Peter knew he'd screwed up when Mr Stark took his suit.

He knew he'd really screwed it over when he continued to chase after the Vulture, even though Mr Stark told him to stop.

Especially, when Peter got cocky and ended up crushing a good majority of his ribs under some 70 tone concrete building.

Honestly, looking back on it, Peter knew he should have stopped, should have called for help. Sure, Ned grabbed Happy, but from the sounds of things, Happy ignored the call... leaving Peter thoroughly on his own.

That's why, when he was desperately trying to stop Mr Stark's jet from killing hundreds of people, Peter really debated just ending things there and then. Save the people, and let the Avengers deal with Toomes.

But that was a stupid, childish, part of him. He was Spider-Man, and Toomes was his.

Thinking fast, Peter shot a web onto one of the plane's turning flaps. He yanked and pulled. "Please turn, please turn!" He screamed. His muscles screamed in pain. For a minute, Peter was worried that the plane wouldn't turn... and then it did. Just barely, and took out the red tower as it moved, but it avoided all the people. As it hit the red tower, a shudder ran through the metalwork.

Peter felt it seconds before it happened: the plan split in two. It crashed into the ground, splitting into more pieces, fire ripping through the fuel tank and onto the metal. At some point, Peter was thrown from the plane. He bounced along the sand, the sheer momentum from the fall pushing him through the dense terrain. His vision went black, and his ears rang.

When he came to, Peter found himself staring at the black sky. Ordinarily, that would have been a nice sight. However, the dull pounding in his ribs told him otherwise. He forced himself to sit up, panting and grunting as his ribs tried to heal wrongly. His mask was only causing him breathing issues at this point, and Toomes already knew who he was. So Peter ripped the fabric off, falling down on his back again. After forcing the pain away (he'd been shot before, he could do this), Peter managed to get onto his feet in a daze. He looked around at the fires that surrounded him.

Then suddenly, The Vulture, in a severely damaged wingsuit, flew out of nowhere and slammed into him with enough force to send Peter back a good few feet. Distantly, among the sharp ringing in his ears, he heard something make a tremendous noise. With newfound strength, Peter grit his teeth as he stood. He looked over to where the sound happened mere moments ago. It was Toomes.

Toomes angrily used his damaged wings to throw debris off of him, then turned his gaze to where Peter stood and in a mocking tone called out, "Hey, Pedro." Before extending his wings into an attack position.

Toomes charged at full speed and Peter charged as well before ducking under The Vulture's attack at the last second. One of the wings hit a crate stuck in the sand causing Toomes to spin. Peter spun around and shot a web at Toomes but missed, taking advantage of Peter being off-balance Toomes landed on Peter's chest and dug his talons into Peter's shoulder, causing him to yell out in pain.

Toomes punched with his metal fist. He hit Peter's face a few times, and he could feel his nose breaking. Peter finally worked up the strength to grab Toomes' wrist, causing the Vulture suit to spark and fly upwards. Toomes tried kicking Peter off, but he held strong. Peter ripped the talons out of his body and fell towards the ground. On pure reflex, he shot out a web that connected to Toomes suit before he hit the ground and landed a hard uppercut with his feet. Peter flew over Toomes with the force of the blow and grabbed his suit as he fell down again causing it to spin out of control and knock away all of the boxes surrounding the two until Peter lost his grip and was sent flying into the sand again.

His ribs throbbed painfully, having been re-broken. At this point, someone must have seen the mess that was once a multi-million dollar plane. Happy must have seen the aircraft go down... right? Peter thought about calling Mr Stark, but realised, even if he had his phone, it'd be long broken. Too broken to make a call.

He just hoped that Ned was still trying to get hold of Happy.

Something shot across Peter's neck, like a sharp tingle, screaming at him to MOVE.

Peter tried. He really did... he tried to stand, but couldn't. Not in enough time. He tried to get up but Toomes was faster. He landed on Peter's back and lifted him up before throwing him back into the ground a few times. Peter's vision was rapidly fading, and if someone didn't come to help soon...

His blurred vision gave him the small mercy of seeing Toomes's cold, green-eyed glare. Peter felt Toomes price his hoodie and his body be lifted, but other than that... nothing else registered to his broken and battered form.

Then he was dropped.

Peter landed in the sand in a heap, his ribs and spine protesting violently. Peter coughed quietly, trying to expand his lungs. No doubt they were bruised to hell, and the shards of his ribs probably pressing into them... but he still had a job to do. Peter sat up slowly and looked up from the ground. Toomes had flown over to a few crates and was attempting to lift a few. Still? After he'd nearly died!? Gotta admit he was committed.

Peter then saw that a terrifying amount of sparks were coming off of Toomes' suit, though he didn't appear to notice or care.

Peter's eyes widened in horror as he realized what was about to happen. Something was whinging in his ear, and a gut feeling told him it wasn't his possibly burst eardrums.

"Your wingsuit," He said to himself in realisation. "Your wingsuit's gonna explode!" Peter screamed up at him. Toomes didn't hear him and instead kept trying to get himself and the crate off the ground. Peter forced his arm to the position in order to shoot a web, even though his body was violently protesting the motion. He shot out a web that attached to the end of the crate and let out a yell as the web yanked on his bleeding shoulder. Toomes turned around and with a sadistic grin and called out, "Time to go home, Pete."

Peter gave Toomes a pleading look and gave one last effort to get through to him. "I'm trying to save you!" He screamed. Toomes used his wing to cut through the web line. Peter shot onto his ass, the momentum from the web leaving. He turned to fly away again and Peter tried to fire another web but he was out of fluid. He looked at his wrist in desperation before the Vulture suit gave out. Peter let out a cry of panic before covering his head at the last second as Toomes and the Arc Reactors fell to the ground in a fiery explosion.

Peter looked up from the ground, an expression of dread and horror on his face as he took in the flames that Toomes fell into. "No," He whispered. He knew what it was like to have a parent die, and he'd be damned if Liz had to go through it. "NO!" He yelled getting right back up and charging headfirst into the flames. He winced as the heat burnt any exposed skin, but then spotted the wing of the Vulture suit. He ran over to it and tried to lift it but yelled and flinched back as his hand touched the hot metal. He let out a growl and dug his hands into the sand under the metal and through it away. He looked down on the man beneath it. Peter tossed the metal over and grabbed the man that nearly killed him. He had no other choice but to carry him in a fireman's carry to relative safety. His body wouldn't tolerate Peter dragging, neither did Peter have the strength to.

Safely away from the fire, Peter dropped Toomes on the ground. His own body flagged, and Peter found himself breathing raggedly next to the man that actively tried to kill him... multiple times. Distantly, Peter could hear sirens (although, to be fair, it was an even draw of his burst eardrums of 911 responders)

He knew he'd have to leave, otherwise, the police would drag him in for questioning, and that was the last thing Peter needed/wanted. He had plans to go home and collapse in his bed for a week.

A small part of him hurt deeply, aside from the physical and emotional exhaustion he'd endured.

He'd reached out for help... and nobody came.