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For my "Beloved" Tony

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Everything was finally going the way he wanted it to. He had MJ there on the bridge ready to confess his love, Black Dahlia to win her heart resting in the hand behind his back. All he wanted to do was tell her the truth and kiss the girl he truly loved.

Everything was finally looking up until she said those painful words.

"Your Spider-Man, I know" 

Shrugging her shoulders and smiling, MJ had Peter's mind racing at her sudden asses of his character. It was foolishly blatant for him to think, and for so long, he could conceal his secret identify from her. Of course she'd figure it out eventually, she was MJ after all. 

He still appallingly denied her openly admitting her observation, terrified of the thought she knew. The fact that knowing was more dangerous than being left in the dark every time Peter ran off. Even if it was painful to constantly be leaving her side, at least than she wouldn't be put in nearly as much danger because of him.

It didn't take long for him to finally give up and admit she was right. Peter knew MJ couldn't be deterred from getting Peter to confirm the truth once she was so sure of his identification.

So close, he was so close to admitting his feeling, to holding the girl he loved closer than he ever had before.

It was only when she pulled out the missing piece to a drone that projected and spun the hologram of the fire elemental, the one he helped kill, that Peter began to worry. In the end the creature wasn't destroyed by the mastermind of illusions. The battle was somehow nothing more than a trick to the eyes. It was hard to fathom the idea that something so dangerously terrifying wasn't even real.

Quentin Beck was an asshole indeed. The biggest of assholes who deliberately lied to his face after building up his trust and tearing it down. An asshole of all assholes who led the boy blindly to the tracks of an oncoming train when he attempted to erase the wide eyed, petrified teen. His actions of a true asshole all because Peter confronted the hero "Mysterio" knowingly aware of his deceiving illusions. 

Getting involved with the strings he pulled behind the scenes was Peter's worst mistake, yet a mistake he didn't regret even after he was hit by an oncoming train barreling past Beck as he said what was supposed to be a final apology for all that he’d done.

It was Beck's fault for lying to him but he knew deep down he had a duty to preform as the magnificent Spider-Man, which became even clearer when Beck kept him from alerting Fury. He knew when she showed him that high tech illusory he couldn't tell her how he truly felt until Beck's hoax was revealed and the man was stopped. There were lives at stake. Peter couldn't live with himself if he didn't get to those who'd become bystanders that Beck would kill for his vigorous cause.

He was upset by the fact the boundaries of his super hero life were crossing that of his normal everyday life, getting closer and closer to the point of no return. And yes, he was upset that telling MJ his true feeling had to be put on hold. But Peter was achingly aware that he had a much bigger responsibility to protect his friends along with those he knew were going to be in danger. He wasn't just an everyday teenager that could go on a proper vacation. Not everyday teenagers, or people for that matter, were bitten by radioactive spiders that had them gain the power to save the world from monstrous, inhuman threats. He was a super powered teen that couldn't just pop off the radar for a school trip, as hard as it was for him to accept.

That's why he got back up. That's why after colliding with a bullet train he stood back up on his two feet and didn't lose his determination to stop Beck. Fully aware of the man's evil schemes, the one that would cause mass destruction and death in the city of London, he couldn't overlook his duty as a hero. With that type of distinctive information there was seemingly no way for Peter to turn a blind eye in hopes Mysterio would forget about him and he could go confess his love without being caught up in all this nonsense. 

So he did what he had to. He fought through thousands of drones, uncloaking the "Avengers Level Threat" in attempt to reveal the true intimidating hazard, a man in a powerless suit with a fishbowl attached to his head.

He was so so close. He had shut the elemental illusion down. He had made it to the bridge in which Beck commanded the drones from. He had roughly fought his way through the personal drones that protected Beck, avoiding the bullets they shot at him and discerning their location with his spidey senses. He watched Beck fall to the ground after being shot by a bullet from his very own drone. Worst of all he had felt truly relieved  as the man reached his hand up in seek of handing back the glasses, a sign of surrender. So how did it come to this? How did he end up in such a hopeless situation? Why wasn't Beck dead? Why wasn't he dead?

Really he couldn't recall what had happened to him. It was troublesome fishing for those memories when he abruptly awoke in a cold, pitch black room that wasn't his. It was a baffling position for him to take in, being tied down to a chair with what was presumably tough rope. From the way he struggled he could tell they were wrapped around his legs and around his chest, though he couldn't see for sure how it was preventing his movements so well. 

It was only when the back of his head screamed out in paint that he understood his situation a little better.

It reminded him of that cursed  gun. That cursed gun he pointed at Peter's head when he uncloaked another one of his illusions.

He sneered at Peter as he held the trigger tight, tempting it and ready to pull. Peter was scared half to death when Beck abruptly moved, under the impression he was about to be killed. But it was only once he fell forward into the man’s arm that he realized that wasn't the case.

Beck struck him in the back of the neck hard as could be, knocking Peter unconscious. The last thing he could remember was the feeling of his eyelids getting terribly heavy, the way they fluttered shut staring at Beck's extended arm pushed lightly into his stomach. It was a weird situation and, Peter didn’t understand why Beck even bothers to prevent him from falling down onto the floor that was littered in glass. He didn’t even understand what made Beck spare his life in the first place. 

So that led Peter back to the question. Why wasn't he dead? He wanted it to be some accursed nightmare where he somehow survived a bullet to his head. That had to be the case. Beck would never let an opportunity to kill Peter slip by him again.

No, Peter knew his healing could never allow him to survive someone shooting out his brain, even if it was enhanced. So the question remained why hadn’t Beck shot him? The only logical answer seemed to be that this was all one enormous dream. A delusion created from all this madness.

This was nothing short of a hellish nightmare. It was far from a dream, and Peter knew the logical answer he came up with wasn’t right. 

From what Peter could figure out Beck had other plans from what he had led on...so how did they involve him?

What scared him the most was knowing they couldn’t end well for Peter, and all Peter really knew was that he had to find a way out of this place as fast as humanly possible.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the unlit room he took a closer look. It was still pretty hard to see, but he was able to notice the room wasn’t furnished. He could see the walls clearer now, bare and stark. They looked like they were made of metal, a tinted white color. Upon closer inspection he could see a large wooden door, hinges painted white, directly in front of him. For the most part it looked relatively normal and Peter couldn’t tell if it was locked or not, but considering the material it probably wouldn’t be that hard to break. 

Now he needed to figure out how much time had passed, or more accurately if he had any time left to save MJ and Ned. Even then that was if Beck had spared their lives up to this point. 

Peter could still feel the dried blood on his face and he was pretty sure it had scabbed onto his brand new suit, though that was the least of his worries. Based on the fact his enhanced healing most definitely would have fixed the small cuts and it seemed as though most of the wounds he’d received were fresh, no more than a day could have passed. 

That London attack was huge, the aftermath would probably be just as much of a mess to deal with. If Beck was making himself out to be the hero he was most definitely caught up in the results. Whether Beck was cleaning up the destruction, reassuring civilians, or being swarmed by the dozens of news channels that needed an explanation to the attack Peter could assume he hadn’t killed his friends, at least not yet.

One, getting things set up to have their deaths staged would take time out of that busy schedule. There was no way Beck could afford to loose that at the moment.

Two, the fact still remained that Beck had refused to take his life, and that meant there was a chance he would no longer see the need for killing his friends. Even if they knew Mysterio was fake no one would believe them, and two normal teens weren’t nearly as threatening as a super powered one.

And three, Beck was smart enough to realize if he killed them all chance of having any leverage on him was lost. Killing off the two most important people in the world to Peter wouldn’t be the smartest move. Even if it was to bound Peter to a tight leash, whatever Beck was planning to do to Peter meant killing those two would ruin any chance of him listening.

As of now that’s the only known reason Beck would have for not straight up shooting Peter. He could be put to use, and it made just enough sense with the information he had in some empty, vague room.  

Of course Peter had no intention of letting Beck win, even if he had lost the battle in London, the moment he got the chance to insure the safety of his friends and his escape, he’d beat Beck to a bloody pulp. 

Okay, but Beck didn’t know what Peter was thinking. So if he was unaware Peter believed his friends were alive, he could at the very least pretend obliviously. It could make sense for him acting out in an attempt to escape if he predicted them dead or in grave danger.

That gave him a chance then. The smartest thing to do would be to get out of this situation as fast as he could. As long as Beck hadn’t directly told him he’d shoot MJ and Ned, he had a slim opportunity to leave before either he confirmed his doubt, or had some change of heart to kill Peter. 

So next was the rope. He could seemingly break that door down if it was locked, and there was nothing in the room preventing him from leaving once he slipped free. He’d deal with what was beyond the room once he was out. 

He pushed against the rope, scraping his skin and burning it from the harsh texture as he inferred the strength. It was tight but Peter was sure with enough force it’d be loose enough to break or slip free of.

Then things started going south, and they started going south fast.

He heard sound. A voice. Oh god was that Beck’s voice? He knew he was short on time but he didn’t think it was running out so fast. He pushed his hand against the rope again and felt the hairs on his neck stand up. He was relieved his Peter tingle was working, but that also meant something was about to happen. Figures those hairs prickled right before he heard the door open.

He jumped from the sudden feeling of Beck’s presence watching him in the room, and brought his focused gaze up to greet Beck’s mocking look. He raised an eyebrow at Peter glancing at the way his left hand had self consciously been tugging at the rope. Peter warily noticed his actions and attempted to relax his tense muscles. 

When Peter pulled back under Beck’s stare, he watched the man give him a slow up and down look pleasingly. Taking in the way Peter reacted to being watched, how his eyes shifted away from contact and his whole body seemingly sunk as if he were trying to disappear, he gave him a heated smile.

Chuckling darkly, he broke the silence. “You’ve been up for less than a minute and you’re already testing the limits of that rope. Come on Peter don’t hurt yourself. Those wounds don’t look like they’ve healed properly yet,” he laughed in a slightly annoyed tone. Satisfaction seeped in fast, however, and Beck didn’t do a very good job at hiding what he found as a prideful accomplishments. Straightening himself he announced, “Right now I’m gonna need your full attention elsewhere, so stop struggling against something so futile and pay attention.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

What was he supposed to do now? He sure as hell wasn’t in the mood for Beck’s rambling. He felt like moments ago he'd been swimming close to the shore, able to see a way back, before being thrown into the ocean, spiraling further and further into totally new waters. 

Well he’d test out the water first. If Peter wasn’t allowed to test the limits of the rope he’d test his position instead.

Might as well considering Beck was probably going to be his one and only moment. 

On guard he squeaked out from his shaky voice, “Why didn’t you kill me?” A simple question, demanding and straight to the point. Maybe he’d feel a smudge of insistence on his right to know if trying to keep his heart from climbing up to his throat wasn’t proving to be so much more difficult with Beck around. “Ah I told you, you weren’t in a position to ask such questions Peter. Now let’s cut the chat and get straight to the point. I need you to do exactly as I say. Interrupt me again and I will put a bullet in your head,” Beck said curtly. 

He knew Beck wouldn’t waste precious resources, let alone time on him, not on something he didn’t compose a plan for. Things definitely weren’t looking up for Peter anymore, but if Beck was going to put a bullet in his head he’d have already done so.

”Look up here at me Peter. That’s it just follow my lead,” Beck commanded as Peter dutifully tried to obey him. He felt like he was going to puke staring up into Beck’s eyes like some obedient little puppy. Peter was almost positive Beck had to be some kind of devil sent straight from the depths of hell, his cold blue eyes probably like that of Satan’s himself.

“In about two minutes I’m going to be in contact with one of your closest friends. That boy has been blocked off from the rest of your school group so you can thank me later for keeping your secret."

Like hell Peter should be thankful for Beck “keeping his secret safe” when he was the whole reason for all this nonsense. Oh god that smug look on his face and that deliberately cocky tone was making Peter sick. He had never wanted to curse someone out this badly before, but Beck continued aware of what the effects of his threat had on Peter.  He brutally states, "Now before you get your panties in a frenzy don’t worry. He won’t be harmed, so long as you do what I ask. Really it’s a simple request. All I need you to do is sit there and look pretty while I work out the logistics of this deal.”

Peter couldn’t keep his mouth shut much longer. “What deal?” he blurted out curiously unable to catch himself by the times the words escaped his mouth. He felt an awful feeling in his stomach rise as Beck glared at him. It wasn’t impassive, but it was far from friendly. He felt himself glance away once more, fearful in the embarrassment statement. Once he broke contact Beck continued speaking this time much more commanding, “That should be the least of your worries, so can you keep your mouth shut and hold onto that impulse for me?”

The room felt quietly unsettling again and Peter looked up in realization. “...Y-yeah,” he says uncomfortably.

“Yes sir,” Beck condemns back. It gets on Peter's nerves but he's pretty sure that's what Beck's trying to do anyway. He's an asshole and being at Beck's mercy just reminds him how big of a dick the man is. It's only a moment later when Beck finalizes his one on one speech.

”Then let the show begin”