Tin Can boy || Peter Parker

seven

Tate was still reeling from the news that had just been dropped on him even as he was strong armed from his comfortable chair and out of the cell he had woken in. Kris, the man who called  himself Tate's father, led the way while Ae and another guard gripped each of his arms and forced him to follow. The cuffs on his feet didn't allow them to move more than a few inches apart from each other. So walking was a difficulty and the whole process ended up with the two guards practically dragging him along. The guards didn't seem to enjoy the experience any more than Tate did. Kris ignored them all with an arrogance of those above others. (Tate had barely spent an hour in the company of his biological father and already he wanted to punch him. What the heck had his mom been thinking?) 

They dragged him down a small corridor that was lit by dim yellow lights and as concrete as the room he had just left. The exposed bulbs hung from the ceiling and nerve endings but it was already better than the cell. A carpet, old and scratchy, covered the floor and the walls were painted a dark red that reminded Tate of horribly dried blood. It wasn't a great colour but better than the exposed concrete he had been face with before. The corridor was empty, narrow and long. It was barely wide enough to fit the two guards side by side, even with Tate being dragged behind. When they got to the end they were blocked by a second door that Kris unlocked via the keypad. Tate let his hair cover his face and sighed as the door swung open. 

A staircase with the same decor and carpet. Tate let his feet thump against each step as he was carried, probably gaining bruises on his ankles to add to the marks from the cuffs, but he didn't really care. At the top of the stairs a wooden door with another keypad and a different code. Then the door was opening and he was being pulled along into a blinding and rather opulent looking hallway. Cream walls and a new deep red carpet far more plush than the one before. He blinked at the blinding lights and the small chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. "Oooo", he muttered as he squinted around. "Fancy". There was no reply. 

They dragged him about fifteen feet down the corridor and then bustled him through a wooden door to their right. Another long corridor the same as the previous one. No windows. Down that, his feet dragging on the carpet, then through a door to his left. The room beyond was decorated in the same colour scheme as the corridor and had the aura of a hotel room. Floor to ceiling windows covered the wall opposite and the sight beyond made Tate gasp. The room was high above the ground, at least ten stories, and a New York skyline glinted in the light of the setting sun. He hadn't been kept in a basement, the room had just been designed to look like that. It was a trick to disorientate him. They hadn't taken him out of the city at all. It had all been a trick. 

Kris had been watching his face. Tate turned to narrow his eyes at his captor. "You must have a lot of money to fund all this". 

"My business has its benefits", the man gave an arrogant shrug. "Drugs are a big seller". 

"Of course my mom had to fuck a freaking drug tycoon", Tate huffed half under his breath. It was almost funny. Both his parents were into chemistry, just very different worlds. 

"Enough about that. Do what we brought you here for". Kris waved a hand at the desk occupying the middle of the hotel room. It held one computer with three monitors. At his action, the guards dragged Tate over and dropped him heavily into the seat. Tate shook the hair from his face and shot them a annoyed frown. He could feel bruises forming from their grips, skin throbbing and pink. The shine of guns in the guard's belts was enough to remind him of the situation he was in. 

"What was that again?" He asked. Kris slammed his hand on the table with a sudden crack that made Tate jump. 

"Enough cheek. You will find out soon enough that I don't have the patience for it. Now let's get started before I cut off a body part and send it to Mr Stark in a box". His voice was low, threatening and Tate felt his fear spike at the obvious warning. He didn't doubt that this man would do what he promised. Seeing the sudden fear in the boy's eyes, Kris smiled and leaned back. He took a seat on the leather sofa on the otherwise of the desk, under the windows and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. Ae offered a light and soon the smoke was filling the air. 

Tate swallowed and set his fingers on the keyboard. He wanted to go home. It was a lump in his throat and it pricked at his eyes. Still, he set his fingers on the keyboard and his hand on the mouse. "Why don't I hear typing?" Kris blew out a cloud of smoke and narrowed his eyes towards him. At the words, one of the guards stepped closer and pulled a knife from his belt. The blade gleamed as it caught the light and was raised to hover over the exposed skin of Tate's throat. It was half a foot long but that didn't hide how sharp it was. Tate didn't put it past them to kill him, wether he was Kris' spawn or not. The man obviously didn't care about anything than his goals. "If you kill me then no one can hack shield for you", he voiced, trying to keep his tone level. 

"There are other hackers I can pay or steal", Kris waved a hand lazily and the knife was removed. 

"Then why go to the hassle of kidnapping me?" 

"Curiosity about what my son was like. Also, you hack shield often enough that if their servers catch you, they are less likely to respond. Boy who cried wolf. Fitting". His gaze was cold. The smile without humour or genuine happiness. "Now get on it". 

Tate swallowed but didn't move his hands. "And what are you going to do with me afterwards?" There was a tremor in his voice that he tried to smother unsuccessfully. 

Kris' smile grew wider and sharper. He took another drag of his cigarette, the second ticking by as he exhaled. "I guess you will find out when you've done it. But if you don't do it then I will hang your body from the empire state building and slit your throat so that the blood covers the glass. A lovely display for your 'father' to see when he flies past". 

"That's sick". Tate felt sick. If they did that, Tony would not be the first to see it. It would be Peter. He swallowed and set his hands on the keyboard. Kris' smile was smug as the sounds of typing became audible. 

unedited