The Raft Prison Isn't a Good Home

This is life now?

An hour later, Peter found the strength to sit up. He leaned back against the wall, feeling dried blood on his face from when he had hit his head on the concrete. The wound was still painful, and Peter wondered if he had a concussion. His eyes were definitely not focusing correctly. He heard Sam and Clint talking, but he couldn't bring himself to pay attention to what they were saying.

"Shit, kid, that doesn't look good."

Peter tilted his head to the side to see Scott looking at him with concern. Sam and Clint stopped their conversation, turning towards him.

"Peter? How's your head?" Clint asked, still tense with anger.

Peter gave a small shrug. Talking seemed too hard right now, and he doubted that he could get a full sentence out anyway.

"He looks really pale, guys." Scott's voice was filled with worry. "How much did they shock him with?"

Clint's jaw clenched with frustration. "I don't know. Too damn much. Same as they do with Wanda."

Peter's eyes widened.

Wanda.

He looked towards her cell to see her, and almost flinched in shock. She had moved. Wanda was now facing her glass window, back propped up against the wall.

She was staring past him, eyes distant, like she wasn't really seeing the prison around her.

"Wanda?" Peter's voice was barely a whisper, but Wanda apparently heard it. She blinked, and her eyes focused, now clear.

Peter only had the energy to stare, but she didn't seem to mind. They held eye contact for a while, focus drifting as Sam, Clint, and Scott kept talking.

He wondered if Tony was trying to get him out, if Ross had even told him the truth about where he was. It had been only three days.

Three hellish days in prison.

And he was already starting to break?

The familiar feeling of shame crept upon him, cold and unforgiving. What would Mr. Stark think of him after this? He wasn't capable of being a hero if he couldn't handle a few days in prison.

"Peter? Are you still with us?"

Clint's voice snapped him away from his thoughts. Peter swallowed, his throat still raw from screaming. "Yeah."

He turned his head away from Wanda, seeing the older man's concerned face.

"Good. You need to stay awake for a while, just until night. Your head doesn't look good, I don't want you falling asleep if you have a concussion."

Peter nodded slightly, wincing when the wound in his head flared with pain. His healing factor must've slowed due to the prison's harsh conditions.

Clint gave a small smile. "It'll be alright kid. I promise."

Unsurprisingly, Peter doubted that. Even if they got out of here, he couldn't see himself being the same he had always been. Maybe they'd shocked him enough to make his powers useless. That was their goal, wasn't it? To make sure that he'd never be able to be a threat again?

Whatever their purpose was, their strategy was working.

Peter hated it. He wanted to be strong, to always come back with a witty retort to show his captors they hadn't done anything to him.

But the truth was, he was terrified. This?

This was the scariest thing he'd ever been through. He had no experience, no training for being thrown into a prison in the middle of the ocean.