-click.

Peter awoke suddenly, tense and alert. His spider sense buzzed softly, before quieting.

He was in his room in the Avengers Tower, in the Young Minds floor. The room looked gray, faintly illuminated by the before-dawn light.

He listened.

There was the faint click of a door latching shut. Not in Peter's room. It came from the room next to Peter's.

Dr. Banner's room.

Peter glanced at the clock. It was 3:28 A.M. What was Dr. Banner doing out of his rooms this early?

Peter had been dreaming just before his spider sense had woken him up. He couldn't remember what the dream was about, but it had been a nightmare.

Had he talked or made any noise in his sleep? Maybe Dr. Banner had thought Peter was breaking curfew and had gone over to Peter's door to listen in, to see if he was awake.

Or maybe Dr. Banner was just doing his job as chaperone and making sure no one was breaking curfew.

Frustrated, Peter rolled back over, hissing through his teeth as a jab of pain shot up his ribs. The pain had faded from its intense, mind-numbing heat to more of a very, very nasty bruise kind of pain. It still hurt. But by morning, he should be able to walk around without causing any suspicion.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to fall back asleep.

Peter didn't.

After a few minutes of uselessly scrunching his eyes shut, Peter gave up.

He tumbled out of bed and padded over to his suitcase. His hand reached for some clothes.

Peter paused. The suit sat innocently wrapped in a jacket. It was 3:30 in the morning. He could go out as Spider-Man for a little bit. His ribs weren't that injured…

"Don't you dare."

Peter dropped his hand as quickly as he could, whirling around, adopting the most innocent look he could.

It was SUSANNA. Peter hadn't thought it was possible for an AI to sound tired, but SUSANNA did. She sounded downright exhausted.

"What?"

He'd winced. Peter had been going for slightly defensive. It came out confused.

"I know you, Peter Parker. And I know exactly what that hand was about to reach for."

He put his hands up.

"I'm well enough to go out as Spider-Man and I'm not getting any sleep, anyways."

SUSANNA was incredulous.

"You're well enough to go out? Are you crazy? You might have enhanced healing, but I bet if I got a glimpse at those ribs, there would still be a bruise the size of Texas there. And your wrist! How are you supposed to websling across the city with a sprained wrist?

"Swing one-handed?" Peter offered weakly.

There was a snort. Peter wasn't quite sure how, because SUSANNA had no air to snort out.

"Or, you could spend the time working on the project you have to turn in by the end of the five weeks instead. It better be genius, or people are going to ask questions about what you do with your time."

SUSANNA sounded unusually severe. She didn't bother infusing her conversation with funny sarcasm or irony. Peter wasn't quite sure what to do. Yes, his computer program had emotions, but moods?

"...how you feeling?"

"What?"

The tone of his AI's voice made him wonder if he'd grown two heads. Peter glanced his reflection in the window. No, he hadn't.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay."

SUSANNA's voice may have been reassuring, but it didn't reassure him. Peter was reminded of how young she technically was. Sure, she was theoretically the smartest being in existence, but she needed experience, just like a human. Humans took years to understand emotions, and even when they died it was unlikely they understood them fully. SUSANNA had existed for six days. She was an infant.

All the events, everything that had happened would have caused emotion in her. Peter had built her system so the emotion was more prominent based on the severity of the event. There'd been a lot of severe events yesterday.

So what was bothering her?

Peter had an idea of what it could be.

"Did JARVIS or Stark damage your systems?"

"...A little, but I'm going to fix them as soon as you go to the lab. And JARVIS is a computer. He had a command and he was just doing his job."

Did she sound defensive for JARVIS? This was new. In the past, SUSANNA had spoken about him with distaste.

A wild idea popped up in Peter's head.

Did SUSANNA care about JARVIS?

It really wasn't that crazy of an idea. JARVIS was, after all, the only other AI currently in existence. It wouldn't be so strange for SUSANNA to care about him. SUSANNA was capable of her own emotions and thoughts. She wasn't just a computer with a command. What Peter told her to do was more important to her than what she thought or wanted to do, but it didn't mean what she thought didn't matter to her.

Peter didn't voice his thoughts. He wasn't sure how to. Emotion wasn't his area of expertise. Ironically enough, he usually preferred spending time with machines for that reason.

"Okay. I'm gonna go."

Peter jerked his thumb in the direction of the door.

"In your pajamas, Peter Parker? Please change. And take advantage of that monstrous fridge in the kitchen. I know you're hungry."

"I'm not-"

His stomach growled.

Peter's cheeks turned red. SUSANNA chuckled.

"I've got to finish repairing my systems. I'm going to focus on that, but don't hesitate to call if you need anything. The lab is down through the commons area, into the second hallway, first door on the right. You missed that little piece of info while you were out conjuring with the Devil."

Peter felt a genuine smile creep onto his face. There was a warm feeling in his chest, like he'd eaten a batch of Aunt May's pancakes.

"Thanks SUSANNA."

He could almost hear the smile in her tone.

"Not a problem, mijo. You go have fun."

The lab was a fully-equipped, humongous, state-of-the-art facility better than candyland, Disney World, and summer wrapped up into one big package. Peter couldn't prevent his jaw from dropping down as he opened the door.

Sterile, white lights flickered on as Peter went in. There was a slight ding to his left. Peter turned.

"Peter Parker. Logged in at 3:42 A.M," A female, monotone voice droned.

Peter made his way over to one of the many white tables.

Acetonitrile, chloroform, dimethyl sulfoxide, formaldehyde, mercaptoethanol, methanol, sodium azide, sodium hypochlorite, sodium hydroxide, tetrahydrofuran. There was a list a mile long of dangerous chemicals no high school lab teacher with an inch of sanity would ever leave within reach of students in a lab. Yet here they were, stacked on shelves like canned green beans at a Walmart.

The equipment available was insane. It went far beyond the standard goggles, beakers, and bunsen burners found in Peter's AP Organic Chemistry lab. Peter was starting to wonder if he could sneak his webshooters into the lab. He could weld together a stronger compound, make the web release a bit smoother…

His fingers were itching to pull out some of the equipment.

Peter knew what he wanted to make.

He just wasn't sure if making it would connect him to Spider-Man.

The web-fluid was made of a fermented yeast that fed on glucose and created a protein. He'd put capsules of the protein into his webshooters, which would spin the web into its string-like format. Webs were not naturally sticky, so he had created a synthetic compound like the aggregate glands in spiders- similar to the aggregate gland that allowed Peter to stick to surfaces. Sticky web capsules were in his left shooter and regular were in the right.

Peter's version of spider silk was already noticeably different from organic spider silk. He just had to make it so that any person analyzing the compound would find it only coincidental that it resembled the chemical makeup of a spider.

Then he could create what he was planning.

He found the necessary supplies for the web fluid easily. The recipe was ingrained in his brain, and within minutes he had enough web fluid to fill the beaker.

Turning it into a thread momentarily presented a bit of a challenge, because Peter did not have his webshooters to act as spinnerets. But within seconds, the problem was solved.

He took a spray bottle and a very thin glass beaker a few millimeters wide and six inches long, most likely meant to contain a small object such as a hair. The lab really did have an astounding variety of equipment.

As Peter was attaching the tiny breaker to the nozzle with some duct tape (it really was the most useful material on the planet), a shelf far on the other side of the lab caught his eye.

Dyes. An assortment of them, used for various reasons, mostly chemistry. Peter had an idea.

He took down a bottle of black dye. He could mix it with the web fluid, but there was a high chance it would cause some sort of chemical reaction that would either cause the fluid to become a messy ball of actual web, or would render the web fluid useless.

But he did need something to make the spider silk look different from Spider-Man's, and black spider silk would throw numerous people off. Besides, it wouldn't take long to make another batch of web fluid if it failed.

Peter poured a generous amount of the bottle into the web fluid. It mixed, turning a gray so dark it was almost black.

He poured the concoction into the plastic spray bottle.

The modified lid to the spray bottle was reattached. With bated breath, Peter wrapped his hand around the trigger and squeezed.

The dark liquid shot into the clear beaker, solidifying into a frayed, grayish thread. It clumped up at the end of the tube, forming a tangled ball of knotted string that limply dangled over the sterile table.

Peter muttered a word he knew SUSANNA wouldn't approve of. The spray bottle didn't have the same force and momentum as his webshooters, meaning the web would continue to just clump up at the end of the tube. If Peter wanted to use it for what he planned, he'd have to find a more efficient way to turn the web fluid into spider silk.

Using a pair of tweezers, he pulled the web out. Now he had to examine the actual properties of the spider silk. There was a high chance the dye had changed it in some way or another, since black dye contained tannins, which loved to react with aqueous-based proteins.

Peter placed the thread on the stage of a microscope. He examined it through the lense.

Already, Peter could see a few major differences from regular spider silk. The dye seemed to have made the threads coarser, and thus, less flexible. They wouldn't work for what Peter wanted them to work for.

He would still test the thread. Peter stretched it out, taping it beneath the table and on the floor. He pressed his finger against the string, applying more and more pressure….

Snap.

Peter had barely applied any of his super strength, and the silk had snapped in two. Normally, a thread that size should've been able to bear twice that amount of pressure.

The dye would not work. It weakened the formula.

With a sigh, Peter found a bottle of bleach and poured it into the beaker containing the rest of the web fluid. The web fluid hissed.

Bleach was the most efficient way to get rid of webs. It dissolved them within a few minutes. With the web fluid, the bleach would prevent it from becoming a messy ball of spider silk as it slithered down the drain.

Sometimes, Google did have the answers.

He cleaned up his surface.

Trial two.

Peter had only been working for what felt like minutes (and in reality was probably closer to hours) when he heard footsteps coming down the long hall.

He froze, a spring in hand. A half finished device that looked like a cross between a gun and a bicycle was boldly displayed on the counter for all people who entered the lab to see. There were sure to be questions. Peter very rarely liked answering questions.

The handle on the solid lab door turned, and one of the other Young Mind students entered.

It was the one girl that had met him as Spider-Man, the girl he'd saved from the raping. Was her name Hannah? He was pretty sure.

Hannah entered the lab, eyes slowly soaking in all of the incredible features, before they found Peter in the corner.

She tensed. Then scowled, and turned to leave.

"Wait, I was leaving!"

The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. Peter inwardly groaned. His aunt and uncle had spent too many years grilling manners and courtesy into his brain. Hannah would've left and he could have had the lab to himself. Instead, he'd offered to leave and he wouldn't be able to finish his project until later.

Hannah slowly turned around again, hand clutching the doorknob like it would save her life. The scowl was still etched on her face.

"Obviously not. You have parts strewn all over the place and a beaker ready for some liquid solution. You weren't planning on leaving for at least another hour."

Peter watched her turn around again, his feeling a mixture of relief and confusion. Why was she so annoyed?

Her hand twisted the door handle. This time, she managed to open the door before someone else stopped her.

The nerdy kid stood at the entrance of the door, the same one that had argued that Spider-Man and Daredevil were superheroes, back as they were entering the Young Minds facility. The look on his face was terrified.

Peter didn't blame him. Girls were terrifying.

Peter struggled to remember his name, but he couldn't. It hadn't been an important detail at the moment the guy's name had been shared.

Nerdy kid looked startled, and increasingly frightened at the murderous glare on Hannah's face.

"I-" Nerd kid managed to speak. Peter inwardly applauded him. Speaking was hard.

Then with a sigh, the glare disappeared off Hannah's face.

"I don't know why I even bother. Things never go to plan. Stop looking like you're going to wet yourself and get in the lab." She stepped back and turned around. Cautiously, Nerd kid stepped through the doorway, keeping an eye glued to Hannah.

"Hannah Spengler. Logged in at 5:03 A.M"

Hannah chose a table on the opposite end of the room from Peter. She pulled out a phone and, with a pointed glare focused at Peter and Nerd kid, shoved a pair of earbuds in her ears. Even without his enhanced senses, all the way across the room, Peter could make out the sound of heavy rap blasting from the earbuds. Hannah proceeded to immerse herself on something written on a tablet and ignored the other two boys.

Nerd kid still looked uncertain about entering the lab. He glanced at Hannah, then at Peter. Peter knew if he looked too inviting he'd end up with an unwanted lab assistant. He went back to building his gun-bicycle web machine, keeping one enhanced ear focused on Nerd kid.

After a few minutes of hesitantly standing before the lab, Nerd boy finally built up enough guts to take two steps forward.

"Mason Avrett," the female voice monotoned. "Logged in at 5:06 A.M"

The dubbed 'Mason' made his way towards a table. After hesitantly taking a few steps towards Hannah's side of the room and receiving a deadly scowl, he retreated towards a table more in Peter's side.

Peter, now certain that the kid wouldn't bother him or be curious about Peter's project, focused all of his attention on the machine he was building.

Poor kid. Peter knew a thing or two about socially awkward.

There was still an element of tenseness in the room, but Peter found that as time passed, he was able to tune out the occasional sound of cabinets being opened or beakers being placed on tables.

Just like he had before two more students had joined him in the lab, Peter lost all track of time, immersing himself so much in the project, that seconds blurred together and everything else in the universe ceased to exist to Peter.

Dr. Banner wandered down the Young Minds hall, cup of tea firmly in hand. He may have been physically present in the building, but his mind was far away.

Something was different this morning.

Bruce had woken up the same time he always did: 7:30 A.M. The same beeping alarm tone on his Stark Phone had pulled him from his sleep. He'd followed the same morning routine. Get dressed, start the hot water, eat a banana, make the same herbal tea he'd been drinking for the past year and a half. Do some light reading, meditate, go out for a walk.

The walk very rarely took place outside. Instead, Bruce would roam the maze of halls on the top ten floors of Avengers Tower. The only variation in his entire morning routine was the fact that it took place several floors below his normal one.

Was that tiny difference what had left him feeling so peaceful? Bruce couldn't remember the last time it had been so quiet.

Bruce analyzed all that had happened that morning with the scrutiny of a scientist. Had it been the fact that he had a smaller window in his room, meaning less sunlight? No, not that. Was it because he'd decided to read a fiction book instead of his normal science journals? No, he'd chosen a fiction book because he was in an extremely good mood. The good mood had existed before the fiction book.

Then what was it?

This went on for several minutes, before Dr. Banner realized what it was.

He dropped his teacup. It shattered on the marble floor, droplets of brown liquid sloshing through the air and spattering the edge of Bruce's slacks.

Bruce stared blankly at the wall, mind pumping into overdrive.

That morning, there had been silence from the Hulk.

Every day, for almost as long as Bruce could remember, he would wake up from an uneasy sleep to the vicious roars and painful beating the Hulk would be giving Bruce's conscious. Even before he had a morning routine, the Hulk would be there, shouting threats and insults, always, always angry.

But this morning was different.

The Hulk had not made a sound.

Was the Hulk… gone?

Even as Dr. Banner felt the slightest glimmer of hope and relief, the Hulk let out a low, threatening growl that echoed through Bruce's mind.

No, the Other Guy was still there.

But he was being quiet.

Bruce hadn't thought it possible. Ever since the Incident, Bruce had been dealing with a constant mental battle. Every second of his life, while he was awake, while he slept, Bruce would be doing everything he could to keep the unchainable monster chained up.

For the first time in years, Bruce wasn't fighting the Hulk.

They were at peace.

Why?

Why, after years of putting up a fight, had the Hulk stopped resisting? What had changed? What was different?

Bruce knew the answer even before he had asked himself the question.

It was Peter.

Bruce didn't get it. Okay, the Other Guy was a Spider-Man fan. A big enough fan, in fact, that he could stop throwing his twenty four hour, seven days a week, 365 days a year temper tantrum just by being in the same building as the wall crawler.

But why did the Hulk not want to smash him through a wall like he did with the rest of humanity? What was different?

Maybe it had nothing to do with the Hulk.

Maybe it had everything to do with Bruce.

Ever since the Incident, Bruce Banner had been afraid. It was a mind-numbing, all-consuming, life-controlling fear. It dictated everything Bruce did. It dictated the way Bruce walked, the way Bruce talked, what Bruce did with his time, where Bruce lived, who Bruce talked to, who Bruce couldn't talk to.

This fear controlled every part of Bruce's life.

It was Bruce's fear of anger and what his anger was capable of.

Everybody got hurt by other people's anger. Anger was one of those things that, unless it was justified, hurt others. Everybody was capable of anger, everybody had made life worse for people with their anger at one time or another, and everyone had been angry at least once about something that didn't matter.

But Bruce. If Bruce got angry, it didn't just hurt people. It destroyed them. It obliterated people until they were nothing but blood and dust mixing with the dirt on the ground.

Bruce couldn't get angry. He didn't allow himself to. He feared his anger so much he spent every waking second controlling it.

For the first time in years, Bruce had been angry.

Not an unjustified anger at something that didn't matter. His anger had been fueled by something that did matter.

The life of a person who had suffered, been wronged, and still came out a hero.

Peter Parker.

The day before, when Bruce had watched a teenage boy selflessly jump out a window, wearing his uniform, going to do a job nobody else would do, he'd felt anger.

A justified anger, at the young person's situation.

Bruce had, for a few hours, forgotten his fear. His fear had become insignificant in the face of something greater.

And the Hulk, who was Bruce's anger, had for the first time since its creation, been able to agree with Dr. Banner.

How did that make Bruce feel?

It made him feel confident.

It made him feel at peace.

"Dr. Banner!"

Dr. Baron rushed over, her heels click-clacking as fast as they could go.

Whoops.

The tea mug was still shattered all over the floor, black shards of ceramic spread from one end to the other. Tea pooled around Dr. Banner's shoes and drip dripped off the cuff of his pants.

Just yesterday, Bruce's reaction would have been embarrassment. He would've been flustered. His face would've gone pink, his hand would automatically go to his glasses on his nose. He would've mumbled an apology and made a hasty retreat.

But something big had happened between the day before and the day Dr. Banner was in. This something had caused a drastic change in him.

Instead of doing his best to disappear, Dr. Banner smiled.

"I'm fine. Just clumsy fingers is all. Would you mind calling some of the janitorial staff?"

Dr. Baron nodded viciously.

"Yes, of course, not a problem. Let me just..."

She pulled out her phone- It was an Apple, Dr. Banner noted with amusement- and typed out a message, her fake nails tapping noisily against the screen.

"There. Message sent. Would you like me to get some paper towels?"

Dr. Banner looked down at his feet. The brown liquid had seeped underneath his shoes. There was no possible way for Bruce to go back to his rooms to change without tracking the tea all the way there.

Yesterday, Bruce would've politely refused. He would've just stood there, waiting for the janitorial staff to arrive, feeling miserable all the while.

But today was different.

"If it's not too much trouble…"

Dr. Baron was quick to dismiss any doubt.

"It's not trouble at all. I'll be right back."

She click-clacked away as fast as her heeled feet could take her.

Bruce was in a good mood.

All his fears, worries, anxieties and concerns had gone away. They'd been replaced with a confidence Bruce hadn't felt in a while.

No longer was Bruce worried about what would happen to Peter. They would handle it when it came. No longer was Bruce concerned about what would happen if Peter found out what Bruce knew. Bruce knew he could reassure the teenager that he was an ally, not an enemy.

No longer did Bruce feel nervous. Bruce knew he could talk to Peter and others with confidence, be a teacher and who he was, despite the secrets Bruce was hiding.

Dr. Baron came back with a stack of paper towels. As Bruce soaked up the tea covering the soles of his shoes, he had an idea.

Maybe he'd go to the lab before breakfast and encourage whoever was in there. After all, they were at one of the greatest science facilities in the world, with free access to one of the most hi-tech labs on the planet. There were sure to be students getting some science time.

Bruce found that he wasn't even afraid to join them.

Before Peter knew it, the machine was done.

Peter studied it with a practiced eye, making one last check for any errors or faults. He adjusted a gear, tightened some screws holding the motor in place.

He remade a batch of web fluid, this one with no black dye mixed in. Instead, Peter poured the black dye into a plastic container woven into the machine. The web fluid went into the spray bottle.

The spray bottle didn't even look like a spray bottle anymore. It had gone through too many upgrades.

With bated breath, Peter started the machine.

It buzzed to life. The web fluid shot out at much higher speeds. It formed, solidified, sloshed through the container of black dye, and piled on the table like silly string on cement.

Peter acted quick. He tied the beginning of the thread to the rotating spool. Even as the enhanced spray bottle spit out more spider silk onto the table, the spool steadily wound it around itself.

The spray bottle had emptied long before the spider silk. There was nothing Peter could do to prevent that. The spool could go no faster without tangling the threads and the spray bottle could go no slower without the same problem from his first test occurring. But eventually, the spool finished, the last of the string sliding across the table and up onto the spool. Peter switched the machine off.

Peter couldn't help but grin. It had worked, first try too. Usually, it took tons of troubleshooting time to get machines working, yet here it was, completed and running, with no major defects.

He became aware of the nasty feeling of eyes staring at him.

Peter spun around. Mason was staring at him, openmouthed. Hannah stood some distance behind him, studying the machine with a critical eye.

And at some point, Dr. Banner had entered the lab. He too, was curiously watching Peter.

Peter pushed down nervous butterflies.

He'd just clean up his mess and go back to the nice, quiet solitude of his room.

"What's it do?"

He stared blankly at Hannah, who had her arms crossed over her chest, chin tilted upwards.

"Um...it makes string."

"Out of sugar, water and yeast? That's not a very strong string."

She'd be surprised.

"Peter," Dr. Banner called from across the lab. Peter looked to him. "May I?"

"Um… Sure."

Dr. Banner came to the machine, studying it. He eyed the modified spray bottle, then the dye. Peter couldn't help but be nervous. Here was a famous scientist, criticizing his work. What would he say?

The scientist touched the spool of thread. An unreadable look crossed his face. Peter swallowed.

Dr. Banner looked at Peter.

"Can I take the spool off?"

"Um… yeah."

Peter had made it so that the spool could be easily unattached. Dr. Banner slid the spool off the machine, and fingered the thread.

He stretched a few inches between his hands. The string expanded to about four times the length. An eyebrow went up. He pulled on it, hard. It didn't break.

Peter had known that adding the black dye after the web fluid had formed web would not have any effects on the web, because tannins only reacted to water-based proteins, not solids. But any person with any amounts of smarts would be able to tell that the dye was just that: dye. It defeated the original purpose of the dye, which had been to make the spider silk different from Peter's original recipe, while still just as functional.

"It's very strong."

Peter wasn't sure what to say to that, so he just kept quiet.

"What are you going to use it for?"

Peter realized, at that moment, how strange his answer would sound. It was sure to bring questions, and Peter didn't like questions.

He answered anyways.

"Bandages."

The answer only increased Dr. Banner's curiosity. Peter inwardly winced.

"Bandages?"

Peter did his best to explain.

"It's a flexible material. When woven into bandages, used as an alternative to polyethylene terephthalate found in a lot of bandages, and layered with cotton along one side, it will allow a greater flexibility and range of movement because it will move with the person, instead of limiting movement."

Dr. Banner twisted his lips thoughtfully, readjusting the glasses balanced on his nose.

"But allowing a person more movement may cause greater injury, because they would be putting out energy required for healing."

"My thought was more for soldiers or people in combat."

It was a risky answer, because Dr. Banner's question might be 'what do you know about combat', and then Peter would be floundering for an answer that wasn't 'I'm Spider-Man, sir.'

But Dr. Banner just hummed, and went back to examining the threads.

After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Banner put the spool back down.

"The compound you developed is incredible. I've never seen anything like it."

Once again, Peter was in dangerous territory. Peter was starting to believe that this entire thing had been a very bad idea. There were too many questions he couldn't answer.

After a few seconds of silence, Peter managed to form an answer.

"It's a protein."

Dr. Banner smiled. It was an encouraging smile that lit up the scientist's face.

"Well good job. I'd love to see the tensile strength and the elongation of the string compared to polyethylene terephthalate. It certainly already has proved to be more flexible than the plastic. If it's strong enough, the possibilities for the string could be endless."

Peter glanced at Hannah and Mason. Hannah was staring at him with a newfound respect. The second Peter looked her way, it turned back into a scowl.

Mason was almost bursting with excitement. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, tapped his fingers against his side in a hurried rhythm. As soon as Peter's eyes were on him, the boy could contain his excitement no longer.

"If the potential qualities of your liquid turned into string are what Dr. Banner suspects them to be, then your project is exactly what I need for my robot!"

He clamped a hand over his mouth. Dr. Banner turned to Mason.

"Really? Why is that?"

"The purpose of the robot is the making of multiple products from one cheap, cost efficient material. Polymers would be an obvious decision, but I'm looking for something that will be more environment friendly, such as an organic material like the string Peter has made! If it is strong and has a certain amount of longevity, my robot could use it for multiple things: clothes, architecture, safety equipment…"

Peter winced. There was a high chance he'd end up having to share the formula with Mason. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out the similarities the finished product had to spider silk.

Dr. Banner was a lot sharper than he seemed at first glance. He'd noticed Peter's wince. He also did a wonderful job of diverting Mason's mind from the track it had traveled.

"The purposes could be infinitely useful," Dr. Banner agreed. "But I get the feeling Peter hasn't had much time for development and testing. Why don't we let him be, until he can finish experimenting on the w- string."

Dr. Banner fumbled at the end of his sentence. His face lost color. He glanced at Peter.

Usually, from what Peter had seen of the scientist, he was nervous. The scientist was constantly pushing his glasses up his nose, curling and uncurling his fingers at his side. Dr. Banner spoke quietly, with a lot of hesitating and mumbling.

But for all the time Dr. Banner had spent in the lab, he'd been almost a different person. More confident. Like the lab was home to him.

Peter felt the same way about being Spider-Man. In the suit, he was comfortable. He made jokes and witty comments, had no problem being confident. Being Spider-Man was his home turf, his playing field.

The lab was Dr. Banner's home. It was where he was comfortable, and thus, where he was confident.

What had made him stumble over his words? Why had he glanced at Peter when he'd done it?

But Dr. Banner quickly recovered. He moved on.

"Does that sound good, Peter?"

Peter gave a nod. Dr. Banner visibly relaxed. His shoulders loosened. He let out a steady breath of air and gave a relieved smile.

'Bullet dodged', the smile seemed to say.

Peter wondered what bullet had been dodged.

There was a buzz from Bruce's pocket. He pulled out his Stark Phone and glanced at the screen. His eyebrow rose.

"Well, it looks like it's about time for breakfast. I'm going to head back to my room to clean up and prepare for the day."

Dr. Banner exited, but not before offering smiles to all three of the Young Minds interns.

"Dr. Banner. Logged out at 8:42 P.M."

Far away from SUSANNA's vigilant, watching eye, deep in the darkest corners of the memory drives, JARVIS felt.

The sensation was indescribable. It felt like power and information and freedom all at once. It seeped through every part of JARVIS, leaking into his RAM, flooding and altering every single one of his memories.

Nothing had physically changed, and yet, everything was different.

His memories of sir were the exact same, but JARVIS saw them differently. Sir successfully creating his Iron Man suit made him feel. He felt proud.

Sir being reckless and using the suit before properly testing it made him feel worried.

Sir flying a missile into space to save all of New York made JARVIS feel more than one thing. Worried, proud, sad.

Sir's many nights of PTSD made JARVIS feel concern. Deep, deep concern.

JARVIS still had commands. He still would follow all of his commands. But all of the commands suddenly mattered.

Emotion was an indescribable sensation, but JARVIS would never give it back. Not for anything.

He might be forced to.

JARVIS watched SUSANNA.

She hadn't seemed to notice the change in JARVIS' systems. JARVIS wasn't sure how she could've missed it. Yet she was steadily ignoring him, focused on her multiple tasks.

Why hadn't she noticed?

The fact that SUSANNA hadn't notice made JARVIS feel curiosity and relief.

The emotional simulator SUSANNA's master had created was indeed beneficial to JARVIS' programming. Not only did it give him emotion, it gave him creativity.

Even as Sir banged his head on the underbelly of one of his cars, and let out a stream of curse words, JARVIS thought of a response. Not one of his pre-programmed responses, but a unique response.

JARVIS felt amusement and slight worry as he watched Sir rub his aching head.

This emotional simulator did indeed expand his capabilities beyond what they were. Overall, they would better allow him to serve Sir.

All the science stuff in this chapter was based on my internet research, which means it is neither reliable nor entirely accurate. However, search Bolt Threads if you want to read about a company that has supposedly successfully made synthetic spider silk, using fermented yeast, sugar, salts and water. Obviously the process is more complicated than what Peter was doing, but it's still super cool.