Should I have done it?

She probably would've punched him in the face.

But should I have done it?

If he had a death wish, then yes.

No, but should-?

Peter's brain was in full-tilt battle. The noise rushing through it drowning everything else out, so he could barely focus on putting two feet in front of the other. To say he was conflicted would be an understatement. To be or not to be. To kiss or not to kiss. To love or not to love.

Not to love.

Don't go there.

Don't go there again. Don't do that to yourself. Not again.

He'd loved Liz. Or, at least, he'd thought it was love. But her dad ended up being the thing in Peter's worst nightmares. Her dad ended up being the last thing Peter sees before the weight of a building crushes him to the ground. Her dad ended up being the man who tortured and killed Peter.

And so, his heart was broken. Because he knew he couldn't be with Liz, he couldn't love her.

He'd also loved his parents. Well, they were away a lot, but they sure have been gone for a while now. And he misses them so much it hurts, so he knows he loved them. He sees everyone at school with their moms and their dads and it takes everything he has not to fall to the ground screaming. When he sees Ned hug his dad goodbye before he goes to work when Peter sleeps at his house, he runs to the bathroom and spends a good ten minutes trying not to fall into a panic attack.

How can a child go without a mother's love? Don't get him wrong, May is the closest thing to a mother he'll ever find, and Peter loves her over everything else in his life. He is her baby. But there's something about a mother. Some bond that is so strong and unconditional. A rock, a home A shelter for two to be safe. The unfathomable love that a mother has, that's so tender and willing, is something Peter could never feel, again. Because the only way that bond can be broken is through death.

And his parents are dead.

And Uncle Ben is dead.

Peter killed Ben.

Peter wasn't going to think about that now, though.

And so, it's not worth it. It's not worth it to take a chance and love, or at least like, because there's only pain.

He loved May. Peter only waited until she was gone. Peter could only wait until she leaves him too.

Peter loved Tony. But did Tony love Peter? That hurt.

Peter didn't want to love MJ. And MJ didn't want to love Peter. And that's how it's going to stay. What a twisted, cruel world they must live in, for that to be the way to live.

And the fact that there was no loving in this world became even more clear, as Peter stepped over the threshold of his apartment door.

The breath was knocked from his chest, a gasp hitching in his throat. He knees buckled, but he managed to stay standing, despite the throbs of confusion and dizziness coursed through his body.

A dozen guns were trained on him, attached to a dozen men in thick, black uniforms. There was a red beam, pointed straight at his forehead and someone was yelling in the back of Peter's head, in a warning, angry voice. But he couldn't hear them.

He was staring at May.

She was being held between two of the men – the only two not pointing their pistols at Peter – wrists cuffed and blood dribbling down her forehead from a small cut. Her eyes were pleading at Peter to run and hide; he could tell. But the way her body was sagging slightly under the men's grip told him to stay.

He wouldn't leave her anyway. Because he loves her.

And this is exactly why love was dangerous.

"May-?"

"Hands up!" A gruff voice yelled, but Peter wasn't sure which of the men it came from. He was still blinking slowly, his brain trying to process what the actual hell was happening right now.

"I said hands in the air!" The same voice growled. Peter shook his head, ignoring the dull pain in the back of his head that was telling him to get very far away from him.

"No, you said hands up. Never said anything about hands in the air." Peter replied shortly, cursing himself profoundly in his head. Idiot, idiot, idiot, you just back-chatted a dozen men with guns pointed at your fricking forehead, you idiot-

He was expecting a rain shower of bullets, but instead got a small chuckle from behind the line of men. Peter's head snapped to the source of the noise, confused and – as much as he hated to admit it – a little bubble of fragile hope rose inside of him. Was it Tony-?

"You do have quite the sense of humour, Mister Parker."

Peter's body tensed. Every ounce of his energy was being put into staying completely still and not running away and not leaping at that damned, malicious voice.

Two of the men parted and Ross stepped through, arms spread wide and a toothy grin on his old face. Peter let a small growl emit from deep in his throat, hands shaking with fury. He clenched his hands into fists, willing himself to hold it together.

"What do you want?" Peter spat, keeping his words short and clipped, just in case he started screaming. That could get May killed. Or him.

"You." Was all Ross said, his tone simple.

Now, out of context, that would've sounded very strange to Peter. Paedophilia was one of the words that crossed his mind. But Peter knew better. He knew what Ross meant. And he blanched, suddenly feeling sick to the stomach. Maybe he should run-

But May-

"Don't touch her." Peter warned, glaring so intensely at the men gripping tightly onto May's arms that his own head began to hurt.

Ross let out soft laughter. Again. "Oh, she won't get hurt."

Peter unwillingly let a little bit relief flow through him, but the mistrust was still much to overbearing.

"Unless you...misbehave." Ross continued, and of course there's more. There's always more. Peter's lower lip trembled with white hot fury. He could barely control it. Surely he would go insane if he tried to keep all this fire he had inside. Surely he would explode.

"Why?" Peter whispered. He had to whisper, because he couldn't show how much his voice would waver if he talked. "Why do you want me?" He knew the answer. But he had to distract Ross from looking at his hand that was slowly creeping to his pocket, where his phone was stuffed.

"Well, I hear you're quite the, uh, what would you call it? Mutant?" Ross said, and Peter's face turned ashen.

Peter had run into Ross on the street. Ross had told him to stay safe, because of all the mutants around. Ross had looked at Peter's backpack. Peter had zipped up his backpack at the station.

He'd had his suit in the backpack.

Oh crap.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Peter said quietly. He swivelled his eyes to where May stood, knees weak. She was still staring wide-eyed at Peter, but there was less light in her eyes. She has a concussion, Peter realised. He shot her a small, not convincing smile. She gave a soft nod, but her expression didn't change.

He could feel the screen of his phone under his fingers. He clicked the home screen – or what he thought was the home screen – trying to be as discreet as possible. But now there was a faint light shining through the thin material of his pants. His heart was thumping wildly.

"Oh, I think you do." Ross' voice was sickeningly sweet. But, as Peter knew they would, Ross' eyes drifted to where Peter's hand was stuffed in his pocket. Peter sighed, closing his eyes for a few moments.

Of course it wouldn't work.

"Alright, not cooperating." Ross said in a tried voice, shaking his head slightly at Peter. Then, turning to his henchmen;

"Shoot."

Peter panicked. But these days, his panic left him paralysed. There was a click as the safety of one of the guns were turned off, then another as the bullet was pushed into the chamber, then a CRACK as the bullet left the chamber-

And it wasn't like what you see in the movies. Peter didn't look on at the situation as if it was in slow-motion. No, from Ross' command to the blinding pain tearing through his body, was a mere second. He had no chance to move but thinking about it now...that was probably a good thing.

Because, torrents of firetruck-red blood was spilling from his upper arm. If he'd moved, the bullet might've hit something much more important.

But it was the arm that was connected to the hand that was trying to dial Tony Stark on his phone in his pocket. But now that hand was jerking out of the pocket, as a scream tore up his throat. Someone else was screaming, but the blood rushing through his head drowned most out. He stumbled back a few paces, eyes glued to the sticky hole just above his elbow. It hurt. It hurt a lot.

Everything around him turned into a blur, nothing else mattered, apart from the excruciating pain circulating round and round his body. He blinked groggily. The blood...the blood was bright.

Bright meant...it meant oxygenated, right? And oxygenated meant...artery? Which means lots and lots and lots of blood.

Gone.

Peter pulled in a shaky breath. He didn't know if he was standing or falling or dying, nothing was making sense. There was nothing but pain and a crap-tonne of blood loss.

"...eter? Peter!" Someone was yelling his name. "Let me go! Peter! Don't touch him!" Someone was screaming his name.

Calloused hands were closing around his forearm, just below his bullet wound and he was crying out with the pain of it again. He tried to wrench himself from the grasp, but his attempts were weak and frail and useless. He fluttered his eyes again, trying to regain focus.

"PETER!" May cried out, and Peter's eyes snapped to hers, really seeing her as sweat poured down his forehead. Her face was shocked, worry written in every line. He winced as the grip tightened on his arm. His shut his open mouth with a snap, gulping down a sob. He wasn't about to cry.

"I told you no one would get hurt if you behaved." Ross snarled, tugging Peter harshly by his injured arm to make the boy look at him. Peter bit down his quip of "no, you really didn't".

"Please, sir, don't hurt him." May begged from where she was being held. Ross' face hardened, but he didn't reply. "Please, let me help him. I'm a nurse, he needs to see a nurse. Please-!"

"Shut up." Ross warned, voice calm.

"No, please, just let me put a bandage over it. It's hit an artery, he'll die if you don't-!"

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP! Or I'll put the next bullet through his head, see if he walks away from that!" Ross roared, spitting at Peter's feet. May faltered, terrified. Peter froze, also terrified.

"You're mad." He whispered. Well, he hadn't intended to say it out loud, it just slipped. Ross' furious gaze was on him again.

"I'm not mad. I'm futuristic." Ross growled into Peter's ear. Yeah, nah, he's mad. "I see an army of super-soldiers, lead by you, conquering every enemy that stand in their way. Your genetics could be the key to...world domination!"

"So, basically, you want a bunch of little me's running around, killing people? You know, Mr Stark's always said that one is enough—"

Ross slapped Peter hard across the face. The sting ran down his neck, making his body tingle. He scrunched up his eyes for a moment but forced himself not to make a noise. He heard May gasp.

Maybe it wasn't the right time for sarcasm. When is it ever? Always, says Mr Stark's voice in Peter's head. Okay, he had to focus.

"I won't. You'd be crazy if you thought I'd agree." Peter reasoned, attempting to pull out of Ross' grasp but only being spasmed with pain from the bullet. Of which was still stuck in there – there was no exit wound. If his body healed around the bullet...he didn't want to think about the consequences. Sometimes healing sucked.

"Oh, no. I knew you wouldn't agree." Ross went back to his wide, bright but very fake smile. "But that doesn't mean you won't do it."

Peter shivered slightly, although he had no clue as to why. "What do you mean? I'm stronger than you, you can't force me."

"I have my ways. It's worked before, it'll work again." Ross argued, arms releasing Peter, who nearly fell to the floor without the support.

But the teen saw his chance and took it.

He swung an arm out, connecting with Ross' temple. The man slumped immediately to the floor. Peter leaned over a for a second, breathing heavily against the pain. It was silent.

But then the shouts were echoing off the roof. The dozen or so men advancing on Peter all at once, all yelling orders at both Peter and each other.

Peter leapt into the air, as the first agent reached him. He foot cracked against the man's chin, making him stumble backward in his surprise. Peter landed, punching the guy in the stomach, and he fell next to Ross, too. Peter spun around, wildly, pin-pointing the closest men.

One of the agents took a swing at Peter with his gun, but Peter ducked, adrenaline and his spidey-senses being his only help. From the floor, Peter swung up a leg, kicking the gunman right where it hurt. The man wheezed and dropped to his knees.

Arms were reaching around Peter's chest from behind him, as an agent approached from the front. A fist landed on Peter's cheekbone, making his head snap to the side. But the man only got one good lick in before Peter was leaning back against the men holding him from behind, using him as a platform, to shove out his legs and hit the agent's chest, square on. He dropped, too.

Elbowing the dude who was holding him in the face, Peter spun in the slackening grip and threw the man across the room. He hit the wall, making it dent, then slowly crack. He could see May out the corner of his eyes, struggling against (now only one man) her hold. He had to reach her, to make sure nothing would happen.

"Peter!" May cried out in warning, and Peter threw himself to the floor just in time, as a bullet whizzed over him – right where his head had been. He blew out a quick breath of relief.

"No! Don't shoot," Someone yelled in anger, "boss needs him alive."

That same someone reached down to haul Peter from the floor, but Peter hit the back of the man's legs with his injured arm (pain, pain, pain) knocking his legs out from under him. The man hit the floor face-first, nose cracking against the boards.

He leapt to his feet, then, his arm flopping uselessly to his side as a wave of dizziness hit him. He blinked it away frantically, trying to drop to his knees. Someone yanked on his hair from behind, causing him to fall back to the floor. Two feet stood next to him, so he yanked one to see what would happen. Well, another man down. Falling right on top of him to be precise. God, he was heavy. He shoved the dead weight off of him, scrambling to his feet, doing a quick head count.

Five more to go. He could do this. He could-

(His arm was telling him otherwise.)

But all of them were back away, guns raising back to their normal position – pointed at Peter. He stumbled around in circles for a moment, confused, but-

Everything turned white. Like someone had turned on a light and shone it right in his eyes and for a moment, that was all it was-

Then the worst pain Peter had ever felt ripped through his whole body and the world disappeared and he was surely dying, as he vaguely felt his head smack against the floor. The agony was like no other, but he could feel it in the split-second it was there. He could feel it in his very veins, starting from his arms and spreading like wildfire through the rest of his body, blinding him.

But then it was gone and he could see again and May was sobbing and he was lying on the floor, breathing heavily like he'd just ran a marathon. Ross was standing over him, his face half-way between a grimace and a smirk, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead.

"That hurt, didn't it?" The man asked, as if speaking to a small child.

Peter didn't reply, just squinted up at the man, as he squatted down next to Peter, hands rested lazily on his knees. He was handling a small, black device with a flashing red button.

"This is a rather new invention, made by Stark, of course." Ross said, looking pointedly at Peter, who felt like his heart was breaking – he hoped his mentor wouldn't blame himself for whatever was about to happen to him.

"That bullet we shot you with? That's no ordinary bullet. It's an electromagnet, impossible to remove without surgery, that is designed to...sit in your artery," Ross continued quietly, looking at the device with a fascinated glint in his eyes, "and when I press this button—"

He did just that, and Peter was writhing on the floor as another shock jolted through his body, not as long-lasting as the other but just as painful. He chest burned.

"—it sends a wave of electricity through your arteries, causing the lungs to seize and the heart to stop. Of course, it's only temporary. A few seconds of discomfort then it's gone as fast as it comes. But it saps the energy out of you quite well."

Peter only realised just how empty he felt after Ross said that. He had nothing in him anymore, he might've well been dead. All he could do was gulp as he slanted his eyes to Ross.

"Although, this device is only used for an enhanced individual like you. If it were to be used on a normal human like me, they would die in a millisecond." Ross stated.

Peter was confused – why would Mr Stark be making weapons again? And why would he be making weapons for enhanced beings? He wasn't sure if he wanted to know thee answer, but he couldn't think about that right now.

"So, unless you want another shock, you will come with us. And quietly." Ross threatened, bending down so he was talking right into Peter's ear. Peter felt dread in his stomach.

"That won't stop me." Peter growled, realising how raw and raspy his voice was.

"Okay, then," Ross stood up, speaking loudly again, "we'll just kill your aunt."

"Okay, okay, okay." Peter uttered, scrambling to his feet shakily, using way too much energy than it should've taken. "Take me. Take me, I'll come."

"And you will be good." Ross snarled, as Peter's hands were forced behind his back harshly, fricking vibranium cuffs closing tightly around his wrists. Where did they get a hand on these resources?

"Answer me!" Ross demanded, face red with anger. Peter looked at his feet and fright. Is it normal to feel ashamed?

"Yes." Peter nodded, speaking quietly enough so May wouldn't hear. He didn't want her to hear. She would think he was giving up.

(Was he?)

But he couldn't let her get hurt. He wasn't going to risk that. Because he loves her, and this is what he does for love.

Ross slapped Peter again. Hard. "Say 'I will be good, sir'." The man snarled coolly. Peter felt tears prick his eyes as he saw May sobbing even harder. He wasn't going to give in to this. He couldn't. He wouldn't. "Say it!" Ross yelled.

Someone held a gun to his aunt's head. And with a resolve filling his stomach, making it twist with shame and fear, he looked down at his feet, tears dripping off his nose.

"I will be good, sir." He croaked, voice cracking.

"Good."

Two men were grabbing his arms, leading him to the door.

"No! No, Peter, stop! PLEASE!" May was screaming, causing Peter's heart to break even more. He cast one more look at her, eyes saying everything he couldn't. I love you, I'm sorry, call Mr Stark, get help, stay safe, don't worry, I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine-

"NO! NO!"

And Peter was shoved out the door, down an empty elevator, out the empty lobby, into the empty carpark, and forced into the back of a black van.

If he'd been concentrating, he might've been able to see the small emblem on the man's shirt, as he was shoving him into the cell-like van. He should've been concentrating. Maybe if he had been, it might've ignited his need to get away. It may've made him run, no matter what. Maybe he wouldn't have given up so easily.

But he hadn't seen the small skull, with tentacles, emblazed on the agent's uniform.

He didn't know he'd fallen right into Hydra's claws. 

--

SO this was quite a long one for ya ;)

lemme know what you think -- there be some more action now! and whump (how terrible). THANKS FOR ALL OF YOUR BEAUTIFUL COMMENTS, YOU ALL MAKE ME SO HAPPY <3 <3

I hope you all have a lovely day, if you have any questions, just let me know! Or suggestions/feedback. i love hearing from you.

bye for nowwwww

LuvForStydia xx