Level Up
Peter was having a mini panic attack.
A very silent mini panic attack on the inside, complete with lots of perfectly cut screams. Reason being: the Midtown Decathlon bus had just pulled into view of the Tower’s parking lot.
The bus erupted as kids started excitedly chattering. Speculations flew like spitballs.
“Is that Iron Man’s car?”
“I heard he has robots that do all his house cleaning.”
“Will we see Captain America?” asked Charles, eyes shining like a hopeful little kid on Christmas morning. “Or Thor. I hope we see Thor.”
“Will Thor’s hammer be there?”
“Or that robot guy?”
”What about War Machine? If he was there, I think I’d actually die.”
”I hope Black Widow’s there. She’s really hot,” Flash said boldly, and Peter couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He hoped for Flash’s sake that Natasha never heard him say that. If she did, he'd be eating dirt in a nanosecond with several new dislocated limbs and said assassin’s leather clad knee planted on his back.
But, for once, nobody else payed attention to Flash, their excitement at seeing the Avengers overwhelming everything else.
Even Ned joined in, as Peter had suspected he would. Despite having been to the Tower before with Peter, he acted like the ultimate fanboy, goggling at the gleaming windows and soaring spires of the building with wide, wondering eyes.
“I wanna see the Winter Soldier,” Ned breathed, and behind him MJ rolled her eyes affectionately. “I didn’t get to see him last time."
“Please keep your voice down."
“Yeah, sorry. Or the Hulk. I hope we see the Hulk.”
“No you don’t,” Peter reminded him.
“No I don’t,” Ned echoed dreamily, like he wasn't really comprehending the words. “Or Hawkeye. Man, meeting Hawkeye would be awesome.”
Peter groaned. Shiiiiiit. He hadn’t warned Clint not to interfere, not that it mattered much anyway. The archer heeded nothing and nobody, and if an international peace treaty didn't cow him, nothing would.
On the contrary, Clint would probably go out of his way to embarrass the youngest Avenger to his full capacity.
”Oh my God,” he said. “Clint's here. I'm gonna die. This is it.”
Flash (damn you, Flash) somehow picked up on the words. His strident voice filled the bus like an unwanted rooster at dawn. “Why, Parker? Scared the Avengers will break your little cover-up?”
“Flash, dude—"
But it was useless. The other boy plowed on, full steam ahead. Trainwrecks 101, Starring Flash Thompson. “Yeah, I’m actually embarrassed for you. It’ll be so awkward when you try to pretend you know the Avengers and they cut you down to the level you actually are. Like, wow, sucks to be you right now."
“I’m not going to pretend—“
”Really?” Flash leaned over the seats. There. Now he had everyone’s attention, just how he liked it. “Then admit it. I want to hear you say it. After me, Parker: ‘My internship isn’t real."
“I'm not saying that—'"
"I'm an attention hog," Flash said sing-song, like he was one to talk. "I'm an attention hog and my internship is a big fat lie—"
”Flash,” Mr. Harrington said, sounding bored. “Sit back down. I’m trying to park.”
Flash sat, but didn’t break eye contact with Peter. “Tell me, Parker. Do you know if Thor’s going to be here?”
To be honest, between patrolling and his internship schedule, Peter hadn’t gotten the chance to ask since he learned about the field trip. He answered truthfully. “No. I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to Mr. Stark or Pep–Ms. Potts since last week. And I'm pretty sure Thor's off-world. It's in the news.”
It sounded weak, even to his own ears. A smug smile settled itself on Flash’s face. “I thought so.”
Even friendly Abe gave Peter a disappointed look, as if he had let them all down or something. But before Peter could, oh, I dunno, finish a friggin' sentence to defend himself, a tall, skinny twenty-something with an official Stark Industries name tag stepped onto the bus.
The guy’s head scraped the ceiling as he hunched over, but he smiled warmly at the team with a well-practiced air of authority.
”Hey, guys!” he said cheerfully. “My name’s Emmet,” he gestured to his name tag, “and I’ll be your tour guide today.”
A quiet murmur went around the seats, but most people were tuned out, craning their necks at the Tower.
Ned leaned over to Peter. “Do you know this guy?” he whispered. Peter shook his head. He didn’t interact with a lot of the public relations people—mostly just the technology and biochem interns.
"This place is ginormous," he muttered back. "Can't meet hardly anybody."
Then there was the safety briefing, stay in your group, don't eat stuff, don't mess with the lab equipment, yah yah yah, which Peter tried to listen to. To be honest, it was actually kind of interesting. He could hear snippets of Mr. Stark in some of it, especially in the “say hi to the bots”, “no Phil Coulson slander," and “don’t touch, look at, or breathe filthy germs in the direction of anything that might in any way belong to Mr. Stark.”
All the safety briefing for the public was new to him. Who knew that they had an orientation video available from 9-3 on touring days? Not Peter.
But his mind kept slipping back to the team. What would they do when they saw him walking single file into his home away from home like a tourist. What would FRIDAY say? Mr. Stark? Natasha?
Clint and Sam were the ones he was most worried about. They were the ones most able to wreck havock upon him and his pathetic social life if they wanted to (which they usually did). Thor would also be able to do a lot of damage with his inability to be subtle.
And Mr. Stark...
Well, he couldn’t predict how Mr. Stark would react. With that man, anything was possible. He might treat Peter like a total stranger, or he might poke fun at him the entire time just for kicks.
Whatever the case, shit was about to hit the fan, and Peter had absolutely no control over it. All he could do was try to stay in the back, maybe pull up his hood and hope that nobody noticed him.
Of course, that was too good to be true.
Emmet finished his speech and then sighed. “Well, now that that’s over...”
Everyone perked up, even MJ, though her version of attentive just looked a little less annoyed or lethargic than usual.
From his bag, Emmet pulled a stack of what looked like laminated cards embossed with each of the team's name on them. Everyone began passing them down, goggling at theirs like it was a prized possession.
When Peter got his, he could see why they were excited. It looked so official, with the words Guest of Stark Industries, Home of the Avengers on the left side of each person’s name, and the giant A for the Avengers intertwined with the Stark Industries logo in a simple but aesthetically pleasing fashion.
He wondered who designed them. He could totally see Steve having a blast drawing the blueprints, doodling away in his weekend sweater and reading socks, with some micro-managing from Tony mixed in.
But just seeing it, his heart sank. This would make blending in impossible. It would be like having a target stuck to his front for the whole tour.
And Clint was a perfect shot.
Maybe if he stuck it underneath his hoodie he could slip by unnoticed. Technically, he was still wearing it, even if nobody would see it—
“Hey.” A hand clapped onto his shoulder and drew him up short as he tried to follow the rest of his team off the bus. It was the tour guide, Emmet. He motioned to Peter’s sweatshirt. “Gotta wear your name tag, man.”
”But I am,” Peter protested, lifting up his hoodie to show the name tag.
”We have to be able to see it to scan you in,” Emmet said. Which was patently untrue
”But dude,” Peter begged, knowing it sounded pathetic. “Please?”
Emmet looked truly apologetic as he shook his head. “Sorry, man. Tower policy.”
Peter sighed in resignation, unpinning the name tag from his T-shirt and reattaching it to his sweatshirt. Emmet clapped him on the back before whispering, “We’ve got some weird rules here, but they come from the top. Even when we’re not touring, Mr. Hogan likes us to keep our name tags on display. Just a thing he’s got, I guess.”
Peter nodded. He knew that about Happy, but never did he suspect it would come back to bite him like this.
He stepped out into the parking lot, knowing that the team just heard that whole exchange.
Now’s a good time to flip that hoodie up, Parker, he thought to himself, doing just that and stuffing his hands in his pockets. Flash grinned nastily at him and mouthed, You’re not special, Parker.
Flash, Peter thought, ought to teach a Reddit course on r/pettyrevenge.
The team followed Emmet and Mr. Harrington inside, bubbling with anticipation. Peter plodded along behind, trying to keep toward the back.
Once in the lobby, Emmet led them to the left instead of to the right, which held the elevator Peter used whenever he stayed.
“Wait,” he said before he could catch himself. “Isn’t the elevator that way?”
The team started murmuring and Emmet shot him a slightly bemused frown. “Um, yes, actually, we do have an elevator that way, but that’s for higher up staff. This is the checking zone, as we call it. You'll all be going through security here.”
Peter nodded. Shit. Zip it, stupid. Keep your fat mouth closed.
Then he froze in his tracks as his mind rewound what Emmet just said. Ned bumped into him from behind. “Peter, you good?”
”Yeah yeah yeah,” Peter said absentmindedly. “Just gotta...”
He jogged to the front of the group, garnering a nasty leer from Flash and a curious smile from Mr. Harrington. Fall into step with the tour guide, he muttered, “Wait, you said there was scanning?”
Emmet gazed warily down the length of his long, thin nose. “Nametag Kid, er, Mr....”—he checked the godforsaken name tag—“Parker. Yeah, like I said, there's a scanning protocol in place for any group that steps on the premises. Given that you guys are state-sponsored guests, your group has access to 'certain, private areas' that make security an extra emphasis. "
“And us being here—is that, like, put on the digital record?”
“For security purposes, yes. Any problems with that?” Emmet's tone suggested that he was beginning to develop a problem with Peter.
Time to retreat.
“No no no, no problem at all.” Peter fell back to where Ned and MJ were walking, mind piecing together parts of the puzzle. Emmet’s suspicious stare tailed him the whole way.
“You look stressed. What’s up?” Ned asked when he sidled in between them.
“Remember when he said they were scanning our name tags?” Peter asked, trying to keep his voice low. His friends nodded. “Well, we’re going through security, and I’m pretty sure there’s no way I can hide when we do.”
“Okay," MJ responded mildly. “Good? Right? You want the security to see you, unless you're, like, carrying a Molotov or something."
He jabbed her and she grunted with annoyance. “What is with the two of you and not being able to keep a freaking cover?" They both ducked their heads, looking properly chastised. “Besides, that's not the point. Emmet said they upload it, and I'd really not like a magic, all-knowing security camera blasting my name out to the whole company database, thanks. Not my idea of a good time."
“What's with the hiding schtick?” MJ asked. “You're here all the time.”
”Because...” Peter looked around. Nobody was watching. Flash was yammering on in Abe’s ear about how much Captain America was going to love him. “Because I don’t want the Avengers to know I’m here.”
A moment of silence, as, up ahead, "All unattended baggage will be reported to SI employees and disposed of as the manager sees fit," until MJ threw her hands up in fierce exasperation.
“Peter, did you listen to anything the good guide told us?"
"Yeah."
"Then you might've heard the tiny bit where he said we're not going past the employee facilities."
"Yeah, you say that now, but you don't know persistence until the Falcon is out your blood."
”But why?!” Ned’s voice rang out. He clamped a hand over his mouth as people turned. Lowering his voice, he asked again. “But, dude, why? They love you!”
”They love embarrassing me, too,” Peter corrected him. “And I don’t want to give Flash any more reasons to tease me. I’m never going to live down getting teased by the Avengers. Or not getting teased by the Avengers. Or not seeing the Avengers in the first place. God, I'm kinda screwed no matter what.”
”All the more reason to let them see you,” MJ pointed out. “Flash is gonna have to acknowledge that the internship’s real and that he’s been an asshole to a friend of the Avengers.”
Ned sighed blissfully, clearly not seeing Peter’s dilemma. “I’d love to be teased by the Avengers.”
Peter groaned. “Guys, really...”
By the time the group stopped in front of the large, glass rectangle with alternating green and red squares, Peter's hands were damp with sweat and stress. Emmet waved to get everyone’s attention.
“Guys! Listen up. Okay, here’s the newly renovated Stark deTechtor.” Peter rolled his eyes at the name. “And it’s just here for safety precautions, just in case anybody’s stupid enough to try to bring a bomb or a phone inside New York’s most highly guarded building.”
Emmet’s eyes lingered on each of them (Peter a little longer than the rest), slowly letting them consider their own shortcomings, before continuing. “It was developed in Mr. Stark’s own labs by some of his most advanced interns and scientists. And, of course, by Mr. Stark.”
”Hey!” Flash cut in and they all jumped a little. “Do you guys hire high schoolers as interns?”
Motherf—
”No. Typically, interns are at least 18 years of age and are enrolled in a highly accredited university or institution. Either that, or they are hand-selected scholarship students by Ms. Potts herself. Stark Industries is very particular about who they hire. Why? Do you want to intern here when you’re older?”
Flash puffed out his chest, a bit like a sage-grouse, or a disgruntled duck. “Actually, yeah. I’ve been planning on applying since I was really little. And some kid at our school says he’s applied, but nobody believes him.”
”Yeah, it’s very rare that a person under college age would be accepted,” Emmet said, nodding. “And it’s great that you’d like to apply. What’s your name? Sorry, can’t see your name tag from here.”
Flash preened. ”Flash. Flash Thompson.”
James Bond did it better, Peter thought, but didn’t say it out loud. Instead, he lined up behind everyone else, doing his utmost to fly under the radar. Emmet shot him a pointed look.
Flash, of course, had shoved his way to the front of the line, right after Emmet and Mr. Harrington.
Their tour guide stepped forward first, head facing forward. A film of blue light washed over him, and a small beep! came from the gateway.
”Emmet Anderson. Guide, Level Four. Clear,” said a voice from above, and everybody jumped, including Peter. Flash startled so badly he tripped over his own feet, then caught himself and tried to act like it didn’t happen. “Welcome, Emmet.”
Peter began cursing everything about his life. Why, why, why was FRIDAY programmed into this stupid gateway? Why did the world hate him? Just call him Peter "Murphy's Law" Parker for all the shit that tried to do him in on a daily basis.
He begged silently to any omnipotent being that Mr. Stark hadn’t programmed him in separately.
“That’s FRIDAY,” Emmet explained as everyone oohed and aahed. “She’s Mr. Stark’s personal AI. She essentially runs all the technological day-to-day functions of the place: security cameras, computers, electricity, you name it. She’s friendly to just about everyone, unless you’ve really done something to piss the Avengers off.” He paused. “Which obviously none of you have done.”
”What’s the level thing?” Sally asked. Peter was wondering the same thing.
”Oh, it’s just where you are in the staff. Important visitors are often Level Two. Interns are usually Level Three. More experienced staff can be Four to Five. Foreign ambassadors or people high up in power are Six to Seven, along with SHIELD agents.” A few whispers at the mention of SHIELD. “Eight is people in charge of certain departments. Nine would be interns to the people up top and people who work directly with the Avengers. Ten is for the Avengers and certain select people such as family or people selected for other reasons that I’m not allowed to say. Depending on what level you are, certain portions of the Tower are accessible. For instance, only Level Ten people are allowed in the Avenger’s living quarters.”
Chatter began as soon as Emmet mentioned the Avengers, and he had to raise his hand for quiet. “Only Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts are allowed in the penthouse.”
”What level are we?” Flash asked.
”You all will be Level One.”
Flash looked thoroughly let-down with that answer.
Mr. Harrington walked through next, and only a few people jumped this time when FRIDAY’s voice announced, “Roger Harrington. Visitor, Level One. Clear. Welcome, Roger.”
A couple kids snickered at “Roger,” but most people just looked at the gateway in awe. Probably excited that FRIDAY was going to say their name.
Flash puffed up his chest, dusted off his already clean button down, and walked through.
Instantly, red lights flared to life, and a wailing siren pealed through the lobby. Peter cringed away from the noise. Flash just stood frozen in shock, his moment ruined.
All around, employee heads snapped their way as security guards barged forward. Flash put his hands up with a whimper.
”FRIDAY,” barked one of the guards. “Scan him for fluids or explosives!”
A bright red light ran over Flash before all alarms cut off, leaving the team cowering and Flash covered in guards.
”Visitor appears to be carrying a handheld device,” FRIDAY announced. “No wireless devices detected. All clear.”
All the guards but one dispersed. The guard held out her hand, and Flash just looked at it in shock.
”Phone,” she barked.
”But I wanted to—“
”PHONE!”
Flash handed over his phone. The lady took it with a glare and made her way to the desk.
Emmet looked disappointed. “Were you not listening during the safety briefing? No phones allowed during a tour. It's a very strict rule for hacking purposes.”
“But I wanted to take a photo with—“ Flash began, but Emmet cut him off with a look.
“Aspiring intern or no, you need to leave all electronics on the bus.”
”But,” Flash spluttered, pointing at Mr. Harrington’s phone. “He has one.”
”He is your chaperone and you are minors. It’s needed for safety, and we installed StarkTech VPN.”
Flash looked like someone had kicked his puppy. “Where are you taking my phone?”
”We’re keeping it at the front desk until the tour is over,” Emmet told him. “Now, go through again.”
Flash walked through with slumped shoulders.
”Eugene Thompson,” FRIDAY said like the words left a nasty taste in her mouth. “Visitor, Level One. Clear.”
Peter noticed she left off the “Welcome” at the end.
***
The rest of the scans went without incident. Ned jumped a little when FRIDAY said, “Edward Leeds. Visitor, Level Two. Clear. Welcome, Ned!” and the whole class erupted in speculative chatter.
Peter grinned as Ned’s eyes shone, and as he basked in the split second glory, Peter could practically hear his thoughts: That’s so cool.
The line in front of Peter was shrinking rapidly, until suddenly, he was the only one left standing on this side of the scanner. Flash, fully recovered from his own humiliation, sent a confident smirk Peter’s way.
Are you there, God, it's me, Margaret—I mean, Peter.
Peter took a deep breath, and walked forward.
Beep!
“Peter Parker,” FRIDAY’s voice rang out. “Intern, Level Ten—“
Peter’s stress levels skyrocketed. “FRIDAY, FRIDAY stop!”
”Hello, Peter.” FRIDAY’s voice brimmed with more affection than any programming could produce. “Welcome, back. Shall I tell Mr. Stark that you’ve arrived?”
”Nononono, please don’t do that,” Peter begged. This was exactly what he had dreaded would happen. All his classmates, even Ned and MJ, were ogling him him, slack-jawed and faces ashen in pure shock. “Don’t—just, don’t tell anyone. Okay?”
FRIDAY’s voice was teasing as she said, “Whatever you want, Peter. Clear.”
Peter’s face burned hotter than the sun as he walked the rest of the way through. Quickly, he snuck a glance at Flash, and immediately regretted it.
Flash looked livid. His brow was scrunched, cheeks flushed, and mouth folded deep in a snarl. Hatred burned in his eyes.
Oh, boy. I’m paying for that.