the siren |peter parker x siren!oc|

Tranquility: Part 12

Peter webbed them onto the roof of a nearby building, setting Lena down and looking at the former roof where they came from. One of the men Lena had been fighting was now using a literal jetpack to get himself over to them. Whoever had taken Lena captive was absolutely determined to keep her there.

"Remind me to ask Mr. Stark to put jet repulsors in your suit. It'll make all of our lives easier," Peter commented as the man's figure got larger and the pre-fight nerves started to hit him. They always came. It was throwing the first punch was what usually got rid of them. As the man landed, Peter used his a classic tactic of his to throw his opponent off his rhythm: a question.

"Sir!" Peter webbed the guy's gun from his hands and onto the ground a piece of it breaking off. "Why do you think you can steal my partner like that?"

"I do what my employer tells me to do," the man in the ski mask had a thick New York accent and pulled out a taser while he spoke, "Nothin' more nothin' less."

Peter couldn't help it; he rolled his eyes, "Reminds me of this song...Siren wouldn't know it but I'm following the leader, the leader, the leader!"

With each leader, Peter flipped over the man, snatched the taser, and launched his feet into the back of the man's head, sufficiently knocking him out, but they weren't done. More men were jetting on over to the roof, armed and prepared to fight. The lanky man in the mask from the Arsonist's rooftop attack was the final man there, dressed up in his suit for the occasion.

I have got him this time. The determination Lena had was like a flame in her soul. She was ready to take him down, and Peter felt it clear as day.

He kept the minions off of her, webbing and shoving his knee and feet into their faces. They were not well trained, and by the time Lena was done, there was a pile of bodies at his feet, all woozy or completely blacked out. Meanwhile, his partner looked beyond shocked, holding the man's mask in her hand, one knee on his chest and one foot on the ground. She was holding her fist up, ready to punch, but something was holding her back.

"Siren, take the hit," he said to her, approaching confused.

It is Mr. Bridgers.

"Who?"

She flashed a memory in his mind, the day that they had off from school, a certain TV program had a man on their news program. He had shouted at the interviewer-

"How do we know when she's telling the truth? How do we know she isn't brainwashing us all?"

He remembered the maniacal way he had yelled, the way that Lena felt each and every word sink into her skin, the way that she had sat in his arms sobbing until he found a way to distract her.

"Mr. Bridgers," Peter said aloud, shock wavering his voice.

"She killed my sister. You killed my sister," the man spat in her face, forcing her to flinch. Peter shot a web right over his mouth, and then on his torso to keep him in place. Lena wiped off her eyes, and Peter could see that there were tears building up that she was doing everything she could to keep them from spilling over. She didn't want to cry. She didn't want to give the man the satisfaction of making her feel terrible, although bringing up her difficult past filled with being forced to kill innocent people sometimes struck a nerve.

Pinching her eyebrows together, sniffing, and frowning, her fist came into contact with the bridge of his nose, breaking it.

I need you to tell him something.

He stood over the man, whose nose was now bleeding and crooked.

Killing against my will has been the greatest regret of my life.