“I know your secret.”
Peter shook his head against the harshness of the raspy voice that seemed to permeate through the entire room, the echo reverberating through his sensitive ears and sending a shiver down his spine. In the faint moment of quiet that followed he hated himself for not being able to remember what had happened. He faintly recalled being on his way to meet with Happy after patrol. He had just jumped down to retrieve his clothes and backpack when he recognized the anxious feeling of danger pulling at his chest before a wall of blank asserted itself.
“Your dirty little secret.”
Rough tendrils snaked through his hair; tiny pricks of pain erupted from every follicle as they pulled brutally against the strands. Peter grunted at the feeling, grimacing as he tried to raise a hand to shove against the pain only to be stopped short by something gnawing at his wrists.
Peter blinked heavily trying to clear the fog that seemed to have wrapped itself around him like a blanket. He tried to ignore the warming darkness that begged him to forget the outside world and slip away and glanced down towards his hands. His forehead crinkled in confusion at the several coils of rope he saw wrapped bitingly around his wrists. He jerked his hand a few times and blinked in bewilderment when the restraints stayed intact. He should have been able to break those tiny threads easily… He tugged a few more times trying to understand why nothing was happening. Peter blinked slowly feeling himself drift as his head slowly moved to the left against his volition.
"I know your secret."
Peter groaned and tried to curl in on himself but was once more brought up short by the hand in his hair and the restraints keeping him securely in place. He’d have to remember to thank whoever for their knot tying skills, 0% Spidey approved, 100% would not recommend. He chuckled softly at the quip before his head was shoved forward and then roughly pulled back. The singular red bulb above caught his eye and drew his attention to the eerie shadows it cast throughout the small space. From his periphery he swore he could see a mass moving in the darkness and wondered what was lurking in the corners of the room. What sort of monsters were hiding in there? Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath trying to ignore the feeling that something was watching him from within the shadows. He thought he might have drifted off before his head was roughly yanked to the right.
“YOUR DIRTY. LITTLE. SECRET!”
He jerked against the gruffness of the movement. These people knew no hospitality, he would definitely be leaving a bad review on yelp. Did people even use yelp anymore? He’d have to ask Karen when he was free. His head was pushed forward once more before the tight grip on his hair was gone allowing him to sag in relief.
From above, he could faintly hear his captor talking to persons unknown and groaned. His head rolled against the back of his chair while he licked his chapped lips. “You. Suck.” He whispered pitifully.
The grin he received in reply wasn’t comforting in the least and had Peter squeezing his eyes closed against a rough pat on the cheek.
“Enjoy it, Kiddo. If Daddy Warbucks doesn’t pony up? You and I are going to become the best of friends.”
The man smirked before reaching to click the red light off, plunging the room into darkness.
“Nap time already?” Peter questioned quietly as a door opened and closed somewhere behind him leaving him, he assumed, alone.
This was humiliating. Since when did he become Spiderman boy-hostage? He was not Robin to Tony Starks Batman. He wasn’t! Except… Peter glanced about the darkened room with a sigh. He totally was.
He tugged on his restraints once again with more strength than intended and cursed when he ended up smacking himself in the head after the rope snapped.
Peter grabbed the ropes around his other wrist and pulled, grateful when the pressure disappeared, and he could move his other hand freely. He bent down to check his feet but had to pause when his head protested against the sudden change in position. Even though the room was pitch black and he couldn’t see anything, it felt as if everything around him was tilting, leaning sideways; he squeezed his eyes closed hoping that would help alleviate the nauseous feeling. He tried to breath slowly through the disorientation and the need expel the contents of his stomach; and, after a few moments, his body adjusted.
He hissed, eyes still closed against the slip sliding feeling, and he pried at the ropes around his ankles - a rather undignified squeak escaped him when the ropes broke and sent him crashing face first into the concrete floor.
“So. Lame.” Peter murmured sliding his hands underneath him and pushing himself to his knees. He took a moment to allow himself a chance to get his bearings before he squinted against the darkness hoping to be able to make out the contents of the room. But without a light source the room was just a solid sheet of black.
He was just about ready to make his way to his feet when a faint mechanical hiss caught his attention. He tilted his head up to try and discern where it had originated but couldn’t find the source. A faintly sweet smell drifted around him – marshmallow, he thought. It was pleasant and sent a warm fuzziness through him, making his toes and fingers tingle. It felt as if he had spun to many time on the merry-go-round. He chuckled a little at the thought and wasn’t really sure why it was funny - but it was. He leaned against the chair legs behind him and blinked sluggishly. He should get up… Happy would be worried if he didn’t try and get to him. Maybe, maybe he should call Happy and tell him he’d be late? He would do that. He’d call and apologize after he took a nap, he was just… so… tired. Peter sighed as the world blinked out around him.
A harsh bang jolted Peter awake, his heart pounding painfully against his chest. He turned to where he thought he’d heard the noise and listened. The grating bang resounded once more from in front of him and this time it was accompanied by shouts and what he could only assume was gun fire. Peter pushed himself to stand unsteadily against the chair and strained to hear the commotion outside. He could hear a scuffle and a very undignified scream before an unknown object slammed roughly into something on the other side of the door ahead of him.
There was a brief pause that had his ears burning from the quiet before the door to the room strained against its hinges and fell with a dull clatter to the floor.
Peter blinked against the sudden onslaught of light, squinting and trying to discern the shadowed figure in front of him with a crinkled brow.
“Kid, I swear.”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter started at the admonishment, relief rushing through him, “It wasn’t my fault this time…”
Ironman walked to stand in front of Peter with a sigh. “You okay?”
Peter blinked owlishly before replying. “Feel fuzzy…?”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Tony disengaged his suite and stood before Peter with pursed lips, his warm hands gently tilted Peter’s head up giving him a better view of the black eye and gash across the teenager’s face. Tony’s eyes seemed to darken for a moment before clearing his throat and running a gently hand through Peter’s hair.
“Mr. Stark?” Peter questioned worriedly, wincing when Tony’s hand brushed over a particularly sensitive spot.
Tony let his hands fall with a nod. “Alright, let’s go. Cho’s waiting to check you over. Plus, I believe there is a very angry Aunt waiting to chew us both out.”
Peter shuddered, May could be scary when she wanted to.