Irondad and Spiderson

He's Not Coming, Peter

9:30. Pepper’s ropes had released a sort of acid that burned her skin and left it covered in raw, red splotches.

    10:30. Peter had been unlocked from his binds, tied again with normal rope, and been repeatedly dunked under water until he was heaving for air and soaking wet.

    11:30. The clock had just changed, and Aunt May’s smug smile loomed over Peter and Pepper’s exhausted, aching bodies. All they wanted was to leave, to be safe and comfortable again, but it appeared that this was the end of the line. That Tony truly wasn’t coming to save them.

    That maybe, he just didn’t care.

    But that was ridiculous. Because a mere ten miles from where Peter and Pepper were being held stood Tony. Crying, hyperventilating Tony. Slumped over himself on the side of the road, he cried into his hands and attempted to calm his roaring, swirling thoughts. They slammed around inside his head, drowning out the sound of the passing traffic and his racing heart. He had never cared so much about two people in his entire life, and now, he was about to lose them both. And it was his fault.

    Another bout of tears racked Tony’s heart. He’s a failure. The word plays over and over again in his head, splitting his thoughts like poison inside his mind.

    “Sir?” FRIDAY’s voice calls from the suit mask lying several feet to Tony’s right. He snatches the mask and throws it over his head, staring at the screen through bleary, fuzzy vision.

    “What?” His voice is watery with sadness, but the AI doesn’t care.

    “There’s a video I found that I think may be of assistance to you.” A video pops up on the screen, showing Peter in his room at Stark Tower. He’s in his bed, tossing and turning, crying in his sleep. He keeps repeating the same word over and over, but it’s indistinguishable to Tony’s ear.

    “FRI, what is he saying?”

    “Sir, he just keeps repeating ‘the warehouse’ over and over.” With that, the mask goes flying off Tony’s head and he jumps into the air. Gosh, he’s such an idiot. He laughs excitedly, running his hands through his hair.

    “We’re in the endgame now, May. You better be ready” He snaps on his mask, and flies the remaining ten miles to the place where Peter was trapped under the rubble after Vulture collapsed the building.

    Pepper was being half-dragged, half-carried towards a large tower. It was skinny and tall, with a tiny elevator at the bottom. She could have fought; May was not a physically imposing woman. Angry, she was terrifying, but now she had a smug calmness about her that was even worse. Pepper was tired. She was exhausted out of her mind, and every bump, every movement, every breath threw another fit of excruciating pain across her body. Every heartbeat threatened to be her last, as Pepper watched blood pour from the stab wound in her side.

    Peter hadn’t noticed that when Aunt May was using the knife, she had sunk it into Pepper’s side, just above her waist. She had missed all the major organs, but the blood still pooled through it, and Pepper could feel it touching her hands. Warm and sticky. It made her head feel light and her vision grow black at the edges. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, but she kept her eyes open. She kept smiling at Peter as she was dragged away. Because this was it. And she knew it.

    Pepper was thrust into the elevator, landing hard on her side. Biting her lip, she blinked quickly, attempting to keep the blackness from invading her vision even more. The elevator was made of a thick metal, with small glass windows at the very top. Even if Pepper had the strength to pull herself up there, she never would have been able to get through the window.