Good morning, lab rats. As promised, here's a new chapter.

Introduced in this chapter are some more of the Level Ten agents, as well as finding out what happened to certain people after the Battle For New York. Also introduced is the pairing that I've seen portrayed before, and I want a crack at it. Don't worry, Pete and Natasha will end up together. It is going to take a little bit, as I want to drag Peter around on a little feels trip.

And once again, mad props to the person who figures out where the chapter titles come from. Hint: they're song lyrics.

Burn It To The Ground

"Is this it?"

Natasha looked up at Commander Rogers, who was standing atop some rubble. They had found refuge inside a parking structure, where cars lay around, abandoned, some totaled, some still intact. A small crowd of people were gathered around, huddled together, making little noise.

"This is all we recovered," she answered him.

The battle had died down an hour ago, leaving the entire Lower East Side in ruin. The Hand and Hydra had barely even noticed the intervention of S.H.I.E.L.D., preferring to fight amongst themselves. Unfortunately, their attacks were destructive and left many innocent people injured or dead. They had claimed some buildings for their own, branding the sides of them with either the emerald serpent or the ruby fist.

Rogers had called a small team of agents to him, with the objective of protecting as many innocent people as they could. They had a group of about 150 people, a good 1/3 of them wounded.

Not long after, Iron Man had arrived, carrying with him a survival pod. Inside was the comatose body of Tony Stark. It had jettisoned out of the Triskelion in time to protect the paralyzed genius, removing his mind from the S.H.I.E.L.D. database. Now he lived solely inside the gold and red armor, moving large blocks of concrete to reinforce their barricade as well as making space for the injured.

"Very well," Rogers said, his face grim. "Call the Level Tens. We need to debrief them."

Natasha nodded, concealing the worry she felt. They had lost contact with Peter after the battle commenced, and no one had seen him. She was worried he may have been killed. But more than that, she was afraid of whether or not he had been captured alive.

Also weighing on her mind was the fate of Clint. Whether or not he survived the attack on the Triskelion, no one had reported.

"All right, people, listen up," Commander Rogers addressed the small group before him. They were gathered in an adjoining room, created by the ceiling fallen in. "We have a situation."

"That's an understatement," scoffed Iron Man, his voice echoing slightly out of his vocoder. "I haven't even done a flyover of what's left of base…"

"Well, you won't have to," Rogers replied. "That's what I want Agent Logan to do."

Logan looked up. The mutant brawler had joined up with them early on, accompanied by Rogue and Beast, Henry McCoy. He nodded at the mention of his name.

"You will take a small team, no more than three people," Rogers went on. "Go to the Triskelion, and try to recover anything you can. People, data, anything. We need to make sure Hawkeye's still alive."

"Understood," Logan growled. "I'll take Specter and Drew. Don't think I need any more."

Natasha looked at Jessica, whose face was pale and drawn. She hadn't said a word since she had shown up, concerned as she was over Clint's fate.

"Good," Rogers went on. "We need another team to do a sweep of the city, find out what's going on, and try to locate our MIA. We have three agents unaccounted for. Thor, Parker, and Jones. Agent Cage, I want you leading that team."

Luke Cage nodded, also not speaking. Jessica Jones was his wife, and her disappearance was clearly troubling him. As for Thor, silence from the God of Thunder never boded well.

"I also want people to touch base with the Future Foundation," Rogers continued. "Find out if the BaxterBuilding is still standing."

"That place? Richards has it decked out with security that hasn't been invented yet," Iron Man pointed out.

"Regardless, our radios are being monitored, and I don't want to be in the dark," Rogers said. "Stark, you go to Richards, find out if they're okay."

"Will do."

"Barnes, Romanov, I want you to do a recce of the island," Rogers said, pointing at Bucky and Natasha. "You two are the best spies we've got, and we need intel. Get us some."

Natasha opened her mouth to protest, but closed it quickly. She would much rather have gone on the mission to look for Peter, but she knew her duty.

"Why hasn't anyone tried to contact us?" Doctor Banner asked. He was coming down off a medication high, being dosed up to prevent the outbreak of the Hulk during the present crisis. "From S.H.I.E.L.D. Command?"

"They would realize the frequencies are being watched," Rogers answered. "We're completely in the dark right now, and we need to change that."

"You all have your missions. Stay safe, come back alive."

Peter groaned, raising his head off the ground.

He felt a massive bruise on his side, but luckily, he hadn't suffered any cuts. The suit had done its job well. But now he had to get back into action.

Standing up, he looked around. The rooftop was completely trashed, rubble and concrete spread all over. As he turned, he saw the city spread out before him.

Smoke drifted into the sky, pouring out of fires that burned in buildings as far as the eye could see. He could see the destruction spread as far as the bridges, huge holes blown through them, cutting main transportation off from the rest of the world.

He caught sight of the wreckage of the Triskelion, and set his jaw.

My god. It's… it's destroyed.

He shot a web, swinging high in the air, making his way to the remains of the base. When he arrived, he found only more destruction around him. Bodies lay strewn, and he was stunned to see more S.H.I.E.L.D. issue blue-suited bodies than the green-clad Hydra agents. They had done their work too well.

How were they able to amass an army behind our back? We should have picked up on their activity months ago… years, even.

Looking around, he discovered that Hydra seemed to have been solely behind the attack. The Hand was nowhere to be seen, either bodies, or weapons. None of the dead were killed by ninja weapons.

He passed by the bodies of people he didn't know by name, and he didn't recognize many of them. Level Ten had their own cloistered neighborhood, kept apart from the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D., even though they interacted with them almost every day.

More and more Peter cursed the existence he had lived, trained to be a killing machine, murdering people on the order of a few people.

His first place he investigated were the holding cells. S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't have a jail, per se, but they did have a few high-containment holding cells. Most of the inmates were either dead or gone. There was no one alive here. Hydra had made sure that the Triskelion was no longer a base of operations.

It was a tomb.

But as Peter inspected, he found the solitary block to be devoid of anything, dead or otherwise. No sign of Clint anywhere.

Maybe he made it out. If anyone could, it would be him.

A small feeling of hope began to grow in his mind. He spent another half hour searching, but it became apparent that he would find nothing here.

And then he recalled the final message he had received on his com, the one from Director Fury. His breath quickened, and he looked up, shooting a web, quickly traversing the broken floors to get to the top of the building, to where Fury's office was.

Peter arrived there, amongst dust and rubble. He coughed, having lost his mask in the madness before, and thus having no protecting against the pollutants. But as he stepped forward, his worst fears were confirmed.

Nick Fury was lying on the ground, spread-eagled. A bullet was lodged in his skull, blood trickling down between his still-open eyes. A look of surprise was on his face, his mouth slightly ajar.

Peter felt hollow, numb. Here lay the man who had irrevocably changed his life six years ago. Here was the man who had trained him to be a remorseless assassin, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent of the highest order. Here was the man who had trained his mother and father.

Fury hadn't been bad to him. He had often acted as a father figure to Peter, even though he had always resented him for taking him away from his home.

He wouldn't have had a home if it weren't for Fury. He would never have met Clint, Bucky, Natasha.

"You know," Peter said out loud, sinking to his knees, the hollow feeling growing larger. "You know, I've loved her ever since I saw her. At least, I think I have. I'm not sure now. Clint has been like a brother to me, and Bucky… well, we all tolerated him. But Natasha? Funny… I don't even know if she's still alive right now. And right now, I'm not sure I even care."

He sniffed, his sinuses acting up from the dust in the air. His left side ached with pain, and he rubbed it unconsciously.

"You see, the entire world I've lived in, the entire world you created… it's gone. How do you feel about that, Director? Huh?" He brought his face up close to the corpse's own, the feeling of hollowness changing to sudden rage. "HOW'S IT FEEL?! You took everything from me! You probably engineered my feelings for Natasha! WELL, IT'S GONE NOW! HOW DOES IT FEEL!?"

Peter sat back, his chest heaving, his eyes surprisingly dry. The rage was disappearing now, giving way to weariness. He reached up to his shoulder, grabbing the patch that bore the S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem, and ripped it off. He stood up, dropping it on Fury's chest.

"I wonder if it feels like this," he said softly.

Suddenly, his spider-sense went off. He spun around, drawing a pistol with lightning speed, pointing it directly in the face of the person who was pointing a magnum in his face.

"Emotion makes you sloppy," said the woman before him. He recognized her, and grinned without mirth.

"You would know," he responded. They both lowered their weapons at the same time, and Peter looked at the woman with the pure silver hair, clad in a black jumpsuit.

Silver Sable, the most effective mercenary out of Eastern Europe. Born in Russia, she had witnessed the brutal murders of her mother and father at a young age. Afterward, she had learned that her father was a hired gun who had incurred the wrath of a big-time warlord. Determined to avenge her family, Sable had agreed to Anton Romanov's injecting her with S3. She was one of the few people who had suffered no negative side-effects, the only obvious one being that it changed her hair to pure, bright silver.

Two years ago, Peter had met Silver on a mission in Africa. They had been ostensibly on opposite sides, but they had been attracted to each other, and had formed a close friendship. He hadn't heard from her afterwards, but knew she was still alive.

He was also one of the few people in the world who knew her real name.

"Svetlana Sablinova," he said, holstering his pistol. "What the hell are you doing in New York?"

"Oh, nice," she said, walking around him. "Two years, and all I get is a grilling. I was investigating rumored Hydra cells, and found myself in the midst of a full-out war." She looked down at Fury. "So here lies the great Nick Fury."

"Someone killed him before the building exploded," Peter said, not turning around. "He said 'Parker.' I thought he was comming me, but it doesn't seem to be the case."

"Hmm," Silver muttered, squatting next to the body. "S.H.I.E.L.D.-issue bullet, .50 cal. Has a distinctive burn mark."

"Yeah, I know," Peter said shortly. "Look, not that I'm not pleased to see you, Silver, but I… there's things that…"

"You have no idea what you're going to do next, do you?" Silver stated, standing up straight, looking at him. Her ice-blue eyes carried no hint of coldness, rather sympathetic worry. "Aren't you going to try and locate your comrades?"

"Natasha and Bucky are with Commander Rogers," he said. "They'll be all right. Unless they're all dead. As for Clint… I have no clue where he is, or what happened to him."

Silver frowned. Like Peter was one of the few who knew her name, she was the only person who knew of Peter's desire to be free of S.H.I.E.L.D. It had been she, in fact, who had begun to sow the seeds of doubt in his mind. She hated S.H.I.E.L.D. for its imperialism, and Peter found himself agreeing with her more often than not.

"I don't know," he said, his shoulders slumping. "I would have traded anything to be free of S.H.I.E.L.D. yesterday. Well, I guess I'm free now… but there's a price."

"Piotr, there's always a price," she said, calling him by the name she had given him. "You knew that. And I would have thought you would be ashamed it took a war to break loose from Level Ten's chain."

"I kinda am," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced at her, smirking embarrassedly. She gave him a small smile.

"Normally, you would need time to figure out what you are going to do next," she said, her voice carrying the lilting accent that Natasha also had. "But time is not on your side. You need to decide. I can tell you where Sharon Carter has gathered the remnants of S.H.I.E.L.D. troops. You can join her, or you can look for your allies. Because I can tell you she is not."

"She's consolidating her forces," Peter said grimly. "I always figured she'd love the chance to be in charge. There's no way I'm going to her."

"I didn't think so," Silver said.

"As for my allies," Peter went on, looking out the hole in the wall, gazing out at the city beyond. "If I had left S.H.I.E.L.D. earlier, I wouldn't have called it abandoning them. Now, though…"

"A war makes a difference," Silver finished, nodding. "You just have to decide which side you want to fight for."

"I don't want to fight," Peter said quietly. "I've been fighting these past six years. The only thing I felt good about doing was the small things I'd do in the city. Remember the people we helped save in Charlottestown? Stopping muggings, saving small children from danger, so on?"

"I remember," Silver said, grinning.

"That was what I felt good about doing," Peter went on, turning to face her. "You can bet there's going to be a lot of collateral damage out of this… destruction." He stepped closer.

"I'm going to help people," he said. "I'm going to aid as many folks as I can. And I'll keep an eye out for my friends. But if they want to rebuild S.H.I.E.L.D., or Level Ten… then I won't help them. I can't. You know how I feel."

Silver nodded, folding her arms. She opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment, Peter's spider-sense went off again.

"Down!" he yelled, leaping forward, tackling her to the ground. As they landed, the air around them crackled with energy, and white light emanated around them. Peter and Silver shut their eyes tight. Through their lids, the light shone bright even so.

The energy exploded above them, casting dust in the air, sending rubble and debris flying around them. Peter ducked his head, trying to protect Silver as best he could. He had no idea what was going on, but knew that if they were hit, they would die.

As soon as it came, the energy vanished. Peter and Silver lay there, holding their breath, not daring to move. Finally, Peter ventured to raise himself.

There was no alert on his spider-sense. He looked around, drawing one of his pistols, while Silver mimicked him. They stood up slowly.

"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "What the hell was that?"

But Peter was looking at a large slab of metal that had electrical scorch marks on it. He recognized the marks, and realized the only reason they were both alive.

"We need to get out of here," he said sharply. "Now!"

A few moments later, Peter and Silver were flying through the air, Silver grasping onto Peter's neck as he web-slung.

"Over there," she said loudly in his ear, above the wind that had picked up. She pointed to a window in one of the apartment buildings still standing. He made his way toward it, landing on the wall, forcing it open. Silver clambered into her apartment first, followed by Peter after he made sure no one was watching them.

"Max Dillon," Peter explained as she turned to face him, a questioning look on her face. "One of the prisoners kept in the high-security cells. Electrical powers, the ability to turn himself into a being of pure energy. I was the one who brought him in."

"And now he's loose," Silver said. "He wasn't killed at the attack?"

"Obviously not," Peter answered, drawing the curtains on the window. "He was sweeping the building. 'Cept he wasn't checking if there was anybody alive. He was killing anyone that might be."

"He… then why didn't we die?" Silver asked, confused.

"Because I remember when we fought," Peter replied, not turning around. "Fury's room is insulated against any energy attack. Since his walls were caved in, they wouldn't provide much protection. But his floor? Still intact."

"Wow," Silver breathed. "So you saved my life. Again."

"Well, you've saved mine before, so I think I owed you," he said, turning to face her. "The thing that doesn't make sense though, is why did he sweep the wreckage? Because Dillon isn't the smartest tool in the box."

Silver frowned, considering the problem.

"Maybe he's working for Hydra now?" she theorized. Peter shook his head.

"Hydra killed everyone in the Triskelion," he said. "Personnel, prisoners, everyone. Except for maybe the ones that managed to get out before the place exploded. But he could be taking orders from someone."

"Someone who wants any surviving S.H.I.E.L.D. agents dead," Silver added. "You did well to remove your badge. Aside from the moral aspect."

"Moral aspect?" Peter repeated, laughing. "Says the ruthless mercenary."

"You know I'm very particular about my jobs," she replied slyly, gazing up at him coyly from beneath her long, silver bangs. He chuckled again, but became distracted by the look she was giving him.

"Um, well," he said, clearing his throat. "Uh, gosh, is that the time? I should get going, I need to find someplace to-,"

"You can stay here," Silver said, and she stepped closer, that strange look in her eyes.

"Oh!" Peter said, gulping. He had seen that look before, and knew exactly where this was going. That didn't mean he was still completely comfortable with it. A red flush came over his face. "Um, cool! Thanks. Well, it's getting late, so I'll just, I'll just kip out on your couch, if that's-,"

"You can share the bed," Silver whispered, now extremely close. Peter swallowed. He suddenly became aware of how beautiful she was, her luscious hair cascading around her shoulders, her gorgeous body close to his. It must have been a Russian Super Soldier thing, for the females to gain the attributes of a supermodel. Natasha often liked to flaunt her breasts to get her way. Now Peter realized that Silver was every bit as filled out.

"Um," he stuttered, feeling the heat on his face as her own came closer. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet, Piotr," she breathed, and then she was kissing him, her lips full and firm, her mouth opening to explore his own with her tongue. He felt her body press against his, and he closed his eyes, placing his arms around her, returning the kiss with a passion.

It didn't matter that the world was falling apart.

I may make some peeps mad, but who cares?! I'm having fun!