Thursday - April 21, 2016

Parker Residence - Sub-Level Labs

07:27 a.m.

"This is starting to get out of hand, Rich." Max slammed the newspaper down onto the table, the loud slap that resonated through the subway car making them all tense slightly. "I know you said to keep our mouths shut about this, but I don't think I can anymore," he muttered, folding his arms over his chest as he glared down at the ground.

All of the Cons currently sat strewn about their conference center, the Subway car down in the labs. Max sat on the corner of Richard's desk while Sandra and Flint sat on the seats across from him, Curt resting atop one of the bar stools.

Sandra propped one leg up and rested her elbow on the side of the seat. "This is going too far."

"He's getting too involved. You can even see it in the way he talks to us nowadays," Max continued. "The way he acts. Stark's rubbing off on him, chipping away at everything we've done," he snarled, eyes glinting a shade of blue before dimming back down to their usual brown.

The sound of a crinkling bag made them all turn towards Flint, who was currently digging around in the remains of a bag of chips, face scrunched in concentration. Sandra narrowed her eyes at him and curled her lip as she whipped her hand out and slapped the bag to the floor, Flint straightening up in surprise. "Are the answers we're looking for at the bottom of that bag, Marko?" she snapped.

"The answers I'm looking for, anyway," the man muttered as he stooped down and scooped the bag up with a pointed look thrown at the woman. He tilted his head back and allowed the last few crumbs to dribble into his mouth, crumpling up the bag before tossing it over his shoulder. "Besides," he said, voice muffled from the mouthful of food. "What's the big deal? So the kid's hanging out with Stark? Isn't that what we wanted in the first place?"

Max growled from his seat. "The big deal, you fat fuck, is that that billionaire asshole is messing up our work." He scoffed and rose up from the desk. "I knew this was a bad idea from day one," he said, beginning to pace up and down the aisle while Curt and Flint rolled their eyes. "For ten years, we've been successful with Peter. The training, the lessons, the experiments. Everything clean-cut, quiet and perfect. And the little brat never uttered a word of rebellion. Not one. He was smarter. He knew better."

He curled his hands into fists and spat out the next few words. "And then Stark waltzes right in here flashing big bucks and dripping narcissism all over the place, infecting the little rat with his charm. Peter's weak. He's falling right into that son of a bitch's hands."

The sounds of a crackling screen made them all turn their heads up to the screen above their heads, resembling a small flat-screen propped up into the top corner of the car. Across the bottom of the pitch black screen were the words AUDIO ONLY.

"Well, the big question here is...why did you let him go off with Stark in the first place?"

The voice that came through was airy and young.

"Fuck off you little tart," Sandra growled at the screen. "Drop the condescension. You know why."

The screen crackled once again. "Remind me." The voice came through, sparking with sarcasm.

The older woman curled her lip, continuing to glare up at the screen as if her gaze could pierce through to the person on the other end. "We want him to know what Stark knows. We want him in a position we can use if and when the times comes for it." Sandra flicked her hand through the air. " He's literally crawling through the mainframes of Stark Industries. And that means we can tear it down with a snap of our fingers."

The woman suddenly stopped and pointed to the newspaper sitting on the desk. "But this...this is not that. This has bad news written all over it."

"Literally," Curt chided with a smirk.

Sandra narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm serious. And Max is right. That prick is rubbing off on Peter. You can see it just in the way he carries himself nowadays."

Flint couldn't suppress a scoff as a small smirk fell onto his face. "Come on. Aren't you guys exaggerating a little bit here?"

The older woman glowered at him before whirling on her heels and turning towards the dark-skinned man. "Max, how many years has it been since Peter talked back to you? Six? Seven?" She didn't wait for him to respond. "Well, he broke that record after spending one week with that asshole. One. Imagine what'll happen if we let that slide, if we let that go any longer. Imagine what he'll start to think."

Max grit his teeth together. "He'll start to think he can get away with it."

"I don't know about you guys," Sandra started again, "but I spent a good few years of my fucking life making sure that little brat was nothing but putty in our hands and I'm not about to let that smug rich asshole mess with it!"

For a moment the car was quiet, the gravity of the woman's words hanging heavy in the air, seeming to take all of their voices with it. The tension settling over the group had scents of rage, annoyance and irritation permeating all throughout as they each took a moment to contemplate their next move.

"Sounds to me like you're a little jealous."

The Cons all turned their heads to stare up at the TV screen above them, Sandra's eyes narrowing into icy chips as she gnashed her teeth together. "What did you say?" she practically hissed.

"What? You...you don't see it? Oh, this is great!" The voice chirped, seemingly giddy with amusement. "Think about it. You guys spend years breaking him down into what he is today, crushing and molding him into your perfect little puppet, dancing around as you jolt and jab at his strings, tightening them, tubing them. And then Stark comes into the picture and in - what, about two months - basically undos nearly all of your work, frays all your strings. Either Stark's a lot smarter than you guys first thought, or-"

"Bite your tongue, whore!" Sandra screeches, fingertips crackling with violet energy as her eyes take on the same ethereal hue.

The voice didn't seem all that perturbed with the comment, simply chuckling. "I'm just saying...the proof's in the pawn."

Curt stifled a yawn as he glanced lazily between the group. "So what are we supposed to do about it? Take him out of there? I thought we needed him on the inside."

"We do."

They all turned their heads towards Richard's desk, where his computer monitor had been turned to stare out at them. The screen showed the interior of a private jet, Richard himself sitting comfortable in one of the chairs. He'd been quiet for the majority of the video call, simply content to hear his allies thoughts on the matter.

"Peter is a valuable piece to this little puzzle of ours. If not, I would have killed him years ago," he murmured with a flick of his wrist. "So if he's valuable enough to keep alive, then I don't plan on losing this tool so soon." He narrowed his eyes. "You all know just how much I hate to lose."

The others all averted their gazes ever so slightly as their postures became just a bit more rigid.

"Sir?" The TV crackled overhead, the voice sounding much more eager than before. "Do you need me to come in early? I...I could help you."

The man shook his head. "No. No, you have your orders. Now you stick to them, you understand me? Stay on schedule. You'll come into play later."

"But I-" They didn't get to hear any more as Richard motioned something with his hand, Max pressing a button on the remote by his side, the audio quickly cutting out as the TV shut off. As he set the remote down again, Max turned towards the monitor. "So what do we do, man? We can't stop him from seeing Stark. The whole point of this was for Peter to get Stark to trust him."

"Obviously that worked." Flint remarked to which Sandra folded her arms and added, "Yeah, a little too well. Now the real problem is making sure Peter remembers the Rules, especially number one."

Richard folded his hands on his lap, sitting in silence for a moment as his eyes narrowed in thought. After a second, a sigh passed through his lips and he leaned back in his chair. "Peter's known who he can and who he can't trust for quite some time now. Stark has been messing with that."

He pressed his hands into the armrests of the seat and leaned forward. "So here's our situation. We have a dog who's forgetting its lessons and disobeying once again." He righted himself and straightened out his suit. "Now, we're not going to kill the dog, obviously. Now when we've spent so much time on it."

A smirk worked its way onto his face. "No...I think there's a better option."

One by one, large smiles began to spread on the faces of the Cons, each of them letting out different chuckles as the man's words began to seep in, the underlying tones hitting deep.

"Do nothing for now. I should be on the ground in a couple of hours. I'll deal with it then."

Flint scrunched his face. "Uh...we get to help, right?"

"He'll need all of us for this little lesson," Richard announced, to the pleasure of the Cons. "His leash has been a little too lax for too long now. I think it's time we tighten it."

 

---

 

Thursday - April 21, 2016

Stark Tower - Penthouse

06:54 p.m.

"You should have seen the look on his face! It was priceless. I wish I'd taken a picture of it. I would have had it framed," Peter laughed from where he sat on the kitchen counter. Natasha sat on one of the bar stools, arms crossed and legs perched up on the next nearby stool, a content smirk on her face as she listened to the boy rattle off his latest pieces of news. "Not to mention the fact that Ned just about slipped in his own puddle of drool."

The woman let out a small chuckle before propping an elbow on the counter and resting her cheek on the closed fist. "Are all your Decathlon tournaments this exciting? Cause if so, I might just have to see one of these things," she murmured with a wink.

Peter waved a hand dismissively and smiled. "Just the ones Mr. Stark crashes. It was probably one of the greatest moments of my entire life."

Natasha had found the boy doing homework when she'd arrived about an hour or so. After a few moments of awkward greetings and shy smiles, she'd finally coaxed the boy to disclose anything new happening in his life, see if maybe she could figure out any more information on him. Her promise to Tony still hung in the back of her mind, something she wasn't planning to break. Still...it couldn't hurt to be a little informed.

Having expected the same shy-spoke, quiet boy to give her one-word answers, the woman was shockingly surprised when Peter immediately began to rattle off about his so-called Decathlon tournament and everything that had taken place. Natasha was even more surprised to hear about everything Tony had done afterwards. She'd known the billionaire for many years and not once had he ever acted in the same manner that Peter had described to her.

Still, taking note of the boy's excited ramblings and the lack of stuttering, Natasha couldn't help but wonder if maybe this new side of Tony was doing something good. Even though Peter was still far from the most outspoken boy she'd ever met, what with his voice still retaining a quiet-like demeanor even in his most excitable states, the woman still felt a smile tugging at her lips as he happily chatted away, homework seemingly forgotten about for now.

"And then we went for ice cream at McKreamy's and Happy found a shrimp in his Rocky Road. Which is kinda strange considering they don't even serve shrimp...or any type of seafood for that matter but I mean, it could have been a lot worse."

The woman cocked a brow. "Was it at least cooked?"

"...no."

She chuckled, teeth showing as she smiled and shook her head. "Now I really wish I'd been there."

Peter pressed his hands into his knees and leaned forward. "You totally should have. It was literally the best." His feet began to kick out excitedly as he continued to talk. "Even MJ was a little starstruck. I mean, she didn't really show it on her face cause MJ never shows stuff like that on her face but I could totally tell. She does this thing where she curls her finger around a strand of hair and pulls on it whenever she's excited which makes it more frizzy but honestly her hair is always frizzy which is kinda hilarious cause all the other girls at school are always in the backroom fixing themselves up but she always has her hair up and messy. But not the kind of messy that makes you look dirty, just the kind of messy that makes you look like you don't care without making it seem that you want people to know that you don't care. That's a whole other thing and...what?"

The boy trailed off from his ramblings as he caught sight of Natasha giving him a humorous look.

She shook her head and motioned with her hands for him to continue. "Nothing. Nothing. Go on, tell me more about this...MJ," she smirked, a noticeable glint in her eye that Peter was oblivious to as he smiled.

"She's the best. She's the captain of our Decathlon team so she's like, super stupid smart, but not in the whole braggy kind of way, just the kind where she could be sitting in the back of the class minding her own business when all of a sudden someone challenges her or something and she's just like BAM! Knowledge Drop!" Natasha reared back slightly as the boy's hands emphasized his words. "-and then just walk right out without saying another word. She's just so cool and awesome and - okay, you're definitely giving me some weird looks," the boy murmured, trailing off as his eyes darted over to the woman.

"What is it?" He asked before deflating ever so slightly, face scrunching in unease. "I'm boring you, aren't I? I'm sorry, I just-"

"No, no. It's not that." Natasha said quickly before the boy could completely shut down on her. "It's just...funny," she chuckled, only for Peter to tilt his head slightly at her words. "You this passionate about all your friends?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I only have the two so...kinda." His eyes widened again in excitement as he leaned forward once more. "You wanna hear about Ned? He's great too!"

"Don't take that bait."

Both Peter and Natasha turned towards the new voice right as Tony made his appearance, striding into the kitchen wearing black sweatpants and a dark gray T-shirt, holding a Stark pad that he'd occasionally glance at and scroll through as he walked up. Pepper and Rhodey followed up behind him, similar Stark Pads in their hands as well.

Natasha took note of the way Peter's smile grew wider as the man entered, Tony setting the pad down on the counter as he turned towards her. "I've fallen for that trap and was stuck hearing about these friends of his for the next two hours," he muttered, jerking a thumb in Peter's direction.

The boy threw him a shy smile and shrugged a shoulder. "You asked. I answered."

"Yeah, you answered all right."

Natasha rolled her eyes as she turned to Tony. "Peter here was just telling me about how you crashed his Decathlon meet and took him for ice cream at a very questionable establishment."

The man scrunched his face. "Hey, he recommended it. So if anything, the whole shrimp debacle is his doing."

"Please not the shrimp thing again," Pepper muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose as Rhodey shuddered beside her. Natasha shook her head in disbelief. "How'd you even end up at a place like that with a billionaire in the car?"

Tony scoffed at the question, as if such a thing were trivial turned towards Peter. "You wanna take this one?"

The boy glanced over at the man before turning towards the others, who all gave him expectant looks. He cocked his head to the side. "It's Queens. You can't splurge in Queens. You gotta eat at the dumpiest of the dumps and the crappiest of the crap-diners. That's how you find the best hole-in-the-walls. Like Delmar's. That place looks like a garbage heap on the outside, but it's still got the best sandwiches in all of Queens," he twirled his hand in the air for added emphasis. "Sure, you get your stomach pumped a few times along the way, but that's just the Queens experience."

Tony nodded along, leaning up against the counter next to Peter. "Yeah, if you're not puking your guts out and picking rat droppings out of you food, you're not doing it right."

"Exactly."

Rhodey shook his head. "Classy."

"Authentic is what you mean," Tony smirked with a loving pat to the man's shoulders before clapping his hands together and resting them on Peter's shoulders. The boy jumped at the sudden contact but let a small smile fall onto his face nonetheless. "Now, if you all don't mind, I'm going to be stealing my intern away."

Peter glanced over at the man. "Why? Is something wrong. Do you need me to do something?" he asked, pulling away from the man's grip and turning to face him.

Tony waved him off. "Relax, kid. World's not ending. Just follow the leader, would you?" he mused before poking the teen in the ribs. Peter yelped at the touch before rubbing at his side with a miffed grin, Tony conveniently not noticing the look as he walked off. Peter turned back as he hopped off the counter and began to follow the man out of the room, waving back towards the red-headed assassin. "Bye Natasha."

The woman couldn't help but raise a hand back to him. "See you, kid," she murmured before watching him disappear around a corner. The remaining three adults stood in silence for a moment, staring at where the two had left before Natasha turned back to the others and folded her arms over her chest. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but Tony doesn't really willingly leave the tower much anymore, right?"

Pepper and Rhodey exchanged looks before nodding.

"Right. So tell me something. How is it that the thing that finally got him to leave was a Decathlon tournament?"

Pepper let out a small sigh as she walked past the woman and over to the counter, sitting down at one of the stools. She rested an elbow on the marble surface and rubbed her face. "That's what we've been trying to figure out for the past few days." She murmured as Rhodey walked over as well, leaning up against the counter instead.

The man stared at Natasha hard for a moment, eyes searching her face almost as if he were looking for any shades of distrust in her features. He hesitated for a moment, jaw squared as he seemed to ponder whether or not discussing the matter was a good idea with the woman. But after a moment, he relinquished and rubbed the back of his neck. "He's struggling. Like...like really struggling," he finally admitted. "The last time I saw him like this was back in 1991, when..." he trailed off, throwing the woman a small look. "You know."

"Yeah...I know."

"And I'll admit," the man sighed with a shrug of his shoulders. "There's a lot less hookers and drugs involved this time but...he's relapsing again." With that, the man glanced behind him at the nearby trashcan. If they angled their heads just right, the lights from above would catch on the empty glass bottles inside, reflecting small gleams back into their eyes.

Natasha gave a small nod of her head, eyes remaining fixed on the garbage. "Saw that when I came in."

"Hard to miss, really." Pepper murmured. "He at least has the sense not to do it in front of us. But..." she trailed off for a moment, face growing pained as she turned to look at them, fingers twitching on the counter. "...I don't think he sleeps. At least, not enough." All three of them were used to the idea of Tony not getting enough sleep. Even back before everything happened, the man worked off of single-digit hours of rest and remained functioning somehow. So the idea of him seemingly getting less sleep than usual made them all shudder slightly. Pepper continued. "And all that time he spends...not sleeping, he's down in that damn lab, working and...not working." She glanced back over towards the bottles.

The woman ran a hand through her hair nervously. "I'm worried. I'm so worried for him. At this point, all it'll take is one thing. One more thing going wrong and..." she grit her teeth together and curled her fingers around the knobs of her knees. "I don't even want to think about it."

Rhodey placed a hand on her shoulder and rubbed it comfortingly, the woman reaching up her own hand to set atop his. Natasha watched their interaction and let out a sigh of her own, grabbing the seat next to Pepper and sitting down. It wasn't often that something rattled the strawberry blonde. In all the years Natasha had known her, she could honestly say that Pepper Potts was one of the strongest and scariest women she'd ever met. She had to be considering everything that happened around her. So to see her shivering while on the brink of tears rendered Natasha speechless for more than a moment.

"I was so afraid of this," she finally said after giving Pepper a minute to compose herself once more. "Of all of this happening. But...I have to be honest, I was prepared for him to be worse."

"Worse?" Rhodey echoed, shooting the woman a dirty look. "Worse than this?"

Natasha shook her head. "Remember back a few years ago, the Palladium incident in California?"

Judging by the grimaces stretching across their faces, she was willing to bet they did.

"I saw him at his lowest, at his worst. This...this isn't it," she murmured. "I was ready to see it again, expecting it. But...something's holding it back. Something's keeping him...stable. And I think it has to do with that Decathlon meet." She paused and glanced up at the others, noticing they were now staring down at the ground. "Judging from the looks on your faces, you've picked up on it, too."

Pepper remained silent for a moment before letting out a sigh. "I'll admit, Tony acts a lot different around Peter than he does with us. For the longest time, I thought it was just because he was trying to get the kid to warm up to him. But now...I think it's...he's genuinely happy when Peter's here. I can tell. His smile isn't forced, He's relaxed. He's...he's himself again. Heck, Peter wasn't even supposed to be here, today. He's really only 'scheduled' to come in on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, but Tony picked him up for lunch after school again, completely out of the blue!"

Rhodey folded his arms over his chest. "Peter...Peter was never meant to be a crutch, Natasha. Tony only adopted him as an intern to keep an eye on him. To...to..." He seemed to struggle with what he was about to say before abandoning it altogether and diverting onto another track. "Just...Tony's supposed to be helping Peter. I never expected it to be the other way around.

Natasha furrowed her brows. "I don't think it is. Not completely at least." She folded her own arms. "Look, I'm not blind. I know there's something off about Peter. Something you all are probably not supposed to tell me."

"Nor are we going to," Rhodey shot back, throwing her a challenging look.

She held up her hands. "And that's fine. I won't pry. I already promised Tony I wouldn't." The others looked surprised at that. She pretended not to notice.

"But from the little I've gathered offhandedly, Peter's obviously got some problems. Big problems from what I can tell." She noticed the others beginning to look uncomfortable and quickly shifted. "And Tony...well, that speaks for itself." She pointed towards the overflowing trash can. "I won't claim to know what Tony's feeling...or Peter for that matter cause...cause I don't." She pushed herself off of the stool she'd been occupying and faced the others fully.

"But what I do know is that these two seem to be...helping each other, in some way or another. Just look at how they interact with each other. Peter's way more relaxed than when I first met him, and I'm willing to bet it's the same for you guys. and as for Tony, well...I think we've found our reason as to why he's not passed out drunk right this moment."

She shrugged her shoulders and ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know if they're just distractions for each other or something more, but whatever it is it seems to be working.

Rhodey said nothing for a moment before uncrossing his arms and staring back at the woman. "Yeah, but for how long? Distractions are only effective for so long."

Natasha shook her head. "Hopefully they figure out what they are to each other before that happens."

"And if they don't...?" Pepper asked softly.

All three looked at each other, an unspoken feeling of tension immediately weighing down heavily on their shoulders, for they all knew the answer. But none of them had the courage to put it into words. After a moment, Natasha finally spoke, voice soft.

"I don't know...and I don't want to think about it either."

 

---

 

"You know, I've been thinking. Next time I come and visit your little nerd squad, you think I should just come straight out of the iron man armor?"

"You are definitely going to make one of them explode if you do that. And I'm just gonna say here and now, I'm not liable."

Tony smirked over from where he was currently working on said armor, glancing over at Peter who was hunched over his mini arc-reactor project that he'd been working on for a while now. The teen threw him a smile as the billionaire rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Those teens could use a little excitement in their lives. What's the most exciting thing you guys do anyways?"

"Well I mean, I stopped a gang that was robbing a bank with water guns yesterday so..."

"Oh quiet, you don't count." Tony muttered, throwing a screw over towards the teen while easily ducked underneath the projectile with a chuckle. "Alright, alright, non-superpowered activities? I mean, once we got two roombas and had a death match."

"Had a...wait, what?"

"You know, just tie a balloon to the back of each of them, tape a knife to the front and see who can pop the other's balloon first?"

Tony lifted his head and blinked over at his intern, who shrugged his shoulders. "It got pretty intense. Ned had to get stitches."

The billionaire just stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. "Hard to top that, now isn't it?"

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it. We had bets going and everything."

The man chuckled and pulled at a loose wire. "Well my point still stands. Your pasty-faced little dork crew could probably live with a little more fun."

Peter tilted his head back and forth as he pressed a small miniature laser into one of the crevices of the device he was currently working on, bright white light shining into his eyes. "You're not wrong. I'm not exaggerating when I said Ned had to take like three pumps of his inhaler that night from what MJ said," he laughed, Mr. Stark doing the same from his seat across the table.

The two fell into comfortable silence after that. It was nice, a comforting blanket of quiet that washed over the both of them, the only real noises being the whirl of the laser, the clink of metal tools hitting the table or wires being snapped and yanked. If the same situation had arisen only a month prior, both Peter and Tony would have been feeling the crushing effect of awkwardness, neither sure what to do in the other's presence.

But in all the time they'd been spending together, the two of them could honestly say that such pleasantries were no longer required. They didn't need words to fill the silences between them. Simply sitting in each other's company seemed to be enough.

However, tonight, Peter couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable. He glanced up from his work to gaze at the man sitting across from him before turning back down to the mini arc-reactor, which was near completion. Still, every so often, he'd glance back up towards Mr. Stark, as if unsure of something. And if the man noticed the teen's little secret looks, he didn't say anything. He didn't even look up from his work.

Finally, Peter let out a small sigh and threw the man a sheepish look. "M...Mr. Stark?"

Tony lifted his eyes at that, noticing with a little hesitancy that Peter had just stuttered, something he'd been improving on. Immediately, the man noticed that he looked incredibly unsure of himself, fidgeting in his seat and playing with the deactivated laser in his hands. The billionaire furrowed his brows but decided to let the boy speak on his own terms instead of prompting him to speak.

Peter nibbled on his bottom lip, staring down at his hands before taking a deep breath. "I, uh...I just..." He cleared his throat, setting down the laser and running a hand across the back of his neck, eyes firmly staying glued to the table. "I just wanted to s-say...thanks...for, uh...for..." He swallowed, his throat seeming unnaturally dry.

Scrunching his face, the boy shut his eyes and took another breath, blowing it out slowly between his lips. All the while, Tony looked on in silence, itching to say something but deciding that it was best to let Peter work up the confidence to say whatever it was he needed to say himself. Lord knew the teen needed as much confidence as he could get.

Finally, the teen lifted his gaze and stared the billionaire in the eyes. "I wanted to thank you...for coming to the tournament. For...for making good on what you said. I...it..." The teen's gaze dropped for a moment of hesitancy before lifting once again, a sheepish smile accompanying it. "It was really cool of you." He let out a small nervous huff of laughter.

Tony stared at the boy who was obviously stepping outside of his comfort zone saying something as intimate as a heartfelt thank you. After a moment, the man returned the boy's smile with one of his own, warm brown eyes meeting hazel. "No problem, kid."

He blinked his eyes and cleared his throat, glancing down at the little project in the teen's hands, turning back to focus on his own work. "How's it coming along over there anyway?"

Peter glanced down at the arc-reactor in his hands. "Actually...I think I'm done."

"Whoa, seriously? Already?" Tony asked, immediately lifting his head and rising to his feet. He hadn't expected the kid to finish up with his little project for another few weeks or so. Maybe even a month or two. After all, arc-reactor technology wasn't exactly an easy subject to get down.

Peter shrugged his shoulders as Tony walked over and began to inspect the little device. "Well, yeah. I mean, the only thing I think I'm missing is the power source, but I don't really have any Euridium on hand with me."

The billionaire finished inspecting the device and glanced over at the kid, throwing him a smirk. 'Well, lucky for you, you know somebody who does."

He set the reactor down on the table and motioned for Peter to follow him. Not bothering to check behind him to see if the kid was following him (as he was almost positive he was), Tony made his way onto the upper levels of the lab. He walked over towards the back walls, where a private section of the lab - about the size of an office - stood with frosted-over glass walls to prevent prying eyes from looking in. Motioning for the kid to stay where he was, Tony raised a hand to the panel next to the door of the restricted room, the glass clearing as the door opened.

Stepping inside, Tony moved towards the back cabinets and drawers. Kneeling down, he revealed the keypad installed into the wall. Pressing in the familiar ten-digit code, the man pulled the drawer open. Eyeing the extra copy of the arc-reactor plans stored inside, he brushed them aside and eyes the small box stored in the corner of the drawer, about the size of a textbook.

He gently removed the box from the drawer and closed it up with his foot, the drawer sliding back into the wall with a soft hiss, the small button atop the keypad going from green to red as it locked once more. Stepping out of the room, Peter watched with curious eyes as Tony led him back down into the main open layout of the bottom floor of the lab.

He set the case on the floor as he went about clearing the table. As he did so, he couldn't help but glance over at Peter, who was now helping to gather the random papers strewn about, stacking them neatly in his hands and setting them on one of the other nearby tables. The man furrowed his brows in thought as he continued to haphazardly toss junk and gadgets over his shoulder, not nearly as conscientious of the stuff as his intern was. His mind remained on the Decathlon meet. After the tournament itself, their little group had gone on to actually have a pretty great time. Peter had been as calm as could be, even cracking a few jokes here and there with the others. Something about it, something about seeing the kid outside of their usual routine had stirred something in the boy, made him loosen up.

Of course, Peter could have just been riding the high of his team's victory, but Tony suspected it was more than that. Going to his tournament...that was the first time Peter had seen that the billionaire was willing to go out of his way, willing to put in effort for him. Perhaps that was what did it, that little sense of validation, of reassurance.

After another moment of hesitation, he spoke. "Listen, kid."

Peter glanced up from the pile of screws he was collecting in his hands and stared at the man. Welp, no going back now.

"I just, uh...I just wanted you to know...if you..." He paused. Even after nearly two months of this, he still wasn't very good. Nevertheless, he carried on. "If you ever need something...or have something you want me to come to...just let me know. And I'm there."

He expected the kid to smile and delve into 'thank you's', but instead the teen just shrugged his shoulders and went back to collecting the little screws and placing them into the ever-growing pile in his palm. "You don't have to do that, Mr. Stark," he said casually, as if the man had just offered to help him with his homework or something trivial like that. "It was really awesome of you to do it that one time, but I don't want you to think I expect anything of you."

Tony blinked at that, opening his mouth to speak but finding that no words came out. Peter didn't seem shocked by his own words at all, simply brushing the collected pile of screws into one of the trays stacked on the counter.

Nu-uh. Nope. He was biting this in the bud right now.

Immediately, the man walked over and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. Peter jumped at this and instinctively tried to pull away, only to calm as his brain caught up to the fact that it was just Mr. Stark. The man spun him around so that the teen was fully facing him. "But you can expect things from me, Peter," he stressed, the teen staring up at him with curiously confused eyes. "It's not a burden."

Realizing the confused look on the boy's eyes wasn't going away, Tony let out a sign and decided to bite the bullet, lifting his free hand and resting it on Peter's other shoulder. "You're not a burden."

As if those words were some sort of secret code, Peter quickly slumped his shoulders, eyes trailing down to the floor as the toe of his shoe scuffed the tiled floor. He bit the inside of his cheek and lifted his gaze.

"Really?" Peter whispered, his voice so quiet and wistful that Tony wanted to drive straight over to the kid's house and slug Richard Parker right in the face.

But instead, he simply threw the teen a reassuring, playful smile. "Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. Besides," he added, removing his hands from the boy's shoulder and shrugging. "It was fun. And if future events are anything like that Roomba death match, then put me down for some money cause I want in on that action."

Peter stared at the man for a moment before blinking and letting a sheepish smile crawl onto his face as well. "I mean, we're broke high schoolers so we really only bet Cheetos and goldfish crackers."

Tony had already walked back over to the table and was finishing up swiping random objects to the floor, too lazy to figure out where their proper storage places were. "Hey, look at me." He called, pointing to his face. "Do you think I got where I am today by sleeping on Cheetos and goldfish? This goddamn company was founded off of cheap vending machine snacks and I'll thank you to appreciate them."

Peter laughed as he grabbed the last few tools off the table. He smirked and threw the man an amused look. "Sometimes we even threw in some fruit snacks."

"Goddamn- you're just taunting me now, aren't you? Next time you're having one of these death matches, if I'm not the first person you call, I'm suing you."

"What?"

"Taking it right out of your paycheck."

The boy chuckled and finished cleaning the table off. "Alright, alright," he murmured, setting the stray screwdriver and torch on the counter. He stared down at the objects before glancing over his shoulder at the man that was now stooping down and grabbing the case, setting it down on the now cleared-off table.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Mm-hmm?" he called, not looking up from the case.

Peter walked over and placed his elbows on the table across from the man. "Thank you...for everything."

Tony looked up and met Peter's eyes, large and brown and pure. He smirked, effectively hiding the twinge that sparked in his chest and waved him off. "Forget about it. Now go get your little baking soda volcano and bring it over here so I can pour in our radioactive vinegar, huh?"

The teen chuckled, but turned and did as he was told, walking off to fetch the device.

Tony's eyes trailed after the kid before dropping down to the table, the smile on his face slowly slipping off as his chest tightened uncomfortably. His mouth was dry and the skin on his hands felt too tight. His mind relayed over his words with a bitter tang, a swell of regret washing over them.

Who was he to say he was reliable, dependable? That's what the kid thought of him now, and it was a big fat lie.

All in all, the kid thought a lot of things about him and the majority of it wasn't true. He wasn't responsible. He wasn't trustworthy. He wasn't some incredible figure to look to for guidance. But Tony let him keep believing these things, despite the fact that the man knew them to be untrue. Maybe it was nice having someone look at him with awe in their eyes instead of the usual pity or aggravation. Maybe it was nice feeling that sense of accomplishment again. But whatever it was, Tony knew it wasn't fair. Not to Peter. Not when the kid believed he could now rely on the billionaire.

After all, could he honestly say that he was a responsible enough person to handle that kind of promise.

Promise. Peter didn't like that word. Tony was beginning to see why.

The billionaire began to trace through everything that had happened over the past two months, to see where and when he had begun to dig himself so deeply into this lie. Running through the tower hiding from Pepper and Rhodey, visiting the library, working on the reactor, even the Decathlon meet. All of it had been for Peter's sake, to help the boy open up and relax. To get him to trust Tony just a little bit more.

And yet, as his mind ran through all of the events, the billionaire felt a noticeable pang of guilt stabbing into his chest, though he couldn't pinpoint why exactly. It was true. All of it had been to help Peter...right?

The man furrowed his brows, trying to recall the past events with more clarity to see if somehow he was missing something that was now making him taste a bitter tang in his mouth. Each and every time he and Peter interacted, the boy seemed to be a little bit happier, a little more relaxed. However, as he ran through the memories, Tony began to realize something else: he was distracted.

Every time he'd done something stupid with the kid, working in the lab, eating lunch at Delmar's, plotting against the press, his mind had been on Peter and only Peter. Not on Ross. Not on the Rogues. Just Peter.

Immediately, a sinking feeling began to gnaw on Tony's gut as an uneasy sense of dread pooled in his chest.

Was that why he'd done it? To distract himself?

Before he could even begin to tackle the question, Peter was walking back over, arc-reactor in hands. Shaking his heads of the thought, Tony blinked back into reality. Now was not the time. If he was going to have a breakdown, he could at least wait until Peter clocked out for the day.

It was the polite thing to do, after all.

Walking back over towards the table, Tony whipped out a pair of tough, protective gloves as well as a pair of tongs and goggles from below the bench. "Put these on," he instructed the teen as he did so himself.

After making sure the kid was ready, the man carefully opened the box, revealing a bright glowing blue light that immediately made Peter wince and turn his head away slightly on account of how violently bright it was. Tony, however, didn't seem fazed by the light as he positioned the tongs in his gloved hands and reached in, pulling out a small glowing triangle-shaped object, no bigger than a quarter: Euridium in its purest form.

"Whoa..." Peter breathed from beside him, the billionaire trying his hardest not to crack a smile at the teen's reaction. Instead, he reached over towards the arc-reactor and carefully slid the piece into place, readjusting the metal plates to comfortably fit the Euridium inside. As soon as it was in, the man closed up the case and removed his gloves, leaving the goggles on as both he and Peter turned to look at the reactor.

As soon as the Euridium was in place, the device began to glow and spark, the table almost vibrating as the reactor began to integrate its new power source. One particularly violent flash of light made Tony reach out and tug on Peter's jacket, pulling the kid to stand behind him just in case anything went wrong.

However, after a moment and one final surge of light, the glow of the device began to dim to tolerable levels until it finally evened out and ceased to vibrate, leaving a glowing blue arc reactor in its wake, now fully functional.

Both Tony and Peter said nothing, merely staring at the arc reactor for a full minute before the billionaire huffed out a chuckle, removing his goggles and glancing behind him at the still-gawking teen. "Well...color me impressed, kid. Looks like you can stay." He reached out and picked up the arc-reactor. Everything looked completely in-line. The plates, the wiring, the circuits. Everything was exact and precise, as if he'd made it himself.

Peter didn't even move as Tony reached over and pulled the goggles off of the kid's face, the teen's eyes remaining glued to the reactor. "This is the coolest thing I've ever done..." he breathed. "And I fought Captain America."

Tony scoffed. "Flattery will get you everywhere." He clapped his hands together, Peter jumping at the sudden noise. "Well! Now that the preliminary rounds are through," he gestured to the functioning device on the table. "I'd say we can move you up to the real projects." He walked over towards the table where they'd moved all the stuff and picked up a small device that looked like a high-tech playing card. Flicking his wrist, the card let loose a holographic projection that immediately enveloped the entire room, Peter gasping at the sudden lights surrounding him.

"Nanotech."

A sea of blue projections seemed to literally swim around them, connected link chains of hexagonal electron tunnels hovered in the air, floating by ever so gently, spinning and revolving around the room. An ocean had just opened up before their eyes, waving and lapping at the walls of the lab while little particles swam through in schools of nanites. It rippled and shifted ever so slightly, like unsteady waters. The tables, floors and metallic surfaces all reflected the same deep blue color, making it look like the entire room were nothing but one big orb of glowing blue light.

Peter's eyes were as wide as saucers, the bright brown irises reflecting the glowing blue holograms like small pools. A smile slowly began to creep onto his face, growing into a full-blown laugh as he reached up and touched one of the nearby clusters of electrons, looking very much like a kid in a candy store as it phased through his hand, leaving a small tingling sensation behind. His head continued to slowly turn back and forth as he walked backwards through the lab, trying to take in as much of the sight as humanly possible.

Tony couldn't help the smile that formed on his own face as he watched the boy move through the lab. He was reminded of when he first discovered Euridium, the smile that had lit up his own face at watching the projected plans of his father's creation.

As he watched the boy take in the sight, Tony took a seat on the workshop bench, blowing out a small sigh as he ran a hand down his face, suddenly feeling extremely tired.

Things had certainly gotten a lot more complicated in the last few months, Peter only being a small factor in such complications. Still, Tony could honestly say he enjoyed having the teen around. Now whether it was because it felt good to help the boy out or because it was nice to distract himself from his problems, Tony didn't know nor did he want to dwell on the fact. He would have liked to think that it was the former, without a shadow of a doubt, but he knew it was untrue.

Whether he liked it or not, he was quickly becoming a mentor in the teen's eyes and it was a role he'd have to take seriously...even if he had no idea how to even begin. Nevertheless, Tony knew it would help the boy immensely.

Now, would he also get some benefit out of it by keeping his mind off of the Avengers? Possibly. But what was wrong with that? What was wrong with getting his mind off of his problems for a while? Isn't that what he was basically doing with Peter? Distracting him from his problems at home? If so, then why couldn't he also do the same with himself?

Even as he thought it, another shot of guilt cut through him but the man quickly pushed it down. No, it was fine. Everything was fine.

He glanced back up at Peter, who was now rambling on about nanotechnology and how "awesome" it was. The billionaire cracked a grin as the boy began to delve into a full-blown rant session. Ultimately, the man took a breath and pushed the thoughts away. It wasn't anything he needed to worry about. Peter was getting an environment he could truly thrive in and Tony was given just a little time to forget.

Everything would be fine...so why wouldn't the bad feeling in his stomach go away?

 

---

 

Thursday - April 21, 2016

Springshore Dr. - Parker  Residence

08:02 p.m.

Peter waved to Happy as he stepped out of the car, the man not returning the gesture as he rolled up the window and sped off. Peter didn't mind. It was just Happy being Happy.

Giving a small roll of his eyes, the teen turned and made his way up the stairs to the large townhouse. Thursdays were usually pretty quiet, the more rigorous training happening on Fridays to allow for maximum recovery time before school on Monday. And yet, for some reason, Peter felt a sense of unease begin to spread throughout his body, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge as his muscles coiled to fight an invisible enemy.

This wasn't the usual reluctance he felt to enter the house. No, this was...different. It was the same tingling feeling he always got whenever he was fighting as Spider-Man and something was coming for him. It was the same sense that alerted him to danger, the same one that blared for him to get out of the way, dodge some oncoming attack, avoid something coming for him.

The teen stared up at the large red double doors of the house, feeling a lump beginning to form in his throat as he slowly and cautiously began to ascend the stairs, pushing down the tingling sensation. Whatever it was, he was sure he could handle it. He handled everything else, after all.

However, before he could even open the door, it was opening from the other side. Peter jumped at the sudden movement, eyes meeting Max as he stood in the now open doorway. He was wearing loose-fitting jeans and a black button-down shirt that only had the first two buttons actually fastened, leaving the rest of his bare chest exposed, revealing the numerous tattoos on the dark skin. In his hand he swished around a glass of whiskey.

Quickly lowering his gaze, Peter felt his skin begin to chill as the tingling sense began to grow stronger.

"M-Max?"

"Come with me."

With that, the man turned on his heel, not even bothering to check and see if Peter was following. He was, of course. He didn't dare do anything else.

Peter watched with morbid curiosity as Max swigged down the rest of the whiskey in one gulp, hissing through his teeth as he set the glass down on the counter as they walked past, not even breaking his stride. The elevator doors opened automatically as they approached, Peter reluctantly stepping in next to the man.

The doors shut and they were immediately on their way down.

Great. What do they want now?

In the corner of his eye, he could make out Max reaching down and beginning to button the rest of the shirt, even going as far as to roll the cuffs even farther up his arms, revealing even more tattoos. Peter filed this as odd considering Max always liked to have his chest bare but disregarded it as unimportant.

In hindsight, he should have taken it as a clue.

As soon as the elevator doors were open, Peter immediately recognized clue number two: the Station was empty.

The Station was never empty. In a secret lab about the size of a football stadium, filled to the brim with experimental machinery, thugs, criminals, cages, animals, the works, it was always bustling. But now...it was completely void of any and all people. The only things that remained were the huge subway car still fixed to the tracks and a few empty animal cages lining the back wall.

The entire Station was barely even lit. The usual fluorescent lights that illuminated the dark tunnels like a doctor's office were now shut off, leaving only the swinging lights that could barely light a closet let alone a huge space like the lab. The disgusting sickly yellow hue of said lights bathed the lab in long dark shadows that stretched along the stained, puddle-filled floors and up the browning walls. Occasionally, the lights would flicker on and off, leaving the Station lit only by the eerie red emergency lights running along the track at times.

Usually, there were so many people in the lab that Peter could barely hear himself think. But now that it was empty, every little noise and creak met his ears as if they were being amplified by surround-sound speakers. The rusted metal of the lights overhead creaked loudly as they swung around, mimicking the noise of a child rocking back and forth on a swing set. Along the back walls stood three large circular drains. The floors sloped down towards said walls ever so slightly, leading to a small, carved out canal for water to pool and run through, leading straight towards one of the three drains. The water seemed much louder than usual, the echoing splashes of each drop hitting below echoing through the large room.

Peter stared at the scene with furrowed brows, turning to hesitantly ask Max what was happening, only to freeze as he realized the man was gone as well. He was alone.

At least, he thought he was alone.

The teen blinked, goosebumps forming along his arms as the tingling sensation at the nape of his neck began to scream, nearly making him wince in pain at the blaring pulse going through his brain.

Immediately sensing something was incredibly wrong, the teen whipped around to race back to the elevator, only for a bright purple blast to rush forward, slamming into his chest and sending him careening backwards.

He tumbled along the dirty ground before coming to a stop, letting out a loud groan of pain as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. Blinking back the tears of pain from the heat of the blast, Peter whipped his gaze around to try and pinpoint the location of the blast, only to pale and instantly freeze up in horror.

Sandra stood up along the catwalks positioned overhead, hands bathed in bright purple energy, her eyes reflecting the same hue. She wore the deep-black body suit with white trim that she only wore on missions and covert operations that only highlighted the intensity of the violet glow. The leapt up and over the railings of the catwalk and began to fall to the ground, thrusting out her hand as a wave of purple energy slowed her descent. She touched down silently and stared at the boy on the ground before her.

Curt crouched atop the subway car, eyes gleaming and lips spread in a chilling grin as he rose up while simultaneously removing his usual white lab coat. Clenching his fists together, his skin slowly began to sprout with small green scales that swam up and down his body, his muscles bulging and ripping before strapping themselves back together again. His grin became a snarl as his eyes took on a yellow tint until finally the Lizard stood before them. Like Sandra, he leapt off the car and down to the floor below, only his landing wasn't quite so silent. In fact, the very ground shook from the cracks he left in the cement where he landed.

Peter stared with wide eyes at the two before him, only to gasp as he felt the ground below him beginning to shift and move. He lifted up his hand and saw that the small specks of dirt were beginning to vibrate and swirl together. They flew out from underneath him and began to take shape next to Sandra, slowly building itself up higher and higher until it began to take the shape of a large burly man. Two bright green eyes flashed out at him from the mound of sand until two arms, hands and legs went to match. Finally, Flint stood his ground, his usual green shirt still in place as he flexed his newly formed hands.

Peter, who had quickly found the sense to move, leapt to his feet and stared out at the three before him. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest as his hands shook at his sides. The tingling sensation had switched to full-blown waves of distress as he flicked his gaze back and forth between the three.

Wait. Three?

As soon as the thought entered his mind, a bright flickering blue light entered the corner of his eye. Whipping his head around, Peter reflexively took a few steps back as he noticed Max emerging from the darkness, trails of electricity flowing from limb to limb, matching the sparks that flew from his bright cyan irises. His suit was similar to Sandra's, trails of electrical lines etched throughout, containing the natural flow of his electricity. The man stared him down as he slowly made his way over to stand in front of the other three Cons.

"Do you know why you're here, Peter?"

His father's voice echoed throughout the entire Station, Peter's eyes flickering throughout the lab to try and pinpoint the man's location. The sound of heavy footsteps on metal made him look towards the catwalk again. Richard Parker slowly strolled along the walkway, eyes distant and calm. "You're here...because of this."

With that, Peter noticed the man casually toss something over the side of the railing. It fluttered through the air before falling a little ways away from Peter's feet. Still, it was close enough for the teen to see what it was.

A newspaper. With a picture of him and Mr. Stark.

The tingling could be felt in his fingertips, in his toes.

"You're here...because I'm very concerned about you." Peter trailed him like a mouse watching a cat pace back and forth, his heart hammering so loud it was hard to hear what the man was even saying.

"You seem to be forgetting your place. A place I have so painstakingly taught you about, taught you to respect, to obey."

The teen glanced back over at the Cons, who hadn't yet moved, although the Lizard's tail swished back and forth along the ground, the scraping noise it created grating Peter's ears. However, a loud bang made the boy nearly leap out of his skin and whip his gaze back towards Richard, who was now leaning over the rails and glaring daggers at the boy below him. "You're here because you seem to be in need of some...refreshing."

Peter opened his mouth for the first time, noticing the staggered sounds of his breathing. "I...I-I don't-"

"Don't try and argue with me, Peter," the man murmured, straightening out his suit ever so slightly. "Discipline is a common factor in parenting. And in our very special circumstances," he gestured around him at the Station. "...we require some very special forms of discipline."

The Cons took a step forward. Peter took a step back. The tingling strengthened. He tried again. "L-listen...this is all...t-this is a-all just a big...misunderstanding."

"Oh, I'm sure it is. I'm sure it is," Richard nodded. "It's just...well, you can understand my worries now, can't you?" His voice was sweet and reassuring, like a man talking to a little boy about something clearly too complicated for a child to understand. "Everything I've taught you seems to be fading from your mind."

Was he breathing? He wasn't sure anymore. "It's not! I-It's not, I promise!"

Richard's eyes hardened. "What have I told you about that word?" he snapped, losing his temper slightly for the first time in their little conversation before taking a deep breath and sliding right back into a veil of composure, like he was hosting a business meeting.

The tingling was so strong he had to grit his teeth together.

"It means nothing, Peter. Nothing. The only thing you can be sure of is hard work and discipline." Peter hated that word. "Discipline, my boy, is the backbone of success." The man let a smile fall onto his face and motioned to himself. "How do you think I got to where I am today? Everyone around me tried to break me, tried to bury me and dance on my grave. Lucky for me, I was strong enough to fight back. I was strong enough to pick up the pieces and build myself up better and stronger. But you...you are not."

His eyes gleamed as he leaned closer again, resting his elbows on the railing. "Still...you're my son and I won't let you be buried."

The Cons tensed their muscles.

Peter's heart stopped.

Richard raised his hand and pressed two fingers together.

"So I'll break you myself."

Snap.

With that small noise, the Cons surged forward. Peter barely had time to blink, let alone dodge the sand-guarded fist that shot forward and rammed into his face.

"And I'll make you stronger!"

He shouted in pain and fell to the floor. Immediately snapping his eyes back open, he flipped out of the way of the claws that scored the concrete where he'd just been, pressing himself to the floor once more as a huge tail swiped overhead. Peter braced his arms and flipped back, landing on his feet as he slid backwards, hands held out to the approaching Cons, their eyes lighting the Station as the lights above them flickered on and off.

"Please..." he said softly, eyes heavy and tired.

It was no use. It never was. He wondered why he even tried anymore.

They didn't say anything. Max curled his fingers together and shot his arm out, a trail of electricity flying forward, illuminating the lab in fiery blue light.

Peter whipped to the side, the heat from the passing blast burning his skin. Crouching down to his knees at the second sand-covered fist that flew by him, he tried to wrap his hands around the outstretched limb, only for it to completely crumble away in his grasp, reforming around his arms, locking them in place.

He narrowed his eyes as Sandra whipped forward, hands aglow in bright purple light. He ducked underneath her fist, hands still restrained as he began to backtrack, the woman following with each jab and kick she sent forward.

She kneed him in the gut, causing him to double forward where she kneed him again in the face this time. His neck whipped upwards violently, only for him to steel himself and wrench his locked arms forward, hitting her underneath the chin and sending her flying backwards. The sand around his limbs dissolved at the force of the hit.

The teen didn't even have a moment to breathe before he felt Lizard's tail wrap around his midsection, lifting him off the ground. He grunted at the pressure, only to gasp and narrowly whip his head to the side right as another bout of electricity whizzed right by his ear. Gritting his teeth, he curled his leg back and kicked Lizard in the shoulder, causing the monster to drop him to the floor. Peter quickly slid underneath the creature's legs and leapt onto his back, ramming his elbow into the back of his neck.

The reptile roared in pain, his tail lashing furiously to try and unbalance him. The long limb wrapped around Peter's ankle, sending him flying backwards where he smashed right through one of the glass animal cages lining the back wall. He groaned and pushed himself back up, wincing as he felt the shards pressing into his palms and arms. He shook them off, ignoring the blood now bubbling up to his skin, only to be encased in violet light and hurled across the room once more. He slammed into the concrete and rolled along the ground before skidding to a stop by some of the tech equipment. Eyeing one of the metal staffs used for training, Peter quickly wrapped his fingers around it right as he felt himself being encased in the same energy again. Only this time, when Sandra drew him to her, he reared back and swung the staff as hard as he could.

The woman ducked underneath, but was distracted enough that her magic dissolved. Peter lunged forward, ramming the metal staff against her collarbone and pressing her down right as a huge boulder slammed into his side.

Miraculously, he kept his grip on the staff as he skidded backwards, kneeling down on the ground to catch his breath right as another boulder sailed through the air. Peter swung the staff forward again, breaking the rock into dozens of tiny pieces that scattered along the ground. He did this again and again for the second and third boulders that Flint created and hurled towards him, his arms aching from the force it took to shatter each rock.

Max leapt forward as Peter destroyed the last rock, electricity flowing throughout the man's entire body. Peter leapt over the man and whirled the staff in his hand, slamming it into the Con's shoulder. Max snarled and whipped around, firing a high-voltage blast right at the boy.

Peter side-stepped the attack and swung out with the staff again, Max ducking underneath the blow and right into the path of Peter's knee, which collided with the man's nose with a satisfying crunch. Max howled in pain and reared back right as the Lizard leapt forward to take his place, catching the underside of Peter's legs, sending him sprawling onto the floor. The monster pressed one set of claws down on the teen's chest as he snapped his teeth, the talons sinking into the boy's skin, blood bubbling up from the wounds.

Peter gritted his teeth against the pain and brought the staff up right as the creature lunged again, the bar catching in the reptile's mouth, preventing him from closing his jaws around Peter's face. The teen grunted and felt sweat beading down his cheek as the creature pushed against the staff, saliva dripping down from its teeth onto Peter's clothes, mingling with the growing red stain on Peter's shirt from where the creature's claws continued to sink into his chest.

Suddenly, the teen felt a violent course of white-hot electricity shoot through his body. He let out an involuntary scream as he lost his grip on the staff, Lizard shaking it free and snapping his jaws around the boy's shoulder. Choking back another scream, Peter jammed his knee into the reptile's gut and pushed with all his might, heaving the beast off of him, his teeth scraping against the bones in Peter's shoulder, ripping the muscle.

Hastily rising back up to his feet, Peter pressed a hand to his now-bleeding wound and glared out at the Cons standing before him. They cracked their necks and rotated their shoulders, throwing each other pleased grins and amused chuckled.

They were just getting started.

Peter could feel blood dripping down his face from a cut above his eyebrow. His eyes flitted up towards the catwalk. His father was gone, but probably still in the lab somewhere. He wouldn't miss this.

The teen's eyes then trailed down towards the elevator a little ways away. There was no way he was winning this fight. The only chance he had was to make it to the elevator, pray he could get out of the house intact and...and...wait for them to cool off? Was that even likely at this point? They didn't really seem angry. Just amused, happy even at getting to fill out an order.

That's what this was. An order. A job.

For a moment, the teen thought of Mr. Stark, wondered what the man would say if he could see him now. Could he go to Stark Tower? Find safe refuge there? Peter had to admit, the idea was tempting. But just as quickly as it had entered his mind, he was shaking it out. No, there was no way he was going to Mr. Stark with this.

His eyes flitted over to the Cons, their eyes flickering in bright glowing light.

It wasn't like the man would be able to help anyways.

No. He just had to reach the elevator and get out of the house. He could think of something to do once he was safely away from them. It was a crappy plan, he could already tell. But it was the best he could come up with.

He'd have to at least try.

Narrowing his eyes, he slid his feet against the concrete and curled his fists. The Cons must have noticed his silent signal, for they charged forward again. He slid underneath the purple blast and flipped out of the way of the pillar of sand that shot forward, leaping over Max's outstretched fist and rocketing underneath the Lizard's tail. His feet pounded against the floor as he set his eyes on the elevator.

Something latched onto his ankle, dragging him to the floor and pulling him closer to Flint and the Lizard. The teen growled and glanced around his surroundings, noticing one of the nearby steel tables. He wrapped his fingers around the leg and held fast, his leg jarring at the sudden movement. Flint narrowed his eyes and made a motion with his arm, the sand pulling harder. His ankle strained painfully, the teen's eyes widening as he caught sight of both Sandra and the Lizard rushing him. He let go of the table, the force of the sand whipping him forward.

He rammed into Flint and punched him in the face, leaping to the side as the Lizard leapt at him, the reptile dog-piling his comrade instead.

Peter jumped back up to his feet, only to receive a blast to the stomach. He fell to the floor and groaned, pressing a hand to his gut right as Sandra launched herself into the air, the energy around her crackling like fire. Her eyes burned as she zoomed forward. He ducked underneath her, grabbing her arm as she flew past and throwing her down.

She grabbed his arm as he did so, hand burning with energy. The teen screamed as he felt it begin to burn through his clothes and into his skin, instantly stumbling back as the woman rose up to her feet. She landed back down on the ground and reached behind her, pulling out her signature knives, each about a foot in length. She twirled them around her fingers before running forward.

Peter ducked underneath one, the other slicing his cheek before he grabbed her arm and threw her over his shoulder. She was ready, however, landing on the ground carefully and twisting around, her legs wrapping around Peter's own. She rolled her body, her legs bringing the boy down as well. He grunted as he hit the floor, biting back a scream of pain as his shoulder landed awkwardly, twisting himself around the knife that now came for him once more.

It cut into his neck before he was able to block it, the sound of blood hitting the concrete meeting his ears before it was coming for him again. He choked down another cry of pain as he felt the knife stab into his thigh, Sandra ramming it through the muscle and twisting it in for good measure before he was able to swing his free leg forward, hitting the woman in the shoulder. She loosened her grip on the other knife, causing Peter to wrench it from her grip and elbow her in the nose. She reared back as a spurt of blood escaped, dripping down her face as she fell backwards. Peter quickly latched his hand around the hilt of the knife still embedded in his leg and yanked it out with a shout, tossing it away while keeping the other close to his chest.

The teen pushed himself back up, chest heaving and blood dripping from everywhere, his face, his leg, his shoulder, his chest. The warm, sticky substance greatly contrasted his pale complexion, like drops of blood in the snow. He could feel the energy draining away from him, the pain from his wounds slowly beginning to creep through him. His eyes trailed back over towards the elevator.

He had to get out and he had to do it now before he was too weak to escape.

He twisted the knife in his hands as the Lizard stalked closer, claws scraping the ground, tongue flicking in and out of his mouth. He let out a deafening roar before dashing forward, tail whipping. Peter ducked underneath the projectile and slashed at the monster's arm as he ran by, grunting as one of the creature's legs caught him in the side. He hit the floor and twisted around, barely missing the claws that racked the ground by his head, kicking up dirt and mounds of pebbles. The monster snapped its teeth at him, head darting in for another bite.

Peter tightened his hold on the knife and whipped his arm forward, the steel slicing across the Lizard's face, ripping through scales and skin. The beast roared in pain and stumbled backwards, Peter quickly skittering away from him as he heard the crackling of electricity in his ears once again.

Sucking in another painful breath, the teen gritted his teeth and gripped the knife in his hand tighter right as Max made eye contact with him. Peter narrowed his eyes as the man turned to fully face him. Well, as long as he was here...he might as well let out some well-placed aggression.

With a shout, the teen ran forward, Max coiling his muscles as the boy approached. The man shot his hand forward, sparks of electricity coursing through them. Peter, however, ducked underneath the blow and leapt away from the second one that followed, sliding under the man's feet before kicking his legs out from underneath him. Max went down in a heap, twisting around to face the teen who swiped the knife forward.

The steal sliced Max's outstretched arm, the man hissing in pain before glaring heatedly at the teen. He grabbed Peter's arm and tried to hurl him over his shoulder, only for Peter to hold tight, wrapping his legs around the man's midsection and twisting the knife around, jamming it right into Max's back, just below the shoulder blade. Max screamed in pain and stumbled backwards towards one of the back walls, ramming Peter into the hard concrete surface.

The teen grunted in pain and released his grip on the man, Max whipping around in fury. He curled his fist and punched Peter in the face, his head whipping to the side as the man grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed his face into the wall again and again. Peter pressed his hands against the wall and pushed back, Max letting out a grunt as he strained to overpower the boy. Peter kicked his leg out backwards, catching the man in the shin.

Max stumbled backwards, allowing the teen to slip free from his grasp and sprint away.

He was close to the elevator now. Just a few more paces and he might just have a chance of getting out. However, a large wall of sand emerged in front of him, effectively blocking his path. He let out a small groan and turned back around. Flint glared at him as he curled his fist, the sand behind the boy surging forward.

Peter raised a hand, trying and failing to block the sand that blew past him, effectively blinding him. Soon enough, the entire lab was engulfed in the sand storm, which whipped and howled around him, leaving him practically deaf and blind.

The teen whipped around, heart hammering as he tried to locate the Cons. Blood was beginning to soak into his clothes, slogging him down as he blinked his eyes, clearing the wave of dizziness that overtook him for a second. He could feel the breath in his chest stuttering as he heaved and panted. His hair was matted to his forehead from blood and sweat mingling together.

The elevator was nowhere to be seen. He couldn't see anything! Before he could even begin to estimate where his escape route was, a fist shot through the sand, ramming into his cheek. He grunted and stumbled backwards, catching himself from falling just in time. He lifted his head again, only for a bright purple blast to fly through the sand as well, hitting him in the leg.

He fell to the floor, catching himself on his hands right as a tail soared through and whipped his back. He collapsed to the concrete with a shout of pain, coughing violently as his breath seized for one terrifying moment. He couched and hacked again, blood dribbling down from his nose and the corner of his mouth. He absentmindedly wiped it away with the back of his sleeve, shakily pushing himself back up right as the sandstorm began to die down.

However, before Peter could find the Cons again, a hand was grabbing onto his arm and painfully wrenching it behind his back. .

Peter heard the electricity before he felt it, the sharp mechanical crackling that made his hairs stand on end. At first it felt like ice-water being poured over him, freezing his muscles solid and holding his body in place. Then the heat came. Peter didn't even hear himself begin to scream over the sound of fire coursing through his brain, burning his nerves and lighting his muscles aflame. He could nearly feel his bones splintering, the smell of burning flesh vaguely hitting his nose as white-hot waves of excruciating agony pierced his skin and tore through his very being, stealing the air from his lungs and tearing him apart from the inside out.

He could feel his legs buckling underneath him, but the grip on his arms remained firm, holding him up while simultaneously releasing wave after wave of electricity into his body, which seized uncontrollably in deep painful spasms in the man's grip. He could feel his heart stuttering in his chest, thrumming with the deep hum of electricity crackling around it.

And just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Peter gasped for breath as Max released his hold on him, pushing him forward. The teen couldn't even finish inhaling before Lizard was leaping forward, whipping his tail hard into the boy's side.

Peter's limp body went sailing through the air until he hit the concrete walls of the lab with a sickening crunch before he fell to the floor in a heap...and didn't get back up again.

A muffled silence followed, the noises around him deep and garbled, like he was underwater. He tried to move his body, coil his muscles, get back up again. He was defenseless like this. He had to get up, he had to get out. He had to move!

But his body wouldn't respond. Every twitch of his muscles sent blinding agony through his core, making large black and red spots dance before his eyes, which were glazed and hazy. Though whether it was from pain or exhaustion, Peter didn't know. He could literally feel the adrenaline beginning to leak from his body as if it were his blood, which was now starting to spread along the concrete floor, a deep black stain that stretched out from underneath his chest, growing in size with each passing moment. It was warm and sticky and quite uncomfortable.

He could feel the burning sting of his wounds rising to the surface as he tried to suck in a rattling breath. He could almost feel his chest caving in with each wheeze, his lungs burning as he tried and failed to calm his stuttering heartbeat. His head pounded, threatening to crack open right there from the pressure of each throb, matching in time to the frantic beating of his heart.

For a moment, Peter just laid there in the silence, cheek pressing into the cold concrete below. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on breathing, on dragging in as much air as he possibly could, making use of the small respite he'd been granted. They were coming. He could hear their footsteps, feel the vibrations in the stone below him.

He breathed, opening his eyes and catching sight of his hand. It was in the pool of his own blood, flecks of red splattered against the white of his skin, pale blue veins visible on the bruised forearm. He blinked and flexed his fingers, watching them disrupt the steady flow of blood and sending small ripples through the pool. It was warm, sticky.

He breathed.

Suddenly, he felt two beefy hands wrap around his arms and hoist him into the air. His shoulder cracked and squelched and he could feel his ribs grinding together. He gritted his teeth as a wail of anguish tried to bubble from his throat. Instead, all that came out was a harsh cough that made his chest rattle and blood dribble from the corner of his mouth.

Max and Flint were none too gentle as they held him up, his own legs too weak to support him. His chin hit his chest, dirty dripping strands of hair falling into his face, grime rolling down his forehead. He could hear more footsteps through the ringing in his ears and blearily lifted his eyes enough to make out the well-polished shoes approaching, coming to a stop in front of him. He shut his eyes again.

"I-if...you didn't want me...t-to be around him, then why did you...agree to the...the internship in the first place?"

Richard narrowed his eyes and stared at the boy in disgust. "Because we need to use you. Maybe not now, but eventually. We finally have an eye on the inside. And when we need you to cut the wires, when we need you to swipe the codes and steal the secrets, you'll be obedient. But this-" He thrusted the newspaper into his face. "...this better not get to your head." He tossed the paper down where it landed in the puddle of blood. The red quickly soaked through the pages, coating the print in black.

"He doesn't care about you."

Peter clenched his fists together. God, he was so tired. "You're lying!" He snapped with what little strength he could muster. "You don't know him."

Immediately, he felt Max drive a fist into his stomach, the teen gasping in pain before coughing up another bout of blood. His ribs shifted again. He breathed.

Richard sneered at him. "What? And you do? Look at you, Peter. He's already getting to you." The man folded his arms behind his back and began to pace back and forth. "You know the rules, Peter. Do you need me to repeat them? Don't you ever forget where you belong." He grabbed a fistful of Peter's hair and wrenched his head up, neck snapping painfully as blearily eyes took in the sight of his father, the man's eyes gleaming maliciously as he growled. "You belong to me, you little rat. And that will never change, no matter what men like Tony Stark say." He spat out the name like it was poison on his tongue before letting a contemptuous sneer fall onto his face. "He can't help you. He can't even help himself."

He roughly let go of the boy's hair, Peter's head falling limp once more. Richard turned away and began to walk off, only to pause as a small, pathetic little whisper of a voice met his ears.

"Why...do you do this? W-why are you so horrible?"

The man glanced over his shoulder before turning. "You think I'm horrible, Peter." His voice was calm, eerily so. "I'll tell you who's horrible. Those people." He pointed out towards the elevator. "Those people out there in the real world. They're horrible. They watch and they wait for you to fail and they pounce on you when you do. They're horrible, Peter. Not me. Not when I'm willing to prepare you for what you're going to face out there, training you for what you'll inevitably have to do."

He narrowed his eyes and glowered at the teen, words sharp and deadly. "So don't you stand there and pretend that I don't care." He scoffed and gestured around him at the Station. "I care enough to train you, feed you, shelter you. I care enough to do this! To teach you the lessons you'll need to learn in order to survive. That to get ahead, you have to make the tough choices, that there will always be people around you who will try to break you, grind you to dust."

Peter could feel his body shaking. "So what? I'm just...s-supposed to break them first?"

"Something like that, yes."

Richard stared at the boy before letting out a long and tired sigh. He made some sort of gesture with his hand and suddenly Max was letting go of his arm, meaning the only thing keeping him upright was Flint's grip on his other arm. However, Richard walked forward and roughly grabbed onto his free wrist, staring the boy down.

"Fun fact, did you know that when a bone breaks..."

His stomach churned. "...once it mends, it mends much stronger than before..."

Richard tightened his hold on the teen's arm.

"...so that it's that much harder to break."

He pulled his hand down, the bone bending along with them before finally snapping altogether. Peter strangled back a cry of pain, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as his father released his hold on him. Flint did the same and he was suddenly falling to his knees, cradling his now-broken arm, eyes hazy and unfocused as he stared down at the blood soaking into his pants from the puddle below.

He breathed. His father continued.

"That, my dear boy, is human evolution trying to tell us something."

The man crouched down, resting his arms on his knees as he stared at the boy. He reached out and carded a hand through Peter's matted hair, painfully tugging through the curls with his large fingers. "I know this must not make sense now. But it will in the future. Every order I make you follow, every rule I have you stick to. It's all for your betterment. To help you learn. Learn the lessons you would have learned later on in life in a more painful manner. Lessons that would have grinded you to nothing had you learned them in the future."

He moved his hand down and wiped Peter's tears away with his thumb, leaving a streak of blood on the boy's cheek. "I will break you, Peter, before the world has a chance to break you first. And from those little pieces, I will create something better, stronger." He let a smile fall onto his face. "See? I do have a reason for all of this. I do care. And do you know why I care?

"Because you're my son...and I love you."

More tears streamed down Peter's face. They were not of joy.

Richard stood back up and wiped his hands together. "Now...what do you say?"

Peter stared down at his knees, vice grip on his wrist bruising the skin pink. Drops of water dripped into the puddle below. He didn't look up.

"...thank you."

The man seemed satisfied at that, glancing up at the Cons standing around the teen. "Make sure he never forgets it," he muttered before walking towards the elevator and disappearing from sight.

Peter didn't remember much after that.

 

---

 

His eyes were open. At least he thought they were. It wasn't dark, but he didn't know where he was. Was he supposed to? It was blurry. Were his eyes okay? Were they still open? He blinked.

His feet were moving but his legs weren't. The ground was moving. It was gray and dirty and hadn't been cleaned in a while. His feet were still moving. How were his feet moving if his legs weren't. He tilted his head down slightly. He could see his toes scraping along the ground as they dragged behind him, trails of blood following in his wake.

Dragged. He was being dragged. Why?

He blinked again and tried to lift his head, finding it to be quite heavy. So he lifted his eyes instead, catching sight of two large men on either side of him. They were holding his arms, dragging him forward. They weren't saying anything. Was he saying something? He listened for the sound of his voice but was only greeted with the sound of scraping. What was that? He glanced down.

Oh yeah, his feet.

The hallway was long and barely lit. Peter could hardly see two feet in front of his face but as his mind cleared and the fog around his thoughts slowly dissipated, the teen quickly realized where he was going. Despite the sinking pit of dread that hung heavy in his stomach, he didn't fight Max or Flint, didn't struggle in their hold.

What was the point?

He tried to block out the waves of pain that thrummed through his body with each step the men took, roughly hefting his body in between the two of them. His clothes were soaked by now, hanging off of him in tatters, revealing pale flesh and deep red wounds. He could taste blood in his mouth, dripping between his lips and down his nose.

He breathed. It was hard.

Eventually, the two men stopped, dropping Peter to the ground. He landed with a thud. His body screamed, he didn't. He didn't move.

His eyes blearily creaked open, the hallway around him hazy and unfocused. He could see the walls though, after a deep moment of concentration, he could see them, see their details. The perfectly drawn sketches, dioramas and models of hundred upon hundreds of butterflies. Boxes sat against the floors, holding old taxidermy kits, housing units and terrariums.

His father wasn't usually one for sentiment. But with his old life's work, he couldn't seem to get rid of them. So down here they went, and down here they would stay, along with everything else in his life he'd shunted to the side for bigger and brighter things.

Down here, Peter would stay.

Max approached the door before them and gripped the large metal locks fastened to the sides. Unbolting them, he heaved the massive door open, the large black maw of inky darkness spilling out before them.

Flint stooped down and grabbed Peter by the back of his shirt collar while Max held the door open. He breathed. He didn't fight.

As soon as they were inside, Max moved over towards the side of the door and flipped a few switches. Instantly the room was bathed in bright fluorescent lights that made the men squint their eyes.

The room was fairly spacious considering its purpose, about the size of a full walk-in closet. But there were no clothes draped on hangers. There were no shoes lining the floors or belts swinging on hooks. There was nothing but the walls, four steel masses pressing against each other, matching the cold steel floor underneath. But it wasn't what the room housed that was its main star. It's what it created

And as soon as he was tossed in, the door closed and the lights shut off, Peter was left alone with the Dark Room's creation: complete and total emptiness.

There was no noise. There was no light. There was nothing but the feel of the floor underneath him and the slowly growing pool of blood adding a sliver of warmth to his shivering form. Peter felt his eyes twitching, couldn't tell if they were open or closed. He felt his lungs rattling against his chest as he breathed, the only sound his ears could hear, the only hint of life in the otherwise desolate cage.

And that's what it was, really. Not a sensory deprivation tank, or a holding cell, or anything else he could have imagined laying there on the blood-stained floor. The Dark Room was none of that.

It was a classroom. A place to learn his lessons.

Peter dropped his head once more, chin resting on his chest which expanded painfully, ribs grinding against each other with each inhale. His shoulder ached with the full weight of his body pressing down on it, but he didn't make a move to relieve himself of the pain. He felt something streaming down his cheek. He didn't have the energy to wipe the tears away, but the sound of them splashing down onto the cold steel was a small reprieve from the looming silence around him, an oppressive ringing in his ears.

It was hard to imagine that just a few hours ago he'd been enjoying himself in the company of Mr. Stark. He wondered what the man would think of him now.

He closed his eyes. Outside, he could hear the butterflies. Hear them come to life off of the pages, breaking through the glass cases, crawling along the walls outside. But they couldn't get out. There was no sky to fly free to, no garden ready and waiting to accept them. They were trapped in those looming walls, confined to those shadows forever, flying endlessly in a stone prison.

He breathed. He didn't want to...but he breathed.