A/N: The story continues, but I still don't own any of them.
Chapter 3: That Hurts
Peter smelled something funny. It had a metallic coppery smell. He even tasted it... it was awful!
His head hurt... his whole body ached, actually.
Peter tried to focus, and he realized the pain seemed to radiate from his right shoulder.
He groaned and tried to pull his eyes open.
He blinked once... twice...
Ugh... yeah, that hurt.
He took some deep, steadying breaths and tried again.
This time he was able to keep his eyes open longer.
And he wished that he hadn't.
Straight ahead of him lay the body of the security guard. The body was a cold gray and the eyes still looked out, seeing nothing, clouded with death. Peter suppressed the urge to throw up and squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to notice how the blood was coagulating on the floor around the poor man's head.
"This is bad! So very VERY bad!" Peter thought to himself.
He groaned and opened his eyes again, this time turning his attention to his right shoulder.
He noticed that his jacket had been removed and torn into strips. The strips were wadded up and held over his wound with duct tape.
Apparently, the bank robbers wanted to keep one hostage alive.
"I suppose I should be thankful," Peter mused. But as another wave of pain shot through him, he knew that was ridiculous. "I have them to blame for this! Assholes!"
Peter again looked down at where the wound was. It could have been worse. It looked like the bullet had entered and exited through his right shoulder, the exit wound just beneath his collar bone. Peter could feel his body trying to heal, but he usually had cuts and bruises to deal with. This was the first bullet wound.
Another wave of pain seemed to shoot out from the wound, setting his nerves aflame. "God! That hurts!" Peter thought, realizing that he didn't care if his first bullet wound was also his last.
Peter let out another groan. His senses flared almost as much as the wound had a moment before. "Shit!" Peter thought, he seemed to forget that he wasn't alone.
He had been placed so that he was leaning in front of the teller's counter. He could hear voices coming out from the back, likely from the vault area.
"Look! The baby's awake!" Curly stepped out first, his gun at his side.
"Aw! Isn't he cute!" Moe cooed, his weapon also in hand. But it was something about the way the man looked him over, that truly unsettled him. "He looks so sweet!"
Peter shuddered a little, senses continuing to flare. Peter studied the men, noticing now that the masks were off. "Damn," he realized. "It's never good to see their faces!"
"So the little fucker is awake?" a third voice asked, stepping out last from the back.
Peter had almost forgotten about Larry. The third man had his weapon tucked into the waist band of his jeans. He knelt down so that his face was merely inches from Peter's own.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Larry asked.
Peter made a show of looking around and then down at his shoulder before lifted his eyes back to Larry. "Do you?" Peter asked, feeling angry at the damage caused by these men.
Larry cocked his head a little and furrowed his brows at Peter, studying him. "Arrogant little shit, aren't you?" he asked.
Without warning, Larry shot up his hand and poked at the wound, pretending to check the bandage,
"Shit! That hurts!" Peter groaned out, breathing heavily.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Larry pretending to act concerned.
Moe came to kneel beside him, "You ok, baby boy?"
"Definitely not!" Peter thought.
"They locked down the vault, you little jackass! Thanks to you and that other ass..." Curly jerked a thumb back towards the security guard, "...our whole job was botched!"
"He didn't botch the job," Larry corrected. He stood up, leaving Moe still kneeling not far from Peter. "You two dumb asses did that on your own!" he yelled.
This caused Moe to look away from Peter and stand up, "What the fuck are you talking about?" he demanded.
"You let that guard get you with that taser!" Larry accused. "You should have shot him first! And you!" he looked at Curly. "You let a kindergartner get the drop on you!"
Curly looked down and then over towards Peter, where he sat trying to shrink into the counter behind him.
Peter really wanted to leave. He wanted to shoot a web out and get the hell out of this bank. "My backpack..." Peter thought suddenly, knowing his web shooters and Spider-Man gear were tucked inside the bag. He looked around frantically, spotting the bag not too far away. He was relieved to see that it looked like it hadn't been opened.
"How did that happen?" Curly asked, now squatting in front of him with his weapon in hand. Peter didn't fail to notice how his finger twitched near the trigger.
"What?" Peter asked. He had been thinking about his backpack, and in his hazy state of mind, he lost track of what they were talking about.
"Just how the hell does a kid like you get the better of a man like me?" Curly clarified.
Peter studied the man, taking note of more than just the dark curly hair on his head. He hadn't really noticed, but the guy was huge. He seemed to be as tall as Thor and built like King T'Challa. His eyes were a dull grayish blue, and hard as steal. Peter gulped, "Um... adrenaline, I guess. You know... fight or flight? I guess my instinct is to fight." Peter's tumbled out quickly, and he hoped the man would accept his response.
He stood up over Peter, towering above him. The man seemed to study him a bit. He scoffed, "Right... that's probably it." He held up the gun. "It doesn't really matter. I got my pay back in the end."
"So it was you, then?" Peter said. "You always shoot a guy in the back?" That was a dumb thing to say, but Peter realized it too late.
Curly snarled and reached down, lifting Peter up by his bad shoulder.
The black dots came dancing in front of his eyes again, and when they cleared, Peter was looking up into Curly's angry gray-blue eyes. "You have a serious mouth on you, kid!" Curly pushed Peter back, so that he was bending backwards over the counter.
The pain was shooting through him again, and Peter once again fought to stay awake, not wanting to let the bigger man take advantage of his weakened state. He was dazed again, but was pulled back to reality when he felt the muzzle of Curly's gun on his lips. Peter froze, wide eyes staring up at the man.
"Enough!" Larry yelled.
Curly didn't listen. He forced the gun into Peter's mouth. "I could blow you away RIGHT NOW!" Curly yelled.
Peter's blood ran cold. He was scared, and he hated that he was so damn scared.
"I said ENOUGH!" Larry scolded again. "If you kill him, we have nothing to use as a way to bargain with the police."
Curly yanked the gun from Peter's mouth, dropping him back to ground.
Peter sputtered and coughed. He leaned his head back against the counter. The black dots were threatening to take him again. Peter closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, still listening to the other men. He didn't want to lose track of where they were in the room.
He heard Moe laughing as Curly stomp away.
Then, he heard steps approaching and was afraid Curly was coming back to finish him for good.
"Hey!" Larry's voice called, before the man was tapping his cheek. "Stay awake! I'm not done talking to you yet!"
Peter slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the man. While once again trying to steady his breathing, Peter took in Larry's appearance. This man was built like Clint Barton, but Peter thought he seemed a bit taller. Larry's eyes were a little more green than Curly, and his hair was cut shorter. The man had stubble on his face and looked to be in his early thirties. Peter gulped down a wave of nausea. He looked the other man in the eyes, silently letting him know he was listening.
"Good boy," Larry said. He looked at Curly. "Grab that post or me, will you?" he asked.
Curly went over to the stanchion post that Peter had used to hit him earlier. Peter feared that they planned to beat him with it. Instead, Peter watched as the big man awkwardly pulled at the post, dragging it over.
"Oh hell!" Peter realized. "It's heavy."
"That's far enough," Larry said, stopping Curly's action. Moe was in the background, studying Peter intently.
Larry met Peter's eyes again. "I need you to help me understand something," he said. "Why is it that my friend, my rather largely built friend, struggles more with that than you? How is it that you swung that thing like a baseball bat to take him down?"
Peter opened his mouth to answer, but Larry cut him off.
"...And do NOT say adrenaline!" Larry said sharply.
Peter snapped his mouth shut.
The three men looked at him expecting an answer. "I... I'm not sure," Peter finally said, not sure if they believed the lie.
"What's your name?" Moe spoke up.
Peter furrowed his brows, a little confused by the change of subject. He thought about lying or saying something smart, but then he remembered the incident with Curly's gun and thought better of it. "Peter..." he breathed out, looking at the other men. "My name is Peter," he said again, trying to sound calm. "What are your names?" he asked, figuring it was worth a try.
The men were silent, and Peter thought maybe he had crossed a line again.
Larry finally gave a short laugh, bringing up his finger to wag in front of Peter's face, "Nuh uh! Nice try though, Pete!"
"Only Mr. Stark can call me that," Peter thought.
"So... Peter, I don't think you're being entirely honest with me," Larry scolded, sounding like a disappointed teacher scolding a kid for losing his homework.
Peter gulped, "But... we have other things to figure out... for now."
Larry stood up and walked away.
Peter let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding.
His relief was short lived. Moe came over with a roll of duct tape and yanked Peter to his feet. Moe was the smallest of the three men, with a lean build similar to Peter's own. But the man wasn't weak or small by any means. Moe's brown eyes, stared into Peter's own, and Peter could see the man was also taller than him. Moe gave him a creepy smile, before forcing Peter around and pushing his stomach against the counter.
Peter bit back a groan as Moe, none too gently, taped Peter's hands behind his back. The strain on his shoulder hurt like a bitch, and Peter struggled to understand why this was even necessary with him still feeling weak from being shot. "Because you swung a heavy post like a baseball bat, you idiot!" he scolded himself.
The tape bit into his wrists, and Peter's stomach churned as more pain burst out from his shoulder. Moe finished tightly binding Peter's wrists before flipping him back around. The damn black spots were back and Peter shook his head to try to clear them, which didn't really help him to recover his equilibrium. As he finished breathing through another wave of nausea, he heard Moe trying to get his attention.
"That's it, baby boy," the man said. "Breath through it."
Peter yanked his eyes open to glare at the man, not too fond of the nickname. It was then, Peter realized just how close Moe was. The man was too close, with hands on Peter's waist. Peter's senses were firing, and his hair stood on end. Moe may have been the smallest in the group, but he was dangerous. "Let go!" Peter growled out.
Moe smirked. "Just trying to keep you steady, Petey. Better now?"
Peter glared daggers at Moe and gave a subtle nod, hoping to be left alone.
"Good..." Moe drawled. He brought up a hand and grasped Peter's chin. "Now to do something about that mouth," he cooed, rubbing his thumb up to Peter's lips.
Peter thought he was really going to vomit this time.
"Stop messing with Pete," Larry called. "Finish up so we can make the call!"
Moe laughed in Peter's face, pulling his hand away to clap it hard on the side of his face. "You make it too easy, baby boy!" And with that he tore off a large strip of tape...
"No! Wai...Mmmfph!" Peter's protest was cut off.
Moe pushed the tape down hard on Peter's lips. "Too easy," he whispered, bringing up his hand to rub over Peter's mouth that was now covered in tape.
"Shit! Don't let me throw up now!" Peter thought as Moe dragged him up and pushed him over towards the back of the counter. "Oh god, please let that be his gun poking me in the back!"
Moe pushed him on the ground behind the counter, finishing his task by binding Peter's feet once he was in place.
Peter was so done. The most recent movement had him feeling renewed pain, and he welcomed the darkness that pulled at his eyes this time. He was safe in the dark.
Captain Jenkins met with May not long after she arrived. He was horrified to learn that the young man inside, Peter Parker, was only 16 years old. If these men were who he feared they were, then this kid was in serious danger.
The FBI had been after a trio of bank robbing criminals for awhile now. These men were making their way around the country, leaving a trail of victims in their wake. The men didn't necessarily worry about getting large sums of money. Just enough to help them travel around and torture more innocent people along the way.
They had been trying to make contact with the men who had barricaded themselves inside with Parker for awhile now. They were smart. The captain and his men weren't able to get a visual inside the building, so there was no way to get snipers on them as a way to take them down.
No... these men would want to be let out to go on their merry way, and the Parker kid was their bargaining chip.
The captain shook his head, wondering why a kid that young had felt the need to stand up to these thugs.
"Captain!" One of his men called, "Dispatch is on the line, they're trying to talk to us." Jenkins knew he was referring to the robbers inside the bank.
"Patch them through!" the Captain called, moving towards the van that was set up as their on-site command center. He caught site of the kid's aunt as he stepped inside, giving her a look that said he'd fill her in later.
Grabbing a head set, he pressed a button, "Hello? This is Captain Jenkins. With whom am I speaking?"
"Names aren't important," growled the voice on the other end, "Although I expect you have some idea of just who we are."
Jenkins didn't miss the smugness in the man's voice, but chose to ignore it. He wanted to get more information on the Parker kid. "Can you tell me about the young man you have inside?" Jenkins heard from the first officers on the scene about the fate of the security guard. He knew the man was killed on the spot, shot to the head... he just didn't want that getting out in the media until the man's family had been informed. "We know he was hurt. Might I inquire as to his condition?"
"You mean Peter?" The voice asked, still smug. "We patched him up. He'll be just fine. He's just taking a little snooze at the moment."
Jenkins didn't like the sound of that, worried that the kid was unconscious and not at all fine. He also wasn't thrilled that they knew his name. With men like this, it was better for them not to know so much. "I'd like to speak with him at some point," Jenkins said. "I'd like to let his family know he's alright and able to speak."
"I told you the little shit is fine!" The voice growled out. "And only you can keep him that way by backing off and getting us a chopper to fly out of here!"
Jenkins stayed as calm as possible. "I hear you, and we can talk about that some more, but..." Jenkins took a breath, "If you are who I think you are, I would feel a lot better if I could hear from the kid..."
Xander Hanes, Albert McMann, and Jackson Grey.
Tony studied the names that were on the screen in front of him, along with their criminal records. He shuddered as he read off the list and saw the pictures of the victims that suffered at their hands at various locations around the country. It was a very small comfort that not every victim was killed, but no one was really left in good condition by any stretch of the imagination.
It had taken some time, but Tony and Rhodes were finally able to locate a camera that had captured the faces of the two men that had charged into the bank. The third man was listed as their associate after FRIDAY ran facial recognition and found the hit off of the FBI's database. These men were wanted, and Tony was worried.
If the FBI knew these men were in New York, they were likely on their way. They would want to question Peter. That was bad. Peter being held hostage by these men was bad enough, but the FBI could make things worse if they asked too many questions.
Tony picked up his phone to text the names to May. He would need her to pass these names to the Captain on site with her. He hoped there could be some way to resolve this before involving the FBI. Peter did not need this kind of attention. He wouldn't want all of this attention.
He looked at Rhodes as he sent the text to May. "It may be about time we got a closer look," he told the other man.
Rhodes eyes looked haunted. Tony knew the other man was just as horrified by the reality of just what kind of men they were dealing with.
"I think you're right," Rhodes agreed. "We need to get Peter out of there... and soon!"
Both men looked back on the screen... at one profile in particular... Xander Hanes (the one they would later discover as the one Peter referred to as Moe). His record was perhaps the most disturbing of all. A registered sex offender whose victims held an eerie resemblance to Peter.
A/N: So... there you have it! Peter is in a heap of trouble.
**Also, I want to be clear... there will be no explicit assault on Peter by the character of Xander Hanes. I don't think that is something that is entertaining. It's disturbing. That concept is only in this story as a source of fear and concern for Peter and those who care about him. Just how will a young superhero deal with coming up against that kind of evil? In this world, it is an enemy they will come across and need to bring to justice. So, how will Peter handle it when faced with a criminal like that up close and personal?
Also, any resemblance to real people is purely coincidence as these names are made up and completely fictional.
What will Rhodes and Tony do next? Will Jenkins get to talk to Peter, or is he only going to make Peter's situation worse? And what about that backpack? Will one of the men get curious and take a peak inside? Stay tuned to learn more!
And please be kind... reviews are great motivation!