A/N) Hey! So, Olympics started! Yeah!

Chapter 6

Peter gazed blankly up at the apartment building. The orange and red flickers of light licked at his face and chin, and he just stared. He didn't notice the police cars piling up outside of his home, or the fire engine or the ambulance. He just saw the gigantic, twisting, curling flames that ate up the place he grew up in. Devoured it. Consumed it. No remorse.

Peter could feel the heat from here... the undeniably sweltering heat. It confirmed that this was real, that it wasn't a dream. He couldn't bare it. He felt like a young child again, and his parents had just left him. Little did he know... they weren't coming back. It was just like that; so surreal, something that wouldn't happen to people like the Parkers. Because they were too normal- they were too average to have something like this happen to them.

But it had happened. He could feel the heat, he could smell the ash, and he could taste the flickering soot that flew with the light breeze towards him. He could even hear the snap and crackle, the sizzling, and that horrible hissing. But worst of all, he could see it. He could see it all... he could see all of it.

Suddenly he was alone on the street, and there was no busying people, or water-spraying firetruck. There was no howling sirens and frightened screeches of the people around him. All he could sense was the apartment. It was the only thing that existed in this black abyss...

He fell to his knees and sobbed loudly. In reality, he knew that there was other people here, but he didn't care. All the same, he stuffed a fist into his mouth, but didn't take his eyes off of the building. He just let the water blur his vision, let the tears spill out, onto his face and gather at the bottom of his chin. It was all too surreal, and he couldn't take it. He didn't want to take it. He was 16 for Pete's sake! He wasn't even out of highschool yet! He didn't need to deal with more death in his life. He wanted a break.

He could barely feel the sensation of being tugged lightly to his feet, and drawn towards an officer. Apparently a neighbor had recognized him as a resident of the apartment, and decided to bring him him forwards. Peter wouldn't mind too much, but one of the frst things the officer said to him was 'We'll take care of you'. Or something along those lines, anyway. Peter had wanted to laugh at that. He was a 'shoot on sight' criminal, according to the police. They didn't want to look after him!

After the first few words, Peter just zoned out. He wasn't even trying to seem like he was paying attention, he was just staring blankly at the fire behind the officer's shoulder. The firemen were doing a good job of putting it out, but even so, the flames flickered in the back of his mind, like a hypnotizing swirl.

He nearly didn't notice being lead to a police car, or the pitying looks. And he certainly didn't remember the car ride to the hospital. Everything passed by in a blur, like a fuzzy memory, or a hazy thought. It didn't occur to him until he woke up the next morning that his suit was still in his bag. Or that his bag was not on his back anymore...

The rest of the next day passed by quickly, and Peter didn't even bother trying to recall it. He remembered waking up in a white room, being taken to the police station, and being given some kind of lecture. He didn't really pay attention much, but he caught a few tidbits.

"Your in shock, Peter..."

"... You'll be staying with Mrs. Mason..."

"...You're very brave, Peter..."

"... Your aunt will be staying at the hospital..."

Peter nearly fell off his chair when he heard mention of his aunt. It snapped him completely out of his daze and he sat up completely straight, eyes trained completely onto the officer with undivided attention. The officer, (who he now realised was called 'E.W Rutland' with a flick of a glance at the nameplate on the desk in between them) gave him a weird look, and was just about to continue her speach, but Peter interrupted first.

"M-my... aunt?" He asked, almost afraid of what the answer could be. His voice cracked a little because of how little he had used it recently, but he wondered if fear had anything to do with it as well.

The female officer looked over at him with calculating eyes. "Yes, Peter. Your aunt was heavily burned in the fire-" She was interupted by the screach of chairlegs against the floor, as Peter leaped to his feet. She visibly winced at the sound, but curiously looked over at Peter.

It had not even crossed Peter's mind that aunt May could have been alive. As soon as he had seen the flames... He never imagined... He needed to see her!

"... Mr. Parker?"

"But then I can go see her, right?" He asked, staring urgently into her eyes with a pleading look.

E. W Rutland took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose. She had dealt with grieving children before. Most of them cried and cried and sobbed 'til their throats were raw and their eyes were glowing red. Some of them denied death like an atheist would god. And then there was those who were so used to death, that they didn't even bat an eyelid. (Such a reaction gave the officer an empty feeling deep in her stomach. It meant she hadn't been doing her job well enough).

Peter did none of these things. He cried, was devastated, and then stopped. He stopped, stared, and sat down. He didn't seem to notice anything at all. The officer had assumed that he was in shock, and that appeared to be the case, but what was he now? He didn't seem to be grieving. He looked determined and focused, so unlike what he had been moments ago.

"Peter..." She said calmly "You have already been to see her today." She wasn't sure how Peter would react to that, but she dearly hoped there would be no crying.

Fortunately there was no crying, but the look on his face said it all. 'How could I have not noticed that? How could I have missed that?' Peter collapsed back into the chair with a defeated look on his face, and stared down at his hands guiltily. "I..." He mumbled, but he never finished his sentence. He just let the word hang unpleasantly in the room. Had he really forgotton visiting his own aunt? How could he have? Was she really that unimportant to him, deep down? Silence consumed the two, until officer Rutland began to talk again.

Peter paid more attention this time, but his mind was still on other things. He tried to listen to how he would be living at a children's home for a while until his aunt got better. He would be living with 'Mrs. Mason' about seven blocks away from his school.

The officer finished off her speach and stood up. Peter followed, and mentally prepared himself for the rest of the day.

.o0|O|0o.

Tony Stark was personally going to visit Ravencroft prison. After witnessing the tape recordings, Tony had looked up the current position of all of the villains, finding that all of them were, in fact, in jail. He couldn't quite believe this, so he made sure to pay them a visit as soon as he could.

Right now was as soon as he could, so Tony had decided to check it out. He had left Sam in charge of the surveilance systems (not trusting capsicle or Thor with such precious tech. Who knew what they could do to his incredibly valuable holo-screens? And also because Clint and 'Tasha were still out of town, looking for Loki). Instead, Cap-cap had been sent to some apartment building because of some 'freak fireball incident'. (According to witnesses a ball of fire had been aimed straight at the building. Personally, Tony thought that it sounded like a cry for attention from civilians. Maybe they hoped to catch a glimpse of the legendary Cappety-cap-cap)? Inwardly Tony snickered at the nickname, but never outwardly. There was a fanboy in the plane- he could tell by the way the guy jiggled from foot to foot nervously.

Tony was on one of Ravencroft's specially made plane. It was hard, cold, and grey, and that was about all that came to mind when you looked at the interior design. On the plane along with him was a pilot and his co, along with three guards, all of whom were armed with over-large guns that were probably only for show because of prisoner rights. But, Tony presumed, they could have some kind of sleeping dart inside. Or perhaps it was a taser in disguise? Tony was just preparing to have an amazing, incredible debate that included himself, a Bruce-voice and a Cappie-cap-voice when the Captain announced that they would be landing soon.

'About time.' Tony said internally. He casually glanced down at his watch. He had gotten on the plane a little under an hour ago. He knew he should have taken his suit instead. (He did have a suit that c

ould transform into a briefcase with him, but it would've been rude to launch in the middle of a plane ride. And Cap and Pepper would chew him out for it. Mostly because Cap and Pepper would chew him out for it, but whatever).

Absently, Tony took out a pen and a scrap piece of paper from his back pocket, and scribbled his name onto the paper. He replaced the pen and reached up to hold onto a metal bar that hung above his head. Just

in time for the lowering of the plane, and the shock of the landing.

As the back of the plane opened up, Tony strutted confidently passed the fan. He discreetly handed the guard the piece of paper and walked out with a business-like posture. He could hear the repressed squeal of not-so-manly delight. Tony smirked pleasedly and strode his way over to the entrance of the prison, waiting for access. He hadn't alerted Fury or anyone of his visit, (other than the Avengers), but he was counting on his status as an Avenger to allow him in.

Despite the incredibly high security, and the fact that he was being tailed by two stern-faced guards, he was allowed in simply by showing his face. And fingerprints. And eye retina, and... You know what? It didn't matter. Either way, he was now sitting in a chair, waiting for Otto Octavius, A.K.A Doc. Ock, A.K.A Doctor Octopus in a small concrete room with one barred window and a glass wall. How cliche. And gloomy.

When he entered, Tony was intrigued to see that not only did he have hand-cuffs over his hands, but also the metal tentacles that he had read about. Apparently this guy was a genius and had created the tentacles in order to help him out with research. Perhaps that wasn't enough for him, though, because he had turned into a super-villain. Tony wondered vaguely if he would have made business deals with such a man, had he not become so... villanious.

Anyway, the idea was that because he was the smartest out of all of the villains caught on tape, he would probably be the one that organized the whole thing. No one really knew for sure how they had escaped, or, in fact, why they had come back. Because despite having seemingly escaped, they were also still here. So an interrogation was in order, really.

Doc. Ock sat himself in the seat opposite Tony, behind the (bullet-proof) glass wall. He seemed relatively calm, despite the rumours circling around that he was insane and should be kept in a padded cell surrounded by concrete, steel, titanium, vibranium, and adimantium. And those are some very hard materials.

The guards didn't leave the room, but they did stand back a little for the most amount of privacy. Doctor Octo didn't even pause before he spoke in a bored tone. "Tony Stark."

"Otto Octavius." Tony said in return, in the same tone. Two could play at that game. "Not so nice to meet you, especially under these circumstances." He smirked.

Octavius scowled at him. "Why am I here?" He asked, cutting straight to the chase. Tony leaned back into his seat.

"Why," he said gesturing around with the same smirk on his face. "Can't geniuses hang out every once in a while?"

"No." Was the bland answer.

Tony sighed. "Fine. I'm going to interrogate you on some things." He stopped for a moment, hoping to get a rise out of the Doctor. After all, people revealed most truths when they were upset.

It seemed to work, because Otto's scowl deepened. "On what?" He spat, not entirely curious, but wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

Tony shrugged and leaned forwards again. "Why do you think?" He asked easily.

The meta-octopod growled and leaned forwards with his teeth clenched. "I. Don't. Know." He ground out, like it was difficult. And for a genius scentist, it was. Tony knew that from first-hand experiences.

"Well," Said Tony, all too pleased with Doc. Ock's reaction. He rolled his shoulders back in a relaxed manner, but gave the Doc what he wanted. "A couple of weeks ago, you were spotted- on camera -breaking into a government building." He was sure that S.H.I.E.L.D would not appreciate him blabbing about them, especially to a supposed deranged scientist. They were a secret corporation, after all. "I'd like to hear what you were doing that night."

"I was here." Said the Doctor, glaring straight at him. "I have witnesses. Are we done now?"

Tony rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The Doc wasn't stupid- he knew not to change his story. So he was probably not going to say anything much more of worth, plus, he was right. He did have witnesses, and camera footage on his side. Tony kind of wanted to hang around the guy more; maybe irritate him a little- make him bang his head on the glass wall. But he had better things to do, and who knew what the other Avengers could get up to while he was away. They were like children, really. Pepper said that was why he fit in so well...

"Sure. But I might pay you another visit soon, so..." Tony stood up. "Hang tight, Doc-to-Octo."

A/N) Yep. Lead you on a bit about that whole aunt May thing, didn't I? Sorry about that. Also, sorry to you who PM'd me. I was gonna tell you at first, but then I figured it'd be spoilers, so I didn't.

Yeah, it was short. Yeah, I'm slacking. And yeah, the scenes were terrible. But, like I've mentioned before, other fandoms are calling to me, so my muse is in a low.

Also! Thank you to the reviewer who told me how 'Spider-man' is spelled! Now I know.