escape hatch or ventilation system he could crawl into.
But, he was plotting got distracted when Reynolds barked out. "Company!" he yelled, his voice echoing in the room. "Line up!"
Peter took notice of a handful of individuals, who were originally occupying gym mats, stretching and chatting to one another. Upon Reynolds order, they got up from the floor and did a line-up. Not to military standards, but they were at attention enough to show respect.
"I have a new teammate to introduce," Reynolds said, pulling Peter up front to stand in the middle between the others and Reynolds. "His name is Peter Parker. Also known as Spider-Man."
His hero name garnered a few, scoffing chuckles from the group and Peter's cheeks warmed.
"Man?" cackled one guy with sharp, blue eyes that act wild. "More like a baby! He's a baby! Bity Baby, bity baby—does he need his pacifier?"
"Cool it, Powers," Reynolds warned before he glanced down at Peter. "Ignore him. He's a fool. Let me introduce you to the group." He pointed to the beginning of the line. "First is Yuriko Oyama—"
"Lady Deathstrike," the slender Asian woman corrected him as her unusually long nails became visible. Wait… were those metal claws? "That's my name."
Reynolds ignored the interruption. "Next is Min Li Ng and she also goes by Silk Fever."
Peter stared at another Asian woman with an aura of fire surrounding her body. Her brown hair waved with the smoldering smoke that chimney from her as he eyes glared like charcoal at him.
"And this is Jack Harrison, John Powers and Luke Cage," Reynolds finished down the line-up. "The guys on the team."
Jack Harrison had his arms crossed, scowling as he listened to Reynolds make introductions. John Powers's lips pulled up in a devilish grin, eye gleaming with deadly excitement that made Peter's spider-sense go haywire. And Luke Cage, extremely tall with muscles forming over muscles, only grunted at him.
Reynolds clapped on Peter's shoulder. "That's the team," he announced. "They'll be your comrade-in-arms, helping one another improve and work together to fight and save the planet. You'll learn to trust one another and rely on each other to complete missions."
Peter cocked an eyebrow up. He definitely didn't believe that. Every one of his new teammates looked ready to shred him into pieces, particularly Lady Deathstrike.
"Don't be nervous," Reynolds said, encouragingly. "They won't hurt you. Well… not purposefully. Right?" Reynolds glared at the team.
He received a chorus of mixed responses: yeah, sure, whatever, okay.
Their relaxed promises didn't ease up the spider-sense. Peter only shook his head. "You know—I think there's been a mistake," he said to Reynolds. "I'm not supposed to be here. I mean… I go to school! I have an algebra test I need to take. I've studied for it and all, plus there's that essay I need to write on The Great Gatsby. It's like… only one page at the moment, but I need to make it into five pages with motifs and themes and—"
"Relax," Reynolds said, squatting down to be at eye-level with Peter. "I know you're nervous. Everyone is on their first day, but you'll do fine. I'll be here at all times to make sure nothing afoul happens, okay? Mr. Stark was specific about you."
"Specific about what?"
"To be careful," Reynolds said. "I don't necessary like it any more than you, but times have changed, Peter. We all need to chip in. But, trust me, nothing bad will happen to you."
Reynolds rose back up to his full height and pushed Peter to join his fellow teammates. He fell into place right beside Luke Cage, whose dark eyes bared down on him with such intensity Peter thought he lasers were going to shoot at him. Precautious, Peter made a berth between him and the man.
Reynolds looked at them all with a pleased expression. "Okay—we're all stretched and ready, so let's hit the course!"
BREAK
By course, Reynolds meant a gigantic obstacle course. It consisted of walls over forty feet tall, ropes to climb, barbed wire to crawl under and other traps Peter had yet to face as he simply stared at the terror.
The most Peter ever did was climb a ten-foot rope in gym class and five minutes of sit-ups. This was nothing like his gym teacher put together.
Reynolds instructed everyone to go through the obstacle course together. No one was allowed to run off ahead or be left behind. He emphasized on the latter and Peter knew he meant him.
They all went to the start and Reynolds called out, starting the clock. Jack Harrison led the group. He made it look easy to jump over those hurdles, as did the others. Peter didn't have much of a problem with it, but he did have to concentrate. It wasn't as easy without his goggles to help him adjust.
He followed along, doing his best to stay up with the group of older men and women. Already he knew they disliked him by his age alone. Peter didn't blame them. Who wants a kid on their team? Even if he could stop an out-of-control car with his bare hands. If it made them feel any better, Peter didn't want to be there either.
He doubted that it did.
They continued through the course, hopping over small to large walls that Peter found to be quite easy. His constant use of climbing up buildings in New York made the course walls seem child's play. They did vaults over beams and then came the crawl underneath the barbed wire.
The sharp edges of wire poked and prodded Peter mercilessly that he often couldn't stop himself from wincing.
"Tired out?" came a cackling call from ahead. Powers again. "You need a little kiss for your boo-boo."
Peter ground his teeth together, but said nothing as he persisted on, freeing himself from the wire to join the others. Luke Cage gave him the once over, but said nothing. He was alive. Bleeding, but alive.
They climbed up a tower, having to avoid touching the metal shock bars that mysteriously popped out from the walls. Peter did well again, easily dodging the shockers that popped out from nowhere. His spidey-senses always alerted him of the upcoming danger.
Once they reached the top, Peter stiffened. There was only one panel of wood for all and after that, was nothing. A far drop below where Reynolds stood, neck craned all the way back to look up at them. Peter shuddered a breath as he leaned away from the ledge. Not that he was afraid of heights, but he didn't have his web-shooters to catch him if he fell. He kept his back as close to the tower as possible as everyone gather around the ledge to climb on the loose, rope bridge to the other side.
Jack, Min Li and Luke went ahead with no break, secured in their confidence to make it to the other side without flipping and plummeting to the floor below them.
Someone from behind pushed Peter onward. "Go," Lady Deathstrike growled, shoving him again to hop on the rope ladder as Luke climbed off to the other side.
Peter swallowed the lump down and grabbed the edges of the rope. He took a death breath and started to make his way across. Slow and steady. It was easier than he realized. His equilibrium made it possible for him to climb it without even wobbling the rope and disturbing the balance. Peter smiled, pleased with himself on not falling over.
Until the nape of his neck prickled. His hairs stood straight up in attention. Something bad was about to happ—
Gravity sucked Peter right in the middle. The rope underneath went limp and fell, and Peter with it. He scrambled, hand slipping off the rope and now, he was free-falling. He instinctively tried to shoot out a web to stop his crashing descent, but remembered he no longer had access to his life-support gadgets.
Plummeting, Peter tried to find a way to stop the madness, but he only thought of his aunt. Would they even tell her what happened to him?
Not that anything happened to him. Peter never hit the floor. Instead, he landed in the arms of Mr. Reynolds, who hovered in the middle of the obstacle course. And he looked positively pissed off.
"Yuriko!"
Peter titled his head back to see Lady Deathstrike leaning over the ledge from where she stood. She was quite far away, but Peter heard her whimsical voice, "My bad."
Reynolds fumed. "Yuriko! Powers!"
"What did I do?" boomed John Powers from above. "I didn't cut the rope!"
"But you insinuated it," Reynolds retorted as he flew up. Peter grabbed onto the man as they shot up to the top of the tower, becoming level with everyone.
Peter saw everyone and they all saw him, cradled like a baby. He saw Lady Deathstrike and Powers, smirking and quietly chuckling. He looked to Jack, Luke and Min, who stared at him impassively.
He wished Reynolds put him down. Maybe somewhere away from all of them.
Reynolds finally directed his gaze to him. "You okay Peter?"
"Fine."
Reynolds frowned, brows bunched in confliction. "I think you're done for today."
Another ruckus of cackle cracked the sound. "The itsy bitsy spider needs its bitty?" laughed Powers, slapping his kneecap. "Needs a blankey and some snuggling?"
Reynolds pressed something on his wrist. Instantly, Powers screamed and collapsed on his knees, tipping over so that he banged his head hard against the plank. Peter jerked at hearing the man's piercing scream, but Reynolds clutched tight to keep him still.
"Anyone else have something to say?" Reynolds questioned as he eyed the group. "What about you, Yuriko?"
Lady Deathstrike did not dare to glance at Powers, who continued to whimper on the floor beside her. "I'm sorry," she said, voice much more somber than it was previously.
Reynolds huffed, but accepted the apology. "Continue with the course," he ordered. "Good luck trying to get to the other side without the rope though."
With that comment, Reynolds swooped back down to ground floor and slid Peter onto his feet. "I'm sorry about that, Peter," the man apologized. "Powers likes to pull pranks like that every now and then, but… I hoped he wouldn't do it to you. I'm sorry."
Peter pulled away from Reynolds. Apologizing didn't fix anything. Or telling him they wanted to help him. Or promising to keep him safe. Their words fell flat to him. Meant nothing.
He looked around, searching for the door. Spotted, he darted for it, but Reynolds surprisingly blocked him. No—that wasn't surprising.
"Slow down a bit, Mr. Parker," Reynolds advised, taking Peter's arms to hold him in place. "Can't go running off. You still need to finish your set."
Peter stared, baffled. "You said I was done."
"With this course," Reynolds said as he nudged his elbow in that direction. "I may have started too big for you. Here—follow me. I'll take you to a smaller course."
The smaller course wasn't challenging at all. Peter found swinging around New York to be much harder than the one Reynolds had him complete. He climbed over the shorter wall, hurdled over different heights with ease and slid through tunnels without pausing for a breath. When he completed it the first time, Reynolds didn't believe it and made him do it again. And again. And again. Peter stopped counting how many times he completed the course. No matter what he did (if he went faster or did something different), Reynolds always ordered another round. It got to the point, Peter's knees wouldn't stop shaking. Even at that point of exhaustion, Reynolds told him to do it one more time.
When finished, Peter's knees gave way and he fell onto the mat, gasping.
A shadow blanketed over him. "Slower breaths," Reynolds advised. "Deeper too."
Peter did. He breathed deep and let out slow, but the dizziness and fatigue didn't wear off.
"Good," Reynolds commended. "Now, on your feet. You can't stay down there forever."
Peter took a minute before he pushed himself up, legs a bit wobbly as they kept him from toppling over. Once he fixed himself upright, Reynolds gave him a congratulatory smile.
"Excellent work, Mr. Parker," he said, pleased. "Sorry to push you there, but you need to work on endurance. Sometimes, fights can carry out longer than one wants it." He paused as if waiting for Peter to reply, but Peter said nothing. "Well, let's see if the others finished. Then, we can finish up and have dinner."
They others were done, waiting at the end just as Powers dropped down from the rope. Powers glared at Peter, a sinister spark lit up in the man's eyes and Peter opted to move to the opposite side, away from Powers.
Reynolds congratulated all of them. They didn't beat their record ("For obvious reasons," said Reynolds as he looked to Powers and Lady Deathstrike), but they might one day. For now, the team needed to finish their day with a five-mile run on the indoor track.
Peter's mouth dropped. More exercise? Running? Five miles?! Was he the only one who thought it was extreme?
Apparently not, as everyone hustled from the obstacle course to the track.
"Get going, Peter," called Reynolds when Peter didn't join the others on the track. "Don't fall behind."
Natasha Romanoff drew out a long, depressing sigh. The last few months were stressful. Actually, only one day was extremely stressful, but the fallout was an opening wound that never seemed to heal.
She missed her friends. Whenever she thought about them, a warm fondness brewed in her chest. She remembered Steve, how kind and thoughtful he was of everyone around him. Or Bruce, who's gentle, shy-like persona was the opposite of his Hulk identity. She missed Bruce's excitement over nerdy things where she listened to his voice drone on and on, not caring at all to stop him. She wished Clint never left. Her partner in the field and her best friend. He always knew what to do or say in situation. Clint was someone she could trust to catch her if she needed it. Then there was Thor, who also had a smile on his face even in the face of grave danger and death. Never one to back away from a fight and always the first one to initiate a party (after Stark). And always seen chugging down the beer, showing off his better tolerance.
God, she missed the group. The original Avengers. The six of them, facing off against those who threatened Earth. The group, while not always stable, worked well together when needed. They bonded well when moral philosophy was put aside and had no quarrels being in each other's company.
Those times were gone now. Stark and Rogers made sure of it. As did Ross and the rest of the world. The old Avengers were gone. Dissembled and forgotten.
She shouldn't be sad. She picked her side. She chose the right side. Still—she missed the old days. Didn't everybody?
"Careful with your thoughts, Romanoff."
Nat turned to find Reynolds had joined her. She didn't know the man well enough to be friendly, but she nevertheless offered respect to him. After all, he was considered a dangerous liability according to Fury's files.
"Careful about what?" Nat challenged, face fixed in a stoic mask.
"Your sympathy is showing," Reynolds returned. "I'm sure Mr. Stark wouldn't be too happy to know you have some remorse about what happened to your old friends."
Nat dangerously frowned at the man. "You question my loyalties."
"You were close with Rogers, if I remember correctly," Reynolds responded. "Barton too. Are you not the godmother of his children?"
Nat wished she could punch the man, but doing so would only break her hand. "I was," she admitted and pivoted to face him, arms crossed. "If Stark has a problem, he can talk to me. Doesn't need to send a goon to do it."
Reynolds snorted. "I'm no goon," he said, grinning in humor at the idea. "Only wanted to let you know to be careful. If I know, I'm sure Stark knows too."
He repositioned himself, relaxed more than normal as he nudged his head at the indoor track below. "I noticed you were watching the recruits today. What did you think?"
There was no point in denying it. She came down up the top levels to watch, but not the group. Only one person captured her attention.
"Stark recruited a boy."
"He did," Reynolds acknowledged.
Nat's mouth pinched into a straight line. "We stooped to child soldiers, now?"
The man sighed heavily, shoulders falling when he breathed out. "If we didn't, they would," he commented. "Rogers would have found him and taken him."
"Steve didn't though," Nat pointed out. "He had the chance, but didn't."
Captain Steve Rogers would never drag a kid into battle. He would never even consider recruiting a child to fight on his behalf. War was not for children. Never would be.
It seemed Reynolds didn't share the same ideology. "His loss then," he remarked. "In any case, Stark spared the boy. The kid could be wasting away in the hole instead of being out and about."
Nat arched her brow. "You call this freedom?"
Reynolds's gaze sharpened on him. "Again, Romanoff, your sympathies are showing," he warned before gruffing. "Don't worry about the boy. He's being well-cared for."
"I saw," Nat nearly darted from her spot to save the boy after the rope was cut. She only stopped when Reynolds caught him. "One day in and he almost plummets to death."
"He's fine," grunted Reynolds with a scowl on his face. "He was in no real danger."
"I bet he didn't think that."
Reynolds glared, unappreciative of her observation. Like Tony, he was not used to being challenged or rebuked. Especially from those who lacked any enhanced powers. Power-headed individuals never took criticism well.
"The Parker boy is none of your concern," Reynolds rebuffed, his hefty arms folded in front of him. "Mr. Stark gave him to me. He's my responsibility."
Nat said nothing, but thought of everything. Looking back at the runners, she watched the boy jog the laps in solitude. She understood the feeling and secretly hoped the boy was strong enough to survive what was to come.
A beep directed her attention to the watch on her arm. Time to go.
Before she left, she had one parting statement to give. "A bit of advice about children," Nat said, purposefully lowering her voice to force Reynolds to listen carefully to her, "they tend to rebel."
Flashing a cocky smirk at Reynolds' peeved face, Nat spun on her heel and strode away. Reynolds may think he had things under control, as did Tony, but from all the years she worked as a spy and assassin, Nat knew one thing – All empires fall. All kings go down. All ages die. It only takes a spark of rebellion to do it.
The last mile was brutal, but Peter finished, crossing the line with barely cohesive thoughts. All he wanted was water and to sit down. Even then, those luxuries were denied to him. He was told to stay standing and follow the other men to the locker room to shower and change.
It was dinner time.
Peter followed them, but came to an awkward halt when the older men stripped to jump in the open shower. He was not used to showering in front of other people—naked. Even in school, they never stripped to their birthday suit. Some didn't even change. Like himself. He wore his gym attire to school on the days he had gym as did others. Being naked in front of a grown men was a new environment for him and wasn't exactly comfortable at the idea of showering in front of them.
Unfortunately, his discomfort was noted by Powers. "What? Never been in a locker room before?" he snarked. "Hiding something, huh?"
Peter backed away, eyes darting around him to find the nearest exit.
Powers kept pestering. "You embarrassed, huh?" he laughed and laughed. "I bet you got a—"
A loud whip and snap cracked the locker room, followed by a piercing howl that reverberated along the walls of the shower. Luke Cage, stark-naked, used his towel to snap it against Power's bare back.
"Leave the kid alone, Powers," Luke warned. "He's terrified enough as it is."
"Yeah," Jack spoke up as he joined the others, towel wrapped around his waist. "Plus, I bet you were one of those kids who changed in the bathroom stalls."
Powers stewed over their criticism. "What's with the gang-up, huh?" he grumbled. "It's all in jest. Take a chill pill! Think of it as light hazing."
"Knock it off," Luke ordered. "You heard Reynolds. Leave the kid be."
"Or what?"
Luke only had to take one step before his chest nearly bumped into Powers. He towered over Powers, who suddenly jumbled backwards like a cowering fool.
"Sorry, sorry," Powers said. "Relax. Again! Only jesting in good fun."
"Not with you," Luke said as Jack nodded in agreement. "Kid—just hang-back until we finish. Then you'll have it to yourself."
Peter nodded. He wanted to thank the big, strong man, but no words came out of his mouth. He backed away and collapsed on the many benches near the lockers. He heard bits and pieces of his teammates' conversations, but not once did they discuss him. They talked about other things: sports, films, friends they had in common and plain old rumors that Peter never heard.
As they showered, Peter sat in his dirtied, torn clothes, stinking of foul odor. His nose crinkled every time he shifted position, the sour aroma burning his nostrils. If he was home, he wouldn't have to wait for a shower nor shower in public. His shampoo would be there in the corner, along with body wash that Aunt May thought would smell nice on him. He wouldn't have to be sitting like a bashful idiot, staring at a vent.
Peter's eyes widened. He sat up straight, eyes locked on the vent near the ceiling. Was what he saw real? He glanced back to the showers. The men were still in the shower room, the steam wafting out. Peter tentatively move from the bench and approached the vent.
Examining the dimensions in his head, he realized that the vent was big enough for him to squeeze through. He took one more glance back at the shower. Luke, Jack and Powers had yet to come out of the showers.
Peter speedily worked. He climbed up the wall to the vent, checking it over again from a new angle. He beamed. The vent was the perfect size. A child of his stature could easily squeeze into the ventilation while the older men's bulkier appearance prevented them from chasing after him.
He pried his fingers into the grate, latching tight with his spidey adhesives. In a quick and easy tug, the vent came right off with little noise. Peter paused for a moment, holding his breath, but he heard no change of tone or comments from the men. They didn't have super-hearing like him.
Carefully, Peter slipped into the air duct. It was cramped, but there was enough room for him move without feeling claustrophobic. Once fully in the ventilation system, Peter began his crawl to freedom.