Running Race
Alvin stared at Pietro in disbelief. Then he gave him a hard slap on the back of the head and cursed, "Are you fucking crazy?
Is getting on a plane that hard?"
Pietro clutched the back of his neck and pouted. "Shoes are cheaper than plane tickets. I'm 'Gable's' sneaker tester now, so shoes are dirt cheap.
I only needed five pairs to get here..."
Alvin looked at Pietro, hesitated, then asked, "Buddy, did you tell Bourne you were leaving?"
As he spoke, Alvin glanced at Peter and Harry up ahead, then looked at Pietro, who was clearly unhappy. He figured Frank must be under a lot of pressure at work.
A kid who could cross the most hostile regions on Earth with just five pairs of shoes could drive the entire Punisher's Office insane if he got into trouble.
No wonder Frank looked so awful!
Pietro shrugged. "I left Bourne a note. I want to join the Wolves and beat the aliens.
Usually, I can live with it, but why can't I play when we're fighting aliens?
Peter can play, so I should be able to, too!"
Alvin looked at Pietro, who seemed ready to throw caution to the wind. He was genuinely worried the kid might do something reckless if he couldn't come to terms with it.
After all, Pietro was only trying to earn some recognition. Deliberately pushing him down would easily make him rebel.
Pietro was completely different from Peter. His sense of right and wrong had been shaped in Sokovia, at the orphanage, at the Hydra Base, and by the assassin Bourne.
When he felt isolated or thought nobody needed him, it was easy for him to do something stupid.
To be precise, ever since Pietro had arrived in Hell's Kitchen, he'd been