MAGIC TRICKS [PETER PARKER]

FIFTY-ONE

PETER PARKER startled awake, his legs jerking and knocking the orange jersey from off his body. He frowned, looking at the people next to him: soccer fans, wearing bright orange face paint. One had a fedora with an orange flower on it. "Hi," he said, with a big grin.

Nadia stood a few feet from him at the bars of their jail cell, banging on them and making a loud clanging noise echo throughout the little police station. "You can't just leave him here to bleed out- he needs a hospital! You have to let us out, please! You don't understand!"

After the train had finally stopped, someone called the police on Nadia and Peter for breaking and entering, which is how they ended up in the cell. She tried to convince them that he'd been hit by a train and needed a hospital, but since most of his injuries had been visibly healed, and the blood stains did not show up on his black t-shirt, they didn't believe her and arrested them anyway.

"Where am I?"

Nadia spun around at the sound of Peter's voice. He was awake, finally, and wide-eyed staring at the strange men around them. Relief flooded her body. "They said they found you unconscious at the train yard," said one of the men. Nadia nodded, squatting in front of Peter to examine his face, to check for any serious lasting injuries. "Oh, thank God. I thought you were dead again..." She sighed.

Peter looked down at the orange jersey across his lap.

"We gave you the shirt because you seemed a bit cold," said the third companion, making Peter jump. He hadn't noticed him before now.

"T-thanks..." He made a weird face at Nadia, curling the orange shirt around his arms. "You guys are nice. A-and you speak really good English."

The three friends grinned. "Welcome to the Netherlands."

Nadia straightened her back, looking at Peter worriedly. "Can you stand? We gotta get out of here." She extended a hand.

"The Netherlands..." Peter murmured, before his eyes widened. "Bye!" he said to the three others, taking Nadia's hand and pulling himself up. He doubled over slightly when pain shot through his leg, but Nadia caught him, sliding an arm around his body to help him walk. "I've been trying to get the guard to let us out for the past hour, but he-"

Peter reached a hand through the bars and snapped off the lock instantly, sliding the bars open. Nadia blinked; why hadn't she thought of that?

Hurriedly, they traveled down the hall, lookin for the exit- instead finding the guard wearing Peter's stealth suit mask, talking on the phone saying, "Yeah. Night Monkey. Yeah."

Stopping for a second, Peter gave the distracted man a weird look, before Nadia was pulling him along by the hand.

Once they exited the police station, they found themselves amidst a little village, the smell of fresh bread and livestock surrounding them on all sides. "Do you have any clue where we are? Or a cell phone?" Peter asked, looking down at her as she shrugged on the orange jersey. Nadia shook her head. "No, I... I left it at the hotel. Let's just ask someone."

She held him around the chest, helping him limp toward the nearest market stand. "Hi, uh... excuse me, sir, could we use your phone?"

The stout little man nodded, handing it over immediately. That was a shock. No one in New York would have ever done that so easily.

Peter chuckled, muttering under his breath, "Everyone is so nice here..." They limped a few steps away, and Nadia watched him. "Call Mr. S-" Her voice caught, and Peter met her gaze. They had both been thinking it: Call Mr. Stark.

"Uh... Call Happy," she suggested instead, pushing down the feeling of guilt that rose in her chest. "Call Happy." Peter dialed the number holding it up to his ear, muttering, "Pick up pick up pick up- Hey! Hey, uh..." He glanced at Nadia confirming that Happy had answered. She breathed a slight sigh of relief. "I... I messed up. I need a- I need a ride." He paused. "Where am I? Uh..." Panicky, he looked at the stout man whose phone they were using. "Where are we, sir?"