Sooooooooooooooooooo... how'ya all beeeeeeen?

Hello everybody and welcome back, finally, to Bond's With The Devil Chapter 14!

Jeez its been a long time since I've written that... like over a year infact... Ah. Guess my plan to write a few days later didn't really work out, eh?

First off, I must profusely apologise for my time away. A lot of stuff has happened since the last chapter - I've had multiple sets of exams for multiple important things and I've had to get accustomed to a new college system and try and write new stories and keep other stories up to date (which I didn't do very well either unfortunately) and find a way to just relax and have leisure and then all my systems and writing stuff seemed to stop working, meaning I couldn't even do most of my work for a long time. Soooooooooooo I was basically just proper unlucky. Add in a bunch of writer's block, rewriting this chapter 5, 6 or 7 times! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

Still, I do have to apologise and now I will, I WILL, be updating this more and more regularly alongside my other stories and college work. I've got summer coming up, where I'll literally have nothing apart from writing to do so expect at least a few chapters then!

A few things I have to say before the chapter starts: thank you for all the support you've given his story even in my absence! even though I've been gone, this story has exceeded and shot up to 400+ followers and favourites and people still supported this story in such a long gap so truly, thank you all so much!

Another thing... I have started a (Patr eon). First things first, nothing about fanfiction will be walled off in any way from this, my (Patr eon) is mostly about writing in general, such as tips or commissions or direct writing help or anything like that. The reason why I have created a (Patr eon) is a few reasons: 1. to help with my current situation and daily life - I'm in college now and so life gets a lil' bit trickier, meaning I need a more stable income and money to just help me through the months. I love writing and I love writing fanfiction and other stories , I love giving help and advice and stories that all of you enjoy! its just my dream and what I love doing... however, it doesn't give me a direct income and my current situation doesn't give me a direct and easy way to write without difficulties. Having a (Patr eon) means I can get paid and I can have an income from writing directly, it means I can focus entirely on writing for the foreseeable future and means I can write more and more without focusing on external jobs or things to help me earn money at all - like my laptop and my phone are bust and broken, so the first proper thing I'm going to be using my money for is a laptop so I can write on the go. This the sort of the things I can do with a (Patr eon). You would get benefits from donating of course, yearly commissions, free downloads of stories, writing tips for a wide range of topics from introductions to symbolism to writing characters or fights and plenty of other things. If you want to donate to me because you like my writing on fanfcition, truly thank you so much. If you don't want to, not a problem at all, I hope you continue enjoying my story!

If you want to donate, either follow the link on my bio description (cuz of fanfics link thingy, you'll need to delete the spaces between the link) or type Aniimeziing in the search tab for (Patr eon). Any and all donations are appreciated and I will be eternally grateful and thank you profusely, no matter the size of the donation.

Thank you so much to my (Patr eon)s Angry Henry and Awareness Bringer, you two are really helping me out so much so thank you for all you've done.

And now reviews!

GGBoyKing: Yup! Sorry for the really long wait, I hope you enjoy the longer chapters!

Shawn Desai: Damn thank you so much, truly thats such a nice compliment. Thank you. I hope you enjoy the rest of the chapters to come my friend.

Semi-Functional Eraser: Hehe thank you! I'm glad you like Malice and Peter's relationship.

DaMADDNESS13: Thank you so much! Cuz of the break, I'll try and make the list for next chapter because I've lost track but next chapter the list will be there.

BlackMoon FierceGods 15: Thanks! Hope you enjoy.

TheOneAndOnlyLordMonkeyKnight: Heyyyy good to see you JSun! I hope you enjoy the chapter!

TheDevilZero: Safe

Guest: Hehe and I thank you Guest for your faith.

Incarnate47: Hey man! Been a long while! Sorry I've kept you waiting for so long. Yea the harem is going to be smallish, don't worry. Hmmm as for the Venom ability... perhaps... perhaps my friend.

DuskRider: Thanku!

CosmicSpiderKing: Thank you my friend.

J: Yea I'll give you that. My characterisation of Peter and Tony has been pretty shit now that I'm looking back on my old writing. However, even though Kaine had Peter's memories, he still faced more strife and adversity then Peter when he came into existence and was basically outcast, so there are differences. At the core of himself, no matter how dangerous or brutal he gets, he'll always be Spider-Man and so he'll always take on the responsibility of others onto himself, that's just who he is as a character.

Chimera629: Once again, he's Spider-Man, his character is to take on responsibility even when it's unwarranted. And you do have to remember, he's ust starting out, Peter was pretty similar to this when he started out too so it just takes time and development.

SuperSpartan17: Hehe thanku!

JustAFan: Thanks man! Also I checked out Variant Strain in my time away, its really good actually and I really liked it. Good shout on recommending it, thanks!

Radeisth: To be fair, he didn't know something was crawling inside until he was walking down the corridor, but yeah it was pretty unbelievable. Sometimes however you gotta expend disbelief but I do get this opinion, no worries at all.

Red Core Dragon: Thank you and they will be getting longer.

Birdly The Reaper Of Souls: Thank you so much my friend!

Big Grey Bird: Not anymoreeeeeeeeee.

Luna Lillyth: Thank you! I hope you do enjoy the confrontation.

FantasyConnect: Shussssssssssssh... shush... yea I'm sorry bout dat.

BrianBaltazar45: Your wish is my command!

Guest: Yea but the Avengers were just the easiest people to enter with, he does get more focus later on though.

One Eyed King Kaneki Uchiha: Thank you!

IAmATurkey: Cuz life suuuuuuuucked.

Guest: I'm so sorry! I know I sucked but now I'm back! I hope you enjoy!

Guest: I'm sorry for the wait my friend. I'm gonna try and get my update schedule in check don't worry.

Lord Terronus: Damn... thank you so much man, that means a lot. I hope you enjoy this chapter then, thank you!

Guest: It's here now!

August D Hellsing: I am full of shit. A whole lotta bullshit. Now I'm here though so... yaaaay.

Guest: Thanks!

Guest: I'm really sorry for such the long wait but its here now! I hope you enjoy.

Guest: Yea yea I know, my responsibility is real bad, been using my power wrong. Back now though!

TheSuperMario: Hehe seems like a thing he'd do.

Necros Underworld: Damn thanks. Back now so its not stoppin!

CapNBooth4: Thanks!

Son of Sea 9 Tails: I'm fine! I'm fine don't worry!

Man285: I have upated, it is here!

Ryouta-Ryuujin: DONE!

Doctor Dandy: Fair enough to be honest.

Guest: Jeez seriously thank you so much for your kind words. Truly, thank you. I hope you enjoy this chapter then!

DianiteCat: Heyo! Yea everything's fine don't worry, and thanks!

Atlas: Thank you so much, truly your words mean so much. I'm really happy to continue so I hope you enjoy! Thank you again.

Tom654Tan: Dunno, maybe.

YuryFernandes2001: I've been summoned.

Guest: I am backo!

And now that those have been answered... ITS ONTO CHAPTER 14! YOO!

Enjoy!

The rich hiss of sparks ricocheted around the room.

They spat and festered in deep waves, convulsing and twitching in rapid beats that scratched and clawed at the darkened walls - pulses and beeps of beat up and brutalised machinery shook the room. Their shallow breaths pinged and danced slowly from barrier to barrier, waltzing over each bruised and bloodied body of steel as the slow ticking and impeding peril dawned and washed over their dying corpses. Each breath a soft hum, a quiet lull that poisoned and sat greedily in the sky on a cloud of static- every so often, the gluttonous reach of the noise would weaken and wain, crying in agony and want for another sap of air to suck up before flatlining into a puddle of black nothingness.

To those who would peer upon it, allow their ears to open and listen into the momentous study and ceremony of song, they would assume that this massacre was an automated orchestra, being and battling against itself for the role of conductor: thunderous beat against thunderous beat, rising melody against rising melody into a crescendo of pain and broken duality sings in the pitchy tempo of screams. Each bounce and skip of the rhythm left the pools of oily tar on the floor shake and quake with tainted euphoria, spilling their collapsed souls onto the paint of the pristine flooring.

Shots of orange and flares of yellow rose up in uprising, tearing and rocketing into the air like bullets that sparked and disintegrated into melted pride upon exposure. They illuminated the world, for a brief few seconds, and cast it out of the eclipsing shadow that it was privy to: a sea of radiant orange gave birth to a fleeting monochromatic world of lost embers and singing coals, a city of grey buildings and grey men that sat atop a grey earth.

And sat amongst the droves of bodies, the inky form of Strife sat.

His face, dead and muted to the world, remained shroud in darkness until the few fleeting flakes of light revealed it and drew its aimless appeal to the surface for only the jagged set of piercing white eyes broke through, falling onto the darkness like sheets of cut up snow. A faint and steady drip emerged and flowed from his sharpened fingers, trails of blackness falling and dropping from stained metallic fingertips while his body was poised, sat coiled up and ready to strike anything that approached: all around him, trails of webbing spun and shot out, connecting and conjoining pieces of the room together as parts of broken construct hung suspended like trophies, caged and suffocated in thick layers of webbing that choked out any automated life they once held dear. At the centre of this web sat Strife's unmoving, unflinching form, simply watching the door with bright curiosity and intent.

He was the spider at the centre of this web, dealing with the pests and flies that came near before focusing on his true prey.

That of the ego of Tony Stark.

A faint chill entered in through the shattered window and embraced Peter tightly. It snuck into his soul and quietly approached the ringing in his heart, silencing it with thoughts of revolution and retribution – the very thought of the man that lay somewhere beyond these walls set his frozen blood to boil, burning and searing the cold in his veins. Noiseless shakes and shivers wracked Peter's form as these thoughts of terror and devastation overtook his mind and body completely, tearing and ravaging at the whirlwind brewing inside him with savage rips of skin.

However, taking the first act of movement since this game began, Peter sighed with his heart bouncing and leaping off of his tar dripped rib cage. Similarly, his metal tipped hands coiled and morphed into a fist that left darkness staining his palms as a nauseating path of ruinous calm broke through his chest – heat brokered through the ice, thawing and melting it. He knew that he had already raged at Stark, been distant and border-line psychopathic in his thoughts and that getting angry at him here, where his main goal and objective was negotiation, would leave a sour taste and a bad omen spewing in his gut; even if Stark was worthy of a beating.

Returning to his predatory stance, Peter heard the deep and impeding recluse of his mind stir. It prowled and it pranced, hopping around the blocks and clots of his head, using his stray and deadly thoughts as leverage to swing across the barbaric warzone of Peter's skull. The voice and its movements were sinful and sultry, dripping with lust and desire that soaked the man's tongue in suspension – the light tapping and dragging of alien flesh set his nerves on fire and pumped blood fast and hard through his veins.

Suddenly, the vanishing embrace of dust gripped and clawed at his chest. A small grin emerged from Peter's smothered mouth.

'Hey Malice, you disappeared on me for a while there.'

He felt the grip tighten and begin to almost caress his heated skin.

'Hello Peter. I apologise for my absence.'

'Woah, what's with the formality?'

'You're supposed to be formal at a funeral.'

His smile dropped in mock anguish and false pain as he feigned a sigh and shook his head in disbelief.

'This isn't gonna be a funeral... for me anyway.'

The grip tightened, crumbling into his own fluid form like water: his skin was wet from panic, soaked in worry and dripping with caution. It was almost as if his suit was waterlogged, restricting and slowing down his movement and cementing him into the pristine floor of Stark's home – his feet felt tied down, attached and hanging by thick rope bound around billions of dollars of glistening marble.

And Peter knew why he was drenched.

This entire demeanour, it just resembled Malice's mental condition: she had agreed to his concerns and agreed to his freedom in embarking onwards to the twisting palace of personas that was the Avengers Tower, but even as he was swinging through the concrete melded skyline he could feel the apprehension and the timid cries of a silenced woman shake and rattle at his construct of a body, all kinds of desperate and quaking memories plagued his head. Malice was scared to come here, whether that was for her own fear or Peter's he did not know, but what he could tell is that she was absolutely terrified of... something and was hiding behind the mask of humour to draw attention away from herself. For someone like Peter, whose very essence was now integrated and had faded into the existence of Malice's, he could feel and sense every pin prick and stab that this terror left on his cracking mind.

It was like walking on glass, each and every tip-toe breaking and fragmenting the suspended pieces of sky. However, Peter had an inkling why these waves and this cloud of fog has come over his companion and so he wouldn't poke or probe it anymore then he already had in his head.

For he wished to keep both of their sanitises stable, even if they were just pieces of memory held together by tape and sinew at this point.

'You've been here quite a while Peter and the big bad wolf hasn't come to check on his little pigs. What are you going to do if he doesn't show up to go on his date with Red Riding Hood?'

Glancing across at the windows that adorned the house, Peter was temporarily blinded by the harsh knife wound that was sunlight. The serrated edges slit and nicked his skin with slivers of burning light, exposing the writhing flesh of his breathing suit to the day in a heated glare. It made Peter's hollow eyes narrow: he had been here quite a while and all he'd been sent his way were disposable security bots. He was sure Stark knew he was here, he had to know- he was the Iron Man after all.

Didn't explain his lack of appearance though.

Twisting his scared slit eyes from the harsh brightness, Peter focused returned to the door with the absolute focus of a predator. Meanwhile Malice seemed to shift, the gripping fingers of her palpable being dripping down to grab a hold of his waist and dig her blackened fingernails into his skin: Peter could even swear he could feel the hotness of her breath at his back.

'Well this is why we wait. Wouldn't want to waste the reservation.'

These bubbles of silence had given Peter clarity. A few months ago, his eyes had been wide in awe and his mind full of fantastical fantasies of ideology and principal – all passed down to his fragile form by one Tony Stark. For so long, Peter had idolised the Iron Man, believing that his narcissism and arrogance were excusable due to his intellect and prowess in science and his explorative inquisitiveness in the field of robotics; all of it had been such a wonderful distraction for the young man, tying and trapping his attention onto those of scientific discovery and the marvellous accolades of super heroes.

Now though? Now that he had come face-to-face with the repulsion cannons he longed to tinker with for so long, his faith and the spark he had seen in Stark had died down.

As a scientist, he still had Peter's total respect and adoration. The advancement and the pride he put into the scientific community, the development and skill he displayed while tinkering and engineering his technological marvels never stopped amazing Peter's whirlwind of a mind, while his aid and the work he had committed to be an Avenger, to changing his many destructive ways in the past by using that same technology to help protect people struck a chord within Peter. Even now, he could still feel the intent behind the mans actions, how he was fuelled by a need for protection and to aid those of this fair city, with his intentions only slightly tinted by the harsh burn of vengeance.

However, that heat had still left a mark, and it was a mark that hadn't left Peter's skin untouched.

Suddenly, the heavy clunk of metal shifted from the doorway and the tearing of threads shot through Peter's head.

Glancing up, the screeching of contorted steel scratched and tore at the floor, tiny sparks continuing to flick in the darkness ahead of his body, as the heavy corpse of one of Stark's many robots was shifted from its prone position beside the door. In addition, the faint sight of interlocked and spun webs snapping and collapsing to the floor alerted Peter to the slight movement of the framework, allowing the crestfallen black webbing trail amongst the floorboards as a path for the wandering soul just behind that door.

Cautiously, Strife let out a harsh chuckle.

'Well well well, looks like you didn't get stood up Peter.'

'Yea... wish me luck then.'

'Here's hoping you get some.'

Smirking, Strife's content grin remained on his face even as the faint blue hue broke through the darkened hallway and into the web – alongside the larger crackling sphere, a second smaller one quickly rose up, roaring to life with a faint shock that rocketed around the room.

There, Tony Stark stood with a shadowed glare and a raised gauntlet towards his predator's direction.

"You're late, missed the appetiser unfortunately."

Through the brief breaks and shards of splintered light, Strife was able to analyse and inspect that worn contours of the inventor's face: his skin had thinned, sucking harshly on the taunt cheekbones that lay there, while miles and miles of purple hills rolled under his tired eyes, specks of soot and oil parading through the stained grasslands. His eyes themselves appeared dead, drained and soulless as they lay stagnant inside his swollen skull and his hair was matted and coated in a thick layer of sweat and bloody conquest. However, the poignant stance of a grin rose up amongst his rolling layers, great amusement in the shallow upturn of his cracking lips.

"Oh yea? Damn shame, what'd they serve?"

Sucking on his lipless jaws, Strife let lose his uncoiling Lovecraftian maw unto the room: threads and layers of silky alien flesh unravelled onto his face and the floor, mounds and piles of liquid meat pooling below his feet and crystallising into thick peaks of bone atop his hollowed face. Each segment recoiled and ate another, writhing and slamming into itself as stars devoured stars, voids kissed voids, the rolling hills of the cosmos exploding outwards from within his monstrous body. Strife's very presence muted the world, robbed it of its meaning and existence while absorbing and drowning in his bounty of stars – to someone like Tony, it was just a beautiful catastrophe that he was well too aware of.

As the demonic body of the symbiote finalised its metamorphosis, cracking and snapping its ideology onto the hosts well-worn shoulders, Tony shuddered naught for a second as the lumbering shadow of a formless beast encroached upon his position. Up until now, every encounter had been through glass, through metal and manufactured eyes that tainted the image of the creature into one of disturbed physicality – now, he stood face to face with a creation of the night, unfiltered by the guile of its beholders or the shackles of mans own warped eyes. No… now the scientist could peer over every bulging patch of warring skin, every chord and cable of stripped black bone, every second of lost time to the obsessive devastation of this monsters shattered visage, every gaping piece of un-swallowed tooth or nail or grit that struck out and collided into the man like a bullet.

Stark was forced to look upon his doubt and forgo his grimoire of heartlessness. He was forced to be human once more, robbed of intellect by this devourer, this all-consuming life form, this fiery war that raged against him.

This strife.

A gruff, feral tone broke open his time piece and conjured him back to reality.

"Calamari surprisingly."

The shifting of dull metal across the floor caught Tony's brief attention. Before Strife's feet, the cut and flayed bodies of his mechs lay battle worn, tentacles of spluttering darkness wormed and spasmed on the ground, ink jutting and leaking unceremoniously into a moat around the towering castles of the universe and technology. One brief glance towards the towering form of his aggressor. One brief glance towards the pile of desecrated mechanical corpses. One brief glance towards the aggressor.

Then Stark bolted.

Dashing forwards, streaks of neon trailing and encircling his blurring body, the Iron Man tensed his heavy gauntlet. He felt it roar to life with a fierce hum, shockwaves and ripples ricocheting through his skin as his sweat and blood slicked the shiny metal frame, a decadent spray shooting out from the swing of the machinery. Gritting down into the floor, Stark took attempted a blow towards Strife, the momentum of his straining muscles carrying him forth.

In response, the formless eyes of the symbiote splintered, curving and contorting around the imaginary dips of his face before the long black snake of a tongue jutted viciously out of his mouth with a snarl, saliva collapsing to the ground. As Stark neared, Strife ducked effortlessly under his blow, pouncing unto the wettened floor and prancing around the lesser abled man – before the blow could reach velocity, it was caught and diverted, long bony claws shooting out to shatter the illusion of power the Avenger held and pulled his entire puppeteered body forwards. Clumsily, he stumbled and tripped over his metallic laced string, slamming into a wall that exploded with bluish, almost arcane-like energy: it illuminated the room with an intrusive flash, cyan igniting darkness leaving it screaming in anguished revolt while debris fell like a cloak among Stark's prone form.

Pulling himself from his delusions, Stark brewed a thick glob of crimson and spun it towards the floor, watching gracefully as it hit the marble and fragmented like a watery grenade. From his stagnant position he could hear the faint footfalls of Strife. He was being stalked, followed and preyed upon by a wild beast, a wolf in sheep's clothing that had come here to end his artificial regime. Dangerously, he let out a taunt.

"Ah damn! And that was my favourite wall too!"

Then, relentlessly, he kicked off the wounded wall and allowed the weighted grasp of his weaponry to carry himself forwards. Sunlight and the bustling voice of the city hadn't correctly hit Stark's building yet, leaving it distant in a sea of dark. Dashing through this darkness, another explosion of blue crackled amongst the black – a crackle that showcased the empty devastation of the room, its deafening silence permeating his distraught mindset, its empty presence clawing at his mind. Strife was gone. Then, another spark with another step. A quick blur in the darkness. A final drastic draining ignition of light followed the final slam of Stark's fist into the marble. In the brief second of light, Stark saw Strife, his toothy maw morphed by dedication and malice, his shadow stretching out and even commanding the light to shrivel up, his eyes somehow focused and pinpointed on the weakened man.

Then the light faded.

Without even a threat of exertion, Stark had the air stolen from his lungs. A blackened fist careened into his squishy stomach, and even from the brief shock of connection he could feel his blood rising and falling, encircling and pooling to his torso, before he was sent to the skyline. The impact was quick, clean, concise: even the breaking and snapping of Stark's sinew were surgical and professional.

As the fall began to come to the Iron Man, he was caught by the imaginary. Slick spongy wetness collided harshly into his chest and arms, squirming and slithering over his frozen body, held entirely in static. Peeking out from his battered body was all Stark could do. What he saw before him, was Strife once more. Although, now he seemed withdrawn, peaceful: he was no longer lording over the bodies of his kills, skittering around in the dark or preying upon a hapless creature – now, he was just standing there, flipping tongue coiling and darting out before his jaws as he glared at the man in front of him. It was at this point where Stark felt the gravity shift, the weightless pull of natural fibres and a quick glance down revealed the thick, taught black webbing that emerged across his entire form. Another check revealed his gauntlet wrapped up in a sparking mess of haphazard darkness.

He was trapped.

"I didn't come here to fight Stark."

A brief chuckle.

"Then why am I bleeding and hanging from the ceiling, huh?"

"You tried to hit me first."

"Touché."

Looking at Strife as he spoke, Tony noticed the stillness in his voice and his skin, his body not shifting even ever slightly and instead remaining stuck and frozen, as if he had been trapped in his alien form and abandoned by the current world he existed upon. Relenting, he gave in to the statue man.

"What do you want then? You here to give yourself in?"

Deep inside himself, he knew he wasn't here for that. In fact, he knew of how much he had fucked up himself over the last month. He had gone from the New York's protector to the man who had been wreaking havoc simply to take on one man. However, at the same time, his mindset still held strong – the symbiote was dangerous, it was a creature that could enslave and dominate, control and rule over the victim's mind and force them into acts of unspeakable evil and tyranny, and as someone who has seen the destruction first hand Tony knew the threat it posed. Flashes and sparks of memory over ruled him constantly, images of his comrades being taken over by this suit of flesh and spun around like a puppet, strings and masters swapping constantly yet they had all been taught by the same ideology and all knew how to hurt the same: it broke minds and fragmented personality, scattering pieces of themselves across the vast pools of stars that seemed to dwell within the symbiote itself and allowed these abandoned pieces to ferment and fester in a world robbed of light. That was what the symbiote stood for.

That was what he stood against.

Even now, when revealed to the personality of the host and the back and forth banter of the two, his will remained iron clad. The symbiote was dangerous and even if the one who controlled it wasn't, he had been privy to the actions of other savants and other geniuses that had ruled over creation or death long enough to constitute rent but not ownership… he himself, had fallen to this fact. And that was why he had to subdue this now, why he had been trying so hard. Sacrifices unfortunately have to made sometimes: he just hoped he could balance the scales in this case.

Strife remained silent while Tony battled himself and his wits, seeming to be waring with himself simultaneously.

"I… I want a chance."

This caught the Iron Man off guard. Breaking him out of his stupor, he looked up at the symbiotes face, with his teeth now recoiled back into his labyrinthian mouth and a thin sheet of suffocation replacing it. Somehow it made him look softer, more innocent and freeing… someone being greeted by their elder or their better.

Strife continued onwards.

"We've both fucked up in the last month. I've just sat back and tried to be a hero for the people, taking on everything and everyone that I could just to, I don't know, get a glimpse of freedom. I've just allowed you to send wave after wave of robots after me daily: surely after the first or second time you would've realised they couldn't beat me and yet they were still sent out. You neglected your heroism and I neglected my pride."

Shoving himself off his frozen feet, Strife moved to face the stagnant, webbed up man. Now, eye to eye, there was a common humanity in both features in both men – one was a man cloaked in shadows, the other a man barricaded by iron, yet they both held the fires of rebellion and uprising within them, the shallow waves and tides of realisation and fear swamped and soaked their forms. They were both Heroes… yet they were both the villain to the others story.

"You've surely seen the impact that we've had right? That bullshit with the bridge yesterday? The multiple street brawls and traffic fights that could've just lead to damage and death if we had dodged the wrong way or fired at a different position – New York's fragile, man, and yet we treated it like its made of steel! I don't know your past with the symbiote, I don't anything and you don't anything to do with me or my head… we're both just two people making assumptions and the people down there, down on the street, are suffering for those assumptions."

Now, the bright lights of dormant city began to awaken, the orange glow of an axed sun baring down on the concrete jungle. A wave and a crash of relief that felt familiar to Peter spread through his body, lighting up every one of his cells and alienated flesh with a cooled breeze of sunlight – this was a dawn that he had been waiting for, a dawn that would elicit the change and the truth in the community, within New York. Or so he hoped.

"I'll work with whoever you want. However- "

Glancing back towards Stark, he saw a muted face with a muted expression.

A face he deemed he was going to change.

"You leave me my part: alright Tin Man?"

And done! I hope you all enjoyed that! Next chapter, the confrontation will continue further and Peter will have time to come to a conclusion on his Hero life and those he's interacting with, meeting some familiar faces along with that. I know this one was kinda short and I apologise for that but this was a good stopping point for this chapter and elads pretty well into the next one.

So thanks again for reading, I thank you for sticking around for so long, if you want to donate to my (Patr eon) then follow the link on my bio once again - it would mean so much to me and I would be eternally grateful for all the help you would be giving me.

Thanks to Angry Henry and Awareness Bringer once more.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter of Bonds, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and I'll see you next time~!

See ya!

-Jack