YAWA FIDGETED IN THE METAL SEAT, her hands jerking slightly. She pressed her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes at the bright lights above her. She breathes heavily, silently cursing herself for stupidity. Heals click against the tile ground, coming into the room that she is currently locked inside. She looks forward, watching as Secretary Ross, Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff all walk into the room. Ross has a grim look on his face, not liking coming down to have to talk to her for help.
He looks over at Yawa. "I don't suppose you have any idea where they are?" He asks her in reference to Bucky and Steve. "I mean…I was told you found Bucky the first time."
"I don't know." Yawa admits. "I mean… the training we have. We could hide anywhere. I honestly don't know." Ross looks at her in displeasure, gripping his hands tightly.
"We will." Tony tells him, and the secretary looks over at the billionaire, an eyebrow raised. "GSG-9's got the borders covered. Recon's flying 24/7. They'll get a hit. We'll handle it." He tries to reassure him.
"You don't get it, Stark." Ross argues, looking over at him with harsh eyes. "It's not yours to handle. It's clear you can't be objective." He shakes his head, his hand on his hip. "I'm putting Special Ops on this." He says it firmly, trying to show that there is no room for debate in this topic.
"What happens when the shooting starts?" Natasha asks him seriously. "What, do you kill Steve Rogers?"
"If we're provoked." Ross argues, not really caring about if he came out alive or not. "Barnes would've been eliminated in Romania if it wasn't for Rogers. There are dead people who would be alive now. Feel free to check my maths."
Yawa glares at Ross. "He wasn't even fighting back, he was letting take him." She reminds him. "I don't feel like it's our fault. Or Natasha's, or Rhodeys or Tony's. You should have vetted your so-called psychologist before he came in." She argues, leaning forward as much as she could.
"All due respect, you're not going to solve this with boys in bullets, Ross." Tony interrupts Yawa without a second thought, trying to de-escalate. "You gotta let us bring them in."
"How would that end any differently from the last time?" Ross asks him dryly, looking him right in the eyes.
"Because this time, I won't be wearing loafers and a silk shirt." He remarks, hinting that he'll be wearing his iron man suit instead. "72 hours, guaranteed."
Ross huffs. "36 hours." He compromises. "Barnes. Rogers. Wilson." He quickly walks away from the room.
"Thank you, sir." He says, the words hanging in the air as the secretary quickly leaves the fortified room. Tony's shoulders slump as he exhales, stressed. "My left arm is numb, is that normal?" He jokes.
Natasha reaches over and kindly pats him on the shoulder. "You alright?" She asks him, worried.
"Always." He lies, rubbing his head where there is a massive black eye and a cut along his brow, a few drops of wet blood still left on it. "36 hours, jeez."
"We're seriously understaffed." Natasha remarks. She glances over at Yawa. "Even with a super soldier."
"Oh, yeah. It'd be great if we had a Hulk right about now." Tony replies. "Any shot?"
"No. You really think he'd be on our side?" She wonders, already knowing the answer.
"No." Tony admits, looking down with a sigh.
"I have an idea." Natasha suddenly spoke up, and Tony looked over at her.
"Me too." He confesses. "Where's yours?"
"Upstairs." She admits. "Where's yours?" Tony smiles slightly, a smirk coming over his face before he shakes his head, quickly walking away from the room. Natasha looked away from the door and walked over to the prison pod, standing just in front of the chequered lines on the floor.
Yawa looks down at her, sighing, having long given up on trying to escape even though most of the security protocols are now turned off. "Is it too late to sign the accords?" She asked. "Or even get out of here." She looks around the pod, grumbling to herself.
Natasha nods slightly. "I want to make you a deal." She admits and Yawa raises an eyebrow. "If you agree to help us bring in Rogers, Wilson and Barnes no matter what, we'll see if we can get you extradited over to an American psychiatric unit."
Yawa thinks for a moment, her muscles tensing in their restraints. "I know where they are." She admits after a few minutes, her voice low and quiet. "I just didn't trust Ross to tell him." She looks away, her fingers flexing. "I don't wanna harm Buck. He didn't do anything. He doesn't deserve going to prison."
"He resisted arrest. That he's guilty off." Natasha argues.
"He was provoked. They were shooting at him. We certainly didn't deserve to be treated like an animal. Being locked in these…" She hesitates for a moment, trying to think of the right word.
"I get it." She bursts in before she can say anything more. "But the government unfortunately sees that. So either you agree to help bring them in, or you can stay locked up in here until you are transferred over to a Wakandian prison. Your choice."
Yawa nods slightly. "I promised him I wouldn't hurt 'em. But… who's really at fault." She purses her lips, breathing heavily, looking down, shaking her head as she thinks. "I can't hurt 'em. I can't. But I'll stop him. Because I don't want him to hurt himself. He doesn't understand what he's doing." She relaxes in the restraints, watching as Natasha goes up to the controls. She presses a button and the restraints on the chair release, letting her stand up. She gets up, walking over to the door. "I'll help, but promise me you won't kill him. Promise."
Natasha nods, opening the door up with a hiss. She sticks out her hand, letting her shake it. "Now, where are they?"
— — — — —
Over in Queens in New York, a 15 year old boy with brown ruffled hair, baggy clothes and a backpack slung over his shoulder, is walking over to a large block of apartments. As he glances at the DVD-player in his hands, examining it slightly, he notices a sleek black car sitting outside of the rundown block of flats. He stops in his tracks at it, confused at why something like that would be somewhere like where he lives, as it stood out of place greatly. He shakes his head, rubbing it off before quickly entering and going up to an apartment. He walks in, his head low slightly as he listens to his music. "Hey, May." He greets his aunt.
"Mmm." She hums, one arm lying over the backrest of the couch. "Hey. How was school today?"
"Okay." Peter answers, looking at her. "This crazy car parked outside…" His voice trails off, his eyes widening when he sees Tony sitting on the other side of the couch.
"Oh, Mr. Parker." Tony smiles over at him.
"Um…" Peter looks confused, taking the earphones out of ears, his mouth hanging open. "What--what are you doing…?" He tries to find his words, star struck in the presence of the billionaire and inventor. "Hey! Uh, I'm--Im--I'm Peter."
"Tony." He returns.
"What are… what are you--what are you--what are you doing here?" He eventually manages to say, his eyes wide, stumbling over his words.
"It's about time we met. You've been getting my emails, right?" Tony asks, quickly fabricating a story to cover up the real reason he's here.
"Yeah." Peter sounds hesitant, lowering his arms. "Yeah."
"Right?" Tony asks again, looking in the eyes.
"Regarding the…" Peter plays with his hands, thinking about what to say.
"You didn't tell me about the grant." May smiles at him.
"About the grant." Peter says, looking at her before glancing back at Tony.
"The September Foundation." Tony tells him.
"Right." Peter replies, still sounding somewhat suspicious.
"Yeah." Tony confirmed, nodding ever so slightly as if to get to play along. "Remember when you applied?"
"Yeah." Peter said.
"I approved, so now we're in business." Tony explained to him.
"You didn't tell me anything." May tells Peter, looking over at her nephew. "What's up with that? You keeping secrets from me now?"
"Why, I just, I just…" He thinks for a few seconds. "I just know how much you love surprises, so I thought I would let you know… wh… anyway, what did I apply for?"
"That's what I'm here to hash out." Tony reassured him.
"Okay. Hash, hash out, okay." Peter nods quickly.
"It's so hard for me to believe that she's someone's aunt." Tony remarks, changing the conversation to avoid May picking up on any suspicion in their awkward conversation.
"Yeah, well, we come in all shapes and sizes, you know?" May smiles.
Tony picks up his empty plate. "This walnut date loaf is exceptional." Tony says, complementing May's cooking.
Peter holds his hand up, telling him to stop talking. "Let me just stop you there." He chuckles.
"Yeah?" Tony smirks.
"Is this grant, like, got money involved or whatever? No?" Peter asks.
"Yeah." Tony answers.
"Yeah?" Peter confirms, making sure.
"It's pretty well funded." Tony answered.
"Wow." Peter smiles.
"Look who you're talking to." Tony jokes, getting up from the couch and patting him on the shoulder. "Can I have 5 minutes with him?"
"Sure." May answered.
— — — — —
Tony walks into Peter's bedroom, a small single bed pressed against the side of the wall. There is a desk on the other side of the wall, filled with junk. He leans over the bin and spits out the walnut loaf. "As walnut date loaves go, that wasn't bad." He remarks, wiping his mouth. His eyes drift around, noticing the collection of old computers and parts sitting on the wooden desk. "Whoa, what do we have here?" Tony asks. "Retro tech, huh? Thrift store? Salvation Army?"
"Uh, the garbage, actually." Peter admits sheepishly.
"You're a dumpster diver." Tony realises.
"Yeah, I was…" Peter shrugs, looking Tony in the eyes, thinking back to the conversation in the living room. "Anyway, look, um, I definitely did not apply for your grant."
"Ah-ah! Me first." Tony bursts in, putting his finger out.
"Okay." Peter replies.
"Quick question of the rhetorical variety." He tells him, bringing out his hologram phone, projecting a video of Peter Parker in his Siper-Man suit swinging down the road. "That's you, right?" Tony says, looking back over at him.
"Um, no." Peter tries to brush it off. "What do you… What do you mean?"
"Yeah. Look at you go." Tony smiles as the video shows Peter catching a bus speeding down the hill, the breaks having failed. "Wow! Nice catch. 3,000 pounds, 40 miles an hour. That's not easy. You got mad skills."
"That's all-" He gulps. "That's all on YouTube, though, right? I mean, that's where you found that? Because you know that's all fake. It's all done on the computer."
"Mm-Hmm." Tony nods, not believing it, knowing that he's lying.
"It's like that video. What is it?" Peter asked.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah… oh, you mean like those UFOs over Phoenix?" Tong suggested with a playful smile on his face.
"Exactly." Peter answered.
Tony smirks before walking into the middle of the room and poking part of the ceiling with a stick, a trap door opening and a suit on a string falling out. It's red and blue, with a spider symbol on the front. "Oh, what have we here?" Tony taunts.
Peter quickly takes the suit, throwing it into the cupboard behind him, hiding it. "Uh… that's a…" He stumbles over his words, realising that he's been caught.
"So. You're the…" He shrugs. "Spider… ling. Crime-fighting Spider… you're Spider-Boy?"
Peter flds his petulantly, looking at him in annoyance. "S…" He groans. "Spider-Man." He looks away in embarrassment.
"Not in that onesie, you're not." Tony remarks.
"It's not a onesie." Peter argues as he watches Tony over to the cupboard, picking up the suit from where Peter discarded it. "I don't believe this. I was actually having a real good day today, you know, Mr. Stark." He sighs, grumbling. "Didn't miss my train, this perfectly good DVD player was just sitting there and…" He points over to the desk. "Algebra test. Nailed it!" He drops his arms.
"Who else knows?" Tony asks. "Anybody?"
"Nobody." Peter confesses.
"Not even your…" Tony smirks. "…unusually attractive aunt?"
"No." Peter answers quickly. "No, no. No, no. If she knew, she would freak out. And when she freaks out, I freak out." He looks panicked.
"You know what I think is really cool?" Tony says, examining the web shooters. "This webbing. That tensile strength is off the charts. Who manufactured that?" He looks up at him.
"I did." Peter answered.
"Climbing the walls, how you doing that? Adhesive gloves?" Tony questions.
"It's a long story. I was uh…" He starts to say, watching as Tony lifts the black goggles from the mask up to his face, trying to see out of them.
"Lordy!" Tony exclaims. "Can you even see in these?"
"Yes. Yes, I can! I can. I can-I can see in those. Okay? It's just that… when whatever happened, happened… it's like my senses have been dialled to 11." Peter explains, his words rushes. "There's way too much input, so… they just kinda help me focus."
"You're in dire need of an upgrade." Tony tells him. "Systemic, top to bottom. 100-point restoration. That's why I'm here." Peter casually sits down on his bed, his arms over his knees, his back hunched slightly. "Why you doing this?" He asks, suddenly changing the conversation. "I gotta know. What's your MO?" He points over to the bed he's sitting in. "What gets you outta that twin bed in the morning?"
"Because…" He sighs, fiddling with his fingers. He glances down but looks back up at him. "…because l've been me my whole life, and I've had these powers for 6 months."
"Mm-Hmm." Tony nods.
"I read books, I build computers… and--and yeah. I would love to play football. But I couldn't then so I shouldn't now." Peter admits, his fingers flexing slightly, thinking to himself.
Tony looks over at him in understanding. "Sure, because you're different." He reminds him, coming slightly closer. His arms are held in front of his body.
"Exactly." Peter agrees. "But I can't tell anybody that, so I'm not." He leans back, his back against the wall. "When you can do the things that I can, but you don't…" Tony comes closer as he talks to him. "…and then the bad things happen…they happen because of you."
Tony stops in his tracks, seemingly affected by Peter's words. He looks down, his mind thinking what he said through. "So you wanna look out for the little guy?" Tony summarises. "You wanna do your part? Make the world a better place, all that, right?"
"Yeah." Peter confirmed. "Yeah just looking out…" He smiles. "…for the little guy. That's--that's what it is."
Tony walks over to the twin bed and slowly steps over to where Peter's leg is stretched out over the bed. Tony looks down at the leg and indicates to it. "I'm gonna sit here, so you move the leg." He informs him and Peter quickly moves along to allow Tony to sit down. Tony sits beside him and raises his hand. He hesitantly clasps Peter's shoulder. "You got a passport?"
"Uh, no." Peter answered, tilting his head slightly, wondering where this conversation was going. "I don't even have a driver's licence."
"You ever been to Germany?" Tony asks him casually.
Peter looks at him in confusion. "No." He says slowly.
Tony smiles. "Oh, you'll love it." He remarks.
"I can't go to Germany!" Peter suddenly says, his hands gripping the edge of the bed.
"Why?" Tony asks.
"I got…" He hesitates, thinking for a moment. "…homework."
Tony shook his head. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that." He tells him, looking away.
"I'm---I'm being serious! I can't just drop out of school!" Peter argues.
"Might be a little dangerous." Tony tells him. "Better tell Aunt Hottie I'm taking you on a field trip." He goes towards the door of the room, his hand wrapping around the door knob.
In a panic, Peter quickly triggers his web shooters, shooting a web at Tony's hand, trapping it on the door knob and stopping him from opening the door.Don't tell Aunt May.
"Alright, Spider-Man." Tony chuckled and they shared an earnest look before Tony returns to his usual attitude, looking at him with a deadpan expression. "Get me out of this.
"Sorry, I'll get the…" Peter apologises, quickly raking through his desk.
— — — — —
Back in the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre, T'Challa is standing in the garage, talking with members of a security team, analysing footage and tapping into the cameras and satellites, trying to narrow down where the others may be. "It's just a matter of time." Attache said, looking down at the tablet. "Our satellites are running facial, biometric, and behavioural pattern scans." They explain.
The security chief, a woman with a shaved head and a tribal tattoo on the bare black skin, looks over at where Natasha is standing, who is currently in the way of the entrance to a sleek black car. "Move, or you will be moved." She orders, her voice firm and accented.
"As entertaining as that would be…" T'Challa forces a smile, looking over at the red head in front him.
"You really think you can find him?" Natasha wonders.
"My resources are considerable." T'Challa reminds her.
"Yeah, it took the world 70 years to find Barnes…" Natasha retorts, her arms crossed over her chest. "…so you could probably do that in about half the time."
"You know where they are." T'Challa asked her, suspicious if she did.
Natasha gives him a knowing smile. "I know someone who does." She says slyly. Before T'Challa can argue, or try and say otherwise Yawa walks out of the door into the garage. She's wearing her old combat gear, her hand on her holster, a big smirk on her face as she looks at the king, giving him a small nod.