Hi I am making 2 different posts with 2 different endings for this cause idk which to chose so yeah. This ending is happier. The next is not really😁.
Anyways hi I'm alive!
Kay bye!
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Peter cursed himself for not just staying at the tower. Tony had even said that Peter didn’t need to handle the threat, that it was small and the police were already subduing it. But nooooooo, Peter just had to help the police.
Not that he regretted it. When he got to the square the threat was in, he couldn’t tell what the threat was, only that it was flying and seemed like a human. He also found that the police most certainly did not have it under control. They were actually cowering in their cars, and Peter swore that he saw at least half of the force sigh in relief when they saw SpiderMan swing into sight. Peter swung up to one of the cars, knocking on the window. The officer in the car put the window down.
“What’s happening?”
“Um, well as far as we can tell, it's a guy who calls himself um, The Vulture, I believe?”
Peter felt his blood run cold, and he was sure that he paled. Still, he nodded and thanked the officer before swinging towards the flying man.
To tell the truth, Peter was terrified. He had fought The Vulture before, and had survived, but he definitely didn't come away unscathed. He had been in so much pain for weeks afterwards, and even with his enhanced healing, the bruises stayed for what seemed like forever. Makeup had become his best friend in that period of time.
But Peter wasn’t going to just let Adrian get away with whatever he was doing this time.
“Ah. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Peter felt a chill go down his spine when he talked. The voice was like a trigger on a gun, and Peter just couldn’t help but think, I wasn’t aiming for you. But Peter shook the thought off and stared down Toomes.
“Have you now?”
“Hmm, yes. You know, I tried to visit my daughter. Just now, actually. She called the cops on me. Told me I was supposed to be in jail.”
“You are supposed to be in jail.”
Toomes scoffed.
“Beside the point. My daughter was scared of me. And that is your fault. She never would be scared if she didn’t know what I did, which she only knows now because of you.””
“If you hadn’t done it in the first place, I wouldn’t have had anything to stop you from.”
Toomes nodded.
“Good point, but still. So, I wondered, how do I get back at you? Then I figured that probably just seeing me would be enough. I mean, I won’t stoop so low as to hurt your friends, as they were Liz’s friends too. I couldn’t hurt your aunt, as she is already dead. My condolences, by the way. And so I settled with just fighting you again. And winning this time.”
Peter swallowed. He was indeed living with Tony now due to his Aunt's death. She had been fighting her own battle while he had been fighting The Vulture, and she had lost, the cancer claiming her life.
But Peter barely had time to think about it as he ducked to miss a blow aimed at his head. Another blow flew towards him, and Peter caught it this time, twisting the leg kicked at him. Toomes twisted and used the force of Peter's action to twist his body and kick with the other leg.
This head hit home.
Peter reeled back, trying to get his head to stop shaking. It felt like his brain was the windows screen saver, bouncing around in his skull. The next thing he knew, he was being picked up by the cloth at his neck, his mask being ripped off as he was drug through the air by Toomes, who was flying with a fixed machine. Peter fought against the hand that was holding the cloth, pulling it tighter and choking him. He struggled, and Toomes laughed, holding the cloth tighter, choking Peter more. Peter felt his limbs go limp and fuzzy, and it was hard to keep fighting when they were so heavy.
Adrian laughed again and stopped in the air. Peter could fainty make out lights in the corner of his eye between the black spots that took over his vision.
“Oh, Pedro. I would give the mask back, but I want to see your pain.”
Peter felt a rush of panic as he wondered what Toomes ment. He didn’t have time to think about it before he was being thrown into a building, his back crashing through glass which ripped into his skin before hitting a wall of concrete, and he could have sworn that he felt his back crack before he fell to the floor.
He laid there for a moment in shock before he heard his name called loudly, like it had been called for a while already. He opened his eyes slowly and looked up into Tony’s face.
Tony’s face was twisted with concern, his eyes scanning every inch of Peter, logging all the injuries.
“Peter? Peter are you okay?”
“Mhm,” was all Peter could get out in the pain.
It was then that Peter noticed a boy standing behind Tony, looking just as panicked.
And shocked. Harley had loved SpiderMan the instant that the hero came around, and had supported every move he took. But now, looking at SpiderMan, Harley was shocked. It was just a boy. A boy who looked so tired and worn and not really observant of his surroundings. Though in truth, that could be because of the blood leaking from Spider Man's head. Or the blood pooling from his back. Spiderman, or Peter, he had heard the man say, put his hands under his chest and tried to push himself up. Tony pushed him back down, telling him to stay down.
Peter was in so much pain that he didn’t argue.
“Peter, what happened? I thought it was just the small threat and then home?”
“‘M still working on the small threat, M’Stark,” he slurred, before trying to sit up again.
“No, stay down Underoos. Where’s the threat now?”
“I’m right here.”
Tony and Harley turned to the window, where a man stood. No, not stood. Floated. The man had a pack on his back with wings, and it was somehow keeping him up.
“Holy fuck,” Tony said under his breath. Peter had eventually broken and told Tony everything about Toomes between sobs and panic attacks. To say that Tony was pissed that the man had hurt Peter again was an understatement. Tony was absolutely livid, but barely had time to yell at Toomes before he and Harley were being pushed out of the way as something exploded. Tony had been so caught up in his anger that he hadn’t seen Tommes pull out a small grenade.
Now he and Harley were on the floor, Peter laying on top of them as he looked around the room, trying to see past the smoke.
Out of nowhere, Tommes came through the flames and grabbed Peter, pulling the boy off Tony and Harley before pinning him to a wall. Peter felt each punch land like he was being hit with a hammer again and again, his head spinning from blood loss and his lungs heaving from the smoke.
Damn, now is not the time to have asthma, Peter thought to himself, cursing his body as he felt his lungs get heavier and his oxygen coming in shorter and shorter bursts. Suddenly, Toomes was letting go and spinning, a hand to the back of his head where Harley had hit him with a wrench.
Peter fell to the floor, Tony at his side in a flash, helping him into a sitting position. Peter coughed and took deep, hesitant breaths. Peter raised his head and saw through the spots clouding his eyes that Toomes was advancing towards a figure. Harley.
Peter leapt to his feet, ignoring the pain and dizziness as he ran to Toomes. He collided with Toomes, knocking him over and giving Harley time to run towards Tony, who led him to a corner.
Toomes recovered fast, spinning and hitting Peter so hard he was on his back on the floor yet again, gasping for breath that didn’t seem to want to come. He could faintly hear his name being called. Peter stumbled to his feet again, facing a laughing Toomes.
“You see, Pedro, I figured that I could wear you out. I know you’d try your best to protect Stark and Keener. You’d protect them until you couldn’t. Just give up. You can’t fight anymore.”
Peter took a deep, shaky breath. He shook his head, and his eye caught on his workstation. An idea came to him. Just time. I just need time.
But time was running out. He could tell. He felt more weak every second that passed, could feel blood still trailing down his face. The smoke was still impairing his breathing, and Peter could swear he was swaying where he stood.
But he pushed it aside.
Toomes lept to Peter, who spun and grabbed a small device off his desk, spinning and sticking it to the machine on Toomes’ back.
Toomes barely had time to laugh at what he thought was a pointless use of energy before the pack on his back exploded and he flew across the room, right into a mess of webbing that Peter had been trying to dissolve earlier (he was testing a new web formula, and apparently it didn’t dissolve, much to the dismay of Stark who just wanted his tools).
Peter stared for a second before falling, twisting and ended up laying on his back once again. God, Peter was so tired of laying on his back. He was tired in general. He vaguely felt a hand at his shoulder and a voice asking him to open his eyes. He obliged, opening his eyes halfway. His chest was so heavy, like it was being crushed under the cement warehouse again. But he didn’t have the energy to panic about his breathing. Tony was above him, begging him to keep his eyes open.
“God, Peter. Keep your eyes open. Harley went to get Bruce, or Cho, whoever is closest. Stay awake, okay?”
Peter couldn’t answer. His chest was tightening, and it felt like too much work to breathe out, much less breathe in. He felt his chest rise slower and shallower, and could practically feel Tony's panic filling the room. He heard, through his muffled ears, Tony telling him to just breathe, and stay awake, and breathe. Peter lost track of time as he laid there. He tried to keep his eyes open as Bruce ran into the room with Harley, dragging a machine on wheels behind him. He managed to keep his eyes open as Bruce put a mask over his face and Tony picked him up. He saw Bruce run ahead to get an operating room ready, saw concerned looks from Tony and Harley, before darkness claimed him.
Peter woke to a beeping. He decided quickly that it was annoying. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking rapidly at the harsh light.
“Peter?”
“Hm.”
“Oh Peter. You are grounded. You are grounded, and you are grounded from, i don’t actually know yet, but you are grounded. Never do that again.”
Peter let out a small chuckle at Tony’s ramble. He turned his head and looked at the man, who was sitting in one of the two chairs in the room. In the other chair was Harley.
Harley was observing the boy in the white bed. He was younger than he had looked before, though that was probably because he wasn’t covered in blood and soot anymore. In fact, the boy looked cute. Or at least, Harley thought he looked cute.
“Hi. I’m Peter. I’m assuming you would be Harley? Tony told me you were coming up.”
“Yeah. yeah, I’m Harley. Yeah, the old man invited me up for a while.”
“Yeah, well the old man is about to kick you out if you call him that one more time,” said Tony.
Harley snorted. “You wouldn’t.”
Tony shook his head, smiling. Peter smiled too. He felt like he could finally relax. Toomes was in jail, probably with 10x more security than before, he was here with Tony and a cute boy, and he was alive.
Peter leaned into his pillow, smiling as he watched Tony and Harley banter with each other.
Yes, Peter supposed he could relax now. At least for a bit.
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Ending one done!
Hi! Ive been doing math over break and I think that should not be happening but nevertheless, it is.
Kay off to make ending 2!