Chapter Seventeen
✭

Things in New York were not going well.

Peter didn't enjoy going to Avengers Tower — not anymore, at least. But he didn't have much of a choice if he wanted to keep up with the news. Which, honestly, was just getting worse by the day.

As soon as he heard that Mia might be in Europe, Peter so desperately wanted to run off and go help find her. But May would kill him and also figure it out the moment Peter stepped anywhere near an airport, so no chance of getting away with it.

So, the only way Peter could stay involved was to go to the tower and see what's going on. Howie was almost always there, and Vision almost as often (Peter is fairly certain they went to the same high school). The Maximoff twins spent most of their time in the upstate facility, so Peter knew it must be pretty bad if they're at the tower every time he came around.

Like now. The other four were already huddled up around Howie's laptop when Peter came around the workshop. "Hey, guys, what's up —"

"Shh!" all four raised their fingers to their lips, eyes still glued to the screen in front of them. It's only then did Peter hear the tinny voices playing from the small speakers, and he trotted over to listen in. Peeking over Howie's shoulder, Peter found they were watching what looked like security footage — grainy, desaturated, and at a high angle looking down at a group of adults in intense conversation. He recognized most of them.

The Avengers, of course — all of them except for Bruce Banner, who still hasn't reappeared since last year, after defeating ULTRON; and Thor, who seemed to be off-world more often than not recently. Sitting around a long conference table that seemed to be located in another part of Avengers Tower. And, at the other end, Secretary Ross and a posse of men and women in Brooks Brothers suits. Feds.

It took Peter a second to figure out what was going on. "Since when are we spying on highly-confidential negotiations for the Sokovia Accords?"

"Since they started," Howie said.

"Since they started talking about us," Wanda added, with a significant look. "Ross keeps talking about reparations for what happened in Sokovia during ULTRON, as if the last twenty years aren't deserving enough of reparations!"

"This time, he says it's our fault," Pietro scowled, a sort of buzzing energy around him, atoms tensed and ready to go. "When we were just doing what the rest of the world couldn't. Ross never cared about our home until he could use it against us. Reparations are just a front to getting what he really wants."

Peter couldn't claim to know what Sokovia had gone through the past couple decades, but he did think it extremely unfair for the loss of Novigrad to be pinned on two teenagers. "Has he tried talking to you guys directly?"

"Not yet, but Steve says it'll happen soon," Wanda shook her head, leaning back and folding her arms. "He'll want Vision there, too."

Vision hunched his thin shoulders. Peter still couldn't get quite used to the android's human disguise; the overall paleness was still off-putting, combined with Vision's preference for bright clothes. He hardly looked ready to face off the force of nature that was Secretary Ross. "They have been vague, but I'm sure it has much to do with this." He tapped the yellow gem at the center of his forehead, the one detail that ironically seemed the least strange thing about him.

"He wants the Mind Stone?" Peter asked. He didn't see how that was possible. "I mean, if they tried to remove it, wouldn't that —?"

"Destroy my existence?" Vision said, cracking a rare, wry smile. "Yes, I'm sure they're well aware of that. I don't think it bothers them very much."

"It could also be the fact you're made of ninety-nine percent Vibranium," Howie also pointed out. "That's fifty percent of the world's vibranium, outside of Wakanda."

If Peter hadn't known any better, he wouldn't have believed for a second that this kid, who made Peter himself look downright beefy, could contain that much mass. Expensive mass. "So, Ross wants the very powerful Mutants and android, no surprise there. Any other tall orders?"

"Aside from the usual rundown with the Winter Soldier — no updates, by the way — Ross is now aiming his attacks on the Avengers themselves," Howie replied, gesturing to the computer. Steve and Tony sat in front of the group; Steve with an air of chilly calm, and Tony with bristling defensiveness. "Blaming them for ULTRON now. Which I guess is fair. But he's using it to put the Avengers under the purview of the UN."

"Which Ross just so happens to participate in," Wanda said, with a roll of her eyes. "Complete coincidence, I'm sure."

"And, er, how's that going?" Peter said, leaning against the table and folding his arms. Trying so hard to remain cool and calm, not betray his own growing anxieties. "Don't, ah, suppose they mentioned Spider-Man at all, have they?"

Pietro cut him a smirk. "Would you be sad if they didn't?"

"Uh, well, I dunno, a little —" Peter spluttered. On the one hand, if Ross didn't care about him, that meant Peter was being underestimated. A good thing. But still. To be ignored completely felt like a snub. But he couldn't focus on that, there were more important things at play. "Well, anyways, have they gotten anywhere?"

"Hardly," Vision replied, shaking his head. "Ross will only capitulate if they agree to other transgressions of privacy or human rights. They're at a stalemate."

"Ross will be presenting the current version of the Sokovia Accords to the UN conference at the end of the week," Howie added. "If they can't get anything changed, then what Ross is seeking is what the delegates will be voting on."

Peter let out a deep breath of air. That wasn't good. He could only hope that the UN would have some sense and know better than to allow Ross' plans to go through; but the Accords also gave the UN more power, over the Avengers, over all "enhanced" individuals. Peter didn't trust politicians enough not to be blinded by their own greed when power is served to them on a silver platter.

"They say it's going to be a landmark event, whatever that means," Pietro said. "Sokovia will finally have representation. As will Wakanda."

"That's a first for both, isn't it?" Peter asked. The United Nations had been founded in 1945; Wakanda had been isolated long before that, and many previously-soviet nations hadn't been able to join until after the USSR had been disbanded. Getting affirming nods, Peter could only deliberate further. "Maybe it's a good sign. Maybe Ross won't get his win so easily."

He wanted to be hopeful. Peter wanted so badly to believe in the goodness of humanity, that others would see how just cruel Ross' overreach was. The road to hell it would pave. But Peter's hope has been dwindling for a long time now. Ever since Mia vanished.

"Maybe," Wanda said, but her tone was doubtful. "Let's just hope Ross doesn't find what he's looking for, first. It'll only prove that he can execute what he promises in the Accords."

They spoke in euphemism when it came to Mia. Hardly daring to say her name openly, as if it might be a curse, incite unwanted attention. The fact neither Mia nor Bucky had been caught yet may be cause for hope — or just the continual sign that disaster was on the horizon. Just as Steve and his team were out looking, so was Peter on his end. Peter had expected to have received some secret message from Mia by this point, as she once had two years ago after escaping the Crucible. But as far as he could tell, Mia hadn't reached out to him. Not in any way he could perceive.

It crushed him. More than just a disappointment, it wracked Peter with worry. He didn't know if Mia was okay. If her lack of communication was simply because something bad happened, or if she was simply maintaining radio silence. Maybe it was better this way, given the kind of heat she was under. But she had to know that they could help, somehow, right? She had to know Peter wanted her to try. That it wasn't over. They could still fix this.

Peter didn't know how yet. But there had to be something.

"I don't suppose any of you are going?" Peter asked, trying not to make plans about hitching a ride to Europe. He didn't know if Vienna was anywhere close to where Mia was, but he was fairly certain she was no longer in America.

But the four shook their heads. Vision said, "Captain Rogers has suggested we all 'bunker down' in the upstate facility. We'll be safe there, he says, out of the way. I'm inclined to agree, but it's quite… remote."

Peter assumed this did not include him, and wasn't sure how he felt about that. But he understood being remote. Protected, but too far away to do anything. "Are you guys going to?"

"I might," Wanda sighed, earning a look from Pietro. "What? You think I want to be in a densely populated area in case things go wrong? They know where to find us here. Ross doesn't know about the facility upstate. Besides, I've got all my DVDs there."

Pietro just made a sound of discontent. "I don't want to be locked away like some unwanted pet! We could be doing something, right now, looking for— for her! I could cover more ground than any of them, but we must stay here and keep our heads down because of Ross and his men! It feels like cowardice. Since when are the Avengers cowed by men like him, men who they don't even answer to?"

"They're just looking out for you guys," Peter said, wincing slightly. He already knew this argument wasn't going to go over well, he knew Pietro despised being coddled. "If anything goes bad, it's just more ammunition for Ross to use against the Avengers. If he's telling the truth about that secret prison he has to contain people like us, then I get why the Avengers aren't trying to poke the bear right now."

"Just threats!" Pietro looked disgusted, throwing up his hands. "Any prison can be broken out of; so what if Ross makes good on his threat, arrests and imprisons them? Will they simply lie down and accept their fate? Or will they do what is natural, and fight back? The Avengers have always governed themselves, and now they allow themselves to be governed by fear. I will not be that way."

"I don't know if it's that simple —" Peter began, grimacing slightly.

"Well, it should be!" Pietro huffed, pacing away. "The Avengers cannot afford to question themselves now. They'll look weak, lacking conviction. They know what they do is right, and they try their best to do it. That is the spirit, that is the reason why I joined!"

"In this hypothetical situation," Howie began hesitantly, as if afraid to set off Pietro even more. "Where we're imprisoned in this Raft — breaking out will only label us criminals. We'd be constantly on the run. To be Avengers with that on our heads would have us working alone."

"We already work alone!" Pietro pointed out. "We don't rely on the aid of other countries. Is it nice sometimes? Yes! But whether or not we have it won't stop us from doing what we have to. We didn't have anyone's help during ULTRON, remember?"

Peter was about to disagree, as he could recount all the times they'd given and received help from civilians, and the actions of regular Sokovians during the last stretch of the Age of ULTRON had been heavily recorded. But then he realized that's not exactly what Pietro meant — he had meant organized help, military and otherwise. There was no SHIELD anymore to fill that gap between nation and Avenger. No buffer to protect them from people like Ross.

"We've lived our entire lives under eternal persecution," Wanda pointed out, her expression even and unshakable. She merely shrugged. "How would this scenario be any different? We will persevere, as we always have."

"While I do not echo Pietro's fervor, I agree with his argument," Vision added, looking to Peter. "The Avengers have never required permission before. Their effectiveness is directly tied to their lack of ulterior motives. They neither work for money, nor country, or faction; but simply a philosophy, to protect and uphold the safety and wellbeing of all people, regardless of who they are or where they are from. And that is what makes men like Ross fear the Avengers. You cannot control an idea."

"The Avengers aren't soldiers," Howie concluded. "We're not mercenaries. We don't do anyone's bidding. Mia knew that."

Howie froze, catching himself too late. But no one said anything for a long moment. But him saying that reminded Peter of something.

"Yeah, she did, and you know what she's doing right now?" Peter asked them, and got blank stares in return. "She's keeping her head down. Staying out of sight. Doing everything you guys don't want to do. I'm sure she doesn't want to do it, either, but she's probably scared out of her mind right now. That doesn't make her a coward. She's just trying to survive. Hiding doesn't make us weak. It just makes us smart. We have to bide our time, okay? If she needs something, she knows how to reach us. If Ross somehow wins, and the Avengers are arrested, then it's just going to be us that's left."

A chill went down Peter's back. That sounded a lot scarier now that he's said it aloud. But it was a potential reality he'd been coming to terms with for the past month, ever since Mia disappeared.

"Us?" Howie repeated, his face going pale. "We're just kids!"

"I know," Peter said, trying to quiet his own racing thoughts. He had to stay focused, remember what his guidance counselor said. Gotta be goal-oriented. "But we're no use to Mia if we're already locked up by Ross, right? What do you think she'd do if she were here right now?"

Everyone exchanged looks, and Pietro looked supremely annoyed to know the answer. "She'd want us not to get involved unless we absolutely had to."

"You'd tell her the same thing, too," Wanda pointed out, barely fighting a smile at Pietro's deepening scowl. But he didn't deny it.

"That means we should be ready, however," Vision pointed out. "In case the situation does require our intervention."

Howie perked up at this. "Does this mean I can use my suit?"

Peter, who had yet to see Howie's suit in action, was scared to say yes. He went for a more diplomatic answer. "Er, keep it on standby?"

"Molto bene! About damn time." And with that, Howie hopped off his stool and took off into the workshop, going through drawers and cabinets. He returned with a stack of red and blue cloth, surprising Peter when Howie dropped it into his lap. "I've been saving this for you. If we're going to be waiting on high alert, then we should all have suits."

"But I already have a suit!"

"Yeah," Howie said, raising his eyebrows. "But not a good one."

Peter gaped, offended. "I worked hard on that suit! Do you know how long it took me to find those goggles?"

"Goggled made of autorefracting, photosensitive lens?" Howie asked, patting the stack, on top of which laid thin sheets of translucent plastic material. "And I'm sure your sweatpants are made of highly durable fabric that can stretch without losing elasticity over time, and provide both moisture-wicking and wind-chill-resistant properties, si?"

Peter stared at Howie for a long moment, before his hands finally settled on the stack of fabric and pulled it to his chest. "... No. It's not gonna break my aunt's sewing machine, will it?"

Howie grinned, pleased. "Just remember to cut along the seams."

Just then, a voice spoke through the PA system. "Vision, Wanda, Pietro, report upstairs in five, new mission brief. Howie, stay here."

Howie groaned, throwing his head back, as the other three frowned at each other and got up. Peter glanced over at the computer screen and was surprised to find that conference room empty, the meeting having apparently finished a few minutes ago. What had happened? Somehow, Peter didn't think the Avengers made a miraculous breakthrough with the Sokovia Accords in the last five minutes. Vienna was gonna be a bitch.

Still, a mission, now? Peter was intrigued, "You think it's for —" Peter scrambled for a nickname "— our jolly blonde giant?"

Wanda fought a smile but shook her head, "I don't know, but it does not feel like it. She is not the only one we are looking for. It could be the Winter Soldier."

"Or HYDRA," Pietro pointed out, as he pulled on his jacket. "There are still pockets of them around that we have been picking off. Probably will be for years."

"Either way, doesn't matter, because I can't help," Howie pouted, slumping back onto his stool and pulling his computer closer. "They won't even let me be the guy in the chair. Dad gets to build suits again but I'm not allowed to fly until I get my driver's license. Or PhD. Whichever comes first."

"Don't worry, buddy, I'm sure you'll get there someday," Peter said, giving Howie a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"If it is her," Wanda added, pausing as they headed out the door. "We'll let you know right away. I promise."

~o~

It hadn't been Mia. If it was, Peter would've expected his phone to have blown up by now. But it's been radio silence and at this point, Peter doesn't expect that to change.

Aunt May was waiting for him at home. What time she didn't spend at work, she was trying to find any trace of Mia on the Internet. Scanning news stories, both foreign and domestic, for any sign that might indicate where Mia would be. It was better than posting up missing child posters, or trying to work with the police. The feds wanted Mia under arrest, and after the FBI's failure to take Mia's disappearances seriously, May had taken it upon herself to do the brunt of the work, and not confiding outside anyone in their close social circle.

Peter's only upside was that there was no school in summer, only to hope May didn't notice his overly stuffed backpack coming home that evening. Maybe someday he'll tell her the truth about Spider-Man, but right now Peter needed as much freedom and leeway as possible. Aunt May was worried enough as it was without him adding to the mix.

Thankfully, she didn't seem to pay any notice, glancing only once from her computer screen, set up in the kitchen with both a cup of coffee and a glass of wine. "Hey, Peter, how'd it go today? Any news?"

She sounded so casual, as if Peter couldn't detect the hope in her eyes. But he just shook his head, and watched her shoulders slump. "The twins promised they'd let me know if they hear anything, but… well, nothing yet."

"No worries, if anyone could find her, maybe they will," Aunt May smiled, but it was tired, frayed at the edges. She rested her chin on her hand and patted the seat next to her. Peter panicked for a moment, before dropping his backpack against the other side of the island, hoping it didn't look too suspicious, before sitting down next to her. "How've you been doing, Pete?"

"Oh, you know," Peter flushed, shrugging his shoulders and shifting side to side. He always made fun of Mia for being a terrible liar, but right now he's sure he'd fail a polygraph test before the first question. "Same old, same old."

"Yeah?" Aunt May furrowed her brows, concerned. She ruffled his hair, just like she used to when he was a kid. "I know this is hard on you. I shouldn't have to be asking you these things, I know. I'm the one who should be telling you things, not the other way around. This summer was supposed to be fun! You and Mia were supposed to be… supposed to be…"

Her words trailed off, gaze distant, lost in thought and grief. Peter tried to smile, but it was hard. He didn't know what to say. He could reassure her, he supposed. Lie through his teeth. "I'm fine, May, I promise. Just, you know, trying to keep my eye out. Always checking my emails. My phone. I don't think she's reached out to us."

"Well, she hasn't appeared on the cover of Time Magazine again," Aunt May sighed, pinching her brow beneath her glasses. "So, I assume she must be avoiding international incidents and open warfare. Any particular country you think she'd go to?"

"Well, she always wanted to see Paris," Peter said, thinking back to some childhood conversations. Although maybe that had been Aunt Hedy's dream, he couldn't be sure. "Maybe Atlantic City? Mia always thought it was a made-up place, like Metropolis, until last year…"

That gets a coarse laugh out of Aunt May, only now both her hands were covering her face, and her laugh sounded close to tears. "If she's in Atlantic City, it'll be a cold day in hell."

A vice closed around Peter's throat, and he regretted saying anything at all. So, he just leaned into Aunt May for a hug and there they sat for a very long time. Waiting and crying, watching the door, as if at any moment Mia might come walking in, and everything would be okay again.

~o~

Peter couldn't sleep that night, or the next. He'd taken a small break as Spider-Man, partly out of worry for Aunt May, and partly to check out the materials Howie had given him. Peter could never afford stuff like this, much less manufacture it himself.

It was never something he'd ask for, not something Peter thought he was entitled to. Not something he expected from a friend, a quasi-team that felt a little more like Mia's than his own. But that was okay, too. Peter was grateful, and he preferred making his own stuff, rather than relying on a fancy printer machine to make one for him.

Just him and Aunt May's sewing machine. He waited until she had fallen asleep until he began the work, hoping not to wake her with the noise. He moved it to his room for extra solitude, with his computer on and headphones in, watching live news feeds. At this point, he had already seen the fallout of Lagos. Peter hadn't been there, didn't know how much he should trust the reporting on the scene.

Crossbones had been there. And as bad as that was, Peter had been weirdly hopeful. Maybe that meant Mia was nearby, hiding, because he was looking for her. But there was no mention, he got no messages. Crossbones just wanted to blow something up again, and this time he succeeded.

From what Peter could understand from the various broadcasts, there had been a bomb in a high-rise. One the Avengers managed to track down at the last second, but couldn't prevent from detonating, couldn't disable it in time — the Scarlet Witch tried to contain it within some kind of magical shield. But while she kept it from exploding upwards, she had failed to consider the floor beneath, and how the rest of the blast had been pushed downwards. There had been casualties — not as many as there could have been, but even one was too many. Crossbones was apparently caught in the explosion, rather die than be caught, but his body had yet to be recovered. Possibly obliterated, given the high level of explosives used.

The country was in an uproar, the UN appalled. Peter knew this was only going to make the Sokovia Accords all the harder to prevent — he watched the UN conference on tenterhooks, trying not to stab himself with the sewing needle as he went along.

On his screen, the King of Wakanda was making a speech. It was the first time anyone had seen him in decades, the man and his people so reclusive. The footage had even caught a glimpse of his personal guard, a group of austere women with spears rather than firearms. Spears of vibranium, if the rumors were true.

It was midmorning in Vienna, late at night for New York. Peter was just pinning in the lenses to his mask when the feed suddenly cut out.

"What?" Peter paused to scowl at the screen. He hadn't been paying attention, hadn't been looking. There had been a flash of light, a crackle of pixels, and then the video went black. All sound went out, after an ear-splitting screech. The live commenting section exploded, but at least it told Peter it wasn't just his Internet connection. Something had happened.

It was one long, anxious minute before the feed restarted, but now from someplace new entirely. Before, the cameras had been inside the UN conference room, focused on the King of Wakanda with a wall of windows behind him. Now it was outside — focused on a building swallowed by smoke and fire.

No, not just any building.

Peter felt his heart drop as words started scrolling at the bottom of the screen, right before the sound kicked back in again.

UN CONFERENCE ATTACKED BY BOMB. SUSPECT UNKNOWN. TWENTY WOUNDED, TWELVE DEAD AND COUNTING. COUNTRY OF AUSTRIA ANNOUNCES STATE OF EMERGENCY.

Peter felt like he'd just been punched in the chest, knocking all the air out of him. Holy shit. Holy shit. This was real, this was happening. Heart pounding, Peter scrambled for his phone. He had to text, no, call, Howie. He had been there, right? Didn't Tony take him to Vienna? And Vision, the twins, were they still in New York?

Peter didn't know — all he knew was that everything had changed. Their plans, their problems, their dreams.

All wiped away in a single moment.

As his phone rang, Peter's eyes flew back to the screen, surprised when the anchor started displaying new footage. Grainy security video, the perpetrator?

"That's fast," Peter muttered under his breath.

The security footage was grainy, only recently captured and presented. But there was no mistaking the man captured, a high-angle camera looking down on a large figure with dark hair, looking surreptitiously over his shoulder, just hours before the conference took place.

On the other end, the line picked up, and Howie's voice crackled through. "H— hello…?"

But Peter had forgotten he was calling anyone. Forgotten why he had called. That was before Peter realized — he recognized that man.

Bucky Barnes. Mia's dad. Uncle Buck.

The Winter Soldier.