A million to One
Rain lashed against the deck, beating down on the ancient wooden planks. Harsh waves battered the hull of the tiny fishing vessel, tossing it around as easily as if it were a rag doll. The boat tipped precariously as a storm whirled around it, uncaring of the danger it wrought. The boat's single passenger, a frail-looking old man with white receding hair and a moustache, wrestles with the wheel. He wipes his glasses furiously trying to gain some vision back. It was no good. With or without his glasses visibility was so bad that he couldn't see beyond the sides of his boat. He had half a mind to just drop anchor and pray the waves didn't drag his boat to the depths of the ocean, reclaiming his meagre haul.
Then he saw it. The lighthouse.
But which one? He waited, anticipating the flashing code that may yet save his life. The code that would show him where the rocks are and guide him safely to shore.
But it never came… this was no lighthouse he knew of. But still, he wrestled his boat into submission, steering it toward the light. It his only hope, like a siren on the deadly seas, it drew him in. Then the lighthouse moved. It didn't turn or flash. It walked. He watched transfixed as it turned towards him. His eyes were met by two luminous orbs suspended nearly 200 feet in the air. The eyes of a Giant Metal Man. His grip on the boat slipped as the wheel spun out of his control. He hurried to reclaim power when the hull burst open as the unforgiving waves dragged her over the deadly, jagged rocks.
The next thing he knew water was rushing into his lungs as he was dragged toward a watery grave. He fought his way to the surface only to watch in horror as his boat, his livelihood, slipped beneath the waves. He latched himself to a nearby chunk of floating debris clutching it tightly; for his life was depending on it. He glanced upward hoping to catch a glimpse of the great glowing eyes that had lured him into the rocks lethal clutches.
It was gone. There was no trace of the light that had given him such short-lived hope.
Real or not those two luminous orbs, those eyes would haunt his nightmares for years to come. As a new round of waves threatened to drag him beneath the surface again, he renewed his grip in the splintered wood keeping him afloat. He needed to focus on making it out of the water alive.
He needed to warn people.
Something was here.
Something big.
Something Alien.
A crisp, autumn breeze blew through a small town just off the coast of Maine. The ground was still damp from the storm that had blown in the week before. The air was fresh and sweet, just the way he liked it. His asthma was so much better when the rain washed most of the pollen from the air. He glanced behind him as he crested the hill; taking in the view below. Rockwell was a small humble town; peaceful and quiet. It was beautiful this time of year, summer fading as winter closed in. Leaves were already losing that healthy green slowly gaining that golden hue. The sight made Peter Parker pause as he pedalled his way to the small diner where his aunt worked. He took his time taking in the tranquil view of the tiny town with a population of just under 2000.
He would admit, it was a good view. Some days Peter loved it; other days he hated it. If he was completely honest with himself he missed the hustle and bustle of the city. He may have been born here in his grandparent's house but he was raised in New York City. He and his aunt had been forced to move back to Rockwell after his Uncle Ben had been shot and killed in the line of duty. Ben had been a police officer for the 97th precinct back in New York City, but after he died they just couldn't afford to live there anymore. Peter knew his Aunt May missed the city too; out here she was stuck waiting tables in a crappy cafe even though she was a fully qualified nurse. There were just no job opportunities for her out here in the boondocks (wop wops) but they had no other choice.
One thing he missed most about New York (other than his anonymity) was that out here, there was little to no scrap electronics laying about. Back in the city, it wasn't uncommon to see a tv in an alley here or a broken computer in a parking lot there; out here you'd be lucky to find a pair of boots lying about, much less scrap computer parts. Still, he made do. There was a semi-decent thrift shop on the other side of town that he could count on for scrap electronics. It's what he spent most of his paltry allowance on each week.
Peter loved to tinker. He had always loved taking things apart, seeing how they worked. He knew his parents were scientists; his Dad a chemist and his Mom a biologist. He knew he was smart. Uncle Ben had always said he got that from his dad. He remembers his first day of school his dad had sat him on his knee and said "Knowledge is Power, kiddo. You fill that big brain of yours and there'll be no door you can't open." It was one of the few memories he had left of his parents, they had died in a plane crash 6 months later while off on a business trip. It was years before his uncle would tell him the second half of the saying, "knowlege is power, yes kiddo, but with great power must also come great responsibilty," this happened the first time he had come home from school with a black eye.
Ben had told him that his parents had met in college and had been nearly inseparable till the day they died. Peter loved hearing stories about his parents almost as much as Ben loved telling them. He supposed the stories would stop now there was no one there to tell them. May hadn't known his parents too well. She had met Ben only a year before he was born and they had lived on opposite sides of the city, May and Ben in Queens and his Mom and Dad on the far side of Straten Island. She didn't know them as Ben had. Ben was his Dad's older brother; they had grown up together in the small farmhouse where he and May were now staying.
He could begrudgingly admit (but would never voice) that the town wasn't that bad. Far too quiet for his tastes but he could see the appeal. Anyway, the thrift shop had just enough to keep him going. Like he said he loved to tinker. He paused at the top of the hill to check the box with his latest invention; since parts were in low supply he had been focusing on its coding. SPYDER was his first attempt at an AI, and also the first bot he had made entirely from scratch. Subpar parts aside he thought he did a good job. He had finally gotten his little Frankenstein robot up and running and he couldn't wait to show him off to his aunt.
Taking one last look at the picturesque autumn view, Peter turned and set off down the hill to the diner. It was getting dark and the road was quiet that evening. The only sounds were the echo of the waking nocturnal wildlife and the crunching of the stiff golden leaves beneath his tires. He rode on quietly listening to the sounds you could never hear in the heart of the city. While the peaceful background noise could be considered calming to some it did nothing to ease the homesickness in his bones. God, he missed people. He also missed being anonymous, just another in the crowd, being looked at but not seen. In a town this small everybody knew everyone and their uncle. Talk about nosey neighbours.
SPYDER twitched in his box, searching for a way to get out and explore. Peter grinned, glancing back at the box to check the lid was still on. He didn't need SPYDER getting out before he had a chance to show him off. As he turned the last corner the diner came into view. It wasn't new by anyone standards but it wasn't anywhere near as old as most of the buildings in town. It had a retro look to it but wasn't in too bad a shape. If Peter had to guess it was likely built in the '80s or maybe the late '70s. It was a small restaurant that looked like someone had scooped it out of its decade and plonked it back down in the 21st century. The radio even played bad '90's hits over the radio, not one modern song, to drown out the incessant buzz of the obnoxious neon signs. He doubted the paint had ever been touched up. Not since the restauraunt was first opened going by the faded, weathered flakes of colour that stuck to the side of the building.
He jumped off his bike and leant it against one of the scratched, glass windows overlooking the street. The old bell jangled as he entered the diner, SPYDER in its box tucked under his arm. The familiar tune of Britney Spears greeted him as he crossed the red and white checkered floor tiles.
"Over here, honey!" He spotted his Aunt's familiar messy bun at the other end of the bar taking a customer's order with the spare pen she kept in her hair. She must have lost her other one. He grinned. She had glanced up, giving him a tired grin and waving him over to some of the open barstools. She turned her attention back to the man she was serving, finishing up quickly. She dropped the order off at the kitchen as she made her way over to where he sat. She noticed how keyed up he was and eyed him with suspicion.
"Hey, Aunt May! You won't believe it! I did it! It works!" He babbled energetically.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "What works?" She asked. Don't get her wrong she loved how creative her nephew could be… but after nearly 8 years of the boy taking apart almost anything he could get his hands on, she had learned to be wary. Some of his… creations tended to go up in smoke. Literally. She caught sight of the shoebox on his lap. "Peter. We've been over this. No more robots. I don't need another talking toaster. They aren't pets."
"But May. He's not a pet. He's a- He's a Friend!" Peter whined, blatantly ignoring the 'robot' part of the question. He set the box on the vacant stool next to him.
May sighed regretfully. "Peter we've been over this we have to rent one of the rooms if we're going to make ends meet. At least till I find better work and I can't do that with your crazy machines running round."
"You won't even know it's there I'll keep him in my room. Please?" He pouted, going for the kicked puppy look. It wasn't fair. Why did they have to leave New York? Why did that robber have to shoot Ben? God, Ben. God did he miss Ben. His inventions had never been a problem before. He missed New York.
"Yes. Until you feel sorry for it and set it free in the house. Do you remember the Roomba Peter?" She shuddered. "Ugg. I remember the Roomba."
Peter scratched his neck looking sheepish, also remembering the Roomba. "Yeah, that wasn't one of my best ideas."
In truth, the 'Roomba' had been a disaster from start to finish. He had found it abandoned in the subway station on his way home from school. He had fixed it up and gotten it working again before setting it loose in their apartment. May had quickly been convinced that it had been possessed by the devil. The tiny machine almost broke May's ankle upward of 5 times. The final straw was when it ate Ben's police reports leaving them torn up on the rug. Peter would have loved to watch his uncle explain that to his superiors.
"Sorry Detective Inspector, sir, the Roomba ate my after-action reports for the Fisk raids."
That sounded almost as bad, if not worse than the "my dog ate my homework" excuse, A+ for creativity though.
He winced. Ben had not been amused. After that they made him go leave the demonic Roomba at a thrift shop far away from them (take that Brooklyn). Still, that was only one time… (totally ignoring the talking toaster, which he was).
"Please, Auntie May. At least look at it. I worked really hard on it." He turned his puppy eyes just a notch. He could see her breaking down already.
As he predicted, May caved, setting down the cloth she had been cleaning the bar with. She looked at him with her hands in her hips. "Alright. Where is it?"
Peter glances in the box with his latest creation, only to find it empty. Oh Shit. When he had set it down he had forgotten it was liable to escape and without him holding the lid down. It would have been a cakewalk for the little bot.
"I will... go... get it. Hehe." He let out a nervous laugh, franticly scanning the restauraunt. He needed to find that bot. Fast. Thankfully luck was on his side for once; one of May's co-workers, Mandy, came up and started to talk to her. Gossiping about one of the more insufferable customers by the sounds of it. He spins around quickly, scanning the restaurant from his stool; making use of the unexpected distraction. He needed to work quickly if he was to find it before May found out he had let one of his bots loose in her restaurant. He tuned back into his Aunt's conversation… "So he wants us to hold the mayo and the mustard. How bout we just hold the flavour all together?" Mandy huffed. Thank God. Mandy could talk for ages about absolutely nothing at all.
Peter took his cue and starts dashing around the diner looking for his robot. He ducked under tables and behind bins. The amount of old chewed up gum that those tables had collected was impressive. After bumping into half a dozen customers and nearly knocking over a waitress he saw it. He watched as it skittered under a booth. There was a man occupying it. He was sat reading the paper with a cup of cold coffee. Ugg boring. It seemed like such a boring, adult thing to do.
"Excuse me. Excuse me. Sir? Sir." Peter asked politely, no one could ever say he didn't have manners.
The man didn't move, not even a twitch. He glanced under the table again, SPYDER was still there scuttering around in circles. Peter bit his lip unsure of what he should do, he needed to act fast if he were to catch his invention. He cautiously tugged at the corner of the newspaper; jumping when the paper dropped from the man's loose grip. The man was sleeping! Though he did a remarkable impression of looking awake. He was still sat up straight(ish) head tilted to read the paper but his eyes were closed, hidden behind a pair of very expensive sunglasses.
Peter looked curiously at the man. He looked kinda familiar…
OH MY GOD! ohmygod!ohmygod!!!!
Peter was 90% certain he knew who this man was! He'd had a poster of him on his wall since like, forever! He was one of the most brilliant inventors to ever live. He was right up there with Leonardo da Vinci, Nikola Tesla and the Wright Brothers. This man was Tony Stark!
He was sure of it.
This was the elusive former CEO of STARK Industries. Iron Man! Wait… what was Iron Man doing in Rockwell, Maine? In fact, where had he been for the past two years? Iron Man nor Tony Stark had been seen in public since his very public dispute with Captain America. Maybe he was on a secret mission! In that case, he better not blow Mister Stark's cover.
At that moment SPYDER decided to crash into Mister Stark's shoe. Peter flinched as he waited for the the billionaire jerk awake at the impact. To his amazement, Mister Stark just gave a snort then a loud snore, dropping the newspaper.
Peter couldn't help it. He giggled. But could you blame him? Who knew Tony Stark snored? This was like the coolest thing ever! Oh, he couldn't wait to tell Ned! He was gonna Flip Out when he heard about this.
Hmmm… he would need proof if he wanted Ned to believe him. Hell, he wasn't even sure he believed him. Peter quickly snuck out his phone ready to take a quick pic but ultimately decided against it. You shouldn't take anyone's photo without their permission it was rude 'specially since the man was sleeping.
"Sir?" He tried again, louder this time.
That did the trick. The billionaire's eyes blinked open.
--
"Huh?" Tony glanced around, scanning the room for what had woken him. Huh? When did he fall asleep? He knew he shouldn't have worked 36 hours without sleeping. He also knew he probably should have taken a nap or something before heading out, but the coffee here was half decent and he'd run out at the junkyard he was working at (hiding in).
He had found it wasn't that bad. Out of the public eye, his and Pepper's relationship had bloomed. He had often thought that it would have been impossible for him to hang up his suit but after his… spat with Rogers and almost his entire family team had abandoned him, he decided to fuck it and disappear. Honestly, the best decision he had made since busting out of that cave and shutting down the weapons division of SI.
Pepper was at that moment back in New York City doing all that boring adult stuff that came with running and owning an international, multi-billion dollar company. She had to go back into the city every second week to manage the company. She was CEO after all. That was usually when his self-destructive work habits tended to play up. Hence, the 36-hour working spree, though, in his defence he may have just broken the laws of phyics.
"Sir?"
A childish voice brought him back to the present. He was at the diner in town. His coffee was cold. He had fallen asleep. A kid had woken him up. The kid must be due a haircut with loose, light chocolate brown curls framing his face but then maybe the kid liked it long. His chestnut eyes were wide and expressive. The kid was small, tiny in fact. P.E must be torture for this kid. He didn't come across as much of a threat.
"Huh?" He says again. Nice. Eloquent. He should probably try words. "What's up, kid?"
The kid squints at him as if trying to place him. He's not too worried nobody had recognised him in over a year. He had shaken up his look, changed his beard. It was smaller, less showy but not far from what it used to be. His clothes were vastly different from his usual affair. He was wearing a two day old Black Sabbath tee, rumpled jeans and stuffy old boots that were covered in mud. Occupational hazard of living out here in the country, it has mud. It also has cow shit and sheep droppings but he had been smart enough to avoid those. All in all a far cry from the ten-thousand-dollar suits and Tom Ford loafers he was last seen in.
Something brushes against his leg, scaring the bejesus out of him. His eyes dart down then back at the boy who cringed guiltily.
"Please don't move sir. My- my invention is under your table." The kid stuttered.
Invention? This kid was couldn't be more than ten? He gives the kid another look, this time taking in his dorky T-shirt: The Rotation of the Earth really makes my Day (he couldn't help it the joke made him chuckle). The kid also had a Midtown- wait, a Midtown jacket on? Midtown was a highly prestigious STEM high school back in New York, maybe he had underestimated the boy's age or maybe he was a prodigy kid. It was more than enough to make him curious and perhaps a little cautious of whatever was beneath his table. He leads over to peek beneath the table immediately regretting that decision when he sees all the filth clinging to the underside of the countertop.
"No! Please don't look, sir. If you make a scene my Aunt will make me dismantle him." The kid pleaded. "Please, sir."
"Hey. Hey, relax, kid. What kind of invention is it anyway?" He asked, humouring the kid.
The boy's face lit up like a megawatt bulb. "I call him SPYDER. But don't worry he's friendly. I made him myself. It's like a spy not but it looks like I need to work on its coding though. He's not very good at listening to commands yet."
He started to bounce with that excitable, infectious energy all kids seem to possess. He couldn't help it, a grin snuck onto his own face as the kid started rambling about his 'invention'. It was kinda adorable.
Wait, what? since when were kids adorable?
They were snotty and messy and whiney; everything that wasn't adorable.
Raised voices from a couple of booths over, drew his attention away from the kid who was still going on about his robot. He was progressively talking faster and faster. Tony was a little worried that the kid would pass out if he didn't stop to breathe soon. He was smart, Tony would give him that. The voices were loud enough that they couldn't be ignored. This was a family establishment; those morons wouldn't be dumb enough to start a brawl in here, surely?
Tony held up one finger to the kid. The spiel of speech spewing from the kid's mouth came to an abrupt stop as he followed Tony's gaze to the offending booth. A fisherman was standing emphatically warning other customers of some mysterious threat he had encountered on the high seas. The fisherman had a receding hairline and old fashioned glasses. His silvery grey hair was slicked back. He rubbed agitatedly at his painters brush moustache.
"I'm telling the truth! Goddamit! It came from outer space! I saw it and it was headed toward land. I called the government and Washington. Maybe it was a Sputnik or a Vader from mars. Yes, I think that's what it is... it's an invader from mars! A spaceship of some kind. What if it's those scary lookin' ones that attacked New York?! It was an unidentified flying something." The elderly man was yelling.
"Unidentified? Knowing you, Stan, I'd say it was either whiskey or beer." A brown-haired man ridiculed the older man. His surrounding mates roar with laughter. Those closest to him gave him hearty slaps on the back. The fisherman (Stan?) reels back hurt by their responses.
Normally Tony wouldn't care but he had seen the way the kid's mood had dropped when the men had started laughing. A nerdy kid like him must get picked on constantly. Tony could sympathise, being 15 in college wasn't all it cracked up to be. God, he hated bullies.
He doesn't know what possessed him to do so but his mouth moved before his brain could stop it. "Hey! I saw it too."
Silence settles in the restaurant. The only sound is the radio playing in the background. Ironically, the song playing was Basket Case by Green Day.
The asshole gave him a once over, taking in his scruffy appearance and sneers, "I rest my case." Gaining another round of laughs.
"Ahhh. Whatever." Tony waved them off with a dismissive wave. He had stopped caring what other people thought in his twenties. He turned around surprised to see the kid was still there. Wasn't he just there for his invention or whatever?
"I believe you. What if it is the chitauri? Or some other alien?" The kid asked quietly. A shit. They had upset the kid. If his assumption about his midtown jacket was correct, there was a high possibility the kid witnessed the attack.
"Sorry kid. I was just pulling your leg. Standing up for the little guy. Ya know? If we don't, who will? Any don't worry about the chitauri, I blew them to kingdom come so they won't be back," he reassured. Trying to distract the kid he asked, "So you make robots, huh kid?"
"Ok…" The kid still seemed unsure but he thought a moment before asking, "Then what are you… what are you doing… ya know, here?" he gestured around them.
Confused, Tony lifted his mug, "Uh... coffee?" what did the kid mean what is he doing here? He should think it was fairly obvious.
The kid tilted his head and looked at him as if he was the one being thick. "No. I mean, if not aliens, why is Iron Man in Rockwell?"
Double shit. He had to be found by the one person in a fifty-mile radius that would recognise him. He gave the kid a meaningful look that could have been translated to 'shut up, I'm not really here. Please don't say anything'. Just in case he had left any doubt he said carefully and very quietly, "Officially, no, he's not."
Understanding dawned on Junior's face and he nodded so fast Tony was scared his head might fall off.
Seconds later two things happened simultaneously a large something began climbing the inside his pant leg and a rather attractive brunette came up to the table. If he wasn't so in love with Pepper, in another life maybe he would have flirted with her, preferably in a life where he didn't have some unknown object making it's way up his trousers. What the fuck had the kid created?
"Is my kid bothering you, sir?" The brunette asked kindly a tired smile plastered on her face. This must be the boy's mother. Wow, she looked exhausted. He wondered absently how long she had worked today.
"No? NO!" He forces a strained smile on his face trying hard not to show that SPYDER had found its way to the seat of his pants. God damn, it was uncomfortable. So spiky.
She looked sceptical.
Did the kid often strike up random conversations with strangers? That wasn't safe. He does that in the city he'll likely find himself in one hell of a pickle.
"Ok? Peter honey I thought you were gonna go get your thing?"
Quickly while nobody was looking he shoved the robot back down one leg. It wasn't much better but there was some improvement.
"I will May. Right after I finish talking to Mister-"
"Howard! Howard Potts, at your service." Tony cut the kid off before he blurted out who he really was to the entire restaurant. He tries to flash a winning smile but it comes across as a grimace. That damn robot was back on top of his junk again and it was almost painful. He shoved the bot down again, jiggling his leg a bit. To his relief, the bot dropped back down to his ankle. His relief was short-lived as SPYDER once again started on its quest up his leg.
The kid- Peter- he knew the kid's name now, gave him a strange look before nodding. "Riigght… Mister Potts. Right."
His mother narrowed her eyes at him, "Ok honey. You know where I'll be." She turned back to the rest of the diner collecting empty dishes on her way back to the kitchen. Tony waited for her to be out of earshot before turning to the kid, but the kid had already started talking again.
"That was my Aunt. She takes care of me you know? Just me and her now. She works really hard-"
"Kid! I've found your thing!" Tony cut him off agin, not able to listen to another ten minutes of nonsensical babble from him, whilst a spy bot was dancing on his crotch.
Peter jumped. "Really? Where?" He ducked beneath the booth, searching. Yeah. Bit late for that buddy.
"It's up my leg kid! Whatever you built; it's in my pants! Peter!" He hissed.
"Uhh. Please don't wig out!" Peter panicked, his robot wasn't supposed to do that!
"Ok. Ahh! Nope. It's heading north now."
A pointy, metal leg hit exactly the wrong place. Tony shot out of the booth at lightning speed. He had had enough. This bot was coming out now and the kid was not going to like it. So much for not causing a scene.
He looked apologetically at Peter. "Sorry kid."
He spun around and readied his zipper.
"I'd like to apologize to everybody in advance for this." He unzips his fly letting his jeans drop a couple of inches. He was fairly sure he had just mooned the elderly couple having dinner in the opposite booth.
A small 7 legged thing fell from the top of his pants, clattering to the ground. Wait, only 7 legs? Spiders typically had eight legs. Kid didn't seem like one to overlook something like that. Maybe he ran out of parts or some shit. For something that was thrown together by a 10 year old it wasn't half bad, sturdy little thing it was. Lots of stamina.
Amazingly the small machine righted itself and kept moving. It scurried under an unsuspecting waitress's foot, tripping her up. She landed heavily on the ground in an ungraceful heap. Her tray went soaring in the air, empty mugs flying everywhere. Thank God they were empty he thought; otherwise, that would have hurt a lot more. He needs to find out what those mugs were made of as not one shattered on landing on the hard, tile floor.
He quickly re did his fly as quickly as he could and tried to make himself look somewhat presentable. He notices that he had managed to attract the attention of everyone in the diner. Huh, what could he say? He was born to hold the attention of any room he walked into. He knew there was a high chance someone got that on camera too. Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time the world had seen him with his pants down.
The bot had finally run out of steam, it appeared to have lost two more appendages since bowling over the waiter and had collapsed in a heap three feet from the door. SPYDER gave a pitiful whine before falling to pieces with a puff of smoke.
He was impressed it had lasted that long. Jeans generally weren't the most habitable place for a robot. Peter's Aunt, May, was it? She, on the other hand, was not.
Again Tony was wondering if this was a regular occurrence with the kid.
She put a firm hand on Peter's shoulder while giving a look that started very clearly 'we will be having words later'. Yeesh. Good luck kid. Man, he did not envy him, she looked furious.
"Cheque, please," was all he could say. He wasn't going to interfere with someone else's parenting.
He looked back at the kid who looked beyond guilty. Peter had escaped May's grip to help the waitress up off the floor. He gathered the miraculously unbroken crockery and carefully arranged it back on her tray. Chaotic or not he was a good kid.
"Sorry," he murmured as he handed it back to her.
May brought him the bill for his coffee quietly. Most of the diner had gone back to their meals for which he was thankful. Tony Stark or not, nobody liked to humiliate themselves in public. He paid May, slipping two 50 dollar bills in her tip jar when she wasn't looking. She seemed the type who would perceive it as 'charity'. It wasn't. It wasn't that he thought she needed charity, just that she could use a kind deed and maybe some time off. He didn't need the money so he liked to give it to people where it could make a difference.
Tony couldn't help but empathise with the kid. He had brains and he had talent but nowhere to actually use those talents in a safe environment. Tony could teach him a thing or two. Who was he kidding? He was Tony Stark and Tony Stark didn't teach. He didn't help, he just broke and hurt. The Avengers proved it. But that didn't stop him from throwing one last comment over his shoulder on his way out the door.
"Kid from one inventor to another, not bad. But please do your test runs elsewhere."
Peter preened at the praise, smiling proudly. Dear lord, the kid had even puffed out his chest. Tony hid his grin. This kid. The grin was harder to conceal when the boy winced at May's exasperated gaze. Yeah, he didn't blame her. Good kid or not he was a handful.