Archive of Our Own ^beta

Peter knows Tony doesn’t forget on purpose, and he knows that Tony means well with his concern. But, the man has to deal with the fact Peter isn’t a hero, and is in fact, a vigilante. If all he gets is a broken nose after a long night of patrol, Peter considers himself lucky.

A lot of vigilante things were lost on Tony, such as bad PR. Sure, the Avengers get some bad PR, but never J. Jonah. Jameson style, but then again, Spider-Man always had the best pictures, because Peter Parker gave them in for a bit of extra money.

There was some things you learn when you’re in Peter’s line of business, and that is, how to calm down a rape victim, how to help a lost child who doesn’t want help, who to punch harder than the rest, who are first time thieves, and that sometimes things like “don’t pull the knife out” is a rule best ignored, (unless it was somewhere bad bad).

You know Tony’s too far gone from the vigilante line of work, when it’s Pepper Potts, who tells Tony that a broken nose is the least of Peter’s worries, even though she too freaks out about it.

Rubbing the bridge of his permanently bent nose, healed, and snapped back into place yet again, Peter sat with the other Avengers, desperately trying to ignore Tony, who was ranting about new updates to Peter’s suit.

Should I make a new suit? My own, so that way Tony won’t have to get updates, and I won’t need him updating the suit, and making it more difficult to just... work.

“ — and... are you listening to me?!” Tony screeched, eyes wide, and Peter snapped back to the present.

“What?” Peter hummed, glancing at an amused Bucky and Sam, and a slightly disappointed Steve. Clint merely sipped his drink, and Natasha raised an eyebrow, Bruce sighed watching them, and Thor was confused.

“Peter, your nose was broken!” Reasoned Tony, border lining hysterical.

Thor was officially confused, “but having a broken nose is a normal part of combat.”

Peter raised a hand, and gestured to Thor, “yes. Thank you, thank you, Mr. Thor!” He nodded and crossed his arms, “see? A broken nose is normal, Mr. Stark.” Thor was usually confused about most customs, but for once he had a right. Peter is technically a warrior, and since Asgardians start training in early teenage years, and some even younger, broken noses were common, and Thor was allowed to be confused.

Tony scowled, “well it shouldn’t be!”

Peter rolled his eyes. It took everything in him to keep calm and not lose his mind, nor let out the darkest part of himself out. “Mr. Stark, I get stabbed nearly every other day, I’m fine — ”

“That’s another thing!” Reasoned Tony, annoyed, “why aren’t you coming here to get stitches! I worry about you!”

“So does Daredevil, and so did Aunt May.” Peter assured, swallowing as he thought of his Aunt May; dead. Because of him. “Yet, you don’t, or didn’t, see them freaking out.”

It fell tense at the mention of the boy's Aunt. May had been a lovely woman, and had died due to helping Peter cure the villains from alternate dimensions. Peter had been torn up about it, and had gone rogue for a while.

Tony crossed his arms, and sighed, saying in a calmer voice, “what did May think about you hanging out with Daredevil?”

“The same thing she thought about me hanging out with you,” Peter reasoned, “she didn’t get it, but so long as you were helping me, she didn’t care. But, she liked Double D more.” Shrugged Peter, smirking as Tony began to stutter. The memories always hurt, but they were layered with bittersweet feelings.

“What – ?!” The only way Peter could describe the noise Tony made was the “lipstick in my valentino white bag?!” vine. “She liked Daredevil more?! Daredevil?!”

“Yep,” grinned Peter. He stood, “anyways. I’m gonna go take a nap, I was out until four last night.”

“You’re meant to be in for midnight,” sighed Tony, running his hands through his slowly greying hair.

Peter shrugged, “and Daredevil says two in the morning. I stay out until three. Four was me pushing it.” He smiled, “see ya, guys!” He walked off down the hall.

1) Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers.

Bucky was in the corner, nervous and tense. There were people loitering all about, and talking with each other. It was filled from one wall to the next. Tony had insisted on a party to celebrate The Avengers, celebrating The Heroes. Bucky didn’t see himself as much of a hero, more like the guy who The Avengers had to take in.

Everything was too loud, too much, it clouded his ears. The lights were a bit too bright, but the loud footsteps and the louch clashing off pots from the kitchen were giving him a headache. He was about 10 steps away from said kitchen, and the scents were a bit too much for him.

Peter was suddenly in front of Bucky, as if sliding from the shadows, and asked softly, “what’s wrong?”

Bucky stared in shock, eyes wide. Where did he come from? Did he just appear from thin air? But, thinking about Peter having more powers gave him a headache, so he quickly squashed those thoughts.

“Just a lot of people,” whispered Bucky, shoulders up to his ears. He couldn’t help it, it was too much, and he felt on edge. Was it the fear that someone would attack them, or is it the fear that he will attack others? “And, call it a gut feeling, but something feels wrong.”

Bucky expected Peter to laugh at him, to wave off his concerns. But, to his shock, Peter blinked, and frowned, “okay. Okay... I’m keeping an ear out, alright? If there’s danger, I’ll let you know, and we can deal with it together.”

Bucky looked at Peter properly, and saw something in his eyes. Bucky was unsure what it was, but it was something that silently screamed Peter understood. “It’s so loud... there’s too many people. Peter — ”

“Can you listen?” Peter asked suddenly.

Bucky thumped his head against the wall, thoroughly annoyed with Peter’s advice. That wasn’t advice! That was pointing out the obvious! Bucky can only hear.

“No,” Peter said, interrupting Bucky’s spiral. “Really listen. Pick one sound and listen to that.” Peter kept talking, eyeing Bucky who was getting paler. “It’s okay if you still hear the others — but only listen to one.”

There were loud footsteps, the cutlery was ringing, the music was pounding, and the chattering was overlapping. A chef dropped a platter, causing a loud clatter, at the same time Peter cleared his throat.

"There’s a grandfather clock with a second hand that skips every third tick, just down the hall, about five minutes from here." Peter said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

What the fuck?

"I uh — I can’t go that far," Bucky stammered, surprised at Peter’s comment. Could the seventeen year old hear that far? How? How did he learn? He tried to pick out a noise, "but, there’s sizzling from a frying pan."

Peter tilted his head to the side, as if listening and then smiled. "In the kitchen."

"I guess so." Bucky closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose.

Peter backed away from him, just a few steps, and Bucky relaxed, feeling less crowded. "Tell me about it."

It took Bucky a few minutes to listen, the gasp of someone dropping a glass breaking his concentration. "It’s... a pan?" Bucky had no idea what Peter was trying to ask of him; it’s just a pan. Everyone knows what a pan is. And, the kid is a genius, that’s obvious! Even Thor would know, and Thor was lost on a lot of things.

"Is it stainless steel? Iron skillet? Copper?" Peter prompted, voice soft and patient. "What does the way it echoes sound like? Focus on it, Bucky."

"... iron skillet," he decided.

"Is the oil fresh, or dirty?"

Bucky was thinking, and tilted his head. He strained, trying to listen. How would he hear though? He sniffed slightly, smelling something salty, but it was new from the sound of the sizzling, "fresh."

"And how does the oil sound?"

Bucky listened, "first, it’s butter. And, it’s harsh and sharp?" It sounded much like high pitched, hissing and popping.

"Good." Peter smiled, "last question: what is being cooked in the pan."

Bucky tilted his head and looked at Peter confused. It sounded thick, and solid, but not hard. It sounded a bit jiggly. How was he meant to know what was being cooked? He turned his head, and eyed the food on the buffet table. Cheese, crackers, sandwiches, salad, shrimp, "steak!"

Peter nodded, and sat back against one of the tables. Bucky didn’t really register it, his head was still tilted, carefully listening. What else could he hear? Smell? After a few minutes, Peter asked, "how's your hearing?"

"Wha — ?" Bucky jerked his attention back to Peter, and his eyes widened. "How’d you learn to do that?" Asked the man in amazement. Everything was back to normal, a peaceful, background loud noise. His hearing will never be as good as Steve’s, what with him being given the knockoff serum, but his hearing was still higher than average.

“Daredevil,” Peter said, tone gentle. He sounded so fond, so calm and at ease. “When my senses kick into overdrive; when my senses said there was danger, when there wasn't any; when I could smell the burning meatloaf; and the laundry detergent next door; Daredevil and my Aunt May would spend hours lying on the ground next to me, trying to comfort me, one through something she didn’t understand, and one who did understand too well.” Peter reasoned, shrugging slightly, as if it was no big deal. As if, Peter hadn’t revealed the guy who sends people into comas was apparently one of the most gentle guys around. “Double D taught me how to bring myself back into the present...”

Bucky smiled, realising that this seventeen year old boy had just shared something extremely personal, “thank you. For helping me.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” assured Peter, waving a hand. “Look, there are no weapons allowed in here. But, I’ll keep an ear out.”

Bucky grinned, “thanks.” That did relax him, the kid could sense danger, better than he could.

Steve slid over to them, arm wrapping around Bucky gently, “hey. You okay, Bucky? You seem tense.”

“I was. But, Pete helped.” Smiled Bucky, and sipped his drink. Water. It tasted normal too, no longer did it feel dry, or heavy.

Steve looked to Peter, who had pulled out his phone. “Thank’s Peter.”

Peter looked up and smiled, “no problem.”

“How are you enjoying the party?” Asked Steve, making friendly conversation with Peter. It eased Bucky’s mind even more, lulling into a sense of nothingness almost, able to just move with the wind.

“Ugh,” groaned Peter. “I hate it, like why am I here?”

“Because, you deserve to be here,” Bucky reasoned, “you’re a hero.” That will never be a doubt in his mind. Peter is a hero, he looks out for the little guy, and helps the Avengers.

“No, I’m not a hero,” shrugged Peter, he sounded casual, but the sneer on his face was telling.

Bucky eyed Peter’s pressed black suit, and shiny black shoes, with a blue, plaid tie that he was sure Peter said belonged to his Uncle Ben.

“Nobody knows who I am, either,” reasoned Peter, gesturing with his glass.

“Doesn’t matter,” assured Bucky, waving a metal hand. Of course it didn’t, Peter was still a hero. “You are a hero.”

“Are you seriously making me have that stupid discussion again?” Asked Peter, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “I am not a hero, and most see me as a vigilante, but in my eyes, I’m just a guy who doesn’t like bullies and I have a great power, so I have a great responsibility; I’m just a guy doing what I think is right.”

“Still a hero,” insisted Steve.

Bucky could appreciate where Peter was coming from, but the fact of the matter is; Peter is a hero, not a vigilante. Sure, he’s friends with Daredevil, but he’s friends with more Avengers, he’s being trained by The Avengers and he works with The Avengers. Vigilantes work outside of the law, and some get violent, Peter doesn’t do that.

“Right,” sighed Peter, “well I...” He trailed off, eyes wide and his back straightened.

Bucky frowned, “Peter?” What was wrong with him? Suddenly, it hit him like the freight train he fell off of, “Spidey Sense.” He whispered under his breath, and his panic was about to come back in ten folds.

Steve went to reach out to Peter, who moved forward in front of Bucky, and lifted his left hand. Someone had thrown something at Bucky, the former assassin realised, and Peter, who had a beautiful lack of self preservation skills and a hero complex the size of the galaxy, automatically shielded Bucky, and tried to block it, gasping in surprise as a dagger stabbed straight through his arm.

A bit shocked, Peter lowered his arm, and automatically grasped the butt of the knife with his right hand.

Bucky stared, “Peter, don’t move everything is gonna be okay — ”

But, Peter seemed to be in trance. He pulled the dagger out quickly with a hiss of pain.

Steve hissed with him, “bud — ”

Looking in the direction the knife had come from, Peter saw a posh looking man that was clean cut, yet very muscular, with a slight darkness about him, hand still up after the throw.

He seemed to be a little bit surprised that a knife in the arm had not given a bigger reaction.

The surrounding area had fallen silent, guests of a random variety were watching in shock, staring at this boy who hadn’t even blinked.

Yeah, you and me both, Bucky thought, watching Peter.

“This is the problem with throwing your only weapon...” Peter addressed the man, glancing to the other guests as if teaching them a lesson in class, the red stained dagger in his hand, “you need to be damn sure you don't miss.”

The man stepped back, raising his hands and looking around for help, maybe a team. He must have realised he was alone, and he looked worried back at Peter, to the boy he had chosen to throw a knife at. “Um, look kid...”

“Because if you miss,” Peter continued, as if the man hadn’t said anything, as he stepped closer, a blank look on his face, “the other man has it.”

“I... I... didn't mean to...” The man started, before he decided to bolt from the teen.

Peter merely chuckled, and threw the knife. There was a satisfying gasp as the knife hit the bastard in the back and he fell to the ground writhing in pain.

The guests jumped and backed up, staring the unassuming boy down.

Bucky gaped and looked over at Peter in shock. What the fuck? What the actual fuck?! That’s Peter! Since when was he good at throwing knives? Did Natasha teach him? Clint? And, since when is he okay at maiming?

“I thought they checked everyone for weapons here.” Whispered Steve in horror, eyeing the knife, pale.

“Apparently not,” Peter drawled as he picked up his forgotten drink of water, and downing it in one gulp.

Steve reached out to have a look at the bleeding forearm, but was shaken off. “Come on, Peter... you’re bleeding pretty bad.”

Peter rolled his eyes, as if it was a mere inconvenience and picked up a large white napkin from the table, tying it around his arm and showed the makeshift bandage to the two with a bored, “happy now, Captain Rogers?” 

“Not really, no.” Steve said, boring holes into Peter’s skull.

Peter merely stared back at Steve and Bucky, “we speak nothing of this to Mr. Stark, deal Sergeant Barnes?”

Bucky thought that was fair, given the fact Peter just saved his life, “deal.”

2) Sam, T’Challa and Rhodes

It was a little team exercise. Nothing too big. It was on the lower end of the Avengers Priorities. Sam, T’Challa and Rhodes had agreed upon working together, to see if they could do this without any help, and to also hang out with T’Challa, who didn’t visit as much as they wished.

They were looking for a male, white, about six foot. He was balding with faint wispy grey hair, with a long nose, blue eyes, and was severely overweight, nearing sixty. It was a simple park, with kids all around, and the guy was apparently a paedophile. Callum Thompson, the file said his name was.

Like they said, he wasn’t a big blip on their radar, but as said; team exercise.

They had come in disguise; T’Challa in stereotypical clothing from Wakanda, a long sleeved black Ankara, with silver emblems around the neck and long black pants and brown sandals; Rhodes was in a loose, long sleeved grey shirt, and loose pants that covered his leg braces, with black shoes, and wore a hat and sunglasses; then finally was Sam, wearing a red, short sleeved shirt and blue jeans, with trainers and a hat and sunglasses.

“See our guy yet?” Asked T’Challa, back straight.

“No,” sighed Sam, looking around.

Rhodes tapped his foot, “maybe we should have, I don’t know... sat on separate benches, seems a bit weird for three guys to just be here.”

“Yeah, well — ”

“What are you guys doing here?” Came a teenage voice, making the three jump and turn. There stood...

“Peter,” sighed Sam, relaxing. No, the brat didn’t scare him - okay, maybe just a little bit. “What are you doing here?” He asked, noting the boy wasn’t in uniform, but instead in a science pun shirt, with a jacket, blue jeans and sunglasses, and a hat.

“Same as you, I’m guessing.” Peter mused, eyeing the three, taking a seat next to Sam casually. “Or well, I heard at least.”

“Heard?” Asked Rhodes, confused.

“The walls are thin at the Compound,” smirked Peter, calmly. “That, and you are in Queens; I don’t remember giving you permission to be here.”

“We don’t need permission,” scoffed Sam. Permission? What’s this kid on about? If they needed permission it’d be from Director Fury, (or the UN for Rhodes since the Accords were in an iffy place, but most ignored it).

“We kind of do, and we did get it from Director Fury,” T’Challa assured, looking at Peter. That was enough permission.

Scoffing, Peter looked forward, his arms crossing, “congrats, you’re thinking like Avengers. But, Queens is mine, this is my city, and I haven’t given you permission to be here.” He said, voice a bit deeper and slightly gravelly, and Sam would deny it to his grave that he felt threatened. “Callum Thompson, right?”

“Right,” hummed Rhodes, desperately holding back a shiver that wanted to creep down his spine.

Peter kicked his leg up, crossing it over his other leg, and hummed, “right. Here’s the plan; Mr. Wilson go hide, you’re the threatening one here. Colonel Rhodes, do you have a wheelchair?”

“What? On me?” Asked Rhodes confused, looking over to the boy. What’s this kid playing at? “Yeah, in my back pocket — no of course not!” He whisper-hissed.

Peter raised a calm eyebrow. He pulled out a phone and began typing, and muttering under his breath, (reciting what he was typing), “hey Wade, need a wheelchair like yesterday. Queens. 34th and 56th. Queensbridge Park. And, send.” He looked to the others, “five minutes.” He said, fingers showing five.

T’Challa knew Peter was smart, but he wasn’t following. He frowned, “Peter, what are we doing? What’s happening? Why does James need a wheelchair?”

“Well, your majesty,” Peter bowed his head, respectfully. “Because, you and Colonel Rhodes are gonna pretend to be my gay Dad’s, and Sam is gonna hide. I mean; one paraplegic father and another who speaks broken English isn’t much of a threat. And, I look about fourteen on a good day, which is Thompson’s age range for picking kids.”

His phone buzzed suddenly, and he looked down at it with a pleasant smile. He opened the messages, and suddenly his smile turned feral in a second, “if you have com's use ‘em. I’ll be back in a second, Colonel Rhodes - come with me.” He stood without waiting, walking off.

“Who’s Wade?” Asked T’Challa, watching as Rhodes followed the boy with hesitation and confusion. Surely, he wasn’t the only one lost? Yes, it’s true Peter wasn’t like the rest of the Avengers, and yes the boy hung around other “vigilantes”, but who is Wade? Has there ever been mention of a Wade? At that thought, T’Challa voiced it out loud.

“Uh, no,” said Sam, seriously thinking. He couldn’t think of one instance where a “Wade” was brought up. “I know about Daredevil; he’s Peter’s first friend. The second is Jessica and I guess Clint? But, Wade? Don’t know a Wade.” Sam knew more of Peter’s friends than Tony did, purely because Tony was too disconnected from Peter’s vigilante life. And, sometimes Peter gets so excited about certain things he just had to share.

“Jessica Jones?” Asked T’Challa in shock. So, the guy who makes people vegetables, and the woman who is an alcoholic. And Clint.

“Yeah man, kid swings around,” joked Sam.

Meanwhile, Rhodes and Peter rounded a corner and froze. There in the darkness, shrouded by shadows, was a man in a shirt, with a skull and large jacket covering guns. And, there was a cute dog next to him.

“I messaged Wade, not you Frank,” mused Peter, smiling. 

“Well, ya got me kid,” came “Frank’s” gargled voice.

Fuck no, thought Rhodes in distressed. “I-I’m sorry, i-is that The Punisher?” Please, let it be some fucked up hallucination.

“Yep,” smiled Peter, as if there wasn't a mass terrorist in front of them. Instead, he began to happily pet the dog, and muttering about how “cute you are Max, yes you are, yes you are!”, and itched just behind its ears.

“But, I did ask for Wade,” Peter said, looking up to Frank in confusion.

Don’t say that, you’ll just piss him off! Rhodes thought, a tad bit hysterically.

“Yeah, and he got it for you. But, I was closer, figured you wouldn’t mind if I drove in on behalf of Wade.” Frank said, and suddenly held his hands up, “that being said, ‘m leavin’.”

Rhodes blinked, because; holy shit. The fucking Punisher looked nervous. He looked tense and worried that Peter would do something. W-was Peter that territorial over Queens? From the way The Punisher held himself; shoulders tense, eyes never leaving Peter; it sure seemed that way!

“Nah, if you got business I’ll turn a blind eye. Just leave a Mr. Callum Thompson to me and the others.” Peter said with a shrug and a smile.

Frank grinned, “you got it, kid. Good luck.”

That grin does not belong on his face, thought Rhodes, eyes wide. He seemed so normal, like any other guy, almost like Bucky.

“Thanks!” Smiled Peter, giving one last pet.

Frank nodded and walked away, disappearing into darkness almost, with Max following.

“Kid, you’re friends with The Punisher,” stressed Rhodes, scrubbing his hand down his face.

Peter nodded and shrugged, “yep. He was the second friend I made in this line of work.”

“Yeah, it’s clear he’s your friend if he knows who you are. And, you aren’t calling him “Mr. Castle”,” said Rhodes. Peter did that with everyone; he used titles out of respect, “Mr. Stark”, “Dr. Banner”, “Colonel Rhodes”, “Sergeant Barnes”, but never has Peter used their first names.

Peter blinked and smiled, “it reminds him too much of the Marines. And, he’s my friend and he gained my trust and I have his.”

Rhodes blinked, back straightening slightly at that. Peter’s happy and obvious voice filled his mind, swirling tauntingly; he gained my trust and I have his. What the...? D-does the kid not trust us? Have we not gained it?

“Let’s go!” Continued Peter, as if he hadn’t just made Rhodes rethink his entire life. “Sit in the wheelchair, and I’ll push you out.”

Rhodes silently fell onto the chair, limp, “okay...”

“Let’s go!” Peter pushed the chair forward, and walked on.

Sam eyed Rhodes and Peter who were walking over, and stood up. “Give a com to James and Peter, I’ll be over there,” he waved vaguely in the direction of a bench, walking off. Rhodes looked shell shocked, and it made Sam a bit nervous; what happened?

Peter set Rhodes next to T’Challa, who silently watched Rhodes in worry, handing over two com's.

Taking it silently, Rhodes shook his head at T’Challa’s concerned look, and watched Peter push his com in.

Peter took off his glasses, hat and jacket, and sat. “Right, I’m gonna get a coffee, and when he comes I’m gonna accidentally spill it on him. I’m gonna be all apologetic, and hopefully he falls for it. If he does, I’ll point to Colonel Rhodes and T’Challa to say you’re my Dad’s. Then, I’ll come and ask for permission. Story is, you two have shopping to do. Track my phone, and follow after me ten minutes later.” He grinned, “understand?”

“You’ve really thought this out.” Hummed T’Challa, eyeing Peter warily. What was this kid doing in his spare time?

Peter’s grin turned feral, “yeah. I have.” He pulled out the com, and handed it to T’Challa.

Rhodes watched Peter, who perked suddenly. “What?”

“Callum coming up in twelve. Getting coffee.” Peter stood and walked off with ease.

Rhodes breathed out, seeing Peter walk away. He doesn’t trust us.

“So, who’s Wade?” Asked T’Challa, looking to Rhodes. It had been on his mind since bringing it up with Sam, and hopefully Rhodes saw who “Wade” was.

Rhodes shrugged, “no idea. Wade didn’t show up... The Punisher did.”

“What?” Sam gaped, his voice coloured in disbelief. No. Surely not. The Punisher is a terrorist and a criminal, and Peter’s just hanging around him?

“Apparently, The Punisher was Peter’s second friend in all this,” Rhodes said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I don’t think Peter trusts us.”

“Why not? Aren’t you his team?” Asked T’Challa. It made no sense; why wouldn’t Peter trust The Avengers? The boy works in the team well, and he has their backs and they have his, surely that warrants trust? Not to mention, Tony really loves the kid.

“I don’t know why, I just... know. He calls The Punisher Frank, no Mr, no Sir, no nothing, just Frank! And, The Punisher knows Pete’s identity. And he said, and I quote, “he gained my trust and I have his”!” Rhodes stressed, dragging his hands down his cheeks.

Sam’s voice came through the com's, tense, “heads up, Peter’s spotted Callum.” He couldn’t believe he was thankful a paedophile had appeared, and Peter was interacting with him. Just thinking about Peter being friendly with Frank Castle, The Punisher, a terrorist and a murder, was a sickening thought. And, Peter trusting The Punisher more than The Avengers was a terrible feeling. Why did Peter trust Castle and not them? What did The Punisher do to gain Peter’s trust, for Peter to be able to call the man “Frank”?

Rhodes glanced over and glared slightly behind his glasses. “Gross,” sneered War Machine, seeing Peter all flustered, and apologising profusely to Callum Thompson, trying to clear off the burning coffee from the guy's white shirt.

Thompson was trying to calm the boy down, smiling and cooing over him. Peter looked like he was calming down, and smiling, relaxing.

T’Challa took off his sunglasses, and wrapped an arm around Rhodes, much to the man’s discomfort, but leaned into T’Challa. Right, they had a part to play, Peter’s gay Dad’s.

“Can you see?” Asked Rhodes, smiling up at T’Challa.

T’Challa smiled back and nodded, “yes. Peter’s pointing to us, and is currently walking over.”

“Who, Thompson or Peter?” Asked Sam through the com's.

“Peter,” answered T’Challa.

Said boy was in front of them with a smile, “I think I’m gonna drown him. Ten minutes, remember? Smile, and nod.”

Rhodes obliged, and nodded with a smile, “you don’t drown people.”

“Double D would be proud of me,” reasoned Peter, with a smile.

T’Challa smiled back, “but we wouldn’t. Be safe.”

“Fair warning, if you don’t make it in time, I’m gonna nearly kill him.” Peter warned, as he hugged the two, “see you in ten.” He turned around and walked away, waving to the two.

Sam sneered, watching Peter and Thompson walk off, the elder running his fat fingers through the boys brown soft curls. “He’s walking away,” said Sam, pulling out his phone. “Tracking them now.”

Rhodes looked to T’Challa, “how bad was it?”

“Sickening,” reasoned T’Challa, shaking his head. “I have no idea how Peter could look Thompson in the eyes, and play the part of a naive teenage boy.”

Rhodes pinched the bridge of his nose, “ten minutes. That’s all. Ten minutes.”

“I don’t know if I can wait ten minutes,” Sam said, tapping his foot.

“Five minutes,” Rhodes said, cracking his fingers. “We’ll go in five minutes.” He pulled at his fingers.

Peter was like Tony in a lot of ways. He was a genius, a nerd, and an orphan on all accounts. If this was Tony, what would he do about all of this? If that was a teenage Tony, he’d... have been recording and secretly called the cops. He’d have used a sly tongue to get out of the situation.

Peter didn’t have that sort of charm. 

“Peter’s moved down a back alley,” Sam said, voice tense, breath catching.

T’Challa stood, “yeah, no let’s go.”

Rhodes stood, abandoning the wheelchair, and ran off. T’Challa was right behind him, with Sam following close behind with his phone out. Was Peter okay? Small, little Peter, a teenager, orphaned, alone, with a paedophile, down a back alley, without help or back up. They said ten minutes, they left five minutes early. Would they make it in time? Would they save Peter before Thompson did something terrible?

Why didn’t they stop hin? He’s just a kid. They should have stopped him, should have saved him, oh fucking god — !

They turned the corner down the back alleyway, where Peter’s phone stopped. They expected to see something gruesome, of Thompson feeling the teenager up, and the boy to have possibly frozen up, or hopefully fighting back, but this? This wasn’t that.

Thompson was pinned against the wall, and Peter was wailing on him. Thompson’s face was all bloody, nose broken, and smashed in, jaw disfigured and broken, teeth splayed out on the floor, and blood splattered all over the wall, and two swollen, black eyes.

“Peter!” Gaped Rhodes, heart dropping to his stomach. Jesus fuck, thought the man in horror.

Sam stared, “i-is Peter gonna kill him?” His stomach churned, watching as Peter didn’t let up.

T’Challa swallowed, “n-no?” Though, he was unsure; Peter didn’t look like he was going to stop anytime soon.

“NEVER. TOUCH. KIDS. AGAIN.” Roared Peter, slamming his fist into the man’s face each time. Suddenly, the man went down, limp and Peter backed up, chest heaving. He tilted his head, “damn, he’s still alive.”

Rhodes thought back to The Punisher quickly, of the casual way they talked, and the way Peter and The Punisher trusted each other. And, suddenly he remembered; Peter hung out with Daredevil.

The way Peter held himself, with bloody, split open knuckles, and panting with large muscles, tense and jaw set. It was like he was a real fighter. He looked over at them, “what? What are you staring at?”

“You, Peter,” Sam started, eyeing the boy as if he’d never seen him before. “What was that?”

“That was me beating up a paedophile; I thought it was obvious.” Reasoned Peter, shrugging as his knuckles slowly healed in front of their eyes. The skin was stitching itself together, and Peter let his fists relax. “I’m currently not in uniform, so I can get away with it. But, even when I am in uniform, I hit them the hardest.”

Sam moved forward; Peter’s a hero. Not someone who beats up people. Even if they are paedophiles. “Peter, back up man.”

Peter blinked, “what? Dude, I’m not gonna kill him!” He said, horrified, nose scrunched up and sneering. “Just beat ‘em into a coma.” He smiled suddenly, “I do it all the time.”

“But, that...” T’Challa stared at the man, feeling sick and a bit woozy. “Why?”

He was a paedophile yes, but this was different. Why beat him until near death?

Peter’s smile fell, feral or genuine, his sneer wasn’t there, his horror gone, and a blank gase fell in his eyes, lips straight, and his entire face slack. He looked conflicted for a moment.

“Peter?” Asked Sam, calmly. He couldn’t fathom why Peter would beat someone into a coma.

“We all have terrible backstories,” mumbled Peter. “Us vigilantes I mean.” He sighed and seemed to go slack. “I was seven, and he was sixteen, turning seventeen.”

T’Challa, Sam and Rhodes went slack. Oh. No, not Peter... please, not Peter Parker.

“We speak nothing of this, and we don’t bring it up...” Peter trailed off, swallowing back saliva. And, possibly vomit.

“Was the guy put away?” Asked Rhodes, a protective feeling coating his chest.

“Yeah, was,” Peter said, stressing the word “was”. “He got out when he turned twenty one. I was eleven.” He frowned, “I told uh. I told my friends, when I met them at the age of fifteen - after homecoming.” He took a deep breath, focusing on his story, “Daredevil broke each of his fingers, and Deadpool shot him in the head. Delivered him on a silver platter.”

Deadpool too? Rhodes thought in shock, eyes wide.

Peter shrugged, “like I said; let’s not talk about it.” He crossed his arms, “I beat the shit out of paedophiles for that personal reason. Welcome to the real world.”

Welcome to the real world, huh? That’s a bit harsh, but that seems true though from the looks of Thompson, from the sound of Peter’s story.

Peter stared them down, an impassive look on his face, “don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

3) Wanda, Vision and Natasha

Vision was shooting at any stray robot that got too close, choosing to use his powers on objects of mass destruction rather than living people; even if they were Hydra. He stood on a rooftop, with Wanda to his back, her fingers moving and twisting, as she shot magic streams at any Agents that got too close.

Hydra had decided to attack with their newest weapon; it had been a leftover energy source from The Tesseract which had been kept, harnessed, improved and used; thus the robots.

The brains of this operation was a doctor; Doctor Konstantin Sidorov. He was a young Russian man, with slicked back black hair, and dark brown eyes with gaunt white skin. Where he was, they had no idea, but what was known was that the power source never left his hands. So, until The Avengers got it back, there would be no stopping it.

“Uh, did you guys say the guy behind this was young? Black hair? Skeleton like?” Came Peter Parker’s voice over the com's, Spider-Man, the youngest person here.

“Yes, have you found him?” Came Steve Rogers voice, Captain America, the leader of The Avengers.

Something changed in Peter’s voice suddenly, he sounded less playful and more serious, hard and tense. “29th and 7th, between The Dollar Store and Pizza Slice. Smells of cigar smoke, and old pennies, hearts weak, skips a beat, and lungs choked and full of tar. Hungry, hasn’t eaten in the last twenty four hours, and currently living off caffeine, a bit of whiskey and water.”

Vision blinked, the energy from the stone in his head faltering. Peter had rattled it off like it was second nature, like it was nothing, listing off a grocery list. How could Peter even hear all that? And, did he say “smell”?

“I’m on it Cap,” assured Peter.

“No, I’ll send Sam over,” Steve said, tone stern. “Stick to saving civilians.”

Peter sighed, “yes sir.”

Vision frowned, it sounded like Peter could have handled it. But, then again, Peter is the youngest. Understandable.

There was a sharp gasp, and Vision turned, seeing Wanda frozen as a Hydra Agent had grabbed her arm. Her eyes were wide, her body slack and her face pale, shaking. Her eyes filled with tears, and Vision frowned. All this Agent was doing was touching Wanda.

There was a sharp gun sound, and the Agent went down. Vision looked over, seeing Natasha climbing up on the rooftop and rushing to them.

“What is happening?” Asked Vision, confused as he looked to Natasha for guidance. He glanced around, noting there were less robots and Agents.

“Wanda’s going into a flashback, or shock,” Natasha said, as she took hold of Wanda’s shoulders, forcing her down, “Wanda, can you hear me?”

Wanda let out a sobbed noise of distress, and tore herself away from Natasha, “Нет, не трогай меня!"

Frowning, Natasha looked to Vision, “Vision, focus on keeping the enemies away, while I focus on Wanda.”

Vision nodded, he could do that, even though the screams and sobs of his beloved tore apart his nonexistent heart. He raised up, allowing the stone in his head to consume him, the anger he felt was multiplied, and it hurt — 

“I got it!” Came a young voice, and Vision realised it was Spider-Man.

The teenager landed in a crouch between Hydra and Vision, facing the enemy, and turned to Vision, his voice serious much like before. “Take care of Wanda, I got these clowns.” He cracked his knuckles and neck, and looked to the crowd of robots and agents.

“Spider-Man, I don’t think it wise allowing you to fight them alone,” Vision said, conflicted. He wanted nothing more than to move over to Wanda and hold her, to calm her down, her cries distracting him. But, Spider-Man was the youngest, and there are too many, it’s an unfair advantage given to Hydra, pinned against Peter.

“Right now your girlfriend is having a PTSD induced panic attack,” Peter said knowingly. “You need to calm her down before she becomes a danger to herself, and others if she decides she feels threatened.”

Well, Vision couldn’t argue with that. Nor did he have time to question how Peter knew what Wanda was dealing with. “Very well,” nodded Vision, floating over to Wanda. He landed, and knelt.

Wanda was curled up, her back pressed against the dirty wall, and her knees to her chest, and arms wrapped around them, her face buried in said knees. She was terrified. She was muttering in Sokovian, and there were tear tracks racing down her face.

The sounds of Peter fighting had fallen into the background, like white noise, and all Vision could focus on was his crying girlfriend and Natasha, who was whispering “it’s okay” repeatedly.

Moving forward, Vision gently held Wanda, who seemed to try and shrink back. “Now, now, my love. It’s only me, Vision. Your boyfriend.”

But, still she thrashed in his hold.

Vision didn’t know how to calm her, and looked to Natasha, “what do we do?”

“I don’t know, she’s not responding to anything,” shrugged Natasha, thinking. She tried to remember all the conversations Sam had given them, since he was the designated Therapist. At the time they seemed silly, and nobody had listened, but looking back on it, it seemed less stupid now.

Natasha tried to think who had listened, and remembered Peter. The youngest of The Avengers. He had been sitting next to Tony, patient as ever, fingers intertwined in front of him, and had given Sam his undivided attention. A few times he picked up a blue ballpoint pen, and wrote down a few notes in his small, Spider-Man themed notebook.

Was Natasha’s (at the time; bored) memories playing tricks on her, or did Peter contribute a few techniques as well, offering advice. Did Sam ever take the advice to see if it worked? She had no idea. Maybe she’s making it up; after all PTSD, panic and anxiety attacks, they were quiet adult, and hard to stomach and calm down. Peter is just a child.

A child who swung around New York, hung around a few vigilantes and was friendly with The Avengers, but a child nonetheless.

“How’s it going?” Tony asked through the com's.

Natasha pressed down on the earpiece, “Wanda is down. Vision and I are with her, and Spider-Man has our backs.”

“Does he need help?” Tony asked, voice tinged in panic and worry.

Peter scoffed, “no, this is an average solo Monday for me.”

The “solo” word was stressed, and emphasised on, as if saying this whole fight was a walk in the park, and Peter could handle it without help. It was like he was threatening Tony, telling him if you come, I’m gonna beat you up.

“Yeah, but Spidey — ” Tony tried, desperate and worried.

“Stark, I can handle this!” Snapped Peter, and he sounded angry, and pissed off.

Natasha nor Vision, or really anyone, had heard Peter snap at someone. Not even thugs, and bad guys, not even aliens, he was so polite, and sounded putout sometimes, but not angry. Not pissed off. Not like he was about to lose his shit, and beat Tony up.

“If he can’t Tony, I’ll step in,” promised Vision. After all, it was bringing up some conflicted feelings.

“Well, you don’t have to, because I just finished!”

Vision looked up, away from a shaking Wanda, to see Peter stood in the middle of a sea of broken robots, and beaten Agents. Victorious.

“Spidey signing off,” Peter said, turning off the coms, ignoring the protests of the others.

The boy's attention turned to Vision, Natasha and Wanda. He walked over, and knelt opposite Wanda, giving her space. “Mr. Vision let go of her, Mrs. Romanova, Mr. Vision please back up and let Ms. Maximoff breathe.”

Vision didn’t want to, he wanted to hold onto her and never let her go. But, Peter’s voice was firm and calm, and Vision did want Wanda to calm down. So reluctantly, Vision let her go, and he and Natasha moved away.

Peter didn’t move. He just watched Wanda for a moment, watched as her breathing was laboured, and strained, the salty tears falling fast, and her sobs shaking her chest.

“Hey, your name is Wanda Maximoff,” Peter started, voice firm and steady. Calm, and patient, yet a bit loud due to the fighting noises in the distance. “You’re The Scarlet Witch, and you’re from Sokovia. You are currently sitting on a rooftop in Brooklyn between 56th and 87th, it’s three in the afternoon, and you are not alone. I am Peter Parker, also known as Spider-Man, I’m from Queens, and I’m your teammate. There is also Vision, your boyfriend, who is a humanoid android, and Natasha Romanoff, also known as The Black Widow, she’s from the Soviet Union, and is your friend. She was with Hydra, like you, but escaped, like you.

“The date is Monday, June 1st, 2025. It’s been a year after the battle with Thanos, and we won. It’s been eleven years since you were last in Hydra, and you escaped. It’s currently cloudy out, they’re a light grey, with a ten percent chance of rain, but it’s rather humid still, with no winds. Your friends, The Avengers, are currently fighting bad guys, who aren’t here with you.”

And so, Peter repeated what he was saying again. And again, and one more time, before Wanda looked up from her knees.

She had finally registered what was being said, and eyed the boy in front of her. He still had his mask on, but he was sitting at a distance. “P-pe-peter...” She gasped, air entering her throat and lungs in a cold, sharp, stabbing pain.

“Hey Wanda,” nodded Peter. “I need you to do me a favour; I need you to name five things you can see.”

Five things I can see? Thought Wanda, as her eyes frantically danced around. Think logically...

“You,” she said, “uh, V-Vision, N-Natasha,” that’s three. Two more... “Uh... th-the clouds, and uh, the cement... roof?”

“Good,” nodded Peter. “Can you name four things you can touch?”

Wanda frowned, and her hands went out, unable to think. “My coat,” she said, her fingers crinkling the leather. “The gravel,” she felt the roof, which was gravelly, and rubbed her fingertips down. “Uh...” She looked around, and paused, seeing Peter’s hand out. It was welcoming, but he kept it back still. He was inviting her, yet not pressuring. She took his hand, feeling the thick spandex and black ridges - right he recently changed his uniform, fitting in more with the vigilante side rather than the hero side. “Your hand, and uh... your suit?” Was that a cheap shot?

“Great. What’s three things you can hear?” Asked Peter calmly.

“You,” Wanda said, automatically. “Uh, the fighting.” She said, hearing the punches and breaking of bones and metal. “And uh...” What else? There was nothing else, how could there be? “Uh... oh! The fluttering of a bird!” She said, hearing the faint wings batting from a flying bird.

“Right!” Smiled Peter, “now two things you can smell?”

“Burning,” she said, smelling the burning from a few broken robots. “And, uh your suit.” She said, sniffing slightly. Peter’s suit had a certain spell, of dyes and web fluid, it was hard to describe, but he had a scent. Probably because the suit was new.

“My suit is a weird one, but okay,” mused Peter. “Now, one thing you can taste?”

Wanda frowned, and stuck her tongue out, hoping to grasp something when she tasted, oh... “my tears.”

She was more coherent now, and noticed Vision and Natasha watching her and Peter with surprise and confusion. “Wh-what...?” She asked, her breathing ragged still, coming down from her attack.

“Wanda,” said Peter, gaining her attention. “I need you to breathe in for four seconds through your nose.” He said, and Wanda didn’t question, just did.

She counted silently, but realised Peter was counting verbally.

“Hold for seven seconds,” Peter said, before counting again, and Wanda held her breath, as instructed, “and exhaled for eight seconds out your mouth.” Again, he counted and she let her breath out, relaxing and loosening.

“Repeat,” Peter said gently, and began again.

Her breathing evened out, and she began unwinding, relaxing until Tony’s voice came in through the com's.

“Shit, the doc got away in a car! He’s heading your way Vision, Wanda, Nat!”

The sound of a car driving entered their ears, and Peter merely looked up from the wall. None of them could catch it in time, as the doc had already turned a corner.

Wanda slouched, “I’m so sorry...” She whispered, and held herself, “I had a panic attack, it’s my fault, I — ”

“It is not your fault,” warned Peter, shaking his head. “I can’t stand warehouses, and fuck trains.” He said, seriously. “Now, calm down, and let’s meet with the others. We’ll get him next time.”

Vision saw Peter hold Wanda’s hand out to him, and Vision took it, helping her up. She fell into his arms, and he caught her, shooting Peter and Natasha a worried look.

Peter waved the worry off, “she’s tired, and thirsty, needs a bit of food, painkillers, and sleep. Probably feels a bit sick too.”

Natasha looked at Peter confused, “how did you know what to do? And, how are you so sure that’s what she’s feeling now?”

“It’s how myself, and others feel when we have them; I do come across a few on patrol. And, I calm down rape victims all the time,” Peter shrugged, making the three pause.

Wanda looked over, “rape victims?”

“Well, yeah.” Nodded Peter, “it’s common on patrol. The guy touched you, and it triggered a flashback.” Shrugged the boy, and slouched, “are you okay, Wanda?”

Wanda hesitated. Is she? Yes. She nodded. She felt okay actually, as she realised Peter knew how to ground someone.

“Jeez,” came Bucky’s voice, making the group look up to see; Tony, Rhodes, Steve, Sam, Bucky, Clint and Thor, (Bruce had firmly said it was not a “Hulk Needed Mission”). “What happened to that guy?” He asked, jabbing a metal thumb to a Hydra Agent.

They turned, and Natasha turned a bit white, seeing the guy's face smashed in a bunch of times. His jaw was broken, his lips split, and nose bent horribly, and split, while his eyes were swollen shut, and bleeding from his head.

Wanda swallowed, “did... did I...?” He was unrecognisable.

“Maybe I did?” Mumbled Vision, “the stone really did gear up and I could have...?”

Peter scoffed, “it’s not like I killed him.” He said with ease, making everyone look at him in shock. He turned to them, and frowned, “what? That’s the bastard who grabbed Wanda, and made her go into that panic attack! I just put him in a coma,” shrugged the teenager. “If I wanted him dead, he’d be dead.”

Natasha, Vision and Wanda stared at Peter, confused and shocked. What the fuck...? Rhodes and Sam didn’t look bothered, or well, they did but not shocked, and Steve and Bucky didn’t seem surprised. Tony was laughing, as if he didn’t believe it, while Thor just nodded.

Peter shook his head, “anyway, the doc...?”

“Yeah, drove off,” sighed Tony, and Wanda realised; Tony didn’t believe Peter beat the guy black, blue and red. “No idea what car, the plate, nothing.”

“It was a black Chevrolet, 2022 Malibu sedan; 29/36 MPG city/highway and 15.7 CU.FT. Max cargo. Max available horsepower is 250.” Peter prattled off without missing a beat, “good engine, but the back left tire is a bit flat, while the exhaust pipe rattles and gives off smoke, and the back left light is busted. Plate number is K8A-1BG.” He pointed, “took a left down 56th and 9th, and drove for five minutes, turned right, drove for ten, then left, and drove for three. Lost him after that, so check surveillance footage.” He shrugged, “the car’s his I think, couldn’t smell any hot-wiring, and I could hear the keys jingle.” He turned to the group, “does that help?”

“How did you know that?” Asked Natasha, “we got up and looked, you glanced.”

“I looked into the window of the opposite building, since the reflection for the car showed up on it...” Said Peter, confused, “why is that so shocking?”

“Because, that was a second... and hearing and — ” Continued Wanda, waving a hand.

“Wanda, I’m Spider-Man,” Peter said, sternly. “It’s what I do, and I’m fucking good at it.” Nodded the teenager, “I’m just not good at the life part.”

4) Tony, Bruce and Thor

Everything had gone to shit. Quick.

Peter had gone out on a mission with Thor, the God of Thunder, Dr. Bruce Banner, The Hulk, and Tony Stark, Iron Man.

And, currently Tony felt like shit. It was his plan, and he fucked up, massively.

It was a Hydra Base, the same one that Doctor Konstantin Sidorov had worked in, with left over traces of Tesseract Magic. You’d think Doctor Sidorov would have ran, and left the place, but no Doctor Sidorov was a fucking idiot who ran back to the Hydra Base, hiding behind Agents and Robots.

Tony hadn’t expected that play, he had thought it was a mainly empty Hydra Base that Fury had wanted him to scope out. The plan was to go in with a team, and get clues, and plans, and possibly destroy the place, and maybe save some prisoners. With Bruce and Thor were back on Earth, had been for a while now, and he wanted to spend time with them, and he wanted to spend time with his kid, so he invited all three.

And, maybe... just maybe... he wanted to show Peter that he was a hero, not a vigilante. Peter always sneered at the word “hero”, as if it was poison, as if it was an insult. It was disheartening to Tony, it hurt. It was painful to hear Peter say he was a “vigilante”. Well no, correction; Peter doesn’t say that. Peter says; “I don’t really consider myself a hero, but I don’t consider myself a vigilante either, however I use it to get to the point quicker, and it's something others see me as since I work outside of the law, and I keep my face hidden. But, in my mind, I’m just a guy doing what I can to help people”.

But, Tony wanted people to stop seeing Peter as a vigilante. The boy was trying to be more intimidating, after all, the kid didn’t seriously beat up that Agent. Wanda must have lost control, or Vision must have gotten angry. Totally fine and normal. Not Peter beating the guy up. Peter had to have lied, fibbed, trying to make himself seem more dangerous than he was, or trying to keep Wanda and Vision safe, even though Peter didn’t need to.

Tony knew Peter, and Peter wasn’t dangerous. He was a teenager, who lost his entire family, and going through a rebellious stage.

However, if you asked Thor, he would say Peter was probably the most dangerous member on the team. He was a terrifying force to be reckoned with, with a dark, murderous intent in his eyes if he was pushed too far. Peter was a worthy warrior, and a monster.

He’s seen Peter in action, in fights and planning. He’s seen Peter, he’s seen Spider-Man, he’s seen him with The Avengers, and he awaits the day the boy loses his cool, and punches someone in the face, killing them.

The God could see a deep, dark anger in the boys eyes. He could see through the tense muscles, and large arms, he could see through Peter’s clenched fists, and straight back. He could see through Peter’s calloused knuckles that never fully healed, nor went back to baby smooth, he saw it in those used to be doughy eyes, now a dark glare.

Thor knew the truth; Peter was fucking terrifying and was a vigilante, but he was still a hero, and probably was just trying to find the right side, and position. (Hopefully theirs, they would never win if Peter turned evil.)

Bruce thought Peter was a genius, in his mind it was no secret. The boy was clever, a whiz, smart. He was the best. And, while Thor had voiced his thoughts to him privately, Bruce had gently disagreed.

Peter was a real sweetheart. He helped little old ladies cross the road, he got cats from trees, and did back-flips for fans. He wasn’t dangerous, nor murderous. He was gentle, and lovely. Not angry.

The boy had smooth lines, and gentle hands that would fluff up every dog's fur, and scratch behind cats ears, his eyes were welcoming and friendly, and Hulk always felt calm around him.

He was like an excitable puppy, trying to please everyone and learn everything. He jumped around with a lot of energy, and spoke in vines and memes with Shuri from Wakanda. He hung around his best friend and built Lego's, and took his girlfriend out for dates to murder sights.

Peter wasn’t rebellious, nor dangerous. He just liked to help everyone, he didn’t like to inconvenience people; that’s not so strange, especially not for people like Peter, who was a rare case.

But, this was where Tony fucked up, and the three saw Peter how they perceived him; rebellious, dangerous, and sweet.

The plan had been to scope the area out, and for Hulk to come out if it got dangerous, and for Peter to remain in the background and watch, and for Tony and Thor to collect anything that might be needed.

That didn’t happen.

“He’s getting away,” Thor yelled, eyeing Doctor Sidorov who was running to an opening, which seemed to lead to an office.

Tony looked up from his position, too far away from the office, “shit.”

Hulk was currently out, the robots were larger than expected, and Hulk was the perfect body and size to deal with them. Thor was currently taking down the robots of normal size, and Tony was making his way over while fighting the Agents. And Peter —

“Going after him!” Peter called, loudly, as he didn’t have his com's on, (for some reason - Tony needed to talk to him about that). He swung over to the office, much to Tony’s shock.

“Spider-Man, no!” Yelled the billionaire, but Peter didn’t listen.

They couldn’t see what happened, but all they heard was a loud explosion, of something hitting the wall, which cracked and splintered. The building had shook with the force, and the two men watched in horror as the ceiling in the office collapsed in a heap of grey concrete.

Tony’s eyes widened, and his heart dropped in horror. Agents and Robots ran, and fled. It was a good idea to run for them, since Tony and Thor were now distracted.

“Spider-Man!” Yelled Tony, rushing over. He pressed down on his com's, “Spidey? Can you hear me?” He asked, voice choked and worried, tearing up.

Suddenly, the com's switched on, “Mr. Stark?” Peter’s choked voice came through, full of dust and rubble.

“What were you doing?!” Tony snapped, terrified. “Thor, we need to get him out — ”

“I can get out myself,” assured Peter. He groaned though, and sniffed, “you need to go and get Hulk, and calm him down.”

Tony turned to Thor, who looked unnaturally pale, and walking over. “Thor, go get Hulk, I’ll get Peter out.”

Thor nodded, “I’ll be back.” He spun Mjölnir and flew off.

Tony knelt at the rubble, “right; I’m going to pull up the rubble, you ready?”

Peter let out a deep breath, “look, I think I might have broken my ribs...” He said, voice strained, “so this is gonna hurt.”

“What was you thinking?!” Tony asked, in hysterics as his face plate flipped up, and dragged his hands down his face. 

Peter didn’t respond, which panicked Tony.

“Peter — ”

“It doesn’t matter what I was thinking,” grumbled Peter, upset and angry.

Tony began trying to pick up the rubble, “it does! So that way we don’t have to go through this again!”

“Is Mr. Thor and Dr. Banner back yet?” Tried Peter, and the rubble shifted suddenly, making Tony fall back.

“Uh, no?” Tony frowned confused, how did the rubble move? “Are you moving?”

Peter went quiet, “maybe?”

Tony let out a deep breath through his nose, “okay. Stop moving. I’m going to start pulling up the rubble, and you need to stay still. You don’t want to hurt yourself anymore than you already have.”

“Mr. Stark, I'm fine!” Assured Peter, voice tense. “Please, just give me a moment.”

“A moment?! You don’t have — ”

Thor came back, holding Bruce up, who was in a baggy shirt, and tracksuit pants, “Bruce is back!”

Bruce nodded, “where’s Peter?”

“Under the rubble,” Tony said, looking at Thor. He was panicking, his kid was under there, and Tony had no idea what had compelled him to rush into the fight headfirst without a solid plan, nor back up. “Thor, you need to — ”

There was a shaking, and grating noise coming from the rubble, and they turned to see it shifting. The concrete was lifting up, slowly but surely, hands peaked out, pushing up. Peter was slowly coming into view, standing up, holding the concrete above him, as if it weighed a little more than he was used to, like when Tony tried to lift weights that were heavier than his usual.

Peter threw the concrete to the side, and stumbled forward. He held his sides, breathing deeply, and whimpering slightly. He fell to his knees, “Doctor Sidorov got away.” He looked up and fell forward, and Thor caught him.

“Man of Spider’s — ”

Peter clung to Thor’s large arms, “Mr. Thor, it hurts so bad.”

Thor frowned, and nodded, “I know; you were crushed by a building.” He had seen Peter push off the concrete, and he didn’t know how much the concrete weighed, he didn’t really want to know.

“Nah, that’s normal. I mean, the memories hurt.” Peter panted, and lay on his back, “I’m gonna lie here.”

Bruce knelt, and took the boys head, “Peter, we’re gonna call Cho and — ”

“No!” Yelled Peter, his mask eyes widening in horror. “No hospitals!”

“It’s not a hospital,” assured Tony, kneeling down. He went to take off the boy's mask, to make sure his head was okay, but Peter’s hand shot out, grabbing Tony’s wrist.

“That’s a no-no.” Groaned Peter, not letting Tony’s wrist go, “we don’t like that...”

“Pet — ”

“All of you stop saying my name! I have a Secret Identity,” reminded Peter. He sounded so annoyed.

Tony scowled; one day he won’t have one. None of The Avengers have a secret identity, the world knows who they are, and what they do. “Fine, but you need help. Cho can — ”

“No hospitals,” Peter said, again, voice weak. “Call Claire...” He then promptly passed out.

Claire?

Bruce frowned, “lift him up, get him to The Quinjet, I’ll call this Claire person...” He had no idea who she was, but she was probably on Peter’s phone, right? Right.

Thor gently lifted him up, and carried him to the jet, with Tony and Bruce close behind him.

Peter had denied professional medical help, and had lifted concrete off his back which weighed about fifty tons, and refused to take off his mask. Tony calls that rebellious, denying help, going against orders, trying to prove a point, or being more adult. Thor called it dangerous, he didn’t need the help, he could handle anything thrown at him, he was fine, the boy was a threat. Bruce called it sweet, not wanting to inconvenience them (which is ridiculous), wanting to keep people safe, and wanting people to stay calm.

Thor set Peter down on a stretcher, strapping him in, and Bruce pulled out Peter’s phone from one of the suit's many hidden pockets.

It was a black, blackberry phone bold, scratched to fuck from the rattling of keys, and possibly second hand, with a few keys missing, and a screen which was cracked like a spider web.

Tony winced, “that is terrible. Why’s he not using a Stark Phone?” He asked, looking to Bruce in confusion, as he moved over, putting the jet in autopilot, and taking off.

“I don’t know,” sighed Bruce, opening the phone. It needed a password. Shit. “Password...”

“What?” Asked Tony, as he sent a message to Cho, Hey Cho, get medical ready. Peter’s ribs are broken. No matter what Peter said, he was getting the boy to medical, and would call this Claire person.

“Peter has a password, and I have no idea what it is,” said Bruce.

Thor thought, and thought of everything Peter liked, “try Star Wars, Lego's — ”

“It’s a number code,” Bruce said, waving a hand.

“Try uh,” Tony snapped his fingers, “I know his code, we was in the lab once, and Peter’s hands were covered in oil, so I had to put it in! One nine seven, seven one two. It’s Star Wars; 1977 December.”

Bruce typed it in, “no.”

“What?!” Gaped Tony, and shook his head. “Try zero zero zero, zero zero zero,” he offered, and Bruce typed it out.

“Nope.”

“Okay, now try zero zero zero, zero zero one,” continued Tony.

“Okay, I’m not trying every number,” sighed Bruce, thinking.

“Five seven eight, zero three four,” came Peter’s slurred voice, making them look over. He was looking at them weakly, “can I pass out again?”

Thor nodded, “of course, but what are those numbers in reference to?”

“Nothing, just a random string of numbers,” said Peter, as if it was obvious, before passing out again.

“Did our talking wake him up?” Asked Thor, confused.

“What, so he just has a password that isn’t a reference to anything?” Asked Tony, confused. “What?” That didn’t make any sense, how could Peter remember that?

Bruce typed it in, “we’re in.”

The man went to the contacts and frowned, reading the contact lists, scrolling down.

B.🍕

Black Cat💰

Black Widow Y.🧀

Blade🕶️

Daredevil👿

Deadpool🍁

Guy In The Chair🪑

Gwanda🩰

Ham🐷

Hawkeye C.🏹

Hawkeye K.🟪

Hero of Harlem⛓️

Human Torch🔥

Iron Fist☯️

Michelangelo🟧

Moon Knight🌑

Noir⬛

Nurse🩹

Private Investigator🥃

Scary Lady🫀

She-Hulk🟩

SP//dr P.💻

Stan L.👁️

Sorcerer Supreme🪄

Sunflower🌻

Terri Lee (NYPD)🕵️♀️

The Professor🦼

The Punisher🐶

Three🛹

Two🕸️

Venom📰

Wolverine🚬

Work🥱

Blinking, Bruce looked to Peter as if he had never met him before. Who are these people? How does Peter know them? And, how come Peter has a direct link with the NYPD? It made no sense. (And, since when is Peter friends with Jennifer, his cousin? Since when?!)

He went onto Peter’s messages, since everything was in code names, he had to find one that mentioned “Claire”. And, he got lucky.

It was a few contacts down, (he had scrolled past Daredevil, Guy In The Chair, and Noir, and he scrolled past a few group chats; Team Red, Vigilantes Assemble!, Multiverse Meeting, and Spidey Protection), there was the name Claire in a message to Nurse, which read; you love me really, Claire.

Bruce clicked on the contact, and waited as it rang, the phone to his ear. Was this a burner phone? It would make sense, considering all the names were vigilante names, or names that linked with working outside the law. (Who is Two and Three? And, who’s B.? And, Scary Lady? And, Michelangelo seems like the only normal one there!)

“Spidey, it better be good,” came an annoyed female voice. “Who am I kidding? Today’s date did not go as planned, and Luke is currently talking to Danny - sometimes I feel like I’m third wheeling.”

“Uh, yeah no this is Bruce Banner... the Hulk?”

Claire fell quiet, before saying, “is Peter okay?”

“He says he has broken ribs, and he said no hospitals and to call you. We’re taking him to the compound and to medbay, we just thought if you was free, seeing you there might — ”

“Calm him down,” Claire said in understanding. “I’ll be there shortly, and I’m bringing two of his friends,” she warned before she hung up.

Bruce blinked and looked over at Tony, setting Peter’s burner phone down. “I’ve figured out why Peter doesn’t have a Stark Phone.”

“But, he does!” Insisted Tony, “I’ve seen it, I put a passcode in — ”

“That’s a burner phone,” Bruce explained with a weary smile, gesturing to the phone. “Nearly every single name on there I can link with a vigilante.” He looked to Tony, “who do you think “Work” is?”

Thor looked over Bruce’s shoulder, and shrugged, “call them?”

Bruce looked at Tony, who nodded. This was a breach of privacy, but Bruce was incredibly curious. So, he called “Work”, and Tony’s phone rang, making the two look at him. Tony looked down at his phone to see Peter’s name pop up, (technically it was “Peter Back Up”).

“Oh, I’m work...” Tony mumbled, upset. He didn’t have a codename? His wasn’t Iron Man, nor did it have a meaningful emoji like the others. This was a yawning face.

Tony snatched the burner phone, and went onto “Work” notes, and read out loud, “a contact for The Avengers. What, so we all just share one contact on his phone?” He set the phone down, annoyed.

“Don’t worry, he’s friends with Jen and I had no idea,” sighed Bruce, pinching his nose.

Thor took the burner and read through more. “I’m surprised he has the wizards personal number, and Wolverines...”

“Yeah, a direct link to the NYPD, a link to the X-Men, and another to The Fantastic Four,” Bruce hummed, “and one to us; The Avengers.”

“Peter does get around,” mused Thor, impressed by their youngest. “Hey, what’s “I Fucked Up”?” He went on the group and snorted, seeing a few questions and answers of a legal variety. “Never mind, your cousin is in so I think it’s a legal team.”

“We’re landing,” Tony said, feeling numb. He hadn’t heard what Thor nor Bruce had said. Why was his contact so mundane? Why did he not know Peter had a burner phone?

The Quinjet landed, and opened, and Thor and Bruce moved, allowing Paramedic’s to move Peter onto the stretcher, and allowed them to push the boy into the Compound. Tony noticed a black woman who he never met before, rushing with them, and barking out orders and commands.

Tony, Thor and Bruce followed, rushing down the hall close behind the boy, and following them to Medbay, which they were locked out of.

Cho and mysterious woman who must be Claire got to work, as Peter lay perfectly still. And, outside was Clint, and two mysterious men; one was a black man, tall and muscular, with a beard, and a bald head; the other was a smaller white man, with sandy blond hair and — 

“You’re Daniel Rand,” Tony said, eyeing the blond, who looked up confused. “You’re the co-CEO of Rand Enterprises...”

Daniel nodded, smiling, “you’re Tony Stark. The genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Also known as The Merchant of Death.” His smile turned a bit cold, as he looked towards the medbay.

Tony’s stomach dropped; he had tried so hard to scrub himself clean from that former title, and yet here it was, being thrown in his face.

“What happened?” Asked the other guy, arms crossed, and face serious.

“We was after a Doctor, and he was escaping. Peter rushed up, and something exploded, and he got crushed,” Bruce said, clicking the bones in his fingers.

“And, nobody went with him?” Asked Daniel, pissed and annoyed as he rounded on the three. “What?! Can you not — ”

“Danny,” said the guy, “calm down. Not many people can work with Peter’s ideals.”

“Frank can, and Frank is The Punisher,” reasoned Daniel.

Clint spoke up, “yeah, but The Avengers don’t work with Peter often. So, they aren’t used to Peter running in to stop the bad guy and saving people, and someone having to go with him as backup.”

The other guy nodded, and looked to Tony, Thor and Bruce, “Peter throws caution to the wind if it means getting the bad guy, and helping people. If he works in a team, one person goes and keeps him safe, or continues with Peter’s idea if Peter falls behind.”

“What, this is normal?” Asked Tony, jerking a thumb in the direction of Peter.

Daniel scoffed, “no. If it was with any of us, he wouldn’t have been hurt.” He crossed his arms, and frowned, “maybe I should...” He raised a glowing fist, but Clint stopped him.

“You know what he’d say,” mused Clint.

“Don’t waste your powers on me, I’ll be fine,” the three men mocked fondly, and laughed lightly.

The black man looked at the three Avengers, “I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Luke Cage — ”

“Hero of Harlem,” Bruce said, eyeing the man. He looked to Daniel, and realised; we’re meeting two of Peter’s vigilante friends - The Iron Fist and The Hero of Harlem.

Luke nodded, “yes, I am.”

Daniel sighed, “Daredevil is gonna be furious when he finds out Peter had to lift a building off his back. Again.”

Luke grimaced, “don’t remind me of the Vulture. I hate that guy.”

“Who doesn’t,” grumbled Clint, crossing his arms. “I thought you and Claire were on a date,” he said, looking at Luke.

“I was, but Danny crashed it,” huffed Luke, glancing to Danny.

Daniel held up his hands in peace, “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry, really I am, I just wanted to hang out and — ”

“And, Peter’s going to be fine,” Dr. Cho said, making them look over. “He just needs to rest, and we re-broke his ribs so they’re healing properly.”

Clint relaxed, “thanks Cho. I’ll shoot a message Devil’s way.”

Daniel snorted, “he will call and panic.”

“He’ll do that when he finds out anyway,” Clint said, waving a dismissive hand.

“May we see him?” Asked Thor, tone worried and tense. He had no doubt Peter would be alright, but to see and make sure is another thing.

Cho held a hand out, welcoming, “of course.”

The group moved in to see Peter, wrapped up in bandages and hooked up to wires, and awake. Claire was next to him, brushing his soft hair from his eyes.

“You caught a good one, didn’t you, honey?” She asked, voice soft and gentle, barely heard by the others. “Really taking after your big brothers now, aren’t you?”

“Which part, having buildings falling on me, or being a bit insane?” Asked Peter, voice soft and tired.

“Both,” mused Claire.

Peter looked up, as if registering them for the first time, and lit up like a Christmas tree. His eyes were shining, and his smile was wide. Tony and Bruce relaxed and smiled back at the boy, and Thor grinned. Daniel and Luke however, held concerned gazes, with Clint talking outside on the phone.

“Danny, Luke,” greeted Peter with a grin. “Good to see you dumbasses.” He laughed lightly, relaxing, “hi Mr. Stark, Dr. Banner, Mr. Thor.”

That brought a stuttering halt to the three Avengers, not noticing Luke and Daniel moving over to Peter, talking to him gently. Peter called them “Claire”, “Luke” and “Danny”. Not even “Daniel”, “Danny”, a nickname. That hurt most, that this guy got a nickname, rather than “Daniel”, seriously?! He’s at that level with these guys, yet not them?!

Rhodes had told Tony about Peter and Frank, also known as The Punisher, and he hadn’t believed him. But, Rhodes' voice came filtering in; he gained my trust and I have his.

It made no sense; why wouldn’t Peter trust them? They treat him as an equal, they help each other out, and Peter helps them. And, Tony really loves him, like a son. But, there was no Mr, not Sir, no nothing, just Luke and Danny! No, Ms. no Ma’am, just Claire.

Peter trusting these vigilantes more than them was sickening. What did they do to gain Peter’s trust, for Peter to be able to call them “Luke”, “Claire” and “Danny”?

Tony moved over, “so... these are your friends?”

Looking up, Peter nodded, “yeah.”

“And, Claire is your nurse?” Asked Tony, slowly, as he shoved his hands deep in his pockets.

Claire snorted, and stood up, “I feel like I’m babysitting vigilantes.” She held a hand out, “Claire Temple.”

Tony took hold of her hand, “Tony Stark.”

Claire nodded, “I know who you are.” She shook his hand, and let go, “good to meet you.”

“Does anyone have my phone?” Asked Peter, grumbling under his breath as Daniel’s glowing fist was on Peter’s ribs.

Bruce handed over the burner, “this one?”

“Yep,” he took it, and began typing. “Thanks.” Peter was typing away and relaxed, “right, fixed.”

“Fixed what?” Asked Tony, glaring slightly at Luke, who was running his fingers through Peter’s hair.

“Made a new passcode,” shrugged Peter. He relaxed, and sighed, “I’m going to go back to sleep. If that’s okay?” He asked, looking at Claire.

“I’m not stopping you,” assured Claire, nodding.

Peter smiled, relaxing, “thanks Claire. Sorry for interrupting your date.”

Claire grinned, “Danny got to us before you.”

Peter laughed, “ha!”

Tony looked between Claire and Peter, as Claire’s soft, yet no bullshit voice entered his mind; I feel like I’m babysitting vigilantes. He didn’t correct her, how could he? Peter’s first reaction was “call the vigilante nurse”, and to do what he thought was right, and had expected Tony or Thor to join Peter in his silent plan, much like the vigilantes would have. They had failed. Peter had gotten out of it all himself.

Peter wasn’t an Avenger, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a hero. Just, a bit less legal.

Clint’s voice came singing in, phone still to his ear, “Daredevil’s gonna ground you Pete!”

“MOTHER FUCKER!”

5) Nicholas Fury

Nicholas Fury had seen a lot of things in his life, and was used to the unusual. A billionaire dying from palladium poisoning? That’s fine. A man frozen for years in ice and surviving? Cool, (pun not intended). A lesbian friend who came from space, with a cat that was actually an intimidating alien? Totally normal. Spider-Man is actually a teenage kid without a family, and trauma which weighed more than Fury’s failures? That is where Fury drew the fucking line.

When he met Spider-Man years ago, he was expecting to debrief a young man who was probably going through marriageable troubles, or possibly struggling to find a job, and worrying about feeding a child. Not, a boy who made one too many Star Wars references, and didn’t even have a driver's licence, more worried about whether or not he was getting into college. (It had been an Avengers Mission gone right, and Spider-Man was there, bleeding out. Of course, the boy hadn’t checked the room, and had pulled off his mask, and passed out, and Fury proceeded to yell at the team for an hour, because that was a child and they willingly threw said child into danger.)

(He then learned that Spider-Man wouldn’t stop, and he’d go out there in a ski mask if he had to. Fury quickly backed off, and allowed the boy to continue.)

So, seeing Peter Parker for a debrief after yesterday wasn’t as shocking as the first few times. Nor was his tense nervousness. (Though Fury will always be amazed at how quickly Peter healed. Seriously, one day, and Peter’s healed and better.)

Peter was always nervous, always tense, always respectful, and honestly, he could be a little shit at times, but it was why Fury liked the kid. Nobody really had the guts to call Fury out on stuff, and nobody snarked at him, not really, not like Peter, so in that regard, Fury held Peter to a high opinion.

“Wanna tell me what happened yesterday?” Fury asked, fingertips pressed into the cold metal table as he leaned over it.

The metal table didn’t look special, except it was. Shuri had heard Bucky complain to Steve about the meeting table, and about how easy it is to break when they were angry. It happened after missions, or during briefs and debriefs, something particularly bad happened, or was happening, and one of them lost their cool, smashing a hand down on the table. So, Shuri had made the table completely out of vibranium, so when they slammed their hands down, it hurt them more than it hurt the poor table, and was still standing a year down the line. (They thought it was a waste of vibranium, but Shuri thought it was hilarious.)

Peter shrugged, and simply said, “I miscalculated.”

Fury blinked and shrugged back, mockingly, shaking his head, “you miscalculated? What does that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” sighed Peter, crossing his arms over his chest. “I thought Mr. Stark or Mr. Thor would have followed me in, and they didn’t. I miscalculated my judgement.”

What a weird thing to say. Did the boy expect one of them to follow him through the flames of destruction from Point A to Point B? Apparently, yes.

“I rushed in to stop Doctor Sidorov who was escaping, and a big robot attacked, and shot a blast at me. I dodged, it hit a wall, and the ceiling caved in. I thought someone would follow me, and back me up to either continue on, or to fight with me. I was wrong, and miscalculated who I could rely upon for help.”

“Or, maybe you didn’t tell them your plan,” Fury said, sarcastically. “Or, you said you had it.”

“I always do that, yet the others help me.” Huffed Peter, rolling his eyes, annoyed.

“Others”? Fury wasn’t sure who these “others” were, but if he had to guess, it would be these vigilantes the boy hung around. Fury isn’t stupid, nor naive, The Avengers might miss the glaring facts, but Fury doesn’t.

He sees the way Peter sneers at the word “hero”, as if it was an insult rather than a badge of honour, as if he was smelling and tasting pure poison. Fury knows that if Peter has to be called something, he prefers the term “vigilante”, he relishes when J. Jonah. Jameson slanders him and calls him a “menace” in the news. While Fury secretly wishes, he doesn’t cling to hope that Peter will be an Avenger, he knows that Peter will go down the vigilante route.

“Well, these aren’t your vigilante buddies,” scowled Fury. He couldn’t believe he had to remind Peter of this, he thought the boy knew the difference at the very least.

Peter scoffed, “I know that, trust me. If they were, I wouldn't have needed my ribs to be re-broken.” He placed his hands on his hips, “alright Captain Blackbeard. What else do you need to know?”

Fury thought; there wasn’t really anything else. But, he could always ask again. “Would you ever consider being an Avenger?” He asked every once in a while, on the off chance that Peter would agree.

The teenager snorted, “no way in Hell.” He sniffed, rubbing his nose, “look, you’re not the first to ask, and you certainly won’t be the last. But, the answer will remain the same; no.”

Fury sighed, “I didn’t think you’d change your mind.” He walked over, “but, we need to know if you can work in a team.”

“Of course I can,” scowled Peter. He sounded so offended. “I just happen to work better alone, or with like... Team Red.”

Fury blinked, what? Team Red? What’s Team Red, how come he’s never heard of Peter’s other team? “Team Red?” He asked, and realised he sounded a bit idiotic, just repeating what Peter said.

Peter blinked, “yeah?” He drew the word out, confused.

“Okay, I’ll bite; what’s Team Red?” Fury sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hated not knowing, and honestly, he was unsure if Peter should be hanging around this “Team Red”.

Just because he knows Peter would never be an Avenger, didn’t mean that he had to like who the boy hung around. He cared for Peter, and was secretly concerned about who the boy was friends with. (He had once sent Natasha out to follow Peter, to keep an eye on him, and to make sure he was okay, but Peter somehow always shook her off.)

“Not what, who,” Peter said, voice affronted with Fury. “It’s my team, we bust down Trafficking Rings, sometimes in the middle of operation, and — ”

“Right, but who does Team Red consist of?” Asked Fury, waving his hand, looking annoyed.

Blinking, Peter’s back straightened, “friends.” He said defensively, “the people who actually trained me.”

“Stark said he trained you — ”

“Yeah, that’s what he said, it doesn’t mean he’s telling the truth. Or, he thinks he’s training me at least,” shrugged Peter. “Before I met Team Red, my knuckles were smooth, like newborn baby smooth. And, then I told them to train me like they were trained.” He pulled off a glove, and showed off his knuckles, rough and callus with use, thick and chapped in some areas, but was in the middle of healing. “Now they’re never smooth.”

“You think that’s a good thing?” Asked Fury, concerned. Who were these guys?

Rolling his eyes, Peter pursed his lips, “it means I’m doing something right.”

“Or, maybe they’ve used and ruined you,” offered Fury. Maybe it was a low blow, going after the ones who had trained Peter. Even he knew, logically, none of The Avengers had sat down and trained the boy, and any training done, they went easy on him. (The only one who didn’t hold back was Thor, and that was the only time Peter learned anything, and it was the only time Peter didn’t have to hold back as much.)

Peter’s brown, used to be a cute doughy eyes, grown into cold brown eyes, hardened into a harsh glare. “I think you should be very careful about what you say right now, Director.”

Okay, too far, Fury thought. He stared Peter’s glare down, but Peter didn’t waver. The boy held the glare without fear. “So, who is in Team Red?” He asked again, hoping to move away from the conversation.

“Me,” Peter said, tone quipped.

It fell silent, Peter’s face blank, with Fury giving a blank look back.

“And?”

Peter smiled, amused, “well, we’re called Team Red, and I hang around vigilantes. Tell me, who else wears red in my line of work.”

Surely not, thought Fury in silent horror. The worst part is, Peter didn’t seem like he was joking. “If you’re on about — ”

“The coolest Mother Fuckers in the multiverse!” Called a voice of pure delight, and immaturity. “Sorry Mr. Samuel L. Jackson,” bowed the man in red and black leather, and decked out with guns and katanas, and Hello Kitty stickers, holding a green smoothie, “I know that’s your line.” He winked at Fury behind his mask, making the black man scowl back.

Deadpool.

Peter sighed, and facepalmed, “what are you doing here, Wade?”

“Came to get you, baby boy!” Cooed Wade, pinching Peter’s cheeks.

Peter waved a hand, whacking Wade’s hands off, “how did you even get in here?!”

Fury crossed his arms, “he’s got a good point; how did you bypass the security?”

Wade looked over with wide eyes, as if confused. “No idea! The Author just wanted a bit of Team Red, and so did I! So, here we are!”

The Author? Thought Fury in confusion. Who’s “The Author”? Another vigilante? A God? An all powerful omnipotent being? He looked to Peter, hoping for some form of answer to his silent question, and all he got back was a bored gaze.

“Parker,” scowled Fury, “what is The Author?”

“Wade knows, and that’s all that matters,” sighed Peter, sounding just as exasperated as Fury felt. “Wade, you said “we”, did you bring — ?”

“DaddyDevil?” Asked Wade with amusement, “yep!”

“I slept with you once,” came an annoyed voice, “one time! And, I regret it everyday!”

Fury stared at the newcomer, Daredevil, dressed in a red one piece with horns, and billy clubs at his side. This is Team Red? He thought, keeping rather calm on the outside. But, on the inside...? On the inside he was panicking!

Fury’s mind was swirling; Team Red consists of; Daredevil, a near myth due to the little amount of information on him, and lack of photographic sightings, a man who punches people into comas and was known as “The Man Without Fear”; Deadpool, an insane mercenary, whose criminal record was as dirty as they come, had a murder charge longer than anything Fury had seen, and was called “The Merc With A Mouth”; and Peter Parker, Spider-Man, a teenager who tried to help everyone and was the sweetest kid around, and went by the other name of “The Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man”.

How did they get anything done? Their fighting styles, and personalities didn’t match, and yet they did not seem to care, and apparently, in Peter’s eyes, it was the right match, and seemingly made the perfect team.

“Hey Double D,” smiled Peter, waving his hand in a one swipe motion, “how ya doing?”

“Fine,” sighed Daredevil, and was slouching. “Just, come on, we need you.”

Peter’s back straightened up, face flat, “what’s wrong?”

Fury looked at Peter in shock, his eye widening. What the...? Peter’s voice was different, more strict, and stern. Fury’s heard Peter’s voice on Avengers Missions, it’s playful, calm and teasing, but this was serious, a sense of urgency, and professionalism.

What did Team Red do that warranted such a reaction? Thought Fury in confusion. He really should be stopping this, especially now that he knew Team Red consisted of two of the most dangerous individuals known to mankind.

“Child Trafficking Ring in Hell’s Kitchen,” Daredevil said. “Wade messaged you, but you didn’t respond.”

“Shit,” cursed Peter, quickly pulling out his phone from one of his many hidden pockets. He opened it and threw his head back in despair, “shit! I’m sorry, I didn’t see — ”

Wade waved a dismissive hand, “don’t worry about it! We came to get you so we can bust down the Ring!”

“And, you left those kids to suffer?” Asked Fury, placing his hands on his hips, unamused.

Scoffing, Wade said, “no way! I grabbed Daredevil, and here we were in the Compound!” He assured, as if Fury was the dumb one.

How did that work? Fury looked to Peter, who was more focused on the Child Trafficking Ring part of the conversation.

“So, we going?” Asked Peter, without missing a beat.

Fury frowned, “no, hold on — ”

“Director,” scowled Peter. “Whatever you want isn’t important, and taking down a Trafficking Ring is.” He said, hand up. “Okay?”

“But — ”

Peter scoffed, a deep scowl on his face, “what? What else do you need, we’ve talked about the whole... Doctor Sidorov thing.”

Daredevil’s head snapped around to Peter, “that reminds me; you got crushed by a building. Yesterday.”

“And, you came to collect me for a job. Today,” shrugged Peter, calmly.

Wade looked between Peter and Daredevil, “are you gonna be okay, Pete?”

Peter nodded, “yeah, I’ll be fine!” He crossed his arms, “not to mention, I like always go out after an injury.”

“I feel like I should stop you,” hummed Daredevil.

“You should,” scowled Fury, unimpressed. “You two are aware that Spider-Man is a teenager.” He gestured to Peter, whose face was on show.

Deadpool and Daredevil looked at Fury, blankly, and silently.

Fury didn’t shuffle, but he scowled. He felt like he was being silently judged, and threatened, he didn’t doubt Wade or Daredevil would attack him if they felt it necessary. They were larger than him, and were violent individuals, and if Peter was friends with them, there was a chance Peter could be just as violent.

“We know,” assured Daredevil, crossing his arms, tone bored. “And yet, we aren’t the ones who dragged him to Germany, without telling him what he was fighting for. We didn’t blackmail him, and we didn’t kidnap him.”

Wade put his hands next to his face, and stage whispered to nothing, looking directly at you, “he’s talking about Stark! That being said, this isn’t a Stark Hate Fic, this is just pointing out a fact!”

Fury frowned, and looked at what Wade was looking at; it was a wall, with nothing on it. “Who are you talking to?” He asked, confused, and scowling.

“The readers,” said Wade, raising a hand. “I just thought it was important for them to know this isn’t exactly an Anti-Stark fic, we just don’t love what he did to Peter, because everything Red said is true.”

Peter frowned, “Mr. Stark didn’t kidnap me.”

“He coerced a minor - you, Peter - to cross country lines, without the explicit permission of your guardian - your Aunt May. That's child abduction. And, since he took you out of the country, not just the state, he violated the Hague Abduction Convention. And, then he coerced a minor - again you - under the age of 16 - you were 14 - to partake in armed conflict which is a war crime. And, made you a child soldier, Peter.” Daredevil said annoyed, “he blackmailed you, and bribed you.”

Fury looked to Wade, who was jumping on the tips of his toes in joy and excitement, clapping his hands together.

Peter fell silent and looked down, shoulders dropping and sighing, “yeah I know.”

“And,” Daredevil looked to Fury, “we aren’t the ones who ignored him for two months. We aren’t the ones who fail to protect him; that’s your Avengers.”

Fury fell silent, as he thought back to Natasha’s assessment of Tony. Personality overview. Mr Stark displays compulsive behaviour. Prone to self-destructive tendencies. Textbook narcissism. Recruitment assessment for Avenger Initiative. Iron Man? Yes. Tony Stark not recommended.

Ultimately, there was a line in the sand, and Tony Stark had crossed it. He was so far past it, he could no longer see the line. It was a dot.

Fury scowled to himself, I should have listened to Natasha...

“Look,” said Peter, hands up in “peace” motion. “Can we focus?”

Wade nodded, and pointed to Peter, “baby boy’s right! We need to go!”

“See? Children in a Trafficking Ring in Hell’s Kitchen,” scowled Peter, as he pulled his mask from one of his pockets, and pulling it on over his face. “Let’s go.”

Daredevil sighed, and nodded, “let’s go.”

Peter looked at Fury, “I’ll see you later?” He shrugged, not sounding bothered if they didn’t see each other again, and walked out, next to Daredevil, and Wade squealed, skipping off after them.

What just happened?

He was meant to be getting a debriefing about the mission that failed yesterday, and instead he found out Peter’s team consisted of two unstable men. Men, as in older than him. Not two teenagers.

Fury walked silently, and slowly moved into the main room, head down facing the floor. He saw most of the Avengers sitting around on the sofas, watching a movie; Rush Hour. The group was small, and consisted of Natasha, Bucky, Steve, Rhodes and Tony.

“Stark,” called Fury, making Tony lookup.

“One-eyed Willy,” greeted Tony, nodding with a smirk.

I can see the resemblance to Stark, Fury thought, slightly amused. Peter and Tony had the same sarcastic humour, but unlike Tony who at the end of the day listened to Fury, if Peter didn’t agree, he would say it.

“You’re on leave for a while,” Fury said, with a no bullshit tone.

Tony raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly, “a vacation?”

“No,” Fury hummed, correcting him. “More like, I’m thinking about what Natasha said years ago when we hired you. And, I’m taking in account some new information. You’re on leave until I figure out if I want you here, or if I want to fire you.”

Now that got everyone’s attention, making them look over in shock, eyes wide.

“What?” Asked Tony, voice hushed.

Fury raised one eyebrow, “you heard me. After all; Peter Parker was 14 when you took him to Germany; blackmail, bribing, child abduction, Hague Abduction Convention, Geneva Conventions, and using Peter as a soldier, those are war crimes and criminal offences.”

Tony stared, gaping, “what?”

“You heard me Stark, you’re on leave until further notice,” Fury said, crossing his arms.

“Where is he now?!” Tony asked, eyebrows raised, moving up on the seat. “Peter can vouch for me — !”

“He did,” assured Fury, crossing his arms with a nod, “he vouched for you, and he confirmed it. So, I’m currently reevaluating Natasha’s assessment.”

“Where is Peter?” Asked Tony, eyes wide.

Fury glanced at Natasha, who was staring at Tony with shock, Steve was glaring slightly at Tony, Rhodes was gaping in surprise, and Bucky was looking down. Fury looked back at Tony, “Spider-Man is on a mission with Deadpool and Daredevil, taking down a Child Trafficking Ring in Hell’s Kitchen.” He nodded, “I’ll leave you to your movie.”

Fury turned and walked off, going through a door, and the last thing he heard was Rhodes saying to Tony, “you kidnapped him?”

+1) Everyone

Avengers Assembled!

Two words sent from an anonymous number, which was clearly Fury’s number, which sent the Avengers into a frenzy. There hadn’t been an “Avengers Assemble” since Thanos, and here they were, getting another call.

They had rushed into the meeting room, all coming from their own personal lives to figure out what had happened.

The Avengers consisted of; Tony Stark, James Rhodes, Vision, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner, Thor, Scott Lang, Stephen Strange, Shuri and T’Challa.

Carol was off-world still, and The Guardian’s of the Galaxy were taking care of an alien attack on Xander again. Hope Pym still disliked any Stark, and so refused to come, but wished Scott good luck. Stephen didn’t want to come, but Wong assured him he could handle the Sanctum. Loki was happy throwing plays in New Asgard, and Valkyrie was ruling New Asgard much to Loki’s annoyance. Peter wasn’t there, because Fury didn’t have a way to contact him.

Fury and Maria Hill walked in, and looked at The Avengers surrounding the table, and moved to the front.

“You’ve been Assembled,” Fury said, eyeing Tony, who looked down. He had yet to decide if Tony should come back permanently or not, but the only reason he was here is because of the mission itself. “Doctor Konstantin Sidorov has been spotted.”

That got everyone's attention. Even Stephen, Shuri, T’Challa and Scott looked over in surprise. They had heard the complaining from the others, about this one Hydra Doctor that constantly got away.

“Where?” Asked Steve, crossing his arms, leaning forward.

“Queens,” Fury said.

Their minds flashed to Peter Parker, who lived in Queens. Teenage, emancipated Peter Parker, who owned a cheap apartment, in a run down apartment building which was owned by a Mr. Ditkovich, all stationed in Queens.

“Doctor Sidorov was seen near a Trafficking Ring. It’s a low sorta area, not well known. It seems like a normal place, a restaurant, but I believe the operation is under the building.” Fury said, pressing his hands to the table.

Bucky slammed his metal fist down on the vibranium table, and it rattled under the pressure, but not cracked, and Shuri grinned - at least her vibranium table was steady.

“We should head down,” Tony said, nodding to himself. “And — ”

“We can’t,” Rhodes said suddenly, making them look at him. “Peter’s protective of Queens.”

Clint grinned, and looked between them all.

“He’s protective?” Asked Steve, confused, looking at Rhodes.

Rhodes shook his head, “you didn’t see it. You didn’t see the way The Punisher backed away from him. If we’re gonna go to Queens, we have to ask him.”

“And, Peter deals with Trafficking Rings all the time,” said Bruce suddenly, leaning forward.

Wanda nodded, “he would know what to do, and how to best deal with it.”

Tony sighed, “I’ll call Peter.” He pulled out his phone, and the contact list showed up in front of him, as it appeared in the air like a hologram.

They watched as Tony scrolled past Spidey-Boy and moved to Peter Back Up. They shot him a confused look, and Tony waved a dismissive hand, “it’s his vigilante number.” He pressed the contact, and waited, but not for long.

“Mr. Stark? What’s wrong?” Came Peter’s voice, though there was a seriousness to it, with still clear playfulness and joy, his voice muffled, as if he was munching on something.

“Pe — uh, Spider-Man,” Tony greeted, “what are you doing?”

“Eating pizza,” mused Peter. “They were late, so I didn’t need to pay full price.”

“What?” Asked Wanda, confused, getting sidetracked. Peter’s eating pizza? Not paying full price?

“Well my friend always says: “Forgiveness is divine, but never pay full price for late pizza.””

Tony shook his head, getting distracted. He had to pull the conversation back. “Spider-Man, we need to get into Queens, Doctor Sidorov is there, and hanging around a Trafficking Ring,” explained Tony to the phone.

It fell silent, and tense.

“Peter?”

“Sidorov is around a Trafficking Ring in Queens?” Peter asked, voice blank, and strained.

Tony wanted to fall back into assuring the boy, of “everything will be okay”, of “you did your best”, but stopped himself. He can’t do that. Or, he won’t. That’s not something Peter would appreciate, nor would he be okay with.

“Yeah,” sighed Tony.

Stephen spoke up, “Peter, if I may; I could open up a portal for you? Bring you here so we could discuss?”

“Do it, Stephen.”

There’s another one who had first name privileges...

Stephen nodded, “of course.” He nodded to Tony, who hung up, and the sorcerer stood.

Clint smirked, “look at you guys.” He mused, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, “finally treating Peter how he’s meant to be treated.”

“And, how’s that?” Asked Sam, confused, with a scowl. Didn’t they treat Peter as they usually treated him?

“As a vigilante,” Clint said, as if it was obvious. And boy, was it. Peter’s a vigilante, not a superhero.

The orange, sparkled circle appeared, opening up, and Peter walked in with ease. He was tense, as he turned around and waved, “see you guys later.”

“See you later dude!” Called a male skater voice.

“Bye Peter!” Said another, sounding nerdy.

“Later man!” Yelled a third, sounding deep.

“Talk soon!” A fourth spoke, sounding calmer than the others.

Stephen closed the portal and said, “I’m sorry, where those turtles?”

“Nope,” said Peter, a bit too quickly, as he pulled off his mask, and looked at Fury. “Which Trafficking Ring?”

“It’s under a restaurant,” said Fury, crossing his arms and shrugging.

Peter blinked, and drawled, “do you have the slightest idea how little that narrows it down?” He crossed his arms, “do you know what these people look like? As in, outfits, tattoos, markings — ?”

“They had tattoos on their fists... like blood.” Fury said, shrugging, “does that help.”

“The tattoo’s coloured?” Asked Peter, raising an eyebrow.

Fury thought, where they? What difference does it make? But, it must make one. “Yes, they had it coloured in blue.”

Peter frowned, “why would Doctor Sidorov go and work with The Bleeding Fists?” He asked, confused, as he looked over to Thor. “Is there a possibility to harness The Tesseract into a form of power, or to ingrain it into things and people, or — ?”

“So it’s in people’s systems?” Asked Thor, eyebrows raised, “yes. But, it’s finicky and difficult. Yet, it's possible.”

Peter scowled, “right... The Bleeding Fists are a Trafficking Ring organisation around Queens. I’ve been going after them, but it seems I’ve missed one. You’ve met the Bad Blues...” He looked up, “look, this won’t be easy.”

“We can handle it,” assured Natasha, arms crossed on the table, looking up from under her eyes.

Peter raised an eyebrow, “if you can handle a Child Trafficking Ring, who’s eldest has always been seven, in which the kids I’ve saved are usually bleeding from places kids shouldn’t be bleeding from, and now is wanted for God-Magic-Mutation Experiments, I’ll eat my mask.”

It fell deathly still and silent, besides Clint, who stood and counted his arrows. He was in, and it was clear, he’s dealt with this before.

Natasha nodded, “I can handle it.”

“If you can’t,” Peter said, looking to the people at the table, a lot calmer than before. “Leave now. You will not be judged, nor mocked. I was fifteen when I first dealt with this, and I couldn’t handle it. I had Daredevil and Deadpool to help me through it before, during, and after. I won’t be holding your hand before or during. But after, I will...” He blinked, “so, last chance; stay or leave.”

Again, it was tense.

Scott slowly raised a hand, “I-I don’t think I can deal with that.”

“That’s fine,” promised Peter. “Mr. Lang is benched, anyone else?”

“Shuri, I want you to stay here,” T’Challa said, much to Shuri’s offence.

“What?! No way! I want to help — ” Tried Shuri, scowling.

T’Challa looked at Shuri and said, “no! That’s final!”

“Then you stay here too!” Shuri tried, much to T’Challa’s annoyance, but he must have noticed her look. She would stay if he stayed; protecting each other from a real, true, disgustingly vile evil.

“Fine.”

“Mr. T’Challa and Ms. Shuri are benched.” Peter nodded, looking around.

“Me too,” Bruce said, raising a hand. “I don’t want The Hulk to come out.”

Peter nodded, “wise choice.”

“I don’t think I could stomach it,” Stephen admitted, looking down.

“And, that is valid,” promised Peter. “Stephen and Dr. Banner aren’t coming.” He looked around and his eyes landed on Wanda. “Ms. Maximoff, can you control your magic?”

Wanda blinked, recoiling in shock. Peter had always defended her, always assured her that everything was okay, was always on her side to tell her “things happen”, and now he seemed like he was against her? “Uh, maybe...?”

Peter shook his head, “I can’t do with a maybe; it’s a yes or a no. Can you control your magic?”

Wanda shrugged, a bit helpless, “I don’t know!”

“Ms. Maximoff, if you can’t control it, you’re not going,” warned Peter, tone final.

“But,” tried Wanda, upset and hurt, “why?!”

“Because, this is Queens. You’re in my neighbourhood, my home, my city, and there are kids’ lives on the line!” Peter yelled, furious now and demanded attention, demanded respect, and silently told them not to question him. “People die on my watch all the time, but that’s on me! If I let another super, especially an Avenger into my city, specifically one who can’t control her powers, and that Avenger kills a bunch of people, that is on me, and something I could have prevented!” He snapped, teeth clenched, and suddenly, he was being brutally honest. “So, Ms. Maximoff, if you think you are going to lose control, you aren’t going!”

The fight left Wanda instantly, and she nodded. Fine. Fine, she won’t go. Hero Peter is sweet and kind, Vigilante Peter meant business.

“Ms. Maximoff stays,” he nodded. Peter looked at Tony, eyes hard, “you bring your suit, but you don’t wear it until I say so. We don’t need you to make a racket.” He turned to Steve, “I’d rather you didn’t bring your shield, but you need to; but don’t throw the shield. Thor, don’t use lightning from the sky, okay? You could set the place on fire. We’re aiming to harm and maim, but not kill. Everyone understand?”

Agreements filtered through the air, and Peter nodded, “good! The place is called Outback Steaks.” He looked at Stephen, “think you could portal us there?”

Stephen grinned at the boy, “of course.”

Tony hadn’t known what to expect, but a normal looking restaurant wasn’t one of the things. The restaurant was tall, with a glass penthouse, as people filed in. There was a large banner on the building which read Avengers Appreciation!, with streamers.

It was the anniversary of the Avengers first Assembling, but Tony hadn’t expected this. Especially since it was linked with a Child Trafficking Ring which teamed up with Hydra Nazis.

“Gross,” grumbled Bucky. “The fact they’re celebrating us while doing this.”

Peter scoffed, “please. That’s why they’re doing this. Thank you Avengers, for staying up in the Compound and not coming after us.” Peter laughed bitterly, in a mocking voice. “Thank you Avengers for causing more destruction, it gives us more alien weapons.” He looked to the Avengers, “everyone celebrates this day for The First Assemble. They celebrate because you never come out to help the little guy. Makes our job harder.”

Clint winced looking over, “harsh Spidey.”

“Whatever, they have the right to know.” Peter was knelt on a crane that they were all on, opposite the restaurant, and he tilted his head, “The Bleeding Fists have a private elevator entrance from their penthouses to the Ring below.”

“Didn’t count on having an audience.” Mused Clint, as Peter and him jumped onto the closest building.

Tony and Steve shared a look, and followed as quietly as possible, while Vision floated after him. Thor took hold of Natasha, and spun Mjölnir, following and Sam took hold of Bucky, flying with Thor.

They landed on the penthouse and looked in; it was full of people, and guards, with people who had tattooed bloody knuckles. The place was guarded from one wall to the next, and Natasha saw Doctor Sidorov moving across the room, and entering the kitchen.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” scowled Peter, tense and angry.

Steve thought and nodded, “right, we should try and dress like guests, and go after Sidorov.”

“The elevator is behind the kitchen,” hummed Peter. He eyed the door, silently.

“Right, see?” Steve said, gesturing to the boy, “and, we can say we’re here for the... buying.” He threw up in his mouth a bit at that, not wanting to play a part of the system, even if it was an act.

Peter shook his head, “no somebody got kicked out.” He said, looking away, and paused in his searching.

Tony frowned, “there’s gotta be someway to get in — ”

“Hold on,” Peter said, holding a hand up, “get a load of how the waiters are dressed.” He said, pressing a finger to the window. The waiters and waitresses were dressed in outfits, costumes, much like The Avengers and Vigilantes with black bow ties. “It’s in poor taste but it can't be that easy.”

They shared a look, and glanced at Peter confused, and then to Clint, to see if the teenager was serious - Clint was listening to the boy with seriousness, like one would look to a leader, and they realised Peter was serious.

They were moving through the restaurant, with Peter carrying a serving tray, while Tony, now in costume, and Steve pushed a large cart, and Vision was holding a wine menu, and Natasha held food menus, with Thor following from behind a few minutes later with a desert cart, and Sam and Bucky were holding serving trays, and Rhodes held a tray of wine glasses.

“It’s that easy,” mused Peter, sighing. “Gosh, I sound like Noir...”

Who is Noir?

The group made their way to the kitchens in two teams, and walked into the large room, the doors shutting behind them, as Thor’s team slid in.

“Hey!” Came a gargled voice, making the group pause with wide eyes.

There stood a buff guy, his arms crossed, with two thin guards at either side of him.

“Whatcha got in there?” He asked, teeth on show.

Thor slowly put his fists up, and Peter gently put them down, “oh! Just your typical stuff,” assured the boy. The vigilante stepped forward, gesturing, “liver, hard cheese, barley duke sandwiches.”

Steve put his hands up, and Natasha pushed his hands down.

Peter shrugged, “nothing unusual.”

“Well, that’s good,” grinned the guy, “glad to know you’re prepared. Right through there,” said the buff guy, gesturing to the opposite door. “Have fun.”

The group continued their walk, clustering together.

“Oh, they are dumb,” grinned Tony, throwing his bowtie.

Thor looked at Tony and Steve, and looked at Peter.

“They are so dumb!” Agreed Rhodes, throwing her bowtie, as it landed on Thor’s tray.

Thor looked down to it, confused.

Peter shook his head, laughing nervously, “uh. No. No, he knew.”

Sam looked over quickly, “what?”

“He knows,” hissed Peter quietly, nodding his head. “Come on, let’s just continue with the plan. But, be aware they know we’re here. They just don’t know how, or when, we’re getting to the lower floors.”

“Thank God someone has good hearing,” Bucky said, looking at Peter. He always knew Peter’s hearing was good, just never knew how good Peter’s hearing was.

They continued down the hallway, and Peter waved them to hide in a room, while he jumped to the ceiling. They hid and watched Peter crawl up to a large office, which had two guards outside, staying hidden.

A guy, well built with slick back hair, (Mr. Big Boss they dubbed him), walked with purpose down the hallway with Doctor Konstantin Sidorov at his side. They walked past the two guards and disappeared into the large office. As they passed, the doors shutting, the guards were webbed up, mouths gagged.

Peter webbed their eyes, and whispered creepily, “sleeeeeeep.”

The Avengers rushed over, and Tony opened the doors, and Peter gestured to look around. Tony scanned the room, his red lights landing on the large, yellow painting.

“It should be right here,” Tony said, humming.

Thor leaned up on the desk, and Vision looked up to the picture, with Bucky in the middle of it. Peter leaned on the column against the wall, looking to Bucky, who admired the painting.

“What a beautiful painting,” Bucky complimented. “I love the use of pink.”

“It’s red, Buck,” said Sam, laughing slightly. He waved his hands, eyes amused, “colours. Not his strong suit!”

Bucky slammed his metal hand into the painting and pulled it apart, tearing it to pieces, “it’s pink!” He glared, and clenched his fist seeing an elevator.

“Actually it’s dark pink to red.” Mused Peter, as he slammed his foot at a panel in the elevator, opening it, and they jumped down the elevator shaft.

They landed silently, or as quietly as they possibly could. But, Peter was as quiet as a mouse, landing on quiet feet, bending with his legs.

He waved them forward, and sneaked over quietly. The Avengers followed as quietly as they could. They peered out from behind the wall, and the group grimaced.

In the middle of the room, there were ten five-year-old's; two boys and three girls. They were skinny, and covered in dirt and grime, with their rags falling down their bony bodies.

Natasha threw up in her mouth, seeing as the clothes on the females were clearly meant to be skimpy, and slutty, their rags stopping a bit too short.

Steve grimaced, “okay so — ”

“Rogers,” whispered Peter, sneaking over. “I want you to go and shield the kids. Romanoff, back him up, and cover the kids. Get them out and use the elevator.” He turned to face Clint, “Clint go up on the rafter and aim to the doors. Don’t let anyone escape. Stark, Thor, you two focus on the Big Boss, get him down, but no electricity. Vision, Rhodes, Barnes, focus on the Agents. Wilson, get the ones in the rafters and back up Clint. Understood?”

Nobody seemed to want to argue with Peter, but they did want to question.

Rhodes frowned, and whispered, “and what are you doing?”

“I’m going after the Doc.” Shrugged Peter, and looked to Steve and Vision. “When Rogers gets the kids to the elevator, Vision is going to call the police, specifically Terri Lee. Tell her Spider-Man called.”

“Vision, Rhodes, Barnes, go in first, and Rogers and Romanoff next, get straight to those kids. Stark, Thor, go after Big Boss next, Clint and Wilson, get up there now, and only join once the chaos starts. When I thwip a web, that’s when we start.”

Peter didn’t bother waiting to see if they understood, he was already off, sneaking in the shadows.

Sam looked over to Clint, who jerked his head, and walked off. Sam sighed, and followed, the two slipping into the darkness, and quietly climbing up the stairs.

Bucky, Vision, and Rhodes, moved forward, with Steve and Natasha coming up behind them, and finally Thor and Tony.

Thwip.

Right, time to get a move on.

Vision and Rhodes rushed forward, flying out, and Bucky took up behind them, pulling out a sniper.

Bullets went flying, and bodies fell in pain, but Steve and Natasha’s main focus was the kids. The two ran forward, eyeing the small group who were sobbing and shaking. Immediately, Steve rolled in front of them, holding up the shield, as the bullets bounced off said shield.

Natasha knelt to them and smiled gently, “hey, wanna get outta here?”

Vision turned to see a few Agents rushing to the elevators, and saw arrows embedded into their legs and knees, just as Natasha, and the kids rushed onto the elevator, with Steve shielding them from behind.

I have to call Terri Lee... Vision realised, frowning.

Sam’s wings went out, shielding Clint from the Agents shooting, and looked to Clint. “They get on the elevator okay?”

Clint pulled back another arrow, and aimed down from the rafters, “they’re fine.” He glanced over, and frowned, “Peter’s going ham.”

Sam turned and his wings slammed into the Agents, knocking them off the rafters. He looked down and frowned, seeing Peter throw relentless punches. He turned to Thor and Tony to call them to help, but didn’t. Yes, Peter seems to be gunning to kill the doctor, but that didn’t matter really, because Peter isn’t going into this as a hero, but as a vigilante.

But, even so... is Peter okay with killing people, even as a vigilante?

Tony was blasting his Repulsors, but the Big Boss was dodging. Somehow. It wasn’t like he was skinny, but he was rolling like a ball. Thor slammed Mjölnir into the Big Boss’ side, and watched as he flew into a wall, weightless.

“Nice hit,” hummed Tony, eyes wide.

Thor shrugged, “twas easy.”

Tony held up his hand, and fired a Repulsor, hitting the Big Boss in his chest. He wasn’t that difficult now that he was pinned between Thor and Tony, and the tall wall. He was laughably easy, the only thing that seemed to be causing any trouble was the Agents.

Steve and Natasha sneaked the group of children down the hallway, and out into the emergency exit. They slipped through the door, and rushed down the abundance of metal stairs. Natasha was leading them, and Steve was behind them, ready to shield the kids in case any of the Agents decided to chase after them.

Natasha looked out from the back door, and led them out, “come on.” She whispered, holding the door open.

Sobbing and sniffing, the kids walked out.

Steve shared a look with Natasha, and shook his head, I can’t do this...

Natasha looked over and paused, going pale. She swallowed, staring at the smallest boy who was bleeding from a place where he shouldn’t be bleeding. She looked at Steve, neither can I.

A thought landed on their minds; how could Peter deal with this?

“Vision, go out and pull the fire alarm in ten minutes!” Called Peter, dodging a stray bullet, which allowed Doctor Sidorov to run in the opposite direction of Peter. Standing up, no longer caring of the bullets, Peter yelled out, in the darkest voice the teenager had ever mustered, low and gravelly, as if he gargled nails, broken glass and rocks, “get back here fuckface!” He ran after Doctor Sidorov without a second thought, disappearing behind a wall.

Ten minutes, thought Vision.

Rhodes looked over, “am I the only one thinking this is the most chaotic mission we’ve ever seen?”

“I was thinking Spidey’s gonna kill the guy,” Sam called, his wings shielding him and Clint, while Clint shot a few arrows into Agent's legs, sending them tumbling down.

Clint said nothing, more focused on his mission at hand, but he hummed.

Bucky frowned as he shot a few Agents in their shoulders, “Spidey wouldn’t kill anyone!”

“Debatable,” called Tony, dodging a fist the Big Boss threw at him. (How did Big Boss even get out from between him and the wall?) He didn’t know Peter anymore, but even he knew, there was every chance that Peter would kill someone.

Thor channelled a bolt of lightning through his mere body and hammer, and shot it at the Big Boss, not blinking as the Big Boss went down, hard. “Boss is down!”

“I have not been allowed to pull the fire alarm until ten minutes have been up!” Called Vision, he frowned, wondering when Detective Lee would get there.

Steve couldn’t watch as Natasha comforted the small child who was bleeding. His stomach churned uncomfortably, and twisted painfully, as he felt vomit creep up his throat.

Natasha was knelt on the ground, hugging the small boy, who was sobbing, his shoulders shaking.

“Detective Lee, put your hands in the — ” Coming to a stop was a tall woman in heels, and a purple suit and skirt, dark, curled hair which was dragged into a low ponytail and dark skin. “Oh my gosh,” she gaped at the boy, and turned to Steve. “What happened?!”

Steve hesitated, then explained to the best of his ability.

“Five minutes!” Peter’s strained yell echoed.

Vision knew Peter was talking to him, but it was weird. Why was Peter shortening the time?

“Everyone start leaving, besides Vision!” Ordered Peter, “grab Big Boss, Stark!”

Tony swallowed; Peter wasn’t giving him any professional title, it had been happening the whole mission, but it still didn’t make him feel okay.

Thor grabbed Big Boss, and rushed off, followed by Tony, as Clint shot arrows at any Agent that got too close.

Bucky and Rhodes went and personally guarded the elevator, while the Agent's number dwindled from injuries.

“Sam, go!” Called Clint, and Sam didn’t wait, he flew up the elevator shaft. Clint rushed off from the rafters.

“So, Spidey is down there and dealing with this,” Detective Lee sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She looked at the kids and smiled softly, “would you like to drive in a few police cars with us?”

The skinniest girl frowned, “can we press the sirens?”

Lee smirked and winked, “of course.”

How can any officer be calm?

Vision was counting, tense, despite not being a human. Clint was the first of the shrinking group to leave, followed by Bucky and Rhodes. Peter had not come out; why?

There was only three more minutes left until he had to pull the fire alarm, and yet Peter wasn’t here. Where was he?

Natasha and Steve silently watched as one of the officers calmed the bleeding boy down with professional techniques.

The door swung open and out stumbled Tony and Thor, the two dragging the limp boss.

Lee stared at the guy, and then grinned, “Mr. Dawson.” She walked over and nodded at Tony and Thor, “good work men.”

Vision flew through the walls, as it was now one minute until he had to set off the fire alarm.

Natasha and Steve walked off to the opposite building, watching the restaurant, with Tony and Thor at their sides. They saw Sam, Clint, Bucky and Rhodes exit the building, the two airborne heroes flying the non-flying heroes, and frowned. Where’s Peter?

The fire alarm went off suddenly, a loud blaring noise. They watched as Vision flew through the building to join them.

Vision lowered, and stood on the building, “has Peter arrived yet?” He asked, watching as people rushed out of the building.

Tony slowly shook his head, “no. Did you see him?”

Vision shook his head and whispered, “no...”

There was a sea of people rushing out of the building, and as the last group of people ran out, Vision noticed red flames licking out of the windows. When did the fire start?

Steve paled, and perked up, “is... is Peter still in there?”

Natasha frowned, “I don’t know...”

“I’m not,” came Peter’s dark voice, making them turn around. Peter slammed Doctor Sidorov into the wall of the roof entrance. “You have pissed me off.”

Doctor Sidorov smiled, his face bloody and broken, “well, you've caught me Spider-Man.” He patted Peter’s hand, which was gripping the Doctor's collar. “You can take me in.”

Peter’s eyes glared, and laughed bitterly, “no. No, see... you’ve been fucking around, and you went into my city.” He sneered, “you’ve gone too far.”

Tony frowned, “Spidey — ”

Clint frowned, “not now, Tony.” He could see something that The Avengers couldn’t see, but what?

Doctor Sidorov frowned slightly, “come on now, Spider-Man. It’s just a bit of fun.”

Thor frowned and looked between the two, before noticing another figure. A small female, in a leather jacket, and long black hair, just watching from the side and sipping on alcohol.

Peter shoved his face into Doctor Sidorov’s face and pulled his mask off, snarling with a dark smile, his nose broken, and his bloody teeth on show. “Nah,” smirked Peter. “You’re not gonna do this again.”

Steve paled, and turned away quickly in realsation, as a yell sounded from Peter, and a loud sickening crack echoed the place. Steve looked over, seeing Peter drop the limp Doctor Sidorov.

Clint sighed, “damn. Knew he had to send a message, but... just damn...”

Peter took a step back, and looked down, his hands clenching, panting. “I don’t remember giving you permission to be here, Jessica.”

“Wade was worried,” the female said, walking over and ignoring the Avengers. She had her hands up in peace. “You killed someone.”

Peter frowned, “I didn’t kill him.”

Jessica Jones, they realised in silent surprise. They weren’t shocked, Peter was friends with every vigilante known to mankind, but it was still a surprise to see her.

“You sure?” Asked Jessica, not amused, as the boy looked over. “He looks dead to me.”

“He’s in a coma, probably will be on life support. If he dies after — ”

“You still killed him,” Jessica interrupted.

“No... he’ll die if they take him off life support. He’s just a vegetable.” Snapped Peter, turning to Jessica. “He deserves it...”

Jessica sighed, and looked at Peter, “Peter...”

Rhodes carefully watched, and frowned, his heartbreaking ever so slightly as a tear trickled down Peter’s cheek, and his chin wobbled slightly, breathing sharp.

“Peter,” frowned Jessica.

Peter gently buried his head into her neck, “just call 911...”

“Doctor Sidorov will live, and will be fine,” assured Director Fury, watching Peter carefully. “No thanks to you.”

“And yet, thanks to me, Hydra will think twice before coming into Queens. And, I stopped the bad guy.” Peter said, without a beat. He wasn’t facing them, he was staring at the door, back to the group, and arms crossed, leaning on the table.

“Peter, you nearly killed him,” said Fury, tone stern. “I’m not going to pretend that you aren’t a vigilante, but at the same time, you went in there with the Avengers — ”

“No,” Peter said, sternly. “They went in with me. I went in as a vigilante.” His head lowered, “if you Avengers wanna let Doctor Sidorov get away again, that’s fine, that’s on you. But, the moment he went into Queens, it became my problem. He became my responsibility. And, unlike you, I gotta make sure people know not to fuck with my city.”

T’Challa and Shuri shared looks, tense. T’Challa had seen Peter lose his cool, but this was different. Doctor Sidorov could die, but it’s more likely he’ll be in a coma for the rest of his life.

Unlike Callum Thompson, in which Peter beat the man up as a punishment, and due to a personal vendetta, Doctor Konstantin Sidorov had gone into Queens, and it was a threat to Peter’s city, this was a warning. This was an ending. Konstantin Sidorov’s beating and the burning restaurant of Outback Steaks was a message to anyone who thought they could go into Queens and get away with doing shady activity. It told people that Spider-Man would get you, and he wouldn’t be friendly.

Wanda swallowed, and pulled at her fingers. “If you was going to hurt him, why couldn’t I come?”

“Because innocent lives weren’t killed, nor sacrificed.” Peter said, without missing a beat, as if he wasn’t bothered that he could have upset Wanda.

Wanda swallowed, she would never get used to that. She liked Hero Peter, he was sweet, kind, friendly, he did what was asked, and comforted everyone, but then again... hadn’t it been Vigilante Peter who had calmed her down from a PTSD flashback? Vigilante Peter was vicious, mean, a monster, and yet was one of the most helpful people around. Hero Peter sugar coated, Vigilante Peter was brutally honest.

Vision held her close, “that was a bit harsh, Peter. I mean, you did burn the building.”

“I waited until everyone was out,” assured Peter. “Wouldn’t have lit the damn thing if there were innocent people in.”

Bruce pursed his lips, “and are those kids okay?”

“They’re fine,” Natasha assured, voice a bit blank and haunted.

Tony stared at Peter’s back. He looked at the muscles, he looked at the spandex that hugged the boy's arms and back, built like a fighter. “Peter... you know what you did was bad, right?”

Peter said nothing, “ask Scott.”

“What?” Asked Tony, confused.

“Scott, was what I did... bad?” Peter asked, not looking over.

Scott was silent, and small, his mind was clouded with thoughts of Cassie. What if that was Cassie in there? What would have happened? Anything. If the Avengers had gone, who knows who would have gotten hurt, who knows who would have lived or died, but it wasn’t. It was Peter. Peter Parker, who went into this as a vigilante, and if it had been Cassie, Scott felt safer knowing that Peter was out there to save his daughter. “In my mind,” Ant-Man finally said, “as a Father not a hero, Doctor Konstantin Sidorov got exactly what he deserved.”

Peter gestured to Scott, “and that is how parents will feel.”

“Not all,” Sam said, sternly.

“No,” agreed Peter. “But most. Aunt May nearly took a tire iron to Skip's head. Uncle Ben stopped her. Daredevil and Deadpool tortured and killed him.”

Rhodes sighed, and looked down. That was proof of Peter’s and Scott’s statement, people who do this to kids deserve it... and parents, some at least, felt the same.

“Peter...” Started Bucky, unsure if he could even continue, even ask what he wanted to ask. He opened and closed his mouth multiple times, like a gaping fish.

“Just say it Bucky,” Peter drawled.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to be a hero?” Steve tried, instead. Stepping in on behalf of Bucky.

Peter’s body tensed and coiled, “no.”

Thor raised a hand, trying to calm his comrades, “now, Peter knows what he’s doing. We cannot push him. He is doing more good down there, than he is up here.”

“You’re acting like the righteous hand of God!” Snapped Fury, slamming his fist down onto the table, ignoring the numb pain that seeped into his hand. It was times like this that he wished Doctor Strange was here to talk the boy down, to reason with the boy, but with the news that Peter had won, Strange stayed at The Sanctum.

It shook and rattled, and yet Shuri couldn’t grin about the stability of her design.

Peter scowled, “no, I’m not!” He snapped out with venom, “I’m just the devil that you forgot!” He turned, and slammed his hand down on the table.

The table shook, rattled, and then horrifyingly, the vibranium table split underneath his fist, cracking and falling to the ground in two, from the mere force of Peter’s strength.

Shuri’s heart dropped; there goes her table.

Peter’s hand clenched. If he was in pain he didn’t show it. “I’m not sorry for what I did,” he said, tone blank. “I’d do it again. But, we’re clearly not on the same page. Don’t you get, I’m a vigilante. If it’s to do with Queens, it becomes my responsibility, which switches it from Avengers Business to Vigilante Business, which means I will treat it as such, I will treat it like how it’s meant to be treated, as vigilantism!”

The teenager stood with his back straight, “and until you can accept that, I am done doing Avengers Business.”

Clint looked up and smiled, “hey Pete.”

Peter looked at Clint, eyes hard and annoyed, “what?”

“They know, they just don’t wanna accept it,” Clint explained, tone gentle and smiling slightly.

Peter frowned, and nodded, “I’m going out. Gonna see Double D.” He looked at Fury, and nodded, “and this is me, done.” He turned and walked out, the doors shutting down behind him.

They watched him and frowned. They knew, of course they knew, how could they not? They just hated it, Peter was meant to be the best... but, maybe he was? He wasn’t tied down to SHIELD, nor to the government, he worked outside the law and saved as many people as possible.

It was just difficult to remember, to accept. It was one thing to see the boy in action, yet a whole other thing to see him in his element. It was jarring. It was hard. But... Peter Parker is a vigilante, not a hero. And they knew that.

After all, it was Peter who got the job done. Not them, not the heroes. But Peter Parker, Spider-Man, not a hero, but a vigilante.