Chapter Text
Ten years ago, Peter Parker was unique, but in all the right ways. Though only in first grade, his parents constantly called him their little genius, nurturing his love of science and engineering with their own knowledge.
He had a heart bigger than any kid his parents knew, the kind of kid that cried upon not being able to adopt a stray animal, or scolded other kids when they tried to step on bugs. Sweet and caring, Richard and Mary Parker were proud of who they were sure their little boy would grow up to become.
Another thing that made Peter stand apart was not even something he himself had anything to do with, but his parents. At school, Peter was always proud to tell his teachers and classmates that his parents were scientists, but couldn’t hold back his frustration when he found he couldn’t tell them anything more than that.
He had no idea what they worked on, where they worked, or even the names of anyone they worked with. When he asked his parents about the details, they’d given him regretful smiles, sighing.
“Sorry, Petey, but we’re not allowed to tell you those sorts of things. If anyone finds out, we could get in big trouble.”
Peter had pouted, much to the amusement of his parents. “But I know how to keep a secret! I won’t tell!”
“We know, baby.” Mary smoothed her son’s curls out. “But our boss said we can’t, and we have to listen to him. Maybe you’ll find out someday, when you’re older.”
“How much older? Like tomorrow?”
Richard laughed. “Not quite. But we’ll let you know once you get there.”
So Peter’s parents were known as the mysterious ones, therefore marking Peter himself as mysterious as well. On Career Day in kindergarten, the Parkers were the only ones that didn’t show up to talk. Talks around the dinner table would be centered around Peter’s days at school or at the park, since his parents couldn’t talk about their own days.
Peter didn’t push the issue. Just kept looking forward to the day his father had told him of, when he’d be old enough to learn what his mom and dad spent their days secretly working on.
Not even six months later, however, all Peter’s hopes of that day coming were shattered apart, not unlike the glass of a windshield crunching in on itself.
The day had started out perfectly, on all accounts. Peter had had a playdate with his best friend Ned, from school, at the playground. After having been picked up by his mom, they’d settled at the dining table together to let Peter color in his robot coloring book while he told Mary about his day. She’d smile and comment leisurely at her son’s story, a fond, content look in her eyes.
A contentment that disappeared once the door slammed open.
Peter had been ready to jump up and run to his dad, excited to greet him after work, but stopped when he saw his dad’s face. His eyes were unfocused and scared, hands trembling until Mary took hold of them.
What they said next was mostly whispered, all Peter able to catch being “they’ve found us.”
If he hadn’t been scared before, the horror in his dad’s voice certainly sealed the deal.
Before he could even finish asking what was going on, his favorite bear had been shoved into his hands, and his mom was clicking on his seatbelt. The car screeched out of the driveway with a harshness that made Peter clamp his hands over his ears.
“Mommy? Daddy?” Peter swallowed past the tears in his eyes. “What’s going on? Where are we going?”
But they wouldn’t answer him. His dad was muttering something under his breath, his mom clearly crying tears of her own in the front. After a few minutes she reached back to put a hand on the small boy’s leg, stroking her thumb over it comfortingly.
“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” She kept muttering, her shaking voice not matching her words.
Peter may have been young, but he wasn’t stupid. He could tell things weren’t okay.
But he couldn’t handle saying anything else past the lump in his throat, so he just hugged his bear tighter to his chest, burying his face into it and wiping some of his tears off on its fur.
In the next half hour, his dad didn’t once go under eighty, a speed little Peter had never experienced before then. They kept jolting over rocks and potholes, Peter’s head starting to hurt both from crying and the bumps.
Despite all the incredible fear and adrenaline, Peter soon found himself, to his surprise, drifting off to sleep. Fear had turned to exhaustion, and at least his parents were there with him, and his bear. For now, at least, he was in relative safety.
The second he started to close his eyes, though, was when it happened.
Without a second’s warning, Peter was smacked against his seatbelt hard, gasping awake with a death grip on his bear, his parents’ screams in his ears.
Glass crunched inward as the car continued to screech against the street. Outside, past the screams and the ringing in his ear, Peter could almost think he heard the revving of a motorcycle.
The crumpled driver’s side door was wrenched open off its hinges. Through his dad’s window, Peter could see a huge, hulking man dressed in black, a mask pulled up over his mouth and nose. Peter’s mom and dad were pleading, begging the man to let them go.
The man gave no reaction. What Peter could see of his eyes were blank, emotionless.
Even as he pulled a gun from his waistband and shot Peter’s parents in the forehead.
Little Peter couldn’t scream, though he did gasp brokenly from the backseat, his bear as close to his chest as it could go.
The gasp brought the man’s attention to Peter, and the boy hid into his bear, his eyes filling with tears at the thought of that gun being pulled on him. Even at six, Peter knew what had just happened. He knew that his parents wouldn’t be waking up again.
He started fumbling to get his seatbelt off, his shaking hands not getting far before his own door was ripped off its hinges, and the masked man was facing him.
“Please,” Peter whimpered, leaning as far away as he could.
The man’s hand paused on his waistband, and Peter dared to hope.
Then his hand changed direction to the other side of his waist, pulling something out that Peter couldn’t see.
A second later, no matter how hard Peter tried to struggle away, he couldn’t escape the needle being plunged into his neck.
Peter’s body went limp, his eyes closing as the masked man unbuckled his seatbelt, taking him into his arms and holding him over his shoulder.
To get rid of the evidence, the soldier torched the car, Peter’s bear crisping black inside, along with the bodies of his parents.