Follow My Lead
The day passed. That next morning, Peter woke up later than usual. A small streak of sunlight seeping through the crack of his window met directly at his eyes, accompanying him to a rude awakening. The quiet dimness of his room appealed to him more than bright and sunny. His hand rose to block the disturbing view, and raised his head from his pillow now penetrated with hours of heat and sweat. He looked at his alarm clock and saw that it was 11 a.m. Aunt May was more than likely still asleep. That's normal. He's used to waking up to a silent house.
Peter forced himself to get out of his bed and make his way over to the bathroom. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and then went downstairs. For some reason the place felt different to him. Perhaps the absence of his aunt this morning would be the reasonable explanation why, but something was off in his senses. It seemed as though they were going off in a response to a foreign environment. But this was home. This was home as he knew it. The same home he's lived in for years. Peter wondered what the big deal was. Then he started thinking about what Natasha told him yesterday, about HYRDA and all. Maybe he was still kind of spooked by the whole deal. Peter wasn't afraid to admit if something scared him, even to himself. The sooner he acknowledged that, the better he could work it out later.
With that, he felt it made some sense for his receptors to go crazy. The thought of being stalked wasn't going to slip by that easily. Despite not knowing to trust Natasha or not, he felt he couldn't take his chances with her being right, and him being wrong. In a way, he thought that he still didn't necessarily have to agree with her or not. Then Project Insight came into mind again. He was baffled by the fact that the name stuck in his brain. Since he first heard it from Natasha, he just went with referring to it as the kill list. He thought about all of the people living in the world now, about around nine billion or so, he presumed, and then thought about how he's only one person out of that nine billion. And then, still that one person, being targeted out of the rest. He knew countless others were to die as well. Natasha didn't even tell him that, but he knew well enough that there are enough people in the world for there to have been billions of them meant to die. However, the thought of knowing that he was part of that large percentage; the myriad of bodies piled up; it kept disturbing him. It was over. He knew that. But he still felt weird about it.
Peter went about fixing a bowl of cereal as usual for breakfast. He sat alone at the table, trying to take in the peace and quiet. But he was having a hard time doing that when his senses kept acting up. To them, there was no peace and quiet. They felt as though they were sensing some sort of signal; a frequency of some sort. Peter dismissed this, and kept eating.
He wondered if Natasha would come by again. She's been slipping by every day since two days ago. It would be no surprise if she made an appearance today as well. She also never did explain where she got the name Cathryn from. With her being a spy and all, taking on a new alias didn't seem quite unusual, and it was necessary, given her current circumstances. He still just wondered how difficult it was for her to find a new identity. He wondered how she even gone about doing so. It sounded rather difficult in itself. Identity theft is a recurring issue in the United States, but to go on for so long without being caught sounded rather risky. The Black Widow saw this as nothing more than an obstacle she felt she had no choice but to overcome. What used to be kill or be killed was now disappear or be killed. No one should have the slightest clue on her whereabouts, but she trusted Peter enough to tell him. This struck him oddly. If she was so willing to trust him, then the obvious would be to return the same amount of trust to her, but he wasn't falling for any tricks. He honestly doesn't believe for a second that she turned back up for a mere visit, especially after yesterday. That was enough to tell him that she had a reason for being here. And whatever that reason was, it grew to be more and more unnerving-
His train of thought was cut off by his senses again. Why did they keep going off like that? Maybe there was a small fly that he didn't notice before that flew past just as his senses told him. Expecting it to buzz by again, he kept his head up, looking around, but nothing came. A pointless waste of his time. He resumed eating his cereal.
Aunt May couldn't get tied up in the middle of this. That was certain. Before, he could've easily made the mistake of doing just that before, until he was warned. Then he remembered who it was that warned him. The Black Widow herself. Now he started to feel somewhat bad that he wasn't giving her enough credit. There was nothing bad on her record, as far as Peter was concerned, excluding her history with the KGB, though that was against her will and she had no say in that whatsoever. He believed, and felt like he knew that she was telling him the truth when she spoke of SHIELD altering his entire life, and not for the better. That was before, though. He couldn't let that one heavy moment of the so-called truth hold him ba-
There was the receptors again, acting crazy. He really wished they'd stop.
Then Gwen came to mind. He was glad she never knew a thing about SHIELD or Romanoff. It was better that way. Coincidentally, when she died, it seemed SHIELD did as well. SHIELD surely knew very much about her, but she would never know there ever existed such an organization. Project Insight. His brain turned its attention to Project Insight all of a sudden. It targeted those who would potentially be a threat. Peter understood very well why he was on that list, but then . . . he wondered. Was Gwen-
This time he was glad his receptors went off. He had no reason to even think about something so sick and twisted. She's finally able to rest in peace. He should leave it at that once and for all. After not keeping his word, and ultimately getting her killed, letting her rest in peace was the most he felt that he could do to make it up to her.
Peter's bowl was now empty, and he got up to place it in the empty sink. He knew this wouldn't take long, so he turned the nozzle and quickly washed out the small bowl and spoon. In the middle of this short process, he heard his phone go off upstairs in his room. At the same time, his senses went off yet again. Too many things were happening at once. Peter just finished with the spoon and very quickly dried his hands, and raced up the steps. He made it in enough time to see who on the screen. It simply showed up as 'Unknown.' Peter was reluctant to answer. But after only having a few more seconds to answer, and having wasted effort to get there, he figured why not.
"Hello?" he said.
"It's me," Natasha's voice came through the phone. It was only a matter of time until he heard from her again. He didn't even bother to think how she knew his number.
"Hey," he simply said, not forcing much of a greeting.
"Leave your place as soon as you can."
"Why," Peter asked, his heartbeat suddenly escalating.
"Since yesterday I noticed this guy who's been following me. I noticed him at Starbucks and then he showed up around my block later that night. I just saw him again some seconds ago. You need to get out of there now. He's obviously seen you as well."
He couldn't process this all in his mind so soon and she was speaking very fast.
"W-Wait, some guy? What are-
"Now's not the time to talk. I'm headed your way now. Be out on the street when you get dressed and lay low."
Before Peter could say anything else, she hung up. With no time to think, he did what he would've done anyway. He changed into a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a gray hoodie. But under all of that, he sneaked his Spider-Man suit on, in case of anything. He did all of this in about a minute. There was nothing else he needed to think about in this case. Time was of the essence. And it kind of helped that his senses were pushing him to move faster. He still didn't understand why. One last thing he took was his phone and web shooters. That's all he needed.
He left the room and headed downstairs for the door. Aunt May got used to him leaving in the middle of the day without letting her know. To her, that was just a part of growing up. Peter could leave whenever he felt like it. She couldn't baby him forever. Peter pulled the hood over his head, and carefully exited the home, locking the door behind him. He stared at the door for a moment after he locked it, not knowing what's to come later. But he felt obligated to leave in order to keep his aunt out of any sort of danger.
Looking to the left and right before continuing down the sidewalk, Peter began to feel his own form of paranoia spring throughout. It made his movements slower, and his thought process a lot harder. Part of him knew he could take them, but in reality he didn't know the first thing about these people – what they were capable of.
Feeling somewhat protected and hidden under the simple hoodie, but only so much, Peter kept his head low, not able to see anyone's face that he passed, only their legs, being enough to not bump into them. He wasn't sure he knew what he was doing. To him, he looked completely obvious. The sun hadn't fully risen yet, His hoodie made him feel secure only to some extent.
That's when he noticed a woman crossing the street ahead. The only thing that really stood out to Peter or that he even cared about was that she wore a hood over her head and that she had red hair. It was enough to tell him that it was Natasha. As the woman grew closer and closer to him, it became clear. She kept looking straight ahead after each step she took, not even looking directly at Peter. The two of them were about to meet at a turn on the sidewalk. Peter didn't know where this was going to go, but all he knew was that he was following her lead. With that, being about an arm span away from each other, Natasha sharply turned onto the other sidewalk, and Peter quickly followed after. They were now side by side, both hooded and incognito.
"How long ago did you leave?" she asked.
"Like five minutes," he stammered. "What's going on?"
Peter began to feel his senses through his body randomly go off again.
"Did you notice anything unusual before or as you were leaving your house?" Natasha asked.
Peter paused momentarily. "My senses have been acting crazy since this morning."
Natasha said nothing.
"The only time they're supposed to do that is when I'm in some sort of danger," he went on.
"That makes sense," Natasha almost muttered.
"Romanoff, what is going on?" Peter demanded, very serious this time.
The spy's expression changed to almost infuriated when he said her name that loud in public. Peter saw it, too, but he paid no mind to it, completely forgetting how dangerous she was herself.
"I think the man who's been following me is a HYDRA agent," she finally said. Peter momentarily lost his ability to breath. "I didn't realize how soon they would go about their operations, but now I know they are. You need to stay hidden."
She began looking around the street as they continued walking, watching out for anything.
"Do you see him yet?" Peter asked.
"No. For all I know he could be on our tail," she replied.
Before he could turn his head around to look, Natasha clutched his arm hard enough to get his attention.
"Don't," she snapped. "Let them only see the back of our heads. They can't tell anything from there."
Peter then thought about her hair, but then he looked and saw that it was also cleverly hidden well from the hoodie. She had then looped around her ears to keep them locked in place so they didn't hang down too low.
"What about the front?" Peter asked.
"Well, then we're screwed," she simply replied. That's the last thing Peter wanted to hear. "There could be more of them. I bet there is."
As they kept walking, Peter kept feeling more and more uncomfortable. Not just from the situation at hand, but from his senses as well. This time it made sense for them to go nuts. But what disturbed them more was that they kept doing so at home. That told him that whatever oncoming danger the two of them were about to face against now more than likely was near Peter since this morning. Somebody was watching him. But they were watching close.
Then the feeling grew deeper. And deeper. Even deeper. Then they took over the rest of him.
With an impulse, Peter grabbed Natasha and forced him and her to duck, barely missing the bullets that just passed over their heads and into the window of a shop right next to them. Some gasps and screams were heard all around them. Natasha was thankful that Peter was there at the right place and the right time.
The pair dove beside a nearby car for cover that was parked conveniently where they needed it to be. Bullets kept ripping through the air down towards them, shattering the windows of the car, and leaving holes all over. Natasha had no clue where the shooters were coming from. From the fire rate and sound of the shots, it had to be from a machine gun. She went with her guess that the shooter, or shooters, had to be on foot as well. From where they were, there was no way someone could be up top due to the height of the buildings. Their aim would have to be deadly accurate to land a single bullet on either one of them.
Natasha finally stopped thinking and started acting. She peeped her head up through the shattered window frame, spotting two armed men dressed in almost normal civilian clothes. It made sense for them to need to blend in as well.
The spy dropped again.
"There's two of them shooting at us," Natasha quickly informed.
Peter didn't respond. He really didn't think he had to say anything. All he knew was that despite him being the Amazing Spider-Man, able to dodge bullets like nothing, he was scared out of his mind. These people wanted him dead for a reason. He knew that. And that terrified him.
Natasha knew she couldn't do much, but she quickly came back up and fired back with her pistol. Not a single bullet landed on either one of them, but the shooters moved out of the way in a heartbeat. They both rolled out of the path of Natasha's bullets. Once they returned fire, she was forced to take cover again. Civilians ran as far as they could from the scene, many in panic and screaming their heads off. That was typical.
Then a hooded man in black was spotted in the middle of the wild crowd with his head down. He was the odd one out. Peter saw that he kept walking their way, slowly, with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Just the look of him didn't feel right. It's as if he had no face. The pace in which he walked was slow and calm, as if chaos wasn't about. Peter knew he had to do something before he did.
As fast as he could, Peter aimed at the hooded man and shot his web, confusing Natasha at first as to what he was shooting at. Noticing this, the man attempted to finally pull out a handgun, but Peter's web reached his gun already. With that, Peter forced the gun out of his hand from a distance. Natasha then shot him down. Almost being fazed by this, Peter then remembered this wasn't the first time he'd seen the Black Widow shoot and kill someone in cold blood.
That's when the two heard a clanking noise sound next to them. They both jerked their heads to it to find a small metallic sphere. Natasha's heartbeat skyrocketed, her eyes widened. He may not have been an expert in warfare, but Peter was smart enough to know what it was. Out of instinct, he grabbed Natasha and jumped out of the blast radius of the grenade ridiculously fast. The two hit the ground still as the grenade went off, and the car hopped in the air with the explosion. With no time to think, the two immediately got themselves up, knowing they were still being shot at.
They rushed through the crowd of screaming people, running away just as much as they were. Both of their hoods came off now, but that didn't matter anymore. They've already seen them. And neither Peter nor Natasha knew how many more of them there were out to kill them.
Natasha spotted an alley coming up across the street as they kept their legs moving, not stopping for anything.
"There!" she pointed. Peter took note of the alley and starting turning his attention to that.
In the middle of crossing the street over to it, more gunshots followed, rushing just behind them and some in front. For Peter it was no worry, but Natasha couldn't afford to get hit. Either way, she knew she couldn't stop running.
Once they barely made it into the alley, the two were met with a gate marking a dead end.
"Hang on," Peter said, taking Natasha by the side.
The two swung over the gate with the aid of Peter's web shooters, and proceeded to escape to safety.
They didn't know how long they were running, but it began to concern Natasha that they didn't stop either.
"We look too obvious!" she noted.
"You wanna stop?!" Peter protested.
Natasha put her gun back into her jacket.
"We need a place to blend in," she said.
"Where?" he asked.
Honestly, she didn't know. Not yet anyways. All she knew was that they were in deep shit this time. And the last thing Peter wanted was to get stuck with her, especially in a situation like this. But he knew one thing: he wasn't about to die.