Begging

Chapter 4 - Poetic?

He stood up suddenly, and left the cell, letting the door close with a loud "BANG!"

A couple minutes passed, when suddenly the door swung open again, only to reveal the two men who had helped torture me last week.

Instinctively, I backed up against the wall, earning a few creaks from the bed, but as soon as I had no further to go, I just stared at the men's feet, breathing deeply.

"Stand up." one of the men spoke harshly. His voice was deep, and reminded me of what I thought a cyclops might sound like. Huh.

I reluctantly obeyed, and did nothing as the men handcuffed my hands behind my back. I half expected them to put a bag over my head, but they didn't, which I was grateful for.

They lead me through a seemingly endless number of halls, adding up to far too many to keep track of. I guess that's why they didn't blindfold me. 

Eventually, I was lead into a dark room, with what looked like a large assortment of knives on the wall. My mind immediately filled with fear, though my heart remained cold and empty like the eye of a storm. Everything around it is absolute chaos and destruction, though the small area in which there is peace allows a short break, a false sense of security that will only trick you into letting down your guard, so that when the eye passes, the storm hits you even harder.

"When did I become so poetic?" I thought to myself.

"Shall we begin?"

Tony's POV

I sat in bed, my blankets becoming ruffled and messy from me shifting so often. I just sat on the edge, thinking to myself of why I hadn't been able to find Peter yet. I knew the answer was obvious. So obvious that we had all looked right over it.

Like when you're reading, and you skip over a long paragraph that looks boring, even though it might hold all the answers you've been looking for, yet you read through the even longer paragraphs filled with tricky, action packed things that satisfy you for only a moment, because you soon realize there is nothing to make you care. 

The only difference, however, was that I had no control. 

None at all.

I just had to keep looking, and looking, and looking until I found the answers in the same thing I had looked over for the past week.

I didn't even know if there were answers.

As soon as that thought popped into my mind, I knew I was wrong.

Of course there was an answer. There had to be. 

Someone had gone through all that trouble just to make sure I couldn't find out where Peter was by tracking the video we were sent, but left us with a coded message to supposedly help us find him. 

They also wanted something.

Of course they would have an answer for me to find. They knew I would find it eventually... They just wanted to toy with me. Make me see my kid in pain.

When did he become my kid?

I asked myself. 

I knew the answer to that too. From the moment I met him, something about him just hooked me immediately. He's like a good book. You can never get enough. It doesn't take long for you to care, and you need more. 

It didn't matter how much Clint teased me about how much of a dad I was becoming. It didn't matter how much my company suffered. 

It didn't matter if I had to die to save this kid. My kid.