"Alright, Parker. Have fun in the lab. I'm looking forward to seeing what that little brain of yours can create." Tony Stark dropped his keys in Peter's eagerly outstretched palm. "Don't do anything I would do."

"You can count on me, Mr. Stark," Peter promised.

He stood as tall as his five-foot-six-inch height would allow and puffed his chest proudly. Stark still easily stood a head taller than him.

"Most importantly," Stark said putting his hand firmly on Peter's shoulder. "Don't mess with my suits."

Peter looked nervously at the large hand, then at his own reflection in Tony's mirrored sunglasses.

"Uh, of course," he stammered unconvincingly.

"Promise me, Peter," Stark said, whipping off the glasses and glaring directly into Peter's dilating pupils. "You won't touch the suits."

"I promise, Mr. Stark," Peter said with the feigned bravado of youth. "Your suits are safe with me."

"That's my boy. I'm trusting you to take good care of the place while I'm gone." Stark replaced his glasses and grinned down at Peter. "Other than that, have a good time. I'll see you when I'm bored of Aruba."

Peter watched through the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows as the Lamborghini drove off. When the car had disappeared over the hill, Peter retreated to the laboratory.

"Wow!" Peter exclaimed to no one. "This is so cool!"

The lab was an underground bunker with very high ceilings. Stark's experiments and creations were strewn about the room. The many aluminium tables were crowded with the smaller gadgets. The larger ones, including a small plane, something resembling a cannon, and, to Peter's delight, a half-completed prototype Spider-Man suit, were on the ground. Ten Iron Man suits were lined up around the room like sentinels.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" He asked the aether tentatively as he looked around at the various projects, machinery parts, and computer screens surrounding him.

"Yes, Mr. Parker. How can I assist you?" a disembodied female voice answered in a sweet Irish Brogue from the speakers hidden in the walls.

"Umm… Can you play some music?" Peter wonders if he will ever get used to taking to the A.I. voice.

"Certainly. What would you like to hear? Mr. Stark has an exhaustive collection," F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded.

Peter wracked his brain for some good housesitting music. ""I don't know. What does Mr. Stark like to listen to?"

"Mr. Stark has listened to the playlist "Tony's Party Mix" six-hundred and sixteen times," F.R.I.D.A.Y. stated.

"Okay," Peter said cheerfully. "I can listen to that."

The music started playing without another word from the A.I. It took Peter a few moments to recognize Black Sabbath's "Iron Man." He rolled his eyes at the musical selection, but it wasn't long before he was dancing around the room.

Peter was using an electric screwdriver as a microphone and singing along to The Beastie Boys "Fight For Your Right" while moonwalking on the ceiling. That's when he thought he heard a series of beeps followed by a high-pitched whirring sound.

There was movement in the corner of Peter's vision. It almost looked like something had hid behind one of the Iron Man suits. The first one of the left.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.!" Peter yelled over the music. "Turn off the music."

The music immediately shut off.

"There's no need to shout, Mr. Parker," F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s annoyed voice cut through the deafening silence. "I can hear you just fine."

"SHHHHH!" Peter hushed the A.I., listening for suspicious sounds.

"HUMPH!" F.R.I.D.A.Y. exclaimed in a disgruntled voice, but then went silent.

The whirring continued. Peter cautiously approached the leftmost Iron Man. It was just as quiet and motionless as its brothers. No matter how many times Peter saw these suits standing around lifeless, he always expected Tony to be inside. It unnerved him now to be surrounded by them.

Peter carefully looked behind each one, but found nothing that looked out of the ordinary. Standing in front of the last Iron Man, he shook his head, feeling foolish.

"It's all in my head," Peter laughed. "You guys are all sleeping. Plus, Ms. Cranky Computer would tell me if there was an intruder here."

Peter clapped the suit on its broad metallic shoulder as he said the word "intruder." He stumbled backwards when the suit's eyes and arc-light lit up.

"Intruder! Intruder! Intruder!" Tony's voice boomed from the robot mouth. It had an unnaturally tinny sound. "Defense mode!"

"I was invited!" Peter protested.

The suit aimed the repulsor on it's right palm at Peter's chest. Peter stared into the increasingly bright light for a tenth of a second before springing out of the way. A small fireball lit up the spot he had been sitting a flash later. He poised in a crouch waiting for the next blast.

The next shot came right on the heels of the first. It scorched the tile less than a foot from Peter.

"Whew! That was too close!" Peter exclaimed.

He leapt over to the Spider-Man prototype and snatched the web-shooter off its arm. He snapped it on his own wrist and pointed it at the attacking Iron Man. He shot a sticky blob of web into the repulsor. It stuck with a wet PLOP!

The suit started to raise its other arm toward Peter. He shot a long rope of webbing at the suit, trying to lasso it. He caught it's arm and anchored the web to the wall.

"The intruder is armed!" A second Iron Man proclaimed raising its own repulsor at Peter. "Offensive mode activated!"

"Oh, for goodness sakes!" Peter groaned. "Not you too."

He braced himself for battle.

"Offensive mode activated!" A third Iron Man declared from across the room.

"Offensive mode activated!" Said a fourth.

As Peter watched in horror, the rest of the suits powered up and aimed their repulsors at him.

"A little help, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" He called out shakily.

"Certainly," the confident Irish voice replied.

"Fight For Your Right" resumed its playing.

"That's not exactly what I meant," Peter muttered as he dove behind a pile of twisted metal scrap.

"You'll have to be more specific." F.R.I.D.A.Y. sounded more exasperated than should have been possible for a artificial intelligence.

The music stopped.

"TURN OFF THE IRON MANS... Uh, MEN!" Peter shouted as the suits advanced on him like a line of well-trained soldiers. "TURN THEM OFF!"

"As you wish," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said in a calm voice.

A second later, the Iron Man suits froze in place. Peter looked up at the eerie tableau around him. He rose tentatively, dusting himself off. He laughed nervously.

"It's probably best not to mention this to Mr. Stark," Peter told himself.

Suddenly a metal red and gold hand landed heavily on Peter's shoulder. His startled scream echoed in the cavernous room.

"I'm gone for five minutes and look what you do to the place," Stark sounded angry.

"Mr. Stark!" Peter squeaked. "It wasn't me! The suits just went crazy! They were going to kill me!"

Stark laughed and popped his face shield open.

"You weren't playing The Beastie Boys, were you?" He asked.

Peter nodded.

"Yeah," Stark said sheepishly. "They hate The Beastie Boys."