Actions

Work Header

57 Seconds

Summary:

“People of Earth,” Ironman’s robotic voice rang out, projecting through millions of screens worldwide. “Do not fret. Do not fear. Do not panic. And I cannot, stress this enough; do not fight.”
He waved his hand, gesturing to where an almost identical suit to his own was stood, powered down and useless; a second Tony Stark beside it, bound in chains, as were the rest of the Avengers.
“You have lost.” The Ironman continued to explain. “We have won. This world is ours now. The latest acquisition in our interdimensional empire.”

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

“People of Earth,” Ironman’s robotic voice rang out, projecting through millions of screens worldwide. “Do not fret. Do not fear. Do not panic. And I cannot, stress this enough; do not fight.”

He waved his hand, gesturing to where an almost identical suit to his own was stood, powered down and useless; a second Tony Stark beside it, bound in chains, as were the rest of the Avengers.

“You have lost.” The Ironman continued to explain. “We have won. This world is ours now. The latest acquisition in our interdimensional empire.”

Across the stage the Other Avengers nodded and smirked in agreement, each towering over their counterparts.

“Your heroes are incapacitated. They cannot stop us. They cannot save you.”

The ironman paused, then let out a sound that might generously have been called a laugh, “Not that you need saving of course. Not from us. Not if you cooperate. Submit to our rule and you will all be just fine.”

In the middle of the stage Captain America began to struggle against his restraints in protest, shouts of anger muffled by the gag in his mouth. People all over the world winced in sympathy and misery when the Other Captain kicked him roughly in the stomach, silencing him once again.

There was a lot to be said for the element of surprise.

One day everything had been fine, the world safe under the protection of its mightiest heroes; the next, they were here.  Other Avengers from another world. A world where things had gone wrong. So very wrong.

It had taken them a matter of days to subdue this worlds team.

A task made easier because this worlds team hadn’t known to fight back at first. Hadn’t known to defend against themselves.

They took out the heavy hitters first; dark magic disabling Thor’s hammer, an embedded virus shutting down ironman’s armour, a sneak attack separating Captain America from his shield, even the Hulk had been subdued using a formula developed by the other world’s Bruce Banner.

“We are gathered here today,” Ironman taunted his terrified audience, “To witness a new beginning.”

The crowd of civilians who had been violently corralled into being there by the Other Avengers, whimpered and shook in terror as they surrounded the stage. Others across the Earth watched their screens in horror.

They were gathered there today to watch an execution.

The execution of hope.

“I know many of you are still feeling a little restless.” The robotic voice called out. “I know you are still holding onto some hope that these pathetic failures of heroes are going to break free and save the day. But they aren’t. They are going to die. And when they do, you will be able to relax at last, secure in the knowledge that there is nothing you can do to stop what comes next. So, you needn’t bother fighting. Needn’t trouble yourself with the false hope that would come of trying.”

The bound Avengers began to struggle, making as much noise as they could, staring out at the crowd, their eyes wide and desperate. ‘Don’t give up’, they were pleading without words. ‘Whatever happens, don’t give up. Keep fighting. We’re sorry. We’re sorry we failed.’

Before the Others could punish this disruption, the crowd shifted, a flurry of commotion as something, someone approached the stage on foot.

The man in the red and blue suit walked onto the stage with his hands raised above his head.

“Hey guys.” He greeted the Other’s meekly.

Ironman made that same almost laughter sound. The other Other’s looked amused.

“Spiderman.” Hawkeye greeted, “You finally made it. Hey you didn’t happen to cross paths with the Spiderman from this world, did you? Should have brought him up here for the final show.”

“Assuming you’re ready to accept our rule at last.” Captain America added.

Spiderman shook his head sadly.

“Please,” He implored, voice sounding tired and resigned, “I know things in our world have been…not good recently…but I…this isn’t the answer…can’t we just talk about this? You don’t have to be like this. You were good. You were heroes. You can go back to how you were. I know you can. Just not here. Can’t we go home and leave this world alone? Please?”

The Others all shared amused glances. The true Avengers all winced in sympathy.

It was sweet, in a way. That this Other Spiderman had apparently avoided the corruption that had overcome the other heroes of his world. That he had bothered to come here, to try to plead for them to stand down, to leave this world alone.

Sweet. But futile.

The True Avengers had been trying to reason with them for days. There was no hope to it.

“Kill him,” Ironman ordered flippantly already turning back towards the machine that would carry out the execution for them. Clean and brutal.

It was so quick.

In the days that followed that is what everyone would remember most.

The whole thing was over so very quick.

Earths mightiest heroes. The strongest of their defenders. Or more accurately, the evil counterparts who were strong enough to have already defeated Earth's strongest defenders.

There was a lot to be said for the element of surprise.

Thor raised his hammer and swung it at Spiderman.

Spiderman dodged the blow and grabbed Thor’s forearm as it was still moving. Holding tight he slammed a front kick at the God’s chest. The arm tore away like a drumstick from a roast chicken. Combined with the total collapse of his chest from the kick, the God of thunder was down for good. Spiderman dropped the arm, hammer still attached.

Chaos followed.

Enraged, Captain America ran forward. Spiderman had wrestled control of the shield from him before anyone even knew what was happening, slamming it into the soldier’s head with a clean crunch. At a speed few could follow, the shield was flying through the air, slicing Black Widow clean in half before coming to a stop lodged half way through Hawkeye’s torso.

A deafening roar announced the presence of the Hulk whose transformation had begun the instant Thor fell. The roar didn’t last long. Spiderman leapt onto the beast’s shoulders and using the open mouth as a hand hold, wrenched its head off from the jaw up.

Perhaps if he hadn’t turned away after issuing his order, Ironman might have had a chance. Perhaps not. As it stood, by the time he registered what was happening and turned back to see his fallen comrades he barely had time to charge his thrusters before Spiderman was launching off of Hulk’s still crumpling corpse and landing on the armoured chest.

He punched his fist into the arc reactor and brought it back out, a spray of blood revealing a mix of reactor and heart in his clenched hand.

From beginning to end, the battle, if it could be called that, lasted less than a minute.

Fifty-seven seconds exactly, they would note later, when the recordings were studied.

In the days, weeks, years that followed that is what everyone would remember most.

It took less than a minute for Spiderman to slaughter the Avengers.

And the whole world watched.

Somewhere in the chaos, this worlds Spiderman had snuck onto the stage and begun to free their Avengers who, like everyone else were frozen in shock, watching the other worlds webslinger. His skin-tight costume was now far redder than it had been when he arrived, the parts that ought to be blue now tacky and wet.

There was a device in his hands and the world watched silent as Other Spiderman opened a portal and begun to collect the bodies, throwing them back into their own world. Nothing but the bloodstains and the memories would remain here. It seemed to take forever. So much longer than the fight had taken, as he walked calmly to each body and body part and dragged it to the portal to be thrown in.

When the clean-up was done Other Spiderman turned to their Spiderman and the now free Avengers standing behind him. “I’m sorry for the harm my world has caused yours.” He told them sadly.

Then he was gone.

The world watched Spiderman turn towards the Avengers, his body shaking in horror but voice calm.

“Whatever went wrong in their world. Don’t let it happen here.” He warned them, “Don’t ever make me do that.”

He swung away.

Peter loved being Spiderman.

Loved the simplicity of it, strange as that may sound.

People like the Avengers, they were larger than life. Bigger and better and grander than the average Joe. Out of reach and out of touch.

Spiderman had somehow avoided all that. Despite all his powers he had always maintained a sense of commonality with the citizens he protected. A solidarity. A comradery.

He was the everyman hero. So much as any metahuman could really be called an everyman.

He was your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman!

There was a familiar rhythm to his brand of hero work.

Swing in.

Deliver a dramatic and witty opening line.

Exchange a few sarcastic quips back and forth with the criminal.

A brief fight where he disarms them and webs them up for the police.

Return the stolen goods to the victim.

Receive thanks from the victim.

Make another sarcastic remark to the criminal.

Swing away.

That was how it went. Before.

The mugger went white as soon as Spiderman arrived, his face frozen in terror.

He dropped the knife he was holding and fell to his knees sobbing.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Oh God I’m so sorry. Please, I’m sorry.”

Peter could only stare as the thief flinched away from him. He was hesitant to even web the man up with how terrified he clearly was.

Even worse than that was the look on the victim’s face. There was no relief at seeing him. No gratitude. Just that same cold terror.

“There is a police station just along the road,” Peter pointed out gently.

Both the mugger and the victim moved together, jogging side by side towards the station, the mugger not even trying to escape, the victim not bothered by the man who had been threatening him with a knife minutes’ before.

Both just eager to be away from Spiderman.

It had been like this for days now. Ever since that day.

Everything had changed, he realised.

He wasn’t the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman anymore.

Wasn’t the cheerful relatable hero on the street who bridged the gap between the common man and the otherworldliness of heroes like the Avengers.

He was the guy who could kill the Avengers in seconds if he needed to.

The world had been watching.

The world had seen what he was really capable of.

And they could never un-see it.

Notes:

I made myself sad. Poor Peter.

Let me know if the tags are ok. I'm always a bit confused about them.