A/N: Hey everyone. Yep, it took a long time again, but I'm still super busy. I made up for it with another long one, this one which progresses the story as well. I'm going to admit, this one took longer than expected, since I couldn't get myself to finish it for a while.
See, as some of you may know, I'm from America, and as a lot of you know, we recently had an election. I'm not looking for a political debate in the reviews, so please, don't. Let's just say that Trump being elected isn't something I expected, and it certainly wasn't something I wanted. I was very depressed, and very worried for various friends of mine. For all of my American readers who aren't happy with this, I understand, and it's ok for you not to be happy. It's ok to be angry and frustrated. I am. Just please, stay peaceful about this. If you are one of the people who feel like protest is needed, than by all means, go ahead. But peace is important. Nothing has ever improved by riots, nothing has ever truly changed from destruction. The strongest message is one from a calm and rational person. So please, enjoy the chapter, get your mind off things, and thank you for your patience.
"Dad, will you just take the medicine?"
"I don't need it."
It was another day at the Stacy household, as Gwen was rubbing her face in frustration, a pill bottle in her hand. She looked in exasperation at her father, the grizzled police chief George Stacy, as he was balancing himself on his cane.
"Seriously?" Gwen asked. "Do we have to do this everyday? The doctor said two a day," she stated, as she placed the pill bottle on the table in the kitchen.
"But I don't feel any pain right now," George defended.
"Because you've been taking the medicine!" Gwen exclaimed, at her wits end. She had been arguing with her father about this for about an hour now. Ever since he was attacked by the fake Spider-Man, AKA Mysterio, AKA her principal, Captain Stacy needed to use his cane and take his prescribed medication everyday. The cane, he didn't mind so much. Said he could use it to teach perps and some new guys in the precinct some manners. The pills, on the other hand...
"Honey, I appreciate it-"
"Dad-"
"But I really don't think-
"DAD-"
"That I need them."
"DAD!" Gwen yelled, getting fed up with her stubborn father. She opened her mouth to continue, before a knock on the door interrupted them. They looked at each other real quick, before Gwen walked out of the kitchen. She went over to the front door, and opened it. The frustrated look on her face quickly morphed into a look of shock when she saw who was on the other side.
"Gwen?" Her father called, limping over to the room. "Who is it?"
"Uh..." Gwen simply muttered, not believing the sight before her.
Tony Stark stood before her, his hat and glasses in his hand, as he fixed his hair with the other. "Gwen Stacy?" He asked.
"Gwen?" George called again, getting in the living room. His mouth came agape when he saw the sight of the billionaire. "Tony Stark?"
"In the flesh," he replied. "And a kind of ratty hoodie. Mind if I come in?"
Gwen quickly went to the side, gesturing for the former hero to come in. Tony nodded at her, and met George with a small smirk, and a handshake. "Captain George Stacy? Pleasure to meet you. Thanks for keeping the streets safe."
"Likewise," Stacy said, shaking the hand. Tony then started to take a look around the place, hands in his pockets.
"Nice place," he stated, as he looked at a little antique clock in the corner. "A little smaller than I expected."
George frowned slightly. "Yeah, well, we don't need too much," he said, leaning on his cane.
"Obviously," Tony stated, not really thinking. "I thought I read that you had a wife, Captain?"
"Yes, I do," he said. "She's out on business. Should be back next week."
Gwen walked next to his father, silently mouthing crazed obscenities, not sure what the heck was going on. Her father simply shrugged, also confused beyond belief. Tony then turned towards them, making them freeze and act like everything was normal.
"So, Miss Stacy, I've actually heard a lot about you," Tony stated.
Gwen's eyes widened. "Y-you have?"
"Yep."
"Uh...is it good stuff?"
Tony smirked. "Yes, it's good stuff. Smart girl, good grades, interested in science stuff. Exactly what I look for in scholarship recipients."
The two Staceys both looked taken aback. "Scholarship? I didn't apply-"
"I know," Tony cut off, as he started to walk nonchalantly to the kitchen, followed by the two. "I don't just let people apply to my things. You know how many people are out there that aren't worth it?" He looked at the counter, to see a pack of cookies. "You don't mind, do you?" He asked, as he opened the pack of cookies.
"No, not at all," George said, too interested in the proposal to care.
"So, I looked into your file, and we're real interested in helping you get into any college you want," he said, as he bit into the cookie. After a second of it in his mouth, he walked over to a garbage can, and spat it out. "That wasn't chocolate chip, it was oatmeal raisin. I have never been more disappointed."
"Mister Stark?" Gwen interrupted. "No offense, but how did you even hear about me?"
"Well, I believe your boyfriend is my intern."
"Peter told you about me?" Gwen asked.
Tony froze for a second, the name not exactly giving him good memories at the moment. "Is that his name?" He asked, playing coy. "I don't really talk to the kid. What happened was that we had a dropbox for scholarship suggestions. He must've put yours in, we looked into it, and we were impressed.
"So...what now?" She asked.
"I'd like a word with you alone, just to hash out some details," Tony stated, before looking at Captain Stacy. "Is that ok with you, sir?"
George frowned slightly. He had heard the stories of the playboy, and he didn't like the idea of him alone with his daughter. "Only if Gwen wants to."
"Yes!" Gwen exclaimed excitedly. "Sure! Of course!"
George cringed a little from his daughter's enthusiastic response. He's hoping that Stark wasn't one of her crushes. Wasn't she really into a boy band for a while? "Gwen, if you need anything..."
Gwen gave her dad a loving smile. "Don't worry, Dad," she said, pecking him on the cheek. "I'll be ok." She then walked over to the billionaire, and pointed in a direction. "My room's this way."
Tony looked over, and also pointed towards her room, before walking over to it. Gwen followed behind him.
"And Dad, take your damn pills!" She called, once she was out of sight.
"I'll do what I want, young lady!" George called back, laughing slightly, as he limped over towards a chair, and eased himself on it, groaning slightly. He sighed, as he closed his eyes to relax. "Tony Stark is in my house...they told me that being a dad could be weird. But did I listen? Noooo...
"You know Captain America!?"
"I know Captain America."
Peter was walking along the halls of the Milano, Quill right beside him. The two turned out to have a lot in common other than there names, as they were also kind of obsessed with nerd culture. At least, whatever existed in the 80's.
"Dude," Quill said. "Cap disappeared in World War 2. Everyone knows that. It's history 101."
"Turns out he was just frozen in some ice," Peter explained. "They thawed him out. He's awesome."
Quill squinted his eyes at Peter. "You're a liar."
Peter ran a finger across his own chest. "Cross my heart."
Quill smirked slightly, as the two neared a door. Before they went through it however, Quill grabbed Peter's shoulder, making him freeze. "Hey, uh, before we meet the others, I just want to kind of...uh...give you a heads up."
"That's always a good sign before meeting new people," Peter joked.
"They're a little weird, but...they're good people, and they'll help you get home." Quill said. After a moment of consideration, he pursed his lips. "Well, they're not really people, but they're go-" he cut himself off, thinking about it a bit more. "Ok, they're my friends. So just be cool and everything will go ok. Ok?"
Peter shrugged. "Ok."
"Ok!" Star-Lord smiled, as the door slide open in front of them.
Peter laid eyes on what must of been the main meeting place on the ship, as he laid eyes on two green people, one woman who was sitting down and disinterested, and a brute of a man, with what looked like red tattoos all over him, who turned around at the sound of the door. Peter could hear "Hooked on a Feeling" by Blue Swede playing in the background.
"Everyone," Quill started, "I'd like you to meet-"
"You!" The green man practically snarled, as he stomped over to Peter, looming over him. "The lying youngling from Terra!"
Peter's small smile disappeared at the sight of him, as Quill frowned. "Now Drax, calm down."
"I try to help, and this pup attacks and lies to me!" Drax fumed. "He is lucky I don't slay him where he stands!"
Peter furrowed his brow, his maskless face contorted in a confused expression. "Uh, I'm sorry, but how was I lying?"
"You stated that you were a queen," Drax reminded, still not amused. "You are obviously male. Males cannot be queens."
Peter thought for a second, before recalling the encounter with Drax. "Oh, that Queen of England thing?" Peter inquired, earning a nod from Drax, who seemed surprised that the Earthling couldn't recall fibbing towards the Destroyer. "That was just a figure of speech."
Drax narrowed his eyes. "Speech is not an object," Drax informed the hero. "It does not have a figure."
Peter went quiet for a second, not quite sure how to react. "Uh...thanks for telling me. I didn't know," he deadpanned.
Drax cocked his head slightly, intrigued by the newcomer. "You are welcome. Do not attack me again," Drax warned, an emotionless look on his face.
"No problem!" Peter nervously said, as Drax walked away from the teen. When the behemoth stepped out of Peter's line of sight, the brunette laid eyes on the exotic green woman sitting at the round table, with her not paying attention to Peter in the slightest. Peter looked at her, still not comfortable with his surroundings. "Uh, hi," he was able to chirp out.
The woman just stared blankly at the wall, frozen like a statue.
Quill, still behind Peter, rolled his eyes. "Gamora, it's polite to greet your guests instead of ignoring them. Come on, say hi."
"I have nothing to say to this disrespectful whelp," Gamora coldly stated, finally turning towards the boy.
"Gamora, anything he did-"
"Do not defend him," Gamora cut Quill off, standing up from the chair and getting right in the young hero's face. "I gave him my care, my assistance, and he attacks me and my teammate. I want to be clear. If you ever show me or my comrades less respect than we have earned, I will hunt you down, break you down into a heaping pile of useless flesh, and slit your throat myself."
Peter stared at her in utter shock, his mouth agape in horror, as Quill grabbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head in frustration, not happy at all with how things were going.
Peter, after a few long moments, closed his mouth, and found his voice. "I...uh...hope I don't make you do that."
Gamora nodded at the comment, before sitting back down. Peter couldn't believe it. He thought Black Widow was the scariest woman around, but no, there was a scarier one in space this entire time. How lucky of him to meet her.
"Hey!"
Peter snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the voice. However, when he looked around, he didn't see anyone there.
"Down here ya crap monkey!"
Peter looked down, to see a talking raccoon in a type of sleeveless jumpsuit, walking on his hind legs, with a gun strapped to his back.
"What?" Rocket asked, agitated. "Too good to say hi to me?"
Peter's eyes were as wide as saucers, as he stared at the genius mechanic, silent.
Rocket started feeling a little uncomfortable, as he looked towards Quill. "Is he ok?"
"You're a talking raccoon," Peter dumbly stated.
Rocket threw his arms up, annoyed. "Seriously, you too with this raccoon thing?" He then turned back to Quill. "Is that how all you terrains say hi to people? Seriously, what a disgustingly rude race."
"A talking raccoon is insulting me," Peter observed, still in disbelief.
Rocket's muzzle twitched. "You wanna see insultin'?" Rocket asked, furious as he took off the gun strapped to his back, and pointed it right at Peter. "I'll show you insultin'!"
Peter's spider sense blared violently, before Quill quickly jumped in-between the two. "Rocket, what're you doing!?"
"He hurt my feelings!" Rocket yelled, still holding the gun.
"So you were going to shoot him!?"
"Fair is fair!"
Peter backed up from the group of space folk, as they seemed to all start talking about something. Peter didn't have to be a genius to know that it was about him, but he didn't want to eavesdrop, knowing that would probably only make things worse. Instead, he found a chair next to a faraway table, and sat at it, resting his arms and head on it.
He couldn't believe how bad the Ol' Parker Luck was treating him lately. He got shot into space, and met probably the craziest people in the entire galaxy. He had no clear way of getting home, and everyone he knew was probably worried sick for him. Aunt May, Tony, Harry, MJ, Gwen...
Oh god, how was he going to explain this to Gwen? Hey, sorry we didn't go on a ton of dates, remember when I said I had to go to Latveria? Yeah, I got shot into a rocket instead. No hard feelings?
No. ALL the hard feelings. Of course the second Peter's actually able to get a girlfriend, things go nuts. He hopes that he didn't screw things up too badly. He really likes her.
Peter sighed, hearing the slightly unclear murmurs of the Guardians behind him. He looked on the table, to see a slightly large potted plant sitting there.
"At least the plants look nice," Peter thought aloud.
Suddenly, the plant moved slightly, to show that it had a little face. "I am Groot!" The plant happily exclaimed.
Peter stared wide eyed at it for a moment. "Can I go home now?"
"Is that Zac Efron?"
"Uh, yeah?"
"Next to Stephen Hawking?"
"I guess..."
Tony Stark was standing in Gwen Stacy's room, looking at the various posters on the girl's wall. He couldn't believe the mix of stereotypical girl things, next to scientific posters. As he scanned the wall, Gwen sat awkwardly behind him, on her bed.
After a few moments, Tony laid eyes on one poster in particular, that surprised him above all else. "Is that a AC/DC poster?" He asked, looking at her and pointing at the object in question.
"Y-yes it is," she said, hoping every second that she doesn't blow her chance here. She could really use that scholarship money, and there was no way she was getting another opportunity to talk to Tony freaking Stark.
Tony, however, seemed impressed by the fact that Gwen knew about one of his favorite rock bands. "You know, Peter doesn't really know much about good music. He listens to these alternative bands that I've never heard of." He then paused, thinking about what he said. "God, I'm old."
Gwen narrowed her eyes. "I thought you said you didn't know Pete?" She asked, confused.
Tony shrugged. "I might of lied there. Just a little. He's actually my favorite intern."
"Uh...and why did you lie?" Gwen asked, still not entirely sure what was happening.
"Because I wanted to talk to you about him, and I figured your father wouldn't let me talk to you unless your future was involved."
Gwen wasn't quite sure what to make of it, so she just shrugged. "Oh. I mean, yeah we can talk about Peter, I'd be happy to."
Tony just looked at her, curious. "You aren't mad?" Tony asked, not really showing any emotion. "I just dangled a bunch of money in your face, then snatched it away and said I'd rather discuss your boyfriend. I know I'd be mad."
"Hey, if there's anything I can do to help Peter, then I'll do it," Gwen honestly said, not putting much thought behind her words.
Tony's eyebrows raised up in disbelief at the answer. Gwen, noticing the reaction, got a little worried that she said the wrong thing.
"What?" She asked.
"Nothing, it's just...wow," Stark said in disbelief, as he casually walked a little closer to her. "Now I get what he sees in you. I thought it was just cause he had a thing for blondes, but now...you know, people complain about millennials all the time, but the two I've met are pretty selfless." He seemed to go lost in thought for a second. "Maybe a little too selfless."
Gwen cocked an eyebrow. "Mister Stark, with all due respect, you're a strange guy."
Tony smirked slightly. "Guilty as charged," he agreed, as he sat down on the bed next to Gwen, who was still cross-legged on it. "I mean, I'm friends with an American icon and a sorta kinda android man. I'll think of a term for him some day. Miss Stacy, how did you meet Peter?"
Gwen tapped her cheek, thinking back. "We met back in middle school. Because..." she took a second, trying to remember. "Oh yeah! Flash Thompson threw him into a garbage can next to my locker. It was like the first time Flash started bullying him. We started talking when I helped him out of there."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Really? Peter never mentioned a Flash before," the billionaire stated. "I'm assuming Flash isn't his real name?"
"It's actually Eugene."
"Oh, how has Peter not used that against him?"
Gwen seemed a little suspicious of the former Avenger. "You seem to know a lot about a guy that's 'just an intern' to you."
"Like I said," Tony reminded her. "I kinda lied about that. I know a lot about him. I went over to his house once."
"So MJ wasn't lying," Gwen said to herself.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Again, just like Peter."
Gwen looked at the man, trying to figure out why he was actually there, and why he was talking about Peter. "What's going on?"
"What do you mean?" Tony said, playing dumb.
"You came over, lied to my dad, just so you could talk to me about an intern you sent to Europe. Did something...happen to him?"
Tony inwardly cringed at the mention of Europe, guilt still haunting him. How could he tell her what's really going on? That Peter's in danger? Wait. Did...did she know about Spider-Man? "I...just want a character witness. Someone to tell me about him and his impact in their life. Just to know I did something right in hiring them."
Gwen considered this for a second. Something seems off, like he wasn't telling the whole story. Of course he isn't. She knew why Peter was really in Europe, and knew that Tony really knew that he was Spider-Man, but, and this might be slightly embarrassing, she didn't know if she should tell him that she knew. That might complicate things for Peter, and for her. So, she might as well play dumb, and get all these 'rules' straightened out when Peter gets back.
The problems of being a superhero's girlfriend. Oh well, worth it.
"Well, he's...he's not like anyone I've ever met. He's smart, and kind, and..."
Tony tilted his head slightly when she trailed off. "What?" He asked.
"You've probably heard all this before," she said. "So how about I just tell you that there's no good reason that he is the way he is."
This threw Tony off. "Beg pardon?"
"He's lost so much, and he's still losing so much," she said. "He constantly has a million responsibilities, and it makes it hard for him sometimes. Heck, I'm still not sure if he and Harry are friends again or not. And he's never really recovered from his Uncle Ben dying..." Gwen thought to when Peter finally told her the full story about that. What a sad night. "But he doesn't give up. He doesn't, because he doesn't think he can. He has people relying on him, and he'll do anything to make sure they're ok. Even by doing something completely unconventional and ridiculous. That's why I'm dating him."
Tony went dead quiet, as he just stared at the girl. Her words echoed in his head, as he finally stood up, motivated once more. "Thanks kid, you helped me out," he said, as he opened up the door and was about to step out. However, he stopped real quick, before turning around and facing her once more. "What do you think about ESU?" He asked.
Gwen perked up a bit. "ESU? Well, they...they have a really cool science program."
"Glad you like it," Tony said. "I'm paying your tuition to it when you graduate. Congrats," he stated, as he walked out, leaving the stunned girl alone to herself. Once Tony was out of sight, she pumped her arms in victory, happily hopping up and down on her bed.
Tony left the apartment, thinking about what she said. Peter was just as important to others as he was to him. Probably more. However, one thing got to him.
"Completely unconventional and ridiculous..." he thought aloud. Time to throw the weirdest things he has at the wall. Time to do something he never thought that he'd do.
"I seriously hate this kid. I mean really, who does he think he is, insulting me like that?"
"I am Groot."
"I don't care if he complimented you! He's still a jerk!"
Rocket was tinkering with something he had been working on for a while, as Groot kept him company in his room. Ever since the battle with Ronan, Groot had been slowly growing into his original size, still being in a potted plant, but big enough to look like he could step out of it any day now.
"I am Groot?" the plant asked.
"No, I'm not being harsh. You don't like it when people call you a tree, do you?"
"I am Groot."
"Course not! So why should I tolerate being called a 'raccoon'?" Rocket said, with bitter air quotes being thrown around with his fingers. "Whatever the flark that is."
Groot gave a squeaky gasp at the furry mechanic.
"Oh, what, can't handle a little language?" Rocket asked.
"I am Groot!" The little potted plant protested.
"Ugh, fine, fine, I'll watch my mouth," Rocket conceded. "Big baby." Rocket then shook slightly in his chair, as the ship seemed to land. "What?" He asked himself, not expecting to stop anywhere. He looked out the window, to see the sight of a familiar ship dock. "Oh come on!" He shouted to himself, as he grabbed his gun, strapped it to his back, and quickly walked out of his room.
"I am Groot!"
Rocket quickly walked back into his room, and picked up the plant. "Sorry, still tryin' to get used to that."
"I am Groot," Groot understandingly said, as the two went into the hallway.
After a few moments, they made their way to the control room, seeing the rest of the Guardians, looking out the window at the almost futuristic and clean city they were now in. "Alright, anyone wanna tell me why the hell we're on Xandar?" The mechanic asked, earning the attention of the others.
"I am Groot?" Groot questioned.
Quill just shrugged. "I thought we needed to get out of the ship. You know, stretch our legs."
"Stretch our legs?" Rocket parroted, in disbelief. "Did you forget about the kid? Ya know, that rude little scumball we have hanging around?"
Quill rolled his eyes. "Rocket, calm down, ok? I didn't forget, and I know how serious this is. But come on, we've been cooped up here too long, and you know what it does to Drax."
The Destroyer nodded his head. "I am not fond of being locked inside these quarters. It makes me...irritable."
"We know, buddy," Quill said, patting the larger man's shoulder. "That's why we need to buy new furniture."
Rocket groaned, frustrated. "So, what, we're stuck with that weasel for even longer now because you want to take a little break?"
"I am not fond of him either," Gamora stated. "But it seems a bit strange for you to call someone else a 'weasel'."
Groot gasped. "I am Groooooot," he said, realizing what Gamora just insinuated about his best friend.
Rocket's beady eyes bulged slightly in rage. "Alright, let's get one thing straight here, alright!?" He started. "I am NOT a raccoon, I am NOT a weasel, I am NOT anything other than me! Got it, Greenie!?"
Gamora smirked. "You know, it's a bit adorable when you try to be menacing," she chided.
"AAAAAHHH!" Rocket shouted, infuriated. "I don't have to take this! I'm leaving!" He announced, turning around.
"Hey!" Quill said, making his teammate stop in his tracks.
Rocket slowly turned back around. "Yeah?"
"You know we're just teasing you, right?" Quill asked, concerned that he actually had hurt his feelings.
Rocket paused for a moment, before nodding his head. "Yeah. Just get annoyed sometimes, ya know?"
Quill smiled. "I know. It's cause we love ya," he joked.
"I do not love him," Drax stated. "He is my friend and ally, but I do not feel love for him."
"Metaphor," Quill clarified.
"Ah," Drax responded, knowing what he meant now.
"Rocket," Quill said. "Is there any chance you can get the kid?"
"Ugh, why do I have to grab him?" Rocket asked.
"Because you're heading that way. Tell him we're going on a field trip."
Rocket rolled his eyes, as he sat Groot down onto a chair. "Aye aye, jackass," he said, as he left the control room, and started wandering to where the Spider-freak was supposed to be at. "Hey, time to get off your ass and-" he cut himself off when he peeked inside, to see that he wasn't in his little room like he should've been. "Uh...that could be a problem..." he said to himself. Before Rocket was able to call in to the others, he heard a loud, clanking sound, like someone dropped metal on the ground.
It was a sound he knew too well.
"Hey!" He cried, as he quickly scurried down the hall, to get to the room he had made his workshop, to see Spider-Man, mask and all, perched on a chair, tinkering with some of the stuff he found. "Hey! Get away from my stuff you little twerp!" Rocket fumed, not happy to see someone messing with his things.
"Oh," Spidey absent-mindedly said, looking over to the furry Guardian. "This is your stuff?"
"What're ya, deaf?" Rocket asked. "Yes, this is my stuff! That's my scrap metal, and my tools, and that is my favorite screwdriver that you're getting your grubby little mitts on!"
Peter looked at the tool in his hand, before placing it back down on the table in front of him. "Sorry."
"You should be!" Rocket snapped. "I don't know what you Terrans do with those things!" He said, pointing at the teenager's hands. "You could've-" He trailed off, as he looked at the small, little contraption that Peter was working on. "What is that?" He asked, calming down.
"Oh, I saw you had some stuff that was similar to some things I had at home," Peter said. "And I was getting a little stir-crazy, so I started making something I was thinking about doing anyway."
Rocket carefully picked it up with two fingers, trying not to accidentally break it. "Looks like that symbol on your chest," he observed.
"Yep," Peter agreed. "It's a spider tracer."
Rocket looked up at the young man. "A what?"
"Spider tracer," Peter repeated, obviously excited about it. "I throw this on someone, it sticks, and bam! I can follow them."
Rocket looked at him quizzically. "So, what?" He asked. "You got some kind of homing device?"
Peter rubbed his head, not really wanting to go into explaining his spider sense, and how the tracer was on the same radio wave level that it was on. "It's...kinda like that. Just weirder."
"You're a humie in a red and gold suit that we found in a missile thingy," Rocket stated. "You're weirder in general."
"I would say something about a kettle and a pot, but I don't know if that's a thing in space," Peter stated.
"Whatever," Rocket said, as he threw the device back to Peter, who effortlessly caught it. "Anyway, get to the others. We're going out for a bit."
"And then we'll figure out how to get me home?" He asked. "Seriously, I have so much Game of Thrones to catch up on, it ain't even funny."
Rocket just stared at him.
"Oh, right. Space," Peter realized.
"You can go now."
"I think I'll do that."
"What're the numbers at, Professor Warren?"
Norman Osborn was talking on his phone, as he wandered around his modern penthouse apartment, light staining the walls in patches as the sun set, as he tried to see where his formula was at for the moment. He had been putting a lot of hours into what was once the super soldier serum, making it into his own. He hadn't worked on anything else. Why bother? He had the U.S. government breathing down his neck. His other projects weren't going to sate them now.
They had originally came to him to make weapons. Super people that would do the army's bidding. But during their testing stages, they were defeated, captured, and highly publicized.
Needless to say, Uncle Sam wasn't quite happy with that.
Gargan, Marko, the flight suit, all weapons that he had created. Weapons that he blamed on Toomes, the murderous fool. He hopes he rots, wherever the pompous man is.
But the fact of the matter is that he had various other weapons and test subjects lined up. Just waiting to be created. He doesn't know if he'll ever be able to finish them. That's something he'll have to figure out for another day.
"Only a few numbers are in the red, Mister Osborn," Warren said over the line. "Much less than previous tests, however. We are finally starting to see real progress being made. We seem to be missing something though."
"What?" Osborn asked, through gritted teeth.
"That's the main problem, sir. We have no idea."
Norman groaned, as he walked into his living room. "Ugh, you useless little-"
He cut himself off as he stared at the sight in front of him. His disappointing son Harry, standing near the front door with a frown on his face. Joined by the surprising presence of Tony Stark himself, dressed very casually.
"Warren," Osborn said into his phone, staring right at his business rival. "We'll talk later." He then hung up on his employee, before putting his phone back in his pocket.
"Nice place," Tony commented with a small frown as he stared at the red headed CEO. "Not as nice as Stark Tower of course, but still nice."
"What are you doing here, Stark?" Norman asked, as the two met halfway in the spacious living room. He then turned to his son, not happy. "And why, Harry, did you let him in?"
"I-I didn't-!"
"Just came by, said I was the pizza he ordered, and came in," Stark explained, walking more in the house. "Seriously, you should consider encrypting your son's phone too. Seems kinda selfish to just protect your own stuff."
"I never thought anyone would ever find Harry important enough to hack. Why would they? He isn't exactly an exciting prospect in the business world other than being my son," Norman stated, coldly, not even bothering to look at Harry.
Tony took a glance at the approaching Harry, who seemed hurt and angry by the comments. The billionaire felt like this wasn't a rare incident.
"Stark," Norman interrupted Tony's thoughts, making the slightly shaggy man turn back to him. "I'm going to ask one more time, before I call the police. Why are you here?"
Tony closed his eyes for a second. God, he hated this guy. Always has. He can't believe he was doing this.
He sighed, before he opened his eyes again. "I want to make a business deal with you," he painfully admitted.
Osborn blinked in surprise, before his face reverted to its normally cold demeanor. "Really now?" He asked, incredulous.
"Osborn, I'm not happy about it, don't make me drag this out," Stark said, a little frustrated. This man was ruthless. He doesn't care about the lives he effects with every invention or business practice he uses. He was a grim reminder of how bad Tony himself could've gotten if he ignored his morals as he wanted to do so many times. If he didn't stop mass producing weapons.
Norman just smirked, a hint of deviousness in his eye. "Now, why would I drag this out. Just to watch you squirm as you need me?"
"I just need some research of yours," Tony stated, as he pulled out a little device and projected a small hologram of some schematics. "You did some experiments where you modified a telescope to identify and zoom in on specific chemical outputs in space. It wasn't finished, but results looked promising." He then turned off the hologram and placed it back in his pocket. "I want to buy it off you."
"Ah, yes, the Ingrid telescope," Norman remembered. "I haven't thought about it in years. Why do you need it?"
Tony clenched his jaw slightly. "Figured it would be helpful to the Avengers. Help save people."
"Looking to expand, Stark?"
Tony stared at him with hard eyes. "Or we could be looking to avoid another Battle of New York. You know, when aliens destroyed and damaged half of the Manhattan?"
"Not my half."
The two stared at each other, distain in both of their eyes. Harry looked at the two, a little intimidated by the tension in the air. The clashing yet similar personalities were so strong by themselves, and seeing them collide was very intense.
"So, do we have a deal?" Stark asked.
Norman narrowed his eyes, just slightly. However, Tony knew this man well enough to know how significant it was.
"No," Osborn simply stated, ending the idea.
Tony rolled his eyes. When an Osborn narrows his eyes, that means he won't do whatever it was you asked. Every time. "Any chance you can reward me with a reason before being a jackass?" He asked, not happy.
"What reason do I need?" Stormin' Norman questioned. "You're my business rival, you've been nothing but a pain for me, and because of you, I have had to end many, many experiments that I was very fond of. Anything that would help you, hurts me. I will not hang the sword over my own head."
"So instead of helping people, you'll only help yourself?" Tony observed, frustrated.
"Why should I believe that you'll help people?" Norman asked. "Maybe you'll use it for your own purposes. Maybe you'll just use it to make yourself richer. You have done nothing but hurt my company. You have cost me untold millions of dollars. Hell, you have even taken Peter Parker, a young boy who has been friends with my son for years, a young boy who has limitless potential and unrivaled brain power when compared to anyone else his age, and you swooped him up and took him as your own as well. I will not believe anything you tell me.
"I carried a nuke into space to save your sorry ass!" Tony blew up. "I was an Avenger! I've saved this city and this planet more times than you've had whole fat cream cheese on your bagel, and you're saying that I would LIE about this?"
"Yes," Osborn confrimed. "You may of convinced the rest of the world that you've changed, but you're still the same arms dealing maverick you've always been." He frowned deeply. "You're just better at hiding it."
The CEO put his arms behind his back, as he started walking towards the front door. "I have work that needs to be done at the lab. Harry, against my better judgment, I'm going to trust you to show Mister Stark out. Try not to disappoint me this time," he venomously requested, as he walked out without even looking at the two.
Tony kept clenching and unclenching his fists, furious with the man. The arrogance. That irritating air of smugness. That unearned sense of superiority. What a deplorable human being. He hated him. It took a lot for Tony to actually hate someone, but Jesus, that man deserved it. Now he was back to square one.
Tony suddenly realized that he wasn't alone. He looked over at Harry, who seemed angered as well. The billionaire looked into the young boy's eyes, to see a very familiar look. A look of hurt that you can only achieve with a very specific thing.
A father's disapproval. A father's distain. A father's uncaring attention.
"Hey," Tony said, making the boy perk up slightly and look at him. "I, uh, I remember you."
Harry furrowed his brow slightly. "Uh, yeah?" He said, not sure how to respond. "You interviewed me at the school. You said you couldn't hire me because you-"
"Could never trust an Osborn," Tony finished. "I know. Hell, could you blame me after seeing this?"
Harry crossed his arms, a little despondent. "I guess not."
Tony sighed, as he looked away from the red head. "You seem different though. If Norman doesn't approve, you must be doing something right."
Harry was a bit taken aback by the words, not use to hearing that kind of encouragement. "Th-thank you."
"No problem," Tony said, thinking for a second. "Hey, you're friends with Peter, right?" He asked, as he looked over at him again.
Harry nodded.
Tony cocked his head slightly. "You know...that pizza should be here soon. Wanna eat and talk?" Tony asked. "I'll buy."
Harry looked at the front door for a second, before shrugging. "What the hell, he'll be disappointed in me either way. Sure."
Tony smirked. Maybe this kid will give him an idea. And if not, at least he'll get an interesting conversation.
"Was that guy wearing a gas mask?"
Spider-Man was alongside the Guardians, as they wandered across Xandar, gathering a few snacks and stretching their legs before getting back on the ship. Peter, however, was absolutely amazed. He had pictured what life on other planets would be like thousands of times, but it was never anything like this. The unique architecture of the crowded city, the crystal blue ponds surrounding it, and of course, the various races that mingle with each other, varying by shape, size, color, and whether or not they have tentacles.
At least, that was how Peter was grouping them.
"Seriously," Peter blabbered, his mask right on his face. "Why the gas mask? Is it a fashion statement?"
"I don't know," Rocket, already annoyed, deadpanned. "Is yours?"
"Uh, I just like wearing it when I'm nervous. Which is all the time out here," Peter admitted, twiddling his thumbs as they walked through the crowds.
"I would be a bit more sensitive to the Lias' mask," Gamora stated, looking at the alien. "Their race had some sort of biological weapon dropped on them. They're lucky they're still alive."
"Bio weapon?" Peter asked.
Drax nodded, as he held the potted Groot, who was just looking around and smiling. "The Lia were attacked many centuries ago by a warring species. They dropped a bomb which changed who they were."
"Yeah," Rocket chimed in. "Rewrote their genetic makeup, so that any air they breath is toxic. Have no idea how they didn't immediately go extinct, but hey, good for them."
"Shows their strength," Drax stated. "Even though they look ridiculous."
"Yeah," Quill added. "But hey, better than dying, right?"
"I don't know," Peter started. "As you can tell, I'm very fashion conscious."
"I am Groot," Groot said.
"Is there a reason that's all he can say?" Peter asked the only other human around him.
Quill shrugged. "He just has a limited vocabulary. Just have to listen to the inflections."
"Oh, great," Peter joked. "And here I thought I was going to have to do something silly." He then looked over and noticed the frown on Groot's tiny, wooden face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I still like you the best."
Groot then smiled. "I am Groot!" He happily stated.
"Can I kill him now?" Gamora whispered to Drax.
"No, not after he complimented the plant," Drax whispered back. "That would be poor timing."
"How about when he makes a stupid comment?"
"That would be every five seconds," Drax pointed out.
"True," Gamora considered. "How about when he makes Quill mad?"
"That's better."
"No one's killing anyone!" Quill harshly whispered to the both of them, overhearing more than they thought. He then looked over at Peter, who was out of earshot. "We will figure out what to do with him later, ok?" He asked, as he then walked over to Peter, who was checking the alien metropolis out.
"So..." He began. "This was real fun, and insanely cool, but I miss my home. When are we going back?"
"Uh, soon," Quill said. "We just gotta do a few things first."
Peter looked at him with wide, gold lenses. "I...don't understand. I thought you said we'd be going right after this."
"Uh, yeah, but, you know..."
"Know what?" Peter asked. "Know who Blue Swede is? Cause I don't. We established that."
"Still breaks my heart."
"I know what Pi is," he blabbered. "Or that Baton Rouge is the capital of Louisiana, or that Old Man Jenkins was the monster all along, but I don't know why we can'y head back to Earth yet."
Quill felt nervous. "Uh, don't worry kid, we'll get there soon, we just..."
"Seriously, what's the reason we can't go now?" Peter interrogated, still got understanding what was happening. "The ship's fueled up, we have a bunch of food, and we're all stretched now. So, why?"
"Look, Peter, just trust me. We can't head-"
He was cut off, as what appeared to be a meteorite sailed right over the city, loudly whooshing by, and earning the attention of the aliens around. The meteor quickly and violently crashed in what appeared to be the center of town, next to a fountain, only a little bit away from the Guardians as the civilians around them started to spread out in slight fear.
Star-Lord's eyes widened in terror. "Oh no..."
"What?" Peter asked, as he looked at the others, and noticed their faces also had the same expression. Peter's head then started buzzing hard in his head. "What!? What is it!?"
The meteor near the destroyed fountain split open, as smoke rose from it.
"He found us," Rocket stated. "What the hell, he wasn't suppose to find us already!"
"Shhh!" Quill ordered.
"Who?!" Peter said, panicking. "Who!?"
The smoke started to clear, as a hand popped out of the meteor, and grabbed the edge, pushing himself up. He showed himself to be a tall man, with long black hair, and what appeared to be dangerous red eyes. He was thin, yet muscular, as his chest seemed broad enough. His intimidating figure stood straight, as he had an air of regality to him. In fact, his clothes seemed fancy, almost something out of Victorian England. However, what Peter noticed was his gaze, as it locked right onto him, and did not move an inch, a devilish frown on his pale face. He seemed like a predator, and he stared at Peter like he was the prey.
He didn't seem real. He seemed like the devil himself.
"Morlun," Quill gasped, as the others stared in disbelief. "Morlun the Inheritor."