In all honesty, I had no idea how I had ended up in this place. I really, really didn't. I had been swinging through the air, thinking about schoolwork and how quiet tonight had been.

And now? I was waking up with a headache, head fuzzy and eyes unfocused.

I blinked a few times, trying to clear my vision. I went to rub my eyes when-

Clink. My spider-sense sent a shiver down my spine. I looked to the side. My… arm was tied up? That definitely had me paying attention. A long string of chains was wrapped around my arm, attached to my wrist by a thick piece of some metal. Don't ask me what kind. It almost looked like whoever had done this was trying to impersonate a stereotypical dungeon setting with this get up. I would have laughed, if fear hadn't choked it back.

I took a few deep breaths. Already, stay calm, I've just gotta assess what the hell is going on. So I was tied down by the arms, and those chains were so short my arms were forced to stay level. What about my legs?

I looked down and found myself on my knees. Ah, that would explain why my ankles were throwing such a fit. I shifted uncomfortably to the side, trying to get a better look. Huh. They had put metal around not only my calfs, but my thighs too. After a moment of hesitation, I braced myself and tried pulling my legs apart.

Ow! Ow! No, that just made it dig in. What the hell kind of metal were they using? I shouldn't have skipped leg day...

Ok, ok. That was fine. I could deal with that. If I can't get my legs free, I should be at least able to break the chain. I'll figure out what comes next after that. One step at a time.

Three, two, one... I pulled my arms inwards, trying to wrench it out of the walls. Before I could get any further than an inch, a crippling wave from my spider-sense left me paralysed in place, like my body had frozen up in shock. A migraine throbbed behind my eyes, leaving me panting. Ow… what the hell? I gave the chain a light tug again, only to get a similar flash of pain, forcing a yelp out of me.

Why was it acting up like this?

I looked up at the ceiling. Maybe… maybe it was because it was connected to the building's structure? That would make sense, I guess. The whole thing with the spider-sense was to warn me of danger, right? So I guess that had to be it.

I shifted uneasily, trying my best to ignore my legs. Being on your knees wasn't exactly the most comfortable position in the world. It was pretty awkward, to be honest.

Well, at least I was on wood flooring instead of brick? Whoever had done the kidnapping had made it at least a bit more inviting than a dungeon. The walls were brick, but it looked like this place had been recently built because they were a clean, fresh red.

Double bonus, I still had my full costume on!

What about my powers though? Maybe they had suppressed some? I looked to my hand and willed it to camouflage. It flickered briefly - as it always did - before my hand was gone from sight. Welp, nope, looked like that was fine, too.

So, think. I can't use my strength to get out of here, camouflaging wouldn't exactly do anything and I was too far away from any walls to try sticking to them - not to mention I couldn't exactly move all that far since the chains holding my arms were pulled fairly tight.

What if… I did a small venom strike? It had loosened up the webs when I had been stuck a year ago. It was worth a shot.

Three, two, one…

I watched the venom strike travel up my arm, into the metal and then it bounced back. A firey pain seized my body and I bit my lip in an attempt to smother my scream. It hurt like hell! I suddenly felt so much more sorry for all the petty criminals I had ever used this on.

I blinked the stars out of my eyes. I felt so much more tired all of a sudden. My muscles were still screaming at me for their mistreatment.

Yeah, let's put a solid red mark through that and never think of it again.

The first goon came in with a needle in one hand, scissors in the other and a smirk smeared across his face. It made him look so punchable, like I really just wanted to break his nose. Alas, I didn't have enough room in the chain to even try. Maybe I could headbutt him?

"Hey bug, having fun?" He asked in a sickly sweet tone.

I rolled my eyes, "And who are you, dick for brains? Gonna tell all about how you guys are 'totally right' and 'join us!'"

Dick-for-brains grinned wider, "No, but you will be a useful tool for us."

He snagged my arm, just above the elbow. Instinctively I tried to bite him, but my other arm wrenched me back into place. I couldn't reach that far! Crap!

"Ha! You should learn your place, bug eye. Now stay still..." He put down the needle (oh god, that was so unsanitary) and snagged my suit. Before I could even protest, he had torn a chunk of my costume out.

"You asshole," I hissed, sheer shock dragging the words out of my mouth.

"An asshole who's got you tied up. Now relax, it'll hurt less if you do," he told me, picking up the needle once again and aiming it at my elbow.

I stiffened. I had never been a fan of needles, to be honest. I hadn't been the crying type… but I had made my Mum or Dad drag me in. I was a literal dead weight, and the older I got the more effective it was.

"What the hell," the goon muttered. He lifted the needle back out of my skin, and before my horrified eyes, he tried to stab it back in. I winced away. "Are you doing this on purpose you little brat?!"

"Doing what?" I asked through gritted teeth.

He did it again, pulling out and stabbing me again. He didn't answer. There was a small pause before he ripped the needle out again. He then whacked me over the head for good measure. "This isn't the end of this!"

He grabbed his stuff and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

I blinked a few times. Uh, well, that was a thing that happened. I watched a small bubble of blood drip down my elbow, but I didn't bleed any more.

Cue days of this routine. Every day got worse and worse, more needles, more stabbing as they tried to get to my veins, more toddler tantrums as they were unsuccessful before leaving me alone in the room. It also got more painful, too, since they just buried the needles into the same spots. I have never seen my elbows so… dark before. It made me look so much paler in comparison. It looked weird.

But they gave up.

For maybe a couple of days until they tried to get the blood from elsewhere. Every joint at this point was dotted with bruises. But still no blood. Then they tried to get sneakier.

I was catching some uneasy rest when my spider-sense flared up, my hand twitching weakly in response. I lifted my head up, my head feeling so heavy that even that much work left me tired.

There was a new goon, frozen in place with a needle she carelessly held.

"You were asleep," she whispered.

"Was. The bedding here ain't exactly comfortable, I want to put in a complaint," I croaked back.

She rolled her eyes, went about trying to get my blood and eventually gave up for the day. I let my head sag down.

The worst thing about this place was that I didn't know how long I had been here. Maybe it had been a week, maybe it had been two months. The days dragged into each other, which wasn't helped by how tired I felt. I simulationaly felt exhausted and on edge.

I didn't know when I would give in. I had to soon. I was starving, physically feeling sick to the stomach and cramping with the worst pain I had probably ever experienced. Weirdly, after a few days I didn't even feel hungry anymore. I desperately needed food, I knew, but I just wasn't.

The only relief I got from my cramps was the occasional drink of water they gave me. They poured it over my mask, sending some of the precious liquid cascading onto the floor. I wasn't going to give them an inch. They would take a mile if I did.

Torture sucked. I was utterly exhausted.

Was my secret identity really worth this effort? I wish I knew. But my options were dwindling, fast. No one would rescue me, and even if I did give up my identity, there was no way they would let me go.

There was no winning here.

Maybe I would just end up dying. Nothing like the blaze of glory my Peter had gone down in. But the what if's were getting harder to think of. I just wanted to sleep.

Then they tried to threaten me.

"Are you going to give it up, or are we going to force your hand?" The goon of the day asked, bending down to hover at my eye-line.

I let my head hang. I didn't want to look up at him. It wasn't worth the effort.

"No? It's your blood or your mask, your choice." He stood back up, shuffling his feet as he paced in front of me.

Again, I didn't bother to answer. If I gave them my blood, who knows what the hell they would do with it? Super soldiers? Probably super soldiers. Or clones. I didn't want to fight clones of myself, that would be a headache.

And I would love to see them try to take off my mask. My stickiness wasn't just in my fingers. I may be getting weaker but that was one thing I knew I could do even half-dead.

The goon crouched again, grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at him. I resisted the urge to cringe away - or maybe try to bite him. "Eventually, your hunger will take more precedence over the secret beneath this flimsy thing. Not long now and you'll give up. Your… city," he spat out the word like it was a stain on his shoe he couldn't get out, "needs you."

"And your boss needs a better hobby," I said, voice croaking.

The goon grinned down at me, "I'll pass that on for you, I'm sure he'll be honoured by the compliment."

This time, the goon brought a chair.

"Come to your senses yet? This is your final day. Give up your blood, or the mask goes," he told me matter-of-factly, crossing his legs and leaning back in the seat.

I shook my head slowly. I had some reserves left, however small. I could show my protest in this way.

"If you give us your blood, we'll let you go. This whole thing could have been over with ages ago, but you super-heroes never know how to pick your battles."

What a joke, they wouldn't let me go. And not picking my battles? Please, this was winning a war before it started. I didn't want to fight a clone.

I didn't voice this though. My throat was so dry and sticky every word felt like it left blood. It was super painful.

The goon reached forward, plucking at a loose bit of mask. "We could have taken this off at any point, but we thought we would give you some dignity. Nevertheless, that was pointless. You've been so fruitlessly stubborn. Think about this, Spider-man."

I shifted my shoulders, releasing some of the strain on my muscles before going still again.

I would like to see them try.

"This will be your downfall. We'll leave your body hanging from a bridge once your body gives in. What a way to go, so unfitting for a young 'hero' like you. No blaze of glory, just a lone body for some poor bystander to find…" he murmured absently, leaning his head on his fist.

This guy was all talk. Hopefully.

"No words? Cat got your tongue? I would have thought a hero who followed in Peter's footsteps would have more to say? Tsk, tsk. Can't even do that right."

I looked up at him. Was he... serious? Was he actually serious right now? I had had nothing to drink in a day or so, I'm starving to death and he somehow thinks I'm worrying about whether or not Peter would approve of how much I was talking.

Even if talking didn't hurt as bad as it did, I would be utterly speechless.

"No? Still nothing? What a shame. Next time we come in, you'd better have an answer," he told me, standing up leisurely and strolling out. I made sure to give him the finger.

I wasn't giving them either result, see how they did with that.

They set up the camera maybe a few hours later. It made my stomach drop in dread. Who would they send the footage to? Would it be live-streamed?

But maybe they were bluffing. They had to be bluffing. Surely they knew it wouldn't be as simple as just taking off my mask?

The making-this-building-collapse idea was sounding better and better, not gonna lie.

But I wouldn't give up my blood. Even if it killed me. If I wasn't around to stop whatever abomination they made, New York wouldn't be able to handle it. I wouldn't be able to stop them, not for a long time. I doubt I would be able to fight anyone for awhile, even if I was let out today. I was pretty weak and hungry.

So, I would win this war before it started.

I mean, if I was going to die anyway, my secret identity wouldn't matter all that much. But there weren't other heroes so really, not giving them my blood was doing the whole self-sacrificing thing. That doesn't mean I'll give up my mask without a fight though, just means I have my priorities in order. Right?

Eventually, a group of three goons wandered in, shutting the door behind them.

One went behind the camera and started fiddling with it, one came over to me and double checked the chains, and the last one gave me a drink of water. Guess they might want me to say a few things? I wasn't dumb enough to refuse the water. I was basically surviving off of water at this point.

"Alright, got the scissors?" Camera goon asked Chain goon.

Chain goon held up the scissors. "I've got them. Hey Darryl, you ready?"

Darryl, the Water goon, nodded. "Yep! This'll be easy."

Camera goon stepped out from behind the camera, "Spidey, this is your last chance. If you don't give us some of your blood, we'll take off your mask and show the whole world who you are."

I kept my mouth shut.

Chain goon shook his head, "You made this so much harder on yourself."

Camera goon went back to the camera, his finger hovering over the start button. "Alright, you had your chance. Now three, two… one, and we're streaming to the whole of New York! Say hi Spidey!"

I kept my head down, just breathing slowly and steadily. Give them nothing, get ready, don't panic.

"Not got much to say, huh?" Darryl said from beside me. "That's fine. Well, New York! Been wondering where your precious hero is? He's been right here with us all along. And he refuses to cooperate with us. So we have a surprise for all of you."

Darryl grabbed my head, tipping it back for a better angle while Chain goon grabbed at the bottom of my mask. I closed my eyes and concentrated as hard as I could.

Don't let it go.

Keep ahold of your mask.

Give them nothing.

"What the hell.. he's sticking to his mask!" Chain goon yelled.

"He'll give up! Keep trying." Camera goon hissed back.

I shut my eyes even tighter as Chain goon began scratching at the edge, digging his nails into my skin, trying to grab onto something.

Don't let go.

Keep ahold of your mask.

Give them nothing!

"I've got an idea," Darryl said. And then he grabbed my chin, shut my mouth and pinched at my nose.

Oh god.

I couldn't breathe!

Panic gripped my stomach and I began struggling uselessly to buck Darryl off. He stubbornly held on.

Don't let go!

Keep ahold of the mask!

Give them nothing!

The edges of my vision began to rapidly fade. I was too weak to put up much of a fight. I couldn't, it was physically impossible.

The scissors got under my mask, the metal bitterly cold against my skin. And snipped, and snipped, and then my face was visible for the first time in weeks.

Darryl finally let go and I was able to breathe again. I sucked in air like I was a starving man, but ending up coughing and hacking most of it back out anyway.

I tried camouflaging, but I was too exhausted and in too much pain. It was too late. My face was visible to the camera, and possibly the world.

I had failed.

I didn't think I had enough water in my system to cry, but I was wrong. Tears streamed down my face. I had lost.

Chain goon grabbed my face and lifted it so the camera got a better view. If I had the energy, I would have bitten his hand. I kept panting for air, instead. "And now everyone knows. What a shame."

Darryl and Chain goon got up and walked out of the room. Camera goon just smirked at me, "I'm sure New York loves the view. I'll let them stare at it for awhile longer."

And then he left too. It was just me and the camera in the room.

I let my head hang.

What would Mum and Dad think? Now they knew. They knew I had been lying to them for almost a whole year about where I had been going. Now I had been missing for maybe a month and this is how they find out.

All of the people watching could see me crying. It was humiliating! I hated it! One moment of weakness and now…

Now I was a failed superhero. As simple as that.

I should have let myself pass out before letting them take my mask off.

"Whoever's watching," I said, voice louder than anything I had said in ages, lifting my head up so the camera could see me, "k-keep my family safe. Please."

I put my head back down as sobs tore their way out of my throat. A flood of fear and helplessness finally let out, the dam that had held it all back useless. I had tried so hard to give these goons nothing, but look at where I was now.

Cold, starving, exposed to the world and so sore I was numb.

Maybe I would die, too, under the eyes of New York.