IronStrange Trash

He warily eyed the blocked number who had taken up a large portion of his message bank. Scrolling to the top of the conversation, he noted with smooth satisfaction that whoever this blocked number was had been sending him exactly minute-long messages every two hours exactly.

His thumb was getting tired by the time he scrolled to the top of the…17 messages? No way he was in the lab that long. But whoever this was had definitely achieved getting his (tired) attention.

After groggily pressing the play button, Tony watched with as the video opened onto two large metal doors, covered in scratches. This in itself wasn’t weird, considering it wasn’t the first time someone had found his phone number on the dark web just to send him a home-made action movie – for whatever reason he didn’t know.

What caught his attention though, was the soft sobbing sound coming from the corner of the room. Because that voice sounded strangely familiar. He couldn’t place it but –

“Mr Stark!”

Tony almost fell off his seat as the camera panned to Peter, huddled in the corner of a room. He slowly clenched his fists and gave his attention back to the video. Because this was a joke. This had to be a joke. A really, really cruel –

“Mr-Mr Stark. P-please. I don’t. I don’t know where I am.”

A chill descended down Tony’s spine, as a soft laugh echoed from outside the camera shot.

“That’s it, little Spider. Beg just like that, you know he’s never coming. Don’t you?”

Peter gulped, and his Adam’s apple bobbed, eyes watering, and the man walked into the camera frame, face concealed by a white ceramic mask.

“The great Tony Stark, powerless, weak. We’ve taken you, Spiderling. And he still hasn’t noticed.”

Peter was meant to be in his room. He was meant to be in his room, at the tower, fixing the suit. He was –

“Mr Stark. If you’re watching this video, it means you’ve finally found time in your busy, busy life to sit on your phone.”

Busy, busy was an understatement.

“Normally, these jobs wouldn’t be too hard, but you and I both know the Spiderling has a lot of experience with these types of situations. He can ‘hold his own’ you might say, no thanks to you of course. So, for a little bit of incentive, let’s play a game.”

The man turned to face Peter, who was slowly standing up; unwinding little by little.

“Here are the rules; little Peter is going to be here for as long as it takes you to find him. There is no ransom, no clues, no secrets and no calling any of your special friends. You’re a busy man, we both know that, so for every few hours that your Spiderling is here, we’re going to make him a little bit more uncomfortable. Right now, we’re feeding him and giving him water. How long do you think it will take for that to run out? What do you think Spiderling?”

The man got closer to Peter and Tony watched with sick satisfaction as Peter jerked up and attempted to fight the man, only to be restrained by three of his men.

“As I said. Such a fighter.”

The video cut to black and saw red.

“FRIDAY, analytics. Now.’

“I already have Boss, they’ve encrypted all the videos, and the IP address is cut in a way I’ve never seen before. I can try to trace it, but it may take a while.” Her smooth voice ran over the speakers, and it made his head pound.

“Do it. Fast.”

“Yes, boss.”

Tony steadied himself and stared at the screen. 15 videos. Peter had been there for 30 hours. A day and a half. A day and a half with this psycho.

He took a deep breath, and with startingly steady hands pressed play on the next video.

Once again, the video opened to wide silver doors, and panned across to Peter, the mans’ voice ringing out from his phone speakers.

“Look at him, Stark. So nice in the chains don’t you think?”

Peter was curled in a small ball, his wrists and feet cuffed to the ground in heavy metal that looked either like Vibranium or Admantinium.

“Stand up, Spider.”

Peter looked up softly and started slowly uncurling himself. The chains clunked dully, and he stood to his tiny height. His shoulder looked like they were almost being pulled out of their sockets by the weight of the restraints, and Tony had never seen Peter look so pale.

“FRIDAY, scan the location.”

“Encrypted video Boss, I’m trying my best.”

“TRY HARDER!”

There was silence over the speakers, so Tony turned his attention back to the video.

“Mr Stark, it’s okay. I’m okay for now I promise. Just-just get me out of here soon? Please? I trust you Mr Stark.”

Tony swallowed thickly.

“Hmm. I wonder how long that trust will last. It seems like you want to find out as well. I hope you’re enjoying your evening, Mr Stark. I trust it will be a long one. Don’t you think little Spider?”

Peter looked at the man through the holes in his mask and stood resolutely still, and Tony watched with disgust as the man stepped forward to run a thumb along Peter’s jawline. Peter snarled.

“Such a fighter. We will break him though, Mr Stark. You can ‘quote me’ on that.”

The camera cut to black.

‘FRI.”

“Boss. No match on the facials or IP yet, but we’re still trying.”

Tony didn’t answer and stared into his hands. How could this have happened? Peter was meant to be in his room. He had turned Jarvis off for a minute, just one minute to check analytics and-

“Boss, this isn’t on you. You didn’t know he needed protection.”

Slamming a hand on the desk, Tony jumped to his feet and turned to where he knew the speakers were. “HE’S A BLOODY KID, FRI OF COURSE HE NEEDS PROTECTION. Just… what, what did I do?”

There was silence, and Tony collapsed back onto the couch.

“Let me know if anything changes.”

“Got it, boss.”

Tony looked over to the bar. A drink looked really good right about now, but he shook his head and scrolled down to the tenth video, once again pressing play.

 The camera opened on steel doors, but this time it stayed there.

“My, my, my Mr Stark. You really are making the little Spider wait. He’s angry with you. Or, rather he would be. We might have to up the stakes hmm? It’s awfully hot in here. It can get hotter. How long do you think Mr Parker will last before he goes delirious? Maybe heatstroke? It’s been… oh, exactly 12 hours since his last drop of water and food. Should we see how long he lasts?”

The camera banned to Peter, and Tony’s heart simultaneously shattered into a million pieces.

He was curled up on the floor, completely still, ridiculously pale and sweating.

“We’re filming again Spiderling. Anything you want to say to Mr Stark?”

“Mr-Mr Stark. I-I don’t know what’s happening Mr Stark. Just-please, please I-I don’t know where you are Mr Stark. Please help me.”

Peter was crying, and his voice was hoarse and cracking. He lapped greedily at the tears that ran down his cheeks, and was met with a resounding slap on the face by one of the men behind him.

“No.”

Peter shuddered and curled back down.

“Ten is a lovely number Mr Stark. Don’t you agree? I promised my boys no touching until ten and I must say, they are very excited. Sadly, Mr Parker doesn’t seem as enthusiastic as them, but I’m sure that is something we can change. Stockholm syndrome and all that.”

The man stepped into the camera frame and faced Peter.

“I must give you credit though, Mr Stark. Your Spider is holding up surprisingly well. You trained him well.”

Trained. Trained like he was a dog.

“This isn’t on Mr Stark.”

Tony almost collapsed with a violent mix of relief and worry when he heard Peter’s voice, scratchy from disuse but still as sure as ever.

No-one responded, so Peter tried again. “It’s not Mr Stark’s fault.”

“Perhaps.” The kidnapper responded. “But he hasn’t come to get you yet? Has he?”

The film stayed running long enough to see Peter’s face fall with disappointment, looking down with unshed tears. Before it cut to black Tony was up and pacing.

“FRIDAY. Voice analysis. Material analysis. Anything!”

“I’m trying boss, hard. JARVIS is too, but we haven’t found anything.”

The smooth voice of Tony’s first (and favorite) AI cut through the speakers. “I must agree Sir. Whoever these men are, they are awfully good.”

“I’m meant to be BETTER. I need to be BETTER!” Tony was half hysterical, and pacing around the penthouse. When after a few minutes he was met with silence from the speakers, he sat back down, looking with disgust at the various technology around him.

“FRIDAY.”

“Boss?”

The AI sounded decidedly cool.

“Lock up the house, and lock down the lab. Power off everything that isn’t necessary to you finding this. All protocols and all codes. I want every stem of manpower we have on this.”

“Confirmation for the de-activation of protocols, Sir?”

She was definitely mad.

“Jotunheim. Turn everything off.”

Once again, the speakers were silent, and after a few moments, all of the lights went out. The comforting hum of the arc reactor went out, and Tony was left alone with his thoughts. He side-eyed the bar, then turned back around to face his phone.

“See if you can find a way to contact Stephen. Be sly.”

The cold silence told him it was done, and he scrolled down to video 12.

The steel doors were a cold comfort that they hadn’t moved anywhere else, and Tony didn’t dare breathe until the cold voice of the kidnapper wafted from the camera.

“It’s been a very long time Mr Stark. I’m sure you want to see your Spider hmm? I’m afraid that’s not possible right now. He’s indisposed.”

The camera stayed still, but Tony could faintly hear some grunts of pain coming from the side of the room. He picked up the sounds of heavy breathing, and there was a heartbeat of ominous silence, before the camera finally, finally panned.

Peter was in the middle of the room this time, hung up by his restraints like a small, pale Jesus.

“Look at your boy, Mr Stark. He looks up to you. He kept calling out your name. Where are you now?”

The three men standing behind Peter stood stoically as their boss moved forward.

“Mr Parker.”

Peter resolutely stared down.

“Mr Parker, look at me.”

Still, Peter stared down, and the man took another step forward, and roughly grabbed his jaw, jerking his head up.

There were tears in Peter’s eyes, but he stared into the eyes of his captor in a way that made Tony’s heart throb.

The two men stood stoically for a moment, but ran forward when Peter slammed his head down on his captors fingers, and reached out to try and bite them.

The man withdrew his hand with an almost disdainful sniff, examining it and re-adjusting his mask.

“My, my little Spider. You certainly do pack a punch. You will pay for this, with your dear Mr Stark watching I may add.”

He nodded to one of the men circling Peter, and they stepped forward.

“I have to thank you, Mr Stark. Had you not taught your boy to be so tough, my men may not be getting as much pleasure out of doing this.”

The man stepped out of the camera frame, and Tony watched with horror as one of his henchmen stepped forward with a small switch knife. Smiling with sick satisfaction, the man takes his time, using the knife to cut away Peter’s torn shirt, and slowly runs the knife along his stomach, and up his neck. When the man cuts forward hard enough to draw blood, Tony is surprised to see blood on his own fists when he looks down, his hands clenching hard enough that he smashed the glass he was holding. He barely feels it, and when he looks back to the video Peter has 3 brand new cuts streaking crimson down his torso.

His guts twists when he sees Peter in full clarity again, holding back a scream with pleading, bloodshot caramel eyes. But what made Tony truly seethe was the pleasure and enjoyment on the goons face as he leisurely dragged the dagger through Peter’s skin, his face lighting up each time a scream escaped Peter’s clenched lips.

When the captor’s voice rings out again, the dread in Tony’s stomach deepened to a level he didn’t know existed.

“Well, Mr Stark, this has been truly entertaining, but it seems we have gone over time. It’s been one day already. If I were you, I wouldn’t be leaving your little Spider too much longer.”

The video cut to black and a message from Tony’s phone gave a dull chime. Video 18.

The mark that Peter had been in this place – wherever it was – for a day and a half. He felt like he was going to throw up, but instead pressed play on the video, dread settling deep into his gut.

This time, the video didn’t open on the steel doors that by this point had come to be a strange reassurance, but instead onto a landscape shot of a street-style boxing ring set up in the middle of a large warehouse. Tony almost jumped when the chilling sound of the captor rung into the room, almost like it was right behind him.

“What do you think, Mr Stark? A fitting place for your little Spider to face his first real opponent? We even have a crowd.”

The shot focused on the mans’ three goons, standing to the corner of the room in a tight formation with their arms crossed.

Tony waited a few moments in sickening silence, before there was a rustling from out of shot, and Peter was flung in by two more goons, who quickly retreated into the shadows.

The masked mans’ voice rang out through the empty warehouse. “Get up, Spider.”

Peter slowly stood up. He was paler than before, and glistening with a small sheen of sweat.

You are known for fighting villains yes? Why don’t you show us how you can fight.”

Tony could see Peter’s haunted eyes even with the camera positioned almost 20 feet away. Even so, he turned to look the masked man in the eye.

“Who first?”

The man had the audacity to laugh. “First? Oh little Spider, so brave. There is no-one first, I’m not cruel. You’ll be fighting me.”

Tony stilled along with Peter. Somehow even the goons seemed surprised. Still, Peter raised into a fighting stance.

When no-one moved, the goons advanced forward. Tony recognized the middle one as the one with a switch knife. His eyes shone with pleasure every time Peter moved in a way that made him wince.

“I’m not going to fight you.”

The man grinned. “So be it then.” He nodded to the goons. “Hold him.”

Tony watched as the men advanced, and efficiently wrestled Peter to the floor. It was a mark of exactly how tired and malnourished Peter was that he barely struggled, kicking a few times before allowing his body to go limp.

The goons positioned Peter to a spread-eagle position on the floor and watched with glee as the masked man took a few strides to stand over them. He bent down slowly, reaching forward a hand to run his knuckles over Peters jaw.

“Have we done it Mr Parker. Finally broken you, hm? With Mr Stark watching?”

Peter didn’t answer.

“Perhaps we finally got under your skin. Or.” The man paused and growled. “Is that what you want us to believe?”

The man’s palm connected to Peter’s collarbone, and he screamed, the interweaving crack echoing through the room. He let out another wail of anguish as the man delivered a harsh slap against the side of his head.

“I thought you weren’t going to fight. Be quiet, yes?”

Peter bit back another scream as the man rammed a finger into the rapidly growing bruise on his shoulder, tears fighting their way to the surface,

“There we go. Finally learning.”

The man smiled, resting for a few moments on Peter’s legs before lunging forward and grabbing his arm, pushing his wrist forward until he heard a crack. The sound mixed with Peter’s muffled scream. immediately joined by a clear pop as the man bent Peter’s thumb back to meet his wrist, a bruise blossoming seconds later.

The scream Peter let out was animalistic, and the slap he got in return was just as loud.

“What. Did. I. Say?”

Peter was sobbing now, tears flowing down his face and mingling with the dried blood left on his chest.

The man pressed Peter’s wrist down further and watched with satisfaction as Peter let out another muffled scream, biting down on his lips until there was blood.

“ANSWER ME!”

“You – you said I - that I should be qui-AAHHH” The end of Peter’s sentence was muffled as the man brought a hand down again on the large bump in his shoulder.

“I said that you promised you wouldn’t fight.”

The man grabbed Peter by his hair and threw him into the corner of the room, where he stayed, immobile and slowly sobbing.

He slowly stalked over, and watched as Peter tried and failed to get up. He kicked, and the sound of boots hitting flesh echoed off the wall with a sickening crunch.

Peter collapsed, and the man turned back around, walking to stare into the camera lens through the gaps in his mask.

“Look at your prized apprentice now Stark. So bruised. So deliciously broken.”

His voice was soft and sweet, and it made Tony sick. He watched as the man re-adjusted his masked, and spared a glance over his shoulder at Peter. “I’m beginning to think that perhaps, you really don’t care after all.”

For once, Tony hoped the video would last longer so that he could be sure they didn’t do anything else to Peter, but once again it cut to black, and he was left with the empty silence of the penthouse.

A knock from the side of the penthouse window drew Tony out of his thoughts, and walking over his shoulder, he saw the shadow of a deep red cloak.

“FRI, open the windows.”

She did so, and Stephen floated into the penthouse, landing softly on the floor, turning to Tony.

“Tony –”

“It’s Peter… He – he.” Tony let out a sob and collapsed into Stephen’s arms, heaving cries wracking through his entire body.

Stephen enveloped him, hands cradling through hair.

“Tones, it’s okay. It’s okay. This isn’t your fault.”

Tony stilled.

“This is on them, Tony. You’re not the one that took him.”

Stephen barely heard Tony’s response. “I was meant to be the one that protects him.”

Gently lifting Tony’s head, Stephen looked him in tear stained eyes.

“We all were. JARVIS as well. These people evidently know what they’re doing Tony. You’re one human man, you can’t put it on yourself to protect a family of superheroes.”

“He’s a kid.” The following sob Tony gave echoed around the room, and he collapsed into Stephen’s arms. He pulled Tony onto the couch.

“We’re all doing everything we can, Tones. You’re not any help to Peter dead though. Sleep. I’ll wake you in an hour.”

Expecting interruption, Stephen ignored Tony’s shuffling and continued.

“FRIDAY and JARVIS are on this Tony. This is quite literally what they were made for. Sleep.”

Stephen was met with silence, and he gave Tony a chaste kiss on the lips before sitting back, resting a hand on Tony’s head.

A few moments later, the phone rung with a new message, and Tony bolted upright.

The video opened on Peter, still bruised from the beating only 15 minutes ago.

“You called a friend, Mr Stark.” The masked man stepped into the camera shot. “Did you forget our rules?”

A violent wave of nausea rushed over Tony as he watched the Switch-Knife-Man approach Peter with a large bat, his eyes shining.

He brought the bat down on Peter with a flat crunch, and Tony watched as Peter jerked limply on the floor. Silent, but moving to cover his new wounds.

Stephen flinched when the bat came down again, hitting Peter right on the stomach and forcing Peter upright to throw up sickly green bile.

They watched as the goon brought the bat back on Peter again and again, getting increasingly excited every time Peter bit his lip with a desperately concealed moan. By hit five, Peter’s clothing was fully torn, and half his torso was black and blue. Tony was sure he had broken at least three ribs by this point, and the man kept hitting.

After ten hits, there was barely a part of Peter’s body that wasn’t black and blue.

The man’s voice rang out from the phone.

“A dozen more for every two hours your friend is by your side, Mr Stark. You have been warned.”

The video cut, and Tony turned to Stephen.

“Out.”

“Tony – ”

“OUT.”

Stephen slowly turned as the cloak wrapped around his torso, looking back when at Tony standing resolutely in the middle of the penthouse before stepping out into the air, the window closing behind him on the way out.

Tony didn’t realize exactly how long he had been in the lab until his phone chimed with another message. At this point, Peter had been with the kidnappers for 2 days. This was video 24, and he really didn’t want to open it.

For the last 6 hours, he had been going through every single possible tracing route he could think of for the IP address, and had (successfully) hacked into the FBI database to scan the masked man's eyes, ears, and tongue. After six hours of extensive work, he had found absolutely nothing. Nada. Nothing at all tracing the villain, and he hadn’t slept in about 45 hours.

With shaking hands and burning eyes, Tony opened the video.

Once again, he was met with a view of the cold, steel doors that he had become intimately familiar with while scanning almost all the infrastructure he could think of, and within a few moments the camera panned to the middle of an empty room.

“Mr Stark, I’m afraid once again Mr Parker is indisposed, but I thought this may be a good time for us to chat.”

The man’s voice made bile rise up in Tony’s throat.

“It has been two days. That’s 48 hours, and you still haven’t found your precious Spiderling. I think he’s beginning to lose faith in you.” He lowered his voice. “And I think I can prove that.”

The camera followed the man as he walked into an adjoining corridor, eventually turning the corner into a small side room.

Immediately, the camera focused on the roaring fire in the center of the room, burning red-blue, and Tony could almost feel the onslaught of heat. It took a few moments for the camera to adjust, and it gently settled on Peter, who was bending over a small stone desk in front of the fire.

Peter was pale, sweating profusely and his eyes were sunken and drowsy. Thankfully, his bruises had healed from the beating, but Tony could still see the faint bump from his broken collarbone.

“Little Spider, tell Mr Stark how you are feeling.”

Peter didn’t answer at first, and the man stalked forward.

“Now, now. You know what happens when you don’t speak. Answer me Mr Parker.”

Peter didn’t even move his head, and Tony could barely hear his reply over a dull chinking from the corner of the room.

“Please, Mr Stark.”

It was little more than a whisper, but Tony’s heart sunk into his stomach. Peter’s voice was hoarse and scratchy from disuse, and he looked seconds away from fainting from the heat of the fire.

The masked man gave a satisfied smirk, and Tony saw the outline of a shadow in the corner of the room.

“Your gift is finally ready Spiderling. Are you ready to accept it?”

“Please, no.” Peter whimpered, and looked up, drawing Tony’s eyes with his.

A red hot branding iron in the shape of a decorative ‘A’ entered the camera frame, hissing with heat and giving off steam.

“Please, please no.”

The man laughed softly. “Come Spiderling, you know we wouldn’t be unfair to you. I do not want to have to use this on you.” He gently picked up the iron. “You only have to do one, simple thing.”

Peter softly whimpered.

“What was that? I don’t think Mr Stark can hear you.”

“Anything. Please, please I’ll do anything.”

Upon closer inspection, Tony realized with a start that the band was made of Vibranium – Peter wouldn’t be able to heal from this. He watched with rapt attention as the man walked towards Peter with the brand, reaching down to card a hand through his hair. Tony winced as Peter was sharply tugged up, and the man leaned down to face him.

“All you have to do, little Spider, is admit Tony isn’t coming for you.”

Peter and Tony stilled.

“Think about it, Spiderling. It’s been two whole days, and he still hasn’t come to get you. You and I both know that if he wanted to find you he could have.”

Peter slowly shook his head.

“I urge you to consider your choice very carefully, Spiderling. If you believe Mr Stark is coming for you, do you really believe he would want you back with this hideous scar?”

The man twirled the iron in his hand, and Peter looked down, tears softly falling down his cheeks onto parched lips.

“He’s coming for me, I know he is.” Peter spoke so softly Tony could barely hear it, but the man’s responsive growl was more than loud enough to be heard over the roar of the fire.

“Come, little Spider. I only have to do this if you don’t do as I say. You could stop this.” The man raised the brand marginally closer to Peters skin and he frantically shook his head, pursing his lips.

The brand got so close that it was casting a red shadow on Peter’s skin and Tony could almost feel the heat on his own skin. He watched with bated breath as Peter got increasingly frantic, writhing under the hold of two of the men’s goons when the brand got close enough to start blistering his skin.

“You know what to do little Spider.” The man rested the brand above Peter’s skin, but Peter was still silent. “Very well.”

Tony watched as the man better positioned the brand atop of Peter’s torso, preparing himself to press it in before –

“Wait! Wait!”

The man cocked his head.

“He’s… He’s not coming… Mr Stark isn’t coming.” Tears were streaming down Peter’s swollen face onto his bruised torso, and the man gave a satisfied smile.

“Very good little Spider. But, you know what happens when you don’t obey fast enough.”

Tony and Peter screamed in unison as the man plunged the iron deep into Peter’s stomach, the hissing sound of flesh mingling with Peter’s wails.

He was hysterical, writhing on the floor and jerking in pain any time his torso moved, the blood on his stomach still cauterizing when the man stood and threw the iron to the side.

“I didn’t want to do this, Spiderling.” He reached down to run his knuckles along the brand, and Peter scrambled away from his touch, crying out in pain. “I did warn you.” He nodded to the goons. “Take him back.”

Two men stepped forward, and Tony watched as they hoisted a writhing, crying Peter over their shoulders and carried him out the door.

The man turned back to face the camera.

“I have to confess Mr Stark, I am disappointed. However, I’m not surprised. The press and the public have known for years that you don’t care about other’s lives. I just wanted to make sure.” He paused.  “I just hope you remember this video every time you try to go to sleep.”

The video cut to black on the masked man’s Cheshire grin, and Tony rose from his seat on steady feet, crossing the lab to the bar.

“Boss.”

“FRIDAY.”

“Boss.

“FRIDAY.”

“Boss, please think about this.”

“Excuse me, FRIDAY this doesn’t sound like information on the kidnapper. Or am I just getting hard of hearing.”

Tony was in the bar now, pouring himself a tumbler of golden scotch.

“Boss, please. Think of Stephen and Peter, they – ”

“THEY’RE ALL I THINK ABOUT!” Tony roared, panting and turned his attention back to his drink.

“Boss, please. You know I can’t let you do this. You put protocols in place for this.”

Tony looked up at the speakers. “FRIDAY I swear to whatever God is out there if you call Stephen, I will pour lemonade all over your circuit boards.”

“Sir, please consider, it’s been years now. This isn’t a –”

Tony downed his glass whole, looking up at the speakers over its rim.

“There. Protocol no longer needed. You only needed to call Stephen if I was considering drinking again. Well, I’m no longer considering it am I?”

Tony listened to silence as he poured and downed another drink.

“Both of you, sleep mode. Power off. Self-destruct or something. I don’t want to hear another word unless it’s about Peter.”

The silence continued as Tony downed one drink. Then two. Then three. Then four. By the fifth, his hands were shaking so bad he couldn’t pour out of the bottle anymore. He was considering either drinking out of the bottle or going down to the lab to get Dum-E to do it for him when a hand snatched the glass away from him.

“Tony.”

“Get out of my house, Stephen. NOW!”

“Tony I’m not leaving this time. You need help, Tones. We can –”

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN WHEN THEY SEE YOU HERE! THAT WILL BE ON YOU!”

Stephen stepped forward, and hand on Tony’s shoulder, and Tony slapped it away, retreating two steps for every one step forward.

“You need to leave. You need to leave right now, otherwise any minute now I’m going to get another video from them, and we both know what’s going to be in it.”

Tony’s voice was hoarse, and he looked towards the New York skyline, eyes and heart burning.

“Tony.” Stephen stepped forward. “If they already know I’m here then it’s too late, but we have two more hours before I have to leave.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that. It’s not going to happen again. It’s not – ”

Tony broke off, tears pooling in his eyes and he turned roughly away from Stephen, walking back towards the bar. He didn’t stop when a hand clasped around his wrist, only roughly shoved it off and took a swig from the nearest bottle.

“Tony this isn’t your fault. Please. Peter wouldn’t want this.”

Their eyes met, and each was shocked to see the other close to crying.

“You don’t know a damn thing about what Peter would want. FRIDAY,” he addressed the speakers. “Cue up the last video.”

Tony watched as Stephen turned his attention to the screen materializing in front of him, taking the opportunity to slip around the bar and grab a fresh bottle. He was a quarter of the way through it when Stephen stepped in front of him, fresh tears forming in his eyes.

“Darling, please. None of this is your fault. Please. You’re not failing. You’re trying to walk into the center of a hurricane, and getting angry when it doesn’t change its path. This isn’t something you can control. They would have done these things to him even if you had got there in time.”

Stephen heard the whir of the suit before he saw the red and gold, and only just stepped back in time when Tony swung a fist around to face him. He watched as the blue repulsors fired up, something he’d seen a million times, but never pointed at him.

“Tony.”

“Out.” Tony was shaking, and swaying slightly, but the repulsors stayed trained on his chest.

They stayed in the same spot until Stephen had closed his portal back to the Sanctum.

Tony waited, then stumbled over to the living room. Pausing a few moments to tear the ring from the chain around his neck, he eventually collapsed onto the couch, ignoring his phone and its insistent buzzing in his pocket.

When Tony woke, his phone had 7 new messages. Which meant it was day 2 and a half exactly. Video 30, of course not including the two additional beatings because of… Stephen.

Tony looked across the room, and he could vaguely see the glint of Vibranium from his wedding ring. He left it there.

He opened the video as soon as his phone unlocked, not bothering to pause for the many messages Stephen had sent him throughout the night.

He zoned out for however long it took the camera to pan to Peter, and was glad he did because the man just wouldn’t stop talking, and that was really bad for his hangover. He zoned back in when the man walked forward, his boots echoing around the small room.

“Little Spider, so mailable for us.” Tony watched as the man stalked forward and ran a hand along Peter’s neck, stopping to squeeze ever-so-slightly. When Peter started to shake from lack of oxygen after a few moments, the man smirked and stepped back, watching with Tony as Peter took a few moments to compose himself, before returning limply to the position he was in before.

The man turned to face the camera and began to address Tony again.

“Mr Stark, both you and I, as well as the little Spiderling here know that you are not coming to take him back. I think the previous few videos made that fairly obvious. But, I am going to keep sending these. Just in case I suppose. Right now, its been about 60 hours. From now, until hour 72, there will be no more videos. However, in case you particularly want to watch your little Spider, we will be giving you the option of a live video stream.”

The man walked to Peter’s side, and lifted his shirt up. Tony’s heart nearly stopped, arc reactor and all. The burn on Peter’s stomach was red and angry, and the Peter shuddered softly as the man ran a hand along it.

“Your Spider has been a lot more convenient to keep since this, I must admit.” The man was almost talking to himself, and his eyes shone ever so slightly each time Peter quietly hissed from lingering pain. “He shouldn’t be able to get this off. My team made sure of it.”

The man retreated from Peter, and began at a brisk pace to the other side of the room, where the camera followed him down a long corridor and into a separate room.

Once there, the man centered himself in the middle of the camera frame, and produced a long, thin syringe from the depths of his robe.

“This is a serum that my team and I have been developing for quite some time. We developed it specifically for your little Spider here. I think he’ll enjoy it. I know I certainly will.”

A goon stepped forward with a swab and antiseptic, and Tony flinched despite himself when the man stabbed it into his own neck.

He watched as the man shivered and coughed a few times before stilling. Slowly, the man’s morphed into a clean-cut, and his face shape morphed. After a few moments the man breathed out slowly and took of his mask, and Tony watched as the remainder of his face morphed cleanly into one with a sharp jawline, sleek cheekbones, smile lines, and a neatly trimmed goatee.

When the man next spoke, it was Tony’s baritone voice that rang out the speakers.

“I hope you stay to watch the show, Mr Stark.”

Tony clicked off the video, and collapsed into a chair, taking a few moments to breathe. Peter.

The camera followed Not-Tony as he strolled around the corner and to just outside the main room, waiting in the shadows while the camera found a good view of Peter, curled onto himself in the center of the room.

One of the goons stepped forward, and it was the first time Tony had heard them speak.

“Mr Parker, you have a guest.”

Peter barely looked up and repositioned himself on the floor, curling around himself in a tighter b.

Not Tony stepped out of the shadows. “Hey, kiddo.”

Peter glanced up, and Tony’s heart dropped when he saw desperate hope lighting up his eyes.

“Mr…Mr Stark?”

Not-Tony stepped forward.

“Peter.”

Peter had started crying now, sobbing in relief in between hoarse gaps for breath.

“Mr Stark. You came. You came!” Peter lurched forward and landed and the man’s feet, weeping and shaking on the ground. “Mr Stark, thank you.”

Peter weakly raised his hands to claw at the fabric of the man’s pants and Tony flinched as his doppelganger reached down to clasp a hand around Peter’s throat.

“Mr… Mr Stark? What are you-” Peter cut off with a choke.

The man grinned as he tightened his grip.

“Look at this.” Not-Tony released his grip and Peter collapsed to the floor, before being jerked up as the man dragged him upwards by his hair.

“You couldn’t get out of this Peter? Look at this. I taught you how to get out of these. Can’t you even remember a simple lesson?”

The man tightened his grip and the chains shattered, the shards digging into Peter’s wrist.

“Surely you could have left Peter. You fought for the Avengers. You should be better than this.”

Tony could see a bruise blossoming on Peter’s wrist, rivulets of blood running down his arm, pooling onto the floor.

“Mr Stark, please. I don’t understand. I couldn’t – ”

The man snarled and stepped forward, face contorting in disgust, and for once Tony understood exactly how terrifying he looked when he was angry.

“Mr… Mr Stark I… I don’t…”

Not-Tony stepped forward to kneel on the ground in front of Peter and grinned manically.

“Really, Pete? You think after all this I came to get you.” The man paused, and shoved up Peter’s shirt, pressing a palm against the red burn on his stomach. “You weren’t strong enough, Peter. You seriously think I would save you?”

Peter was crying now, curling into himself, and weakly trying to protect his burn.

“Sir, please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Mr Stark just please take me home.” The pain and yearning on his face shattered Tony’s heart, and he closed his eyes for a moment, regrouping before staring back up at the video.

“Home? Peter, you don’t have a home. Your parents are dead. Your uncle died because of you. All you are is a burden to your aunt and after this, you really think you are strong enough to be an Avenger? You’re a burden, Peter. A burden, and a failure.”

Tony watched his doppelganger jerk Peter’s head up, tears running down his face onto the burn on his torso.

“You’re a disgrace, Peter.” The man threw Peter onto the ground and Tony watched as he retreated in the corner, shivering and sobbing.

“Please Mr Stark, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Mr Stark! Please. Please Sir I tried.”

Not-Tony stepped forward, and Peter shuffled further backward in the corner.

“You’re a disgrace Peter. You’re one trial intern who just happened to have some good luck. Your powers? Your strength? They don’t come from you. You were just a temporary set-back. An inconvenience. You’re not special Peter.”

They both paused, and Not-Tony gripped Peter’s throat.

“ Say it.”

He grabbed Peter’s jaw, and Tony could see another bruise forming.

“Sir. I…”

Peter winced as Not-Tony gripped harder.

“Say. It.”

“I-I… I’m not worth anything Sir. I’m useless. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry Mr Stark.”

Peter started sobbing in earnest, and the man released his jaw with a grimace.

“I don’t believe you Peter. You’ve disappointed me. Horribly. You deserve this.”

Peter shook in the corner, shaking with silent sobs. He was sweating and shivering, and it broke Tony’s heart as he slowly hugged his knees and folded his arms over his head.

The man turned to face the camera with a satisfied smirk, and Tony jerked his head up from the screen staring wildly around the room.

“FRIDAY.”

“Boss.”

“Get rid of this caller. Block these messages. I don’t care. I don’t want to see these videos ever again.”

“Sir – ”

“Do it. Now.”

Tony could almost hear the AI sigh, but when he looked back down at his phone, the messages were gone. Finally, finally gone. Yet, every time Tony closed his eyes, the image of Peter’s broken spirit burned itself further into his brain.

Tony didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke it was to a glowing yellow portal in his living room, Stephen stepping through it soon after.

“Go away. I’m fine. Totally fine. And I totally don’t need you here.”

Stephen ignored that, and grabbed Tony by the collar, dragging him to the window.

“You need to see this.”

The cloak wrapped around Tony, squeezing just a little bit too tight, and they stepped out into the open air, Stephen muttering enchantments as the cloak took them to who-knew where.

After a few minutes, they stopped, and Tony reluctantly opened his eyes.

“I appreciate the fresh air Strange, but why the hell would you bring me to Times Square?”

“Just look.”

They landed above a building, and Tony unattached himself from the cloak, looking around.

With vague interest, he noted the various crowds of people, some of them filming him (because of course they would be filming him, he’s Iron Man).

After a few moments, one of the largest screens cut to static, and the crowds hushed and turned to face it.

There was a few seconds of silence, and then Tony’s stomach dropped down to his feet.

The masked man stepped onto the screen, malicious-looking and grinning.

“People of New York City,” he took a few moments to compose himself. “You have been lied to.”

This could not be good.

“You have been lied to and manipulated by the people that you look up to the most.”

The video screen cut to a photo of Tony, in his Iron Man suit fighting Ultron.

“This ‘hero’, Iron Man, Tony Stark, the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist has been lying to you, and taking advantage of you.”

A few people in the crowd turned to look at him on the roof while the man continued talking.

“Enter Peter Parker. Tony Stark’s intern, son-figure and prodigy.”

The video cut to Peter, and Tony’s stomach dropped through the floor. He looked worse than when Tony had last checked, shaking on the ground, thin, bruised and silent.

“Mr Parker, or Spider-man, as many of you might know him, has historically been very close to Tony Stark. They worked together every day. The media ate up stories about them, and it seemed like they were truly meant to be ‘father and son’.”

The camera refocussed on the masked man, glee shining in his eyes.

“Peter Parker. Spider-man. Tony Stark’s prodigy child, has been here with me for FIVE DAYS.”

More people in the crowd were turning to look at Tony.

“The powerful Tony Stark, who could blow up half of America without so much as getting out of bed hasn’t been bothered to get HIS SON for five entire days.”

Stephen glanced at Tony, then back at the screen.

“Now, of course you shouldn’t trust me. I’m a villain I captured Spiderman.”

The man grimaced.

“I gave Mr Stark a choice. I gave him every opportunity to find us, and he didn’t. He couldn’t be bothered. Have a look for yourself.”

The man stepped into the shadows, and the camera cut to footage of Tony. Tony-Tony. Tony in his penthouse, watching the videos. Tony at the bar, throwing down drink after drink. Tony on the couch, sleeping, while the lifestream played in the background and he didn’t even remember that.

The footage cut to the man in the mask again, and the square was silent.

“Now, obviously, I cannot tell you what to think. But I urge you to consider, that Tony Stark turned Peter Parker, the Amazing Spiderman, into this.”

The camera panned around the room, and the crowd roared. It was Peter. Peter hanging from those ridiculously heavy chains, no top on and bruised from head to toe, his burn featured on his stomach now with two new, red, inflamed ones on either side.

“He did this.”

The video cut to black, and the crowd surged. Racing towards the building, fighting over each other to reach the famed Iron Man who had let this be done to Peter Parker, the friendly Spiderman.

Tony turned to Stephen, tears and fear in his eyes.

“Ste, please. Help me, I didn’t mean to.”

There was true pain in Stephen’s eyes as he faced Tony, the cloak flexing behind him.

“You did this, Tony. You need to pay the price.”

The cloak and Stephen lifted off the ground, and they were gone in an instant, leaving Tony on the roof of the tower, heavy footsteps falling just a few floors below.

The cloak wrapped around Tony, squeezing just a little bit too tight, and they stepped out into the open air, Stephen muttering enchantments as the cloak took them to who-knew where.

After a few minutes, they stopped, and Tony reluctantly opened his eyes.

“I appreciate the fresh air Strange, but why the hell would you bring me to Times Square?”

“Just look.”

They landed above a building, and Tony unattached himself from the cloak, looking around.

With vague interest, he noted the various crowds of people, some of them filming him (because of course they would be filming him, he’s Iron Man).

After a few moments, one of the largest screens cut to static, and the crowds hushed and turned to face it.

There was a few seconds of silence, and then Tony’s stomach dropped down to his feet.

The masked man stepped onto the screen, malicious-looking and grinning.

“People of New York City,” he took a few moments to compose himself. “You have been lied to.”

This could not be good.

“You have been lied to and manipulated by the people that you look up to the most.”

The video screen cut to a photo of Tony, in his Iron Man suit fighting Ultron.

“This ‘hero’, Iron Man, Tony Stark, the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist has been lying to you and taking advantage of you.”

A few people in the crowd turned to look at him on the roof while the man continued talking.

“Enter Peter Parker. Tony Stark’s intern, son-figure and prodigy.”

The video cut to Peter, and Tony’s stomach dropped through the floor. He looked worse than when Tony had last checked, shaking on the ground, thin, bruised and silent.

“Mr Parker, or Spider-man, as many of you might know him, has historically been very close to Tony Stark. They worked together every day. The media ate up stories about them, and it seemed like they were truly meant to be ‘father and son’.”

The camera refocussed on the masked man, glee shining in his eyes.

“Peter Parker. Spider-man. Tony Stark’s prodigy child, has been here with me for FIVE DAYS.”

More people in the crowd were turning to look at Tony.

“The powerful Tony Stark, who could blow up half of America without so much as getting out of bed hasn’t been bothered to get HIS SON for five entire days.”

Stephen glanced at Tony, then back at the screen.

“Now, of course, you shouldn’t trust me. I’m a villain I captured Spiderman.”

The man grimaced.

“I gave Mr Stark a choice. I gave him every opportunity to find us, and he didn’t. He couldn’t be bothered. Have a look for yourself.”

The man stepped into the shadows, and the camera cut to footage of Tony. Tony-Tony. Tony in his penthouse, watching the videos. Tony at the bar, throwing down drink after drink. Tony on the couch, sleeping, while the lifestream played in the background and he didn’t even remember that.

The footage cut to the man in the mask again, and the square was silent.

“Now, obviously, I cannot tell you what to think. But I urge you to consider, that Tony Stark turned Peter Parker, the Amazing Spiderman, into this.”

The camera panned around the room, and the crowd roared. It was Peter. Peter hanging from those ridiculously heavy chains, no top on and bruised from head to toe, his burn featured on his stomach now with two new, red, inflamed ones on either side.

“He did this.”

The video cut to black, and the crowd surged. Racing towards the building, fighting over each other to reach the famed Iron Man who had let this be done to Peter Parker, the friendly Spiderman.

Tony turned to Stephen, tears and fear in his eyes.

“Ste, please. Help me, I didn’t mean to.”

There was true pain in Stephen’s eyes as he faced Tony, the cloak flexing behind him.

“You did this, Tony. You need to pay the price.”

The cloak and Stephen lifted off the ground, and they were gone in an instant, leaving Tony on the roof of the tower, heavy footsteps falling just a few floors below.

“I did this.”