Haha, yet another chapter! This is where things ramp up, and our plot really begins to develop. It was fun to write, and I hope that it is enjoyable to read!
Our Design Is Right
Peter gazed out the window of the Ford Crown Victoria they were in, wending their way through New York traffic. Bucky was driving, having the most extensive experience in dealing with tight spaces around vehicles.
Rogers, Bucky, and Natasha were dressed in drab business suits, their combat uniforms underneath. Natasha grumbled loudly when Commander Rogers informed her that it didn't look professional for her shirt to be unbuttoned halfway down her torso, and the fabric was obviously strained. It was like that for any clothing issued to Natasha, and Peter had a sneaking suspicion the nerds in Procurement knew exactly what she looked like in their specially designed suits.
Peter, on the other hand, was clad in street clothing, a hooded leather jacket over his shirt, his own suit underneath all of it. It was slightly warm under all the layers, but he knew that comfort was not high on the list of priorities.
"All right, Spider-Man, listen up," Commander Rogers said, adjusting his sunglasses. "We're letting you out five blocks away. You get to walk to the opposite street from where we'll be parked. They have Benjamin in the adjoining building, away from their offices."
"Offices," Natasha snorted. "Some cover."
"It actually is," Bucky pointed out. "You can hide large personnel right under everyone's noses if they're all in collared shirts and in cubicles."
"Regardless," Rogers went on. "They wouldn't want to reveal Ben just right yet. Grab him, head to the rendezvous point."
"Shouldn't I come back you guys up afterwards?" Peter asked.
"I think you'll be wanting to play cozy-catch up with your little brother," Bucky answered. "This is your stop. Get out."
"Nice," Peter said, opening the door as the car stopped at a red light. "See if I ever tip you again."
"See you later," Natasha said. He waved at her as he closed the door. The light changed, the car moved on.
Peter ducked into a back alley. After making sure that no one was around, he pulled his outer clothing off, putting his mask on.
Technically, this was supposed to be an undercover op. But whenever Peter was in Manhattan, he couldn't resist. He had to go web-slinging.
He was always fast enough that no one could make out the S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia on his shoulder, and his spider-sense was attuned to cameras as well as danger. They didn't need the blow-hard at the Daily Bugle, J. Jonah Jameson publishing another story on S.H.I.E.L.D. totalitarianism.
Although the man did have a point. There were some missions Peter had refused point-blank to do, mostly on U.S. soil. It had gotten him into hot water with Supervisor Carter on more than occasion, but Fury had always given him a pass.
Peter felt like he was just biding his time, waiting until the moment was ripe, when he would just drop off the radar, and disappear from S.H.I.E.L.D. forever. He had paid the price for his murder of the robber. Now he needed to atone, and relive his own life.
One thing kept preying on his mind. There was one thing he knew would anchor him until he could pull away. And that was Natasha.
He gave a sigh as he shot a web into the sky. But as he yanked on it and became airborne, all of his troubles faded away as he soared through the sky.
The wind blew past his close-cropped hair, and he felt free, freer than he had felt all his life. This was what he lived for. Not the missions. Not his friends.
Web-slinging. That opened him up more than anything. This made him feel alive and happy when nothing else did. The claustrophobic atmosphere of the Triskelion vanished as he flew through the open air, falling, launching off a new line, running along the side of buildings, leaping off, flipping along the skyline, and falling again, to start it all over.
He glanced at the watch in his HUD.
It should take them seven minutes to get to the office building, six since Bucky's driving. Six minutes. Let's see what I can do in that time.
He glanced downward, scanning the back alleys and dark corners of the city. Invariably, there was some crime or other happening, whether a mugging, a robbery, or something darker. Either or, Peter always interceded and saved the day. This was the work he felt truly important, what he did to make up for what S.H.I.E.L.D. made him do. This was using his power responsibly.
In this case, there was a gang attacking a young couple who tried to take a short-cut. Five guys, one of Peter. The odds were against them.
"Gentlemen!" Peter said, landing amongst them. "Let me make this simple. If you lie down now, I won't kick your asses. Deal?"
One of them threw a tire iron at his head, which he easily blocked.
"No deal. Fine then."
He ducked again as two of the punks threw punches at him, planting a hand on the ground and spinning his legs in a helicopter kick that took out three of them instantly. Despite being gang bangers, they were pitifully untrained. Peter went relatively easy on them, and after a few seconds, all five of them were down. He webbed them up, quickly disappearing, waving at the shocked couple.
"Don't forget to leave a performance review!" he called after them, swinging away. The whole excursion took 30 seconds. He had time.
In the course of the next five minutes, he had stopped five purse snatchers, two muggers, a would-be murderer, a store thief. He had 30 seconds left on the clock, when he heard it.
Sirens. Fire truck sirens. And then his vision isolated the smoke. One of the tenements was on fire, and screams were coming from inside.
Peter's mind slowed time down, weighing his options as he was about to shoot a web. Fires were tricky things, because you needed to take your time while not going too slowly. If rushed, though, Peter might cause more harm than good.
On the other hand, if he dallied too long, the mission might go sour, and he would have an awful lot of explaining to do.
And then Uncle Ben's face swam to the forefront of his mind's eye, telling him once again;
Your father had a philosophy that he held to pretty strongly. He believed that if you had the ability to do great things for people, then it was your duty, your responsibility to do those things. You are destined for great things. Great things, Peter. And with that will come a great deal of responsibility. Do you understand?
"Ah, hell," Peter mumbled, changing direction toward the fire. "I do, Uncle Ben. I do."
As soon as he got to the fire, an explosion ripped through the building, adding to the flume. He gasped, realizing that someone had a gas oven, and that it must have been on.
Don't think. Don't panic. Just go.
He charged straight through one of the windows, shattering it, and rolling through the fire that was close to the source of oxygen. His suit was fireproof, but his mask didn't cover all of his head. He activated his breathing apparatus, moving from room to room, scanning for anyone still in the building.
A little girl was huddled in the corner of one room. He quickly scooped her up, moving on. A young mother and her baby. A boy with a broken leg.
He could carry them all easily enough, but fitting through the fiery doorframes was becoming tricky. He made for an open window, spinning a web that lowered them safely to the fire department below.
As he moved on, the door before him burst open, and several men in fire hazmat suits appeared.
"Thank God!" he gasped, activating the speaker on his mask. "Is that everyone on that side of-?"
His question was cut short as one of the men attacked him with a katana. His mind barely registered the sword with shock before he switched over to his training.
As the rest of the men flanked him in the closed space, he realized their suits were not the government-issue fire department suits. They were sleeker, better adapted to allow for their fighting style, which was distinctly Japanese ninjitsu. Peter had studied ninjitsu, but in this closed and dangerous space, it didn't seem wise.
The ninjas seemed to disagree, all of them wielding various weapons like swords, knives, shruikens, and nun chucks. They were leaping all over the place, whipping up the fire around them
Peter moved swiftly, barely managing to keep one step ahead of them. Between the ninjas and the fire, his spider-sense was all but useless, buzzing constantly. He kept moving, realizing that he needed to retreat, or he would be overwhelmed.
He dove for the window closest to him, but one of the ninjas, the one with the long katana, moved in front of him. Peter grabbed him by the front of his suit, yanking him out of the way. As he did so, the fabric tore, and he felt his grasp close on the strip he tore off.
Once again, he felt glass shatter under his body, and he fell somewhat before correcting himself with a web-line.
The weather had changed, clouds covering the sky, rain coming down. The fire was being put out, but as Peter turned around to scan the area, no traces of the ninjas were present.
He slung himself up onto a rooftop, perching himself carefully, gazing down. Smoke poured out the holes of the building. None of the crowd below had noticed his exit, for which he was grateful.
Peter looked down at the cloth he had torn away. It was black, smoke-stained, and he realized that it wasn't fire-resistant cloth. On the front was a red hand insignia, with the fingers formed into a fist.
A hand? What's the significance of that?
But then he realized he was way over time, and that his current mission needed his attention. Hopefully he could wrap it up quickly and pretend like nothing happened.
"We need to talk."
Natasha sighed as Bucky leaned over to whisper in her ear. Commander Rogers had gone to talk to the office supervisor, double-checking to see if they had the right building. Bucky and Natasha were in the waiting room, with no one else but a secretary who was engrossed in her work.
"What about?" she asked quietly.
"Peter and Clint. I don't think they're fully loyal to the program." Natasha looked at Bucky, who looked deadly serious. He never cracked a joke, so he was always serious. But what he said was so ludicrous that Natasha couldn't help but stare.
"Not loyal? What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded. Bucky swallowed.
"I recognize Peter's demeanor," he said. "It was the same as when I was trapped in Russia for that year, before we were both recovered by S.H.I.E.L.D. I pretended to obey your father until I saw my moment, and then I attacked. Timed it perfectly with the arrival of Steve. You helped me, you know how I behaved."
"Let me tell you something," Natasha said, pointing a finger at Bucky. "You were a hell of a good actor. Peter… not so much. He doesn't need to hide behind a mask."
"Except he does," Bucky pointed out. "Physically and emotionally. Come on, he's had a crush on you since he first joined us, and you're still trying to deny it."
"Come on," Natasha said, although her heart rate picked up a little. "He's gotten over that. And what do you think I want from him?"
"Short of a committed relationship, nothing," Bucky observed. "You are all an all or nothing kinda gal. Peter, on the other hand, does things by half. It took him longer than anyone else to become a full agent."
"If he had become an agent in his first year," Natasha said pointedly, "then I would be suspicious." She gave Bucky a look. He himself had graduated to full agent within ten months of initiation. He frowned.
"I've had experience," he started to say.
"So have I," Natasha said. "Yes, I remember my father. I remember how you acted. And honestly… I don't see it. At all. Not in Clint, much less in Peter." She turned away, a clear indication that the conversation was over. Bucky didn't pursue the matter, folding his arms.
Peter had been little more than a civilian when he first joined. All of them, more or less, had some experience under their belts with the whole black ops thing. Natasha's father had approved of his daughter joining his secret police in Russia from the age of ten. Bucky had been an assassin from a very young age, and Clint had been forced to kill to stay alive since he was a young boy. But Peter had a normal life until his spider-powers changed everything.
Sometimes Natasha wished that Peter could have stayed in that life and avoided the messy world of S.H.I.E.L.D. Perhaps he himself wished that.
But no. He wouldn't turn his back on them, on her. He wouldn't do that.
"He should be retrieving Ben by now," Natasha pointed out, nodding at the clock. "Wonder what he's like?"
"Probably like every other Hydra agent we've encountered," Bucky answered. "Until we've rehabilitated him."
"Ever heard of small talk?"
"Ever heard of mind on mission?"
And that was the closest Bucky ever came to a joke. Natasha sighed, looking out the window again. It was starting to rain.
Suddenly, the entire building shook, and they both heard a muffled explosion from beneath them. They exchanged looks, before drawing their sidearms, going in the direction Commander Rogers had disappeared.
But he came running down the hallway, his trench coat billowing about him like a cape.
"It was a bluff," he explained tersely, beckoning them to follow him. "A diversion. There's nothing here, and Carter's just commed me. The Triskelion's under attack."
Both Natasha and Bucky looked shocked, but not as shocked as they felt as soon as they stepped outside.
It wasn't just the Triskelion under attack. The entire city was on fire. Markings were burned into the sides of the skyscrapers, branding them as property. On some were the distinct figurehead of Hydra, with the multi-headed serpent. But on some of the others was branding a closed fist.
"The Hand," Rogers whispered, stunned. "Impossible…"
"They were eradicated!" Bucky exclaimed, also shocked. "How are they here?"
"All S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel, this is Director Fury," came the voice of their boss on all of their coms. He was broadcasting on an open channel. "New York is under attack. Hydra has returned. I repeat, Hydra is back. As well as the Hand. Your mission operators will update you on the Hand, but all you need to know is that all Hand and Hydra troops are to be shot on sight. Repeat, no quarter. They have declared a state of war across the globe, and they are battling each other. Repeat… we are at war. Tony Stark has his mechas all over the city. Converge on those positions. Iron Man is doing flyovers. All available agents in Code Red recall, return to the Triskelion. Repeat, return to the Triskelion. We are under attack."
And then they realized that the city wasn't on fire. It was at war. People dressed in ninja garb were fighting people clad in armor, with green serpents on their infantry. Rogers and Bucky stared in horror as images from a lifetime away were forcibly brought back to their minds. But Commander Rogers clenched his jaw, ripping his suit off, revealing his combat uniform underneath, with its star emblem on the chest.
"Civilian protection is our priority," he said tersely. "All units in my vicinity, come to my position. Stark, send a mecha my way. I'm in Times Square."
"Commander," Bucky said, pulling his own suit off while Natasha eagerly ripped her shirt away. "Commander, we should return to the Triskelion. If Fury's putting out the Code Red…"
"Nick can handle himself," Rogers said. "Now, let's move!"
Peter frantically made his way out of the building.
He had become wary as soon as he realized no one was in it. No Hydra, no guards, and no Ben. And then the tremors started, and he made a check on his mission statement, aborting the mission to attend to other matters.
As it turned out, other matters were his new mission.
An army of Hydra troops were rolling through New York, with heavy infantry and artillery. Combating them were not S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers, but another army comprised of the ninjas Peter had fought earlier. A red fist fought the green serpent. And then he heard Fury's call to action.
His immediate thought was to RV with the rest of his team, above all else, to make sure Natasha was safe. But all other thoughts vanished from his mind as he heard Fury's voice on his private channel.
"Parker? What the fuck are you- ARGH!"
Peter's heart froze as heard Fury scream. Fury was never given to outbursts of pain like that. He was a Super Soldier, one of the few with 3S to not suffer any side effects. And then Peter heard a crack, the same kind as when neckbones are broken.
Time slowed down as Peter frantically web-slung through the dense smoke of the battle, ignoring the fray, dodging attacks when he needed to. He barely registered the Stark Mechas, or even Iron Man passing overhead. He had to get to the Triskelion, to confirm what his com had told him.
The tall, massive base came into his sight as he reached the harbor. Small aircraft were flying around, attacking it, small fires erupting all across the walls. He did the math in his head, figuring out how much momentum he needed to make in order to swing across the water and onto the base itself.
But then the worst happened. Like the building he had encountered before, an explosion ripped through the Triskelion, gigantic and destructive, ripping a great hole in the side of the building. Several more explosions followed, and Peter felt himself get thrown backwards by the force of the explosions occurring a good three miles away.
"All S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, this is Supervisor Carter. Director Fury is down. I repeat, Director Fury is down. The Triskelion is lost. Go to Operation: Underground."
Operation Underground, the contingency plan for when S.H.I.E.L.D. was forced to make a retreat. Never had they thought that particular contingency would be needed. And yet, here was Carter, barking orders despite the increasing pandemonium around her.
Peter didn't notice his spider-sense until it was too late. A large piece of random debris collided with him, hard, on his entire left side. He crashed against the opposite skyscraper, crashing through the glass window, and lost consciousness.
His last thought was not of Fury, nor even of Natasha. It was of Clint, locked away in solitary, almost certainly doomed never to break free again.
Wow. Lotsa huggles bear. Lotsa action and violence. And I know I'm using the whole skyscraper branding thing in other stories too(Ultimate Teen Titans), but hey, it's an awesome idea.
Also, bonus points for whoever guesses where the chapter titles come from.