The shrill whine from the door kicked up a notch; Frank bore down on the barrel of the shotgun to discourage anything heroic and glanced over. The strip around the frame had turned from a faint green to a faint amber.
The pitch rose; the amber deepened towards red.
The bug squirmed. "You gotta let me- please. I don't want to-"
"Stay down," Frank ordered.
It was a shaped charge; they were far enough away the blast wouldn't reach them, and there was a ground-welded shelf in the way too. Just the same, he turned his back and rounded his shoulders, protecting his head: fancy new tech he hadn't used before, and didn't entirely trust.
The door bowed under another blow, this one directly over the handle.
-o o-
Jessica staggered back, staring at the door in frustrated disbelief. "What the hell is this sealed with?"
"Can you hear that?" Colleen dropped a hand to the hilt of her katana and looked back down the long, dark maintenance tunnel that, from the dust, hadn't seen traffic since the eighties. That they'd found the entrance, even with Danny back-seat chi-whispering, had been a minor miracle. "Something - it sounds like an alarm?"
Jessica considered the door. It had begun to cast an orange light around the frame.
Colleen took a measured step back. "Run?"
"Run."
-o o-
Amber became red; the alarm peaked.
The mask's eyes narrowed.
Frank tensed to move, but a red and blue blur later and the shotgun was flying from his hands. His fingers fractured under the force, he could feel the joints separating with barely any resistance. The shotgun's stock cracked against the old brick wall beside them, falling away from the receiver in halves. There was barely time to process the hit before a rabbit punch sent him flying; he was in the air before he registered the sharp pain in his ribs, cracked despite the body armor.
He felt it when he hit the wall; he felt nothing when he hit the floor.
-o o-
Jessica grabbed Colleen and, ignoring the shocked yelp in her ear, crouched to jump. She could make it to the end of the tunnel, she figured. Maybe even without sending them both head-first into the concrete wall.
Even odds. Maybe three to one.
The sound of tearing metal derailed the plan. She watched as the door - frame and all - buckled inwards, disappearing into the room with the speed of an implosion. A second later there was a crashing impact, but from a distance, as though the door had been thrown a long way. The muted explosion that followed was almost an afterthought.
With a sudden rush of motion from the darkness within, she became part of a tumbling ball, consisting of at least three other people. Which was about three more people than she was comfortable with. They landed with a series of thuds twenty, thirty feet down the tunnel.
She understood when the rumble of a concussion wave hit, crumbling what was left of the door frame and bringing a shower of concrete down from the ceiling. But nothing more, she assured herself after a few tense seconds.
This wasn't Midland Circle, no one was about to be buried.
Under her left elbow, someone - Spider-man - was whispering, "stay up, stay up, stay up," in a mantra she could fully get behind.
See, Danny? Just had to know the right words.
Smoke billowed into the maintenance tunnel; everything else settled.
She began to disentangle herself from Spider-man, Colleen, and an unconscious man covered in dust, with a white skull on his tac vest. Frank Castle. The Punisher.
Christ. "You okay, kid?"
"Yeah." Spider-man patted himself down, as if not quite able to believe it either. "Yeah, I'm good. And not a kid."
He swayed a little as he climbed to his feet, clipping something around each wrist, but he stayed up. Colleen was already standing, hand once more on the sword, guarding their backs. Torn between mentioning that Colleen had nothing to prove, and honestly not really caring, Jessica reached for Castle.
Spider-man moved forward, almost protectively. "Just. Okay, but be careful. He's probably got some- a lot of cracked ribs. And his hand's not good either."
"He get caught in his own bomb?" Jessica grinned, because karma was another thing she could get behind. Maybe she and Danny would bond after all.
"No." Spider-man's reply was short, and guilty sounding, and God save her from hero complexes.
Colleen stepped forward, eyeing Spider-man cautiously. "We need to get out of here. There's no way no one dialed nine-one-one."
And their response time was pretty good these days, for some reason. Jessica nodded. "Go get the truck running, we'll catch up."
Colleen sprinted ahead; Jessica bent to pick Castle up. He was a little taller and anything other than a fireman's lift would be really awkward, but unfortunately there were those ribs to consider - apparently - so she settled for bridal style. Easiest on any broken parts, plus there was always the chance someone would take a picture. She started walking.
Spider-man padded along at her side, head tilted as if he was listening. Or in shock, maybe. Whatever had been going on in that workshop, it couldn't have been fun.
No way she was starting that conversation, though. Besides, any moment now the kid would start wondering how - or why - she'd even found him; she decided to skip ahead.
"So the first agents were probably Homeland," she opened. "The ones who showed up after them were definitely S.H.I.E.L.D. And," she added, "everyone still thinks Spider-man kidnapped the Ellie, so you probably shouldn't show your cute little mask for a while, Pard."
"Yeah, that's probably- no. I'm not." His head snapped around, eyes flexed wide. "Uh. Whoever you think I am? Because Pard's a really stupid name."
"Smooth. I went through this with another costume maybe a week ago, it's boring. How about we get to the part where I make it really clear I could give a crap? I've got a lawyer I trust going through the fine print on the Accords. Ellie's as good as got representation with the best law firm in New York. They'll fight it out in the public eye, she'll be safe while people are watching.
"And S.H.I.E.L.D. want to be her friend. They're monitoring the shelter, in case you show up there to talk. Trouble is, everyone in New York over the age of five knows that, because their cryptic messages are for shit. So don't. I'll talk to them for you, figure out if it's safe for Ellie to go with them. For what it's worth, the guy I spoke to seemed pretty sincere."
The masked head bobbed. "Okay."
"Okay? No questions?" She frowned. "You should have questions, kid. Like, what happens to you?"
"I told you, I'll figure it out." He shrugged. "Do what it takes to help Ellie. I'll pick up the bill, I swear. And. Uh. Please-don't-tell-anyone-who-I-am."
"Which part of my not caring even a little bit wasn't clear?" She looked down at the still-unconscious load in her arms. "What do you want to do with Most Wanted?"
"Maybe he knows something."
"He won't be feeling too chatty when he wakes up." Her cell vibrated in her jeans pocket; they were close to the surface. She tried juggling the uncooperative dead weight in her arms, but it wasn't working out. Castle was summarily lifted away; he looked even more ridiculous in Spider-man's arms than he had in hers.
She checked the screen.
Luke.
She snapped a photo before she answered, and ignored the mask's outraged expression - freaky shit, there, Stark - as she brought the cell to her ear. "Busy. What?"
"I found the kid, I'm not the only one." Luke sounded concerned, which was never a great sign. "We've got a situation. Tell me you found Spider-man."
"I found Spider-man."
"Tell him to call-" A brief pause. "Tell him to call Pepper."
"I have five-hundred and eighteen missed messages," Spider-man said, as they finally made it out of the tunnel, and headed towards the slightly stolen, mostly borrowed, delivery truck. His voice tightened with repressed horror. "Four hundred and ninety-six are from my aunt."
-o o-
Peter hunched down in the passenger seat of the truck's cab, trying to make himself as small as possible. There had been a debate over how smart it was to have him so visible, but the alternative was riding in the back with the Punisher and when Ms Jones had called it, he hadn't argued too hard. Even if he probably should have.
Karen chimed: connection successful.
"Hey, Ms Potts."
"Please, call me Pepper."
She sounded a little distracted, he thought, but not mad. Better than he'd been hoping for. "Sure thing, Ms Potts. Uhm. Are Ellie and Ned okay?"
"They're fine."
No, not distracted. A little out of breath? "And are you okay? You sound-"
"Are you okay?" She interrupted quickly. "Your aunt is very worried. We've all been very worried ."
He hesitated. "If you're busy, I can call back."
"No! No. It's fine. Are you hurt? Where are you?"
"I don't know." Peter looked over at Colleen. "Where are we?"
"Parsons-Archer. More or less."
"Still in Queens," he relayed. "In a delivery truck, I think. We'll be there really soon."
"Good. Okay. Great. See you soon. Call your aunt. Right now."
-o o-
Pepper let the visor on her helmet lift, but kept her stunner aimed steadily at the man in the doorway.
He stood with his hands in his pockets and zero apparent concern. "He good?"
She nodded. "He says he is. And your friends?"
"They're good too. So I guess we hang here until they show."
Pepper lowered her arm with a nod, tentatively hopeful.
Ned, frozen in the kitchen doorway, Ellie peeking out from behind him, wordlessly offered up a packet of cookies.
-o o-
Peter took a breath.
He'd fought the Vulture, and saved the academic decathlon team, and he'd even almost put a ferry back together. Plus, endless muggers. Bank robbers!
So he could do this. He had this. Totally.
Karen chimed; connection successful.
"Hey, Aunt May."
A sharp intake of breath, then. "You in one piece?"
"Yeah." He looked guiltily at the tear in his suit, and the blood crusting the edges. "I'm fine."
"You safe right now?"
"Totally safe," he said, ignoring the presence of the crazed murderer in the back.
"That woman - Pepper, is she there?"
"No. Almost." He picked at the edge of his web shooter, peeling away a little spilled formula. "I'm with a couple really nice people. They helped me out."
Out the corner of his eye, he saw Colleen smile.
May's unbelievably calm, even tone sharpened shrilly. "What did you need helping out of?"
"Nothing!"
Her voice cracked. "Peter-"
No-no-no-no . "May, I'm fine. I'm okay. Don't cry!"
"I'm not crying!" She choked, not entirely convincingly.
"Are you sure? Because it sounds like-" He looked helplessly at Colleen. She shook her head.
Another, slower, intake of breath. "When will you be home?"
"I don't know. Soon. Really soon."
"Okay. Okay. I love you. Stay safe."
"I will. Just wondering, though." He finally freed the bit of dried web and flicked it away. "How grounded…?"
"Forever," she said crisply, any trace of tears gone. "Mister, you are grounded forever. I'm creating a trust so I can hire people to ground you after I die. Then they will ground your children, and your children's children, until the end of time."
"Yeah, I thought so," he confirmed, glumly. "Love you, May."
-o o-
Frank never moved when he woke - never knew where he'd be. Better to keep still. Stay quiet. He reviewed his memory. Assessed his state. Ribs cracked, he was sure of that. Couple fingers busted, maybe. He hoped he hadn't been out long or they'd be a pain in the ass to reset.
Headache. Discounted.
Fit for purpose.
Moving. Truck. The one he'd boosted earlier, from the smell of paint. He opened his eyes a sliver.
"I know you're awake." Woman's voice, she sounded almost bored. "And you've probably figured out you're a little banged up. If you want to keep the rest of your bones in one piece, I suggest you play nice."
He craned his head up, then slowly raised his hands; he hadn't been restrained. He pulled himself into a sitting position, and didn't bother to reply. He pulled the damaged hand up and critically regarded the two crooked fingers. Dislocated, not broken. He snapped them back in.
The woman watched, the lines of her expression hard. "So, hey, congrats, asshole . You abducted and tortured a minor. That's got to feel pretty great."
"Bug's fine," he muttered. And, it turned out, probably could have taken Frank out any time he'd wanted during that little game of hide and go seek. Frank wondered why he hadn't, but not for long. Didn't matter now. "Jessica Jones. Yeah, that's you. Hell's Kitchen. Red here too?" He jerked his chin towards the cab. "Choir practice in session?"
"Red?" She frowned.
"Sure. Horns. Talks like a priest." He smirked. "Argues like lawyer."
"Right. Yeah, he's incredibly dead," she said flatly. "Midland Circle."
He had no idea what to do with that information. No point denying it, more than a little disingenuous to mourn, and didn't seem right to be shocked. No one would be shocked. Besides, Jones didn't look too cut up about it. Except. Yeah, she cared. Didn't want to, maybe. But she did.
And didn't that put them both in the same sinking boat.
"I'm sorry for your loss," he managed, polite words rusty from disuse. She shook her head; she didn't believe him. Like that mattered, he'd said his piece. "Where's the girl?"
"Spider-man said you'd ask that. Probably a lot. She's safe."
And that about confirmed what he already suspected. "Jesus, he really doesn't know."
"Know what?" She waited a beat, then scowled. "Hey, tough guy. You any use to anyone?"
He turned his head away.
Her boot kicked out against his, just shy of painful. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
There might be another bit up later tonight, more likely tomorrow. We're hitting the point where I can probably tie this up neatly in another couple of chapters or so, or keep on keeping on pretty much indefinitely with the bigger plot that's playing in the background. Or, close this fic off and make a series. Decisions!