The boy in the chair was not Peter. Or rather - It was Peter, just not their Peter. As it turns out, Doctor Selvig had been correct. Doors opened from both sides, and portals were the science-magic version of doors.
They had opened a door to another reality, and the reality reached through, dragging Peter across and stepping through in his wake. That had been all the strength their attempt had to spare, and the portal had promptly collapsed.
Sitting across from them, was a boy with Peter’s face. An almost exact twin, barring the fact that this boy was even paler. An almost translucent white that seemed to bring out the fact that his eyes were like arctic ice. Eerie in a way that made Tony uncomfortable, should he connect with them for too long.
This Peter had scars, too. A jagged, horizontal one down his throat, and one on the rise of his cheekbone, stretching up towards his right temple. What looked to be a handprint was barely visible under the shirt, fingertips reaching across his left collarbone. Tony felt sick staring at them.
There was another two fundamental differences in this Peter, too. He somewhat had a version of the Iron Spider, except…It lived within him. Activated as his call and stemming from a sickly familiar blue glow, visible under the shirt fabric.
This Peter had a reactor.
Icy eyes blinked demurely, and Not-Peter cocked his head with a pitying look. When he spoke, his voice was raspy, almost seductive. “Look familiar, Mr Stark?” and when he lifted his gaze, the smile was sharp, more a dangerous baring of teeth. Tony ground his teeth, jaw ticking.
It was Peter, but it was all wrong. This Peter fought like a cornered animal, rabid and out to kill. At Tony’s side, the Winter Soldier slowly slid his tongue over his bleeding lip. hand pressing gauze to the puncture wounds at his side. Tony couldn’t help reaching up, fingertips barely skimming the outline of his own saving curse.
“He gave it to me” Not-Peter continued, eyes fixed on Tony with a lethal, gleeful stare. Tony couldn’t help jerking, looking up at the boy. Was he a boy? It was hard to tell. He seemed young, but hardened. More muscular than their Peter, and a little taller. He?
Not-Peter practically purred, a vicious smirk settling on his mouth. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t know, do you? See, there isn’t just a me, back there. There’s a you, too”. Tony stepped closer, shoulders squaring. If there was a him in this other world, then Peter was safe. Right? The hope and relief must have been open on his face, because a bitter, crushing laugh broke his thoughts.
“Well. Not a you exactly. Although you have his face. His name. No…This Tony Stark is a God among men. He perfected Extremis, and he conquered that pathetic little planet. They all bend the knee to him. And your soft, sweet little version of me? He’s going to eat him alive”. It tapered off into a snarl at the end, and the only thing that stopped Tony surging forwards was the Soldier’s hand on his chest, immovable and solid.
“Leave us” he spoke quietly, almost a whisper. But Not-Peter’s head tipped again, a challenging mix between a pout and a smirk on his face. Tony sucked in a breath, turned and looked into the steady, grey eyes of his companion. After a moment, he jerked himself from the grip and turned away, hands shaking as he left the confined lab.
Within it, the Soldier tossed aside the gauze and pulled a chair from a nearby workbench and drew it back-first in front of the other-worldly boy, sinking onto it with spread thighs, arms resting over the ridged back. Not-Peter looked delighted, eyes blatantly roaming the body on display, the metal arm that tapped its fingers in an idle pattern.
“Now you...He would like you. I know the look in those eyes” Not-Peter purred, flirty and low. “Although…The arm. He’d want to make some adjustments to that. He likes to improve his toys”. The Soldier cocked a brow, unimpressed, but interested none the less. From what this boy said, his reality’s version of Tony was evil. The villain, not the hero.
The boy’s lashes fluttered as another sonic pulse wracked his body, followed closely by a minor electrical one. A hasty set-up, designed to contain the metal coursing through his body. Not enough to kill him, but enough to take away the chance of him breaking free.
“Our Peter. Where did you take him?” He asked after a moment, his own head tilting as he waited for the boy to recover. He had deduced fairly quickly, that torture would not work on this other Peter. The boy had been broken as many times as the Soldier had, and was beyond the reach of pain.
“You so rudely interrupted my time with him. I had to give him something to entertain himself with whilst I investigated” Not-Peter shrugged, looking idle and unconcerned. Their Peter was with the evil twin of Tony, then. That meant their timescale for fixing the portal was now on a strict limit, if the form of the boy before him was anything to go by.
Not-Peter looked almost dreamy, exhaling a soft sigh and squirming amongst the heavy restraints. “Mr. Stark is a Deity. He’s not like this pathetic copy-cat. He’s Superior. And I am his. I was like your Peter, once. Soft. Delicate. Weak. But he was kind enough to perfect me, the same way he brought himself above everyone else. He is a King”. His voice was a mixture of fierce, soft, proud.
So this…’Superior’ Tony had taken this Peter on as a…Project? Pet? Undoubtedly, they were either together, or this Peter idolised that Tony to the point of wishing they were. He reached out, tapped a metal finger harshly to the reactor with a loud clang. The boy stiffened, snarling at him with bared canines.
“And torturing you. Modifying your body. Breaking you open to force all these little bits of himself inside. That’s his love?”.
The low smirk, the sharp gaze. Defensive, offensive. It was enough. Regardless of if his Tony loved him, this boy loved his Tony. The Soldier hummed thoughtfully, pressed against the reactor before taking his hand away.
“He will come for me” Not-Peter rasped, looking gleeful. Vengeful. “He will break yours, first. Will make him cry, and scream. Make him beg. If he survives, he might be lucky. He might become like me. Although…You should hope he doesn’t. I don’t like to share”.
The Soldier looked thoughtful, hand raising to tap the reactor again, tracing the light pattern visible through the thin, dark shirt. “Your Stark. Does he know how to inter-reality travel?” The boy looked rueful.
“He was just beginning to toy with the idea. After all, why rule just one world, when you could rule them all?”. So. Evil Tony did not know how to open the portal. At the least, it kept them safe from the man invading, before they were prepared. But it also meant the only hope for Peter lay at their own shoulders.
The Soldier rose gracefully, keeping touch with the pulsing reactor. The boy watched him carefully, following his movements as he shifted around his chair, placed a boot between the boy’s thighs, and promptly kicked him over. He moved swiftly, pressed his foot to the boy’s stomach without gentleness, and ducked down, grasping the ridge of the reactor.
“Do you think I am like him?” He asked softly, meeting the sharp, hateful gaze from behind strands of dark hair. “He broke you. Bent you. He made you cry. Scream. He made you beg. Do you think the blood on our hands is the same?” He asked, locking his grip.
The boy almost spat on him, a sickening smile spreading. “You can’t hurt me. You could never hurt me as he did”. It was as far as the boy got, because the Soldier pressed his hand to his ribs, and begun to slowly, steadily, pull. The boy was still baring teeth, but the fury in his eyes had lessened, replaced with something almost wary.
The Soldier did not answer. Simply enforced the connection between metal, pulling slowly, but steadily. Skin begun to falter against the grip, and the steady fury begun to bleed away from the boy’s eyes. From wariness to realisation, to cold resolution.
Skin tore and the boy’s breath staggered on his inhale, eyes widening. “You are bent. But still breakable” the Soldier noted, pulling harder. The metal jostled, flesh coming apart around the pull of metal. Wet blood begun to soak the material, and the Soldier felt the reactor slide upwards. The boy whimpered, but the steely gaze remained, tinged with fear as it was.
The Soldier let go, pulling away and pulling the chair upright as he withdrew. “I will break a piece of you, for every mark that Stark’s boy returns with” he promised, leaving the room. Tony was a breath around the corner, looking sick and resigned.
“Did you hurt him?”. His voice wobbled, thick with sorrow. When Tony looked up, his eyes were raw with unshed tears. The Soldier frowned slightly, looking down and flexing the fingers of his metal hand.
“He is not yours. And he is not above pain. In his reality, you are the villain. A perfected form of Extremis has allowed you to dominate the world in his reality. That boy is his…Plaything. But they have yet to create a portal, which means we have the upper hand”.
It was no consolation, and the Soldier knew the implication that his words held. Their Peter was not safe there. Least of all in the hands of Stark’s alternate self. The proof was in the boy they had left behind.
“If you two are in that reality, there stands a good chance that we may come up against other people we know there. People like me. And there’s a large possibility we aren’t good there, either. I will get the others together, bring them up to speed. You should go back to the original blueprints of the portal”.
The Soldier moved off, and then it was just Tony, shaking against the wall and doing his best not to think of the boy with Peter’s face, just a thin layer of concrete and glass away. He knew he should walk away. JARVIS could keep an eye on the boy, and the Tower was one of the most secure places in America. If needed, Barn Doors Protocol could be activated.
He found himself stepping through the doors, shuddering as glacial eyes fixed onto him. Not-Peter’s head tilting slowly, and a cross between a smirk and a pout quirked his lips. “Awh, now isn’t this just adorable?” He murmured, lounging where he was tied. Tony’s jaw ticked and he stopped, scowling.
“Tell me what is going to happen to Peter” he demanded after a moment, approaching warily. Not-Peter’s lips tipped into a sharp grin, and hr shrugging lightly, tipping his head to look casually around the room.
“Mm, hard to say. Daddy’s never exactly predicable”.
Not-Peter’s gaze flicked to him, as though knowing Tony had tripped over the word, and he simpered, licking slowly at his canines.
“He could be dead already. Daddy doesn’t have much patience. Or maybe he’s lucky, and he’s gonna end up just like me. Or perhaps….Perhaps Daddy enjoys having another broken little thing with my face. Perhaps he’s enjoying hearing my voice begging again”.
“And if he likes it enough…Your precious little knock-off could be getting pounded into the wall as we speak”. Tony stiffened, leaning close, and Not-Peter was practically grinning now, eyes laser focused. “Does he beg for you, you weak little copy? He’ll beg for Daddy. Does his tight little ass milk your cock, hm? Daddy’ll split him in half. He’ll never be tight again”.
Tony struck him. He didn’t mean to, and even Not-Peter looked surprised for a moment, blinking slowly before turning his head, now outright delighted. A sliver of wet, pink tongue dipped into the slight break of skin at the corner of his mouth.
“Does that piss you off? Knowing your wet piece of ass is gonna come back all sloppy and used? Or are you worried Daddy’ll ruin him forever, huh? Worried you’re gonna get him back and all he’s gonna want to do is crawl right back to-” Not-Peter’s voice cut off as Tony gripped him by the jaw, drawing their faces close together.
“Do you think your version of me would still want you, if you came back all sloppy and used? Do you think he’d keep you around, if he knew you bent over like a good little slut for the ‘weak’ version of him?” Tony asked after a moment, forcing himself to say the words. Forcing himself to steel his voice.
There was something akin to startled fear, just a brief flicker, that crossed Not-Peter’s eyes. It was enough. Tony forced himself to smirk, slow and cruel.
“Mm. I’m not so different in another universe, then” he remarked, pushing away Peter’s jaw and standing, giving the boy a crude, cold once-over. Then he turned away, striding for the door. The sound of Not-Peter’s thrashing and howling followed him the entire way out.
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