Tony returned to the Tower, his suit flying off of him as he walked in the front door. Straight away, everyone else knew something was up. Especially Steve.

"What are you all doing up?" grumbled Tony, hoping that no one could tell that he had been crying.

"We've been waiting for you and Peter to get back, speaking of the spider: where is he?" asked Nat.

"They, they, he, I," Tony stuttered, making Steve stand up and put his arm around his friend.

"Tony, whatever happened out there - we'll be able to help."

"I COULDN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT."

Steve took a step back, confused at the sudden outburst from Tony.

"They has Peter tied up, cuts all across his body - his face was a mess. BUT I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't save him. I left him with them. I... I... I."

Tony stopped, tears pouring out of his eyes. He was a wreck, he thought. A stupid wreck, that had sunk to the bottom of the ocean.

"Tony, we're going to get Peter back. But where is he?"

Tony shook his head, "I don't know."

Peter felt sick. The man had shot him in the stomach, directly after Mr Stark had left: yelling at him for revealing his position.

Then he had thrown Peter's suit into a bag - setting it on fire.

"If you want me dead, just shoot me now sir," Peter mumbled, his face wet from both his own tears, sweat and blood.

"Oh we don't want you dead. We need you alive, Parker. But only just," the man answered, injecting the boy with a strong dose of anaesthetics.

Peter's body fell, leaving him hanging like a puppet on the rope. Then the man released him from the rope. Picking him up and carrying him out of the warehouse, into a van.

Bruce opened up his laptop, logging into Tony's server. Finally accessing Peter's suit file, he sighed in relief.

"What now, Tony?"

"Click on that."

Bruce did just that, but only an error message appeared, "Tony, do you think that they disabled his tracker?"

Tony exhaled a deep breath he didn't even know he had taken, "They might have."

"I'm sorry Tony, but without the tracker there's no way to find him using the suit."

Tony picked up the laptop and threw it across the room.

"Hey I'm the one who's supposed to have anger issues."

Peter woke up on a soft, warm bed. It was all a dream, he thought happily, he was still in the medical room at The Avengers Tower.

He opened his eyes: he was wrong.

Completely wrong.

"Wakey, wakey Spider-Boy," said a man with curly, blond hair, in a sing song manor.

Peter realised there were no restraints on him, so he stood up. However he almost fell over, his wounds causing him to wince.

"Where am I?" He asked, as he sat back down.

The blond laughed, "You really don't know anything. Didn't your Avenger teammates tell you anything. Or did they not trust you enough?"

"They trusted me."

"Then why didn't they tell you about Hydra? Why didn't they tell you about inhumans, other super soldiers, or anything that wasn't related to the current mission? Why was that then?"

Peter sat there in silence, defeated. Whoever this Hydra was - they had won the battle. And he had given up.

"You should feel lucky, Peter isn't it, you've got a bed and a rather nice view if I do say so myself. Most people wouldn't get treated this nicely."

Again Peter said nothing, he just didn't have the effort. However he did glance out of the window, and all he could see was the ocean.

They were on a boat, or some sort of mid-sea facility. Peter could remember the mention of a prison that floated in the middle of the ocean, this must have been built on the same principles.

"Are you expecting me to thank you, for kidnapping me, cutting me open, attaching me and shooting me?" Peter asked, trying to be brave - just like the Avengers would expect him to be. Just like Tony would be.

"No. I'm just asking you to relax. Hydra didn't ask Vyde and his men to attack you. Merely to bring you to us," the man replied, "We're on the same side, Peter."

Peter finally found the strength to stand up, but when he walked over towards where the blond man was standing: he realised there was some kind of forcefield in between them.

"My name's John Hemming, but call me John, Peter. We're going to be good friends. I promise you."

Hemming walked away, leaving Peter staring at the blank wall on the other side of the forcefield. He sat down, his stomach growling - he hadn't eaten in almost two weeks. : and that couldn't be good.

Hopefully they'd give him some food soon, otherwise their plan of him staying alive would be an utter failure.

Hemming returned to Peter's cell that evening, a tray with food on it in his arms.

"Peter, I've brought you something to eat."

Peter looked thankfully at his capturer, despite them depriving him of everything and one he love, he was grateful for a meal.

"Now Peter, when I take the shield down, you better not do a runner. There's over a hundred armed men out there - and the second you step out of this cell they'll be ordered to shoot you."

The teen nodded his head, he didn't have enough energy to run - let alone fight. As Hemming entered the room, he handed Peter the tray of food.

"Now kid, tomorrow you've got a big day ahead of you - and if you don't eat, you probably won't make it through it. Now I'm going, so goodnight Peter."

Hemming walked away: reactivating the forcefield.

"Tony there's nobody here," Steve announced, as he crept into the warehouse, "If they were here before, they've fled. The cowards."

Tony sat down, clutching his hands over the arc reactor in his chest.

"It's my fault I didn't save him. I'd be a terrible father. I'd be worse than my old man."

Steve looked at him, a joking look on his face, "No you wouldn't. You'd be great. We just have to find the kid, so we can prove you wrong."