Weapon X was his name.

Yes, that's what they told him.

That's what he believed.

Something's Happening.

Mind destructing, Agony Inside of Me.

My Pulse Is Racing

Mental Torture, Self-Destroyer.

Can't Ignore the Paranoia.

And the world would learn to believe it.

He was a weapon of destruction. He would torture, he would murder, he would maim. His Commander told him that.

And those same words. Brainwashing, mind-numbing, words; repeat, repeat, repeat. A sentence without an end. A book without a finish.

But it was okay.

It helped him forget. Forget whatever was holding him back from his destiny. Forget what it was to think and to feel and to see what truly lay behind the words. What truly lay behind this façade of who he was.

He wanted to forget. It was easier.

Something's Happening—

And it began again.

Weapon X's life seemed slow. It was a daily cycle of The Chair, The Cell, The Arena, The Cell. Every day was the same. So much the same that he didn't know how many days had passed in his life.

He was sixteen. That's also something his commander told him. He was sixteen, and he had powers. He could stick to walls, lift buses, hear the faintest whisper from miles away.

"You're a mutant." His Commander told him. Weapon X wasn't sure he liked that term too much, but he would not argue with the Commander.

He would obey.

Mind Destructing, Agony Inside of Me—

The pain had become welcome. Every time his Commander would bring him from his cell to The Chair, he would feel agony inside of him. Mind destructing agony, inside of him. But it helped him forget.

Helped him forget To—

And in The Arena, he would train. He would learn how to fight and how to kill. But he'd never killed before. The thought terrif—

Intrigued him. The thought intrigued him.

Then he'd go back to The Cell. He would be chained to the walls, like a rabid dog. Like an animal.

Like a mutant.

But he didn't care, as long as he fulfilled his duty.

But something was changing.

Something's Happening—

The words in his head were changing. His Commander put new words there. His first mission, perhaps?

Words reminding him what his mission had done to him. Reminding him of his reason to kill and to maim. They encouraged him to be the terrorist he was supposed to.

And this was how they went:

He lied to me

He shot at me

He hates on me

He's using me

Who 'he' was? Weapon X did not know yet. But he knew that he hated whoever it was.

Fragility

Electricity

He wanted to murder whoever it was. He didn't want to kill whoever the words were talking about. He didn't just want to be the cause of death. He wanted to be the death. He wanted whoever it was to look at him and know that the flash of his blade will be the last thing he sees. Weapon X wanted to be able to plan it.

Whoever this was? He wasn't going to be just another casualty of war. He will be Weapon X's mission.

Afraid of me

He's dead to me

And these last words? They were his favourite.

Now he is my enemy.

...

Adrian Toomes had done some pretty dumbass things in his life.

He'd gone and landed himself in prison, despite his attempts at just trying to keep his family safe. Try protecting them in jail, for Christ's sake. He wasn't proud of himself; not one tiny little bit.

Even now, that he was out of jail, he knew that his wife and daughter would never want to know him again, and it hurt like hell.

It had taken a long time, but he began to realise just how much of an idiot he really was. How selfish. How cruel and how twisted. He'd tortured and killed a fifteen-year-old kid. Never mind the fact that Peter had been one of Liz's good friends. He'd done that to a child, and then he'd had the audacity to try it again.

Despite his regret, Adrian knew he wasn't one of those baddie-turned-good people. He knew he was a baddie, and he knew he'd have to live with that. He wasn't gonna go all saint on himself now, but he sure as hell knew he wasn't going to hurt anyone again.

Yeah, he'll continue his alien-weapons production, if he could. But he'd never, ever use a weapon on someone again. He'd told himself that, like a new-year's resolution, just not on the first of January.

He missed his girls. That was for sure, but he was on the run now. He wouldn't see them again, he knew that, but he wished every night that he'd been able to say a proper goodbye. He'd hoped he'd been able to tell them that he regretted everything he did.

He'd hoped they'd understand. But he'd missed his opportunity, and he was afraid he'd never get another one.

He loved them, but he left them.

After his dealing with Ross, Adrian had scattered. He'd taken to the streets in search of some creepy, old abandoned warehouse, like super-villains normally have. He'd found one just on the outskirts of Brooklyn, on a pretty abandoned-looking street. Put up extra defences – he'd even gotten his hands on some vibranium to seal the windows and doors.

Everything was pretty impossible to infiltrate. Vibranium was the strongest metal in the world, and SHIELD had decided to use it on a frisbee for their show-horse. Now, that vibranium shield was hung in the world's most famous museum, because Captain Americ-ass had retired from being a superhero or some crap.

But he knew he'd make good use of the vibranium he had. He would make American boomerangs. No, he could build weapons for the army. He could create indestructible suits. He could truly be the world's most dangerous villain.

But he didn't want to. He wanted to be the good guy for once in his life. And not because he went to some Church and confessed his sins, but because he still had morals.

A villain with morals, huh? That's new.

But, as he said earlier, vibranium was the strongest metal on Earth.

He'd bordered the whole warehouse in it.

Which was why he was ever-so-slightly confused when he heard footsteps echoing through the warehouse, from his make-shift bedroom.

Maybe he'd locked himself up with someone or something. That was the only logical explanation as to why something had gotten inside an impenetrable, abandoned factory.

He lay on his bed, not moving, barely breathing.

The footsteps were getting closer. They weren't hushed, but they were perfected noisily, like the owner wanted Toomes to feel afraid, before—

Before what?

And in his silence, the door into what once was the control room opened. It was too dark to see anything, and the figure was most certainly wearing dark clothes, to add to the vibe.

Then there was a metallic, scraping sound, like an unsheathing sword.

A gust of wind as the figure flew toward him.

And the Vulture didn't have time to think before there was a flash of red and black, then a sword was being driven through his middle, pinning him to the bed.

There was no pain.

There was only mercy.

He thought of Liz, he thought of Val. He missed them.

He thought of all the stupid things he'd done, and he thought of all the alright things he'd done.

When they said your life flashed before your eyes when you die? They weren't wrong.

He smiled when the faces of his family popped up into his mind.

But, strangely, his last thought was of Peter Parker.

And his next breath was his last.

Later, little would he know, Liz Allen would tell her friends how much she loved her father.

Maybe he'd have been at peace, knowing he hadn't died as the Vulture.

Maybe he'd have been happy, knowing he died as Adrian Toomes.

Forgiven.

...

Today, he'd had his first kill.

Weapon X had revelled in the feeling of stabbing one of his enemies right through.

But there'd been no pain in his features.

And Weapon X wanted more. He wanted to feel the pain that his victims felt.

He wanted to murder.

"You ready for your next mission?" His Commander asked him.

You ready for your next mission?

You ready—

There was something nagging at his mind. He couldn't quite...couldn't quite grasp what it was...

You ready for your next mission?

He...remembered something. Someone he l-loved said that. Months and months ago. Before—

Before—

Two words struggled and pushed and dug their way into his head. Words that hadn't been put there by his Commander.

New words.

Words that sounded odd in his head, illegal, wrong.

But oh so familiar at the same time

And it filled him with a weird sensation, like there was something inside of him, trying to eat him from the inside out. And like something heavy and dark was pressing down on his brain, ingraining those two words there.

Infinity War.

"Infinity War?" Weapon X asked.

His Commander stared for a moment, face unreadable.

Then his head was being attached to The Chair.

He squirmed, but he knew what was coming.

There was a click.

Then Weapon X was screaming.

But Infinity War lingered on his mind.

--

Guess what? Y'all are finally gonna find out what REALLY happened during this fic's version of Infinity War! Yay (or nay, technically, because I've made it pretty sad). But that's in the next chapter.

You'll find out why Peter kept thinking all those random things about Tony killing him and all that, in case you wondered why he thought that. 

Anyway, this is short and depressing, but Adrian Toomes is officially dead.

Happy or no?

I mean, he did torture and kill our Lil Pete, but I always found a way to sympathize with his situation, so I found it pretty difficult to write. I dunno, that's just me.

Anyway, hope you didn't enjoy :) ly all

LuvForStydia xx

(P.S. any questions/suggestions/most importantly questions, please ask me, because I feel like I've incorporated quite a bit into this fic, so it might be hard to keep track of whass poppin. But books that always tie back to previous events - in my opinion - are always the coolest, so ya)