"The day has been saved by our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, yet again, when he stopped a band of men from blowing up a building by Avengers Tower.  There were no casualties thanks to our spider friend.  We send our thanks to Spider-Man, whoever he might-"

"Let me get this straight," A tall, buff man said in his monotone voice. He wore a suave suit, obviously the boss of the group that was sat around the desk in that dark room. "The men that I've sent to get intel on the Avengers and on Tony and Steve Rogers-Stark - the trained agents I've sent - are all being stopped by a teenage boy?!"

The room was silent until a stout man on the other end of the round table spoke up.  "Actually sir, he's also part spider, so-"

"Oh shut up, will ya?"  The man beside him said in a hushed voice.  "You're not helping."

The boss rested a hand on his chin.  "My resources must be wrong.  He can't be a teenager.  With how easily he defeats my soldiers, he must have had years of training..."

"I can assure you, young man, that I do not lie."  A man emerged from the shadows of the dark room.  He was an older man.  His salt and pepper hair was a mess and his clothes absolutely wretched.  "He's a teenager."

"Then how?"  The boss asked, throwing his arms in the air, causing the men around the table to shrink back.

"Did I not mention his parentage?"  The older man said in a taunting voice, a think Russian accent coating his speech. 

The boss clenched his fist and said through gritted teeth, "No.  You never seemed to have brought that up."

"Ah, silly me.  They do say the memory is the first to go..." He slid into a chair and looked up at the boss, a cunning look on his face.  "If you happened to have something that might jog my memory..."

The boss looked over at one of the soldiers in the corner and gave a quick nod.  The soldier returned the nod and hurried off.

There was an long silence as they waited for the soldier to come back.  The men at the table looked amongst themselves, sharing shrugs and worried looks.

Soon, the soldier came back and in his arms, he held a case.  He gave it to the old man who, upon receiving it, stood up, setting it on the table.  He slid his fingers along the case until he stopped them on a button.  He pressed it, and the case opened.

Inside, there lay a syringe.  Alongside the syringe, there were three vials filled with a clear liquid.  The older man nodded and closed the case slowly.

"Alright," He said slowly.  "His parents died when he was four, and his aunt and uncle took him in until he was seven, when they died in a tragic... car accident."

"He was then adopted not long after by Steve Rogers and Tony Stark and has been raised by them ever since."

The boss's mouth was agape.  His mouth then spread into a smile.  "Oh, this is great.  This is the key to the whole thing.  We just need to get to him, then we have our way to Anthony and Steven."

He turned to the soldier who had grabbed the case.  "Get him ready.  And the project as well while you're at it."  The soldier quickly nodded and ran off.

He looked back over at the older man.  "More information on this Peter Rogers-Stark and more serum is yours."

The old man wore a cold, wicked smile and sat back in his chair, all the light from the room seeming to be sucked away by him.

"Ask away."