It's a Spider Thing. {Peter Parker and Natasha Romanoff}

{33} pyrokinesis

THE ROOM THAT PETER HAD BEEN INEVITABLY ESCORTED TO when his body had succumbed to its exhaustion was plain and void of anything but a slab of metal in the centre.

At first, he had tried to keep track of the time- but then the pain came and any semblance of coherent thinking scattered. Then the panic settled over his senses, dulling the incessant buzzing of the light above his head and heightening the bouts of pain that shot through his body like clockwork. It was the only thing Peter was sure of, the cycle of the experiment, that left him writhing against the straps that dug into his skin and left behind red burning lines.

Peter writhed in pain while broken breaths barely made it out of his lungs.

Sweat gleamed on every part of his body as it jolted uncontrollably. Peter's hair was plastered against his forehead while disgusting sobs tumbled from his lips, the tears mixing with the snot that was running from his nose and the blood from his mouth where he'd bitten his lip to shreds.

An ear shattering scream tore from his lips, but he didn't realise it was his own till much later.

"His internal temperature is too high-"

"- containment unit."

"Move him. Now."

"We're almost there, just one more-"

Voices overlapped above his head- Peter couldn't identify any of them because of the buzzing in his own ears. It was like static. Tuning everything out but his own screams. His own agony.

Distantly, he was aware that he was moving. He could feel the wheels beneath him vibrate slightly as he was rushed into another room while people yelled over his head. Lights blurred together as he passed under them, face contorted into an expression of torment- it felt as though red-hot pokers were being rolled over his skin relentlessly. His heart thundered at a dangerous pace.

A door clanged, making Peter wince as the noise somehow broke through his veil of numbness.

"Please!" He cried out. His resolve to stay quiet was a distant thought in his mind when another wave of pain rolled over him; Peter almost bit off his own tongue when he gritted his teeth together.

It wasn't like this before. Maybe it was a punishment for his escape- Peter wouldn't put it past Hydra to crank the torture up to a hundred- but it felt different. There were more people, scientists who cared about vitals and results; why were there scientists? "Please!" He screeched, jerking against the restraints. The metal slab he had been confined to felt as though it was warming up, searing itself against his skin as he thrashed uselessly about- he pulled more at the restraint, anything to escape the heat, but the movement lost its power as a wave of defeat washed over the teen.

"Please! 'Tasha! Mr St-Stark...?" The words were barely past his lips in a single breath before he screamed again. It rang through the facility, tainted by despair as a round of sobs ripped through him.

An observation window peered into the small room that Peter had been wheeled into.

Helen stood in front of it, leaning against the small ledge and seemingly undisturbed by the tears rushing down the boy's cheeks or the way Peter's head lolled from side to side, breathy please for Natasha tumbling past his chapped lips before being drowned out by his own cries.

Nothing could dissuade her morbid curiosity.

Behind her, heat signatures were being called out over head as they steadily increased with every passing second. They were far higher than any normal being could ever handle; by all accounts, Peter should have been a blackened corpse on that metal slab. Nothing but a charred skeleton, yet if Peter's shouts of anguish were anything to go by, he was still very much alive.

The heat also seemed to be emanating in waves from Peter's body- seeping out of his skin and into the rest of the room. He was burning from the inside out.

"How are you surviving?" Helen wondered aloud, tilting her head before glancing back at the female scientist in the reflection of the glass. She stood a few feet behind and wore a horrified expression as she clasped a clipboard to her chest in alarm.

"He's smoking!" She shrieked.

Instantly, Helen's attention snapped back to Peter. Wisps of smoke curled into the air.

In awe of what was happening, the woman pressed her hand against the glass before snatching it back again and taking a cautionary step backwards. Her chest heaving as she grasped at her hand.

"The glass... its heating up."

"He's burning from the inside out." Informed a scientist in the background, the cautious tone of their voice not enough to drown out their curiosity- Helen continued to stare at Peter's prone body, eyes wide as she clutched her injured hand to her chest. "If there isn't a release, he'll burn alive-"

At that moment the glass exploded, sending shards flying into the room.

Moving on instinct, Helen's arms shot up to protect her face as the people behind her yelled out in shock. Shaking off the stray pieces from her hair and suit, Helen looked back into the room only to see flames racing towards her- she let out a short cry before her body dropped down, landing in a pile of glass that cut her hands and knees. "Shit."

Somewhere in the building a siren was going off, but it quickly faded into the background. Helen looked around herself.

There was a woman to her left sobbing grossly on the floor, her hands grasping her face; Helen caught a glimpse of the burn peeking out between her fingertips while another woman was trying to pry them off so she could assess the damage. Tearing her eyes away from the duo, Helen noticed people running out of the room and calling for emergency services, but her attention was swiftly captured by a man leaning against the wall, panting as he applied pressure to a wound on his leg- a fragment of glass that was smeared with blood was discarded beside him.

Gritting her teeth, Helen ignored the people around her and hauled herself to her feet.

Glass crunched beneath her feet as she turned around, expecting to see a burnt body still strapped to the metal slab- instead she was met with Peter breathing shallowly. Soot and sweat caked his skin.

The restraints had been burned, but he was too exhausted to attempt an escape.

Around the edge of the room, flames still danced around. The floor and walls were covered in scorch marks that were angled away from Peter's body- one of the only signs of the flames having physically touched him was the burn stretching from his neck down to his left arm.

The blistered skin stood out against the pale pallor of skin.

"Shh." She whispered, cautiously stepping into the room as Peter began to whimper. A fresh round of tears spilled free onto his cheeks. "Hush now. That was a remarkable show of power- pyrokinesis." She muttered in awe of the boy, "It worked. You are strong Peter, stronger than you know." He flinched away as she stepped up to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He hissed at the sensation, but she merely tightened her grip. "I wonder what other gifts we can give you."

When she looked down at him, there was a glint in her eyes. 

A/N

Peter is literally smoking- sorry I couldn't resist :)

Anywho! Let me know of any spelling mistakes! xoxo.