Bug boy || Peter Parker

Forty

Toomes stuck first, lunging with one hand outstretched to grab at him. Tate ducked under the arm and twisted in the land an elbow directly into the man's stomach before following it shortly after with a knee to the groin. Just as the man doubled over, he rammed his elbow into his face, the very point of his elbow landing on his eye. Toomes cried out and blinding grabbed at him. Tate yelped, too slow to move back. The man caught him and picked him up, practically throwing him away. The adult's strength giving Tate a disadvantage. 

The boy hit one of the crates with a painful thud that knocked the wind out of him before sliding down it to the ground with a groan. His ribs were on fire. No suit to protect him, no powers an no healing. He was on his own with his weak child body against a man a whole head taller than him. Still, he pushed himself up onto his feet anyway, ignoring the twinges in his knees from the tumble. Mr Toomes wiped blood from his eye. Tate's blow having left a small cut in the skin of his eyebrow. "You fight dirty kid. I'll give you that. Better stand down now before you regret it". 

Tate raised himself up, breathing heavily and blew his hair out of his eyes as he raised his fists. "You tried to kill my friend. You are trying to steal my dad's stuff. And you want to kidnap me. I don't think I will". 

Mr Toomes shrugged in a 'suit yourself' gesture then lunged again. Tate dodged to the side, half stumbling as his out of practice legs refused to work the way he wanted them to. He bumped against a crate and rebounded off of it just as the man threw a fist through the air where he had just been standing. The blow left him open and Tate grabbed him but the shoulders, flipping up over him in a practised move and swinging his legs around the man's neck. (It was above his friends constantly made fun off but it was also one that Natasha had taught him before the whole avengers break up. It was a good move). 

Toomes cursed and staggered as the new wight threw him off. Tate tightened his legs, hanging on like a limpit as the man tried to throw him off. With one hand he gripped the man's hair and with the other he drove in a series of punches down onto Toome's face. There was a crack as his nose broke and Tate grinned despite the split skin of his fists. The man shouted in pain and threw himself back into the wall hard. Tate gasped as once again the breath was knocked out of him. His legs loosened and the man pulled him off and held him up. The boy dangling from his hold by his shirt. 

Mr Toomes snarled at him, blood on his lips. "You fucking Starks". Tate didn't have time to blink or regain his breath before a punch caught him in the stomach. He cried out, whole body jolting from the blow. Then he was being thrown down onto the ground, head hitting the floor with a sharp impact that made him bite his tongue. A boot planted itself in his chest and pressed down hard enough that he couldn't move. Mr Toomes towering above him, face full of grim fury. "I have had it with fucking children messing up my plans", he pressed down harder and Tate scrabbled at it desperately as his ribs creaked. Feet kicking on the floor and hands clawing at the heavy material of the combat trousers. He couldn't breathe. 

Alarms blared, red lights flashing on the walls. Ears popping as the air pressure suddenly changed. Mr Toomes looked up in surprise, boot moving off of Tate as he turned and stormed up to the cockpit. As soon as the pressure was gone, Tate coughed and reflexively curled up as he tried to get some air into his lungs. From the cockpit came a loud yell of frustration. "Its your buddy Spiderman", The man seethed as he returned. "I've got to go and squash a bug. Don't go anywhere". Then he was gone and the air pressure returned to normal. 

Tate groaned in pain as he pushed himself to his feet. He didn't see where the Vulture went but he must have gone out the same way he came in for he wasn't in the cargo hold anymore. He wrapped an arm around his throbbing stomach as he scrambled as quickly as he could towards the cockpit. It wasn't that fast. His chest was on fire and breathing hurt. Just as he was reaching the door the whole plane shuddered and knocked him off his feet. He tumbled across the floor, knocking elbows and knees into the walls as the structure shook. 

He managed to grasp the pilot's chair and pull himself up into the seat. His phone was gone from the console, thrown during the shaking, but the device Toomes plugged in was still there. Tate hurriedly unplugged it and threw it again the wall. The machine shattering into bits at the impact. The red radio light blinked on. Tate nearly cried with relief as he pressed the comm button. "Happy! Happy! The plane is being attacked!" 

Another shudder that almost had him spilling out of the seat. He grabbed the arm rests as lights began flashing. They had lost engine three. A diagram of the plane was flashing on one of the screens. Damage to the roof and air seals. Engine three was missing entirely. Engine five was in trouble. Reflector panels breaking. The whole plane was loosing altitude. Tate swore under his breath and quickly began flicking buttons. Turning off the reflector panels and the autopilot as his other hand gripped the control stick. He grit his teeth just as the plane exited the bank of clouds and the sky became visible. He cursed. They were still over New York and headed straight for the city. They were going to crash. 

The plane shook again as the roof of the cargo hold caved in. Sharp metallic wings tearing through the steel. Tate cried out as he felt the vacuum tug on him. He gripped the controls stick so hard that his knuckles turned white. They were going down. "Its going to be a crash landing", he muttered to himself as he steered the plane sharply to the left and away from the buildings. Teeth biting his lip as he fought to stay in his seat. The whole plane dropping.

Everything else was a blur after that. He caught a glimpse of cony island and the beach rushing up to meet them. One wing caught on something and broke off. Then the nose was hitting a building. The impact throwing him into the console as the plane shuddered. The back breaking off and the cargo spilling out as fire licked the metal. Glass shattered and Tate hit his head on something hard. He felt sharp, burning pain then blackness over took him. 

unedited

getting close to the end now guys. poor Tate. boi always getting injured.