The Life That Pietro Saved

8.0

"Lock door. Stay in here." He told the woman.

"I can help!" Peter exclaimed.

"No."

"But I've got the spider powers-"

"Peter, no! Stay in here. Do not come out until I come get you."

And with that, he turned back down the hallway.

Three agents were trashing the place. He drew his weapon, shooting one guy in the head.

Before he could register what was happening, a villain grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him up till he was at full height.

"You prick. You disgust me." The masked man scoffed. "Tell me where Rogers is."

"At the moment, I do not know."

"Tell me!"

"Even if I did know, I would not tell shit."

And with that, he pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through the body of the threat.

He dropped to the ground with a yelp, his chair tipping to the side.

Escaping was useless so he fired rounds into the assailants until the were both dead on the ground and his gun was out of bullets.

He was stuck on the ground, leaning on his arms and had his legs splayed awkwardly in front of and under him. The sokovian panted hard, back raging intensely and he was on the verge of a panic attack.

He heard a door open.

Peter's door.

Footsteps came down the hall. They weren't light like Peter's, they were adult's.

The woman, Dylan's mom, let out a shocked sound when she saw the scene.

Four bodies lay on the ground, blood pooling around them and in the center of it all, a young paraplegic was sitting on the floor, still shakily gripping the gun.

"A-are you alright?!" Her voice was shaky, uncertain.

"Yes." He gasped between heavy breaths. "The bad guys, not so much."

The lady let out a nervous laugh.

Pietro began to try and tug his chair upright, other arm slipping and causing him to fall flat on his back. The chair didn't budge.

He pulled his legs up in front of him as he tried to move again.

"Sir, do you need help?" She asked timidly. She looked at him almost as though a mother would look at her child.

"Maybe a bit." Pietro laughed.

The girl tipped his chair upright. Pietro immediately tugged himself up onto the footrest. The woman extended a hand that the speedster accepted, putting his other hand in the seat and pulling himself into it despite the intense pain.

"Pietro." He shook her hand.

"Mary." She blushed.

"Could you, ah...could you tend to the kids for a second? I need a minute."

"Of course." She obliged.

Mary left, heels clicking on the floor.

Pietro took a prescription painkiller with a bottle of water. He knew it was only a matter of time until the next wave hit.

He figured it would be best to prepare.

Loading bullets into the gun, he set it on the counter and left to change his sweat soaked shirt. He slid on one of Clint's tank tops, not caring about his scars right now so much as convenience. Five white, round scars stuck out against his slightly darker skin.