Frenemy of Spider-Man (3/3 Y/N Stark's story)

Part 38

~8th March~

You allowed yourself a deep breath before springing into action. You swiftly grabbed one of your knives with the good arm and stood up, making Mr. Man raise an amused brow.

"There are thirteen of my best soldiers here and they are all guarded with more armor and actual guns, instead of basic knives. Is this really a fight you'd like to fight?" he asked and you shrugged.

"In a small space like this, it is pretty risky to shoot. Especially when you need me alive."

"Harming you is quite alright though." he said and you chuckled.

"Except that I am already quite wounded, wounding me more could make the pain from the brainwashing machine lethal. Are you willing to risk it?" you asked and his jaw clenched.

"No one fires a single shot and I want her alive." he finally ordered.

"Yes, sir." his soldiers said in one mouth and you smirked. Without hesitating, you threw your knife into one of the sitting soldiers' knees and snatched Mr. Man's radio with your now free hand. You put it into an inner pocket in your jacket at the same time as the soldiers not driving stood up to fight you.

Even the guy with a knife sticking out of his knee did his best to stand, actually quite impressing. Unlucky him, you didn't care about that, at least not enough for you to stop from hurting him real bad.

You pulled up another knife in your healthy hand and started slicing at your opponents. One soldier's chest, another one's thigh, and so on. Within minutes, you had brought down seven soldiers and still had three knives.

Two soldiers sat in the pilot's seat, leaving four soldiers standing while Mr. Man watched in annoyance. 

"You can't take us all down, not in your state. Speaking of said state, Agent Martin, lovit-o în stomac (hit her in the stomach)." he ordered and a man stepped forward.

Neither of them seemed to expect you to understand the command, but you did and threw your knife into one of the remaining soldiers so that your hand was free to grab the arm of the soldier about to punch you.

Problem is, you were still outnumbered. So, while your focus was on that Martin guy, a pair of hands grabbed you by your shoulders, one of his fingers touching your burn and you groaned. You kicked Martin in the stomach before throwing yourself backward.

The soldier behind you got pushed into the wall back first as you let go of Martin's hand. You spun around, dodged out of the grip on your shoulders, and punched the woman behind you.

The fact that you had just gotten back from a battle made everything more of a strain than it usually would be, meaning that you were more breathless than normal.

You took a deep breath, before spinning around and kicking Martin in the head. He fell to the side and didn't come up.

Two soldiers still standing, two pilots sitting, Mr. Man watching the fight and here you are, a ready to pass out teenager supposed to deal with them all. Suddenly, you got hit with a wave of hopelessness. How were you supposed to fight all of them when you could barely stand?

"Agent Fittes, leave your post and aid us." Mr. Man ordered, snapping you out of your haze. The pilot in the seat to the right-clicked a few buttons, before standing up and coming over to where the rest of you were standing.

You locked your good arm around the closest soldier, holding him between you and the others.

"Let's get this over with." you said with a quirked brow and humorless smile. If you were going to die today, you were not going to die while in a panic, you were going to die with your head high.

You grabbed another knife and threw it in the shoulder of a soldier and he fell to his knees. You then kicked him in the face, knocking him out.

Suddenly, the man you were holding reached back and grabbed your broken arm with his hand, clenching harshly. Nausea rolled over you and he took the moment to his advantage by grabbing the arm you had around his throat and using it to throw you over him.

You landed back first on the floor, your thigh landing on one of the knocked-out soldiers' feet. All air escaped your lungs as nausea grew stronger and your vision blurred. Before you even had a chance of gathering your bearings, someone kicked you in the stomach, making several stitches on your stomach rip. A choked-up scream left your lips as you forced your eyes to focus, now seeing Mr. Man standing above you with a cruel smile on his lips. He kicked you once more and you groaned, feeling hot liquid come out of your wound.

It looked like he was going to kick you again, but then you heard some zooming sound. It repeated itself twice and soon, the three men standing above you fell to the ground.

You took a moment to push back nausea, before forcing yourself to sit up. Your eyes found darts in the three men, darts you had been shot with yourself in the past.

You looked over at the remaining pilot, who was looking straight forward. He had one hand on the wheel and was holding a blowgun with the other. You waited for him to turn around or show some threatening sign, but he didn't.

"Who are you?" you asked, voice slightly gravely, but he understood you.

"Hullo, I'm Conor, I'll be your pilot for this evening." He said and you frowned. You forced yourself up from the floor, using chairs as support as you made your way over to him.

"Why did you help me?" you asked and he glanced at you for a quick moment. Something about his eyes seemed familiar, but your mind was too hazy to know why.

"Consider this a thank you for not letting my entire family die. I would have helped you earlier, but there were so many and I didn't want to risk losing control of the plane." he said with a shrug.

"You're a Walsh." you said and he nodded.

"Conor, the middle son." he said and you frowned.

"Aren't you a little young to be flying a jet? And wouldn't Mr. Man recognize you?" you asked and he chuckled as if you had told him a funny joke.

"Aren't you a little young for saving the world? Because I'm your age and if you can do that, me flying a jet can't be that weird. As for Mr. Man, no. He wouldn't. To him, I and my family were just tools. The only one he would possibly recognize is dad."

"Does this mean you're willing to turn this jet around?" you asked and he flashed you a smile.

"Already on it, you were distracting the others too much for them to notice." he said and you sighed in relief, easing your way into a seat. Now all you had to do was stay awake long enough for you to get there.

1193 words

Hugh Laurie back as "the man"

- A/N