Tin Can boy || Peter Parker

four

When Peter swung down to land outside the cinema, it was just in time to catch the black dressed goons trying to pile into their vans and escape. It was painfully easy to catch them by surprise and web up five together just as the vans pulled away with screeching tires. He made sure to get a clear glimpse of their plates for Karen to send to Tony. He webbed the five struggling men to the ground to stop them from escaping before jumping through the ruined glass doors and into the cinema. 

"Five men caught. About ten more escaped but I know the plates", he stated aloud. The other line was still slightly static with flight but Tony's voice was loud and clear. 

"Good, kid. The place has some cctv, FRIDAY is hacking it now. Be down in two minutes". 

Peter glance round the glass filled lobby. Alarms were blaring and they stung his ears so sharply that he couldn't help but wince. A family of three were behind the counter along with two employee, all of which looked scared but unharmed. 

"Spiderman! Holy shit!" A familiar voice made him whip his head around. Abe was peering through the door of the men's toilets. As Peter bounded towards them, people started exiting. First was a couple, who seemed rather shaken. Then Abe, Jason, Callum and charley exited one by one. They looked unharmed but Charley's eyes were wide and his arms were wrapped tightly around his best friend. Jason was slouched and pale, while Abe as shaking with adrenaline. 

"Are you all okay?" Peter asked as Karen scanned them all for injuries. 

"We're fine", Callum answered. He was the least shaken but he had a death grip on his phone and Charley's hand. "They weren't after us. Tate went through those doors a few minutes ago. Then after a minute all the bad guys came running back out". He pointed and Peter was already turning before he could finish. 

"You guys just hang there. I'll be back". Then he was bursting through the theatre doors so hard that they bounced off the walls. The room was half lit but he could still make out people sitting in their seats, some crouched down in an attempt at hiding. His sharp sight swept over them with barely a pause. No familiar form. No Tate.  

"Where's the boy?" He called, making sure not to use Tate's name. A group of teens on the highest seats all pointed in synch towards the emergency exit on the other side of the room. Peter jumped across the room in an instant and as he landed, his heart plummeted. There, half under a seat, was a familiar skateboard. And on the floor, the material bunched and leaving the door ajar, was a recognisable hoodie. He snatched them both up. The wood of the board was cracked and a red substance was smudged across it. Blood. The hoodie had a rip in the collar, the navy blue material stretched out of shape as if it had been pulled on. The knowledge didn't help with anxiety in his gut. 

He pushed the door open and down the corridor to the next one. The alley was empty when he burst out. Nothing but bins and cardboard boxes. Peter yelled in frustration and gripped the hoodie tightly. No Tate. But on the floor, his eyes alighting on the objects as he looked down, was a familiar phone and a set of AirPods. Next to which was a small metal dart. Peter bent down to pick them up and the needle of the dart glinted red. 

"Peter? Kid?" Tony's voice echoed in his ears now that the blaring alarms were quieter. "I am just landing". 

"Yeah. Here Mr Stark. He's gone. We were too late", Peter stuttered in reply. "But I think I've found something". Then he tucked Tate's phone and aipods into the material of his hoodie, keeping a tight grip on the dart as he jumped and swung over the building to the front entrance where Iron man had just turned off his engines. 

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Tate woke to a fuzziness in his head and a grimy taste in his mouth. The return to conciseness was slow and an effort that left him feeling groggy and vaguely nauseous. He was aware of sitting down but the chair was much more comfy than he expected. The comfiness was deterred by the fact that his wrists were zipped together in his lap and his ankles seemed to be handcuffed. The air was also cold in a way that suggested a draft room but the sounds echoed enough to state that the room wasn't much bigger than twenty feet. Also it was the cold of stone and when he subtly moved his feet, they rewarded him with the hardness of concrete under his shoes. A cough made his breathing flutter. He was not alone in the room. 

He blinked open his eyes. There was a man sat in a wooden chair by the door to his left. He was wearing a simple black suit and smoking a cigarette. The dark hair and golden skin tone suggested that he was asian. The smoke was disappearing out the small air vent just above him. Tate glanced around. The door was wooden but looked solid. It was pained black, like the rest of the room. The dark colour gave it a suffocating feeling and only the bare light bulb in the ceiling offered any light. What surprised him was that the chair he was slumped in was a brown leather armchair with thick cushioning and completely out of place with the room. (He wondered it he could get it to recline). His clothes were still the same but his thin tshirt was not warm enough for the room. 

"What time is it?" He asked. His voice was rough and it bounced off the walls despite the low volume. When he swallowed, it was with a wince. His hands rose to push his hair out of his face and he winced. The zipties weren't tight enough to completely cut off blood flow but still tight enough that he could feel them cutting into his skin. 

The guard glanced at his watch. "Four fifty two". His words held a slight accent but it wasn't distinguishable enough for Tate to guess from where he was from. Tate sighed. The film was supposed to start at two pm. He had been held captive for almost three hours. 

"Aww come on", He whined. "I missed my movie. It was a reshowing of Evil Dead. I was excited for that". He sighed loudly, eyes catching on the camera blinking at him from the corner of the room. He pulled a face at it and flicked it his middle fingers. "It's my freaking birthday tomorrow too", He muttered with a sad huff. The guard simply took a puff of his cigarette. 

Tate waited for a few seconds as he got more comfy in his seat. This was his third kidnapping that had actually succeeded, but if he was talking about attempt then this would be his seventh. They tended to get old after the second attempt. "Hey", he called to the guard. The man didn't react. "Is this about the muffin man? I told dad that it would get us into trouble one day, but he just had to go with it". 

"The muffin man?" the guard frowned. Tate tried no to grin. 

"The muffin man!" He exclaimed as he wriggled in his seat. "You know. The one who-"

"Lives on Drury Lane", the guard finished. Then he sighed as Tate burst into laughter. The man muttered something under his breath. Tate didn't hear it clearly enough to catch what language it was, but it definitely want English. 

"I wish I could have recorded that", Tate giggled. "My boyfriend would love it". He had definitely  been spending too much time with Peter because that joke sounded like something he would say, but it was rather boring in this room. 

"So, why am I here?" He asked once he had stopped chuckling. "Cause my dad is coming to get me, you know. He always comes". His stomach rumbled and he huffed at the betrayal. He was hungry, really hungry. Thirsty too. "Can I have some water?" 

The guard sighed and dropped his cigarette. It was ground under one shoe as he stood and turned to the door. The knock echoed through the room and a second later the door opened and the guard slipped through. Tate didn't get a chance ton glimpse anything outside before the door was shut once again and there was a click of the lock. He rested his head on the plush leather and shut his eyes. His stomach churning with nerves. 

unedited