lacuna || Peter Parker (Spider-Man: Homecoming)

02

Peter woke in a haze of pain and fear. 

His heart raced as he spun his head around. His vision was delayed slightly and the world around him was blurred and a mix of dark greys and browns. He blinked a few times, hoping it could clear his sight. It didn't.

He decided to focus on the cement-grey wall opposite him. He seemed to be in some kind of warehouse; the roof stood many metres above him and the steel structures loomed in the shadows of the dark room. It was a relatively small room, though due to the echoing in Peter's already ringing ears, he knew that the whole warehouse was much, much bigger.

He could also hear footsteps slapping against the floor somewhere nearby, but he couldn't find the strength or the courage to turn and see who it was. He pulled his arms, but didn't get very far; they were shackled by heavy chains, along with his ankles, to a one of the interior walls. He tugged at them, panicked, but they didn't budge. Though, the effort of attempting to pull his wrists free sent a slice of pain up his spine, that resonated in his head. He winced.

"There's no point. Those are uranium chains; unbreakable." Came a clear voice through all the fog in Peter's brain. Finally, a hazy man stepped into Peter's sight, making his heart race.

"Wh-?" Peter began, but his throat seemed to light on fire - it was completely dry.

He heard the man snicker. His voice was cold and distant and had a certain level of maleficence to it - no regret or pity. Peter began to blink again and slowly his vision became a little less blurred and confusing.

The man that stood over him was middle-aged, but years of stress and fights had caused his complexion to wrinkle slightly and his hair begin to grey. And yet he stood six feet into the air.

"You know, ever since that rescue at the Washington Monument, I suspected you." The man continued.

Peter felt his breath latch in his throat and his heart beat - if possible - even faster.

"Liz told me all about you - she sounded pretty upset. Said you didn't turn up for that - what does she do? - decathlon thing, and then, all over the news, a heroic avenger, saving the day once again." He hissed and his cold, brown eyes seemed to darken. Peter felt his thigh throbbing and blood continued to spill from the bullet-wound. As he looked down at the nearly black blood, a dizzy spell hit him and his sight blacked out for a moment. 

"I . . . I don't know what you're talking about." Peter whispered hoarsely. How could he of found out about his identity?

"Oh, I think you do. You know, to prove it, I might just take off that mask of yours." He smirked evilly as he reached his hand out towards Peter's head.

More people, mostly men, had gathered in the room, watching and waiting eagerly. Peter leant into the wall, terrified - if they knew who he was, he would be hunted for the rest of his life. He tried to shoot a web, but nothing worked. Wow, what a time to run out.

"No! Please, don't!" Peter cried, jerking away from the outstretched arm. "Please, I'll do anything, just l-let me go! Sir, please!" He hated this - grovelling at this villains feet, but if anyone ever found out, Tony's whole plan and all the other Avenger's may be at risk.

"Adrian. Call me Adrian - sir makes me feel old." Adrian snarled, before he grabbed the back of Peter's head and pushed it so his chin was in the air, leaving his neck exposed.

"No! No!" Peter whimpered, too weak to resist. The drug they had injected must have been very strong, his whole body seemed to be tingling.

But it was too late - he felt the mask slide off of his face and he took a deep breath of fresh air though still terrified. He heard a fascinated mutter break out around the group of watchers and a few snickers. A low, rumbling growl came from the back of Adrian's throat, which Peter knew to be his version of a laugh.

"What did I tell you?" The man called out to the bystanders. "Did I not say, that this mere boy had been corrupting and ruining our plans?" He sounded almost angry. "And to think my daughter fancied you."

Peter struggled against the cuffs, fear setting in the pit of his stomach. 

He saw the man who had injected him with the drugs step forward, still with his black hoodie on, but this time with the hood down. He looked rough and beaten, with scars on the right side of his face. He had a buzz-cut and stubble growing on his chin and looked un-kept and unhygienic. But the fury in his black eyes made Peter cower.

"This," Adrian waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the man, "is Damien. He has a seven-year-old daughter who lives with his sick and dying wife. He got ditched by Stark a few years ago and lost all his money. He works for me, because I can provide him with enough cash to keep up the treatment for his wife. His family still exists, because of me." Adrian whispered angrily and Peter felt a pang of guilt, though his loyalty towards the Avengers never wavered.

"One of the guys Black Widow attacked a few days ago? His dad just died of cancer and his son has autism, and doesn't get an education. Once again, that man is able to buy food for his remaining family, because of me." Adrian hissed. Peter shivered.

"Me? All I want is for my family to be happy. Those 'heroes' up there in the city; they don't care about us! I want my wife to be healthy and happy and I want my daughter to be safe." 

"So-so you thought selling weapons to criminals was a w-way to solve that?" Peter stammered incredulously.

There was a rush of movement and a few scuffled shouts and then a slash of pain cut through Peter's head. He felt blood drip into his eyes and he screwed them shut.

"You dare!" He heard Adrian shouting. He winced as he bent his neck down to his chest so he could feel the deep cut on his forehead, with his chained hands. He knew it could heal, but head wounds always worried him.

And then there was a strong hand clamping around his throat, lifting his head up. Peter's eyes flung open to see Adrian's cold eyes glaring at him, his face inches from his own. Peter scraped at the hands that squeezed his wind pipe, wheezing. He tried to breathe in but no air went to his lungs. His limbs began shaking uncontrollably as the world began to tip and swirl. His brain was taking air from other parts of his body, leaving them convulsing and 'dying' in a way.

"Pl . . . sto-!" Peter wheezed thickly, seeing yellow and black spots begin to cloud his vision.

"Boss!" Came a sudden yell. The hand released Peter's neck and Peter fell limp in his binds. He could feel bruises forming around his throat, but that came with the relief of fresh air filling his burning lungs.

"Fine." Adrian spat at Peter's feet, that had ceased shaking.

"We agreed on keeping him as alive as possible." Came the same voice that had saved Peter's life. Peter slowly lifted his weak head to see a slightly familiar face. Peter remembered confronting him a few weeks ago in a car-park. He had told Peter the whereabouts of Adrian at the time. Of course, the whole Ferry incident hadn't ended well, but Pete still felt a small and still sort of deflated bubble of hope begin to grow. 

The man looked away uncomfortably.

Then Damien was bending down in front of Peter and that hope faded quickly at the sight of the merciless black eyes. He gulped and Damien sneered. 

"We have some business to attend to - in the meantime, don't try anything stupid." His voice was raspy and dry. He stood straight again and Adrian nodded in satisfaction. The many people who worked for the villain filed out of the room, through a large, metal door. After a minute or so, Adrian got to the doors, having waited 'ever-so-kindly' for everyone to leave first.

"I'm sorry about all this." He said, turning around to look at Peter, who was still limp and sore. Peter didn't answer - Peter couldn't answer.

"This is only gonna hurt a little." Adrian whispered.

And then Peter was on fire.

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