Skeptics and Dupes

As soon as school let out, Peter headed straight for Stark Tower. In his pocket, he fidgeted with a now-crumpled paper covered in just about every bit of info he’d gathered on the weird vigilante. He couldn’t help but be nervous, even though he’d slowly become more involved with Mr. Stark in the past few weeks, because… well, it was Mr. Stark. Ironman, if you will. One of the Avengers, you could say. Perhaps. No big deal though, of course. Asking him for help is no different from asking Mr. Arnold for help with his English homework. Keep telling yourself that, Peter. 

He walked into the lobby that was slowly becoming familiar enough that no one questioned him on entry. Well, it was supposed to be. Looking around as he headed to the elevator, he saw people casting strange looks in his direction like he’d never stepped in there before. He was almost worried until he sensed someone walking right behind him; they were probably looking at whoever that was, he assured himself. Still, he subconsciously tried taming his wind-blown hair just in case they weren’t. 

He stepped into the elevator and clicked the button for the lowest floor, because at this point he’d learned that Mr. Stark was never in his office. He’d just be in his basement workshop, tinkering away and completely forgetting that he’s the head of one of the most prolific technology companies in America. 

The other person came in just behind him, hitting the button for the second lowest floor. Also going to a workshop? He didn’t face them, not wanting to make it awkward, but looked at them out of his peripheral. They didn’t seem familiar– new guy? When a pair of sharp, gold eyes immediately met his gaze, he had to keep himself from flinching away and apologizing for staring. The cold glare suddenly morphed into something that could have been seen as friendliness. It… it didn’t look natural on that guy’s face. 

“Ah,” he said, turning towards Peter. “You’re the other intern I’ve heard about, aren’t you?” 

“Oh– well,” he started, taken by surprise, “there are well over 20 interns here… but I’m the coolest so I probably am.” Peter looked him up and down. Long blonde hair tied back in a mess of a ponytail, black sweatshirt under a clunky maroon coat, backpack slung over one shoulder, and absolutely abysmal posture that only made him look shorter than he already was. Yup. That was a high schooler if he’d ever seen one. Or maybe just a very tired middle schooler; he was reallyshort for a high schooler. Like– really, really short. This poor guy did not drink enough milk when he was a kid. “I’m guessing you’re a new intern?” 

“Yup,” he confirmed with a casual smile, which suddenly dropped off his face when he clearly had an internal realization. “Ah, shit– they mailed me an I.D. I need that, don’t I?” Halfway through the sentence, he’d started rummaging frantically through his pockets as Peter tried not to laugh. Strangely enough, even when he started searching the pockets on his right side, he only used his left arm. His right stayed still as a statue, hand in his coat pocket. Before he could ponder that, the guy triumphantly grabbed an I.D. out of his inner jacket pocket and clipped it on his jacket. When Peter squinted, he could read “Edward Elric.”

“So you’re Edward, I take it?” 

“Oh, please, call me Ed.” He reached out a hand– the left one, he noted–which Peter took despite the odd formality. Maybe he thought he had some kind of authority over other interns? Or maybe he was just raised by his very formal grandparents, who knows. “You’re the spider guy, right? Oh, what did he say your name was– Patrick?” 

Peter could feel his stomach drop through the floor. He pushed the rage out of his mind at the idea that someone thought he looked like a Patrick in favor of internally panicking. How on earth did this guy know that he was Spider-Man? He presumably met him for the first time about 45 seconds ago. He’d been Spider-Man in the same house as Aunt May for at least a year and she hadn’t found out yet. Either this guy was Sherlock Holmes himself or someone else found out and told him. When Ed saw his reaction, he laughed, which did not help Peter’s perception of him. 

“Oh, don’t worry, you’re not alone,” Ed assured with a wave of his hand. “I’ve got something like that too– I’m a big engineering guy. Or I guess you could technically call it robotics? But I think your biology interest is really cool, I’d like to hea–” 

His sentence was cut off by the ding of the elevator as the doors slid open, revealing a workshop with Rhodes and a scientist mid-conversation. 

“Ah, this is my stop,” Ed declared, apparently entirely unaware of the way surprise marred Peter’s face, “but I hope I’ll see you later.” And the mysterious blonde was gone as quick as he came, leaving Peter to comprehend what the fuck just happened. 

‘I’ve got something like that too’...

Did that mean… he was a vigilante too? 

Peter’s head swam, and he leaned on the side of the elevator. He could almost feel the paper in his pocket burning through the fabric, trying to get his attention. Ed said something about robotics, right? The vigilante he was following around certainly sounded like it could have been a robot. He raked a hand over his face, trying to comprehend that he might’ve been following around a robot the whole time. And also that the robot might’ve been made by a random teenager who happens to have an internship at the place Peter pretends to have an internship at. And also the teenager somehow found out that he was Spider-Man. God, he was going to have a headache. 

____________________

Ed almost didn’t notice the other people in the room. 

He was way too busy digesting every little detail of the room with his eyes, taking in the workshop of his dreams. Logically, he knew that the whole workshop nearly took up the whole floor, but his mind looked around and told him that the room was only a square yard or two. The whole place was like a jungle that you couldn’t cut through. Workstations littered the floor, power consoles towered over him like trees, and wiring wove between open machinery and the ceiling like vines, obscuring any hope of seeing anything other than the people directly in front of him. Oh. Right. There are people directly in front of him. 

He turned his attention to them, snapping his gaping mouth shut and feeling a bit hot in the face when he saw them hold back laughter. Wow, Ed, great first impression you’re making here. 

The two men were pretty similar– both sharp and clean-cut, with squared shoulders and an aura that made him wonder if they were both in the military before they worked here. 

One had pale skin, with a shock of short black hair and dark eyes making him look even paler. He was wearing the trademark blue jumpsuit that Stark Industries engineers always wore when they weren’t wearing a lab coat, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hands clad in white mechanical work gloves. He let on like he was an uninterested asshole, but his piercing eyes gave away his curiosity. Ed could see the gears turning in his head as the guy looked him over. 

The other had an authoritative air that made Ed feel like the guy towered over him, even though Ed had to look down at him in his wheelchair. Although he certainly had the appearance of an engineer, wearing a blue polo and slacks that you often see on one after work hours, Ed could tell almost immediately that he wasn’t a scientist. There was just a feeling in his stare… an accusative stare, rather than a questioning one. Ed was about to feel nervous about that, but the other guy started speaking and broke his train of thought. 

“I know how you’re feeling,” he said with a knowing smirk. “It’s wild being in a lab like this for the first time. I assume you’re our new little intern, right?”

He could only give a curt nod, too busy grappling with the urge to smack him upside the head for calling him little to actually respond. Physically assaulting a guy who could be his boss for the next few months was probably not a good idea. 

“Glad to have you here, kid,” he continued, his smirk now becoming mildly irritating. “I’m Roy Mustang, and you’ll be working with my team during your time here. This, here, is my little friend James–”

“Hey, now, Mustang,” the other man interjected with a laugh, putting his hand up to quiet him. “Your little friend James has perfectly capable vocal cords.” He turned to Ed and put his hands up in a casual welcoming gesture. “I’m James Rhodes, and I’ll be supervising you and Mustang’s team until you get settled in here. We’re also the ones who have the great honor of giving you the grand tour.” He maneuvered his chair around until he was facing the tiny aisle between lines of work desks and waved for them to follow.

“You can go ahead and toss your things here,” Mustang said, pointing at what was quite possibly the only empty desk there. “It gets really hot down here if you haven’t noticed yet, so you might want to get rid of the layers.” 

Ed almost hesitated, having gotten used to hiding his lack of an arm, but then he looked back at Rhodes. Right, he had a wheelchair. No point in hiding a disability here, was there? He took off all his stuff, haphazardly discarding it all on the desk and leaving himself in a black muscle shirt. Damn, he hadn’t dressed for the occasion of taking off his sweatshirt– this was totally unprofessional for a lab, wasn’t it? Before he could regret it all and put his sweatshirt back on, Mustang interrupted his thought process. 

“Alright, now we’ll probably head to the ba–” Mustang’s sentence dropped off as his jaw fell, and Rhodes’ eyes looked like they might just pop out of his head. Just out of instinct, Ed copied their expressions, but then he realized why they were surprised. Damn it, Ed, you just took your arm off without warning. Rhodes coughed into his fist and Mustang put a hand on his chest to recollect himself.

“You did have an arm when you first walked in here, righ–?” Mustang asked before being cut off by an elbow in the ribs.

“God, you don’t just ask someone that, Mustang!” Rhodes whispered at her before turning back to Ed like he hadn’t seen any of that. 

“Ah, fuck, I was supposed to tell you beforehand, wasn’t I,” Ed said, running his hand over his face. “I made a fake arm; it’s just wood, a hinge, and some fabric. It doesn’t really work unless it’s under a sweatshirt, so I took it off. I didn’t magically lose my arm in the…” he looked at the clock on the wall, “singular minute I’ve been here.” He would’ve chuckled as he watched Rhodes and Mustang breathe out sighs of relief, but for the time being he was too embarrassed to do that. 

They went on with the tour, explaining where he’d be spending his time, what a work day would look like for him, the purpose for the various fixtures in the room, and–most importantly, for him– the specialty of their team. They worked on replicating the technology that Stark used to make the Iron Man suit respond to him; in other words, they were trying to streamline the process of connecting nerves to robotics. It was so perfect for his own research that he had to keep himself from losing his mind and flinging himself into their work before they even explained it. 

“For the first few days, we’ll just be running diagnostics on you,” Mustang said, either ignoring or just unaware of the tired look Rhodes was giving him. 

“Or in normal people's terms,” he translated, “they’ll partner you up with different members of the team to see which specialty you’re best suited for.”

“Because you don’t have a degree yet,” Mustang continued, “you’ll probably be put into grunt work for now, like welding or writing project reports. Oh, the team will love having you around for that. But don’t worry too much– we’ll be teaching you along the way so you can work your way into more fun jobs.”

They went on to introduce him to a team of people that he would forget the names of within the hour, but he loved them already. It was so refreshing, being around people he actually related to. Even if he had to see their eyes through their goggles, he knew they were almost glowing with passion for everything they worked on here. 

He remembered having that passion for alchemy, and then Winry’s contagious passion for mechanics rubbing off on him after he lost his arm. Being surrounded by people with that fire after so much solitude from it… he could almost cry from relief. But he wouldn’t do that because he’s incredibly mature. For sure. 

When a duo of particularly enthusiastic engineers started to lead him towards their workstations to show him their work, he took one last glance into the huddle of scientists. More eyes were on him than there had been in multiple years, but they were so kind that he couldn’t make himself feel uncomfortable. Well… all kind except for one pair. 

Rhodes still had that look on his face like Ed was doing something wrong, or he was waiting for him to fuck up. Waiting for Ed to prove him right, but for what, he couldn’t imagine. He swallowed down his nerves with a gulp and followed behind the duo, trying to put it out of his mind. He hoped– hoped so much it was almost like praying– he was just misreading it all. 

_______________

As soon as Elric was out of sight, the group scrambled towards the break room. The second everyone was in the room and the door was shut, all eyes turned on Rhodes. 

“So…” Mustang started, putting together a cup of coffee as he spoke, “are you still certain?” 

Rhodes crossed his arms over his chest, avoiding eye contact with any of them by watching Mustang’s hands as he fiddled with the coffee machine. “Look, you know Stark doesn’t like to be wrong.”

“You’re not answering my question,” Mustang accused, not changing his face or voice at all.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to say that kid’s faking being an engineer,” a blonde, lanky engineer said, almost appalled. Rhodes didn’t know anyone there as well as Mustang, but he vaguely remembered that man introducing himself as ‘Havoc.’ He still hadn’t figured out if he was being sarcastic or not. “Didn’t you see his face? He’s probably not going to leave this place unless we drag him out of here.” 

“All right, fine,” Rhodes admitted. “That kid’s a scientist. Absolutely. He totally could have made the research he applied with. He’s way too excited and knowledgeable about all this stupid stuff to be faking that part.” A blonde woman with her hair pulled back in a bun raised a sharp eyebrow– Hawkeye, if he remembered correctly. 

“‘That part’? So you still think he’s faking something?” she asked.

“Look,” he said, “you know the hiring process? That includes looking at the criminal record, right? We also take a peek at the medical record, just to get an idea of who we’re looking at. And… well…” He ran a hand over his face. “There are no records of Edward Elric ever losing an arm.”

That sentence solicited a chorus of surprised noises from just about everyone except Hawkeye, who just stiffened up in surprise. 

“So unless he somehow lost his arm and seamlessly healed it without any professional medical attention…” Rhodes continued. 

“Then that’s not Edward Elric in the first place?” a rather small man with glasses exclaimed. Shit, Rhodes couldn’t remember his name at all. 

“He’s stolen someone’s identity?” Mustang asked between sips of coffee. “That makes things…” 

“Yeah, now it’s a lot more complicated than we thought it was,” Rhodes confirmed. “I was planning on waiting until I got definitive evidence before I reported to Stark, but now I need to know what to do about this. God, now I wish he was faking his qualifications. That’s a lot easier to deal with than someone who actually knows what they’re doing trying to infiltrate Stark Industries.”

“Awww, but he seemed so fun,” Havoc complained, “I would’ve loved to get a fresh face in here, and teenagers are always so passionate.” Rhodes sighed and started wheeling himself towards the door. 

“Stark will open up the internship slot once we deal with this,” Rhodes replied. “You’ll get a replacement soon enough.”

He pretended to ignore the questions hanging in the air as he left the room, but they were still bouncing around in his head. Why here, why now? Why this specific research? Is he working alone, or is this a sign of a larger organization targeting them? If it’s an organization, what are the chances that they already have people in here, and this just the one that got sloppy? God, this was way more than he signed up for. When he talked to Stark, he’d have to negotiate being paid for this.