WHAT IF CIVIL WAR NEVER ENDED

WHAT IF:

The Sokovia Accords were the official start of everything.
But if anyone was being honest with themselves, this had been a long time coming.
Probably since the start of the concept of the Avengers Initiative itself.

Or maybe it had been since Steven Grant Rogers first met Anthony Edward Stark.

Or maybe it was some point in the middle.

Peter didn't really know the answer.

All he knew now, was that every day was a constant battle.

Secret Identites were harder than ever to conceal, more and more people were turning against Enanced people such as himself, and the constant, never ending fighting between Team Iron Man and Team Captain America continued.

New York was practically a waste land now.
Broken buildings and burning fires fueled by the scattered signs of what were once peaceful protests.

Graffiti marred each building.
He wondered if other parts of the world were much better.
Liz had called once from Europe. She said it was getting bad over there. He hoped she was okay.

Queens hadn't been hit as hard as other places, and the crime rate was still significantly lower than anywhere else.
Maybe it was because Peter was still trying his best to keep some illusion of order and safety.
Maybe it was Mr. Stark's doing - his attempt to keep the worst of it away from Peter.

Sighing softly, Peter looked down at his wrist.
Sewn into his marred and broken suit, was a bright crimson ribbon with gold around the edges.
The symbol that designated him as a part of Team Iron Man.

He hated it.

It was just one of the many things that now separated him from another part of the world.

Many civilians didn't wear bands or ribbons, chosing to stay neutral.
Others coated themselves with the colours of the side they chose.

Everyone fighting had a colour.
Except Wakanda.
Wakanda had remained neutral throughout it all.
They tried to keep peace.
It's why so many people were now trying to find Wakanda.
Illusion of peace and safety.
Some people were lucky and had friends or family from Wakanda, who were outside of their country at the time of the fallout and could vouch for them.

Others weren't so lucky.

Most weren't so lucky.

Peter swung his legs idly, dangling off of what once was the roof of a packed apartment building, but was now unstable and mostly empty.

The streets were silent.

A protest had recently ended.
It hadn't ended well.
Supporters of both sides had clashed, and what had started peaceful had soon descended into mindless violence and chaos.

Peter was left nursing multiple injuries of varying severity.
Others were left on the streets bleeding and broken.
It had been a better outcome than what the spider powered teen had expected, only five or six confirmed deaths caused by the actual riot.

Mostly just varying injuries.

Better than the main cities, that's for sure.

Peter didn't expect there to be anymore issues tonight, maybe some minor looting, perhaps some arguments that he could easily defuse.
But certainly nothing as violent.
Most people were too injured to move for the next few days, anyway.

That was one good thing, he supposed.
One riot meant that there wouldn't be another big one for another few days.
Less casualties.
Less blood staining his suit from the people he'd failed to save.