Hold Onto Me 'Cause I'm a Little Unsteady

Chapter Eight

(Oof this hecking hurts to write after Endgame ugh I feel like I keep saying that but it's so true)

"I'm starting to hate waking up like this," Peter says, blinking his eyes open to find his wrists strapped down at his sides to the metal bed he's lying on. His ankles are the same with another big one around his stomach, holding him in place. It takes him a second to realize there's another piece of metal. It's encircling his neck. He can't even move his head.

But there's no panic, no overwhelming fear.

Because he's alone.

Harley and Morgan got out. They're safe.

He doesn't mind being trapped in a new unknown location if it means his siblings are safe and far away from here.

"Hello?!" he shouts, testing out the strength of his restraints. There's surprisingly no response, so Peter takes a moment to take in his surroundings.

It's a decently big room, especially compared to the last room he was in. It reminds him a little too much of his lab at home. It's got the tables of equipment, stools pushed underneath the metal tables, beakers of substances littering every surface along with scrap metals and papers. The ceilings are high with bright lights shining down on him. There are even big windows lining the walls like it is at home.

Peter's in the corner of the room, a wall on his left side and one behind his head.

The only difference that Peter can spot is that there's nobody there. The lab at home constantly has someone there whether it's Harley or Peter or Morgan or Tony or even Bruce whenever he comes by. It's rarely ever empty and quiet like it is here.

"I'm waiting for your big long monologue about how much you didn't want to take me, but for science, right? That's what's happening? Where are Elodie and Luc? Are they behind some curtains ready to pop out and make me run again?" he says, rambling absent-mindedly as he tries to think of any way he could escape. Now that he doesn't have anyone else he could endanger, he's willing to try anything.

Finally, the door opens, and a man walks in. Peter's taken aback by how normal he looks. How casual. He's got wavy light hair with grey roots, hazel eyes with wrinkles in the corners, an easy-going expression like he's here to talk to Peter about sports or the weather. He's wearing a pair of sweatpants, a brand name written up the pant leg, paired with a loose t-shirt and only in a pair of black socks, no shoes. He has a pair of simple black glasses on his nose, hiding the little wrinkles under his eyes.

It's so normal. He looks like the type of guy you'd see dropping his kids off at school or in the grocery store or going for walks in the suburbs. He looks average.

But he doesn't say a word, eyes hardening as he walks over to a lab bench and picks up a little remote. It looks like a TV remote from what Peter can make out from across the room.

"Listen, man, I know it's probably so exciting to get your hands on a science experiment and all that, but you could just make one of those volcano things. That could probably win of those prizes at science fairs. I could even teach you. I made one with my little sister for a science fair a couple years ago-"

Peter's voice is cut off suddenly by his own scream of pain. Electricity flows through his body making his back arch and twist, trying to get away from the fire that floods through his veins.

When it stops a moment later, Peter's body collapses back to the metal, panting and staring at the man with wide eyes. This time, he's smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

"You will not speak," the man says, not even losing the simple nonchalance to himself. He tucks the remote into the pocket of his sweatpants and folds his arms over his chest. He looks like he's telling off a child for not doing their chores. "You will not look me in the eyes. You will not make noise. You will not disobey. You got it right, you're a science experiment. You're a mutant. You'll be treated like the freak you are. You're not human, you don't get that sort of decency."