We Might Be Radioactive
Chapter 7
"Don't get any ideas," Peter said to himself. "Right."
The sun had just set, and inside the Oscorp building only a handle of windows glowed with light as the last of the scientists and reconstruction workers retired for the night. Peter crouched on an opposite rooftop and watched as they flickered off, one by one, until only emergency lights in the stairwells remained. He had dressed in black sweats and a ski mask over his usual costume, rendering him almost invisible against the darkened skyline. It made him sick to his stomach, but the last thing he wanted was to be recognized for what he was about to do.
The Oscorp building was still undergoing construction. After Dr. Connor's attack on the city there had been a number of lawsuits and investigations conducted that had slowed the progress, and the upper levels where Dr. Connor's lab had been wouldn't be in use except for the workers. There wouldn't be anyone afterhours, and hopefully, minimal security. It was the best chance Peter had or would have, as far as he knew.
He couldn't wait. His meeting with Bruce that morning had gone better than expected, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Bruce had just been trying to appease him with promises; any day he could go to the tower and find Bruce gone, his chance of having his questions answered with him. If a blood sample wasn't going to be enough Peter needed to have something else to turn to while there was time.
"Oscorp has hundreds of those things; they won't miss one," Peter mumbled, working himself up to it. "I'll get in, get one, get out. Easy peasy. They owe me, anyway." He shifted forward on the ledge. "It'll be fine. Totally fine."
Peter waited a few minutes more, watching the lights flick on and off in various rooms as security made their rounds. Finally he found his nerve. "Come on, Parker. No more stalling. Let's get this over with."
A few web swings later and Peter was on the roof. The construction wasn't very far along, to his eye, and he could still easily identify every crack for how it had been made. The stains had washed away, at least. Peter did his best not to look as he crept along the construction equipment and dove beneath one of the exterior cameras. From there he glanced out over the roof, taking note of the crane on one end, and what looked like a fresh Oscorp sign mostly covered in thick tarps just waited to be hoisted.
The heating system was always a viable point of entry. Peter didn't like the idea of navigating down several floors via the air ducts, but at least it meant not having to dodge cameras. The weather was mild enough that there wouldn't be a need for much air flow, either. "More like a rat than a spider," Peter grumbled as he climbed up the side of the wall and nudged the security camera just far enough off its path that the ventilation shaft wouldn't be caught. "But it'll have to do."
The vent was cramped, but Peter made the most of it. Slowly and patiently he worked his way down the floors, slipping out of hiding in supply rooms and bathrooms when he needed to for a breath of air and to get his bearings. He hadn't anticipated how hot and how chaffing it would be in two layers of costume and he could feel sweat trickling down his spine.
Several times he wondered what Bruce would say when he showed up with his illegally earned prize, only to argue himself into continuing. Bruce may have claimed to understand, but he wasn't the super-powered mutant in need of answers.
When Peter reached the sixty-second floor his real work began. Using a pry bar from his backpack, he opened up the ceiling panels closest to the hallway exit and poked his head down, taking stock of the nearby cameras. After a brief duck into the ceiling to locate and gently reposition the one facing the door, he dropped down and slipped into the exterior hall.
The city was glimmering. Peter let the familiarity of New York's skyline settle his thoughts for a moment before continuing on. He crawled along the ceiling, his backpack against his chest, avoiding and adjusting cameras as necessary. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he traced the route he had taken before, all the way to the biocable development lab.
Peter was fairly certain that after having one of their lead scientists go rogue Oscorp would have changed the security code for the lab, and decided it was safer not to attempt the one he remembered. Instead he resorted to the trusty pry bar, opening up the ceiling just beyond the door. It took more time and involved more noise than he would have liked, and a few times he stopped to listen up and down the hall for an approaching guard. Hearing nothing, he continued, until he was back in the ceiling. After getting through another set of panels he dropped down into the lab.
Everything was just as he had last seen it. Machines lined the walls, weaving and twisting the spiders' silk into threads, preparing the cartridges. Peter ran his fingertips over a line of finished products and told himself very sternly that he wasn't going to take any. He crept across the room on the balls of his feet, touching nothing else until he reached the far door. "Here we go," he murmured, and with a deep breath he stepped inside.
It wasn't the same as entering the first time. Experience tempered the awe he had first felt and left him breathless and even wary. He watched the spiders scurry up and down their webs and again thought of Bruce's disapproval. It was too late to back down. Peter pulled a plastic container out of his backpack and moved closer. "I'm going to remember to give you bugs this time," he promised as he used the lid to usher one of the spiders inside.
As soon as he closed the lid, the spiders began to buzz. Peter held very still, determined not to repeat his previous mistake, but it was then that he heard what had set them off: footsteps hurrying across the lab. The door handle twisted and Peter had nowhere to go but up.
A flashlight beam streaked across the chamber, sending the spiders racing away. Peter ducked as high as he could into the ceiling corner as a security guard entered and looked around. "I don't see anything," the man called over his shoulder.
"I know someone's here," replied a second voice. "Something set off the pressure sensor in the ceiling duct."
"Ceiling," the first guard repeated thoughtfully, and Peter could only watch with mounting panic as the flashlight beam crawled higher up the wall.
Peter acted before it reached him. Without giving himself time to second guess, he pounced, sealing his palms to the wall just above the doorway so that he could swing his knees into the guard's chest and send him sailing backwards. He had hoped that the second guard was close by and would be toppled with his friend, but no such luck: not only was he fast enough to dodge out of the way, a third guard was already entering from the hall. Peter remembered just in time not to use his webbing, instead simply throwing himself at the second guard before he could draw his gun. The impact was enough to drop the man, and as soon as he was on his back Peter moved on, kicking the last guard to the side. He dashed into the hall.
"Security breach!" one of the man hollered into a radio. "Sixty-two, west corridor!"
"Get off sixty-two," Peter said under his breath as he ran past the lab door he had used on the way in. "Get off sixty-two, get-"
The stairwell door opened, and another security guard emerged. Peter tackled him without hesitation and bolted up the stairs. He had no idea how many guards were in the building, but he had glimpsed firearms on each of them, and they were well organized enough that he could expect to be cut off if he continued up the stairwell. After only two floors he abandoned it, instead turning his attention to the service elevator. Once he managed to wedge his fingers between the doors he had no trouble shoving them apart.
"This is an 'I told you so' moment, right here," Peter grumbled as he began climbing the elevator cable. He could hear sirens blare to life in the surrounding hallways and labs. "If I get arrested, I'll never hear the end of it."
Peter climbed hand-over hand for the next ten stories. The web would have been faster, but having already been discovered in the biocable lab he didn't want to leave any more evidence of his identity hanging around. It might have already been a wasted effort. He struggled to remain focused despite his pounding heart and the increasing commotion from the floors he was passing.
The service elevator seemed to lead all the way to the roof. Peter could have kicked himself for not thinking of it earlier, only to remember that he had on the way over, and dismissed it assuming the guards would be using the elevators. He paused, glancing below him where the elevator had remained during his entire climb. Security ought to have figured out where he was by then, but still there had been no attempt to truly halt him. It made him nervous.
He reached the top, and made sure his backpack was secure before leaping to the door. With his feet stuck in place he slipped his fingertips into the cracks and pulled, prying the doors apart. He only got six inches when the barrel of a gun fit through the opening and pointed directly at his chest.
"Don't move," said a voice on the other side.
Peter froze. The exterior lights were on, making blurred silhouettes of the half-dozen guards watching him with guns drawn. "Definitely an 'I told you so' moment," he said to himself.
"Come out of there with your hands up," the lead guard ordered.
"Okay, okay. Don't shoot - I'm not armed." Peter shifted his feet closer to the door edges as he tensed, hastily constructing a plan. "But could someone give me a hand with these doors? They're a lot harder to open than they look."
The guard motioned two of his peers closer. They holstered their guns so they could take hold of the doors, and Peter faked a lot of strain as the opening slowly widened. As soon as there was enough space for him to pass through he propelled himself through and kicked with both feet, toppling the two men. Shouts rang out but by then Peter was already dropping to the ground. A quick sweep kick felled the remaining guards. Before any could regain their footing Peter bolted.
The edge wasn't far. Even when the guards started shooting it was close enough, and there was enough equipment for Peter to zig zag through, that he was confident he could make it. In his disguise he was nothing more than a streaking shadow and not even Oscorp's trained security could get a bead on him. It didn't stop them from trying.
In hindsight, Peter would think of it as bad karma. He was only a few steps away from freedom when a guard's wild shot ricocheted off the construction equipment and smashed into a poorly shielded propane tank. The explosion was close enough that it took Peter off his feet, slamming him face first into a stack of steel beams. His brain rattled in his skull and he groaned as the taste of blood filled his mouth. He was too close to quit, he told himself, staring blearily across the open roof. He could see only the smeared shapes of the guards and wasn't sure if they were any steadier than him. It was the shrill screeching of metal on metal that drew him quickly back to focus.
The explosion had rocked the new Oscorp sign off its wooden braces. Glass shattered and the frame squealed as it crashed against the edge of the roof and began to tip, its oblong shape giving it just enough momentum that it was sure to go over. Peter cursed as he pictured how many people could be traveling the sidewalks below. His escape forgotten, he lassoed the sign's edge with a pair of webs and pulled, hoping that if could halt its inertia he could sling it back into stability on the roof.
A bullet raked down Peter's side. It was only a glancing shot but the sting shook him, and he lost his traction. The sign continued to tip and him with it. Peter's heart raced into his ears and in desperation he let go with one hand to fire off another web. It tangled in the construction scaffolding in time, but before Peter could brace himself the lines jerked taut.
The pressure snapped across Peter's body like a crack of a whip. With only one hold on the sign it twisted and pulled, and Peter wasn't able to bite back a yelp as his arm was wrenched. Something gave way with a sickening pop and pain stabbed through his shoulder. Still he gripped the webbing, trying to force all his strength into his good arm. He couldn't let the sign fall. He thought of a crying eight-year-old tucked under his arm and couldn't bear to let it fall.
"Hold it!" shouted one of the guards.
Peter scraped his feet against the roof as sweat steamed the inside of his hood. He glared at the approaching guards with angry disbelief. "What the hell is your problem?"
The guards looked, and slowly it dawned on them what was going on. Thankfully, once they understood, they were quick to act. Half of the men grabbed for the sign, using their weight to try and see-saw it back onto the roof, while the rest ran to grab chains and cables that could be used to aid in the pull. Their efforts were crude, and Peter moaned dizzily as his injured arm was further swayed. He could feel bone grinding out of its socket and he wanted to vomit. One guard had the good idea to chain the edge of the sign to the construction crane, and with the weight finally leveraged, they were able to draw the sign, creaking and shuddering, back into a safe resting spot.
Peter let go and sagged onto his knees. His shoulder and side were on fire, and it was getting hard to breathe with his mask full of blood from his split lip and throbbing nose. Throwing up was still on the table, too. The guards crowded around him, shouting orders, but he couldn't make anything out until one said, "Must be Spider-Man under there after all."
A hand came down on the back of Peter's head. Instinct kicked in and he lashed out with his good arm, punching the man soundly in the gut. He doubled over, and as the rest reached for their weapons Peter dove for the ledge.
The ground fell out from under him. Wind screamed past his ears and he shot his web, not caring where it caught. The jerk of the line which had become so familiar was suddenly agonizing, and Peter clenched his jaws tight to keep from crying out. He hit the opposite building hard. After a full minute of pained wheezing he was finally able to clamor up to the roof he'd started out on.
"Stupid," Peter muttered as he hunched in the shadow of an access door. "So stupid." He tried to move his left arm and grimaced against a hundred needles threading through his shoulder and neck. He pulled off his ski mask but with the Spider-Man hood still on it didn't help him breathe any better. "Shit. Now what?"
Sirens echoed from the street below. Smoke was still rising from the Oscorp roof and it wouldn't be long before a news chopper flew in for a closer look. Despite the pain hammering through him, Peter stripped out of his sweats and shoved everything into his backpack. "You gotta go," he told himself. "You can't stay here. Come on, Parker, get up." He dragged himself to his feet. "Gotta go."
Home was too far. The thought of crossing the bay with one arm made Peter dizzy all over again, and instead his gaze fell on a familiar tower gleaming in the distance. With a deep breath he started toward it.
Bruce and Tony were down in the lab, boggling together over Peter's bizarre blood sample, when Pepper's anxious voice came through the intercom. "Boys," she said, "I think you'll want to see this."
They joined her in the penthouse, where the television was already taken up with news coverage from further uptown. "We're seeing the first footage from the Oscorp building now," the anchorwoman was saying as a helicopter swooped over a smoking rooftop. "Where not long ago an explosion was reported to have been set off on the roof. Officials on the scene are blaming an intruder that was caught in the act of stealing Oscorp technology from one of the upper level labs."
Bruce's stomach lurched into his throat. "Oh, Peter," he whispered.
Tony and Pepper looked at him. "Sounds like your boy," said Tony.
"I'm sure it is." Bruce scraped the back of his hand over his mouth. "God damn it, I told him no."
A second screen appeared in the corner of the television. "Sir," said JARVIS, "you have an incoming call from Captain Rogers."
"Put him through."
Steve's cheery American flag flashed onto the screen. "Stark, are you seeing this?" Steve said as soon as he was connected. "At the Oscorp building?"
"Yeah, seeing it now." Tony glanced to Bruce. "And I have a pretty good idea who's behind it. I guess I could suit up and do a flyby, see if I can pick him up."
"You'd draw too much attention," said Bruce. When Tony raised an eyebrow he added, "We're not turning him in."
Pepper winced sympathetically. "This is a bit more serious than him sneaking in here. Someone could have been hurt."
"We don't know what happened yet," Bruce insisted. "I'm sure Peter didn't go there looking to cause explosions."
"Well, I'm already in Manhattan," said Steve. "I'm heading your way. Let me know if you hear anything."
"Sure thing." Tony hung up the call and turned to Bruce again. "He's your boyfriend," he said. "How do you want to handle this?"
"He's not-" Bruce rubbed his eyes. "Just, wait. Wait, all right? I want to hear from him what happened."
He moved to the console next to the sofa and dialed Peter's number. His pulse hitched as it rang on and on with no answer and finally went to message. He hung up without leaving one. "Damn it."
"So far, no casualties have been reported," the anchorwoman resumed. "But there seems to be a good deal of damage to the exterior of the building, and-"
She was cut off by the phone ringing, and JARVIS dutifully reported, "Sir, you have an incoming call from the number Dr. Banner just dialed."
"Put it through," Tony and Bruce said together.
A generic phone message box appeared. At first there was only hissing static, and Bruce leaned forward involuntarily, straining to hear. Then he realized it was actually someone's labored breathing, and his stomach leapt all over again. "Peter?"
"Hey," said Peter. His voice was muffled by his mask, as always, but there was something else off about it, as if he was speaking under great strain. "Sorry, Bruce. I didn't take your advice."
Goose bumps rippled up Bruce's spine. "Where are you?"
"Outside." There was a long pause. "Under Mr. Stark's balcony. I had to get away from the chopper."
"Okay." Bruce let out a long, low breath. Peter was there - he was all right. They would figure this out. "It should be safe here, now. Come on up and you can tell me what happened."
Another long pause. "I don't think I can," Peter said hoarsely.
Tony clapped Bruce on the shoulder. His firm hand and stern gaze were very welcomed supports, and Bruce understood immediately. "All right," said Bruce. "Just stay there - we're coming to get you."
"Okay..."
Tony headed for the balcony, but before joining him, Bruce turned to Pepper. "Could you please go to my room and get the brown leather bag?" he asked. "It sounds like he's hurt."
"Of course." Pepper hurried out.
Bruce took a moment to wipe his brow and then followed Tony outside. By then Tony was already halfway into his armor. "Never a dull moment in the Big Apple, is it?" Tony remarked as the metal plates fit into place.
Bruce didn't know what to say. He stood back as Tony finished suiting up and hopped off the edge of the roof. Anxiously he waited, listening to the whine of the Iron Man engines navigating below the balcony. At last Tony emerged with Peter clutched to his chest. Bruce paled at the sight of blood staining the familiar blue and red costume, but even more disturbing was the way Peter was curled against his rescuer, shivering around his backpack. Once they had landed, Peter lifted his head.
"Hey, Bruce," he said weakly.
Bruce rushed forward and accepted Peter into his arms. "I've got him," he said, startled by how light Peter was. He carried Peter swiftly down the steps and back inside while Tony went about de-suiting.
"I'm sorry," said Peter. "I didn't-"
Brush shushed him. "Not now. You can explain later."
By the time they returned, Pepper was waiting with the medical satchel. She spread a thick comforter out on the sofa and stood back as Bruce deposited his charge gently onto it. "Easy, now," Bruce murmured. He winced when easing the backpack off Peter's shoulders elicited a moan of pain. "You're safe here." Once Peter was settled, Bruce reached down and pulled off his mask.
Bruce wasn't prepared. Wide brown eyes stared up at him from within a young face - a face younger than Bruce had ever pictured. He saw Peter for the first time and it was with tear tracks staining his bruised cheeks, with blood in his mouth and pain in his grimace. The charming trickster that had inspired so much in him was hurting and afraid, and Bruce could have never expected how deeply that face would stab into the pit of him. His hands shook and his throat clenched.
Someone had done this to his Peter. Bruce's heart pitched into his ears and he ached to charge into the world and find whoever was responsible. He wanted to tear Oscorp to the ground, wanted to smash and rend and take vengeance. He had lost so much, and someone deserved to die for trying to take anything else from him. Someone deserved all the hate and fury a monster like him had to offer.
Peter shuddered. "Bruce?"
The crack in his voice reeled Bruce in. With a gasp he stumbled back as if realizing for the first time he was standing on a ledge. Cold sweat was on his brow and his skin felt bloated and thin, as if it might give way at any moment. The shock had come too quickly, too strongly, and his sight was beginning to blur.
"Bruce?" It was Pepper this time, and she reached for his arm.
"Don't," Bruce wheezed. He let Peter's mask fall and retreated several more steps. "Don't touch me." He turned for the balcony.
Peter tried to push himself up and couldn't. "Bruce-"
Bruce fled. He passed Tony on his way in and just managed to gasp out, "Stay away from me!" Tony said something but Bruce ignored him. He rushed outside and took in a deep, gulping breath of fresh air. It helped but it wasn't enough, and soon Bruce was curled up against the wall, his head in his hands, his nails in his scalp.
"Stop," he hissed, eyes squeezed shut as he quaked beneath the weight of his anger and shame. "Don't do this, you can't do this. Please stop - please don't, not now." He drew his knees in. "Please, not now."
Peter watched Bruce retreat, confused and frightened. There was something wild in Bruce's eyes that reminded him of their fight the night before. "What's going on?" he asked as Tony and Pepper shared a few short words. "Is he all right?"
"He's fine," Tony said distractedly. He tapped on the side table. "JARVIS, have contingency plan Jolly Green Giant on standby, would you? Keep me updated."
"Certainly, sir."
"Pepper, could you..." Tony gestured vaguely to Peter.
"Tony, I'm not a nurse," she protested.
"And I am?"
Peter sagged into the couch. He felt miserable and if he'd had the strength to get the hell out of there, he would have. He licked his bloody lips and tried to speak, but was interrupted by a chime from the elevator.
Tony heaved a sigh of relief. "Perfect timing."
Peter looked for himself, and wasn't sure if he should be elated or ashamed when he saw Steve heading toward them. He tensed, which only made his throbbing shoulder worse. "Captain..."
Steve shrugged out of his leather jacket and crouched down next to the sofa. "Hey, Peter." He took a quick survey of Peter's injuries and winced. "Looks like you've had a rough night."
"I'm sorry," Peter said automatically. "I had to - I didn't mean for-"
"Calm down. Let's get you cleaned up first." He glanced over his shoulder. "Pepper, could you get some water and a wash cloth, please?"
"Have you got this?" Tony asked as Pepper moved away. "I need to check on Bruce."
Steve frowned, clearly understanding a heavy significance beneath the words. "Yes - go ahead. I'll take care of him."
Tony rummaged through Bruce's leather satchel and then headed for the balcony. "What's going on?" Peter asked again. "What's wrong with Bruce? Is he all right?"
"I'm sure he's fine." Steve leaned forward. "For now I'm more worried about you. You hurt your shoulder?"
"Yeah." Peter tried to move the arm and had to stop, hissing. "I think I dislocated it."
Steve gently probed Peter's shoulder. "I think you did, too." Carefully, he stretched out Peter's arm. "Hold onto my shoulder," he said. "And...here." He snatched Peter's mask off the floor and twisted it. "Bite down on this. I'm going to pop the bone back in."
Peter squirmed and sweat beaded on his forehead. "You've done this before, right?"
"A few times." He urged Peter to bite down on the fabric and then positioned his broad hands over Peter's shoulder. "I'll do it on the count of three, all right? Take a deep breath. One-"
He didn't make it past one. He shoved with the meat of his palm and the bone popped back into its socket with a horrible jerk and a stinging pain. Peter cried into his mask as Steve held him still until his shuddering had passed. "Easy," Steve murmured, and when Peter had calmed he began working the suit off him. "Once the swelling goes down you'll be fine."
Peter spat his mask out. He would have liked to wipe his eyes but then Steve was helping him get his arms out of the suit. "What happened to two and three?"
"I didn't want you to tense up." Steve continued to roll the spandex down, and slowed when he reached the wound in Peter's side. "What happened here?"
"Um..." Peter grimaced. Pepper was coming back and he wasn't sure if he should make an effort to hide the truth from either of them. "I was kind of...shot. Grazed."
Pepper looked concerned, but Steve just shook his head as if he'd already known. His disappointment was palpable and it made Peter sick.
"You can say it," said Peter. "I fucked up."
Steve accepted a rag from Pepper and used it to clean the blood from Peter's mouth and nose. "We'll talk about it later."
"But no one got hurt but me," Peter went on anyway. "There wouldn't even be any damage if those guards weren't firing blindly like maniacs. I really tried to-"
"Peter." Steve set his hand on the top of Peter's head. "I know. I want to hear everything, but for now, just calm down so I can make sure you're all right."
Peter swallowed hard, but he really was exhausted, and it was all too easy to surrender to Steve's care. "Okay," he murmured. He closed his eyes and was sure he could have passed right out. "Thanks."
Steve jerked his hand back suddenly, and Peter started, opening his eyes again. "What?"
Steve frowned at his hand for a long moment and then gave it a shake. "Nothing." He turned his attention back to Peter's wounded side. "It doesn't look like it's still bleeding, but I want to clean it up as best I can. Try to hold still."
"Okay." Peter settled in, and when Pepper caught his eye they shared a brief, nervous smile. "Thank you."
"Bruce."
Bruce shrank back against the wall. He was still shaking, and his skin felt blistering, as if his sweat was steaming off of it. If he had more time, if he had just a bit more clarity, he could fight it, but with his eyes closed all he could think of was a young face, covered in blood-
"Bruce," Tony said again, closer than before.
"Don't." Bruce jammed his hands into his ears. "Stay back. I don't know if I-"
A needle slipped into his neck. Bruce tensed but he knew better than to jerk or try to pull away for fear of snapping it. Even so, Tony's fingers wound in his hair to keep him still. "Listen," said Tony. "If you so much as blush I'm gonna pump you full of sedative. Either this ends with you getting yourself together or you down and out until sunrise, so what are you so afraid of? Trust me, Bruce, this is already over. So take a deep breath and make a choice."
Bruce's lips peeled back in a sneer. "Damn it, Tony. You make it sound so easy."
"It is easy. It's so easy you've already decided, right?" Tony gave Bruce's scalp a rub with his thumb. "You're okay, Bruce, and so is Peter. Steve is with him now and he's fine, but he needs you. So come on. Take a deep breath with me."
Tony sucked in a long breath, and though Bruce was half tempted to punch his lights out, he rallied himself enough to follow suit. They let the breath out together. "Now what's blue and lives in the ocean?" Tony asked.
Bruce chuckled incredulously. "A blue marlin," he huffed.
"Good man." Tony leaned back. "So can I pull the needle out?"
Bruce took in another deep breath and held it. He was still thrumming but the sensation had dulled, and when he opened his eyes he was finally able to focus. "Yes. I'm all right."
Tony slipped the needle out, and with a wince Bruce covered the tiny puncture wound. "That really stings, you know," Bruce complained.
"Yeah, I know." Tony gave Bruce's shoulder a clap and then took his hand to help him up. "You're welcome."
Bruce wobbled on his feet for a moment. He still felt light-headed, even disconnected, like he sometimes felt after having come out of a transformation, but one more long breath helped sort him out. Realizing what a close call it had been, and how only a few encouragements had pulled him out of it, filled him with pride. "I am getting better," he murmured, mystified.
"You are," Tony agreed. "Now come help us look after your boy."
They rejoined the others in the penthouse just as Steve was applying a sterile gauze pad to Peter's injured side. The blood had been cleaned from Peter's face but he was still bruised and pale, and the guilt in his eyes when he looked up made Bruce's stomach clench. "Bruce," he said quickly. "I'm sorry."
Bruce leaned against the sofa's armrest and reached down, smoothing Peter's mussed hair away from his face. "It's okay. I know why you did it."
Peter winced loudly as Steve finished applying the bandage. Seeing him in pain didn't help Bruce's still fragile state, but he stayed, gently stroking Peter's unblemished cheek. "Just relax," he said quietly. "Try to sleep, if you can. We can sort this out later."
Peter glanced between the four of them. "Are you going to turn me in?"
Tony and Steve exchanged a look, but Bruce set his hand over Peter's eyes before he could see it. "No," Bruce said. "No one's turning in anyone. Rest, Peter. You're safe here."
Peter nodded, and when Bruce pulled his hand back, his eyes remained closed. As his breath evened out Pepper drew the blanket over him. Bruce continued to lightly stroke Peter's face and hair until it seemed he'd finally fallen asleep.
Steve used a rag to clean the blood from his fingers. "Bruce," he said gently.
"I know." Bruce rubbed his eyes. "What a mess."
"You told me he didn't steal that webbing from Oscorp," said Tony.
"He didn't - he doesn't. This wasn't about that." Bruce dropped into the opposite sofa, and after a moment Tony joined him. "Peter isn't just smart and athletic," he explained. "His abilities are superhuman. He told me he got those abilities while at Oscorp. He's just trying to understand himself."
"But Bruce." Steve drew a chair closer and sat down. "He was shot tonight. It's going to leave a scar, and it won't be the only one."
Bruce stared fixedly at the far wall; he was afraid that if he looked at Peter he would start imagining the dozen ways he could have - and probably had - been injured. "I know."
"He's a good kid," Steve continued. "He's saved a lot of lives. I know - I've seen him in action. But he is a kid, and he's lucky he didn't have his lung shot out tonight. That luck is going to run out."
"So what are you saying? That we should turn him in?"
Tony took over. "Oscorp doesn't mess around. Not only has he been using their webbing, he's drawn first blood. They will go after him."
Bruce leaned into his hands. His head ached and he didn't feel up to making important decisions. "If we turn him in, he'll go to prison. I'm not doing that to him."
"We don't want that, either," said Steve. "But this isn't okay. We have to talk to him."
"I know." Bruce sighed and shook his head. "Just give him some time. Give me some time. I can't think straight right now."
They relented. Tony turned the volume back up on the news report and they watched without speaking as Oscorp's head of security gave a statement. Only one camera had caught any part of the fight on the roof, and it showed little more than a man dressed in black moving very fast. No one was able to properly identify the intruder as Spider-Man, but Bruce couldn't take much solace in that fact. The city's vigilante had had his reputation tarnished.
Pepper made fresh coffee. She passed it out to the grateful men, but when she got to Steve, she paused. "Are you all right?" she asked.
Steve drew himself up in his chair. "Yes, sorry." He accepted the mug and took a sip. "Thank you."
Bruce went back to watching the news, but then Pepper spoke up again, and it drew his attention. "Are you sure? You look flushed."
"I'm fine; just a headache."
Pepper pressed the back of her palm to Steve's forehead. "You feel warm to me."
Steve tried to say again that he was fine, but by then Pepper was already waving Bruce over. Bruce complied, and when he touched Steve's forehead he was startled by how hot it was. He felt out the lymph nodes below Steve's ear. "You have a fever," he said incredulously.
"It's nothing," Steve insisted.
Tony watched them over the lip of his mug. "I thought the Super Soldier Serum meant he can't get sick anymore."
"It does." Despite Steve's protests, Bruce checked his eyes and the inside of his mouth. "But it sure looks like he's fighting something."
"Bruce, I'm fine," said Steve. "I've had worse, believe me."
He started to urge Bruce's hands off him, but then Pepper jumped and grabbed his wrist. "What is that?"
She showed his hand to Bruce. A red bumped had swelled near the joint of his thumb. "I don't know," said Steve. "Something bit me, I guess, a minute ago. A spider, maybe."
Bruce's heart skipped a beat. "A spider? Are you sure?"
"Maybe. I didn't see it."
Bruce looked to Peter, still asleep on the couch. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he hurried to Peter's side. "Peter." He shook him gently awake. "Peter, wake up."
Peter groaned and stretched. "What?"
"You went to Oscorp tonight to get a spider, didn't you?" he asked urgently. "Did you manage to get one?"
"Yeah." Peter eyed him nervously. "It's in my backpack. Why?"
As Bruce grabbed the backpack Tony set his coffee aside and stood. "What's going on?"
Bruce found the plastic container, but when he went to pull it out, the lid shifted. It hadn't sealed properly and there was nothing inside. When Peter saw it, his eyes went wide. "Oh, shit."
Bruce dumped out the contents of the bag and gave it a shake while Peter combed his hair with his fingers and checked under the blanket. The brief searched turned up nothing, and with a grumbled curse of his own Bruce returned to Steve and inspected his hand again. "It really looks like a spider bite, doesn't it," he said under his breath. He pressed two fingers to the inside of his wrist and measured his pulse.
Steve watched him closely. "What is it?"
"Seriously," added Tony. "What is going on?"
Bruce felt new sweat form on his brow and he took Tony by the elbow, leading him a few paces away. "I think he's been bitten by the spider Peter brought back from Oscorp," he said. "His immune system must be reacting to the venom."
"They're venomous?" Tony flinched. "Wait, those spiders are radioactive."
"Exactly. Think about it, Tony." Bruce lowered his voice. "What happens when you expose that serum to radiation?"
Tony straightened with understanding. "You." He poked Bruce in the chest. "You happen."
"Hey," snapped Steve. "Will one of you please tell me what the hell is going on?"
Bruce and Tony exchanged a look. "How do we handle this?" asked Tony.
Bruce didn't know. The thought of someone else sharing any part of his affliction put a taste of bile in his throat. There was still too much he didn't understand about the serum they shared and he had no idea what to expect. He took a deep breath and returned to Steve's side. "You're all right," he said, trying to sound reassuring, but Steve must have seen right through him. "Here - get up. I'm moving you to the couch."
Peter scooted up against the armrest and drew his legs in so Steve had room to lie down. "Is he all right? Did he really-"
"I think so." Bruce urged Steve to stretch out and shoved a pillow under his head. "I need you to relax," he said. "Close your eyes, rest. You'll be fine but this is important."
Steve pushed him back and started to sit up. "I'm not doing anything until-"
"Steve." Bruce pressed both hands to Steve's chest. "Please. I need you to keep your heart rate down."
At last Steve caught on, and he sank onto his back. "Oh my god."
"You're all right." Bruce yanked his leather bag closer and dug through it. "But the spider that bit you may have been irradiated, and what you're feeling is a reaction to the venom. I'm pretty sure your natural immunity will take care of it, but just in case, I'm going to take a sample of your blood down to the lab. In the meantime, I need you to sit tight and stay calm, all right?"
Steve obediently rolled up his sleeve. "Okay. Okay."
Peter leaned forward, rubbing his sore shoulder as he watched Bruce slip the need into the inside of Steve's arm. "He's going to be all right, isn't he?"
"Of course he is." Bruce pressed a cotton swab to the tiny puncture and then secured his sample. "I'm just being as safe as possible." He gave Steve a pat and then pushed to his feet. "I'll be back soon."
"Do you want me to come with?" Tony offered.
"No. I'd rather you stay here and keep an eye on him." Bruce hesitated. "Do you still have that syringe?" When Tony nodded, he continued on. "Use it if you have to. I'll give you an update as soon as I can."
Peter watched him leave with a lump in his throat. Once Bruce was gone he turned back to Steve and winced all over again. Steve was staring up at the ceiling, making a visible effort to take each breath slowly and calmly. It was such a different image than the last time Peter had seen him, so strong and comforting and in control, and it chilled him. "Hey...Captain?"
Steve didn't look at him. "Yes?"
Peter edged closer. "I'm sorry," he said. "This is my fault. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt, I just-"
"Peter." Steve closed his eyes. "Not right now, please."
Peter wilted. He watched Steve's measured breath and flushed cheeks and neck; he felt horrible. Tony and Pepper were staring at him and he wanted to find a crack to hide in. "I'm sorry," he said again, curling up beneath the blanket.
The room fell quiet except for the news. Peter listened as it moved on from the Oscorp break-in to weather and sports. He wanted to ask what the reporters had said, if he had been recognized and if the police were looking for him, but he didn't dare speak up with Tony watching him the way he was. He wasn't sure how to identify the tight expression. Suspicious, maybe.
"So," said Tony. "Tell us about your spider."
Peter gulped and tried to straighten up a bit. "Um, I actually don't know much about it," he said. "I was trying to get one so that Bruce could help me learn something."
Pepper took the seat Steve had been in. "Did that thing really bite you? And that's how you can walk on walls?"
"Well, yes." Peter didn't suspect a demonstration would be welcome at the moment. "I was visiting Oscorp as an intern when it happened. I fell asleep on the subway on my way home, and when I woke up, I had...super powers. I don't really understand it myself, but that's what happened." He glanced to Steve. "So, uh, maybe if we're lucky-"
"I don't need super powers," interrupted Steve.
"You mean, more than you already do?" said Pepper lightly. "You never know, Steve. Maybe climbing on walls will come in handy."
Steve's brow furrowed. "I'd really rather not," he said, his fist clenching against his stomach. "I've seen what this serum can do when it's misused. I don't want that." The tendons on the back of his hand stood out, and Peter was just thinking that they were inordinately pronounced when he realized the mark of the spider bite had turned black.
"Mr. Stark...?" Peter waved at it, and Tony and Pepper both moved closer.
When Steve noticed them crowding around him he jerked his hand back. The black stain spread along his raised tendons and darkened his knuckles. "Don't touch me!" he snapped.
"Rogers, calm down." Tony held his hands up in a placating gesture. "We just want to see."
"Don't." Steve clutched his hand to his chest and tried to squirm away. His breath hitched with panic. "I'm fine."
"Do you want me to get you some water?" offered Pepper. She winced. "Or maybe a Valium?"
Steve sat up. His face was still flushed and perspiration gleamed on his skin. Peter watched with horrified fascination as his skin continued to blacken, spreading out from the bite like spilled ink. "Leave me alone," he gasped, drawing as far away from them as the sofa allowed. His eyes were glazing over. "Stay back!"
Pepper continued to try and calm him while Tony retrieved a syringe from a nearby side table. Peter could only stare in shock as Steve's knuckles cracked and widened, and his dry skin thickened to ragged husks. The more the transformation spread the more desperate Steve became, and when Tony approached to sedate him he lashed out, knocking the syringe away. The sharp movement of his arm drew the spreading venom into the rest of his body even faster, until his chest was expanding, his spine rippling against the confines of his button down, his jaw stretching.
"Stay away from me!" Steve shouted. His voice grew hoarse and inhuman as the transformation took him over. His bony shoulders and pelvis ripped through his clothing, revealing his distorted physic and hard, exoskeleton-like skin. His hair blackened and spread down his neck and body in prickling scopulae. His face was last. Steve's eyes sunk in and his bones warped, leaving a dark, skull-like form with a protruding brow and exposed fangs.
Tony grabbed Pepper by the arm and drew her back as Peter leapt for cover behind the couch. "JARVIS-" he shouted.
Steve's lips peeled back and he let out a shrill bellow. A panel opened from the ceiling but before any machinery could emerge Steve fled, casting furniture out of his way on his way toward the balcony. The glass doors shattered easily and then Steve was gone, having flung himself over the edge.
Peter began yanking his suit back on. "Holy shit. What the hell just happened?"
"JARVIS, stand down," ordered Tony. "He's gone." He headed for the balcony. "Pepper, tell Bruce. I'm going after him."
Peter followed him outside despite his wobbly knees. Together they ran to the edge and looked out, easily spotting the new, monstrous Steve as he climbed down the side of the tower to the street below. "I don't suppose this is a side effect you're familiar with," said Tony.
Peter shook his head. "N-No. Not that I remember."
Tony stepped back and headed for the stairs that led to his armor assembly. When he realized that Peter was still following, he waved him back. "Go back inside and tell Bruce."
"I'm coming with you," said Peter. "I can help."
"You'll just get in the way."
The upper balcony opened up, and Peter gaped as the Iron Armor was fit, piece by piece, onto its host. He wished the circumstances weren't so dire and he had the chance to fully appreciate what he was witnessing. He shook himself. "I can help," he repeated. "And it's because of me that-"
"You've done enough," Tony snapped. The face mask clanged down. "We'll handle this."
Peter stood back as Tony took off. Bile burned the back of his throat but he wasn't about to give up. He charged back down the stairs and into the penthouse to grab his web slingers and mask.
"And then he just took off," Pepper was explaining to Bruce as he stepped off the elevator. "Tony went after him. We have to do something."
"We will." When Bruce spotted Peter he hurried over. "What are you doing?"
Peter clicked fresh cartridges into each of his shooters. "I'm going after them," he said firmly.
"Peter, Steve won't recognize you in the state he's in. He might try to hurt you."
"And anyone who gets in his way, right?" Peter finished and rolled his sleeves down. A deep breath solidified his conviction. "I have to go after them. Mr. Stark might need help, and this is my fault!" He stood and faced Bruce directly. "It's my responsibility, and I don't know if I could forgive myself if something happened to Captain Rogers because of me." He could still taste blood in the corners of his mouth and it made him sick. "Too many people have been hurt because of me already."
He started to turn, hoping to make a run for it before Bruce could stop him, and was startled when Bruce said, "All right. But I'm coming with you."
Peter eyed him. "How? You're not that big, but too big for me to carry."
"You won't have to." Bruce unbuttoned his shirt.
"Are you sure about this?" Pepper asked carefully. "After what almost happened a few minutes ago?"
"I don't have a choice," said Bruce. "I'll be all right. This time, it'll be on my terms." He lifted his head. "JARVIS, do you still have the Hulk contingency prepped?"
"I do, sir."
"I need you to eject one of the cartridges for me."
Peter stared in confusion as Bruce tossed his shirt aside and then took off his shoes, socks, and belt. "What the hell are you doing?"
"You'll see." Bruce lifted his head, and when a metal cartridge the size of his hand popped out of the ceiling, he caught it and began taking it apart. "Since you came clean with me this morning, I guess it's my turn," he said with a slight shake of his head.
Peter pulled his mask on. "What's that?"
Bruce shed the metal casing and revealed a thick glass vial full of yellow liquid. "It's the first thing Tony and I developed when I agreed to stay here," Bruce explained. "A much more refined derivative of EA-3167, military grade incapacitating agent. It'll render almost any living thing unconscious with less than a milligram dosage." He handed the vial to Peter. "When we get close enough, break that close to Steve's face. It'll take aerosol form and should, hopefully, put him to sleep. Just make sure you don't breathe any in."
Peter slid the vial into his sleeve. "Okay."
"Take this, too," said Pepper. She handed him an earpiece, which he slipped into place under his mask. "JARVIS and I can track you, and you'll be able to keep in touch with Tony, too."
"Thanks."
"Be careful, both of you."
Peter and Bruce moved out onto the balcony. "Here we go," said Bruce, rallying himself. He glared at the city skyline and took a deep breath. "Don't try to catch me - I'll be fine."
Peter blinked at him. "What?"
Bruce took off running. Peter followed, his heart leaping into his throat when he realized that Bruce was headed straight for the edge. With every step, Bruce changed; his skin darkened to rich green, his muscles bulged and expanded, his entire body swelled and flexed and grew monstrous. By the time he reached the balcony ledge he was something else, and he jumped, his legs propelling him an inhuman distance to the roof of the next building. Peter was so shocked he almost forgot that he was racing toward the same ledge, and only just had enough presence of mind to launch his web when his foot hit empty air. His shoulder ached but held as he swung to the next building and landed next to his companion.
He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes: Bruce was gone, replaced with a green beast that only bore the barest resemblance. The creature hunched down, meeting Peter's gaze with steely patience. Peter gulped. "It's you," he blurted out, overwhelmed. "That thing from Harlem - you are one of them, you're-"
"Hulk," the creature said. He extended his arm, and when Peter failed to understand, he grunted and waved.
"Hulk," Peter repeated. "Okay..." With a deep breath he climbed up Hulk's arm onto his back. There was only smooth skin to hold onto, so he crouched against Hulk's broad shoulder blades and stuck in place with his hands and feet. He gulped. "I'm ready."
Hulk rotated his shoulders. Once he seemed reassured that Peter was secure, he straightened up and took off for the next rooftop. Despite his huge size he sailed through the sky as if weightless, and landed with perfect balance and a cushioning bend of his knees. Peter held on tight, too amazed to think clearly as they made their way toward the flash of Iron Man's repulsors in the distance.