Irondad and Spideyson One-shots

Just Peter Parker (part 3)

Peter isn’t sure how long he’s asleep, if sleep was even the right word.

He was unconscious, his body drained from the pain- both emotional and physical. It was like his entire body shut down, almost mirroring the time where he and Tony had to reboot FRIDAY when she went into system overload. Or when he turns off the WIFI router and turns it back on in hopes that it will work. 

When he wakes, he’s sore. His entire body screams for him not to move, for him to lie there on the cold pavement and not get up. But he doesn’t need his spidey-sense to know that something was wrong.

No hushed whispers from his friends, no MJ trying to calm them down while Ned hyperventilated in the corner. No Harley, sitting by his side and trying to get Peter to stand. To keep fighting. Despite the pain, he sits up and scans the darkened prison cell. 

They’re Gone…

The room is silent, and he is completely alone. 

The crackling sound of static sounds again, reminding him that he’s never truly alone in this room. He’s being watched.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” Harry’s voice sounds over the speakers once again. “I was afraid we’d killed you. What good would your friends be if you were dead?”

“What did you do with them, Osborn!” Peter yells, standing to his feet. There’s a new found strength; one of vengeance, one of fear, and of sheer determination. 

“It’s not Osborn, not to you. When I said I’d carry my father’s legacy I meant it. My father donned the name green goblin. I’m now the HobGoblin. New villain, and the one responsible for Spider-Man’s downfall.”

The boy can’t help but laugh. Of all the villian names he could’ve chosen, he went with:

“The HobGoblin? Do you realize how stupid that sounds?”

“I would hold your tongue if I were you, Parker. After all, we do have what you want.”

“Peter!!” A feminine voice rings out. It’s muffled, likely farther away from the microphone.

“MJ? MJ I’m on my way-” He’s cut off by a heart-breaking scream. He has to get to her, and after that the ‘hobgoblin’ will be history.

The static cuts out, and Peter’s once again left in silence. Enraged, he runs over the cell door, banging on the metal with closed fists. His efforts are futile; had he still been Spider-Man, he would be able to do this. But like he told Harley, he’s Just Peter Parker. 

“He said, and I quote, ‘I’m proud of you, Pete’. He didn’t say Spidey, or Spider-Man. Because he was proud of you, not Spider-Man.”  

His brother was right. And at the moment, Peter Parker seemed like their only hope. Peter had nowhere near the strength he had as Spider-Man. No enhanced hearing or agility. But he was just as smart now as he was before, and it seems like that’s his only option. 

The teen paces back and forth across his cell, waiting. He’s got a plan; a stupid one, but a plan nonetheless. Mid pace the door swings open, revealing the same guard as before.

Okay Parker, you got this.

He takes a step backward, his behavior radiating nothing but fear. The man’s laugh echoes off the cell walls, and Peter can only imagine what he sees. A weak teenager, terrified and in pain. Well one thing his aunt Tasha taught him; never underestimate your opponent. 

The guard grabs Peter roughly by the arm, and Peter takes his chance. Instead of pulling away, he pushes forward, running straight into the giant. 

The more you try to pull away, the less likely you are to get free. Push toward your opponent baby spider, and they will stumble.
 
Just as his Mother Spider had said, the man was confused and stumbled backward. He didn’t fall, but it was enough. Peter uses the moment of confusion to reach for the gun resting in it’s holster.

He grabs the weapon, holding it tightly as he pulls it away. The guard seems to catch on quickly, letting go of Peter to try and reclaim the gun but he’s too late. It’s already in Peter’s hands, and is aimed directly at the man’s chest. 

“You move, and I shoot.” Peter echoes the very words this same man had recited to him countless times. 

“Listen kid, you don’t want to do this-”

“You don’t know what I want!” Peter shouts, venom dripping from his words. “I want to get my friends. I want to go home. And for once in my life, I’m going to get what I want.”

Peter readies his finger on the trigger. 

He can’t do it- he can’t shoot him.

Instead he grabs the vibranium cuffs from the man’s belt, along with the key card used at security scanners. Peter cuffs the man’s hands behind his back and flees, the gun in one hand and the security badge in the other. 

“You won’t find your friends.” The man sneers, just as Peter steps into the hall. The boy ignores him, closing the cell door. He can’t feel the pain anymore; pure adrenaline is rushing through him.

Taking off, he runs toward the one door he knows. The lab. Peter storms inside, gun raised. The only one in the room is the doctor. The one who has made the past week or so a living hell. The one who took Spider-Man from him. 

“Where are they?”

The doctor backs away in fear, his hands raised in surrender; “They’re in another part of the building- heavily guarded.”

“Show me.” Peter hasn’t lowered the gun, not wanting this man to have any opportunity to attack. 

“You can put down the gun- I’ll help you. I’m going to die anyway, I may as well die having done the right thing.” Peter takes a moment, then nods, lowering the gun.

The doctor sighs in relief before walking over to one of the several computers in the room: “Here.”

Peter hesitantly joins him, watching the screen as the doctor types in a series of passwords and codes. Soon after, a map of the building appears. It’s bigger than he’d anticipated, and a small bit of hope fades. 

“How do I get to my friends?” He asks, his voice breaking slightly. The man points to a series of rooms on the other end of the building. 

“They’re being held in a cell on the floor just below us. After you’ve found your friends there’s another staircase at the end of the middle hallway. Take the two flights of stairs then follow the signs to the emergency exit.”

Peter stairs at the map, committing it to memory. Every twist, turn, and escape route he could possibly use. When he’s done he faces the man who’s had the courage to help him. 

“Thank you.”

“Just get out of here, Mr. Parker. Get your friends and get as far away as possible.” Peter nods, determined.

“I will, sir. Or I’ll die trying.”