CHAPTER TWELVE: VANISHED

Tony Stark

. . .

. . .

"Again."

Images fill the screens raised in a semi-circle around the room, playing different clips, the same scenes at different vantage points.

The hunter going by the name Logan West, seizing Spiderman by his throat atop a moving bus on the freeway. Blow after blow struck across the kid's face, his abdomen, each one as powerful as if Rogers or Barnes was delivering them.

"Freeze frame."

Logan West's face is fully lit by a passing street lamp, the orange glow highlighting the thick scars, the black eyes, the hungry snarl.

The coffee I drank earlier churns in my stomach.

"Run the facial recognition program again."

"Why bother?" asks Sam, arms crossed. "I don't think a different angle is going to make a match magically appear."

"Unless you have something helpful to say, Wilson, kindly step out of my personal bubble."

"I'm five feet away from you."

"That's about nine inches too close."

"You're not going to find anything other than the fake identity he constructed," Sam insists. "Let Bucky do his Winter Soldier thing and dredge up old contacts."

I deign to face him. "So you'd like me to what, go join Pepper with picking out table linens for the wedding?"

"You need to talk to Peter." Sam's arms are folded across his chest, his expression unfaltering. "Forget about your pride, Tony. Talk to him."

"In case you hadn't noticed," I say through a tightening jaw. "He doesn't exactly want anything to do with me at the moment. And the last thing I'm feeling right now is pride."

"He's pissed. Understandably so. But the best thing you can do right now is apologize."

I turn back to the screens.

"Facial Recognition Complete. Pulling up the profile for Logan West."

"You threatened to take his suit, Tony."

"I don't need a recap."

"You could use a reality check."

"You're the therapist, if you want someone to talk to the kid, maybe it should be you."

"We have talked. He's not mad at me."

"Good for you. Get out."

He doesn't. Instead, he has the audacity to lean against the bar, elbows propped up casually behind him, content to wait.

"DUM-E Jr., kindly escort Mr. Wilson from the premises."

The robotic arm obediently rolls forward from its place in the corner, clawed hand opening and closing in what I can only assume is supposed to be a threatening gesture. Sam snorts. "Cute, Tony. You want me to leave? I'm gone. But you brought me into this because you trusted me with Peter's best interests. You should trust me with yours, too."

I turn, but the elevator doors are already closing in front of Sam's face, his expression fixed in a way that clearly says, "Your move."

I spare a glance at DUM-E. "Junior, what the hell was that?"

The robotic arm swings towards me, then repeats its clawed gesture.

"An instant pot would have been more intimidating."

DUM-E Jr. slumps pathetically, and I turn back to everything F.R.I.D.A.Y. has pulled up on Logan West. Every picture, every detail, every document . . . faked, forged, useless.

Much as I hate to admit it, Barnes has a significantly better chance of figuring out who and where this guy is.

It sits like a painful air bubble trapped beneath my sternum.

There has to be something I can do, something more than relocating the Parkers to a safe house, a move which Happy Hogan was more than happy to assist with. I combed through the programs Ned Leeds created to supersede my own designs within Peter's suit. I analyzed everything, again and again, to see just where I went wrong.

I don't believe for a second that the man hunting Peter is doing this on his own. It would be impossible to chase down and assault the kid and infiltrate my tech, as well as the street cams throughout the city at the same time.

If I can't find the hunter, I'll find his IT guy instead.

Talk to Peter.

He doesn't need to hear another apology from me, another excuse for why I failed him this time. Words aren't going to get me anywhere.

It should have been me. Sticking by Peter's side, figuring out how the footage all around him was being manipulated, not doubting for a second that what was happening was real. It should have been me, not an admittedly talented nerdy-teenage-best friend.

But it wasn't.

So I'm going to eliminate this threat, wipe every trace of it off the face of the Earth. That will be my apology.


Peter Parker

. . .

. . .

I hold out my fist, hesitating for only a moment before knocking on the door. Then I stuff my hands back into my pockets and wait.

Just when I think there's no one home, the door opens just a crack, not even wide enough for the deadbolt chain to go taut. I see a flash of an eye before the door closes again. There's a series of clicks, and then it opens fully.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey," says Bucky.

"Do you have a sec?"

"Yeah." He steps aside, and I awkwardly shuffle into his apartment. To his credit, he doesn't ask why I'm not holed up at the new safe house.

"Huh," I say, stopping in the living room. It's like . . . empty. Just a ratty recliner, a ninety inch 4K TV that looks wildly out of place sitting on its own cardboard box, and a couple pieces of used furniture that have seen better days. "This is . . . nice."

Bucky snorts. "I haven't gotten around to furnishing it yet. The TV was a gift."

"Well, I know what I'm getting you for Christmas this year," I say.

He makes his way to the kitchen, opening his fridge and staring inside. "I only have beer and a bottle of ketchup."

"I'm good. I uh . . . I heard you're looking into Logan West. Sam told me," I say after Bucky looks up. He closes the fridge and leans back against the counter.

"I am. Just got back from a meeting with an old contact."

My stomach gives a little lurch, my fingers clenching in my pockets. "Any leads?"

He watches me for a moment, and I fight the urge to squirm. Here it comes. He'll be evasive, or cryptic, or tell me he and the others have it handled. Or that he found nothing at all.

"His name is Sergei Kravinoff."

My chin lifts, eyes widening slightly.

"But most of the criminal underworld know him as Kraven the Hunter," says Bucky.

"Hunter? He's gone after people before?"

"Not people. He's a glorified poacher who also runs a smuggling ring. Not too long ago he went after one of the Wakandan panthers. T'Challa's been searching for him ever since."

Kraven the Hunter.

Kraven.

It suits that scarred, savage face much more than Logan West, animal trainer.

"Wait, he's never hunted people?" I repeat, brows furrowing. "Ever?"

"He's executed people who have either betrayed or fled his operations. But hunting is more of a hobby of his."

"A hobby."

"He's gone for increasingly bigger and more dangerous game. The Wakandan panther was his most recent trophy."

I pace through his mostly empty living room, rubbing at my lower lip and chin, thinking hard. "I knew that."

"About the panther?"

"No. He told me he's never hunted human prey before. Someone . . . someone tried to pay him to kill me, but he wouldn't take their money. He hunted me for the thrill of it."

Bucky moves back into the living room with me. "Kraven's never done mercenary work before."

"He has some hang up about honor," I say, turning to face him. "But a pretty messed up view of it if you ask me."

Bucky's frowning deeply. "I need to do some digging on who wants you dead."

"Seems to be a growing list."

"It'll get shorter if I have anything to do with it," says Bucky blackly.

"So what's the next step?"

"I debrief with Stark and the others, then we identify the guy who set Kraven on your trail. Once we find them, we'll be able to find Kraven and take him out."

"There's still no sign of him?"

Bucky shakes his head, frustration tightening his features. "Not a trace. But no one can disappear forever. I'll find him."

"We'll find him," I correct, staring him down and waiting for him to shut me down.

He gives me a long look. "There's a very good chance we'll need you to lure him into the open."

"Done," I say. "Just tell me when and where."

"In the meantime," Bucky says. "We have one more task to complete."

"What's that?"

"We're going to the movies."

I stare. "We're . . . what?"

"The movies. Tonight. Bring your friend. Pick something outrageously nerdy that you know I'd never go see on my own."

I scratch the back of my head. "Not that it doesn't sound fun, because I immediately have a movie picked out and it's going to be awesome . . . but, why? Shouldn't we be focusing on finding Kraven?"

"He's laying low, and we have a lot of people on it. What you need is a chance to relax and get your mind off being hunted for a couple hours. You won't have to worry about Kraven showing up if I'm with you. And on the off chance he actually does, I'll take him out. Problem solved."

"I . . . okay. Okay, yeah. Great. I'll text you the time?"

"I'll pick you guys up at the safe house." Bucky pockets his wallet and his keys and follows me out of the apartment, locking it behind him. "I have to get to Avengers tower. You good heading back on your own?"

It means more than I'll admit out loud that he's not coddling or patronizing me. Protecting me, helping me, yes. But not treating me like a fragile kid.

"Yeah, I'm good," I say. "I'll uh, I'll see you later then."

We part ways from the lobby of his building, and I take a moment to survey the street around me, the sun's rays warm on my face. And I find that I'm not on edge like I expected to be. That feeling of being watched, being hunted, it's gone. For now.

I know Kraven isn't finished with me. He won't be finished until one of us is dead. That kind of fanatic obsession doesn't just go away.

But he underestimated me and my friends. He messed up, and now he's the one being hunted.

I pull out my phone to text Ned.

Me: Dude

Bucky's taking us to the movies

Our pick

Ned: DUDE

DUUUUUUUUUUDE

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Me: ZombieSharks 3

Ned: ZOMBIESHARKS 3

He'll probably never go to the movies with us again.

Me: He'll probably give up on movies entirely

Worth it to watch his reaction tho

Ned: That part in the trailer where the shark eats the zombies and then

Becomes the ultimate predator, ZOMBIESHARK

LMAO

He's going to hate us

Me: Again, worth it. Lol

Getting tickets for 7

Ned: Cool, cool

Any word on psycho hunter?

Me: Tell you when I see you

Ned: K.

. . .

. . .

Any word from Mr. Stark?

Me: . . .

. . .

No

It's fine. Don't know what I'd say to him right now anyways

Ned: Yeah

Should make for a super comfortable time at his wedding

When is that?

Me: Uhhhh

I think like a week

Also we need to take Bucky to Ikea

Ned: Random. But I'm in

Those meatballs are bomb

Me: He has like nothing in his apartment

It's kinda sad

Ned: I was an interior decorator in another life

How does he feel about robin's egg blue?

Color of the year

Me: How do you even know that?

Ned: How do you not?

Me: Lol

See you in a bit

Ned: K. Be safe

That was from May

Me: Will do


When I open the door to the safehouse, May is standing there, two steaming mugs in her hands, and I'm hit with the smell of rich chocolate.

"I saw you heading up on the security cameras," she says, taking a sip from her mug as she hands me mine. "Come on, let's sit."

"Thanks," I say, and follow her over to the pristine leather couch nestled against a brick wall beneath a thick shelf overflowing with fake plants.

The safe house we were quickly ushered to following the events of Ned's big reveal is only a few blocks away from Avengers Tower. It's modeled after a way nicer apartment than ours, but it's actually on the thirteenth floor of a corporate tower, disguised as a back office on a floor that nobody uses.

"I'm sorry," I say automatically, because it's just best to start out all my talks with apologies nowadays.

"For?"

I rack my brain for a minute. "For not being honest with you about my suspicions about Logan. Who's actually named Kraven, by the way."

Instead of looking pissed or sad or scared, like she usually is during our heart to hearts, she smirks at me over her hot chocolate. "Will you quit looking like you're waiting for me to throw this hot chocolate in your face? You aren't in trouble."

"I'm not?"

"Do I wish you were just honest with me from the beginning? Of course. I'm always asking for honesty. But I had a really good talk with Ned, and I get why you didn't tell me."

"You . . . you do?"

"But you should know by now that I'm always going to be on your side, no matter what," May says. "I would have believed you, you know. And I never would have gone out with Logan."

"Look, don't be mad, but . . . as much as I didn't want you going out with him, it ended up that I sort of needed you to."

That has her brow lifting.

"It got him out of his apartment," I admit. "And I was able to confirm his evil secret identity."

"So you're saying you used me as bait," May says flatly.

"Well . . . I mean, yeah," I say in a small voice. "But you were safe the whole time, I swear. I had Happy tailing you."

"I'm aware."

"And without you I never would have been able to convince Mr. Stark that I'm not crazy, and that Logan was evil, and–"

Her brow is still raised.

I start chugging my hot chocolate, eyes watering at the intense heat going down my throat.

"Again," she says, her voice a little less congenial, and a lot more wry. "Honesty. If you're going to include me in a plan, you tell me first. If I'd known, I could have done a better job of keeping him at the restaurant while you searched his apartment."

I blink. "Huh. I . . . didn't think about that."

"Clearly." She ruffles my hair. "I hear you're going to the movies tonight with Ned and Bucky."

"If that's okay with you," I say quickly, still thrown by the fact that I'm not in trouble.

"Go have fun," she says. "You could use it. And I could use a night in. Happy said he'd bring home take out."

"A night in? With Happy?"

"Mmhmm."

I peer at her. "Am I . . . missing something? Are you and Happy—?"

May pats my head, knocking back the rest of her hot chocolate. "You have your secrets, kiddo. I have mine. Text me when you guys are on your way back."

"Okay," I say, staring after her as she takes my empty mug along with hers back into the kitchen, wondering what the hell just happened.


Bucky Barnes

. . .

. . .

I flex my fingers, relishing the ache in my right hand.

It felt good. Better than I'll admit, even. To put on the coat of the Winter Soldier. To walk straight into that bar I used to frequent and slip into the corner to wait.

My old contact, Jerry Vanders, came in at his usual time of one o'clock in the afternoon and ordered his jack and coke, his face ruddy and weary. Feeling somewhat merciful, I allowed him to finish his first drink and order his second before standing from the corner booth.

His eyes found mine almost instantly, his body going rigid, his face losing almost all color.

And when I turned and went into the back room, he didn't dare do anything but follow.

The door closed with a soft snick behind him, and I met his eyes, keeping my face cold, expressionless.

"Logan West," was all I said.

A flicker of recognition, and after a moment's hesitation, he told me all he knew.

Logan West was a new alias. An identity fabricated solely to get close to the Parkers.

Sergei Kravinoff was born and raised in Volgograd, Russia and began his hunting career in Kenya. There are rumors he encountered a witch doctor there, and somehow became one of the enhanced, with strength and speed to rival Steve, or even me.

A potion, they said.

I know better. A serum to enhance strength, speed, agility to superhuman proportions. Perhaps one to rival the one they put in me. In Steve.

Except this one came with side effects.

Kraven was known for his honor system, yes, and for his big game hunts.

But he also has a reputation for his temper.

"They say he's like an animal," Jerry breathed, sweat sliding down his temple. "The potion gave him some ability to absorb the souls of the beasts he killed with his own hands. And it gives them their strength, their brutality."

"Kraven's unhinged," I tell Sam and Stark over video on my phone, which is propped in its holder on the dash of my car. "Whatever serum he has, it's deteriorating his mind, turning him more savage. The more he takes it, the stronger he gets, but more brutal, less controlled."

"The more he takes?" asks Sam, brows furrowing from the bottom half of my phone screen. "You mean it's not a one and done like the super soldier serum?"

"My sources tell me that every time Kraven travels for one of his big game hunts, a heavily secured case goes with him and doesn't leave his side. He's been seen injecting something into his thigh before hunts. Most assumed it was some sort of adrenaline thing."

"But you think it's this serum he picked up in Kenya," says Sam with a frown. "We need to get a hold of that case."

"We need to get a hold of the brute," says Stark. "Did your source know of any safe houses? Any allies he might turn to and go underground?"

"Negative."

"What about any new friends?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, our friend Elmer Fudd doesn't sound like he has the brainpower to mess with my tech while on his rampages. He's working with someone."

"It's not his usual M.O., but neither is hunting people. Peter said Kraven told him that he was offered money to kill Spiderman, but he decided to do it for the thrill."

Stark's eyes narrow, his jaw set with a fury I feel echoed in my own heated blood. "So not only are we missing the hunter and his I.T. guy, we have to track down the mastermind who tried to put the hit on Peter."

"Essentially," I say, keeping my eyes on the road. "But it's only a matter of time before Kraven shows his hand. He fixates on his game until the trophy is his. He'll keep coming for the kid."

"You think we should set a trap," says Sam.

"I didn't say that."

"You don't have to. It's not a bad idea."

"It's a horrible idea, actually," Stark cuts in with a glare. "I'm all out of other ones though. For now we keep looking. Stretch out all our feelers and see if we can get a hit on where Kraven and his people are hiding. And if it stays quiet, then we get the kid involved."

He says the words as if they are heavy, and a glance shows his shoulders slumped from the weight of them.

And, because I'm feeling like an asshole, I say, "You just want to wait until after your wedding next week, don't you?"

He glares again, but says, "If I get killed before I walk down that aisle, Pepper will make Kraven seem like the epitome of calm. But I'm also not keen on the idea of dangling the kid out like a worm on a hook. So we have eight days to find Kraven on our own. Then we set the trap."

I decide not to mention that I'm already planning on involving Peter in the hunt, or that I'm currently on my way to pick up him and Ned for the movies.

Later, when I'm sitting beside them in a mostly empty theater, my lap filled with bags of popcorn and candy the teenagers insisted on buying, I know I made the right decision. Even when the opening credits start, and I see the utter absurdity I've been dragged to, I just shake my head and hide my wry smile.

Because those ridiculous teenagers are cracking up, and it's the lightest I've seen Peter in a long time.

I don't tell him he's probably the only one I'd endure such idiocy for.


One week later

. . .

. . .

Tony Stark

. . .

. . .

"Where the hell are you?" Rhodey's face fills a small screen to my left.

"Working, can I call you later?"

"No, you can't call me later. You're gonna tell me why your ass didn't get in the car I sent for you an hour ago?"

"I'm working. You should try it sometime."

"You know what I've been working on? Your bachelor party. Which is happening. Right now. Without you. I've spent months on this, and you're not going to bother to show up?"

I sigh, rubbing at my face. "My whole life has been a bachelor party, Rhodes. I appreciate it, really I do, but I can't."

"You're getting married tomorrow," he says like I'm stupid, and I can see the vein in his forehead twitching madly. "And your best friend set up a very nice night for you. I'm coming to get you."

"No, you're not. This can't wait. Rain check, buddy."

And, feeling like a complete ass, I hang up on him.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will give myself a break, will allow myself to be present and focused on Pepper.

Tonight though, and the day after the wedding, and every day after that . . . will be focused on fixing this. On finding Kraven.

A muscle twinges in my back, and I grimace, stretching within the confines of my chair, but finding no relief. So I stand, making my way to one of the windows making up the entirety of the west wall. The city sprawls beneath me, so covered in lights that even the darkened interior of this floor of Avengers Tower is grazed with a dim, orange glow.

I'm getting married tomorrow.

Maybe it'll be a chance to reset with Peter. Weddings are about coming together, right? And you can't be too mad at a guy on his wedding day, no matter how badly he screwed up. That's the hope anyway.

And maybe . . . maybe another olive branch would be including Peter in on this hunt for his stalker. That's the whole point, isn't it? That he was shut out, that he wasn't believed. That we were making choices for and about him like he's still a child, instead of a member of this team that we respect and value.

That I respect and value.

And have faith in.

Tomorrow, I decide. Tomorrow is a new beginning for me and Pepper. And maybe a fresh start with Peter at the reception.

Within the reflection of the glass, I look old and tired. Not exactly the blushing groom to be. I should take a shower, maybe use some of those face masks Lang left in the bathroom to get rid of these dark circles.

But there's something else within the reflection.

A shadow moves behind me. There's a glint, like the eyeshine of animal eyes, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

I whirl, catching a glimpse of bared teeth and a scarred face before everything goes black.


Author's Note

Hello!

I apologize for any plot holes/inconsistencies, etc. in this fic. It's been written over such a long span of time, with huge breaks in between chapters, so I'm sure I've contradicted myself or left things out or whatnot. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Also apologies for the MASSIVE wait in between updates. Life has been the craziest it's ever been. Trying to work from home full time on top of raising a baby (I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE I HAD A BABY who is almost a year old now, I can't believe it!), and keeping up on house work, dinners, time with the husband, time for myself, it's iNSANE. Insane, guys. Most of the time when I have some free time to write, I'm so burnt out the most I can do is read for ten minutes before passing out for much needed sleep.

Anywho! I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH! I keep getting reviews every now and then from new readers who binge my stories and loyal readers checking in, and I have to tell you, every time I get one of these it makes my entire day and urges me to get back to fanfiction. I miss it beyond words. I miss the days of writing for like eight hours without stopping except to scarf down food. Please know that I will NEVER forget any of you, and I truly desire to finish this series, even if it takes a few more years to do so. The next book has a lot written, and I REALLY want to get it to you guys because I think you will absolutely love it. So I am going to do my best to finish this book and get the next one out to you, but because of my schedule I really can't say when the next updates will be or how long it will take me to get there.

As far as updates on my original work, I am still trying to get published! I've been sending out queries but also looking into self publishing. As soon as anything happens on that front, I will let you guys know if you're interested!

So! THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH to everyone who has read and loved this series, who sends me notes and reviews, who reads them again and again. I truly do all of this for you. You mean the world to me. Hopefully will try to update soon! I'd love to hear from you guys! The next chapter is going to be EPIC. Much LOVE!


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COMING (HOPEFULLY SOMEWHAT) SOON:

The epic finale.

The big one.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.

The groom, however, seems to be missing.

The hunter has set his trap well. He knows his prey will come, and this time he is ready.

But so is Peter. This whole being hunted thing? It's getting old, and maybe he's decided to do a little hunting of his own.