The Broken Spider-Man - A Peter Parker Fanfiction

Chapter Thirty - The man behind it all

TW: mentions of death, mentions of trauma.

Y/N's P.O.V

Muffled sounds surrounded me, filling my head with confusion and pain as the drug that they'd injected into me started to wear off and I started to wake up. Small groans left my lips as my eyes fluttered open, memories of what had happened flooding back as I raised my head. My eyes widened, tears starting to prick my eyes as I looked around the seemingly abandoned warehouse. I looked down and gulped harshly as my hands were tied behind the back of the chair that I was sitting on and my legs were tied to the two front legs of the chair. Brilliant, I thought as I looked up again.

"Hello?! Is anyone here?!" I yelled, my throat already sore from a lack of water whilst I was unconscious. And I still wasn't sure how long that had been for.

"If you're going to kill me, just fucking do it! Because I won't be bait, AGAIN, for you to trap Peter with!" I screamed.

"That's where you're wrong, sweetheart." I looked ahead again and gulped as a figure started to emerge from the shadows at the end of the warehouse. My eyes widened as I recognised the man immediately, but as someone that I'd not at all expect to have kidnapped me.

"You're...Liz Allen's dad." I scoffed as he walked towards me. He laughed loudly, making my eyebrows furrow in confusion. What the fuck was going on here, what was I missing?

"Is that all that you know me as? Peter hasn't told you how he's affiliated with me, has he?" he chuckled. I looked at him, my head filling with questions as I desperately tried to work out what I was missing in this fucked-as-shit situation.

"Peter only told me that he was Spider-Man a year ago." I admitted quietly. He laughed again and smirked as he walked towards me more, making me gulp and fidget in my chair.

"I'll tell you how I know ole' Pete. Back in twenty-twelve, after the New York attack, I made a decent buck from developing all of the alien tech left behind from the war. I also made myself a neat little wing suit that earned me the name 'The Vulture'. But your little boyfriend, Peter, stopped me. Got me ten years in prison. If it wasn't for my team of dedicated guys, I'd still be there." He nodded. I gulped and looked at him as I remained at a loss for words.

"I don't know what you want me to say. Do you want me to feel bad for the fact that my boyfriend put you behind bars for a crime that you definitely committed, and you therefore deserved the prison time for?" I spat. He chuckled and shook his head as he looked down at his hands.

"I don't want you to say anything, sweetheart. I want you to sit here, like a good little girl, and be the bait that we need you to be." He nodded.

"You can go fuck yourself if you think that I'm going to do that." I spat. He stuck his tongue in his cheek and smiled to himself as a thug walked towards him, holding a roll of grey duct-tape.

"I had a feeling that you'd say that." He stated as he took the duct tape from the thug and ripped a piece off. I rolled my eyes, the stereotype being so cliché as he leant down and pressed the duct tape to my mouth to silence me.

"You're not going to like this next part." He smiled and shook his head, making me gulp as another thug walked up to me. My eyes widened, my heart starting to pump harshly in my chest as my eyes landed on the trigger button that he held in his hand. I'd seen enough of them in my time as a journalist to know what that small red button did. And it wasn't anything good.

"No, no, fuck you, no." I choked and shook my head, though my words were muffled as I desperately tried to pull my hands out of the restraints.

"I'm guessing that you're freaking out because you know what this is, yes? Smart girl." The Vulture chuckled, making me shake my head as tears started to leave my eyes.