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Peter Parker was an intern at Stark Industries, mostly helping Mr Stark with his many projects but also drifting between intern labs on the R&D floors, helping out whoever he could. Peter Parker, however, was first and foremost a kid in high school, a regular civilian. Everyone knew he would never kill anyone, knew he would never touch a gun, much less know how to use one.
Spider-Man was a vigilante in Queens, rarely drifting from his territory. Though he worked so closely with the Avengers on many occasions that he was widely accepted to be one of them himself, a hero of New York. Everyone knew he would never kill anyone, knew he would never touch a gun, much less know how to use one.
The Winter Widow, strictly speaking, didn’t exist anymore. But when he did exist he was Hydra’s, and partially Red Room as well, best soldier. Considered as one of the best spies and assassins, very much a villain. The Winter Widow was a well-known killer, he had no rules or qualms about it, and he was a perfect shot with a gun.
It always made Peter laugh slightly when he thought of it, the fact that he managed to sidle his way into being all four main classes. Most people fell into maybe two of them at most, very rarely three. Not four. Peter was special in that way, having several sperate identities to hide behind wherever he was.
The public only knew him as separates, they knew Spider-Man as Spider-Man. No one truly knew Peter, but those who did saw him as just that, a dorky boy who spoke too much and annoyed everyone. SHIELD and the government had worked well enough that the general public knew nothing of the Winter Widow, however.
The Avengers knew him better than the public, they knew Spider-Man was Peter Parker and they knew Peter himself. Though even they didn’t know he was the Winter Widow, his training had been good enough that hiding his identity, even from other super spies like Nat and Clint, had been easy.
They rarely called upon Peter for help in battles, sure they had seen he was stronger than most of them combined, and that was Peter hiding the majority of his strengths, but he never wanted to hurt anyone which often led to enemies getting away or Peter himself ending up in medbay.
But they hadn’t had a choice, so Peter was sat next to the others in the back of the Quinjet, tugging his mask down over his face and taking a steady inhale of the familiar, almost car-like scent that coated its interior. At first the smell had been overwhelming on his incredible olfactory senses but after several weeks of patrolling he had acclimatised to it and vented a lot of it through the fans built into the system.
Glancing around, Peter took register of who was with them. Not the full team, some were on missions of their own, or in Clint’s case, still badly injured from a previous fight and unable to join in.
Tony and Rhody were arguing over something in the corner, both leant over a hologram getting more and more angry by the second, their voices raising and hands wildly flaring in the air. With a huff Peter looked away, they almost always got along, but when they didn’t the pair became insufferable to work with, and that opinion came from someone who worked with Hydra for several years. Bruce was timidly trying to calm them down, looking small compared to normal.
Across from them was Bucky, Wanda and Natasha, the trio silent as they sharpened knives and polished their guns. Nat looked up when his gaze fell upon her, the two of them in a silent staring contest before she lowered her head continuing what she had been doing before.
Sat next to Peter was Steve, Captain America, it always made him uncomfortable, being this close to the super solider. All his childhood Peter had been told the Captain was his enemy, that he was the worst thing in the world and should be killed on sight. Whilst he had never been fully controlled by Hydra, their teachings were still as strong as before, like metal chains around his throat, it was the reason he was so formal as well.
Exhaling deeply, he pulled up the hologram of the Hydra base they were going to raid. Peter was vaguely familiar with it, he had been placed there a few times during and after missions in the area and all Hydra bases were laid out similarly, but it never hurt to look over blueprints again. When he was sure he could walk it blindfolded Peter flicked his hand and sent the holo away, instead pulling up some of the files for his newest webshooters.
Working on them made the time move faster and before Peter could know it they were descending into a clearing about a kilometre from the base, the Quinjet’s cloaking technology active. They weren’t risking their only chance to get in without being spotted.
Amber and gold leaves surrounded them, the bright hue of fall doing surprisingly well at hiding the team, Tony being hidden the best with his suit’s red and gold colours. As the team walked along, leaves and twigs snapped beneath their feet, soft crunches that were slightly relaxing to listen to.
He let his pace fall into rhythm with his heartbeat, slightly faster than any of the humans, but unwavering in its speed and intensity. Marching was a time where he could turn off his brain, focus on all the smells and scents as he moved along with military precision. Beside Peter, Bucky, and Steve fell into the same rhythm, eyes focused straight ahead, backs straight.
Around the team the trees began to thin, thick, dense trunks becoming fewer and further between, more stumps and rocks. And after a moment, a cliff face grew before them, the black, gaping maw of a cave covered by a thick metal door, capable of withstanding a significant explosion.
Peter slipped forwards first, knowing where the cameras were and how to hide from their mechanical gaze. With a silent jump, he landed on the door, squinting down at the code panel. His fingers moved deftly across the panel, typing in the code he remembered imputing when he was at the base, certain the one Stark had told him to try was a dud.
It clicked after a moment and the door began to roll back into the wall, Peter hopping down and pressing himself against the dark limestone rock. With a glance to be sure that everyone was following, he scampered onto the roof and started to edge through the cave system, staying out of the gleaming white lamps that lit the passage.
“Three maybe four guards at the next intersection, they have guns, but they’re set against a wall and they’re unloaded, you want me to just web them up?” Peter whispered into his comms, wrist already aiming towards the lax men who were idly chatting amongst themselves.
“If you can do it silently and without any of them having a chance to raise an alarm do it Roo. We don’t want to give ourselves away with gunfire this early on.” Tony’s reply came back though, the same quiet whisper that Peter had used.
Steeling himself Peter decided how to strike quickly. Shooting from both wrists, he webbed up the mouths of all the men quickly before lashing them to walls that were out of the cameras view. Their guns were snatched up and Peter secured them to a stalactite before muttering into his comm again.
“Clear.”
He moved again before anyone could respond, knowing the mission was about to get harder. Rocky, dark walls with plenty of hiding spots soon smoothed out into unnatural white tiles. The whole place seemed to glow like snow, no places to hide or blend into.
It opened up before him as well. A huge laboratory stacked with new weapons and technology, vials of gleaming serums ready to be used on willing, and unwilling, test subjects. Luckily there was very few scientists in the room, only gaggle of them who looked on the verge of collapse, a single guard positioned nearby.
He scuttled back into the cave behind him, lowering himself to stand with the other Avengers who were all getting ready to charge inside, likely with guns blazing. Peter didn’t like it when they did that, after escaping Hydra he told himself he would never kill another person in cold blood. They had made him kill and now he had a choice, he wanted to make everything he did a big ‘fuck you’ to Hydra, hence becoming a hero and a vigilante.
Tony gave him a slight clap between the shoulder blades before taking a step forwards that quickly turned into a sprint as he raced in, shooting a single repulsor blast that toppled the scientists like they were white-coated pins on a bowling alley. A single shot from Bucky killed the guard, the bullet clean through his head, spraying crimson gore all over the white wall behind him.
Messy and obvious, if Bucky had still been a Hydra agent that would have gotten him in some serious trouble, probably reprogramed as well if he weren’t lucky. Though if he were in Hydra again that would be the furthest from luck anyone could get.
The super soldier duo cleared the adjacent smaller labs before filtering back in to aid the others in gathering information and destroying anything they couldn’t carry back with them. Bruce frowned at the serums and put as many into a bag as he could, dumping it by the entrance for extraction.
Peter took pride in smashing up machines into tiny scraps, he used his hands mostly until he found length of unused piping and used that to empty his rage onto until it was warped beyond use. It helped to relax some of his pent-up rage against the company that had ruined his, and so many others, lives.
When the lab’s white walls were stained black with grease and oil and all of the machines looked like a tornado had struck them, the team moved towards the next door, it looked thick and took both Bucky and Steve to wrench it open.
They all tumbled inside, not even thinking to check it first. To check it before it was too late.
Behind them to door swung shut, locking them in the room. A room with no widows, or anything else. It seemed to be a cell of some sorts, the door behind them having no handle or mechanics to open it from the inside.
They were stuck.
“Fuck!” Steve cursed as he rushed back, slamming a fist into the thick, heavy metal panelling. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of damage, even when Steve but the full force he had into the punch, a punch that usually could snap right through most materials.
Bucky tried after him, and with him, both times having the same effect. Tony tried to blast through it, but the explosion merely glanced off the surface nearly hitting Wanda in the process. Seeing their failures Peter cracked his fist against it, the metal dented a tiny bit, but it would take years to properly destroy.
To make matters worse it seemed that there was some kind of containment field in it, none of their suits, Tony, Rhody or Peter’s, Ais were functioning and Wanda’s powers wouldn’t even materialize. Peter didn’t remember them ever having this cell while he was present, either they had built it to contain the Winter Widow after he went rogue or they were creating something even more powerful down in the labs.
Tony stepped out of his suit and slumped down onto the floor with a heavy sigh. “Looks like we’ll be stuck here until either Hydra finds out we were raiding their base or when Fury decides we’ve been gone too long and tracks us.”
“Oh, how wonderful.” Natasha huffed rolling her eyes as she leant into one of the corners of the cell, glaring at the door like it would open if she showed it how pissed off she was.
Peter sat down next to his mentor, eyes flicking over the cell noting everything, not that there was much to note. Three walls, the ceiling and the floor were made out of the same solid material, no seams, or gaps visible. The other wall held only the door, which was near seamless, barely thick enough to slide a piece of paper through, his small dent barely stood out with how insubstantial it was. Well made, annoyingly so.
It was hard to gauge time, but Peter assumed they had been in the cell for three hours so far, the mood souring by the minute as the eight heroes were forced to talk to each other. There was a slight improvement when Steve found a deck of cards in his pack, but even those lost their charm after several games of speed, trash, and blackjack.
Huffing, Peter tossed his pack onto the floor and rested his head against it, falling into a light sleep after only several minutes of trying. His light sleep slowly got deeper and deeper until he was fully asleep, dreaming of blood, guns and flashing Hydra emblems embossed over his own body.
“Маленький Паук, проснись сейчас.” Natasha’s Russian lilt whispered in his ear, bringing him away from the nightmarish memory of slaughtering an entire family, babies, and all. (Little Spider, wake up now.)
Peter groaned as he sat up, tapping his mask so it shrank back into the rest of his suit so the others could see how disgruntled he was about being woken. “What’s going on? We free?” His ears couldn’t pick up on any other heartbeats, maybe that was just the room hiding it?
“Welcome to the land of the living, kid. Sorry to wake you but we’re sharing out some food now and thought you’d want to eat too. I know you have a metabolism close to ours.” Steve’s smile was strained as he gestured to a small pile of snacks likely found in everyone’s bags, if Clint had been there the pile would have been far higher, the spy always carrying food.
With a yawn Peter shook his head lightly, “I’m not hungry right now. I’ll eat once we get out of here, can’t be too much longer.” He raided his own bag and threw several small packs of sweets into the pile before turning over and pretending to sleep again, relaxing his body, and slowing his breathing.
He listened as the others ate everything between them, the pile had been small and with three super solider metabolisms, two given Peter wasn’t eating, the pile really wasn’t much for all of them. The lights dimmed soon after, casting long shadows through the room. If that meant that it was a downtime, they had been in there for at least nine tedious hours.
Slowly everyone else bed down, Steve and Bucky curling up together for warmth, laying rigid straight. Tony sprawled over a decent amount of the cell, snoring loudly. Bruce and Natasha were curled into the fetal position nearer the back of the cell. And Wanda was sat upright in a corner; her head having drooped onto her shoulder.
Peter sat up once he knew they were all full out, he fiddled with his webs slowly weaving them into a small blanket, his hands needing to do something. With each link he connected he murmured a name to himself, going through the long list of all of his victims over and over and over again. When he had run away to start his own life he had hacked into a government server and wrote down every name that was connected to the Winter Widow, refusing to let anyone he killed ever be forgotten.
Eventually he had made one blanket, and he was still bored, so, instead of using it himself, he draped it over Tony’s prone form and put to work weaving the next one, laying it over Bruce when he was done. It wasn’t until he had finished the last one, for himself, that he realised that he didn’t have any more webs, the natural spinneret on his wrist useless when he tried to stood out a strand to make a pillow. Usually, he could regenerate webs far faster than he was currently, he probably should have eaten something.
Ignoring the hollow feeling in his stomach Peter sat opposite the door, curled up into his web blanket watching for threat or friend, should either of them open the door. But for hours no one did, and sleep weighed heavier on his eye lids until he gave in, letting darkness swallow him up with its blood-tinted sneer.
The lights in the white cell slowly grew brighter until they were a harsh glare upon the heroes faces. Each of them slowly awoke, sighing at the reality of their continued imprisonment. Warm webbing was carefully wrapped around each of them, carefully weaved into an almost knitted blanket that kept them warm despite the cold metal.
Peter’s stomach growled slightly as he sat up and stretched out, cracking his back. Everyone seemed to grimace at the sound of his hunger, knowing how lethargic he got when hungry. He just shrugged it off and sat down with the others to play another round of cards, in relative silence.
He worked out that each round took around ten minutes to complete, so each time they played a new round he drew a tally on the floor next to him with a half-dead pen he found floating around in his pack.
Twelve tally marks lay before him when his hunger started to get worse, his stomach protested at the empty feeling and made louder gurgles every time it made a noise.
“Gods Roo, I knew your metabolism was bad, but it sounds like you haven’t eaten for a week.” Tony frowned sympathetically at him, his brow creasing with sympathy. “No one got any thing left to eat?” He glanced around at the others.
Bucky shook his head with a grimace looking apologetic at Peter, who didn’t even seem overly phased. The others shook their heads or gave answers of ‘no’ in small voices.
“Its fine, I’ve been stuck before, I know how to survive after my food runs out.” Peter didn’t want to horrify them, but he was hungry and at his wits end. So, sending his nanotech suit back into its watch form he raised his arm to his mouth.
Every primal instinct screamed as he pressed his teeth to the lean, muscular flesh. His brain tried to tell him it was a stupid idea, but Peter had long worked out how to get past his instincts, his training as Winter Widow making him king of his own body.
Sharp teeth ripped through his flesh as he pulled away, chewing on a lump of his own raw arm, blood dripping down his chin, much to everyone’s horror. The taste wasn’t the best, nor was the texture of chewy, bloodied, warm meat but it was palatable, better than some things he had had to eat.
“Peter what the fuck are you doing! Stop that!” Wanda cried, batting at his arm slightly from where she sat closest to him. Horror was ingrained into her face even as his arm healed easily over the wound, leaving fresh skin behind.
“I second that, Peter you should not be eating your arm.” Bruce scowled at him, immediately glancing over the healed skin like he was about to die on the spot for no apparent reason.
Rolling his eyes Peter just took another bite, chewing quickly and swallowing, trying to get it done with before anyone threw up at the sight. When he was full, Peter stopped and wiped the excess blood from his lips and chin, sitting back against the wall. “Its seriously not that big of a deal guys, I can heal more than I eat so it’s a perfectly viable solution for my own hunger.”
Tony Stark inhaled deeply, cursing in Italian before he pulled a cloth from his pocket and gently wiped Peter’s arm to remove the faint remains of blood, hands gentle despite how much he was shaking from fear, horror, and anger.
“You sound like you’ve thought of this before, or have you been eating yourself? Do we not feed you enough, you can just buy what you want, I gave you my credit card for a reason Pete.” He said softly, looking into Peter’s eyes, searching for any sign of a response.
“It’s something I used to do, not anymore. I was a poor orphan, didn’t always have a guaranteed meal, you make do when you’re a hungry mutate.” Peter shrugged, glaring back slightly with a look that screamed ‘drop it’ what he said wasn’t a complete lie.
Thankfully for him, the topic died down, though everyone was more tense around him. Peter couldn’t tell if it was from pity or fear, but they kept their distance, so he assumed the latter was true.
Hours passed before Peter finally heard salvation, he stood up upon hearing the distant heartbeats of people, noting a familiar one amongst the group. But not a familiar one in a good way, he could recognise his old handler’s heartbeat a mile off.
“We have visitors. Hydra visitors. A small army maybe seventy? Eighty men?” Peter shut his eyes to better hear the mass of people, most seemed terrified, though a few were excited, bloody sadists.
Steve raised his shield, standing next to Bucky in front of the door, the other man levelling his gun. Stark and Natasha stood behind them, protecting Wanda and Bruce who were nearly helpless without Wanda having her powers and Bruce without hulking out.
Peter just climbed the walls, crouched upside down above Steve and Bucky, mentally cursing himself out for using up all his webs, he would have to fight hand to hand or steal a gun, both options unappealing.
Silent seconds slipped by as they waited the door slowing whining open as they were greeted with a crowd of armoured agents, their guns raised a few wielding cattle prods. Both groups watched each other unmoving for a moment before Steve raised his shield and charged, ricocheting their bullets back into the crowd, taking out a few of the men.
Everyone joined in now, from both sides, shots were fired, punches were thrown. Most of the agents went down easily enough, a few bullets grazed the Avengers but to their credit no one faltered.
Peter focused mostly on trying to knock people out, that was of course until he saw the Avengers being backed up into a corner by a wave of gun men. He tried to shoot out a web and pull them to safety but only a dribble of white dripped out. Cursing Peter did the only thing he could think of, grabbing one of the unconscious soldiers guns, he raised it and shot.
The metal gun was smooth in his hand, slightly larger than his usual comfortable size, but that was to be expected. Bucky, being and ex-Hydra agent would have worked with the same things as the Winter Widow.
Even from across the room his aim was impeccable, each bullet found their mark in the soldiers shoulders, non-lethal hits that still made them useless in a fight. Peter continued that way, quick, sharp spurts of gunfire that levelled the crowd, most running in terror now. The Avengers took out the stragglers, now she was free from the cell Wanda’s powers flared out, red magic snapping necks and ripping out spines.
Soon it was just one woman stood in the room, arms crossed as bullets deflected off her armour, probably the same metal the cell was made from given its intensely strong properties.
Rage filled Peter when he saw her, he snatched the gun out of Bucky’s hands, the one he had grabbed earlier discarded when it ran out of ammo. He stormed towards his own handler, seeing the grin slowly spread across her face as she realised who he was, Peter hadn’t put his mask back on.
“The Winter Widow.” She crooned, beckoning him closer, as if he were no more than a dog still leashed to her. Long strands of silvery hair fell down her back as she tipped her head back into a cackling laugh.
Peter didn’t hesitate, the moment he saw the pale strip of flesh on her neck, unguarded by any armour he charged. Red filled his vision as the killing calm settled in, his hand wrapped around her throat in a bruising grip.
She gasped in terror, the wheeze becoming more terrified and pained just like Peter had imagined over the years. Her death would be the only one he let himself have, the only one that he truly enjoyed. Peter wanted to draw it out, to choke her then beat her until she was black and bruised and sobbing, begging for death he eventually gave her.
He was the one to laugh now, a broken noise as he pressed the muzzle of the gun to her knee and fired, delighted by the screams she let off, screams of terror, of realisation of what she made.
Maybe he was a monster like they always called him.
But Gods, it felt good to be a monster.
“Peter!” Tony grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, when Peter turned the gun on his mentor Stark flinched, actually flinched, like he assumed Peter would actually shoot him.
Looking around he saw the fear in everyone’s eyes, not worried fear like when he had started to eat his arm, but raw, primal fear, like what crossed their eyes when they saw a mission that would be suicide if they didn’t get backup immediately.
He dropped his old handler, then the gun, regretting ever picking up one again. Staggering back, he stared at his blood stained hands, hyperventilating slightly. Peter tensed as he looked up to the people he had promised himself he would never let get mixed up into his old life.
And he ran. Legs pumping over bodies, both alive and dead. With no webs he was forced to go on foot, not that it mattered, the world around him was a blur as he moved.
(Swap to a Tony centric POV)
The Hydra commander had been very forthcoming with information after Peter had run off, leaving her whimpering and gasping on the blood stained, oil slicked floor. She had told them of who Peter was, not Spider-Man not even his dorky intern. The Winter Widow. A wanted convict tied to a string of murders tracing back several years.
At first he had just laughed at her, Peter a criminal? The boy was far too soft for that. But when Natasha and Bucky had paled, having worked on missions with the Winter Widow before, he was forced to accept the fact that it was the truth.
Beneath his suit’s feet twigs and leaves were pulverized. A blinking light in his visor showed Peter’s location, Tony thanking Thor that he had added more than one tracker into the Iron Spider suit. He had gone alone, sure Peter could probably kill him with one movement, but Tony trusted him more than most of the team, recent discoveries not even shaking that.
It was another reason he felt so bad for flinching, he didn’t mean to. He knew Peter would never shoot him. But he had been betrayed one too many times not to falter at the sight of a guns barrel pointed at his chest, at the fragile reactor that kept him alive day by day. A genius Tony may be normally, but a true dumbass he had been then.
Now he just wanted to find Peter, take him back home so he wasn’t stuck terrified in the woods, eating his own flesh. Was it Hydra’s fault he had been forced to do that before? Maybe he would have to ask Fury to let him personally integrate the Winter Widow’s old handler. No one was allowed to harm his son intern and get away with it that easily.
‘Sir according to my readings Peter should be in the cave just ahead of you. There is a heat signature, but it is weaker than a human’s internal temperature.’ The soft Irish AI voice spoke to him, colours flashing across the visor to show the temperature imbalance Friday had scanned.
Schooling his expression, Tony pushed the brambles aside and strolled loosely into the cave, pausing only to shed his suit. His polished black shoes clacked against the loose damp rocks on the floor as he peered into the dark.
“Hey Roo? You okay?” He called out hesitantly, using the faint blue light from his arc reactor to try and break through the dark, musty void of air separating the pair of them.
Like a cat’s eyes, the light reflected off Peter’s gaze making his eyes look an uncanny green. They seemed so tired and broken, hollow in a way no child his age should ever be allowed to look. Everything he had learnt about dealing with potentially dangerous enemies and allies went out the window at the sight, Tony rushed forwards, shedding his suit jacket and wrapping it around Peter’s cold body, pulling him closer.
“M’ster S’rk? Wha’—What are you doin’ here?” Peter mumbled quietly, pressing closer to Tony’s chest despite how much he seemed to be apprehensive about the whole current situation.
Tony paused for a moment in confusion, Peter, the one who had run off in seeming terror, was asking him why he was there? “You ran off Bud, gave all off us quite the scare. I’m here to take you back to the Quinjet.”
“But I’m the Winter Widow? I’m a killer, dangerous. Why would you let me stay?”
“So is the majority of the Avengers, we kill a lot of people on missions, but you don’t. You haven’t killed anyone since you joined us, so we don’t care. Your past is your past; we won’t bother with that.”
Tears bloomed in Peter’s eyes and Tony immediately panicked, he had never been the best with words, had he said something wrong? Cradling Peter’s head in his hands Tony’s eyes searched his trying to work it out. There were several small wounds across his face, slashes from where brambles and branches had ripped at his skin, but nothing deep that would cause him enough pain to sob as hard as he was now.
Eventually, through his sniffles Peter managed to choke out the words, “I’m sorry for crying Mister Stark.”
“No, no you’re fine kid. I’ve got you.” Scooping up the light boy, Tony walked over to his suit, setting Peter down for a moment to get into the armour. Dwarfed by his jacket, Peter looked so tiny and frail, trembling with those wide Bambi brown eyes. He lifted him up carefully and paused to adjust his grip. “Comfortable kid?”
Peter just weakly nodded, curling up into the cool plate panels of Tony’s armour, his breathing evening out until he was on the cusp of sleep. The sight made Tony’s heart shatter, the skip a beat when he realised he had unwittingly adopted Peter, something he did not regret in the slightest.