— look, presumably they were evacuating the area, if Doctor Octopus is announcing his intention to bomb the Met it is not that weird to evacuate office buildings around the Met — 

 He goes very very still. 

—well, fuck, how is he supposed to get up there?

(Also, wow, having his internal monologue in the third person is weird.)

Deathtrap Type #2 is a classic. Someone has been paying more attention in English class than Sasha has. 

Sasha's wrists and ankles are cuffed to a slab; the cuffs are Chitauri tech and he can't break out of them. A razor-sharp pendulum is moving back and forth, gradually getting closer and closer to Sasha's belly. 

He's pretty sure they don't teach this in English class. 

He shrinks backwards against the slab — it's not much more time but even a couple of seconds counts — and then goes back to holding still. 

Why! Does this building! Have so many stairs!

The pendulum explodes. 

"Not a very original death trap design. Villains these days think they can rip off Poe and nobody will notice because obviously no one has ever read a book published before 1900--"

Someone bursts out of the stairwell.

“Fuck these fucking stairs—”

“—Oh. Beat me to it, huh.”

He flinches back from the explosion, turns his face away from any bits of razor-sharp pendulum that might go flying. 

When several seconds go by and he is not in fact being cut by bits of razor-sharp pendulum, he turns back, opens his eyes. 

The facemask opens and a face from the cover of a magazine is grinning at him. 

"Spidey! Always a pleasure to see you tied up."

"I'll have to show you again some time," is the first set of words that pops into his head. 

"Under more recreational circumstances!" he agrees. After briefly examining the cuffs, he says, "crap, those are well-made. I'm going to fly Deadpool down to handle Dr. Dream of the Fisherman's Wife over there and then I'll see about getting you unlocked."

“Aww, don’t I get to stick around for the bondage?”

"Later, sweetheart." He throws Deadpool over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. 

He tries to make himself breathe more normally. 

(The death trap is gone, his parents aren't going to have to wonder where their son is because he's going to get to go home —) 

Aww. Poor kid.

He waves goodbye as he’s carried off.

“Bye, Spidey! Love your work!”

Okay, that makes him laugh. He'd wave back, but: handcuffs. 

"I've turned over this whole pacifist leaf," Asher says, "but I used to go to the Met with my dad when I was a kid. So I am going to drop you off with your giant-ass guns and when I get back I expect you to claim it was self-defense, okay?"

He winks. Which isn’t actually visible through the mask, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Gotcha. Doc shot first.”

Doc Ock is, in fact, on top of the building, preparing to enter and deliver his dramatic monologue about Spiderman's demise. 

Asher puts Deadpool on the ground and takes off. "Fuck his shit up for me."

“You got it, hot stuff.”

He levels one of his pistols at the back of Doc Ock’s neck and fires.

Doc Ock dodges the bullet and says something about how Deadpool will never stop him. 

And Asher goes back in through the window. 

"Spidey, my love, I am heartbroken, absolutely wretched, about the time we spent apart."

"I pined at the window," he says, and flexes his fingers. "Am I going to get out of these handcuffs?"