The Raft Prison Isn't a Good Home

This is life now?

There was no familiarity in this situation, nobody he had known for more than a few days.

Nothing he could take comfort in, except for memories.

Even the hope of rescue was beginning to fade from his mind.

Sam, Clint, and Wanda? They were actual Avengers, people who knew what they were doing. Even they hadn't been able to get themselves out.

He was just a fourteen-year-old kid, with one battle under his belt. Other than the airport fight, the most intense thing he'd ever had to do was stop a mugging.

That was it.

If the Avengers couldn't get out of this, then how could he? Ross was a part of the federal government, a high up general with respect to his name. If he could convince everyone that Peter was dangerous, there'd be nothing even Tony Stark could do about it.

He'd stay in here for the rest of his life, rotting away in a jail cell. It wasn't something he had ever expected himself to be doing. Being held in prison.

As a criminal.

He just wanted to go home, to see May, to see his friend. Hell, he even missed school. Getting taunted by Flash sounded worlds better than this.

It was much less painful than getting shocked halfway to hell with an electric collar.

"Hey kid, I think you're okay to sleep now. It's been a couple hours, get some rest." Clint's voice was soft, eyes kind.

Peter leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes against the pain. There was nothing else to do but sleep, after all.

A few minutes later, he was still awake. The older Avengers were talking again, conversation hushed. The lights had dimmed, signaling night.

"I still can't believe they'd put kids in prison." Scott said bitterly. "I don't care if they have powers, it's not right."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, but that's Ross's thing. The guy hates anyone with powers, thinks they're dangerous, inhuman. It's insanity is what it is."

"Ain't that the truth." Clint said gruffly, sitting on the cot in his cell. "For god's sake, Wanda's only a few years older than Peter. They're too young for this bullshit."

Scott sighed. "I hate being stuck here. They could at least let us help them. Give them whatever medical attention we can."

Sam's response was filled with barely concealed anger. "That'd be beside the point for them. They don't want those kids to survive."

Peter felt a tear slip from his eye, trailing down his face.

He was right.

They weren't going to show mercy to him.

Once they figured out that they wouldn't be of use locked in prison, they'd kill him and Wanda.

He could only hope they'd let him say goodbye first.

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The next day, Peter woke to the nerves along his neck tingling like a small current of electricity had run through him. His breath quickened. Had they shocked him already? Were they about to? The collar hadn't made any noise, had it?

"Peter? Are you okay, kid?"

Peter took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Yeah. I'm awake."

What the hell was going on?

It almost felt like-

His senses. Oh.

That's what was happening. His powers were going off, trying to tell him something. But what? If the collar wasn't about to go off, what was happening?