**Heh, do you guys hate Fury enough yet? I'm not so sure... If you didn't hate him before, you will now, and Natasha gets her revenge. Or rather, Clint does for her. This is a pretty long chapter, and the ending is scalding hot tea, so enjoy!!**
Peter trusted Ned with his whole being. He trusted him with his life. And Ned, the perfect friend that he was, the trustworthy secret-keeper, was a very good listener. Peter wasn't one to spill his life story or talk openly about his trauma, but he knew he could with Ned. It was easy, actually, to talk when there was no fear of judgement.
"And then Natasha came out into the living room." Peter was retelling the whole story, his eyes turned to the carpet he was scrubbing at as he talked. He'd long ago dumped the Goblin onto a tarp in Ned's garage, and now was digging blood stains out of the peach rug at the bottom of the stairs. Ned was sitting on said stairs, quietly nodding along and taking in the story. He knew better than to interrupt Peter now that he was opening up. "Fury pretty much confirmed it," Peter continued. "And then I just left, like... I spent my entire life knowing who I was. Knowing that I was May's nephew. And in, like, just a few weeks, I've lost everything. I lost May, I lost myself, I-"
Peter threw down the brush he was using and wiped a tear off his cheek with the back of his arm.
"It makes sense," he sighed. "It makes sense now that Fury knew I had powers. That he put me in Natasha's old job. That he... I just wish I'd known. I'm not who I thought I was."
Ned was quiet, waiting for his friend to say more. Peter just sat back on his heels, rust colored hands folded in his lap.
"Do you still think Star Wars is the best movie series in the entire world?" Ned asked, peering at his friend with an unreadable expression.
Peter looked up. "Yeah, of course."
"Do you still think Snape is a horrible human being?"
"The worst."
"And you still like hot dogs without anything on them, root beer with lemonade in it, and popcorn with that butter powder stuff?"
Peter nodded.
"Then as far as I'm concerned, you're still very much Peter Parker, my best friend." Ned nodded definitely, as if this was the only thing that ever mattered.
Peter opened his mouth, but Ned cut him off.
"Stop. Blood or not, you were May's nephew. Spider powered vigilante or SHIELD agent, you desperately want to help people, all people. None of that changed! None of that is any different now!"
"But I was tricked, Fury knew-"
"Who cares?" Ned cut him off. "Peter, who cares? Like, really, who the hell even cares? You were 10! You were a kid! You were a kid, all that shit that Fury did and made you do and trained you for? That's on him. That's on his conscious. As far as I'm concerned, you're one of the nicest, most genuine, kind person I know. You're smart and considerate, and you're a bad ass! You just saved me from a gun wielding mutant without breaking a sweat after you jumped in a river!"
Peter huffed, the hint of a laugh in his breath.
"You gotta stop letting other people tell your story," Ned said, standing up and holding out a hand to his friend. "You're Peter Parker, kid genius, superhero, and one hell of a best friend, regardless of who your parents are, who you once worked for, and who raised you."
Peter took Ned's hand and let himself be yanked up.
"Besides," Ned said heading up the stairs in front of Peter. "It'd be fucking awesome to start going by Peter Romanoff."
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The Tower's basement ran deep, accommodating dark labs for radioactive experiments, the massive reactor that kept the Tower powered, and old storage that was tossed down into hidden away rooms and forgotten. It was the perfect place, then, for the little room Tony had had remodeled when the Avengers first made the Tower their home.
Cold concrete and steel, grey on grey, made up the entirety of the room. A chair, also solid metal, was bolted into the ground in the center, a single light set into the ceiling itself right above it. Chains, one on each side, were embedded into the concrete ground.
Nick Fury, in all of his big coat, eye-patch, stupid looking Neo-getup, was seated in the chair, his hands secured in the chains and held at his sides. His head lolled forward, barely moving as he slowly regained consciousness.
Steve watched from the door, his face cold and stony. Tony had only briefly told him about what happened before he was out the door and in his lab, asking FRIDAY for any information on Peter's whereabouts and condition.
Natasha wasn't much more help. She had been a bit of a mess, Clint barely getting her to breath evenly before taking her to her room.
"Finally up?" the super soldier called. Fury stirred more, pulling his head up and glaring at the man through heavily lidded eyes.
"You hit me."
"You seemed to be putting my friend through hell."
The man in the chair pulled his hands up to his lap in vain, the chains making a hard clink as they were pulled tight. "You're restraining me?"
"All threats to the team are restrained until a thorough interrogation has been carried out."
Steve looked down at his watch. It'd been hours now. As far as he knew, Natasha was still sleeping, Tony was still working, and Peter was still off Gods know where.
"I can feel the disappointment from here," Fury said, his eyes boring into Steve's face, which was still down-turned. "Mr. America doesn't like me anymore."
Steve snorted, unable to control himself. "I was never really a big fan to begin with."
"So why are you so grumpy now?"
The super soldier was silent. He didn't like talking to threats without backup.
"Not talking? That's okay. You don't have to talk, you just have to listen." Fury shifted, his hands pulling at the cold metal. "I make heroes. It's what I do. You could even say it's my super-power." The man chuckled to himself, the laugh rumbling through his throat.
"I made you. Stark. Hell, even Bucky. You're all because of me. Because I got you off. Because I mediated government deals. Even Natalia, little Natalia. You know, I met her so young. So cold. She was easy to make an agent out of, she came pre-programmed."
Steve bit his lip, refusing to give this man what he wanted. A reaction.
"And Peter. Little Peter. Have you gotten to know him yet, Captain? He really is a sweet kid, so bouncy and light. I had to knock some of that out of him when we first started training him, he could barely hold aim. He was so weak, it blasted him back the first time he ever shot a gun. Did you know he loves Star Wars? That's how I used to get him to train when he was a kid. I told him it was just like Jedi training. He was just like Luke Skywalker."
Steve pushed the image of Peter, small and scrawny, brown curls hanging over doe eyes, out of his head. He couldn't let himself lose control now.
"Steve." The man looked up at the sound of Tony's voice. "I got a track on Peter's phone, he was with Ned. I sent Bucky to get him."
The super hero smiled and nodded. Bucky was good at handling these things, and he and Peter had a good relationship. "Where's Natasha and Clint?"
"Right here." Tony and Steve turned. Natasha was on the stairs, Clint right behind her. "Is he up?"
Steve nodded.
"Good."
The team made their way into the room, the door banging shut behind them. Fury looked around, his cool demeanor holding steady despite the fact that he was surrounded by the Earth's greatest heroes.
"We'll start simple. Did you know about Peter before he was born?"
Fury chuckled. "I was the one who helped connect the Russians and the biochemist here in the States. He was wanted on an account of 1st degree murder and 3 cases of illegal medical treatment."
"Why?" Natasha asked.
"It was part of the deal. I helped with getting a scientist, and if the child was a boy, he'd be up for sale. I got to be part of the buying pool."
Natasha held back a cringe, but Fury still noticed the shadow of it.
"Why did you want him?"
"Insurance," Fury said simply. "I was going to see how my own agents were shaping up. See if I ever needed him. When you came here, I thought I could just use you. I mean, spider powers are one things, but you're Natalia Romanova, the famed assassin. You were supposed to be the perfect agent.
"And then you left." Fury shrugged as best he could with his hands restrained. "If you hadn't left, I would have let Peter live the rest of his life with May. Go to school. Date pretty girls. I took him to replace you."
Clint side-eyed his friend. "Do you know who Peter's father is? Who he really is?"
"A HYDRA agent. He was paid with freedom. 'Make her love you', they said. 'Do what must be done.' When it was all over, when it was sure that Peter was going to be born with powers, Alek was allowed to leave."
"Did you track him?" Tony asked.
Fury smiled. "He didn't want to leave HYDRA in the end. He's a director now, last time I checked."
The team shifted uneasily. They knew HYDRA was cruel, and knowing that Peter was tied to them...
"Did you all find him?"
Tony furrowed his brow. "Find who?"
"The boy," Fury said. "Peter. Did you find him? I may have let it slip that he was no longer in May's care, and that he wanted nothing to do with me. I may have let slip that he was up for grabs."
"What does that mean?" Tony said, stepping forward.
"Tick tock," Fury taunted. "You better find him before HYDRA or the doctor does. They won't be as nice as I was."
Tony tore his body away and raced out of the room, his whole body urging himself to go faster. He had to call Bucky. He had to make sure Peter was okay. He had to... He had to...
Clint stepped forward, his eyes burning. He held a gun at his side, one of the few things he had fro his time as a SHIELD agent.
"You put him up as some game to be hunted?"
Fury stayed silent, so Clint pressed the gun up to the man's head.
"You won't kill me," the director said.
"Try me." Clint spat, his face inches from the man. Steve stepped forward to pull Clint back, but Natasha stopped him. She wanted this. She wanted...
"You never cared about him?" Clint whispered. "You never cared about the little girl you were destroying?"
Fury's dark eye met Clint's blue one. "It's impossible to care for someone so pathetic."
The silencer on the gun muffled the noise, but a splatter of blood made contact with the wall, making Steve and Natasha wince. It was over, or rather, Fury's part was over. He couldn't hurt Natasha or Peter any more.
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The two teens were sitting together in Ned's room, still debating on what to do now there was a body in the garage.
"We could call Tony," Ned suggested. Peter scoffed.
"I'm pretty sure he's either dealing with Fury, or Fury is dealing with him."
The teen shuddered at the thought. He remembered one time, when he was 13, talking back to the director. The way Fury had raised his hand, the way Peter had flinched backwards from a slap that never came. How instead, Fury had taken him downstairs, to the cells. How Fury had shot a man dead without blinking, then handed Peter the gun and told him to shoot the man in the exact same place. "I want this body to have 1 hole in it when the medics come."
Peter had tried so hard. It was an impossible task, though, and the teen had been required to stand there and shoot, shoot, shoot, until it was long past curfew and Fury had to let him go home.
"He's not a nice man." Peter said, his eyes significantly dimmer with the memory still fresh in his mind. "Fury, I mean. He never really did anything, like, physically. He never hit me, but sometimes he'd get close to it. He always opted for a psychological punishment instead, though."
Ned didn't know what to say.
"We could-"
Peter's phone buzzed, startling the two. It was Bucky, a blurry photo of him lifting weights flashed over the screen. Peter had grabbed that one day during training, much to the man's dismay. He was making the most ridiculous face.
"Hey, Bucky."
"Hey, squirt. I'm outside, can you-"
There was a noise, like that of a heavy thud, and Peter furrowed his eyebrows.
"Buck?"
"Oh, Peter?" A new voice came over the line. It was husky, with a heavy accent. Peter instinctively tensed. He was so tired, so tired he just wanted... He hated fighting bad guys.
"Who is this?"
"Heh... How about you come out here and see for yourself?"
"I was always told to not meet strange men in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, I'll pass." Peter rolled his eyes.
"You'll come outside, alone, without any weapons, or I'll blow Sargent Barnes' brains all over the pavement."
Peter got up, his eyes never leaving Ned's face. The poo boy looked terrified, but Peter flashed him a reassuring smile and nodded his head.
"I'm on my way out."