Bunny Rabbit Hop Hop!
"So what is this exactly?" Tony asks, holding up the piece of broken metal by the thumb and pointer finger.
"This used to be my old wristwatch." Peter winces. "Or what's left of it after a delirious enhanced individual smashed it against the wall."
"Huh." Tony narrows his eyes at it. "And what does it do?"
Peter takes it from him. "It monitors basic vitals. I used it before you gave me the suit. I got hit quite a lot in the year I wore the thing you call a onesie."
"Don't you have a Peter Tingle?" Tony smirks in amusement as his intern's face lights up a bright red.
"Look. Just because I have a danger sense doesn't mean I can avoid literally every attack. I was super new to all this." He gestures to the semi-pristine white walls. "And I didn't have the muscle memory to dodge attacks just yet. Most of my baddies can be brute forced into submission, but I just relied on my webs most of the time."
Tony takes one last look at the item in his hand before turning away with a glint in his eye. "Betcha I can make a better one."
Peter sighed. "Of course, you can."
"Oh, by the way. An old friend of mine is coming to visit. A bunch of friends actually. Very cool bunch. They have their own teenager too. Though certainly not as smart and humble as you." Tony drawls, picking up a blowtorch and waving it around carelessly. "You might've heard of them. The Fantastic Four? They're like the Avengers. Though they usually like to run off and do their own thing."
"Isn't that what the Avengers did most of the time?" Peter asked.
"The Avengers mostly lazed about in my humble abode waiting for me to cook up their new gear. They also made me pay for their food. What a bunch of sugar babies, the lot of them," Tony mutters bitterly. "But the Fantastic Four is way better. My best science buddy, other than Brucie Bear, Reed Richards, is arriving at the end of the week, which is code for 'Expect me in a few days or so.'" Tony looked wistful. "I wonder if he'd spare me the time to play chess again."
"Reed Richards?!" Peter's eyes widened in recognition. "Isn't he known as the smartest man alive?"
"Ouch." Tony says, pointing to his chest. "Right here, Underoos. You hit me deep. He's smart, but he's not that smart."
"He's definitely that smart," Peter replies.
"Yeah, he's definitely that smart." Tony smiles. "I would've thought that you'd be more surprised by the prospect of having another teenage superhero to bond with. You can talk about having acne together, you walking sack of hormones."
"Okay, the only reason I had an acne outbreak was because my old suit did not have proper ventilation." Peter crosses his arms. "And I'm already quite familiar with Johnny Storm. I would've thought you'd like him more though. He's like a mini you."
"Mini me had some questionable life choices, but I was never at a point where I did not understand basic chemistry. I mastered that shit when I was in third grade," Tony snarks, before the words registered. "Wait. You've met Torchboy?"
"Yeah." Peter shrugs. "I broke into his building once. Our relationship was a bit rocky at first, but we've made up since then."
"Are there any other organizations you've made contact with? The Defenders? X-Men? Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Tony throws his hands up. "You've gotta stop keeping secrets from me, Underoos."
"It comes with being a teenager," Peter sasses.
"Well I can't wait till you're 20 then."
"You can't baby me anymore when I'm 20."
"Still can."
"Nuh-uh."
"Yuh-uh."
Peter sticks his tongue out.
@@@
Spiderman swings across Queens with a bagel in his mouth as he holds his burner phone up on one hand, courtesy of one visit from the Devil. He's waiting for the person on the other side to answer when he lands on a building with a huff.
After a while, someone picks up.
"Yo."
He chews faster and swallows.
"Why didn't you tell me you were coming, Torch-for-Brains?"
A laugh could be heard in the background as a series of explosions muffles the voice.
"Wanted to surprise you, Webs. Been a while, hasn't it?"
"Been a few months, yes. Sorry I had to ditch you. Had to go on a thing in Germany."
"No worries. If anything, I should be the one apologizing for ditching you first. And Germany?" Johnny whistles. "Isn't out of country a lil out of your range, Pipsqueak? Last I checked, you were still wearing your hoodie."
Peter smiles. This feels like old times. "Lies and slander. You've definitely heard about me in the news."
"Oh right. The new and improved Spiderman. The Amazing Spider-Man," Johnny mocks. "Tin Man built the suit or you?"
"Mr. Stark, but he let me fiddle with it after the Vulture incident. Now I do all the repairs myself. It's pretty cool, actually. If only I had the money and resources to own a lab like he does. I would never leave."
"What about hero work?"
"I would probably leave for that and that only."
"What about ice cream with the Human Torch?" A smile could be heard from the tone of his voice
"You'd melt it all." Spiderman tiptoes on the edge of a balcony. "I prefer chips."
"Then I'd have to bring water," Johnny whines.
"You'd have to bring water even if it's just ice cream, y'know? Don't want tonsils now, do we?"
"Eugh. Tonsils. Disgusting."
"Truly is," Peter says, mockingly grave.
"You're starting to sound like my sister."
"I'm jealous of your sister." Peter does a backflip on the wall. "She's married to Reed Richards!"
"Oh great. Out comes the nerd within the hero."
"You could never fully appreciate genius, Mr. Storm. You're surrounded by it. I want to live your life."
"You would hate it if you lived with these three 'geniuses,' dork."
"Sounds like a dream come true."
Johnny made a half-offended noise. "Never in my life have I heard something so outrageously wrong. Take your science fanboyism someplace else. We're trying to catch up, remember?"
"Oh right. How have you been, your graciousness?"
"Not too terribly, sir knight...."
Peter could feel a giggle bubbling up. It feels nice, talking to someone who knew him as Spiderman before all the craziness that has happened to him. Someone who wouldn't immediately assume everything is fine and dandy. Someone who wouldn't immediately assume that everything's trashed and on fire because of him.
It feels nice. Talking to someone who'd talk about their own fair share of messes without making the entire thing a lecture. Without seeing his issues as minimal compared to theirs just because he's younger.
"And then Sue said, 'Oh. I didn't know you could do that.' And like.....coming from someone who probably already has a psychoanalysis journal on how I act, that's big, Webs. Big, I say!"
Peter relaxes on the roof as a waft of air blows by.
"Why are you visiting anyways?"
"I-" A cough. Johnny choking on spit maybe. "Can't I just miss my favorite hero?"
"Flattery ain't getting you outta this one, Storm. If that's the case, you'd be visiting me without your crew."
"Like it or not, I'm still a minor. And I don't have a secret identity to massively fail at acting like an adult."
"Hey!"
"Don't worry, Webs. Not all of us are as suave and cool as I am."
"You're avoiding the question."
"..."
"Johnny..."
"Ask your dad. Gotta go, Spiderman."
Peter blinks at his phone.
"He hung up on me."
@@@
"Mr. Stark, Johnny Storm is being suspicious and secretive, which, for someone as egotistical as him, is unusual. You know egotistical. Kinda. Do you know what he's hiding?" Peter shakes his head as he takes off his mask. "Nah. He'd probably point at me and laugh."
"He would definitely point at you and laugh," a feminine robotic voice calls out.
"Oh Jesus beneezus!" Peter's left clinging on the ceiling as Karen speaks up from within his new Stark Phone. He glares down at his bedside where the offending invention is located. "Don't do that, Karen. You're gonna give me a heart attack!"
"Sorry, Peter. If it helps, your practice session was very funny."
"It's not meant to be funny! It's meant to be interrogative!" Peter flushed.
"Mhm." Karen teased. "I'm sure the boss will be compelled to answer your questions after he watches today's logs."
"Today's....logs?" Peter blinked in confusion. Then his eyes widened in horror. "Oh shit. The Baby Monitor Protocol."
"No worries, Peter. It can't be any more embarrassing than the time you cosplayed each of the Avengers then fanboyed about their every heroic deed despite fighting half of them not too long ago."
"Karen." Peter points a finger at his phone. "We do not speak of that anymore."
"Alright. It can't be any worse than that one time we do not speak of anymore," Karen agrees. Peter stays suspicious for one second before a sound emits from the phone. "You also have a video call from boss. Would you like me to answer for you?"
"No!" Peter flounders. "I'll just...press it myself."
He hits the green button and is greeted by the sight of Tony smiling mischievously.
"Hi...Mr. Stark." Peter brings a hand to his messy curls. "What's up?"
"I have to say, Underoos. I'm impressed. You have balls. But I'm not spoiling the surprise. Bye, Spiderling."
"Mr. Stark wai-"
He makes a noise of disbelief once he hears the telltale sound of the end of the call. Peter grabs his hair in frustration. "What's with people and leaving the call prematurely today?"
"You're lucky he did not point and laugh," Karen adds in unhelpfully.
"That's what he wants you to think." He sighs. "Well May is planning something downstairs. I feel like I'm about to be ambushed. I'll probably just think about this tomorrow."
@@@
"May, where do you think the line between sentience and non-sentience lies?" Peter mumbles. It's getting quite late. He's been wrangled into a couch burrito after his aunt tried making him stay for movie night. Of course, he could just leave anyways, but he couldn't do that to her.
"I think that's too much dystopia for you, young man," May says, patting him on the head. "Do you wanna go to bed, my little web-head?"
"No...no..." He slurs. "It's just....does it start when a machine actively defies its programming? Or when a machine starts deciding on its own? Is there a line between free will and sentience overall? There has to be, right?"
"I-" Peter cuts her off before she could fully respond.
"What about preference? How do you measure that? Do you present variables of equal value and see which one the thing chooses? If it's all distributed equally in a series of tests, it's impartial, but if it isn't, it's actively choosing? How does one separate that from coincidence though? By running *more* tests? But what if coincidence is an active member of that test? After all, the next variable of choice shouldn't be affected by the previous even if probability equations imply otherwise. I am confused, May. Help me be not confused." Peter could feel his lids start dragging down.
"You should really sleep, Peter." May says instead. "Up up. Chop chop. Don't make me carry you."
Peter stands up, still wrapped in a burrito blanket and walks towards the wall. He climbs it without the use of his hands and heads towards his bedroom upside down.
"If alien life does exist, and I'm pretty sure it does, what will their criteria for life look like?" Peter yawns. "I mean...we humans keep saying viruses aren't alive, but that doesn't make sense either. Sure they can't metabolize on their own, but that's because they don't need to. They're like....feeding....eating in a whole different way. Do they deserve to be treated as nonliving because they can't procreate on their own? Why? They exist to fill a niche left by what we call living beings. Some actively hunt living beings. Sounds pretty alive to me. Heck, some viruses attack other viruses. Giant ones, May. They're big too. Like bacteria." Peter frowns. "Do you think they'll base their line on whether or not a creature can think for itself? Against just mere-instincts. I mean....it's the biological equivalent of a computer defying its code. If it's not a malfunction, its sentient, no?"
May looks at her nephew with fondness before turning off the TV. She notices his phone left behind on her counter from when he got them snacks.
"What do you think, Karen?" She smiles. "What is your basis for sentient life? Do you consider yourself sentient?"
"I am sentient enough to fit Peter's needs, Mrs. Parker. Anyone who plans on helping him needs to know how to learn and adapt. Though I do not have the will to separate myself from his or Mr. Stark's commands."
"But what if you had to choose?" May sits down on the table, bringing the phone with her. "What if there's two choices that bring equal benefits and harm to either of them. Whose commands will you listen to?"
"In the end, I am programmed to listen to Mr. Stark. This is due to Peter's history of not prioritizing his own wellbeing consistently enough. But I do have the sentience to protest and recommend alternative options if the command brings harm to either of them. Though due to my lack of critical thinking, if the choice is opinionated, I cannot guarantee better options."
"Huh." May brings a hand to her cheek. "Opinionated in what way?"
"When presented with questions that require consciousness, I do have difficulty in picking the ideal option. This is especially frustrating when Peter asks me about morality. As I do not stand on the same level as he does, I do not always know what answer he wants from me."
"So like the Trolly Problem then."
"Yes Mrs. Parker. I've learned that Peter desires to save as many people as possible, but due to his lack of will to kill, it's contradicting when presented with an issue that requires him to do so to save more individuals."
May looks troubled. "And if it comes down to him or the ultimate bad guy of the day?"
"Mr. Stark has installed a kill switch in the suit that will automatically neutralize the threat after the Vulture incident. It comes in a subsection of the Baby Monitor Protocol, which, as per agreement with Peter, must stay active for at least three months. To be effective, however, Peter must stay in the dark about this or else he'd readjust to prevent such a cause from happening, no doubt through careless means, giving himself a higher chance of being hurt."
The ease of tension on May's shoulders is evident. Though there's another thing she wants to ask.
"Why tell me?"
At this, Karen gives a pause. "Mr. Stark has assigned you to a position of control lower than him but higher than Peter himself. I follow your orders as well as his."
May blinks. "Oh?"
Karen's voice seems to soften. "You take care of Peter Parker as much as I take care of Spiderman. Mr. Stark is in the position to care for both. Even still. We all share the same responsibility."
"And that comes from power. Power Peter gave us through trust," was May's teary response. She lowers her head slightly. "Well I can settle with a distrustful teenager rather than a dead one, I guess."
"Which is why it's important that he doesn't have to find out about it at all, but that's not happening at the rate he's going. He's catching dangerous eyes."
May brings the hand on her cheek to her forehead. "He's far too young for this. Jesus Christ."
"I don't think there's any age suitable for this life in particular. Juggling your duty with your life like this is sure to leave some scars. Emotional or otherwise," Karen says. "A risk to himself should he be unmasked. And, of course, the lack of time to hang out with his friends unless he is sure that they can be trusted with his life. Even then, just mere contact is enough to put all of you in danger. Not recommended for anyone at all."
"Please don't remind me." She closes her eyes. "I'm just waiting for the time he inevitably pushes me away."
"I have a recommendation..." Karen adds in unsurely. "If you'll allow me to make one."
"Go ahead, Karen. Do what you do best."
"Alright." She seems to think for a while before continuing. "What if you get Mr. Stark to make you a suit? One that could be drawn upon at a moment's notice?"
"What if he doesn't agree?" May asks, refusing to think about how exactly she would waltz up to him to ask.
"But he will." Karen insists. "The primary concern here is if you somehow lose it, but the less people who know about it, the better. He's already working on something for Peter. Perhaps you could convince him to create something for you as well."
"Can you be the one to bring it up?" May sits back. "I don't want to seem demanding or forcing. Heck, if Tony is already working on something to protect my baby better, I would like it if he concentrated on that first."
"Alright. I'll try to process my humor programming to divert his attention. I am warning you though. Mr. Stark can read me well enough."
"That's fine. Do you think we should tell Peter?"
"I..." Karen hesitates once more. "Am not sure which option to take. On one hand, that's one more secret for Peter to hide. On another, he wouldn't be as alarmed the moment you're in the line of danger. However, that, in it of itself, can be suspicious. There are other variables that I'm unable to account for as well. It's best you ask boss about this."
"Alright."
@@@
He receives the call at the end of class.
Well more like he receives the drone at the end of class.
It's a prototype. And it's his.
The drone, that is. Not whatever it is that's attached to it.
"How in the world am I supposed to hide this?"
He glances at his web shooter and takes aim.
He hopes that that doesn't ruin it.
@@@
"Kid, what are you doing?" Happy asks grumpily from the driver's seat.
"I am..." Peter inspects the bit of metal still stuck to the weird plastic-like substance on the thing. "Trying to analyze this weapon. Mr. Stark sent it to me on a drone. I think it's my homework."
Happy takes a considering glance at it. "Looks alien."
"It probably is." He shrugs.
"Looks dangerous too."
"Yup."
"Blow up the car and I'll never drive you anywhere ever again."
"Doubt that."
Happy gives him a dry look. "I liked you better before you picked up boss's attitude."
Peter returned the gesture. "You like his attitude."
Happy sighs. "He gave me way too many grey hairs already. I didn't exactly want more."
"Then don't make more," the kid snarks.
"Want me to go bald?" He deadpans.
"You could always get a wig, Happy." He flashes him a smile. "I think you'd look good as a redhead."
"Don't test me, kid."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
A silence takes over the car as both individuals think about different things. From tight scheduling to defending, a comforting sense of camaraderie could be felt in their presence.
Until...
"So why were you in my neighborhood again?"
Happy blushes as he does his best to ignore the question.
Peter just narrows his eyes and lets it go.
@@@
"Hi, Karen. Remember Ned from school? Y'know....my guy in the chair?" Peter asks his phone. He gives a subtle smirk when his Spidey Senses tell him that Matt's listening in on him, but he isn't concerned when it suddenly turns off. Daredevil's had a habit of checking up on him every once in a while. If only he could return the favor.
"Of course, Peter." She rings out in his 'hearing aid.'
"Well....I'm debating something right now. If...hypothetically...I could find the scraps to build you a robot, not a sophisticated one like Vision, but something you can use to get things done without me, would you be okay with it?" Peter brings out a game on his phone while his school bus slows down at a red light. "If so, do you think Mr. Stark would let Ned tamper with the code? He's technically not an intern, but he never said he couldn't tinker a bit."
"Peter," came her disapproving tone. "That's willful ignorance of his orders. He'll see right through that."
"Smart man. Of course, he'd see through that. I was wondering about my chances of getting away with it unscathed." He joked. "But! If I do get his approval, do you want it or no? Don't let me influence your decision."
"My programming has your wellbeing as priority. I can't defy the code. It will affect my choice either way," Karen starts. "But I don't see anything wrong with being able to interact with the physical world. I am concerned about how you'll find the time to do that though. Between hunting down D.H. as Spiderman, interning at Stark Industries, and studying at Midtown High, that doesn't leave a lot of opportunities."
"Right. I also have to work on helping Mr. Magoo with his thing too." Peter leans on the window and watches the buildings pass by. "If only there was a way to stretch the days."
"There would be, hypothetically. It's not confirmed, but I do believe that there has been temperance with the past a few times. It would make sense that time can be extended as well through subjective means."
"Anything to do with the Mandela effect?"
"Possibly."
"Huh." Peter hums, pretending he's not thinking about the possibility of another universe, another him, existing, being erased, and remade.
He doesn't let the fear of the fragility of his existence get to him.
But it does make his skin tingle weirdly.
It's only when he gets a thump on his shoulder does he realize that he's sitting next to Flash Thompson. And that Flash Thompson himself was sleeping on his shoulder.
He stares at him for a moment then shakes his head, too unbothered to move it.
"Alright. Karen, run visual with the bug. I'd like a clear, open image of Queens please."
"Right away, Peter."
@@@
Peter is, quite frankly, afraid of the water.
This isn't because of some messed up spider thing, though his susceptibility to cold certainly added to that. This is due to some latent childhood trauma he got when he went swimming with Aunt May and Uncle Ben.
Mr. Stark knows that.
Karen knows that.
Ned knows that.
Heck, even Pepper knows that.
Everyone that's in the know knows that.
Which is why he's prepared to modify an aquatic suit for himself for when he inevitably goes to the labs.
He makes the engineering of it during class away from prying eyes, though anyone who cared enough to pry would just see a bunch of scribbles. MJ scoffed when she took a peak. Peter never felt more relieved that his chicken scratches were unreadable.
Though it certainly might be time to invest in learning another language.
He's half and half on learning Chinese, Arabic, French, or some unknown. On one hand, being able to converse well with the people has always been a priority, though he could just have Karen run auto-translate. On the other, a barely known language could serve as his way to jot down classified things in plain sight.
He scans the notebook when class is dismissed and tears apart the paper he used, making sure to distribute the pieces in different school trash cans so they can't be put together.
He still hasn't started on Karen's robot. Or tracking down Double-Helix's operations.
He suspects DD can handle the branch in Hell's Kitchen in the meantime.
It's really only Queens branch that he's worried about.
He doesn't exactly have a lot of time on his hands.
"Karen, send design P3734-SwM-III to the Holo-table for Friday to read. Make sure it's marked as 'not completed.'"
"Yes, Peter."
@@@
He decides to visit Mr. Magoo. He's offered to train him after he complained about getting hit by Captain America. He wasn't exactly going to pass this up, even when Mr. Stark told him to stay away.
"Heads up, DD." He thwips his way over to a man with a gun and proceeds to wrap him up before any arms get broken. The man has technique and experience, military if he guesses correctly, but Daredevil has taught him not to be afraid of using a little bit of extra strength to be unpredictable. A boost on the ground here, a jump there, a punch wherever. Just enough to subdue the other quick and easy.
"Spiderman," Matt greets cooly from his place on the ground. "How long are you available?"
After a long talk with May, he decided to readjust his schedule. He'd be doing school projects right after class instead of patrol and patrol right after school projects. This gives him a better grasp on how much time he needs to allot for Peter Parker and Spiderman.
It also has the added benefit of giving him time to see his friend on the other side of the mask.
"You have me the entire night, Mr. Devil!" He gives him an exaggerated salute and the man with the gun snorts.
"Mr. Devil? What are you, a kid?"
Matt just sighs and Peter tilts his head curiously. "Are you the Punisher?"
"Sure am." The man makes no move to free himself.
"Ooookayyy....Would you prefer me calling you Mr. Punisher or Mr. Castle?" He gives him an odd look.
"You just learned I'm the Punisher and your main concern is what alias I go by? Drop the Mr., kid. I'm not interested in being cute."
He steadily ignores Daredevil's hushed: "Oh you will be."
Spiderman looks disappointed, but he beams right back up when looking at the other vigilante in the area. "Mr. McDee, are you well enough for our training today?"
"McDee?" Matt whispers, confused. "And yeah, kid. Just head right on over to the gym. Make sure you're not followed. I'll come right after I deal with this."
"Alright!" Peter throws him a liquid vial. "Here's the stuff to dissolve the webs faster. It's non-toxic, but make sure to minimize contact with skin if possible. Don't want any sudden allergic reactions, y'know? Uhh...." He shifts around a bit until Frank slams his head against the cold, hard ground.
"I'm a non-meta. I'm not mutant as well." He closes his eyes.
He's under the impression that the young masked man was smiling awkwardly at him. "Just making sure." Before the kid thwips away, he tsks.
"How old are you even? You look like you're too young for this."
"Don't be absurd." He turns right back around and steps closer. "There's no age limit in our business. There's no age starting point in it either. All you do here is survive. Live to fight for another day and all that."
He figures thwipping away dramatically wouldn't be as impactful after that failed attempt.
So he settles on jumping over the building's edge in a backflip.
Mr. Stark would be proud of that exit.
He's approximately ten feet down his free fall when he hears the Punisher speak once more.
"He's not your bastard child, is he? He better not be, Red..."
Peter chokes on a laugh.
"Karen, you have that recorded?"
"Of course, Spiderman."