Bug boy || Peter Parker

Thirty Eight

Ned had tracked Peter's phone to a abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city. Peter winced as he crashed Flash's car into a street lamp. He winced at the now rather battered sports car that probably cost more than his flat. "Peter!" Callum's voice down the phone was worried. He hopped from the vehicle, phone still pressed to his ear. "Peter, I'm not getting an answer from Tate or Happy".

"Keep trying", Peter ordered. "I'm going inside". 

"Be careful!" Ned called just before Peter hung up. 

He snuck in through the ceiling, lowering himself down on a web before looking around. The building must have been the Vulture's base as tools and half finished weapons littered the first room. The metal wings were hung on a platform, still and silent as Peter walked passed. He crept silently into the next room. This not an empty space of concrete pillars and dust. Mr Toomes was at the other end. Sat at a simple desk right at the far wall. His form lit by the weak yellow of a desk lamp. 

Peter strode forwards. "Hey! Surprised?"

 Mr Toomes glanced round. "Oh hey Pete. I didn't hear you come in". The man turned and leant against the desk to fully face Peter. 

"It's over. I got you!"

Mr Toomes didn't seem bothered by Peter's announcement. "I've got to tell you Pete. I really, really admire your grit. I see why Liz likes you. I do. When you first came to the house, I thought 'really?' but I get it now". He pulled a jacket from his chair, some heavy thing lined with fleece, and pulled it on as he spoke. 

"How could you do this to her?" Peter couldn't help but ask.

"To her? I'm doing this for her". Mr Toomes sighed at the disbelieving snort that escaped Peter's mouth. "Peter. You're young", he stated with the tone of voice adults often got. One that said that they knew everything and there was no way for a child to understand. "You don't understand how the world works".

"Yeah but I understand that selling weapons to criminals is wrong".

"How do you think your buddy Stark paid for that tower or any of his little toys? Those people Pete, those people up there, the rich and the powerful. They do whatever they want. Guys like us, you and me, they don't care about us. We build their roads and fight all their wars and everything. They don't care about us. We have to pick up after them, we feed on there table scraps. That's how it is. I know you know what I'm talking about Peter". 

Peter shook his head with a sigh, coming to a stop. "Why are you telling me this?" 

"Because I want you to understand, and I need a little time to get her airborne". That was when the metal vulture wings crashed through the wall behind Peter. He leapt up and backflipped over them. The wings the soaring round and crashing into the columns as Peter ducked and dodged. 

"Sorry Peter", Mr Toomes called over the sound of falling rubble. 

"What are you talking about? They haven't even touched me yet!"

Then the roof caved in on top of him.

-------

Peter came too with a gasp. He must have only been out a few seconds but it was a few seconds too long. His whole body hurt, weight pressing down on him as he gasped. The rubble and concrete compressing his ribs as he choked on air. One hand pulled free and he tugged his mask from his face. The air filled with dust and water was dripping somewhere. Peter was pretty sure that he was bleeding but couldn't tell how much or where it was coming from. He dropped the mask to the floor as he gasped and grunted. 

He could feel his breaths staring to come faster as the pressing weight of being buried alive turned into panic. "Come on, come on", he panted before straining against the weight. For a second he pushed. Grunting at the effort but the rubble barely moved. He let go with a cry of pain and fear. He was going to die here, away from everyone and alone. "Hello! Hello! Anyone please! I'm down here! Please!" His voice cracked and he could feel tears on his face. 

Mr Toomes was gone and Peter was stuck here. Trapped and slowly suffocating under tons of concrete. "I'm down here! I'm down here! I'm stuck! I can't move. I can't"- he broke off with a stifled sob. Voice quieting as he just took a moment to breathe. 

He looked down. Water had dripped to form a puddle directly under his face. His mask lay abandoned half submerged. Next to it was the blurry, dim refection of his face. Skin grimy with dust and a cut bleeding on his forehead. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this. The vulture was going to get away with whatever he was planning. Peter's brain clicked. A flight. Mr Toomes had told Liz that he was catching a flight tonight. Wasn't there something else happening tonight?

Peter gasped as his memory answered. Tate. Moving day. Tate was supposed to be flying the last of the avengers gear from Stark tower to the headquarters upstate. "Shit, shit shit", Peter muttered aloud. "Fuck. He's going to rob the plane. Tate's flying the plane! Shit". He wriggled as much as he could under the rubble. Eyes fixed on the image of his face and the mask in the water. 

"If you're nothing without this suit then you shouldn't have it". Tony Stark's statement.

"You are amazing and strong Peter". Tate's encouraging words and supportive smile. He was in danger and Spiderman needed to save him. 

Peter took a deep breath, hands gripping the rock above him. "You can do it Spiderman", he whispered to himself. "Come on Spiderman". Then he was pushing. Yelling aloud with the effort as slowly the concrete began to move. He managed to get to his feet and kept on pushing, throwing his whole body into the effort. The the rubble shifted and he was throwing it to the side and climbing out of the hole. Whole body aching but the adrenaline of success buzzing in his veins. 

He swung himself up onto the billboard and gazed over the view of the city. Distantly, he could see the glowing light of Stark tower. At any minute a plane was going to take off with cargo that The Vulture was planning to steal, and a boy who would get unwittingly caught in the crossfire. Peter didn't plan to let that happen. 

unedited