Chapter Text
Shit, shit, shit!
Peter fucked up.
He hadn't been a hero for very long, not even a full week yet, so it was expected for him to be pretty unprepared. Like right now, when he'd forgotten to turn off the automatic flash on his cellphone before taking a picture of the bad guys.
So the flash went off in the very dark subway service tunnel. While most people don't look up, they will when they see a bright flash of light coming from the ceiling.
Peter made a quiet, but startled noise when the bad guys looked up right at him. So he turned tail and scurried away as fast as he could. He stayed on the ceiling until he got around the corner; wall crawling was good for stealth, not so much for speed. He dropped down next to Daredevil, shouted, “we gotta go!”, and started running towards the exit.
Daredevil didn't wait, he'd heard the whole thing.
They sprinted quickly, but after only a few seconds they heard the whir of Green Goblin’s glider and the villain rounded the corner to make chase. Peter, who was a few strides ahead of Daredevil, stopped and let the other pass him. After a few steps, Daredevil slowed as well.
“What're you doing?!” Daredevil said harshly, but Peter ignored him in favor of fiddling with his webshooters. Green Goblin was rapidly approaching and Daredevil growled like a caged animal out of frustration. But Peter had a plan.
He freed a cartridge of web fluid and threw it down when Green Goblin was only a few yards away. He'd used enough force that, upon contact with the ground, the cartridge exploded.
All the fluid he'd condensed into the small cartridge was released at once and solidified upon contact with the air. Miles of webbing came out in a thick spray that coated Green Goblin, his glider, and the walls.
“Go, go!” Peter urged as he started running again. He knew that it wouldn't last long, Green Goblin would be able to cut through them, but it was still an obstacle that would slow him down. Daredevil stayed close.
Peter threw the heavy service door open like it was nothing and hopped onto the tracks below. Upon landing he felt it, a subtle rumbling of the tracks that signaled an oncoming train. He looked up at Daredevil, who gestured for him to get back on the raised platform. He did and together they pressed their bodies against the door. They had to time this right.
He could see the train's headlights when he felt the first bash against the door. Green Goblin had worked himself free and was trying to get through, but Peter was strong. He kept his feet planted and stuck to the ground as he watched the early morning train pick up speed. When the train was about a foot away from them Daredevil called it. “Now!”
They moved to the side and Green Goblin came careening through the door. He shot out past Peter and Daredevil and right into the path of the train. He didn't even have a second to turn around and look at the pair before the train slammed into him and took him down the tracks.
Peter flinched, for Green Goblin and Daredevil whose mouth was scrunched up in a pained look. The train was loud and the sound had nowhere to go besides bounce around the tunnel.
Suddenly, Peter felt a tingle in the base of his skull and he turned around to see the bald guy–Sivana–standing in the doorway with a pistol aimed at Daredevil.
Then he fired.
With milliseconds to react Peter’s body moved without any input from his brain. He threw himself at Daredevil to push him out of the way and they landed on the gravel below the platform as the final train car passed by. Peter moved quickly as he turned and shot a web at the gun. It landed and he immediately yanked the gun from Sivana’s hand, pulling Sivana out of the doorway a bit as the gun clattered to the gravel below. He grabbed Daredevil and went to stand, but crumpled the second he put weight on his right leg. He looked down and saw that he was pouring blood from a circular wound on his thigh. Holy shit. He'd been shot.
He couldn't worry about that now. They had to go, Sivana was coming and who knew when Green Goblin would be back. Thankfully, Daredevil was recovering as the train got further and further away. The older man was able to stand up on his own while Peter sprayed his leg wound with webbing as a makeshift bandage and stood up, using the wall as support. It still hurt to put his full weight on it, but it felt better with the pressure from the webbing. And even if it hadn't, they needed to go.
But Daredevil didn't move. He sniffed the air for a second before focusing on Peter. “You're bleeding.”
“Huh?” Peter said dumbly. He glanced down at his impromptu bandage. There were already a few pinpricks of red as he started to bleed through it. “Yeah, yeah I know, but I'm fine. Let's go!”
Peter tried to grab for Daredevil, but the older man just stepped out of his reach. “No, I'll deal with baldy. You get yourself help.”
“What? No! I'm not leaving you! You're still hurt!”
“And now you're hurt. So go! Call your idiots and tell them to take you to Claire's.”
“But–”
“Go!” Daredevil left no room for discussion. He turned to Sivana and charged him. Sivana, now gunless and lacking any form of self-defense, ran back through the service door to try and escape.
Peter was frustrated. It didn't feel right to leave Daredevil, but the man was more of a hero than Peter. He'd been a vigilante for years at this point. So, begrudgingly, Peter listened.
He hurried along, back up the tracks the way he entered. Peter kept one hand on the wall, and the other firmly against his leg to try and stem the blood flow. When he made it to the loading platform, Peter used both hands to pull himself up and left a bloody handprint on the bright yellow tactile pavers.
It sure was a sight for the few early morning commuters that were waiting for their train. The costumed kid took off, stumbling out of the subway station like a bat out of hell. At the same time, it was New York before sunup, so it wasn't all too unusual a sight. But, less than a minute later, Green Goblin zoomed out of the tunnels on his sputtering glider.
Peter made it out of the subway, unaware of Green Goblin's rapid approach. He leaned up against a building to catch his breath. He was really starting to feel his gunshot wound now and it hurt .
Green Goblin came flying out of the subway station a second later and quickly spotted the boy. Green Goblin went right for him, and despite his spider sense yelling at him, he stood his ground; it wasn't like he could run very quickly. He didn't act bravely, no, he covered his face with his arms in preparation for the attack.
He wasn't speared by the glider like he expected. Instead, Green Goblin grabbed his left arm and flew up into the New York skyline and towards Harlem fast . Upon realizing that he wasn't getting stabbed, he started struggling in an attempt to free himself. But Green Goblin’s grip was strong, strong in an enhanced way. They rose higher and higher, passing the tops of skyscrapers. Peter's struggle only caused Green Goblin's grip to slip from his forearm to his wrist, where his only stocked webshooter was. The boy became increasingly nervous about their height. He knew he could survive big falls, but this was getting ridiculous.
Then the villain slowed. Peter looked up at him, his own struggle slowing. The air was thin and there was a deep chill in Peter's bones. They were really fucking high up; he didn't know if he wanted to be let go anymore.
Green Goblin sneered down at Peter then pulled the boy's wrist closer to inspect it. “What is this?” Green Goblin said, somehow both inquisitive and patronizing. Yet Peter didn't answer, distracted by how wretched the villain's voice–and smell–was and his own fear of death. He doubted the guy was expecting an answer anyway since he continued to talk, his voice hissing and popping as he spoke. “This is what you sprayed me with,” he started to squeeze Peter’s wrist harder, “a contraption.” Peter could hear the metal and plastic of his webshooter groan under the increasing pressure. Even worse, his wrist really started to hurt and his fingertips lost feeling from lack of blood flow. He started to struggle again, he knew what was going to happen. His webshooters were made from trash! If Green Goblin’s strength was hurting him, then there was no was they could withstand–
CRUNCH!
It happened. It wasn't all that loud a sound, but Peter felt it. He felt it through his bones, but in particular his wrist. Green Goblin crushed his webshooter. Bits of metal and plastic embedded themselves into his wrist, and he watched as blood crawled down his sleeve from under Green Goblin's fist. But even worse, Peter realized as they were showered in a spray of webs from his exploded cartridge, he had no web fluid left. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach.
“Bye, bye,” Green Goblin said and he let Peter go.
For a second, it felt like he was in Looney Toons. Or perhaps he had somehow gained the ability of flight. It felt like he floated there for a brief moment, but no. He couldn't fly. It was tiny strands of webbing holding them together before they snapped.
Peter plummeted back to Earth. His spider sense screamed that he was in danger, like he didn't already know. He watched Green Goblin's form shrink as he fell, the entire time the maniac was laughing.
Peter was scared. More than that, he was terrified. He was falling with no way to catch himself. He hit terminal velocity as the tops of skyscrapers came into view. He was going to die, he knew it. He was going to die because he wanted to play vigilante, because he wanted to stick his nose into something so much bigger than him, because he really was just a little kid.
His body tensed in preparation of the fast approaching ground and he closed his eyes out of fear. He no longer cared about the gunshot wound in his thigh or the shrapnel in his wrist. None of that mattered anymore, not with his imminent death fast approaching. The only peace he felt in that moment was the thought that he'd be with his mom, dad, aunt, and uncle soon enough. The Parker Curse would end with him.
Then his shoulder hit the top corner of a building. There was a sickening pop and Peter's eyes snapped open. He spun wildly from the impact before hitting the side of a different building. He was in an alleyway and ping-ponged between the two buildings helplessly before landing on his back hard . His head hit the ground a millisecond later and the world went black.
Peter regained consciousness a few minutes later, albeit he had know idea how long he was out. When he opened his eyes, he had a few observations: holy shit he was still alive, his vision was doubled, and his shoulder really fucking hurt . He tried to sit up, but he couldn't move his arm. He turned his head to look at it, which caused his vision to swim and his brain to pound against his skull. He noticed the small crater he was laying in–no, the one his body had made upon impact–before his eyes slowly tracked to his bloody wrist. His eyes moved towards his shoulder as much as they could, and even with his limited view he could tell that it was not supposed to look like that.
Peter groaned out of pain, but also frustration. What was he supposed to do now? While Daredevil had told him to go to Claire’s–whoever that was–he was really planning on just going home. That wasn't an option anymore. Now he had no webs, and even if he did he couldn't move his arm. He was alive, which was cool he guessed. A small part of him wished he had just died so he didn't have to feel so shitty. But he shut that down quickly.
After a few minutes of regaining his bearings, he slowly moved his good arm to his pocket. Thank God his right arm was fine or he'd be far more clumsy than his concussed brain could handle. He grabbed his phone and pulled it out. There was a huge crack in the center with several smaller cracks spider-webbing from it. He swallowed thickly, pressed the power button, and prayed to any God that would listen; if his phone had broken, he was done for.
Thankfully, it seemed like something was listening to Peter's pleas as his phone screen lit up. It was difficult to see and navigate the touchscreen, but he had his muscle memory to guide him. He unlocked his phone and pulled up his contact list. He hadn't needed to call Billy before, but he had all of his foster siblings' numbers in case of an emergency. And this was definitely an emergency.
He pressed Billy’s contact and called him. He turned on the speakerphone and waited. The ringing hurt his ears and, in turn, his head, but there was nothing he could do about it. So he just waited.
It took until the fifth ring for Billy to pick up. “Hello?” His foster brother said. His voice was groggy and confused.
Peter had never felt such instant relief. “I need… help,” Peter choked out, trying–and failing–to keep his abused diaphragm from spasming.
That got Billy’s attention. Peter could hear sheets rustling as, he assumed, Billy untangled himself from the bed. “What's going on?! Where are you?!” Billy whispered intensely.
“H…arlem,” Peter wheezed out. It hurt to speak. It hurt to exist. But he tried his best to explain where he was. He couldn't see the street signs from the alleyway, but he had a general idea and could see a few buildings that could help pinpoint him. He could hear Billy wake up Freddy.
"Okay, okay, I think you're somewhere on a hundred twenty-seventh, but stay on the call okay? We're coming." Peter could hear the worry in Billy's voice.
"Yeah… yeah…" Peter said, his vision still twisting and twirling, "gotta… go to… Claire?" He said the name, unsure of himself. That was the name Daredevil said right? His head felt fuzzy.
"Claire? You know Claire?" Peter could hear them Shazam into their alter egos. Had they already gotten outside? Time felt really weird. "Peter? Hey, Peter?! Say something!" They sounded like they were underwater, but Peter could still hear their concern. He opened his mouth to say something–he wasn't really sure what–but all that came out was a groan. "Shit, shit, we gotta move! Pete, stay with us! We'll be there soon, just stay awake!"
"'M… wake…" Peter managed to slur out, barely comprehensible. And also barely true. His eyes were open, but completely unfocused. The adrenaline had run out and he felt so, so tired. He didn't remember closing his eyes, but everything went dark and Billy and Freddy's frantic voices faded into the background.