our favourite father-son duo in the MCU returns for another 200 mini adventures :-)
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MY CONTENT AND ACCOUNT IS NOT A SAFE SPACE FOR ST*RKER SHIPPERS. THIS IS A PUBLIC AND VERY LOUD DNI. GTFO MY PAGE.
a/n: i meant to post on my account anniversary in september, but i got sick with covid and was out of commission with a 104 fever for like a week and was recovering the rest of the month, so. my bad gang. im better now. anyways, i have officially been posting to this site for a very irregular five years. that's crazy! insane! thanks for supporting my work all that time, i wish u all the best💛
finally, HAPPY SPOOKTOBER!! (ask me about my discord 👀 it's a great time to join, we're doing spooktober writing together all month long!)
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Alright, sure. Maybe it wasn't Peter's best idea to take an entire drug trafficking ring down on his own, in a single night, when Tony was expecting him at the end of his patrol for a suit schematics check and some upgrades.
There's seventeen people knocked out on the ground, and more of them keep appearing– they're running through the doors in groups, waves of men in neon-orange vests making circles around him. As Peter side-steps another unconscious dude, he had to at least make the defense that this wasn't what he wanted to be doing tonight.
It really, honestly, truly, was supposed to be a standard patrol. And it had been, he'd just finished up some small-time burglary near 57th street, which is closer to Hell's Kitchen than Peter usually treads (due to some boundary agreements with some other guy he's only kinda terrified of, in the respectful way), and then it got... weird.
He thought it was just a dropoff, so got Karen to call it in quick, and then tailed the car to see where it went. It was only about eight pm, and the August sun was just barely peeking up over the horizon. He had time, he'd be able to get it done and then drop by the tower for his schematics check.
"Karen? Can you tell Mr. Stark I'll be a little late?" Peter asked quietly, observing from afar. "I have to wrap something up before I clock out."
"Of course, Peter. When should I tell him you'll be there?"
Peter looked over the warehouse very thoughtfully. He took into account the amount of exits, the amount of cars surrounding it– even the geographical location! He was thorough!
"The plan is maybe thirty minutes," Peter decided.
Well.
He forgot to account into his plan that, well, nothing ever goes according to his plans.
"How many of you even are there?!" Peter cried out, because seriously, he's tripping on people in an attempt to dodge the bullets they keep firing at him. He pulled some quick maneuvers to group some of them up on the wall with webs, but it was tricky to make sure none of them got shot in the process.
This must have been one of the bigger drug operations, because there were never this many people in one place. He couldn't tell where the boss was, but logically they wouldn't be out with all the defense. They're somewhere else in the building, surely, and maybe if Peter wrapped this up fast enough he could find the asshole before they escaped.
