~Broken Family~

Okay, Try Not to Get Confused With All These Time-Jumps

One Year Ago

Peter huddled in the corner of a bathroom, staring at his hands. The veins had a purple tinge and were shaking.

He felt like he was going to be sick. He'd had another outburst, or "episode," as Bruce and Tony liked to call them, after a bully had punched him. Luckily, Flash had showed up exactly half a second later to put the bully in his place. Still was weird that he and Flash were friends now. He kind of expected him to drop the whole thing and admit it was one huge prank at any moment.

With every time he accidentally channeled the stone, he felt his control slipping, the stone taking over more and more of him. He started feeling weaker for longer periods of time even after the purple tinges faded and everything went back to normal, usually throwing up.

But Tony didn't need to know about that.

Forcing himself to stand at the sink, he glared at his reflection. His eyes were bright purple, the whites looking darker than normal. Lines of the same violet shade spiderwebbed across his pale forehead and jaw. They'd been slowly spreading every time he had an outburst, like a reluctant wildfire.

He wondered if it was going to kill him.

***

A button was pushed, and an exhausted Clay was pulled out of a tank of water. He gasped for breath, running a hand with wires taped to it through his hair. A wet cough escaped his lips, water and blood running out of his mouth and onto the floor.

For a fraction of a second, something akin to scales seemed to have sprouted along his neck and the outsides of his arms, but as he was pulled out of the water, they vanished.

A man with a clipboard and a crisp HYDRA uniform stepped closer, scribbling fast enough to please any note-taker. He gave a grudging nod towards the sopping wet boy on the ground, where several people in labcoats fretted around him. They took off the wires and stickers on his hands and head, along with a strange copper thing in his mouth.

Clay touched his throat, staring at the man's shoes.

"You did exceptional, young Albrecht," the man said gently, stooping over to be face-to-face with Clay. The bright light in Clay's eyes slowly faded back to normal green as he took a few more calming breaths. "Did you feel anything?"

Clay hesitated, still panting. "Power," he whispered, rubbing his throat and then inspecting his knuckles, bloodied from banging on the glass. "I felt...strong."

The man nodded, scribbling something else on his clipboard. "Well, the Arbiter will certainly be pleased. With you and that spider-boy, we'll be unstoppable."

Clay gave a silent nod as the man stood, ordering him to the next room where the chair sat.

His knees shook as he pushed himself up off the ground.

He'd let loose a lot of screams in that chair.

Hesitation gnawed at him for a brief moment, and he wondered if this was really the best way to get revenge for his father.

It was squashed as he stiffened, entering the room accompanied by the soldiers like he was trained to do.

Screams made people stronger, after all.