Rising to the Challenge

A year had passed, but Peter barely registered the date. The first few months were rough. He missed May, he didn’t know if Ben was okay, and he was getting used to these strange people who approached the world in a fundamentally different manner than anything he had ever seen before.  

He had been put in school as soon as Wade had realized that was something that should be taken care of. He didn’t mind his new school. He was enrolled as Peter Wilson, given he still hadn’t told Wade his last name. It had started becoming a joke – he trusted his dad with his life, but not his surname.

“Get up kid, it’s time for school!”

“Come on, five more minutes?”

“When you’re a teenager, maybe.”

Peter groaned as he moved towards his dresser and started getting ready. Because Wade’s apartment was, for the most part, a single room with a kitchen tucked open and in the corner and a bathroom attached in what amounted to a closet with a bathtub and toilet, Wade had gotten permission from his landlord to work with some buddies to set up a loft area for Peter. The ladder even came up in case anything happened at Wade’s work and Peter needed to hide. Lining it up with the railing would block most of the loft from sight, and the things on the side would make it look like storage.

Scrambling down the ladder, Peter shrugged a sweater on over his clothes.

“Good.” Wade gestured from the small kitchen towards him. “It’s gonna be cold today, and you’re already too skinny to stay warm”

“Gee, thanks, Dad.”

Wade ruffled his hair before sticking a finger in his ear. “Eat up. Nassrin is taking you to school today.”

Nassrin Amari was their landlady, and she had two kids that went to Peter’s school. She knew a lot more about his dad’s work than Peter did, but always told him that she would explain when he was older.

A lot of adults said that.

He liked Nassrin, though. ‘Mrs. Almari’ was a widow, and she was always willing to have Peter over when his dad was working nights.

Eating his breakfast as fast as he could and grabbing his bag, Peter hugged Wade around his leg while the man pulled his stuff together for work and yelled “See ya tonight, Dad!” as he ran out the door to meet with Mrs. Almari.

May Parker looked at the calendar. She still hadn’t found Peter, and the police had given up. If she hadn’t found him yet, they said, she probably wouldn’t. Anything could have happened – he could have been trafficked, killed, or worse. He could have been taken in by someone, but she didn’t think anyone who could find his family – and she had put out so many notices and ads looking for him – would keep him away from her.

She looked at the calendar, and she cried for the first time in weeks. She had thought she was getting better. Thought she was getting over losing him.

Grabbing her phone, she dialed her work. Her boss knew this was coming, knew she wasn’t in the right headspace for work. But she had told him she would do her best.

He didn’t even wait for her to say hello before saying ‘take as much time as you need.’

May wept, and she stayed inside her apartment that day, reading all of the books she could that had been Peter or Ben’s favorites. She would have to move on, but now wasn’t the time to try it.

Tony Stark shouted in frustration. A year had gone by and he hadn’t found the kid. He sat at his workstation in the lab and started getting to work on the project he had started to distract himself. The kid had to be out there – he had to be. There was no way he could fail this, he could fail to find a kid. He had been seven years old – how could he give up on a seven year old?

But he hadn’t made any progress. He hadn’t found him, and he hadn’t been able to help May.

Stumbling through the code, Tony looked at a block of it. On a whim, he entered in code to make the AI constantly run searches for a ‘Peter Benjamin Parker’ or some variation of that, taking into account the photo of Peter he had. Another several lines accounted for aging the photo up as much as could be done while maintaining a plausible accuracy.

He might not be able to keep searching in all his free time – Rhodey had already told him that while it was a kindness, he shouldn’t obsess – but he could have someone, something doing it for him.

Peter smiled as St Mary’s came into view. He walked there alone after school everyday to spend time with Weasel until his dad picked him up. The other mercs greeted him, some more gruffly than others, but overall pleasantly. Weasel always said he was like the only piece of light in the dingy and depressing center where they all congregated and found work, but Peter had to think they had something that wasn’t alcohol or their work.

He knew he was being idealistic. Wade had told him one night, after a really tough assignment that had almost cost him his life, that Peter was the brightest thing in his life. That if it came down to choosing between himself and Peter, it wasn’t even a question. In true Wade fashion, though, he followed it up with “But don’t you dare be a dick about it, you hear that? The second you start throwing yourself in danger, all bets are off, kid.”

He knew that wasn’t true, though. Wade didn’t like to be serious, so they weren’t. It wasn’t how they rolled. If things got heavy, the tension was always broken by Wade cracking a joke or Peter reading from whatever book he had gotten at the library most recently.

Wade did his best. He tried to keep what he could about his job from Peter, and the other mercs were more than willing to keep it quiet. They helped Wade by trying not to swear, to fight, to talk about work while the kid was around. It didn’t leave much other than small talk and bar games for them, but it was a lot lighter in St Mary’s now.

“Hey, kid.” Weasel tapped his shoulder. “My aunt died. Left me this old piano. It’s yours if you want it.”

“Really?”

Peter had wanted to learn something. It seemed like fun, being able to play an instrument.

“Yeah, just ask your dad.”

“Thanks, Weasel!”

A hand ruffled his hair. “No problem, kid.”

“Oh! I met this really cool kid, today! Her name was Haley, and she can’t hear! Our teacher says she doesn’t know sign language, but she did pretty well with hand gestures and stuff.”

Weasel nodded, letting him babble on as he stood on an old shelving unit to reach the bar. Peter took orders and made drinks or plated food just as Weasel had taught him. He had gotten pretty good at it over the last year.

“At the rate you’re doing this I’m going to need to start paying you. Damn it.”

“Come on, Weasel. To be above board, you gotta wait till I’m 14.”

“Nothing about this place is legal. You really think I’m going to wait that long to comp you for your labor?” Weasel shook his head. “I’ll talk to Wade.”

“Dad’ll say you’re getting soft.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Peter sent Weasel a cheeky grin, pouring out the vodka shot for Buck while Weasel grumbled at him. He grabbed the remote, switching the channel. There was a tall man on, wearing an air force uniform. Peter’s head shot up when the voice reached his ears, starting to get excited at seeing him.

“That’s James Rhodes!”

“Nice, kid. Who’s that?” Weasel spared a glance at Peter to make sure nothing got broken while trying to place the face.

“James ‘The War Machine’ Rhodes?” Peter was aghast. “Dad’s unit worked with his a couple years back. According to Dad, he’s a real stand-up guy. Really smart too! Went to MIT and everything!”

“MIT?” Weasel nodded at him. “That where you want to go after high school, then?”

“Dad says it’s really hard to get in, so I’ve been doing some stuff on my own to get ready now.”

“Ten years away, kid.”

“Not too early to start preparing.” Peter shrugged. “There’s a science high school in Queens I could go to. It’s hard to get in if you’re out of district, but they take a couple of applicants every year. Figured I could start doing some work now to get on their radar.”

“Your dad would do anything to help you get where you want to be.” It went unsaid that the last thing Wade wanted was for Peter to follow in his footsteps.

“Yeah. I don’t want it to be something he has to worry about, though.” Peter grabbed an empty glass off the counter, moving it to the sink and starting to wash up the growing pile of dishes. Shouting over the running water, Peter grabbed his makeshift stool, glancing at Weasel as he moved to start washing. “I can do this on my own.”

“Kid, you’re nine. You’ve got six years before high school, and your dad thinks that tech stuff is cool, even if he pretends otherwise. Tell him about it. He’ll probably start learning it with you.

“God knows he could use a skill that isn’t…”

“That isn’t...?”

Weasel waved Peter off. “He needs a less dangerous skillset. Let’s just put it that way.”

Peter was quiet a moment. The kid was almost never quiet, but right now he was. It threw Weasel for a loop. “You guys don’t say it. I know you’re trying to protect me, but I know what Dad does. I know it’s illegal, too. He only goes after bad guys, though, right?”

“Yeah, kid. He doesn’t like going after innocent people. It’s not his style.”

“So he’s kind of doing the right thing.”

“You could make that argument.”

Peter didn’t talk much after that. He left early to go back home.