Liliaeth (liliaeth) wrote,

Fic: Invisible Collar (9/?)

Title: The Invisible Collar
Author: Lore
Rating: MA (NC-17)
Summary: Dark AU post-Civil War
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Tony Stark/Peter Parker
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Betaed by redhawk

Previous Chapters


“Routine 10 alpha.”

Peter instantly responded and went to the left, heading first for the stronger of the two androids and leaving the weaker three for afterwards. Part of him insisted that it would have been better to just use the smaller ones against the stronger one. But his opinion wasn’t asked today. He stopped thinking and let the handlers control his body while they went through one training exercise after the other.

At the end of it, one of them took a towel and started wiping off Peter’s sweat before ordering him in the shower. One minute, no longer. They’d get impatient and would come check on him if he took any more time.

“Jesus, Jameson just doesn’t know when to let up does he?”

Peter could hear them talking, but unless they were talking to him, he had long ago stopped actually listening for anything other than commands.

“This is like the third article this week alone demanding clarity in the Thunderbolts’ program.” The soldier was looking at his newspaper. “What’s his problem anyway?”

“Who knows, the guy’s a nutcase.”

Peter stopped still in the middle of the room, once again wearing white.
“Just head for your room, Spider. We’ll clean up here.” They barely paid him any attention as he left the room. He counted the steps up to the room, 43. It was the same every day.

The door locked behind him as soon as he entered. Automatic failsafe. His spider-sense mapped out the room and he went for the one spot in it that felt least threatening. He stopped thinking as soon as he was on the wall, waiting.

He had no idea how much time had past when Stark entered the room, carrying a tray of food, ordering him to eat. Peter did what he always did these days, he obeyed. Why couldn’t Tony just leave him alone? Why did the man keep torturing him like this? It’d be so much easier if he could just pretend he was dead, if no one cared and he could just slip into orders and obedience. Peter Parker was dead or should be. If only Tony would let go of him…

“Do you want to watch TV?” Peter didn’t answer, Stark wasn’t waiting for an answer anyway. He went up right away and turned on the television. “Come on Peter.”
Peter got up and crouched on the top of the couch, watching the TV-screen. Tony kept switching channels, until he finally found something he liked. It didn’t matter to Peter. His spidersense was buzzing, distracting him from heading back inside his head.

One commercial after the other, one mindless show after another and before he knew it Peter was back in Colorado, nursing his wounds in his cell at Thunderbolt Mountain while trying to get some sleep. His spidersense responded and he sat up on the bench, noticing Osborn standing in the door.

“I’m supposed to take you along for training Peter. Give you a chance to adjust. But I somehow doubt you’d be all too cooperative.”

“Who me? I can be cooperative.”

“No I don’t think so.”

“So what? You’re going to have your goons beat me up again?” They both knew the beating was nothing; Osborn had a far more effective tool of torture than that.

“I think Peter; that you don’t quite appreciate the situation you’re in.”

Peter glared at him.

“Stay.” And Peter was frozen.

“I could do whatever I want with you. I could play with you, have every bone in your body broken, I could have you beaten up within an inch of your life and as long as I didn’t kill you, nobody would bat an eye. And even if you did manage to escape, I could just order you to come back and you would. Hell Peter, even if you did somehow manage to get away from me, away from the nanobots, you’d still be a fugitive. You wouldn’t be able to go to the cops or anyone, because you’d just be implicating them in your crimes.

“I could do anything I want to you, and if someone asks about it, I’ll just tell them you refused to follow orders and it’d be alright. I own you Parker, and I can hardly wait to play with you.”

Peter would have cringed if he could have.

Osborn motioned a remote at the bunk bed; it slid back into the wall.
“Take off those clothes.”

Peter wondered what was up with Osborn, but his body was already undressing. Soon he stood in front of Osborn wearing nothing but his underwear. Osborn picked up the clothes and left the room.


Peter almost fell over in the sudden burst of freedom.

“Some isolation should do you good Parker. Enjoy it.”

And then he was gone, taking the light with him. Peter didn’t see or hear another soul for days. There was a tiny drip of water on the side of the wall, it was barely enough to live on, still leaving his throat parched and dry.

He had no idea how much time had passed. It had even been easy at first. Just sitting there, letting his webbing form around him and sense the vibrations from outside through it. But as time passed and the hunger grew, there was no more webbing to tell him anything. His eyes adjusted to the dark of course, just showing him there was nothing but the walls and the drip. It didn’t help.

His stingers came out and his head was constantly hurting, desperately striving not to become the animal that Osborn wanted him to be. When they finally came for him, he could barely move, remnants of webbing were clinging to his skin and his eyes stood wide open and froze at the sudden intrusion of light.

It wasn’t Osborn standing in the door; just a soldier. The man came in and let him sip some water. After that he was left alone again, the darkness seemed worse than it had been before.

Then the door opened again.

Once again, not Osborn. Another soldier. Peter hid in the corner. The man came up to him and picked him up easy. Peter wasn’t fighting. He just lost consciousness.

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