CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

THE HUNTED

Tony Stark

. . .

. . .

Waking is a slow, arduous thing. Pain pulses out from a raw spot on the very back of my skull. But the headache is nothing compared to the dread sluicing through my gut.

Shit.

Not this. Not today.

I should try to keep the illusion of unconsciousness and determine my surroundings without alerting my captor.

That's what any of the others would do.

Screw it. I'm too old and too impatient and not today.

I lift my head and pry open my eyes, wincing at the crick in my neck that radiates down my shoulders and spine. So much for my most recent chiropractor appointment. Dr. Levolsi will not be pleased.

That's hoping, of course, that a chiropractor will be all I need to see after this.

I blink and realize, to my great surprise, that I'm exactly where I was last night when I was attacked. In the common room floor of Avenger's tower. Tied to one of the metal chairs that everyone and their mother has been giving me a hard time over.

Damn it, they were right. These aren't chairs. They're torture devices.

Judging by the light streaming in through the wall of windows and balcony to my right, it's still early morning.

I'm not expected at the venue until noon for pictures. Maybe I can still make this work.

There's no one in sight, so I test the cords cinched tightly around my wrists and ankles, flexing my tingling fingers which are more than a little numb. I'm trussed thoroughly and expertly, with not even an ounce of give.

I expected no less from such an avid hunter.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" I venture softly, though I don't expect an answer.

I get none.

So I raise my voice a little enough to call out, "Rhodes, this better not be a belated bachelor party kidnapping. Vengeance doesn't suit you."

As I suspected, it's enough to draw the figure out from somewhere behind me. It makes no sense for his movements to be so silent, so languid, like a jungle cat. Not when he wears thick, worn boots. Not when his gargantuan stature means he could probably win an arm wrestling contest with Barnes or Rogers.

A serum, Bucky said. To give him strength, speed, and agility to rival apex predators.

I wonder if he's on it now, or if he has a dose stashed nearby, ready and waiting.

This past week I've had ample time to memorize the brutal lines of his face, those menacing scars, the black, merciless eyes.

"You caught me at a bad time," I say. "I have somewhere I need to be."

"Do not worry, Mr. Stark. If all goes well, you'll leave in plenty of time to be with your lovely bride."

He's dressed for a hunt.

No armor or tactical gear, just worn boots, dark pants and shirt, a leather, pocketed vest with a furred collar. And around his thick neck, a necklace of animal claws, sharp and glinting in the morning light. He looks out of place against the sleek, modern decor and tech of my tower, and more like he belongs in a sun worn photo set in an African savannah with him crouching beside some poor slaughtered creature.

"But if you have your way," I say. "One of my wedding guests will be mysteriously absent?"

A grim smile curls his lips. "A minor inconvenience for you, I'm sure."

"You and I have very different definitions of what constitutes inconvenience."

"Do we?" Kraven eases himself onto a nearby chair, lounging like a king on a throne. "I've spent months learning my prey, Mr. Stark. If Peter Parker truly meant anything to you, would you not have taken him more seriously?"

Heat burns in my chest, an inferno of rage and shame. My teeth grind together. "You know I took him seriously. I just-" I cut myself off.

He grins and finishes for me. "You just couldn't find me. So, instead, you bat him away like a lion swats at flies. It was much easier to separate the boy from the safety of his pack than I anticipated. Too easy. A shame. I would have enjoyed an even greater challenge. Not that this hasn't been thrilling."

"You call stalking and attempting to murder a teenager thrilling?"

"I do," he says simply. "A unique challenge. A most dangerous game."

"And just how have you been playing that game? How many pawns do you have on the board?" I counter. "The mighty hunter stooped so low as to need a team of his own to take down the friendly neighborhood Spiderman? Who helped you?"

That isn't outrage glittering in his beetle eyes, it's amusement. "Just one, Mr. Stark. I am, without question, the greatest predator this world has ever seen. But I have no skills to compete with your technology."

He says it with a gracious bow of his head, like he's paying me a compliment.

"Who is it?" I demand. "Must be pretty good to have been able to fool me."

"Ah, I'm afraid I cannot tell. We have a contract you see, and I am a man of honor."

"Sure, because the number one rule of the Boy Scouts Code of Conduct is 'On my honor, I shall murder children'."

"He is no child. Peter Parker knew he would have enemies hunting him the day he put on the Spiderman suit. So did you, for that matter. Do not preach morality to me."

"And what now, huh? You're using me as bait in my own tower on my wedding day? A wedding, I'll remind you, that is chock full of Avengers who are already missing me. I thought you were smarter than that. Or is that acid you pump yourself full of eating away at what little brain cells you have left?"

His eyes flash at that, but he says in his deep, accented voice, his head cocked to the side, "What makes you think you'll be missed? You've told everyone you are working. You are not to be disturbed. They all see the guilt you wear for your incompetence. You won't stop until Kraven the Hunter is found, and Peter Parker is safe, even if that means working right up until the wedding march begins."

I can't fight the dread seeping like melted iron through my bone marrow, but I say, "And you're so confident not one of them will come here to drag my ass to the wedding?"

Kraven lifts a massive hand, and one of my own holographic screens lights up the space above us. A video message begins, and with a start, I realize it's my own face staring back at me.

"Good morning, soon-to-be Mrs. Tony Stark," the other me says, humor dancing in his eyes, in the corners of his mouth. "God, that has a nice ring to it. Speaking of rings, Rhodey has them, so don't stress. Have a glass of champagne. Or three. I'm sending a car to take you to a morning of utter luxury and pampering to lull you into a state of relaxed bliss so you don't come to your senses and run off with the best man. I'll see you this afternoon. Oh, and don't worry. My entrance will be spectacular, but I promise it won't steal your thunder."

He winks, then adds seriously, "Here's to day one of our forever, Mrs. Stark."

With a wave of Kraven's hand, the screen disappears.

My fists are clenched. "Well that's annoyingly impressive. And thorough, since I assume you sent similar messages to anyone else who might come for me."

With a cruel smile, he initiates another video.

All my muscles seize up as I stare, wide eyed, at the image of myself. This Tony Stark is battered and bleeding, tied to the same chair I sit in now. He breathes heavily, his eyes glazed with pain as blood drips from his temple.

"I'm sorry, kid," he wheezes at the camera. "I'm so . . . I should have believed you . . . I should have . . . been there. Don't come. Do not come. No matter what Kraven tells you. Tell . . . tell Pepper . . ."

He squeezes his eyes shut, his breath shuddering, the lights around him flickering to shadow. "Come up with something . . . heroic, will you? And . . . and romantic. . . but don't come. Please."

The screen goes abruptly black.

"You son of a bitch."

"I must admit, it is the best trap I have ever laid," says Kraven. "The others are sure to stay away. The boy is sure to come. And thanks to you and the others, he is sure to come alone."

I want to deny it, to tell the monster before me that he's wrong.

But the thing is, after how we handled the past few months, I don't know that he is.

The hunter stands, towering over me before pulling out a roll of duct tape. "Normally I let the bait bleat its terror to draw out the prey. But you're not the wailing type, are you Mr. Stark?"

All I can do is glare as his hands plaster the tape across my mouth.

"And now," he breathes in deeply, closing his eyes, savoring the moment. "Now, we wait. It will not be long. He cares deeply for you, you know. Yearns after your approval like little puppy. A shame you will watch him die."


Twenty minutes.

Though it feels like hours, watching the sun's golden light filter through the walls of windows, tied to this chair.

Kraven disappeared after his final barb, and though I've been straining against the cords cinched tight around my limbs, I've made no progress in loosening them.

Twenty minutes, and then . . .

"Mr. Stark."

The whisper comes to my left, and I crane my neck, heart thumping wildly, to see Spiderman crouched behind my chair.

Shit. Shit.

I'm looking around wildly for anyone else, but Kraven was right.

The kid came, and he came alone.

Gloved fingers begin working at the knots of my left wrist. "Do you know where he is?" Peter breathes, lenses wide.

I shake my head, my heart pounding so damn loud as I look around for the hunter. There's no way Kraven missed Peter coming in. Where is he?

"I got you, just hang–" His whisper is cut off abruptly with a twang and a whoosh of air. I whip my head around to see him dangling upside down high in the air, a metal cord secured around his ankle, the opposite end of it anchored to the ceiling.

Peter looks up at his foot, then back down at where I sit below him. He doesn't bother to whisper this time as he says, "This went differently in my head."

I give him a look of hopeless exasperation.

"I still got this," he assures me. How he manages to keep that easy, light tone like he didn't just fall into the trap of the man who's been hunting him for his head is beyond me.

Then Peter isn't looking at me anymore. He looks to my right, and I stiffen as I follow his gaze to Kraven's bulk in the doorway.

There's a look of savage satisfaction in his shark black eyes, anticipation leaking from his pores to thicken the air.

Terror. That's terror I'm feeling, that Peter must be feeling, but the kid says evenly, "Kraven. How's it hanging?"

A bizarre urge to laugh gets strangled in my throat.

Step by step, the hunter eases into the room. Unhurried.

"Alright, I'm ready," says Peter, cracking his neck side to side.

"Ready? Does death appeal to you so much chelovek-pauk?" asks Kraven.

"Uh, not really, no. I thought-aren't you going to cut me down so we can do our whole cat and mouse chase thing?"

"I have caught you," says the hunter with a smile. "The game is through. I win, and now I claim my trophy."

My body is rigid, even though my insides are vibrating with nerves, with the need to do something, anything.

And then my heart is seizing, because Peter's voice wavers as he says, "Then . . . can I make one last confession?"

Kraven nods, ever the patient, merciful adversary.

I can hear the smile in Peter's suddenly cocky tone as he says, "I've never been great at games. I like to cheat.''

There's a thwip of sound as he fires a web grenade straight into Kraven's eyes, the white, sticky mesh completely enveloping the hunter's face. He staggers back, growling furiously beneath the webbing as his hands start prying at it.

Peter seizes the cord above with both hands and yanks hard. It doesn't release his foot, but the ceiling tile makes a scraping sound as cracks spiderweb out from where the line is bolted in. With another tug, it shatters.

Spiderman, cord still looped around his ankle, falls, but manages to flip his body in a spin to deliver a kick straight into Kraven's chest, sending the hunter flying back.

Then my stomach lurches as my chair is suddenly hefted into the air, my body jostling violently against my overly tight bonds.

I imagine the absurd picture we must make, and I'm grateful any security cameras are down to prevent its capture. Tony Stark, gagged and tied to a chair which is in Spiderman's arms as he bolts across the common room of Avenger's Tower.

Meanwhile, Peter is chanting frantically, breathlessly, "Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap–"

A bellow of fury rips through the air, freed from any muffling web.

Then– "Mr. Stark, I'm really sorry about this."

Well, that can't be good.

It isn't.

I'm thrown into the air, chair and all, my stomach flip-flopping as my fingers curl around the arms of the chair and squeeze for dear life. Up, up, UP–

Onto the open air second landing, the metal legs of the chair scraping against the tile as the first two connect, and then a third. For a second, the chair starts to tilt back dangerously, my stomach dropping, and then I'm heaving my weight forward as much as I can, my heart beating furiously.

The chair settles, and my eyes flutter shut with relief. Even so, I heave myself forward and slowly scoot the chair forward inch by inch, away from the precarious ledge.

Breathing hard through my nose, I crane my neck to find Peter.

Spiderman is locked in combat with the murderous hunter.

He's a streak of red and blue, crouching sideways on the wall one moment and missing Kraven's fist by less than an inch before he's kicking off and flipping over the hunter's head. Kraven's boot collides with the wall instead, leaving a crater in its wake.

Peter lands in a low crouch, springing up like he's weightless as he spins, leg out, and delivers a kick to Kraven's neck.

The hunter staggers back a single step before launching himself forward, teeth bared.

I'm struggling, pulling uselessly, painfully at my bonds.

If only I had my suit, if only I–

My gaze catches on the console embedded into the wall, the black screen innocently reflecting my panicked face.

Yes.

Thus begins the most agonizing, humiliating trek of my life. Scooting my chair forward inch by meager inch, the metal legs scraping loudly against the tile with every jerky motion. If I can get to that console, if I can angle myself just right, I can get everything back online. I can undo whatever Kraven's mysterious friend did to my tech and call up a goddamn legion of Ironman suits.

The sounds from below knot my stomach and send beads of sweat sliding down my temples.

Kraven growls and snarls like a rabid bear. There are thunderous crashes, the screeching of metal, the shatter of glass. And the kid, he's throwing out breathless taunts, keeping the hunter's attention as if Kraven would even give a shit about me with his real target dangling in front of him in red and blue pajamas.

I reach the console. It takes an age to turn my chair around to the side at the right angle, and even longer for my fingers to find the lip of the control panel to swing it open. My wrists strain, fingers reach–

"Mr. Stark, DUCK!"

I throw myself forward as much as I can, ducking down–

There's an ear-splitting screech, a metallic crunch, and sparks rain down on me. I lift my head up enough to see a cue stick from the billiards table embedded into the console, the screen shattered, the entire thing smoking as the stick wobbles back and forth from the impact.

I turn to look down over the edge at Spiderman, who's standing on the pool table, hands up in a gesture of innocence, lenses wide. "I'm so sorry–"

The cord around his ankle is yanked taut, and he slams onto his back with an "Oomph!" before Kraven is on him, the billiards table groaning beneath the weight of the two of them. Peter throws a punch, but his fist is caught in Kraven's hand, who then twists the kid's arm with a huge wrench.

Peter yelps, but the sound is cut off when Kraven's free hand wraps around his throat.

My heart seizes, but Spiderman tucks his knees in and then out, his feet not kicking but sticking, and then the kid is flipping the massive hunter up and over his head.

Kraven goes flying, and the kid is already twisted and on his feet, shaking out his wrist and firing two webs at the wall beyond where the hunter landed. Those lines retract, and Peter goes shooting forward feet first, slamming into Kraven just as the man was getting to his feet.

The hunter's back hits one of the windows making up the wall hard enough for cracks to splinter out across its thick surface.

I wince. I've been on the south end of that move before.

Peter lands on his hands, his momentum carrying his body into a flip before he rights himself in a crouch.

Kraven wipes a line of blood from his mouth.

Then lashes out.

I see him feint left, and the kid buys it, reacting instantly. He twists to the side when he should have darted back, and then a huge, unyielding hand is jabbing right under his ribs. Peter makes a choking sound, his footwork faltering as his body instinctively turns away.

Kraven punches right in between his shoulder blades, and the teen comes soaring back in my direction.

I'm scooting my chair forward again, but there's nothing I can do as Spiderman lands, his body skidding across the slick tile to slam into one of the couches just below me. His breath wheezes slightly, and he starts to push himself up, too slow, too shaky.

Kraven stalks forward as Peter pushes himself to all fours. The hunter sneers, "Get up."

"Working on it," Peter groans.

Kraven reaches for him, and Peter seizes the corner of the couch. With a grunt, he heaves it up and slams it like it's a baseball bat and Kraven's the ball. The hunter's body flies back and collides with one of the support beams holding up the second landing.

It crumples, then snaps at impact. The whole floor shudders beneath me.

Shudders, then drops.

I inhale sharply through my nose as the chair goes sliding down the steep, sudden incline, then I'm free falling.

THWIP!

I'm flying sideways instead of face first toward the floor, mind reeling at the sudden change of direction. Spiderman has my chair in one hand, and he's swinging on a webbed line with the other. We drop on the far side of the room, my teeth clacking painfully as we land.

"You okay, Mr. Stark?"

I look pointedly down at the duct tape wrapped across the bottom half of my face.

"Oh! Right!"

Riiiip!

I blink rapidly as my eyes water at the sudden pain. "Shit!"

"Uh, Mr. Stark, I think the tape tore out some of your mustache."

I give him an incredulous glare.

The rubble of the collapsed landing begins to shift, dust hissing and debris crumbling as Kraven tries to push himself free.

"You still want to take my suit?" asks Spiderman, and there's no disguising the bite in his tone beneath the light humor.

Ouch.

"I won't pretend I didn't deserve that," I say. "Can you get me out of this chair before Jumbo over there breaks free?"

Peter glances back at the hunter, half free and roaring his fury. Then back to me. His lenses narrow. "Do you trust me?"

"Inexplicably," I say without missing a beat.

"Good," he says, then slams his foot into my chair.

With a yell, I go flying backward straight into the window. The same window Kraven slammed into and splintered.

The window that shatters the moment my chair hits it.

There's the roaring of wind as it batters into me, the terror of freefall as I tip into empty air with shards of glass gleaming in the sunlight. I think I'm screaming, but the wind takes the sound straight out of my throat.

A shadow blocks out the sun, and with a sickening lurch, I'm not falling.

I'm flying.

Still tied to this goddamn chair.

I glance at my rescuer, his face mere inches from mine, the light glancing off his goggles.

"Try not to swoon," Sam says, metal wings spread as we glide between skyscrapers. "You're heavy enough without becoming deadweight."

"Peter–"

"He's got it."

"Turn us around, birdbrain! He needs our help!"

"He doesn't," says Sam over the wind. "He needs us to get to the compound for phase three of the plan."

"Wha–I'm sorry, phase three? What plan?"

"The plan to use you as bait to get Kraven out in the open."

I gape at him, rendered speechless as my brain works to catch up. "Kraven holding me hostage as bait for Peter was actually Peter's plan? When did he come up with this? Why the hell wasn't I told?"

"I told you to talk to him."

My mouth claps shut as I give Wilson a fierce glare. "It's my wedding day."

"Pepper very happily gave us permission. You're just going around pissing everybody off, huh? Now I suggest keeping your mouth shut for the rest of the flight. Wouldn't want to swallow any bugs now, would we?" Sam says with a smug smirk.


Peter Parker

. . .

. . .

Rubble clatters behind me, but I wait to turn back to it until I see the gleam of Sam's metal wings and know that Mr. Stark is on his way to safety.

I can't believe this is working.

When I ran the idea by Bucky after our movie, to not wait and use myself as bait, but to use Mr. Stark instead, I expected to be shut down or blown off. But a thoughtful look crossed his face. Then he called up Sam and asked him to meet us at the safe house to discuss an idea.

"We aren't going to find Kraven unless he wants to be found," I said, perched on the counter in front of Ned, May, Happy, Sam, and Bucky. "And he knows I'm protected, he'll try to get me on my own. And I think he's going to try to set a trap to do it. I propose we set one first."

"And you think he'll use Tony as bait?" asked Sam. "Why not someone else?"

"Because everyone else is here. And Mr. Stark has made it pretty clear he wants to be alone. Plus with the wedding and everything, it just . . . it makes sense, you know?"

And fight or no, he's still my mentor. Kraven's watched me long enough to know how much he means to me, even with how rocky things have been recently.

"We let Kraven take Stark," mused Bucky, leaning against the wall near Ned.

"I'm not opposed to this plan," said May.

"It's pretty risky," added Happy.

"It's smart," Bucky cut back in. "Let Kraven set his trap, think he has the upper hand. Then we spring one of our own. You sure you want to do this?"

After a long moment, I nodded. "He thinks he knows me. That I'll choose to isolate myself again after everything." I looked up at them, at all of them. "He's wrong."

And so we planned.

There was a small part of me that squirmed with guilt knowing we were playing on Mr. Stark's relentless determination to find Kraven, that it would keep him on his own and easy for Kraven to kidnap.

But it was a good plan. And another part of me, though I will never admit it, kind of enjoyed the look on Mr. Stark's face when I kicked him out the window.

I turn, just as Kraven rises from the rubble, covered in streaks of white dust that pours off his shoulders as he straightens.

"Kind of you," he growls, a strange expression on his face. "To spare your mentor from watching you die."

"Kind is my middle name," I say, shrugging off the now loosened cord around my ankle.

"And yet you did not ask your compatriots to rescue you as well?"

"I'm not sure how long you've been watching me, man. But I'll let you in on a little secret since I'm feeling kind." My tone is still bright, but there's something steely in it now, something that wasn't there before. "I've been kidnapped. And I've been hunted. By an entire race of the greatest hunters, not in the world, not in the galaxy, but in the freaking universe. What makes you think you even stand a chance of doing what they couldn't?"

Kraven's black eyes seem to expand as I talk, to swallow up the whites of his eyes.

I have a knack for pissing people off, and I'm relying on it.

"Compared to them?" I continue. "You're a creep with a demented hobby in need of serious psychological evaluation. You're nothing."

And the words, they aren't just taunting bravado, I realize. Thinking of the Dravec hunters, their masked faces, their red eyes, their cruel weapons . . . they were monsters straight out of my worst nightmares. But Kraven? He's just a man.

I've faced worse. I've been worse.

And I don't know why I was ever afraid of him.

Kraven breathes heavily, his eyes solely black, and what I mistook for rage I now realize is actually hunger. Relentless, all consuming, desperate hunger.

I didn't piss him off. I just made the hunt that much more interesting. And-and there's a syringe in his fist, a syringe he jabs into his thigh as he breathes in deep through his nose.

He lunges, leopard quick, and I dodge one blow, then two. I block a punch with my forearm and divert his momentum to the side, exposing his torso and slamming my own fist into his ribs. Kraven grunts, taking one step back before he's coming for me again, fingers curled like claws.

The fight takes all of my focus.

Because yes, Kraven is just a man, but the serum coursing through his veins makes him fast and agile, lends him unnatural strength, like he's a super soldier, like he's one of the enhanced.

He moves like an animal. Brutal and instinctive, his blows getting wilder the longer we fight.

And there's the secret.

The more serum he injects, the more unhinged he becomes, the less controlled. Losing reason and becoming all instinct. Becoming an animal.

Which is exactly what I need him to be.

I feel myself go on the defensive, darting away, ducking just out of reach. Flipping and spinning just before he can touch me, but staying just close enough to be infuriating. It's difficult, because he's so freaking fast, but I'm much smaller than his bear-like bulk.

Kraven lets out a snarl as I flip away for the umpteenth time, just as his hands would have closed around my throat.

Ok, got him all riled up, now I just have to–

I dart back, or I try to, as he moves lightning fast toward me, but his boot connects with my sternum, and I go crashing into the floor, skidding along it like a hockey puck on an ice rink.

I don't get up fast enough either. His knee is driving into my chest, and there's no room to take in even an ounce of air. His fist connects with the side of my face, pain blasting through my skull once, twice, three times. I feel my teeth tear into the side of my cheek, into my tongue.

I taste blood and see red.

Then I'm catching Kraven's fist before it can punch me again, and with my other hand I jab him hard in the throat. He lets out a wheezing sound, and then I slap the spider emblem on my chest.

Droney is unleashed, and instead of darting away, eight sharp mechanical legs flare out with a threatening clicking sound. It goes savage, slamming into Kraven's face and driving its sharp appendages into the side of his head, like it's one of those face huggers from the old Alien movies.

Kraven rears back, and I suck in precious air, choking a little on the blood I inhale before I'm lurching to my feet.

I seize Kraven's shoulder and arm, shoving him down and then driving my elbow into his spine. He drops, but makes a grab for my ankle. I dart back just as one of his meaty hands grabs onto Droney.

With one angry squeeze, Droney crumples within his fist.

And when Kraven looks up, lip curling, blood trickling down the sides of his face, I finally see the rage I've been waiting for.

I run.


I lost sight of Kraven miles ago.

But I don't slow down. I know he's on my tail, just out of sight, probably thrilling in the chase and hopped up on another dose of his savage serum.

"Paging Spiderman, come in, Spiderman."

"What's up, Guy in the Chair? Dude, we really need to get you a shorter nickname."

"Hmm, agreed. Something way more badass. Satellite's tracking your position. ETA is two minutes."

"And Kraven?"

"Right behind you, good buddy."

"Is everyone in position?"

"Roger that. Just waiting for you to bring home the bacon. By the way, Peter, this is the COOLEST plan you've ever come up with. Much better than the break into the zoo one."

"You're just saying that because we're about to get to your part of the plan."

"Well, I mean, I did come up with the best part."

"No argument here," I say from where I'm clinging to the side of a freight truck making its way through a grove of trees. "Spiderman out."


The room is shrouded in shadows. Thick, metal shutters obscure the floor to ceiling windows on one side of the massive space. Above, beams crisscross in a bizarre sort of catwalk, lined with an array of sensors and lights. All dark, all silent.

I wait in the middle of the room, sitting with my legs crossed in front of me, my mask half peeled up as I chug from a bottle of water.

The door opens, a hulking silhouette filling its frame.

"There you are!" I say, lowering the water and screwing on the cap. "Thought I might have lost you back there."

Even in the dark, the scars clawed across his face are vivid, making them look almost freshly made. His rough, accented voice echoes between us, a low growl wrapped around every word. "You think this compound can shelter you from me? You think your friends can save you?"

"Wait, you mean you haven't figured it out yet?" I laugh when he doesn't answer. "Dude, you need to lay off the crazy juice, you aren't thinking straight. This isn't me hiding behind the Avenger's skirts and getting cornered because no one's home."

I gesture around us. "This? It's a trap for you, amigo."

A low, guttural laugh, then he says, as if he didn't hear me at all, "Shall I mount your head above my fireplace? Or send it to Tony Stark's bride as a wedding present? Decisions, decisions."

"Uh, can we not use the word mounting, please?"

As he gets closer, I can see just how much his serum is affecting him, and I wonder just how many doses he's taken. His veins are bulging and stark with a greenish hue against his skin. Sweat beads across his forehead, his neck, his arms, and his hair is wild, strands loosened from where they've been tied back to hang limp around his face.

And his eyes . . .

Shark's eyes, entirely black and ravenous.

He licks his lips, nearly trembling with the anticipation of taking my life.

"At last," he breathes, more to himself than to me. "The greatest hunt, the ultimate trophy. Mine."

"You aren't looking so good, buddy," I say, pushing to my feet and shoving my mask back down over my face. "How 'bout I make this place a little more comfy for you?"

And right on cue, a toneless female voice says, "Commencing training sequence 4-730A."

High above us, the lights whir into action, sending thin blue beams and laser dots crisscrossing the entire room in a rippling rush. I keep my eyes locked with Kraven as the beams widen, brighten, and all around us the hiss and chug of hydraulics as the room resets and alters itself.

The hunter doesn't look away, not until the blinding flash dissipates, and then he seems to realize we aren't in a massive gymnasium space anymore.

"Welcome," I say with a flourish. "To the jungle."

All around us is a dense thicket of towering jungle trees, dressed in matted vines and ivy, crowded by ferns and fallen logs and shrubbery. It's night, the dark cast illuminating the alien trees with veins of pulsing red light, the only light offered to us.

Not just a jungle. A Dravec jungle.

And it was Ned's idea.

"Are you sure you're ok with this, man?" Ned asked when he told me his plan of how program Mr. Stark's training V.R.. "I thought it would be like, poetic justice, and a chance for you to work through some stuff at the same time, but if it's too much-"

"It's not too much. It's perfect," I'd said.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

And I am, even as telltale prickles needle down my spine at the horribly familiar setting.

I have to face this. I have to face him. And if there's any arena I know how to survive in, it's this Dravec alien jungle.

Kraven's teeth are bared in a demented, carnivorous grin. "Samaya opasnaya igra."

I lower myself into a crouch, my heartbeat a hammer pounding every vein in my body. "Game on."

We move at the same time, Kraven tearing through the trees toward me as I leap up, firing a web to a branch that I know is actually a beam high above. I'm swinging, glancing over my shoulder as Kraven kicks off a tree with unnatural agility, then another, and another until he's running across thick branches like a rabid Tarzan.

I can hear his heaving breath, can imagine the heat of it on the back of my neck, and my pulse spikes.

I fire another web, kicking off the trunk of a tree and swinging in a new direction, straight through a narrow gap between branches, one I hear Kraven blasting through with his bulk. Chunks and splinters of broken branches soar past me, flickering as the virtual aspect fades, then dies, and its shards of metal and pipe that clatter to the ground below us.

Gritting my teeth, I kick off another tree, flipping up and back so I come up just above the rampaging hunter.

I land hard on his shoulders, and he staggers, losing his balance and tipping toward the ground. His hands reach out, curved like he imagines they're claws, and he scrapes down the side of a tree as he falls, as I stick to a branch and let him.

It slows his descent only a fraction, and then he's hitting the ground, landing on one knee, breathing hard. His head snaps up and the face he makes is somewhere between a smile and a snarl.

"I'm feeling generous," I say. "So I'll give you a thirty second head start."

He laughs, low and gravely. "A head start?"

"You wanted a hunt, you got it, jungle and all," I say from my perch. "But like I said, this was a trap for you. And you're about to find out what it feels like to be hunted. What it feels like to be prey."

"You think I fear you, boy?" Kraven grins, straightening. "You think I will run?"

I drop to the jungle floor maybe fifteen feet away from him, and as I narrow my eyes, I say, "Life is for the strong, to be lived by the strong, and if need be, taken by the strong. I am strong. Why should I not use my gift? If I wish to hunt, why should I not?"

And around us, behind me, pairs of red lights emerge from the dark jungle, shifting, rising. Red eyes.

Kraven's smile falters, his brows furrowing. "What is this?"

Dravec hunters, nearly a dozen of them, stalk from the shadows, their faces masked, eyes burning, and then, with a soft shink of sound, black blades slide from their wrists.

The sight of them, the feel of them behind me has my hands curling into tight fists to ward off the panic. They're androids, I remind myself. Androids that Ned designed to look like Dravec. Androids under our command.

And I'm not the one they're hunting.

Kraven takes a step back, the first signs of doubt creeping onto his deranged face. "What is this?!" he demands with another growl.

More figures emerge from between the trees, the red light gleaming on metal wings, on a metal arm. Sam. Bucky. Flanking me. And I feel that old, haunted panic begin to recede.

"This is the jungle, asshole," says Bucky.

Doubt burns away to fury as Kraven shows his teeth. "This is my hunt. My prize. My trophy. He is mine."

"He's ours," says Sam, wings flaring. "You should have known better than to come after one of our own."

"That thirty second head start is almost gone," I advise Kraven, looking at my wrist like there's a watch there. "I'd get going if I were you."

"I AM THE HUNTER," he bellows, spit flying, his eyes wide and outraged. But he's staggering back, his hand twitching toward his pocket.

Bucky takes one step forward, his face cold and utterly merciless, his voice black as he says a single word.

"Run."

Kraven does.

The satisfaction of seeing him tearing through the trees, wrapped up in his rage, his fear, reduced to pure instinct is immense.

"Can I PLEASE throw Darth Vader in there now?" asks Ned's voice in my ear.

I let out a bark of laughter, and I see the muscles in Kraven's back tense at the sound, like it's taking all he has not to turn around and tear my head from my shoulders. "One thing at a time, dude."

Ned lets out a dramatic sigh. "Yeah yeah."

"That's thirty seconds," says Sam with a look to Bucky. "You ready?"

Bucky lifts a weapon from the holster on his back, a badass looking, old fashioned hunting rifle with a scope. With practiced ease, the gun is cocked with a click, the sound unnaturally loud within the darkened alien jungle.

He looks back at Sam like that was his answer.

They take off after Kraven, the Dravec falling into step just behind them, and I can't help but grin beneath my mask.

"Dude. So awesome," says Ned appreciatively.

"Best plan ever," I agree.

"You gonna go kick some ass, too?"

"In a minute. I'm reveling right now."

"Cool cool. May says let her know when it's her turn."

"Not sure if there's going to be anything left of him after Bucky and Sam, but tell her to standby."

I take one deep breath to settle my rattled nerves, to relish in the victory that's just around the corner, the end to this nightmare.

And then I run.


Bucky Barnes

. . .

. . .

The .358 Winchester Norma Magnum rifle feels right in my hands, the leather strap dangling loose, the wood smooth and polished, the metal scope gleaming.

Sam's eyebrows rose when I made my weapon selection specifically for this. It's not my usual gun choice, not one I used during my assassinations and battles as the Winter Soldier.

It's a big game hunting rifle, one meant for bears, not men.

The irony just felt too good to pass up.

I lift it now, even as I run, and aim. The gunshot blasts through the air, the bullet impacting the trunk of a red rimmed tree, inches above Kraven's head.

Intentionally, of course. Let him feel hounded, the fear of being chased by murderous intent. Let him fear.

Kraven shoots a look over his shoulder, his ugly, scarred face twisted with outraged fury, even as he flees. My own lips answer with a promising smirk.

"You're a sick son of a bitch, you know that?" Sam says through a laugh, wings collapsed into the pack across the back of his shoulders.

I cock the rifle again. "Yep."

We slow our pace slightly, letting the Dravec-dressed androids get ahead of us, their wrist blades out and hungry for blood.

The sight of them churns my gut, but Peter orchestrated every detail of this moment, and I wasn't about to deny him.

We watch as one catches up with Kraven, its arm reared back, blade sharp and poised to stab straight into the man's spine. Kraven whirls and slams it into a nearby tree. Again and again, with unnatural strength, with a wild lack of control.

The Dravec crumples, flickering back to its bland, android self.

Then two more are on him, one on Kraven's back, the other driving its wrist blade toward the man's exposed stomach. But Kraven lurches forward with a snarl, the Dravec on his back flying forward into the other, and then the man is seizing both of them by their heads and slamming them together so hard, their faces smash in with an explosion of sparks.

And in the break between lunging Dravec, I see Kraven reach into his pocket, thumb the cap off a syringe and plunge it into his leg. His whole body shudders, muscles tensing, veins bulging, and he breathes hard through his teeth, growls rumbling through his chest.

"Shit," says Sam. "How many doses is he on now?"

"My guess is four."

"And he usually only takes one for a hunt? Doesn't exactly bode well for us."

"The more he takes, the less controlled he is."

Kraven rips a Dravec android's head from its body, a spine of wires and circuits following after it, dripping with oil. He bares his teeth at us as he crushes the metal skull in his fist.

"Bet you're wishing you brought the bigger gun, huh?" asks Sam, shifting to a battle stance, fists raised as Kraven squashes the last of the androids with wild, turbulent moves.

I raise the Winchester, not needing the scope to place one shot, then two, then three into the center of his chest.

The shots ring out, Kraven jerking with the impact.

And though a trickle of blood exits the wounds, the hunter does not stagger, and he does not fall. His muscles ripple, and he bellows out a roar.

"Yeah," I tell Sam, lowering the rifle. "Yeah, a bigger gun would be good."

"Did someone say my name?" Ironman lowers himself to the ground beside us.

"You're supposed to be with May and Ned. Pepper forbade you from further combat in case you messed up your face before the wedding."

"Yeah well, since when do I listen?" asks Tony, the glowing eyes of his helmet pinned on Kraven as his voice darkens. "I'm not missing this fight."

Then he raises both palms, and with a sharp whine, his repulsors blast out with blinding white light. Kraven is sent flying from the impact, his body disappearing within the dense foliage of the dark jungle.

I roll my eyes as I drop the rifle and we charge forward, but when we get to the broken ferns where Kraven should have landed, there's no one there.

A rush of movement in my peripherals, and then Tony's grunting. I whirl, and Kraven's massive arms have Ironman pinned to his chest, facing out. I can see his muscles contracting, then impossibly, I hear the groan of metal as Kraven begins to crush him.

Sam's there already, jumping into the air, spinning, and his wings flare out at the last minute, the broad side of his wing catching the hunter in his face, sending him staggering back, releasing Tony.

Sam punches Kraven across his face once, twice, brings his wings in around him, then splays them out so fast, the impact makes the hunter stumble again.

Kraven snarls, lunging to retaliate, but Sam drops, wings spread wide and flat, and I'm kicking off them to slam my vibranium fist into the hunter's nose. It breaks with a satisfying crunch, blood spraying, and I land in a roll just as Ironman sends two more repulsor blasts into Kraven's chest.

He goes down to one knee, his breathing strained, body trembling.

I storm forward, hooking my metal arm around his neck and hauling him up as I squeeze hard. "You're done," I hiss, as his hands come up to pry my arm away.

His laugh is deep and rumbling. "Posmotri vniz, zimniy soldat."

My eyes widen and look down. Too late.

The android at our feet explodes, the force of it sending me flying back into one of the trees, pain shooting through my ribs.

Dazed, I shake my head to clear it, looking up to see Sam sprawled on the ground, and Stark . . . Stark is on his knees, Kraven's hands around his throat, his wrist. "Did you think this would be easy? That I'd succumb to such a weakness as fear? I fear no one. Nothing. And I will not be denied."

There's a streak of dark red and navy blue that slams straight into the pair of them, then darts away.

Kraven's on his hands and knees. Peter raises both wrists, firing twin strands of web that attach themselves to Kraven's back, and then they're suddenly pulsing with electricity. The hunter yells through clenched teeth, his limbs shuddering, his neck arched back. Then he's reaching for the webs behind him and yanking them free.

Peter releases them from his wrists just before Kraven whirls and wrenches them toward him.

The hunter charges wildly, hungrily at the kid. A mad bull released from its pen, all muscle and furious intent.

"Go to hell!" snaps Peter, as he sidesteps Kraven and slams his fists into the man's spine.

He stumbles, but whirls too fast catching Peter in a savage backhand.

Spiderman goes down.

I'm on my feet, running toward them, but Sam is there first, having launched into a glide, wings spread. They flare wide as he lifts into the air high enough to slam both feet into Kraven's sternum. The hunter staggers as Sam lands, wings sliding effortlessly back into his pack.

They're exchanging blows, and the contrast between Sam's controlled movements and Kraven's reckless brawling is stark. One move is all it would take from Kraven to take Sam out. So I dart in, weaving between them, compensating for Sam's blind spots, the pair of us moving in tandem as we duck, swing, punch.

For a moment, we're winning. We fight in sync, relentless and focused, and it seems too much for the crazed hunter.

But I see the desperation, the primitive fury building in his jet black eyes. Foam gathers at the corners of his mouth, and the growls rumbling from behind those bared teeth are like a rabid animal's.

We have to take him down, and we have to do it now.

And we're about to, I see the opening, and I know the exact move I will perform.

Then Sam stumbles.

Stumbles, because there's a knife sticking out of his thigh. The sight of it startles me so much more than it should, jarring my focus enough that when Kraven slams his elbow into my temple, I'm too slow to block it.

I go down.


Peter Parker

. . .

. . .

He stabbed Sam.

Sam's stabbed.

With a knife.

In any other fight, any other scenario, I'd be horrified but able to put it away enough to charge into action.

But this . . . this stuns me, the way it stunned Bucky just before he went down. Because Kraven doesn't use knives. Not in his hunts. Part of his code of honor, and for that extra thrill, he refuses to use weapons of any kind when taking down his prey.

Sam still tries to slam his fist into Kraven's side, his teeth clenched from the pain, but one shove from Kraven and he's on the ground, his head thrown back in agony.

Kraven looks at me. He's every bit as unhinged as I wanted him to be, because I thought it would make it easier for us. That our combined, collective efforts and cool heads would neutralize him in minutes.

But Sam is down. Bucky is down.

And Mr. Stark–

Repulsor blast after repulsor blast knocks Kraven away from our fallen comrades, step by step, and when he's back far enough, those are rockets that explode across his chest. The hunter disappears in a cloud of fire and smoke.

I'm kneeling by Sam as Ironman goes flying past us.

"Don't take it out," I order Sam as I spy his fist clenched around the handle of the hunting knife sticking out of his thigh.

"I know that," he says through his teeth. "Keeping it steady."

"What can I do?" I ask helplessly. "What should I do?"

"Help Stark."

"But–"

"Kraven wants you. Tony needs you," says Sam firmly, breathing hard. "It's you, Peter. You got this. Go."

Steeling myself, I give him a sharp nod, then push to my feet and run.

Through the smoke. Through the Dravec jungle trees, many of them half demolished, their virtual veil lifted to reveal the mess of pipes and sheets of metal and sparking wires.

There are white blue lights flashing through the haze like a lighthouse in dense ocean fog. The air is filled with the high pitched scream of missiles and repulsors, the screech and crash of metal, the growls of a wild animal.

And Mr. Stark's voice, a strained, strangled yell.

I burst through the smoke.

His face shield is down, the metal framing it cracked and smoking. Kraven stands over him, a long metal pipe gripped in his hands like a spear, the edge of it broken off into a sharp point.

Mr. Stark grips the point in his metal gauntlets, his arms shaking with effort as Kraven bears down, ready to run him through.

"HEY!" I bellow.

Kraven's head snaps up instantly, his nostrils flaring, like he's one of those pavlovian dogs, and I'm the bell. I rip my mask from my face and let it drop.

And just like I knew it would, seeing my face, his trophy makes Kraven snap.

Mr. Stark is forgotten, the spear is dropped, and the hunter lunges.

I push up, grab a branch and pull myself up, lightning quick, kicking off that one to seize the branch above, and the next, even as the illusion of branches gives way to metal ladders and poles the higher up I go.

Higher and higher I climb, Kraven rampaging just behind, until we clear the darkened canopy. The virtual reality is completely broken up here. There's just high beams and scaffolding and metal catwalks crisscrossing the darkened jungle below.

I leap and flip and fly, always moving, drawing Kraven away from the wounded others.

Come on, I think. You've got to wear him down. He's gotta be on the verge of crashing, his body can't handle that much serum.

With every flip I'm firing web after web, my arms crossing over and over, attaching them to walls, to wires, to everything, and to Kraven. He charges through them, but they get denser and denser as I weave back through in a maddening pattern that has Kraven doubling back on himself.

I dive through a gap in the latticework of web straight at him, and he makes a grab for me. But in a move that would make Natasha proud, I push off his broad chest and swing around to his back, straddling his left shoulder as I drive my elbow down into the back of his neck again and again.

His knee buckles, our combined weight throwing him off balance and nearly pitching both of us over the side of a catwalk. Kraven tries to steady himself, but I, still hooked over his shoulder, let my upper body fall backward, and he loses his footing.

We flip midair, and I push off him, firing webs in both directions, attaching them to broken poles and beams and snapping them from their bases to bring them toward me.

Kraven's falling slowly, getting tangled in the cluster of webbing I've laid out all around us, webbing I navigate with accelerated ease as I weave metal shafts and rods into the pattern.

My blood is racing, my breath tight and hot in my lungs, but I'm flying, entwining it all together in the most complex geometric structure I've ever created, and it's like I can see the diagrams and equations bringing it altogether, the exact shapes and placements needed, and I don't stop, I can't stop–

Until suddenly I can.

Because across the entire expanse of catwalks and scaffolds and beams, a monumental spiderweb glitters, compacting into a dense, opaque mass, interwoven with planks and beams and poles of steel shrouded in white. And at its center, foaming and spitting, but utterly stuck, is Kraven.

I pause, breathing hard, registering the beeping at my wrist indicating my web fluid is practically one strand from being completely empty.

Sweat slides down my temple, and I brush it away as I catch my breath.

"I feel sorry for you," I say, content to crouch where I am, maybe twenty feet back from the trapped hunter on a wide metal beam.

Kraven writhes, his fists clenching and unclenching, and when he throws his head back, I can see the visible strain of the sounds ripping from his throat.

"You're just a mad dog in a cage. Anyone else would put you down, but lucky for you, I've always had a soft spot for animals."

Within minutes, Kraven's eyes are rolling back in his head, his body wound tight and spasming, finally crashing and succumbing to the mass amount of serum pumping through his veins.

And the webbing, it cradles him, keeps him from harming himself further as he's caught in the grips of a violent seizure.

It's over as fast as it starts, his head falling forward, his body going completely limp. For a second, I think he might be dead, that the overdose killed him, but then I spy the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

It's over. It's done.

And in the end, it wasn't me or the others that brought Kraven down. It was himself. Taken out by the very serum he used to make himself into some kind of apex predator.

Blowing out a breath, I let myself drop back down the ground as the illusion of the Dravec jungle flickers out completely, reverting back to the half demolished gymnasium. I'm just getting my bearings when, from somewhere behind me comes familiar, deep, rhythmic breathing, distorted as if it comes from a machine. Then, red light casts a sudden glow all around as the unmistakable sound of a lightsaber igniting fills the air.

I turn, brows lifting and, yes, I'll admit, chills erupting across my entire body, at the sight of Darth Vader standing before me in all his dark glory.

Then the illusion flickers in and out, a half broken, sparking android falling to its knees before the virtual reality cloaking it gives out entirely.

"Damn it," says Ned's voice over the speakers, echoing across the entire room instead of just my ears. "That was the last android."

"Are you okay, kid?"

Mr. Stark, sans Ironman suit, is there, looking a little battered as he clasps my shoulders and looks me over.

"I'm good," I tell him honestly.

"I'm sorry," he says, gripping my shoulders and looking at me with so much intensity, so much regret, that I want to look away. But I don't. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well," I say, uncomfortable, and feeling much more forgiving after neutralizing the threat and also– "I'm sorry for kicking you out the window of your tower. And using you as bait."

A beat, then– "No, you're not."

"No, I'm not," I say, then grin, and the relief that floods me when Mr. Stark grins back is profound. My body jerks then, eyes widening as I remember. "Sam!"

"He's ok," Mr. Stark assures me quickly. "This is the Avengers compound, remember? As soon as you and I went after Kraven, an evac team got him out of there and to medical."

"The knife missed anything important. He's gonna be just fine." Bucky climbs up to us across the wreckage. His eyes are warm, and there's a small smile on his face like . . . like he's proud. "Good job, kid."

I flush, feeling pleased and awkward, but then my eyes are widening. "Shit, what time is it? Mr. Stark, your wedding–"

"Hmm? Oh yes, well, apparently my fiance was on board with letting me get kidnapped the morning of our impending nuptials, so, I'm sort of inclined to make her wait."

"Really?"

"No, not really. Let's move, people!" Mr. Stark looks over his shoulder at the teams filing into the ruined gymnasium. He looks up. "Damn, he's all strung up and gift wrapped for us like the world's ugliest piñata. How about we ship him to the Raft?"

"Not the raft," interjects Bucky, his dark eyes darting to Kraven. "T'Challa's been looking for him. I'll escort Kraven to Wakanda."

"You'll miss the wedding," says Stark.

"It's that or leave the transportation of a highly deranged and dangerous madman in the hands of non-enhanced personnel."

"Point taken. Just send your gift to the reception, then."

Mr. Stark turns away, speaking to the agents and crew members converging around us. Bucky gives me a look, and I say, "You didn't get him a present, did you?"

"Like he needs anything," says Bucky, then eyes me seriously. "Kraven's never going to be a threat to you again. I'll make sure of it."

"Wouldn't be the first time you took a monster intent to kill me all the way to Wakanda," I say wryly, then add. "Be careful."

"Always am."

"We'll have a ZombieSharks marathon waiting for you when you get back."

" . . . Do we have to?"

"You're the one who said ZombieSharks 3 didn't make any sense."

Bucky looks at me skeptically. "Because of the premise, not because I needed the back story. You and Ned are demoted from movie picking. The next marathon will be my choice."

I grin. "Deal."


A/N:

*Takes an awkward bow* XD

Well, there it is, folks! The finale, but not the final chapter of Hunted! The bad guy is defeated, the good guys victorious, and now we just have one more chapter to wrap up the loose threads and finish this baby up!

Thank you to the amazing PippinStrange of course for being my writing/editing partner for all these years and inspiring me to always be a better writer! And thank you to each and every one of you still reading and reviewing! You have no idea just how much I adore you all.

This chapter was like the longest in the whole series? Almost ten thousand words on its own, holy moly! I hope it was as satisfying for you guys to read as it was for me to write. I honestly could have kept going for ages and had everybody just kicking ass forever. XD But figured I should probably wind it down at some point. Hope you guys liked it!


sailingships1: Aww thank you so much! Happy to help!

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Clara Brighet: HOLY SCHMIDT! That had to be a record for longest, most glorious review EVER! I can't tell you how many times I read it, and how long it took me to scroll through the whole thing and love every word. THANK YOU SO SO SO SO MUCH. Made my day and made coming back to this fic SO SO worth it. I love hearing all your favorite lines and moments so much. It makes every doubt I had about my writing just flutter out the window. I always want to come back to fanfiction, because I really love you guys and I'm really invested in this series, but dang is it difficult to find the time and justification lol. But I'm determined at the very least to finish this story! My heart is seriously so full hearing that you used my fics to slip into during a difficult time. It's so flattering and honoring, and it warms my heart that in some way, I was there for you, just a little :) ALSO CONGRATS ON YOUR MASTERS! WOW WOW WOW THAT IS SO BEYOND IMPRESSIVE! You deserve all the celebrations! You are amazing. All the love

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Heroes21: O.M.G. First of all, congrats on the job, the partner, and the house! It really is INSANE just how much life has changed for all of us since this series started. Like we were all completely different people in such different stages. Makes me unbelievably honored that you've stuck with me and still get excited for very belated updates! Your favorite author? Seriously, I'm crying lol. Thank you so much, I adore you.

DarylDixon'sLover: Thanks!

HalloumiHermit: Eeee! Hello! Thank you so so much for the kindest review and all your sweet words! Seriously means so much to me. It definitely made me smile, and I definitely read it multiple times. I'm also a sucker for the Bucky and Peter relationship. I remember that moment in Civil War where Peter grabs Bucky's fist, who looked totally shocked, and Peter was just fanboying. And I was like, THIS. And tying together what they've been through at the hands of Hydra, their relationship in my series just took a life of its own and it is one of my favorite things to write. Hope you and yours are well, and hope you enjoyed!

AvatarUzumaki: Ahhh thank you so much! Hopefully your questions were answered! :)

LoonyLovegood1981: I'm so excited to hear from you as well! Hope you're doing well! Thank you so so much for your kind words! And yes, MJ is going to take a much bigger role in the next one, which I'm super excited to get into, as I get to write my own take on their relationship in some very intense circumstances. ;)

rmitchell048: Awww you've been rereading for years? BLESS YOU. That warms my heart so so much. Thank you so much! I'm glad you liked the last chapter and hope you liked this one too!

RedHood001: Thank you so much! :D It's fun trying to take the atmosphere and feel of the MCU and twist new characters and scenarios to somehow fit that. It's challenging but a blast! And exploring more of Bucky and Peter's relationship with them having each been through so much and connecting through it, it's seriously one of the best things to write. I could probably write hours worth of fluff and angst with those too. THank you so much for all of your kind words and reviews! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Guest: YAY!

KMER79: Lol! Sorry for the stress! XD Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will be much less stressful ;)

xSapphirexRosesxFanx: :D


COMING SOONISH:

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The hunter became the hunted, and it was his undoing.

And now? Now it's time for the wedding of the century.

Winddown, fluff, returns, reveals, and a taunting teaser for the next installment of the Paint it Black series.

You won't want to miss this. ;)