Chapter Text
He was four years old, with bunch of other four years olds. Peter wanted his parents, he wanted his mama. But they were gone, Peter saw the blood coming from their foreheads. A bunch of masked men took him, got him medically examinated and threw him here. Most of the kids were crying, he was barely holding himself back. He had nobody left to run at him if he cries.
A parkour was right in front of them. A masked mam explained them about the parkour and sent them one by one. Peter watched as the other's ran, he observed their mistakes and tried to learn from them. When it was his turn, he took a deep breath and did his best. He didn't know what this was for, but he did it anyway. He was always up for a competition, he was always playing to win.
When all of them finished the parkour, which took a bit long since there were 50 kids, masked men checked their times ans Peter was the winner. Then they heard ten loud noises. Peter turned around and looked at where did the voice came from. Masked men had guns in hands, ten of the kids were down. They got dragged outside. So that's what happens to losers. Kids cried harder, Peter just stared at the red liquid on the floor. It looked like strawberry jam. He was starting to get hungry.
Masked men lead them to cages. Peter sat on the floor and examined other kids, girls and boys, most of them were, crying but there was no use. Their parents were gone, just like Peter's parents, sleeping forever. Nobody will answer their cries.
The next day, masked men came and lead them to the parkour room again. This time, a different parkour was there, at the end of the parkour there was a target dummy and toy guns. Masked men explained them how it happens and what they should do.
They did it all. Peter wasn't the best this time, bur he wasn't the last 10 anyway. He learned that he can survive as long as he is not a loser, he decided to save his energy for the last day's competition.
It was the very fifth day of the competition, only ten kids were left. They showed them a new parkour with moving targets this time. Peter had to do his best, he would. He ran, jumped, ducked and kept running. He came to the end, took the gun and took a deep breath. He could do that. He only had to shoot three moving targets. He missed one but managed to hit two of them. He was the winner, the best score. Other nine died.
"You will be the perfect Spyder." A masked man said, lead him to a different place this time. When he reached to a tiny room with a single toilet in it and nothing else, he looked around. A man was there, standing tall and strong even though he looked all empty and soulless. The masked man left him in the tiny room with that creepy man, locked the door behind him.
"Woa, you have a metal arm? So cool!" Peter said as he examined that man's left arm. The man looked down at the tiny Peter who is now examining his arm.
"You shouldn't show emotions. You will learn soon." The man said tiredly.
"But why not?" Peter asked curiously, looked up to the giant man. "Emotions are cute." He couldn't even pronounce 'emotions' but neither of them didn't care. The man looked pained at that, he knew what would happen to that kid and not being able to stop it pained him.