PTR Arachnid 24601

Ch 23 - Numb again

IMPORTANT A/N AT THE BOTTOM

WARNINGS: Mention of self-harm (barely), and a teensy bit of blood

3rd POV

It had been a week since Stark's birthday and Peter was spending his morning in the training room. He had been frequenting the room since his first little expedition here. The double-reinforced punching bags were a huge hit with him. Much like for Steve, they provided a good outlet for his internal frustration and struggles. (And as a bonus, his knuckles would bleed and the pain would feel bizarrely comforting). He'd spend hours there, to the point where somebody would sometimes have to remind him that food and rest weren't options, but necessities.

Natasha had just left after their sparring match, claiming as she rubbed a bruise forming on her side, "Superhumans and their ridiculous super-stamina. I swear I can't take this anymore".

Peter was currently shucking off his completely sweat-drenched shirt, wrinkling his nose at the overpowering smell. He heard the noise of a door opening behind him, figuring it was an Avenger coming inside, and shrugged it off, going back to his punching.

Fist after fist collided with the thick leather, loud thwacks echoing of the smooth, white walls. Little droplets of blood from his wrecked knuckles were staining their bandages and splattering the leather, dripping all over the place. The hate inside him was almost at a boiling point, each punch losing more and more of control in the power department. Through the white noise of anger and thwacks filling up his ears, Peter heard multiple voices talking in what sounded like amazement. Huh, that's odd.

The next punch was his final one, as it had nearly no control at all and ended up ripping the punching bag, sand spilling out onto the floor. That caused all the murmurs to turn into gasps and various astounded comments. Okay, even weirder.

Peter looked up towards the source of the noise; a group of teenagers around his age, a man in his either thirties or forties, and a man in his twenties. Oh, okay that makes more sense. What are they doing here? The teens had their jaws agape, eyes wide and confused. Spider suddenly remembered that normal people aren't used to this level of power, especially for someone who is seemingly a human teenager.

"Hello. May I help you?" he asked in attempt to get them to talk.

The younger of the two men spluttered, unsure of whether he should actually question this kid after seeing him break a punching bag with his bare fists. "I– uh, well– I'm sorry to interrupt anything but, uh, what are you doing up here? These levels are restricted for Avengers and close-friend access."

Peter recalled when Tony had warned him about seeing other people in the tower, specifically the odd tour that might happen on these high floors. He was now aware that the employees of the building and, quite frankly, the world, don't know who he is. So, after Mr. Stark said he could roam around the tower––specifically the training room––as he wished, they sat down to discuss a cover story for the ex-assassin.

"I'm Mr. Stark's personal intern," Spider replied simply. "You must be a tour, correct?"

"Y-yeah. We're the Midtown School of Science and Technology's Academic Decathlon team. We– we were given permission to tour on some of the higher levels. We won the National Championship...?" the older man informed nervously as the group slowly advanced, then stuck out his hand. "I'm Roger Harrington. N-nice to meet you."

"I would shake your hand but I don't think you want blood on that nice shirt of yours," Peter remarked, forcing an easy smile. "I'm Peter Parker. It's a pleasure."

Mr. Harrington nodded and gulped, lowering his hand awkwardly as he eyed the teen's bloodied fists.

"Teenagers aren't offered internships here, let alone be Mr. Stark's personal intern," the guy in his twenties commented. Then under his breath, "I didn't know Mr. Stark even had a personal intern." He raised his voice to the regular level again, "Do you have ID?"