Becoming Spider-Man // Son of Stark 1

Chapter 15

[Warnings from now: angst, creepy villains, sadness, torture, pain, hallucinations. Read at your own risk.]

The man stood outside of the apartment door, his face twisted in an evil grin. His eyes were wide and beady - a manic laughter seeing out of them. A look that haunted nightmares... a man who caused them for fun. He lifted his fist to the red door:

Knock. Knock.

Bucky stood up, hearing the thuds against the wooden door, and walked over to it. He slid the golden chain off the lock and cautiously opening it. "Hello?" he asked, "Do I know you?"

The man at the door smiled. He was clean shaven, his hair gelled to the right. "May I come in? It's about...," he looked over at the picture of Steve and a small child, "Peter."

Bucky stepped to the side, allowing the man to come into the room. "Come in... Is it serious?" He was worried. Worried for himself, for Steve, for Peter... What if it was to do with the court trials? What if it was to do with Spider-Man? It was probably just to do with school, he reassured himself, trying to regain his composure.

The man shut the door behind him, pulling a gun out from his jacket. "Now Soldier, Longing-"

"What? No. Leave. Go." Bucky stammered, flinching at the word. How could he have been so stupid? The man's Sokovian accent should of given it away - of course, he shouldn't assume... but in his case, he should always assume.

"Rusted, Furnace, Daybreak-" the man continued, smirking as the soldier placed his hands over his ears: his attempts to muffle out the sound failing. The words were tearing at his memories. The warm thoughts and feelings. His love towards Steve.

"Seventeen, Benign, Nine, Homecoming-"

"STOP!" Bucky screamed, lifting up the chess board and throwing it at the man, who dodged effortlessly out of the way. Surely Peter would hear them, by now? The boy was a light sleeper without his added powers, hopefully he'd come before it was too late.

"One... Freight Car. Soldier?"

Bucky's breathing calmed, his shouting seized. His eyes went empty, emotionless. He stood in ready position, looking at the man as if he was the only thing in the room."Ready to comply."

At that moment, Peter's bedroom door opened and, the boy tiptoed out of the room. He was wearing black tracksuit pants, and a Captain america tee, and was rubbing his eyes sheepishly. "Bucky, what was all that shouting? Who are you?" he asked, blinking rapidly.

The man smiled, holding out his hand towards the kid, "I'm a friend of your father... pleasure to meet you Peter."

Peter reluctantly forced his hand into the greeting, regretting it simultaneously. The man - Zemo - had pulled him into a headlock, only just leaving him with enough space to breath. And even then, it wasn't a comfortable position to be in.

"Bucky!" Peter cried, struggling against Zemo's grip, "Why aren't you stopping him?"

"Soldier," Zemo said, ignoring the boy's pleads and cries for help, "Secure the boy, make sure he doesn't escape before we return to the compound."

Bucky nodded his head. "Yes, Sir."

Peter glanced up at Bucky, his eyes wide in terror. Yet, they closed as soon as Zemo shot something into his skin -  a needle, perhaps - and he fell limp to the floor.

* * *

Peter opened his eyes, his consciousness slowly returning to him. His wrists were being held by vibranium cuffs -  which were chained to the concrete ceiling. And, his ankles were fastened in the same way, however instead of being connected to the ceiling, they were attached to the wall.

The only source of light throughout the cell was coming from a thin gap, which was under what Peter presumed to be the door. It was a dim yellow, barely enough to illuminate the claustrophobic room: but it was there. It was a slimmer of hope in all the darkness surrounding him.

There was also a faint, red glow coming from the top corner of the cell - he realised - a camera probably. But apart from that, there was nothing but the black abyss.

"Hello?" he called out, his voice rough and hoarse. He wasn't exactly expecting an answer, he just wanted to see if it still worked.

Then, much to his surprise, the door - which he had assumed was there - creaked open, allowing a man, who was wearing a black suit, to walk in. "Ahh, Peter, so glad to see you're awake."

Peter glared at the man, his fists clenching as much as they could with the handcuffs on them. "Where am I, who are you?" he muttered, his breathing becoming shaky.

"Well, I can't tell you where we are... What would be the point of a secret if we told it to everyone? But, who I am... well, I can answer who we are," the man replied, his voice flooding the entirety of the cell. "We are Hydra."

Peter started to shiver uncontrollably, shaking his head in protest. "No, no, no... No," he mumbled. His Pops had told him all about Hydra: how they had experimented on people, how they wanted world control, how they had somehow brought his best friend - boyfriend, he corrected himself - back to life.

"I gather you've heard about us?"

Peter didn't reply. He didn't have to, did he? There were no laws saying that a prisoner had to speak, had to comply. The fourteen year old was also rather hoping it had been rhetorical: the only comeback he had was sure to end up with him serving some sort of punishment.

"And," the man continued, "I'm sure you've already met our most valued asset. He's been away from his home far too long."

Asset? What were they talking about? They mustn't mean, they couldn't mean, did they? As a lightbulb formed in Peter's brain, Bucky Barnes walked in and stood beside the man.

"Bucky?" croaked Peter, who was yet to notice the man's empty eyes, and expressionless face. He got no answer: the man seemed to be in a daydream-like state.

"Soldier, would you care to remove Peter's restraints?" the man asked, directing the order at Bucky.

"Yes, sir."

The brunet walked over to the teen, and swiftly removed the cuffs. Then he held firmly onto Peter's collar, his grip barely allowing the teen to breathe.

"Bucky, you don't have to do this," choked Peter, trying to get hold of his Pop's boyfriend's attention. He fidgeted but his attempts only left his feeling weaker and even tireder.

The man laughed, "You see, Peter, he does indeed have to do this. It's in his programming to follow his master's orders."

"Why do you want me here?" Peter shuddered. Humans can't have programming... can they?

"Finally, a good question. We need another asset. One far more young and impressionable. One like you."

Peter didn't know what to say. His Dad would have been great in a situation like this; his snarky comments always lit up the moment. Oh God, his Dad would be worried sick... if he knew Peter was missing. But he didn't... he wouldn't. All because Pops and Bucky had won the court case.

He might never see him again. And no one would ever no where he was, no one would ever be able to find him.

"Now, Soldier," said the man, eyes smiling at Bucky, "Take our newest recruit to the Dark Room."

The Dark Room? What the hell was the Dark Room? It didn't sound good to Peter but he couldn't escape from Bucky's grip: the metal arm already felt like it was choking his jugular.

"Yes, sir," Bucky repeated. Dragging Peter out of the door and down through a corridor.