****THIS STORY IS DISCONTINUED****
You were assigned by Fury to follow Peter around while he was in Europe to make sure he does what he's supposed to, but what happens when he's not ready to face the fight?
He always thought of Mj as the girl he wan...
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Peter Parker was exhausted; mentally and physically. Mysterio had put him through hell and back, forcing him to see your mangled figure and traumatizing him with the zombified ironman. It's funny, in more of an ironic way, now that he thinks about it. Both Starks haunted him in that hellish nightmare encounter.
No matter how hard he tried, Peter couldn't make those thoughts leave his head. It plagued him like a disease, and with every passing minute he grew more and more anxious. He needed to see you stand in front of him, and assure him that you were okay.
His entire body throbbed; even with his rapid healing it still caused him to hiss out pain whenever he would apply too much pressure to certain areas that were more bruised than others. Being hit with a train comes with repercussions, even if he is Spiderman.
He didn't know when, or how, but he had eventually fallen asleep on the train and woken up in a jail cell. He felt completely out of place, staring at the room, with bars blocking his view. God, he never wanted to be in this position again.
As he quickly regained consciousness he felt a searing pain in his neck; a bothersome tick that just added onto the stress that had already been piling up. Great.
He noticed a few other guys sitting around in the cell with him, and he wondered if he should be on the defensive side. Seeing the two men in orange and white face paint smiling at him as he woke up, however, didn't really concern him much.
"Hi," the man closest to Peter greeted him. No sinister undertones evident enough for Peter to pick up.
Peter adjusted his body slightly, "where am I?" he hastily questioned and rubbed his sore neck.
Another man leaned into view, his face painted with bright colors, "Municipal holding facility."
Peter looked down at his battered arms and sighed inwardly. Nice, a holding facility. He couldn't even begin to imagine who had picked him up last night.
He reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. His first instinct being to text you, but his hand was met with an empty pocket. As if his day could get any worse.
Unbeknownst to Peter, you were in the next town over, feverishly checking your phone to see if Peter had answered any of your texts.
Peter exchanged a few words with the three guys sitting between him, and found out just how unlucky he was.
"I'm in the Netherlands," Peter chuckled out in disbelief, "right, what's going to happen next? Actually, I don't want to know."
The three men gave each other odd looks as they watched Peter mumble to himself. Nonetheless, they didn't question him further.
