3 Weeks Later...

Peter Parker sat at his workstation as he wrote down the Web Formula: Version 3. It had been 3 or 4 weeks since he had taken up the mantle of 'Spider-Man'. Going to a science school had its perks after all. Peter loved science; he also loved coming up with new ideas for the web formula, adding new chemicals. It was either to make it stronger, flexible, or just for fun. Hmm, maybe he could make a web grenade.

Normally, he wouldn't be working on this at school, risk of a prying eye classmate taking a quick peek and then it was all over. But luckily for him, Trey was his lab partner.

Speaking of the devil...

"So, like, how can you climb walls? Adhesive gloves? Oh, does the webbing come from your body?! That would be SO cool! How'd you make the webbing? Wait - are you making the webbing right now?!"

Peter internally groaned; it was question after question. They just kept on coming and coming. Ever since Trey had found out he was Spider-Man (he didn't come up with the name, the public did), all he did was ask a million questions. Such as why the name 'Spider-Man' (he didn't pick the name!) or why -

Trey scrunched his nose as he looked into the microscope, "Also, why spandex? I mean, no offense, the costume's cool and all, but spandex?" Peter rolled his eyes to the heavens at his friend, mixing up a blue liquid chemical into an orange chemical in the tube, a whirlwind brewing inside. "I don't know. It was the cheapest thing I could find." he begrudgingly answered, sliding open the side drawers at the station, keeping a close eye at his teacher so he wouldn't get caught.

Rapidly, he poured in the murky chemical into the beaker, and in an instant, smoke puffed out slightly, immediately exploding into a watery web, overflowing the edge of the once-clear beaker. Web Version 3 was a more liquidy web, so he could blast them at criminals and bad guys, it was stickier and messier, and WAY harder to get out of.

Trey's eyes practically bulged, mouth set in an 'o', before he finally regained himself, "Holy shit! That's so cool!" he hissed excitedly, bouncing on his toes, before faltering slightly, "Wait - I thought you said that the webbing is organic, why are you making your own?"

At that question, Peter shrugged one shoulder awkwardly, worrying his bottom lip, "Uh - I don't know. Guess the homemade version I made is stronger than the organic one, I guess. Trust me - you don't wanna know," his spine shivered at the memory of using the organic webbing. It wasn't as strong as his manufactured one, or that dependable, but don't judge him; he liked science.

Trey nodded, going back to twisting the knob on his microscope, Peter writing down noted as he described the substance he was seeing, frantically scribbling down the notes, while also glancing at the clock every five seconds.

Ten minutes passed, Trey puking out what he was seeing, the other scribbling the notes down in the composition notebook, eyes flickering over to the clock at the back of the room. After another ten, Trey rolled his eyes, huffing exasperatedly, "What?" he barked quietly, eyes slightly annoyed at Peter's turned head.

Flinching in surprise, Peter turned his head back at his friend, brows shooting up, "What?"

Trey pointed a finger at the clock, the corners of his lips twitching, "You know what. Why do you keep looking at the clock, I thought you were a science nerd?"

The arachnid-teen shrugged in response, "I-I don't know. Guess - guess I'm just itching to punch out a few bad guys?" he offered weakly, frowning.

Face grimacing into an odd look, nodding slowly, before looking back at the microscope, "You are the strangest person I've ever been friends with," he murmured under his breath, which Peter could only pick up on with his enhanced hearing.

"Can you lay eggs?"

Face flushing a bright red, Peter's eyes grew wide, and he sharply turned his head to his friend, "What?!" he hissed, careful for his mean landlord, Mr. Dikovitch, not to hear. Shivering at the thought, he answered, "No, I cannot lay eggs. Well - a-at least - I don't think I can. Hopefully not," he whispered, he and Trey quickly climbing up the stairs.

Ugh, how many more questions? Haven't I answered enough? he thought to himself. But inside he was grateful that Trey knew. It meant he didn't have to keep a secret from one less person. He was glad he could tell somebody all about this, to finally just let it all out. It was like relieving his stress. But the questions were pretty annoying. He didn't even ask Trey anything about his uncle.

As he fished for his keys in his back pocket, the door across from them flew open, revealing a girl. She looked no older than eighteen, tanned skin, brown eyes, and blonde hair accompanied by with a kind smile, almost shy as she held a plate in her hands.

"Hey, Pete. I, umm, I just wanted to see if you guys wanted to try some of my cookies. Fresh from the oven," Ursula, daughter of the landlord, asked shyly, holding out the paper plate of chocolate chip cookies in front of them.

Ursula was pretty nice. She graduated a little while ago and was attending a cooking college. And Peter couldn't blame her; the girl was a pretty good cook. When he and his aunt first moved in, she knocked at their door and offered them a welcome chocolate and coconut cake, and it was REALLY good in Peter's opinion. She was very different from her father, who was always demanding rent from every tenant.

Trey smirked at the girl, swaying a little closer, Peter rolling her eyes with a ghost of a smile, taking a step forward and accepting the paper plate, "Uh, sure, Ursula. Though I think we both know they're delicious, I mean, you are the best cook I've ever met - but don't tell May that."

Chuckling, Ursula nodded, "Got it." she outstretched a hand towards Trey, smiling politely, "Hi, I'm Ursula. You must be the famous Trey I've heard about." she greeted kindly.

Trey slowly nodded, eyes in a daze, his hand slowly shaking hers, lips brushing the back of her hand with a flirtatious grin. The blonde giggled embarrassedly, pink speckling her cheeks, holding a hand to her cheek.

Peter held the plate of cookies, rolling his eyes with an annoyed huff, dragging Trey, who made a surprised noiss, by the back of his shirt, farewelling Ursula, who merely waved a sheepish hand, closing the door for them.

"Quick question, boss...why are you throwing a party, again?" Happy Hogan asked as he held a silver Stark tablet in his hand, wearing the usual suit, partially annoyed. But who wouldn't be when you work for Stark?

The Man Of the Hour himself was rummaging through his closet, eyes scanning and skimming at his monstrosity of a closet. "Because...Wanda mentioned something about never going to an actual party, and I'm bored, so that's that." Stark answered with a suave grin.

"Right," Happy sarcastically agreed with a roll of his eyes, scrolling through the guest list, he paused for a second, raising an eyebrow, "You're inviting Fury to the party? Really, Tony?" Happy deadpanned.

Tony chuckled at that, one hand holding onto a hanger with a blue jacket, the other rummaging for another one, "I'm sure Eyepatch won't mind. I'm inviting him and his nephew, Trey. He seems like a nice kid."

"How?"

Stark's signature smirk stretched across his lips, "He's nothing like his uncle," and that earned a laugh from the driver/bodyguard. He continued to scroll through the guest list, nodding to himself every once and a while.

Tony Stark was exhausted. Mentally and Physically. But more Mentally. He was bored. HYDRA had seemingly stopped going after the Avengers and SHIELD, helping them being rebuilt and all that. And paying Midtown Science High School for accidentally blowing a hole through their roof of the gymnasium. What? It was an accident! Seriously, people...

Which is why he was thankful for his brilliant intern. It was fun having someone take care of old projects and passing on wisdom or whatever shit it was. His intern was nice, shy as hell, and a little clumsy. Like he said earlier, Peter reminded him of a little puppy. Least he didn't pee on his floor. But that would be more messy than funny.

Basically, he was bored. And as much as he wanted to look more into the new spider-hero...Pepper said he wasn't allowed to unless it was necessary. But the Spider-Man did intrigue him. Lots of people in the news spoke very highly of him. Although the Bugle was another story, but unfortunately no one could get a decent picture of the guy. He was pretty fast from what he's heard.

"Hey, did you make sure to invite the kid?" he asked Happy, fully turning around with two suit jackets in his hands, one blue and the other black. Happy gave him a flatter than board expression, "You seriously wanna have two teenage boys to a party? With grownups?" he deadpanned.

Happy didn't know Fury's nephew, he only knew the intern, Peter Parker. He seemed like a nice kid, he kinda reminded him of Tony. But what was Stark thinking of inviting teenagers to a grownup gathering? Tony was never exactly crazy about kids, but he was glad he was growing up a little. A little. Not a lot.

"Hey, for your information, those two boys aren't exactly buzzkills. I'm sure they'll get along. Maybe they'll bring in a date," Tony suggested with a wink, Happy rolling his eyes, adding Peter Parker to the list.

"Oh, have you noticed something weird with that glider guy, boss?" Happy asked after a moment or two.

At that question, the billionaire clicked his teeth, frowning, "Yeah, I've heard about that. It's basically the news is talking about other than that spider-guy. Why you ask?" Tony frowned curiously at his driver, brows furrowed. Happy shrugged, "They say the glider guy tends to fly around the tower sometimes at night. He doesn't do anything. He just flies around the tower in circles a few times and takes off. I was just wondering if you knew anything about that."

Tony shook his head, "JARVIS might've mentioned something about that a while ago. I wouldn't worry about it too much. But just for safety measures," he looked up at the ceiling, "J, tell me anything if the glider guy comes by again - or just does anything in general that we should be concerned about,"

Right away, Sir, came the artificial reply.

He was hovering in the woods, birds idly chirping by, squirrels squeaking and gnawing on their nuts, bright green and grown trees everywhere. He stood on silver, sharp glider, his green suit glittering against the faded sunlight, the skies fading into an orangy pink.

Glaring, yellow eyes stared distantly into a particular building with the famous 'A' logo, growling like a feral beast.

Softly, barely above a whisper, he sang, "I'm coming for you, Stark. I'm coming for you,"

And in an instant, he flew off, fading into the sea of trees.

A plot brewing inside his head.

Sorry. I know. It's not our best work. Div and I promise the next one will be longer. We just needed a build-up for the upcoming plot arc. I hope this will keep you guys on your toes. See ya soon.