#superherotiger

Then, everything is forced back into motion when an arm wraps around his chest and rapidly wrenches him towards the surface. Under any other circumstances he’d be grateful, if it weren't the same person who just forced him to the bottom of the ocean. As soon as they breach the surface, the dimmed sound of familiar repulsors reach his clogged ears. It’s little consolation as they're flown through something with a crash, but he still can't get his muscles to move. If he could just move, fight back and at least get out of his grip one more time, then he could-

Suddenly, he's hurled through the air, limbs flailing and heart pounding through his ears. Panic finally graces him with its presence and he manages to choke in a breath, but it’s too little, too late. His ears ring sharply with the brutal, ice-cold impact that slams into his side without remorse. Blood splatters in stark contrast to the pale snow that does nothing to cushion his fall. Helplessness starts to sink in when the snow beneath him invades the broken, metal circuits of his Spider suit.

The exhaustion renders his body worthless as Superior Iron Man, Tony, his dad, lands beside him, rolls him onto his back, and punches his chest so violently that the ground around him cracks. There's no hesitation, only the sound of his suit shattering as his dad’s fist collides with the emblem. The deep crimson of his blood blends in with the scarlet fabric, air violently being forced from his lungs as his body jerks before going motionless again. He can't hear much else after that, but feels the mountain rumble when the avalanche blankets him in a harsh, unforgiving cold.

Everything blurs together once he’s lifted into the air again by his arm. Blood drips from his lips, his nose, his chest, and he can barely open his swollen eyes to look at the man who raised him. A man he wanted to be proud of him, someone whose footsteps he sought to chase after. His hero. Now, all he’s met with is a glare of contempt and an impatient huff.

“Had enough yet?” Tony’s question is ruthless, holding Peter up like expendable garbage to be abandoned…or destroyed. However, Peter’s resolve never wavers despite the hate in those glowing, electric blue eyes that once brought him comfort.

“I’m not going to take over a company that kills people. I'll stop you,” he wheezes out past his bloodied lips. Without so much as a flinch, the frown on Tony’s face deepens.

“I'm ready when you are,” is all the warning he gets before another punch sends him careening into the adjacent mountainside.

This impact sends a jolt of pain throughout his entire body, nerves alight with fiery agony as they fight in vain to catch up. He lies in the crater, gasping while his chest scrapes against the jagged rocks. His father hovers behind him, silver endo-sym armor still painted in blood from all the people he…

“You're doing this for nothing,” Tony berates, beating his point into the ground almost as much as he is Peter. “Being a part of our empire will make Earth better than it ever was.” Regardless of his father’s efforts to convince him that he's the one in the right, Peter forces his trembling muscles to push himself up. He looks over his shoulder at his dad, blood coating one of his eyes, his vision hazy.

“And what if they resist?” he demands as forcefully as he can in a voice garbled by blood.

“That's why we're here,” Tony accentuates as if talking to a toddler, even more anger oozing into his voice. “To keep them from resisting. To show them how wrong they are, how pointless it is…That they can be a part of something bigger.” There’s a brief pause as he lands with a menacing, metallic clunk. “Or die.” Peter’s eyes widen minutely. No. No. That’s not going to happen, he won't let it. So, he stands on unworthy legs and lifts his shaking fists.

“I won't let you,” he grits out. “You’ll have to kill me, ‘cause I won't just stand by ‘n watch.” At that, Tony falters. He’s witnessed that determined look on Peter’s face too many times over seventeen years; when he was resolute on learning to ride a bike, steadfast in playing chess, persistently studying for exams. Yet here Peter is, fists raised and that familiar look pinned on him. Tony’s face softens imperceptibly at the sight of his son, clenching his hands so hard the metal groans in his grip.

“I did it for you.” With that, his fist rockets towards Peter’s face once again, and this time the teen hears the crunch as much as he feels it. That’s all it takes for the last of his adrenaline to deteriorate, leaving him like a marionette without its strings as he crumples to the ground in a pained heap. “I raised you too soft. You're a Stark in blood only!” The restraint from earlier is gone as another blow comes crashing towards Peter’s face. An eruption of pain engulfs his already battered head, but apparently it’s not enough.

“You won’t join me? You want to die for these people?”

Punch.

“Fine.”

Punch.

“What's seventeen more years?”

Punch.

“I can always start again.”

Punch.

“Make another kid.” That sentence alone hurts more than any punch his dad could ever give. The thought that he’s something so easily replaceable by someone he’d live and die for. In all his years of Spider-Manning, he’s never felt such pure, unbridled, indescribable pain. And it’s all coming from his dad.

Punch.

“Build another,” Tony amends. “One that doesn't talk back or retaliate or-"

“Or love you?” Peter rasps out, eyes completely swollen shut and breathing ragged. His face is so coated in blood that bare skin is hardly visible. Tony’s already-wound fist freezes, crazed eyes staring down at the kid…his kid, in pain because of him. The baby boy he raised. And he wonders if it was all actually fake, or if he was lying to himself the whole time, too.

The memory his mind latches onto is a science fair from a decade ago. Of all the times to second-guess his motives, to be nostalgic of all horrible things, it had to be now.

“What are you doing,” a voice calls as Tony broods in the corner of the bumbling room. Pepper walks up to him, her heels clacking against the linoleum floor, with a slight frown.

“If I have to sit here and watch this…competition,” he says with distaste, “I'd have a better view looking down on them.” Only one of them knows he doesn't mean from the air.

“You know you can't do that. It's bad enough you're standing over here like an outcast. Come sit down and wait for the judges,” Pepper urges with a soft smile, guiding him towards Peter’s table set-up. Their son is standing in front of his science project, grinning with a recently-lost-tooth in his smile and a blazer that's slightly too big for him.

“This is a waste of everyone's time. There's so much more I could be doing in the workshop right now,” Tony continues to heatedly complain, but his eyes slightly soften upon seeing how happy Peter is.

“Go stand by your project, Peter! Oh! They're coming!” Pepper cheers when the judges round the corner of the tables. In contrast, Tony’s expression hardens again.

“We already know he's smarter, why do we have to prove it?” The exasperation is so all-encompassing in his tone that Pepper sighs.

“Look at Peter,” she nods towards their kid. “You and I, we chose him. He's ours. When he feels joy, we feel joy. See that look on his face? How can you see that and not feel the same way? As we get older, it's harder to feel that. The weight of the world, it bogs us down. Nice one, baby!” She pauses to cheer on Peter. “But our children remind us of the joys in life. It brings us back, shows us what life is all about. This is humanity.” Tony stares at the bouncing, brown head of curls as Pepper speaks, his feelings bleeding into his now-relaxed posture. The judges hand Peter a ribbon, who then runs full speed at Tony with his arms open.

“Look! I did it!” Peter shouts, jittering in excitement, before leaping into his father’s hold.

“Good job!” Pepper praises as she ruffles his hair. The boy laughs, then looks up at Tony with those doe eyes.

“Did you see, Dad? Did you see?” Peter questions with such enthusiasm that his eyes practically sparkle. Tony’s smile mirrors his, and pulls his kid to his chest.

“Yeah…I sure did, kiddo.” He holds Peter tighter. “I'm so proud of you.”

The memory fades and he's left looking at his seventeen-year-old kid…beaten, broken, and all done by his hands. Peter draws in slow breath after breath, air passing through with painful wheezes as blood drips off his chin. Both his chin and the bridge of his nose are split open, his cheek is broken and swelling, and even his teeth are aching from the nonstop blows. Even though he can blearily see past his blood-encrusted eyelids, his dad towers over him with a bloody fist lifted. Tony holds it midair, clenching even harder, but can't bring himself to bring it down again. He just can't.

“Dammit!” he yells in frustration. The weight of what he's done makes him crash to the ground beside Peter. They both lay in the crater, the teen on his back as his chest rattles and his father breathing heavily. The billionaire lets his head drop to the side, watching as Peter’s chest barely rises and falls. Then, the rage floods his system. “Why did I do this?” he whispers to himself with a cracked, wavering voice.

He can't let the guilt in, otherwise he knows he’ll never be able to go back. There's no room in his life for such things. He's too far gone. Instead, he replaces it with rage, desperately trying to get his son to understand.

“We're so far above their intellect!” he screams, getting to his hands and knees. “Why do you want to help the little guys? What's the point?! What did they ever do for you?!” Despite the anger, he can't manage to open his eyes, let alone look at Peter’s face. He screws his eyes shut tighter. “You're fighting so you can watch everyone around you die! Think, Peter!” He points to his head to accentuate his words. “We’re gods! You’ll outlast all these insignificant beings, watch them crumble to dust and blow away! Everyone and everything you know will be gone!”

Through the yelling, Peter doesn't do more than breathe, albeit barely. He breathes out thin wisps of blood that fly past his lips. There isn't even enough strength to open his eyes, not that he could. Everything aches no matter how little he moves, yet nothing compares to the heartbreak. God, he just wants to sleep.

“What are you going to have when everything else burns away?!” Tony’s scream yanks Peter back to the painful awareness of everything and he's forced to consider the question demanded of him. He says the first thing that comes to mind.

“You, Dad…” he answers truthfully, missing the way Tony’s expression slowly falls with regret. “I’d still have you…” His father’s bloodied hands suddenly retract and the overwhelming warmth, whether it was comforting or ominous, disappears. “…Dad?” Peter chokes out, the thought of Tony leaving after all that utterly unbearable. He's already endured so much. Lost so much.

Tony’s eyes widen in a brutal, soul-crushing realization of what he’s put his kid through, what he’s done with his own hands. The waves of guilt he forced back before now crash over him in a violent tidal wave of anguish. He lifts his trembling hands to stare in abject horror at the red enveloping his hands.

This is his fault.

It’s all his fault.

He crashes to his knees as the weight of his sins become too much to bear. Collapsing into the crater next to Peter, he can't help the guilt filling in his eyes and falling down his cheeks. He runs his fingers gently through the sweaty, blood-matted curls of his boy, holding back sobs.

“Oh god, I'm, I'm so fucking sorry, Jesus, fuck.” His voice breaks from the thickness of the emotions wrapping around his throat like a vice. Peter tries to speak, hearing the warbled voice of his dad, but any words get lost in the merciless hacking his lungs force him to endure. The hold on him loosens to allow him a deeper breath, even though it does little to help the grinding and shifting of fractured ribs.

“S okay…I, I s-still love you,” he barely manages to get out through red-stained teeth. Seeing his son so fragile, in pain from his black eyes to his broken toes, Tony’s hate is suddenly directed at himself.

“That makes one of us, kiddo,” Tony grinds out with newfound anger. Anger at what he's created as he became someone who would go to such lengths to do this to his own child, and it bubbles over into a rage.

He's given himself enough rope to hang himself.

With his free hand, he wrenches the endo-sym armor from his body. The collar of the suit slowly pries away from him like tar, stubbornly trying to stick to him no matter how much he wants to purge it from existence entirely. Something about the way the suit clings to him for dear life, almost ripping the clothes underneath at the seams, makes him wonder how long he let the suit control him instead of the other way around. With one last final tug, he sends the silver encrusted suit flying with all his strength, as far away from them as he can manage.

Then, he faces what he’s wrought.

Tears well in his eyes as his son merely lays in the crater of his own making. Peter makes no move to run or fight back, not anymore, not that he can at this point.

Instead, Tony lays down next to his kid and wraps him in a protective hold as if he wasn’t the cause. He tucks Peter’s strengthless head under his chin and pulls the teen as close as possible, his own son’s blood soaking into his clothes. A tremor-ridden hand lifts and, as gently as he can manage, Tony cups Peter’s face. His thumb carefully ghosts over his cheek, almost as if his delicate touch can hold enough regret to take it all back.

It can’t.

It never will.

“What are you doing,” a voice questioned.

Startled, Peter frantically turns around to face the new voice- a voice he recognizes, his dad, Tony Stark. Famous inventor, the hero Iron Man, but, in this case, also his enemy. Tony wasn’t going to let him do it, he realized. Tony wasn’t going to let him do what had to be done. He wasn’t going to understand that he had to press the detonator. He couldn’t stop. If he didn’t do it, May was going to die. Everyone he loved- even Tony was going to die. Because of him. Because he couldn’t do what he was told to do. He had to press the button.

The button was red and glossy, almost like it was out of a cartoon of some sort. He could feel it beckoning him closer, just begging him to press it. “Tony?” Peter responded. “Tony- what are you doing here? Why are you here? You shouldn’t be here, you need to go.” This wasn’t part of the plan- all he needed to do was press the button. Then, everyone he loved would be safe. Then, everything would be alright. He would be free. Free from the pain and torment of his painful deeds. Free from the guilt weighing him down. Free, allowed to float for an eternity.

As his thoughts raced, Tony began to approach. With his arms outstretched he makes his way down the hallway towards the room where Peter waits. Peter, who stands with his back to both a wall and a table- a table where a red button sits with wires snaking out of it to the floor. 

“Kid, you don’t need to be scared, I don’t want to hurt you- I just want to help. But, to do that I need to know what you are doing? What is going on here? Why are you in a room with an ominous red button? Let me help, we can figure this out just like we always do- together.” Tony pleads. A look into his eyes promises that he is being genuine, that he really does believe that he can help, but Peter knows better. It's too late, they have May and they’ll take Tony. He can’t watch anyone else he loves die again- not when he can stop it. He has to do it. He has to press it.

Slowly, Peter begins to turn to face the table where his destiny awaits. He has to finish this, end it, he has to do it so that everyone he loves will be okay. “I’m doing what I have to do. They have May, Tony. What else do you want me to do? I have to do it- but it’ll be okay. All of you will be okay.” He answers with an accepting smile. “It’s all going to be okay.”

Peter presses the button and a smile graces his face- now he can be free. 

Seconds after he presses the button everything moves quickly. He can hear a shout, a heartbreaking scream of “No” that could have only come from Tony, but he ignores it. He spreads his arms and prepares to embrace it, he prepares to meet death and be held in her cozy arms, after all it's what he deserves. 

The sweet embrace never comes. Instead, he feels himself be tackled to the ground as the explosions begin. He can feel liquid running out of his ears- everything is so loud yet he can hear nothing. He can feel the vibrations as the earth shakes. He can feel the vibrations as buildings across the city topple. Because of him- he did this- he’s a monster, he thinks. But he doesn’t care because it means that May is safe. He doesn’t have to watch her die- not like his parents, not like Ben, Parker luck doesn’t get to take her. Instead, it can have him. 

Moments pass before the weight on his back is moving. As soon as he is able, he scrambles away from Tony. Looking to his left he sees a hole in the wall. A hole that lets him look out onto his home, the city he loved, the city that he destroyed. On the street he recognizes his fellow Avengers. From Captain Rogers to Thor, he sees them, and they’re all looking at him. Looking at him with sympathy.

Turning, he sees Tony. Tony, who saved him. Tony, the man who has done so much for him that he is practically his father. Tony, who loves him- even now when he doesn’t love himself. 

Grasping the wall for support, Peter stands and truly looks at Tony. What he sees surprises him- the suit is in pieces. Parts from the side nearest to the explosion are black or gone. The skin underneath looks burned. He did this- he was responsible for Tony’s pain, the voice in the back of his mind whispered. And it was time for him to pay for it.

“Tony-” He calls and then waits to make sure Tony is looking at him. “I need you to do one more thing for me.” Taking a step forward, his legs nearly buckle. Tony rushes forward to grab him. “I need you to kill me. It was part of the deal. I pressed the button and I died- you all got to live.”

Tony stares at him in disbelief. He’s in shock- like he can’t believe what Peter is asking of him. “Please Tony, they said they were going to hurt everyone if I didn’t do what I was told- they promised me. They showed me May, Pepper, Happy and then You. They’re gonna hurt them, please Tony, please…” he begged as his breathing picked up. If Tony didn’t do it then he was going to lose everyone again. Everyone he loved was going to die, again, just because he couldn’t do what he was told. Parker luck strikes again.

Holding him, Tony stared. “Okay.” he whispered. Gently, he lets go of Peter and Peter falls to the ground. On his knees, he looks up at Tony as he glances around the room- like he was questioning if he was really going to do this. “I love you Peter, never forget that.” Tony speaks, his voice wet as Peter can see the tears start to roll down his mentor's cheeks. With a glance towards his right hand, the nanotech begins to move and takes the shape of a sword. 

Once again, Peter looks unto the city that he loved and to the street where his fellow Avengers remain. They look shocked and Peter can see Thor summoning his hammer, like he is going to try and come save Peter from Tony. But, he is too late. As Peter turns his glaze onto Tony’s once more, he smiles and nods. Then, his vision goes white. All he can feel is burning white-hot pain coming from his center. Then, he hears the screams. The screams that echo from below but also from in front of him. Tony comes crashing to the ground and the nanotech blade disappears. Quickly, Tony pulls him close and he begins to weep. His eyes shine with sorrow and regret. Peter looks around once more through his own clouded eyes and then stares into Tony’s. “It’s okay,” he says as the pain increases and his sight begins to fade, “It’s okay.” And then, Peter is gone. Into the arms of death where she will readily comfort and embrace him. Into the eternity where he will find peace.

----------

Tony jolts with a start. There are tears rolling down his face and his body shakes. He- he killed Peter? Peter is dead? Scrambling, he throws his feet over the edge of the bed and into his slippers. He has to check.

Walking out of his bedroom door, he begins to make his way down the hall. Just a couple more doors- and there it is. Peter’s room. The room he had made for him all those years ago- the room that Peter has decorated with Star Wars and Superhero figurines. Turning the know quietly, he peeks inside. And asleep in his bed lies Peter. Peter, who has one leg off the bed and nearly half his body out from underneath his blanket.

Taking care not to let the door creak, Tony opens it more before entering the room. Walking towards the bed where his kid lies is nerve wracking. What if Peter was in bed but he was dead? As he reaches Peter he places his hand over the kid's chest. A steady bump bump answers him. His kid is alright. It was just a dream. Bending over, he fixes the kid's leg and blanket. Moving towards his head he lifts his hand and brushes the hair off his forehead. With a smile he bends over again and places a gentle kiss on Peter’s forehead. “Goodnight kiddo,” he whispers before making his way back to the door.