Adopted by the Avengers

16: *Stranger Things music*

Tony 3rd person

They end up calling Ned, Peter's friend and ask him why Peter never showed up.

"He got picked up at school."

Tony frowns. "Picked up? By who?"

He knew before Ned said it. "His aunt."

"Shit." He ran a hand through his hair. Peter was picked up by his abusive aunt and has been there since 2 according to Ted, and right now it's 7. Shit.

Images of what could have -be- happened to Peter run through his head and it only makes him panic more. His hand circles his left wrist and he squeezes it.

"What's wrong Mr. Stark? Is something wrong with him? Is he in trouble?"

On another occasion, he might've picked up on the worried sound of Neds voice, but being in the midst of a current anxiety-griping life situation, he was occupied.

"I'm gonna have to call you back, okay? Just- don't tell anyone I called you and asked. You- you probably won't see him at school tomorrow. Bye."

He ended it before Ned could respond, walking down the hall quickly to Natashas room. He knocked, and continued to knock until the door left his knuckles revealing Natasha.

"What."

"Peter was picked up from school by his aunt hours ago. He was supposed to come here."

Natashas eyes widen, then as fast as it happened -like a lightning bolt- her features turn back to their usual stonily expression. She pushes past Tony and shuts the door. "I'm coming. Let's go."

The walk down the hall, at one point, feeling like their pace is too slow so they start to jog out of the tower, soon they are running, and before they can go out the doors a faint "Wait!" is heard from behind them. Tony glances over his shoulder, sees it's just Clint running to catch up with them, then turns his attention to the doors again.

All three of them make their way out the tower, simultaneously heading towards the getaway car that lies in the parking lot (a safety measure in case the garage is potentially unreachable or in need of a quick escape), since only one out of the three have a robotic suit with blasters (among other considerations, comme the aerodynamic suit styles and proportionally weighted balance) that can make themselves fly.

Tony hops into the front seat, revving up the engine as Natasha slides into the passenger seat, and relying on the door slam that Clint is in behind him.

They speed off, towards Wueens. No one spoke unless it was formulating a plan, or theorizing excuses on why Peter hadn't shown up- other than the giant lead they have, which is Peter was brought to his apartment by his 90% confirmed abusive aunt.

the drive takes about 10 minutes legally, 7 minutes in Stark time. By the time they pulled up on the curb of the apartment ("20 Ingram street, boss." "Thanks FRI, did Vision tell you that?" "No." "Okay."), it has felt like hours, and Tony was sure he was too late- to save Peter, to a Party, he wasn't sure; just the sense he was late for something, something that is important, is bugging him relentlessly.

Entering the apartment got some weird looks.

They passed a man with a laundry basket in his hands, and as they brushed by him with eyes burning the ferocity of a 9 year old boy who's mom just cut off the internet, his mouth dropped at the same time the basket did.

FRIDAY was in Tony's ear the whole time. "Peter's room number is 420, on the 15th floor."

Tony didn't need to be told twice. They took the stairs because it'll take less time. Natasha filled in Clint on the way, who was angry, but not surprised. He proceeded to point out all the red flags he noticed, up until they got to floor 15.

Keeping quiet, the three Avengers approached door 420. It was dark green, and the room number was in metal.

Natasha knocked.

One second, three seconds, ten seconds.

She knocked again.

When still no one answered, Clint looked at her. He made a motion for an explosion, and one for tying, asking if they should go in with a bang or pick the lock. Natasha pulled out a lock pick.

There was a certain sequence to picking a lock, and you had to press up and be able to kind of feel, and hear the pins go. It's why Natasha is the best at this, she has the best ears, and more experience. It also requires steady hands, which she had all the time.

She twisted slowly, and you could hear the soft click, which meant it was unlocked.

Rising from her crouch, Tony took the initiative of opening the door. It creaked, and made them all cringe. Tony went in first.

It was just as Tony remembered, blue walls, cramped kitchen, mini closet, except there was shattered glass near the couches, and bits and pices strewed about, on the couch, under a chair. There was some kind of roughousing here, and leaving this place an eery quiet.

Tony could see Natasha and Clint scanning, the gears behind their focused eyes in motion.

He stepped into the apartment. "Mrs. Parker?" He called tentatively.

Clint took to the living room, Natasha the kitchen.

"Mrs. Parker, it's Tony Stark."

Calling for Peter would give a direct answer for their presence, even though he was who they came for in the first place.

Natasha crept into the hall, and into Peter's room, Clint moving towards the side, peering into a bathroom.

Before Tony could take a step, he heard Clint swear, and call for him. He went running to join him in the bathroom, Natasha right behind, and moved around Clint's pointing finger to look at the tub, and on the edge of it there is a knife stained with blood with a rag that is also red.

Not to mention, the smell.

"Fuck," Natasha says, "Keep looking. If he isn't here, we call the police."

Tony stays in the bathroom, inspecting everything as Clint and Natasha branch out.

Five minutes later, he hears Clint shriek. "Fucking Jesus- NAT!! TONY COME!!!" And it rips Tony out of his skin while he stumbles out of Mrs. Parkers closet.

Nat hurdles over the couch, and Clint moves towards the open mini closet that Tony spotted earlier. Tony sees what he's freaking out over, and he lets himself have strictly one moment of panic, then is at Natashas side, aiding Clint in untying the robes that are tied around Peters raw wrists, and pulling him out.