Spyder and The Avengers

Chapter 41- A Reunion of Sorts

I groaned and rolled over. And fell off the cot onto the cold, hard, and very dismal concrete floor.

"Schist," I muttered, rubbing my eyes.

My eyes. I had no freaking mask on. I checked my pockets, and it wasn't in there, either. And Peter's Spider-Man mask was gone, too.

"Double schist," I said louder, getting to my feet.

I looked around at the small, bleak cell I was in. There was a small cot in the far corner, but that was it.

Then, I heard Tony's voice come on over the intercom: "Pepper Parker, it's about time. How are you feeling?"

He knew my name. They all did.

"Triple schist!" I yelled back.

"...Right. I feel you. Now, we're going to let you out, if you promise to remain calm. Do we have a deal?"

I folded my arms across my chest, contemplating his offer. The pros were that I could stretch my legs, which felt all stiff. The cons were that I had to face Peter and the gang.

I made my decision.

"Sure, Tony," I said.

The wall developed a seam, which turned into a shape, which turned into an open doorway. I gaped at the super-advanced tech and hurried through the already-shrinking doorway.

I bumped straight into Peter on the other side. I backed up, blushing furiously, and mumbled an apology.

He put a warm hand on my shoulder and tilted my chin up until I looked him the eyes. I could tell; he was worried about me.

"Pepper?" Peter asked. "Are you okay?"

I looked down, still red. "I g-guess so..."

The webhead frowned. "Are you sure? You don't seem... yourself."

I shrugged. "It's j-just a lot to take in..."

"Can we get a cup of water for Spyder, Jarvis?" Peter's voice rang out.

"Of course, right on it," responded the A.I.

The wall opened up until there was a water bottle visible inside. Peter reached in and brought it out. He grinned and handed it to me.

I gulped the ice-cold water down thirstily.

When I was done, the empty container faded from my hands like a dying projector's last image. There was some serious science behind that.

Suddenly Peter's head jerked up. He narrowed his eyes, putting a finger on my lips to silence me.

"Peter," I hissed, pushing his hand away from my face. "What's wrong?"

He shushed me, concentrating on something.

Then I felt it too. My supersenses were tingling like crazy, and were intensifying with every second.

I heard the crackle of flames and my eyes widened. I tackled Peter to the floor just as the window exploded, sending razor-sharp shards of glass flying everywhere. Needle-like shrapnel dug into my body. I gritted my teeth against the pain and looked down at Peter. He was unconscious, probably knocked out by a piece of debris. I saw that he was beginning to bleed, right above his left temple.

Staying absolutely silent, I heard the flames hiss out and a crunching on top of the wreckage. I swore in my head, tearing a piece of my jean leg to use as a makeshift bandage for Peter's head.

After securing the bandage, I made Peter as comfortable as I could on the debris. Then I snuck up to the corner and listened for the advancing footsteps.

I heard nothing, but my supersenses made me so jumpy that I could barely stand still. There was definitely something out there.

Suddenly, a wall of fire blasted around the corner and nearly roasted me to a crisp. I scampered back, just in time.

Then I looked down and saw my new suit on the floor. It looked more... skintight and high-tech. My mask was lying on top of the pile, neatly folded. Hands shaking, I unfolded it and nearly gasped aloud.

The eye holes I had cut with safety scissors were much, much bigger and clearer to see through. In fact, the material covering the eye parts seemed to be almost... I touched them. Yup, definitely glass. Probably bulletproof.

Hearing the ever-ominous footsteps return, I quickly changed into my suit and yanked my mask on, pulling the hood up over with trembling fingers. I had never realized how stressful these types of situations could be.

Well, until now, that is.

All of the sudden, a figure appeared from around the corner. I let out a tiny gasp.

It was Marceline, in all of her villainous glory: high black stiletto boots, the shortest hot pink miniskirt in America, a revealing sleeveless magenta v-neck, and fancy black sunglasses to top it off. In other words, she looked like... well... like my worst nightmare.

I guess she was.

When she looked up at me through her undeniably smoldering shades, she smirked.

"Ah, Spyder," Marceline whispered, drawing closer. "So we meet again."

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<·<Pepper_B_Parker*Alias:_Spyder*Position:_S.H.I.E.L.D._agent>·>

Intense. That's my one-word description. You're welcome.