5 Times Peter Parker Saved an Avenger

Bucky Barnes AKA the Winter Soldier

The first time Peter saw the homicidal guy with one arm, it was right after a fight with some armed robbers in Midtown.

Peter didn't usually venture into Manhattan—the police and Iron Man had a big enough presence on that island that Spider-Man wasn't really needed there. But Iron Man was in London for a conference, and the majority of the Avengers had either gone with him or, in the case of the two spies plus Cap and Falcon, were on some secret mission. Which left New York City practically undefended except for Spider-Man.

And Peter was having the time of his life. Manhattan, although louder and busier, was so much taller than Queens. He could swing from skyscraper to skyscraper, hundreds of feet off the ground. It was exhilarating—now he knew why Mr. Stark loved flying over New York.

Spider-Man had just perched on top of a brownstone in the East Village, still smelling of smoke from the explosion over at the bank that he had managed to put out with a well-placed kick at a fire hydrant, when he heard a low, gravelly voice in an alley below him.

"Gimme all your money," the man growled with a noticeable slur. "Or I'll—I'll shoot you."

Peter crept down the side of the building upside-down, surveying the would-be thief and the seemingly homeless man, bowed over his knees and rocking back and forth slightly. His hair hung in his face and he was wearing old, baggy clothing.

"That's not very nice!" Peter chirped, shooting a web across the alley and jumping down so he was between the guy with the gun and the guy who was clearly not in a good place right now. "Why can't we just be friends? And if you want money, I'm pretty sure you could give that gun to someone and they'd pay you for it!"

The guy snarled and pointed his gun at Peter. "Or you could shoot me with it," Peter said offhandedly, springing forwards as the man fired. The bullet pinged off the pavement as Peter snatched the gun out of the man's hands and kicked him so hard that he slammed into a dumpster lid, which promptly closed on top of him. Peter webbed it shut and kicked the gun to the side.

The homeless man hadn't moved, but he'd stopped rocking back and forth. Peter caught a glint of metal at his left side before he tucked his hands into his sleeves. Peter carefully knelt next to the guy and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, man," He said softly. "You good?"

The guy slowly lifted his head, his hair hanging in his face. His dark eyes glinted before he threw himself at Peter.

"What the—" was all Peter managed before homicidal-homeless-guy slammed him into the pavement with a metal arm. One-Arm had caught his neck, and Peter could feel the metal fingers digging in, bruising and ow.

Air. Where was the air? He needed air.

Peter, his vision going spotty, lashed out blindly with both of his feet. One-Arm's grip loosened as he took in Peter's masked face just as Peter kicked him square in the stomach. He grunted as Peter generated enough force to knock him clear. He clutched at his throat, rolling to his side and coughing weakly. "Really, man?"

"Uh, sorry," The man picked himself up, and Peter caught a good glimpse of the arm. It was eerily similar to—