Consequences Be Damned

Prologue

It had been 4 weeks. 4 weeks since that day. The day the world, the Universe, had lost its fiercest defender. 4 weeks since he had lost his mentor, his protector. The man who had pulled him back from certain death.

It had taken some time for him to even wrap his mind around what had happened that day. Waking up on Titan, remembering what had been done to them. Before. It had felt like 10 seconds to him but it had been years in the real world. They had to collect themselves before Strange had them form ranks - well, as best as it was possible to form ranks with the Guardians. And then the Wizard had to group together and coordinate every other hero Earth had to offer.

The fight was over so fast, so much happened in such a short amount of time and Peter went through so many emotions in the blink of an eye. Hope. Excitement. Fear. Exhaustion. Shock and grief. The same kind of grief he felt now, sitting on the cold floor with his back leaning against the wall of a dark room somewhere in the basement of the New York Sanctum. The grief hadn't left him. He was pretty certain that it never would. Not like it did with his parents or uncle Ben. That had been different. He wasn't in control then. He'd had no powers.

Not this time though. This time he had simply failed. He hadn't been strong enough, not fast enough, not clever enough. It was a realization that had come slowly seeping through his every pore as the initial shock had worn off. There were phases to all this, he knew that. Survivor's guilt and the feeling of not having done everything, he could have done. Those had come to him slowly and gradually, but a different phase had hit him less than a day ago without any warning and all at once. Rage. Rage and the yearning for retaliation. And while the grief had stayed with him through all these weeks, it was rage that was his driving force now.

He would be lying if he were to pretend that punching Merlin, the Wizard Supreme, in the face repeatedly hadn't been fueled by exactly that rage. And he wouldn't even pretend that making the Doctor's face bleed hadn't left him feeling better than he had in weeks. Stuck in one of the rooms of the Sanctum's basement, he had been looking around. With nothing to do, he pondered how much money they could make with this much empty space in such a prime NYC location. They'd only have to upgrade a few of the rooms. This was New York City, it didn't have to be a temple of luxury to make a ton of money. Or at least enough not to worry about buying the odd deli. Mr. Stark would have turned this place into a goldmine. He had always known how to get the best—

No. Peter buried his face in his hands. He wasn't going there. He was in the rage phase. There was no room for what his dead mentor would have done in the rage phase. Peter knew perfectly well what Mr. Stark would think of his actions here today. And he would savor that thought for when he was back in his own bed, drowning in self-pity and tears.

Now was the time to hand out some karma and his rage was only boosted by his own frustration. It was embarrassing how long it had taken him to figure out who exactly was to blame for Mr. Stark's death. (Well, except for Thanos, but he could hardly make the purple asshat pay unless you'd count stomping on the big pile of dust, which Peter didn't.) Peter would have to settle for the smaller fish, as it was only right to do for the apprentice. How he could have been this blind for weeks enraged him even more. And judging by how restrained the wizard had been when he had been fighting Peter off earlier, he was certain that he could land one or two additional punches before the day was done.

When Strange had first locked him in that room, he tried to feel out the place. But it became apparent to him very quickly that the wizard's magic tricks were interfering with his Spidey-Senses. That's why it took him by surprise when he felt movement down the hallway where he was kept. It was clear to him that someone was heading towards him. He stretched out his fingers, wiggled them in an attempt to shake off the strain they had suffered from the Doctor's cheekbones. He knew he would have to be fast if he wanted to strike again before the wizard was able to incapacitate him.