3

Peter set his tray down with a crash. "Thanos," he said.

Ned looked up, startled, and met his friend's eyes. "What?"

Peter sat down at the table opposite Ned. "Nick Fury. Last night. I think it was a warning."

"Nick Fury was trying to warn you about Thanos?" Ned said doubtfully.

"Well, yeah. Think about it. It's something related to Mister Stark, right, and it's something related to me." Peter took a mouthful of chicken nugget. "He mentioned that Mister Stark had enemies, and Thanos is – well, you know, a pretty well-known one, right?"

"Yeah, but. . . he's. . . dead."

"Maybe that's what the world was supposed to think," Peter said, leaning closer. "Maybe this time it's like a clone of Thanos or something –"

"Thanos?"

A new voice broke into their conversation. Both Ned and Peter looked up to see MJ holding her tray, standing at the end of the table. "What about Thanos?" she asked.

Peter swallowed his chicken nugget quickly. "Nothing," he said. "Just talking about the Blip."

"Popular topic." MJ paused. "Anyone –" she gestured with a finger at their table, "–sitting here, or. . . ?"

The table was completely empty.

"Mm-hm!" Peter said quickly. "I mean, uh, no. No. You're welcome to, um –" He scooted over to one side, even though the long bench seat was completely empty on both sides of him.

Too late he realized that MJ was on Ned's side anyway, and she wasn't coming around to his side of the table. Clearing his throat, he slid back into his original place.

MJ either didn't notice or pretended not to as she slung one leg over the bench and sat down.

Ned obligingly scooted over a little. "Isn't it Friday?" he asked, sounding puzzled.

MJ gave him a strange look. "Yeah?"

"Nonfiction Friday?" Ned prompted. "Usually you clear your lunch hour of any and all human interaction to read. You're halfway through that book about that lady whose uncle had schizophrenia?"

Peter nodded. "Page 145," he supplied.

MJ had been short a bookmark last week.

"Okay, that's –" MJ gave Peter a bizarre look, "weirdly impressive. Kinda creepy." She took a breath. "But, no, not today. I actually wanted to talk to you nerds about Mr. Willett's class." She raised her eyebrows. "Have we decided on what our group project is going to be?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah. Cloaking."

MJ grinned. "Hell yeah. Black Hat doorway page techniques are finally getting exposed to the people."

Peter frowned. "Doorway – what –? Oh." It clicked in his mind. "No, not the hacking method. More like physical cloaking."

"Like what the Helicarriers can do," Ned put in with a smile.

MJ sighed. "The tragic ignorance of unethical web browsing," she muttered. "Okay. Physical cloaking it is."

"Besides, I don't know how we'd make a presentation on web browsing," Ned said.

MJ raised an eyebrow but didn't reply to that. "We still need a presentation too."

"I've already got it," Peter said. "I've seen some really cool stuff through the – uh, you know, through the, Stark internship."

MJ tilted her head to one side and gave Peter one of her piercing, questioning stares through narrowed eyes. "I thought you quit the internship."

"Um. I did, but then –" Peter froze. "I. . . didn't."

MJ stared at him for a few seconds too long.

"I got it back?" Peter finished lamely.

MJ shrugged her narrow shoulders. "Okay. Just as long as you can bring something."

Peter pursed his mouth thoughtfully. "Yeah, I think I could probably bring in a simple prototype."

"Cool. So." MJ braced her elbows on the table. "We still meeting tomorrow to go over the project?"

"Tomorrow. Yeah." Peter nodded unnecessarily.

"I can't believe you're making us come to school on a Saturday," Ned moaned.

MJ looked at him. "Do you have somewhere more exciting to be?" she asked.

Ned opened his mouth like he was about to argue, then closed it and shrugged one shoulder. "No."

MJ grinned. "Nerd."

Ned couldn't help but laugh at himself, and across the table, Peter laughed too, shaking his head.

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This place was way fancier than Peter had thought.

Suddenly, he was glad that May had insisted on getting his suit dry-cleaned yesterday.

Tony's tribute was taking place in a historic building in the city. Peter wasn't exactly sure what it was or used to be, but it was big. Really big. Once they stepped through the doors, the space seemed to open up around them.

It had the feel of an old theater – all the walls were draped in heavy scarlet fabric and at the far end of the room, past dozens of round tables, was a stage. Two enormous screens hung from the ceiling on either side of it.

"Ritzy joint," May murmured to Peter under her breath. "What are we doing here again?"

The room swelled with noise. There had to be hundreds of people here. Pepper stood at the entrance, welcoming all the guests inside. A silky blue dress draped across her shoulders, leaving a large swath of her back exposed. Her hair was down and had been pressed into bouncy waves around her shoulders.

"Mrs. Potts." May was the first to reach forward to shake Pepper's hand. "I am so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." Pepper smiled gracefully rather than politely, somehow sidestepping the awkward look that usually came with events like this. "Thank you very much for coming tonight." Her gaze shifted over to Peter. "Peter, hi."

He accepted her hand and shook it. "Thank you. For inviting us." He gave her a quick, closed-lip smile and pulled his hand back.

"It was my pleasure." Pepper smiled at him.

May touched Peter's shoulder. "I'm going to go find our table," she murmured to him, and left him alone with Pepper.

Peter cleared his throat. "I don't think I've seen you since –" He stopped. He was about to say 'the battle in New York', but he suddenly realized that that could bring up a somewhat touchy subject.

"It's been a while," Pepper said instead.

Peter's response was cut short as he suddenly sensed someone rapidly approaching them. His head jerked to one side, almost automatically.

Through the crowds, he saw the little figure of Morgan Stark, tearing straight for them. He recognized her from the funeral. "Incoming," he warned Pepper.

"Hey, hey, hey." Pepper caught Morgan just before she ran into her. "Where are you going in such a rush, little lady?"

Morgan giggled, ending in a snort. "Uncle Happy's chasing me," she said.

Pepper hid her smile well, keeping her "grim law enforcer" face on. "Is he supposed to be chasing you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Grinning, Morgan nodded.

"You remember what we said about running?"

"Umm. . . ." Morgan twisted the hem of her skirt in her hands. "I don't know."

"Mm-hm." Pepper sounded amused, if unconvinced, as she reached forward and smoothed out the fabric of Morgan's dress. "You want to give your uncle some time to catch up to you?"

Morgan twisted away, giggling. "No."

"No?"

Peter watched the exchange from a distance to be polite, a half-smile on his face.

"Well, I think you're too late anyway. Here he comes."

Happy ran up to them, doing his best to mask his heavy breathing. "Pepper. Hey. I was. Looking for her." He pointed to Morgan and raised his eyebrows at her. "You know, you move a lot faster than it seems from a distance."

Morgan grinned back at him.

Happy noticed Peter and smiled at him, reaching forward to shake hands. "Peter, glad you could make it."

"Yeah." Peter shook Happy's hand.

Happy's voice softened. "You know, Tony would be really glad you're here."

Peter nodded but didn't say anything else, his hands deep in his pockets, his nose bright pink.

Happy took Morgan as Pepper moved away to greet other guests coming through the doors. "Want to meet someone who your dad used to work with?" Happy asked her. He hoisted her up onto his hip. "This is Peter Parker."

Morgan leaned her head against Happy's shoulder and viewed Peter from her near-vertical perspective. "Hi."

"Hey," Peter said back. "Morgan, right?"

She nodded her head against Happy's shoulder.

"You wanna shake hands?" Happy asked her. He stepped forward a pace so Morgan could reach Peter more easily.

She held out a hand, and Peter politely took it.

They shook.

Peter smiled to himself. She was a little piece of Tony. It was so weird. She had Tony's eyes, for sure.

Happy's eyes shifted to something behind Peter. "Mrs. Parker," he said, his voice changing. Peter turned to see May walking up to them again.

"Happy, hi," May said with a smile.

"It's, uh, good to –" Happy nodded once. "See you."

May hooked one hand through Peter's arm. "Mind if I take my nephew back?"

"Yep, good, uh –" Happy spun a watch on his wrist and checked the face. "Presentation should be starting in just a few minutes."

"Okay. Perfect." May gave him a quick smile as she started leading Peter toward their table. She didn't see Happy smile back at her a few seconds too late.

The lights dimmed, hushing the crowd. The two screens on either sides of the stage slowly lit up, and a video began playing as they made their way to their seats.

"Tony Stark," the overhead narration began. "Husband. Father. Mentor. And a hero to all. . . ."

Both hands on Peter's shoulders, May leaned close to his ear. "Still good?" she murmured to him.

"Yeah." Peter swallowed. "Still good."

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Until he wasn't.

As the video continued, Peter found himself frowning down at the neatly folded cloth napkin set on his plate, subconsciously avoiding watching the screens. The narration was continuing overhead, talking about details of Tony's life, but Peter was mostly tuning it out.

Then, suddenly, Tony's voice was flooding over the sound system. "Rewiring test subject number thirty-six, since given that all other thirty-five seem to have an affinity for self-destruction. Can't say I don't blame them."

Peter looked up. The screens were showing what appeared to be a home video of Tony working in the workshop. The man was bent over a desk, tweezers and magnifying glass in hand, fiddling with a square-shaped hub in front of him. A time stamp in the corner showed that it was 2:35 in the morning.

Onscreen Tony glanced up, making eye contact with the camera. He had bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, but his eyes themselves were bright, wide-awake. "Dum-E? The hub. Zoom tighter on this, come on." Obediently, the camera pulled closer, magnifying the object between Tony's hands.

All at once, Peter realized that he recognized what it was. No one else but him would have recognized it.

The inner core of one of his webshooters. Tony was working on Peter's suit.

With that, the emotion hit Peter, all at once. The narration picked up where it had left off, speaking calmly overhead, but he couldn't hear it anymore. He needed a break.

Peter pushed his chair back from the table. May looked over at him, concern mixing with puzzlement in her eyes.

"I'm just gonna – um –" His throat closed up. Soundlessly he gestured to the back of the room. He didn't even really know what he wanted.

May understood anyway, and she nodded. "Go ahead," she whispered.

Peter made his way to the back of the room, his back illuminated by the screen behind him, the sounds of the video following him out.

He paused at the refreshment table. Bracing himself up against the black-fabric-covered table, he closed his eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. It felt cooler back here – less crowded, at least.

Something moved out of the corner of his eye. Peter's head turned to the right, his gaze drawn to the refreshment table. The heavy black fabric was moving.

A familiar, prickly feeling bristled at the back of Peter's neck, and he tensed. He tapped the insides of both his palms, and the slim nanotech bands around both his wrists sprung to life. With the trigger pieces poised in both palms, he took a step closer.

The fabric parted sharply. "Raaugh!"

"Gah!" Peter skidded backwards.

A delighted giggle pealed out from underneath the table, and the fabric fell back into its place.

Regaining his composure, Peter crept forward. It hadn't been an assassin as he was expecting – instead, it was a little pale face. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

The black fabric parted again, and Morgan's face peered out. "Hiding."

"Why?"

Morgan's little voice was hushed. "I wanted to scare Uncle Happy."

Peter smiled, just a little. She was so like Tony it was unreal. "Does he know you're here?" he asked.

Morgan shook her head, making her hair swing around her face. "That's why it's a surprise," she said back.

"Oh. Right." He cast a glance over his shoulder, at the seated crowd. "Hey, uh – I think you should get back to your mom."

Morgan frowned down at her dress. "It's boring," she said.

"Boring?" Peter parroted, glancing over his shoulder again. Happy wasn't in his seat, so he was probably up looking for her, but he couldn't see the man anywhere.

"Mm-hm." Morgan nodded.

Peter knelt down to the floor with her. "You don't want to watch the movie?" he asked. "It's all about your dad."

"I know." Morgan pushed her hair out of her face and frowned down at her lap. "It's boring. I want to play with him instead."

Peter swallowed, then swallowed again. What are you supposed to say to that? "Yeah, I bet he'd rather play with you, too," he said finally. He held out his hand. "Come on, we've gotta get you back to your mom."

Morgan took a deep breath and let it out all at once, seeming to give up on her plan. "Okay."

She clambered out from under the table. Peter took her hand in his, relieved she had agreed. He started leading her back to Pepper's table.

". . . with a desire to constantly improve and refine his work, Stark was a pioneer in the field of homeland security." A pause. "Too bad he couldn't even keep himself safe. "

Peter looked up at the screens, frowning. What?

"Stark was all those things," the voice said. "But you know what else he was? Manipulative. Arrogant. Fallible."

The screen was still displaying images and some muted video of Tony, but the narration had gone severely off-kilter.

Heads were beginning to turn, looking at each other, back to the screen. Unease bubbled up from the crowd. It had become all too apparent that something was wrong. Peter spotted Pepper in the crowd, and she was getting to her feet.

"You've got some nice candid shots in here," the voice said, and now it sounded like it was speaking directly to Pepper. "Real nice. But it's always important to remember where our good Tony Stark came from. After all –"

The screen flashed to a different image.

"– not all our heroes are invincible."

The crowd erupted into shocked gasps.

Peter was a little shell-shocked himself. The video onscreen was still of Tony, but this time in a much different setting. He was slumped in a chair, his hands tied behind his back, his eyes wide with terror. Gauze wrapped around his bloody chest. Men with guns stood around him, holding their weapons threateningly across their chests. The image was grainy, as if it had been shot with a cheap digital video camera.

This was a hostage video, Peter realized. From the Ten Rings.

"Daddy?"

Morgan sounded scared.

Peter's head jerked down to look down at her, his eyes wide. Her gaze was locked on the screen. He quickly scooped her up in his arms and turning her head away from the image. "Hey, don't look at that," he whispered. "Don't look at it."

Morgan twisted out of his grasp to look at the screen again. "What happened to Daddy?" she asked again, her voice rising in a scared wail.

Her heartbroken tone struck Peter in the gut, and he looked around desperately for Pepper or Happy. He had no idea what he was supposed to say.

"Do I have your attention now?" the voice overhead was saying.

Peter spotted the bright blue flash of Pepper's dress in the crowd. Relieved, he pushed forward that way, desperately trying to block Morgan's view of the screen.

"Mrs. Potts! Mrs Potts! I've got her!" Peter shouted over to her.

Pepper spun around, panic plastered on her face. Her entire body relaxed as she caught sight of Morgan clinging to Peter's shoulders.

"Oh my God," Pepper breathed, reaching out for Morgan. She pressed her nose to Morgan's, closing her eyes. "You okay?"

Happy appeared behind Pepper, and he was visibly relieved to see Morgan in her arms. He circled them both protectively. "Pepper, we've got to get you out of here. I don't know what the hell's going on, but you're in danger here."

Peter broke his gaze from the screen. "Mrs. Potts, somebody hijacked the projectionist booth," he said, speaking as rapidly as he could. "I need to get to it. They could still be here."

"Right, uh – God." Pepper covered her eyes for a moment. "That hallway. It'll be the second door on your left. There'll be stairs, and then, um –" She paused to gulp in air.

Peter interrupted. "Okay. Okay. I'll find it. Thank you."

"You'll need this." Happy unclipped his badge from his lapel and tossed it to Peter.

He caught it, spun it around in his hands. All-Access Pass. Perfect.

"Kick his ass," Happy said to him, raising his eyebrows with emphasis. He pulled Pepper close with one arm, shielding her with the bulk of his body, and started leading the two of them toward a back exit.

Peter scanned the room quickly for May, and spotted her in the crowd.

"May!" Peter called to her. "I need the – thing!"

Fortunately, May knew what he was talking about. Without missing a beat, she tossed him her clutch.

Peter caught it nimbly and started, against the flow of the crowd, towards the hallway Pepper had pointed out. He already had his webshooters on – thanks to the slim nanotech design that made them almost inconspicuous, he almost always had them on now.

He was almost at the hallway when all the lights in the building shut off.

The room was plunged into blackness. Even the two giant screens turned black for a moment. This time the ripple effect through the crowds was louder, more panicked. Peter skidded to a stop himself, startled at the blackout.

"Do I have your attention now?" the disembodied narration asked again. It was low and dry, speaking calmly. Obviously prerecorded.

Small white words appeared on both screens, echoing the voice's words. Do I have your attention now?

The room quieted, all eyes turned to the screens. It was like a hypnotic effect.

"Listen, people, and listen well. This is going to be your first and only warning. I'd advise you not to tune it out."

Peter shook his head roughly and kept going for the hallway. He had to move.

As he ran, he popped open May's clutch, and the Spider-Man mask stared back up at him. It was a little security measure they had devised, especially for events like this. Peter getting caught with the mask on him, even in a jacket pocket, would be too easy to put two and two together. May, on the other hand, could carry the mask and just play it off as being a slightly-eccentric fan if anyone asked about it.

Slipping his tie off, Peter pulled the Spider-Man mask on as he mounted the stairwell.

Projectionist booth, projectionist booth. . . there!

The door was marked Booth 1 in crisp gold lettering, and it had been left ajar. Peter glanced at the All-Access Pass in his hand and tossed it aside. Thanks anyway, Happy.

Peter pushed inside. The door swung soundlessly open, extra-heavy for security reasons.

The projection booth was quiet. Multicolored lights blinked in the dark, some repetitive, some seemingly random – hundreds of equipment checks running at the same time.

There were two men sprawled out, unconscious, in front of upturned desk chairs.

"Uh-oh," Peter said, his eyes wide. "Karen?"

Karen quickly ran diagnostics, and heartbeats popped up in his view beside both men. "They're both alive, Peter."

"Okay. Good." Peter's attention darted over to the projector. It was way bigger than he was expecting – nearly a seven-foot tall black machine with what kind of looked like an old-fashioned video camera mounted in the middle. It was angled down through a little window, light streaming from its tip.

"Uuummm," Peter said, staring at the huge camera. He had been hoping for something simple, something digital, but this was obviously a historic building with matching technology. Okay.

There were a lot of thick rubbery cords connected to the camera leading up to the floor. Peter grabbed them and unplugged them, and the light coming from the tip of the camera cut out abruptly.

His exhilaration was short-lived. The other screen was still projecting, and he realized the sound was still coming through the entire amphitheater.

"The world has been filled with noise. Tonight, all of that noise stops. And it stops with you."

Crap! Of course there were two screens, so there'd have to be two projectors. Booth 1, the door had said. Was there a second one?

He skidded out into the hallway again. Sure enough, a door marked Booth 2 was further down the hall.

"– which is why you have until twelve A.M. tonight –"

Peter grabbed the handle. It rattled slightly in its socket but didn't budge.

Locked.

Peter's head jerked up. The pass. He needed the pass that Happy had given him. He spotted the laminated card that he had tossed aside, and sprinted for it.

"This is a message to your heroes."

Peter paused, listening.

"At least," the voice said, "the ones that are left. Falcon. The Winter Soldier. Black Panther. Doctor Strange. Scarlet Witch. Hawkeye. Spider-Man."

At the sound of his name, Peter looked up. Through the little glass window in Booth 1, he could just see the video being projected on the other screen.

All-Access Pass hanging loosely in his hand, he stepped forward, his eyes locked on the screen.

It was another photo of Tony, but this one had been edited. Jagged graphics of x's had been drawn over the image, right over Tony's throat. Peter clenched his jaw slowly, staring straight ahead at the image.

"The world's down one hero," the voice said. "It's time for the rest to step up."

The screen cut to black.

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A/N: Good afternoon, folks! I SO did not mean to keep you all waiting so long for this chapter, and I'm really sorry for that. Thanks for your patience with me! I'm afraid your humble author has been busily bumbling around getting ready for the school season that has been approaching like an oncoming train. This story has been such a relaxing escape though.

And heaps of thanks to DaniPotterLovesGod, Elizabeth357, carajiggirl, and Shadow-wolf78 for your reviews! They mean so much to me. And to my silent majority in the back, I love you guys too!