A Slice Of Life, Death And Everything In-Between

Mortals' Chiefest Enemy

"Alright, everyone, get in position." Steve continues, nodding to both his left and right. "With any luck, the bad guys will still be hiding out in the upper floors and won't even know we've arrived."

"Friday's giving the all-clear." Tony says, his Iron Man mask snapping into place around his head. His narrowed blue stare seems to study every inch of the warehouse and Peter holds his breath, pushing himself even closer to the wall. "We'd better get a move on, though, they look to be making another patrol round, coming this way."

As one, each pair of Avengers goes off in an opposite direction, with Natasha and Clint taking the right side, Hulk and Thor on the other. The only ones left are Steve and Tony, the Captain taking a second to rest a hand against the suit's metal shoulder.

"You sure you got this, Stark?" Rogers asks and Peter frowns, slowly creeping his way down the wall, shimming behind a gigantic metal pipe.

"Duh," Tony scroffs, making a shooing motion with his free hand. "Skedaddle on outta here, Capsicle, I'll be fine."

Steve, face set in a frown, makes his way down the short hallway to his left, stepping through a barely open doorway before slinking into the darkness beyond. Tony, stepping to follow him, is suddenly stopped by a mechanical whirl, high-pitched and grating.

Peter flinches, thankfully landing softly on the ground behind a few broken boxes, crouching slightly and covering his ears with a grimace.

"Friday, what the hell--?" Tony starts, seeming to not be able to move. The suit continues to rumble and Peter, finally gaining his footing, inches closer toward his father-figure, wanting to help in any way that he can. "Do a scan--"

Tony's cut off, however, by the sound of a door banging open from upstairs. As many as 30 people rushed out, guns pointed straight at the still struggling billionaire, their eyes wide behind their black masks.

They shout something in a foreign language, rushing toward Tony just as the man's suit seems to snap out of place, his helmet unlatching and drawing back into the neck of his Iron Man suit again. He's left out in the open, dark eyes wide, and he struggles to raise his hands up above his head, palms out.

"Whoah, okay, let's take it easy now, guys." He says, seeming to attempt to fire a blast in the criminals directions but all his repulsor does is glow a muted blue, sparking out with a tiny whirl. "Shit, uh, can we just have a nice chat, actually?"

The masked-men don't seem to care about talking, however, because they close in on the genius in a few paces, shoving their guns against Tony's temples. Peter can see, through the gaps, how pale his mentor is, how much his hands shake when he attempts to fire one more blast against the closest man.

And it makes Peter angry.

Gritting his teeth, the boy flings himself out of his hiding spot, swinging up above them and narrows his eyes. His mask seems to do the same, the white getting smaller, almost a pinpoint, and that pinpoint is quickly shifted into a red when Peter sees a man hit Tony across the face with his gun.

" Instant Kill Mode activated ." Karen's voice whispers and Peter blinks, forcing the whites of his eyes back, forcing the anger tugging at his chest to let up, for just a second. He can't go that far, despite the rage still shaking his very core. " Deactivating. "

"Wow, uh --"

Tony's still talking, taking a second to spit out a wad of blood onto the floor, before turning back toward the criminals around him. He has a cut above his already swelling right eye, his slit lip dripping more blood down his chin. As Peter watches, the scene now bathed in a hot red of rage, his father-figure grins, his own smile crimson in color, lifting up his now perfectly glowing palm. The Iron Man mask snaps suddenly back into place, the eyes seeming to narrow even more.