An hour later, Peter found the strength to sit up. He leaned back against the wall, feeling dried blood on his face from when he had hit his head on the concrete. The wound was still painful, and Peter wondered if he had a concussion. His eyes were definitely not focusing correctly. He heard Sam and Clint talking, but he couldn't bring himself to pay attention to what they were saying.
"Shit, kid, that doesn't look good."
Peter tilted his head to the side to see Scott looking at him with concern. Sam and Clint stopped their conversation, turning towards him.
"Peter? How's your head?" Clint asked, still tense with anger.
Peter gave a small shrug. Talking seemed too hard right now, and he doubted that he could get a full sentence out anyway.
"He looks really pale, guys." Scott's voice was filled with worry. "How much did they shock him with?"
Clint's jaw clenched with frustration. "I don't know. Too damn much. Same as they do with Wanda."
Peter's eyes widened.
Wanda.
He looked towards her cell to see her, and almost flinched in shock. She had moved. Wanda was now facing her glass window, back propped up against the wall.
She was staring past him, eyes distant, like she wasn't really seeing the prison around her.
"Wanda?" Peter's voice was barely a whisper, but Wanda apparently heard it. She blinked, and her eyes focused, now clear.
Peter only had the energy to stare, but she didn't seem to mind. They held eye contact for a while, focus drifting as Sam, Clint, and Scott kept talking.
He wondered if Tony was trying to get him out, if Ross had even told him the truth about where he was. It had been only three days.
Three hellish days in prison.
And he was already starting to break?
The familiar feeling of shame crept upon him, cold and unforgiving. What would Mr. Stark think of him after this? He wasn't capable of being a hero if he couldn't handle a few days in prison.
"Peter? Are you still with us?"
Clint's voice snapped him away from his thoughts. Peter swallowed, his throat still raw from screaming. "Yeah."
He turned his head away from Wanda, seeing the older man's concerned face.
"Good. You need to stay awake for a while, just until night. Your head doesn't look good, I don't want you falling asleep if you have a concussion."
Peter nodded slightly, wincing when the wound in his head flared with pain. His healing factor must've slowed due to the prison's harsh conditions.
Clint gave a small smile. "It'll be alright kid. I promise."
Unsurprisingly, Peter doubted that. Even if they got out of here, he couldn't see himself being the same he had always been. Maybe they'd shocked him enough to make his powers useless. That was their goal, wasn't it? To make sure that he'd never be able to be a threat again?
Whatever their purpose was, their strategy was working.
Peter hated it. He wanted to be strong, to always come back with a witty retort to show his captors they hadn't done anything to him.
But the truth was, he was terrified. This?
This was the scariest thing he'd ever been through. He had no experience, no training for being thrown into a prison in the middle of the ocean.
There was no familiarity in this situation, nobody he had known for more than a few days.
Nothing he could take comfort in, except for memories.
Even the hope of rescue was beginning to fade from his mind.
Sam, Clint, and Wanda? They were actual Avengers, people who knew what they were doing. Even they hadn't been able to get themselves out.
He was just a fourteen-year-old kid, with one battle under his belt. Other than the airport fight, the most intense thing he'd ever had to do was stop a mugging.
That was it.
If the Avengers couldn't get out of this, then how could he? Ross was a part of the federal government, a high up general with respect to his name. If he could convince everyone that Peter was dangerous, there'd be nothing even Tony Stark could do about it.
He'd stay in here for the rest of his life, rotting away in a jail cell. It wasn't something he had ever expected himself to be doing. Being held in prison.
As a criminal.
He just wanted to go home, to see May, to see his friend. Hell, he even missed school. Getting taunted by Flash sounded worlds better than this.
It was much less painful than getting shocked halfway to hell with an electric collar.
"Hey kid, I think you're okay to sleep now. It's been a couple hours, get some rest." Clint's voice was soft, eyes kind.
Peter leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes against the pain. There was nothing else to do but sleep, after all.
A few minutes later, he was still awake. The older Avengers were talking again, conversation hushed. The lights had dimmed, signaling night.
"I still can't believe they'd put kids in prison." Scott said bitterly. "I don't care if they have powers, it's not right."
Sam scoffed. "Yeah, but that's Ross's thing. The guy hates anyone with powers, thinks they're dangerous, inhuman. It's insanity is what it is."
"Ain't that the truth." Clint said gruffly, sitting on the cot in his cell. "For god's sake, Wanda's only a few years older than Peter. They're too young for this bullshit."
Scott sighed. "I hate being stuck here. They could at least let us help them. Give them whatever medical attention we can."
Sam's response was filled with barely concealed anger. "That'd be beside the point for them. They don't want those kids to survive."
Peter felt a tear slip from his eye, trailing down his face.
He was right.
They weren't going to show mercy to him.
Once they figured out that they wouldn't be of use locked in prison, they'd kill him and Wanda.
He could only hope they'd let him say goodbye first.
____________________________________________________________________________
The next day, Peter woke to the nerves along his neck tingling like a small current of electricity had run through him. His breath quickened. Had they shocked him already? Were they about to? The collar hadn't made any noise, had it?
"Peter? Are you okay, kid?"
Peter took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Yeah. I'm awake."
What the hell was going on?
It almost felt like-
His senses. Oh.
That's what was happening. His powers were going off, trying to tell him something. But what? If the collar wasn't about to go off, what was happening?
He'd always hated the unreliability of his powers. Sometimes, they'd go off for days until whatever event they'd been trying to warn him of occurred. It was irritating at best, and painful at its worst.
Something was going to happen soon, but how soon, Peter couldn't tell.
"How's your head?" Sam asked from his cell.
Peter turned his head to see him, noticing the pain had gone down slightly. He swallowed, mouth dry. "Better."
Sam sighed, standing. "That's good, kid. I wish they'd let me over to check you for a concussion, but that's not going to happen anytime soon. Any dizziness?"
"No. I heal fast."
Sam nodded. "I figured."
Clint stood from the metal cot in his cell, turning to face Peter. "How's Wanda doing?"
Peter tilted his head slightly to the side so Wanda's cell was in view. She hadn't moved from her place yesterday, but was awake, eyes clear and focused. "Are you okay?" He said quietly.
She blinked twice, head nodding in a tiny motion. The dark circles under her eyes were still prominent, but her skin had gained more color since Peter had first seen her, the day he'd arrived at the raft.
It was probably because they hadn't shocked her in a few days. They'd been so focused on Peter that they hadn't been torturing Wanda.
"She's alright." Peter gave Wanda a small smile. She blinked twice at him again, as if to return it.
Clint sighed, running a hand over his face. "That's good." His voice was tired, and Peter didn't blame him. Even if they slept, they felt drained, almost like the harsh lights of the prison were sucking the energy out of them.
There wasn't anything to do except sit around and wait for the small amounts of water and food delivered to them, only enough to keep them alive. Clint, Sam, and Scott got slightly better treatment.
Peter was sure part of it was because they didn't have powers, but also because they were more respected than him and Wanda.
Clint had been working with S.H.I.E.L.D for years, had been an Avenger for as long as the team had been around. Sam had been a highly-regarded soldier before joining the Avengers.
And Scott, well, he wasn't exactly respected by the government, but without his suit, he didn't pose much of a threat in the high-security prison.
Overall, the three older men were seen as more human than him and Wanda. They had a chance of survival, while for now, it didn't look like Peter or Wanda would make it out alive.
They were expendable, compared to the more well-known heroes. Even though Peter had gotten attention over the internet as Spider-Man, if he disappeared, people would just consider it a mystery.
Eventually, he'd be forgotten. He hadn't even been Spider-Man for a year yet.
As for Wanda, she wasn't very well-regarded in the eyes of the public. Many saw her as a terrorist, others saw her as an out-of-control kid.
Now, Peter was more sure than ever that they weren't getting out of the prison.
"Peter, what's wrong?" Scott's concerned voice broke through the thoughts, startling Peter.
He gave a small smile, trying to hide his panic. "Nothing. I'm fine."
Scott gave him a knowing look. "Kid, it's alright to not be okay. We're stuck in this absolute shithole, we're not in a good spot."
Peter nodded. "I know."
Scott sighed. "Okay."
____________________________________________________________________________
The next two days passed uneventfully. The shock collars didn't go off, and the food and water were delivered as per usual. The night went by just as normally, with everyone in a fitful sleep until the mornings.
Peter couldn't say he wasn't thankful for it, but his senses were still going off, letting him know that something, whatever it was, was coming. The feeling got stronger every day, and his dreams were filled with the buzz of electricity and screaming.
The nightmares didn't even make sense anymore. They were just pure chaos.
He didn't want to think about what that meant.
"Everyone awake?" Scott asked, voice rough from sleep.
There were answering murmurs from Clint and Sam, and Peter just made eye contact with Scott. Wanda was also awake, still in the position she'd moved to a few days earlier.
"Cool. Peter, are you okay?"
Peter nodded.
"How about Wanda?"
Wanda blinked twice.
"She's okay."
Scott gave a half-hearted thumbs-up. "Awesome."
There were a few moments of silence before Clint and Sam began to speak, starting another of their discussions. It was a daily routine now. They'd all check in with each other, and then whoever felt like speaking would begin a conversation.
Today, it was about kitchen renovations. Of all things, Peter hadn't expected Clint to care so much about home-improvement, but it was a welcome break from his own thoughts. He didn't know much about the man's own home or family, but Peter suspected that Clint was vague on purpose.
The guards were always listening, anyway.
"I'm thinking about an open-plan kitchen, maybe painting the cabinets a darker color. White probably went out of style years ago, you think?" Clint said, keeping his voice light.
Sam chuckled. "You have white cabinets? Man, we have very different tastes in kitchens. I was never one for the modern look. Too much gray, not enough color."
Clint shrugged. "I was never a huge fan of it either, but it was easy enough to do. Simple, clean. What would you suggest?"
"Depends on the kitchen. If you're going for a rustic look, maybe just some exposed wood, put a stain over it, make it look nice. If you're going for a farmhouse look, lighter colors still work, just not a pure white. Maybe a gray tone."
Peter smiled slightly. The two of them made an effort to bring normality to the prison life, and he could tell it was mostly for him and Wanda. He was thankful for it.
It pulled him out of his own mind, gave him a chance to imagine that things were good again.
That he wasn't in prison anymore.
But like most good things, it didn't last for long.
"I don't know about gray-" Clint's voice was cut off by a blaring alarm, bright white lights of the prison turning to a glaring red, making the room darker.
The flashes created terrifying shadows along the walls, and Peter squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of panic, trying to bring his hands to his ears to block the piercing sound.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" He heard Sam's shout, filled with worry and anger.
Peter felt like screaming. The alarm sent shots of pain through him, and his senses were crackling down his neck like a live wire had replaced his spinal cord.
There was nothing he could do, however. He couldn't move, stuck in the hunched position he'd moved to when the alarm went off.
Peter doubted he could stand without collapsing, anyway. The lack of proper food and his own injuries had made him weak and shaky. His legs wouldn't support him anymore.
The speaker near the camera in his cell had gone unused throughout his entire stay, but it crackled on, a panicked voice coming through it.
"STAY WHERE YOU ARE, I REPEAT, STAY WHERE YOU ARE. THE SITUATION WILL BE RESOLVED SHORTLY."
Clint shouted this time. "IT'S NOT LIKE WE CAN GO ANYWHERE! WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?"
"ALL PRISONERS, STAND DOWN!" The voice was different now, more angry.
"WHAT THE-"
Peter heard Wanda's collar go off before he felt his own.
The pain drowned out everything else, and his world dissolved into agony.