Kid, tell me what happened: The Sequel

look at my son

Peter Stark-Rogers had a secret that no one else knew about him; he was New York’s one and only vigilante-Spiderman. And not a single person knew of his double life, as he kept his identity a close secret in order to protect his identity, as well as the people that he cared the most for, his Dads. 

He planned on telling his dads about his superhero life, but he just wasn’t sure how to. Whenever he tried to tell his dads the words would get stuck in his throat and his hands would twitch. A part of him was nervous, what if his dads would be angry at him for hiding such a big part of him for over a year? Or maybe they would be upset that Peter was Spiderman, putting himself in constant danger as a superhero. Maybe his dads didn’t even like Spiderman, and saw him as a potential enemy. His dads knew of his abilities from the spider bite, but not what he was using them for. 

The teenager let out a soft sigh as he sat at the foot of his bed eyeing the red and blue spandex suit hanging in the very back of his closet. Designing the suit was one of the best parts, he could put as much tech as he wanted, but when it came to the colors, he had hit a stump. He wanted to accurately express himself, a literal combination of his dad and papa. And then he got it, a bold cherry-red metallic from his dad’s Iron Man suit, and a softer, cooler hue of blue found on his papa’s Captain America suit. He decided to flip on the TV when he read that The Vulture was terrorizing city streets. 

A smile crept up Peter’s lips, his calling. He ensured that his door was locked as he changed into his suit and backflipped out his bedroom window. Peter’s smile widened as he swung from rooftop to rooftop, a fresh supply of adrenaline coursed through his veins sent a well-welcomed wave of exhilaration tingling inside the hero. And within a matter of minutes, Spiderman swooped in front of The Vulture who menaced, “Get out of here, pest!” 

Peter rolled his eyes despite his mask concealing it, spiders aren’t pests. I mean c’mon. He ducked as The Vulture lunged towards him, just missing his head. The teen quipped as he threw a punch at his nemesis, “Criminals are really overrated.” 

The Vulture retorted as he swiped at Peter with one of his wings, the contact drawing blood, and bruises, “Says the boy pretending to be a superhero.” 

Peter ignored Toomes’ words sending a firm roundhouse kick towards the man’s blaster, sending the device clattering to the ground some yards away. Huh, self-defense training with Nat really does pay off. The teenager let out a grunt as he twisted to get the wings off the man who merely used them to send Peter spiraling to the ground. 

The impact was harder than he expected, causing an odd sound to escape his thin pink lips as he felt his lungs clench around nothing. He didn’t need to see his skin to feel the bruises forming all over. He winced as he slowly stood back up, bringing his fists in front of his face. He addressed Toomes, “I can do this all day.” 
Toomes chuckled as he firmly punched Peter in the nose drawing trickling blood, “I’m sure you can.” He lunged for the vigilante, talon-like claws digging into Peter’s flesh. 

Peter stifled a scream as pain shot through his form, tearing holes in his suit in the process. He moved to free himself, but Toomes only held tighter onto a dangling bloody and bruised Peter Stark-Rogers. 

The elder man chuckled darkly as he punched Peter in the nose harder, breaking it. He tutted, “Not so strong now, huh?” He repeatedly kicked Peter in the back, causing the teenager to grunt. With a final kick, Peter was released from Toomes’ claws and went pummelling to the ground. 

Another odd sound escaped Peter’s lips as he felt the breath get knocked out of him as his small form crashed onto cold, hard concrete. His face had blood running down the side of it, as his limbs were weakly outstretched. Peter felt hazy as everything around him spun and blurred, creating an unwelcome wave of nausea that crept up this burning throat. The bruised teenager made no effort to move, feeling nothing but a repetitious sharp, stabbing pain.