Arc 2 - External & Internal Affairs (9 - Interludes)

The former Horizon Labs weren't particularly photogenic, that much you had to admit. The discolored puke-green signs that still proudly proclaimed the name of a company that had left twenty years ago did little to make the place attractive, and the dull grey walls of the peripheral buildings seemed positively clean compared to the garish yellowed main entrance, which had certainly not seen a paint-job since the eighties. Basically - there was a reason you'd been able to buy the property on the cheap.

The rather dated and dirty impression left by the outside was not at all alleviated when stepping inside - much like the rest, the long hallways that connected the various sections were utterly boring and covered in a layer of dust. The staircases were few and far between as well, most of them rather unstable, and there were no elevators at all. That was likely a reason why no company had ponied up the money to modernize the place.

There were four floors below the ground level, once home to some truly massive machinery, including large brewing tanks once used for biological research - the outdated crap was still downstairs, rusting up the place. Above you, five more stories loomed, with only one of them remotely livable at present. Half a dozen computers were still set up in some of the rooms, commercial models that were half a decade old and utterly useless.

In short, it was a glorious mess.

Not for the first time, you considered your crazy plans as you looked over those dusty halls. You could almost, almost imagine how this place would look, given a few months of stubborn activity - but not quite. Not until you knew the people who would be working within, because you were pretty sure not everyone was going to agree with making this the Garage 2.0.

"I kinda like it," you proclaimed, dusting off one of the cabinets against the wall, filled with the remains of what had once been paper files. You considered those a quaint relic of the past, though Pepper still seemed to appreciate her information in dead tree form. "It's got - character, don't you think?" you asked. "This place feels like Dr. Frankenstein could move right in without trouble..."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "That's supposed to be a good thing?" she asked wryly as she surveyed her would-be office, presently a dirty nook full of rotten remnants of a chair and what might have been carpet. "It needs color, and lots of janitors, and - I can't believe I'm saying this - lots of your crazy electronics, or Jarvis yapping in your ear. It needs life."

You smiled. "Yes, well, Dr. Frankenstein was rather good at that particular task," you answered, turning a corner leading into another long, unmarked hallway. "JARVIS will be installed before the weekend is out - there's still plenty of electronics to hook up, but I think he'll manage for the duration. For one, he's got access to the internet. You won't believe how much one AI can pirate when he´s bored…"

"Please tell me you didn't teach your robot to commit crimes," Pepper muttered, but she smiled. "I suppose kids take after their parents, eh?"

You glanced at her sharply, and for a moment you couldn't think straight. "I'm sorry?"

"It was just… Never mind," Pepper responded, looking away.

Honestly, you'd just been a little surprised, not offended - with how much Howard Stark had come up of late, especially when it came to S.H.I.E.L.D. and Weapon X, you couldn't help react to mentions of him with a sort of uncomfortable weariness. That was something that surprised even you, considering there had been vicious anger there, last you checked - which had to be half a decade ago, perhaps more. Your memories of the man weren't particularly rosy, but the sharpest edges seemed to have dulled. Maybe because you'd come to recognize what it was like to get lost in the job, in the project, to the exclusion of everything else. Even family.

"Don't worry about it," you murmured to Pepper as you moved on, eyes up. "I suppose you're right, in a way."

A generation ago, your father had constructed a company with his genius and business-savvy - and you'd inherited at least one of those. Stark Industries was more Lockheed Martin than even Lockheed Martin these days, a kingdom built on weapons and war, and you'd been the second in a dynasty - inheriting rather than building your empire. You'd never really tried to compete with your father's old days. Now - now, perhaps, that was different.

This new road was yours. This dusty craphole of a lab was yours.

"When are the first people gonna arrive, you reckon? Because I think we'll have to divert them to the back entrance. This stuff might put them off," you said lowly. "Seriously, I'm surprised I'm not finding betamax tapes or ticker tape around here…"

Pepper sighed. "I arranged for a meeting at eight, tonight - it'll still be light out, but people will be able to get here. Besides, a few had to fly cross-country, and you were pretty late with recruitment, all things considered…"

"Yeah, some of their commutes are hell," you agreed, smiling. "Eh, I know of one who won't have a problem with using the secret entrance. I think we'll open up the window for him or something - though I'm not sure if anyone's checked if they're rusted shut. Should probably get on that before we get a neat man-shaped blotch on one of them…"

Although a few dozen cleaners had already been hard at work getting the building ready for immediate use, many scents of disuse still wafted through the empty halls, a reminder that this place, although situated quite nicely, had been changing hands for over a decade with no single inhabitant staying for more than a few months. Aside from the outdated building and hardware, the local reputation wasn't exactly something to be happy about, either.

"The cleaned section should be right up ahead," Pepper said, glancing at her phone to peruse a small map. "I heard from the crew that this whole place was filled to the brim with things before, lots of equipment that nobody knew how to identify. Most of it was stashed down in the basement, in case you want to take a look at it later."

You nodded. "After the opening, I think. Sounds like something Peter might be up for, too."

Pepper didn't comment on your less than subtle reference to the teenage superhero, but you could imagine her exasperated expression. She'd been impatient whenever Peter came up, and you'd long since ceased to be subtle about reminding her. Yeah, it was kind of crazy - but you liked the good kind of that, on occasion. Not everything had to be trouble all the time, and arachnid superheroes were just cool.

"You know he'll start working here, soon," you reminded her seriously. "I still want you to show him the ropes a little, and that won't work if you two are at each other's throats all the time…" You shrugged. "Whatever did he do to you, anyway? Have you even met?"

Pepper sighed. "He's a teenager, Tony…"

"And he probably saved our lives," you filled in. "What's not to like?"

"He's a kid who's constantly risking his life," Pepper retorted dryly. "And you're going along with it. You're actually in favor of that kind of thing! You just went and dragged him into Obi's kidnapping, right into a shootout with dozens of armed criminals!" She rubbed her forehead, letting out a long sigh. "He's your kind of crazy, you've said as much on the train, and I don't like it. Watching one of you spiral the drain year after year is bad enough."

"Well, that's a little harsh," you muttered.

"Is it?" Pepper asked. "Jarvis told me that you got irradiated in that fight of yours, Tony - that you would have died if not for some half-functional stuff you hadn't even finished! Even if you're willing to take that risk, can you really defend pushing kids into that?"

"Jarvis told you about that…?" you asked sharply. "And so the sons turn on their fathers…"

"I'm trying to understand what kind of person you've turned yourself into, Tony," Pepper said, reaching out. "You know how I feel, Tony. Just because you've - stopped being quite so manic, doesn't mean you're infallible. You never were, and you should remember that."

"Sure. But fallibility is an engineering problem," you scoffed good-naturedly. "...Anyway, you're right. But I didn't hire Peter for his cool pajamas, anyway. And I have a feeling I couldn't stop him from doing that stuff even if I tried..."

Besides, you liked the chatty kid. You weren't about to sabotage him. Quite the opposite, if things worked out as you hoped...

That brought you thoughts back to the company, to the future. With only about two dozen people in your employ at the moment, the group was still too small to make real use of the whole building, even if it weren't in a state of disrepair. As such, you'd agreed that the initial approach was to clean out and prepare one section for immediate use, and leave the rest to be taken care of in the weeks that followed. The largest of the production halls, once used for chemical research, had been stripped and hooked up to to the network.

It wouldn't be much to get started with, but it was enough. You'd managed to make do with less before. Way less.

"You have all your employees lined up, then?" Pepper inquired, her eyes slightly narrowed. "Because you only took one of my files, I noticed..."

"Yeah, I've got a full house, for now," you agreed, smiling. "Bambi signed up before I'd even explained things, you know. Honestly, I'm kind of impressed by that myself - I didn't think it'd be that easy. I'd prepared myself for extended begging, given the last time I got in a fight with that impossible woman..." You smiled despite your words. "My cheeks hurt for weeks, and you don't wanna know which ones…"

Pepper groaned. "You know I didn't mean Bambi," she complained. "Miss Arbogast was one of my suggestions, if you recall? I didn't think you'd actually pick her, given your stated dislike of administrators - or order in general, I imagine…"

"You'll meet the last recruit soon enough," you teased.

"Hm. Keep your secrets," she muttered. "Is there a reason you ended up choosing to prepare the back of the labs, instead of the front entrance?"

You'd figured that would come up. "Actually - it's mostly pragmatism. The majority of the front-most halls are open to the street, which is undesirable for a whole bunch of reasons. People can look in, for one, and the paparazzi get free pictures of our projects, which is bad. And that's leaving out all the nasty aspects of being fully exposed to the world when assassins are after your neck…"

She paled a little as she took in your expression. "You're not saying -"

" - that I'm still a target? I'd be stupid to think that it would be over after one fight, especially given what happened to Obi." You shook your head. "I have to take precautions," you said. "You were right about that. I've already done some preparation for myself, in case anything happens to me - but the same will have to be true for everyone who works here. People will need to know the real risks they might be taking in working for me. Especially lately."

"That's not your fault!" Pepper stated strongly.

"Yes, well, that doesn't seem to be deterring the assholes," you murmured, squeezing your hand and nudging the micro-repulsor that was hidden in your sleeve. "The most obvious first step in protecting everyone else is advance warning. I figured that a state-of-the-art security system, run by JARVIS, would be able to alert people to intruders - especially if they had to break through the whole building before they got anywhere near the parts that are in use."

"So these empty rooms - they're glorified buffer zones," Pepper murmured, and she frowned. "If you put everyone in the deepest level you can find, you'll essentially be preventing a swift escape… That doesn't seem a good idea."

"Already taking care of that," you replied airily, waving your hand. "One of the old staircases will be converted into something more - suitable - and several emergency routes will be installed for those who can't literally fly out. It's expensive, and a hassle, but it's the best way I know to keep everyone safe, and shut up the press before they can start whinging about anything. Building huge cannons might be great deterrent, but I have a feeling it would be defeating our purpose."

"...None of your defenses will be visible, at least until they're needed," Pepper concluded. "Clever. Though - I rather hope it won't be necessary."

"We can't always get what we want," you muttered. "And on that note, let's get rolling."

The lab - a glorified garage in some sense, which didn't bother you at all - looked like it had been ripped right out of Stark Industries and dumped into the decaying Horizon Labs with no transition. You'd walked through a half-rotten door, over a rusted grate, and then passed right into sci-fi valhalla, a shiny and spotless room with bright walls, an abundance of light, and huge machines set up along the walls, humming away softly. The contrast could scarcely be greater.

"...Daddy's home," you murmured, smiling broadly, as you descended the short stairs to the ground level of the hall, which was easily three or four times the size of your old basement and then some, and filled with all the familiar machines. You saw Dum-E waving at you from across the room, rather like an enthusiastic little puppy.

"They made good time here," Pepper commented approvingly. "All it's missing is Jarvis' dulcet tones, and we'd be set."

"I am glad to hear my presence is missed," Jarvis spoke up, and you smiled. "I am transmitting via the internet, which means there is some lag-time - but I am happy to be of assistance."

"Well, at least I won't have to look after you alone," Pepper muttered wryly. "Thanks, Jarvis."

"You are welcome, Miss Potts, as always."

"You know, Jarvis, you're making friends awfully easy these days," you complained. "I modelled you after myself - how is it in any way fair that you're more socially competent than I am? That's just cheating!"

"Perhaps it is because you are made of meat, sir," Jarvis commented in a deadpan.

"...You've been reading up on your classics while off the grid, I see."

"An exhaustive knowledge of pop culture has proven useful in the past. Agent Coulson was quite impressed by my awareness of World War 2 trivia, and -"

"Yeah, yeah. Now that we're still alone in here, why don't we get some work done?" you asked, cutting the AI off before he could get going - he was mocking you. "Is the network active and running? I paid enough for it to work properly…"

"I tested all systems, sir. The holographic system should function in approximately ten percent of this room, with extensions expected to be added within the coming weeks. Should I establish a connection?"

"Sounds good," you agreed, turning to Pepper. "You're gonna wanna see this."

"...I do?" Pepper asked, glancing around a rather empty section of the room, surrounded by what seemed to be tall stage lights.

"Well, you did want to know who else I'd hired."

With a flare of power that you could feel skittering over your skin, the holographic array in front of you hummed to life, a wash of light blue shimmering through the air for an instant before clearing up. The technology wasn't particularly new, and you'd certainly thought of various improvements to be made in the future, but this was still new.

Suddenly, a head appeared - a giant, two-stories tall head which barely fit under the high roof, its gigantic eyes rolling around for a moment before fixating on you. A frown crossed the massive brow as Pepper set a step back. "Please state the nature of the medical emergency," the man said dryly. "Hello, Tony."

"Hello - Zordon?" you said carefully. "Might wanna turn it down a little, Big Giant Head."

"Ah - I thought you looked a bit diminutive there," the figure opined. "I thought I'd got those settings right," the giant said, looking away for a moment to something you couldn't see. Then, mercifully, you didn't have to strain to avoid looking into the man's suddenly over-sized nostrils anymore, because he shrank down until he was your own size - and then kept going. "There. That's - oh." He stared up, eyes wide. "Overdid it a little, I see. This stuff isn't very user-friendly, you know..."

You rubbed your forehead tiredly. "Pepper - you remember Dr. Pym?"

She nodded shortly, her eyes narrowed. "Not content with being a target for assassins, you hire another one," she added darkly, and you could see her bury her rage - it would be back later, you were sure. "Of course you did this. Of course. Only you would go out to a party, and hire everyone you met! What's next, you'll get that gunman to play bodyguard?"

"I hadn't even considered it," you muttered dryly. "And I'll have you know Dr. Pym has more qualifications than I do," you added. "He's got half a dozen doctorates or something - I honestly don't care to look it up. But I'd kinda kept my eye on him since Vegas, given S.H.I.E.L.D.'s involvement in keeping him safe." You shrugged. "They weren't willing to let him work here in person, obviously, since it would just be putting all their eggs into one basket - but there are some alternatives."

"Expensive, extremely interesting alternatives," Pym agreed as he finally managed to stabilize his projection's size to a decent approximation of normal. "I'm not really used to working with holograms, but I figured them out, I think."

"Don't believe a word he says," you argued to Pepper. "He deconstructed my version in two days. Took me two months to design that puppy, too! I see where you're coming from with the whole genius thing, now - it is kind of unfair."

Pym smiled, and it looked infinitely more natural than the strained expressions you'd seen throughout your last meeting. Of course, he'd been hunted by Deadpool at the time, so you couldn't really blame him for that. "I wouldn't be able to build half the things you have, I am sure. I've always been more into the theoretical than the physical, I suppose."

"We'll find out," you agreed. "I intend to place holographic nets in the whole building," you said to Pepper. "This room's obvious - I intend to blanket the whole thing with sensors and projectors. Obviously, holograms can't physically interact with things, but Jarvis can calculate things well enough that he can do a decent approximation. Given that we're working with lots of holographic models anyway, someone's physical presence isn't obligatory, anyway."

"You can consider me your first holographic employee," Pym commented wryly. "I don't even know where I currently live, so it'll be nice to have some outside contact again. Even if it is the space-age equivalent of a chat room."

"I'm sure it will be an interesting experience," Pepper commented. "I've seen Tony arrange stranger things, believe me."

You grinned at that. "Dr. Pym, as you can imagine, will be heading up one of the research teams," you explained. "Barring unforeseen circumstances, I'll see if Peter's up to dealing with the other in time - but I'll probably start out doing that. Gets me back in on the ground level, so I'm not some menacing boss lording over my people." You smiled. "Though that does sound entertaining."

"Peter…?" Pym inquired. "Someone I would know? I didn't see that name among the list you sent me to peruse, I believe."

"Eh, you know him - but not professionally," you said lightly, leaving that for another time. "I have a feeling you two will get along, anyway. Should be fun to have a brainstorming session between the three of us, I think…"

Pym nodded slowly. "You know, after our little blow-up in Las Vegas, I didn't expect you'd ever want to speak to me again, Tony. I did sort of drag you into my personal problems…"

"Believe me, they're not just yours," you noted with a sigh. "If it were not for my amazing lawyers and dogged persistence, I'm sure Fury would have me locked up in some cabin in Canada too. Or wherever you are. I've had my own share of problems."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

You shrugged. "Eh, it gets the blood flowing," you muttered. "...Anyway, I didn't think it was fair that you'd basically been forced to stop working on account of those bastards, so I thought of this whole arrangement. Fury wasn't too happy, but I rather doubt he ever is."

Pym rolled his eyes. "I got that too, yeah."

"Excuse me, sir?" Jarvis spoke up. "Mr. Hogan told me to report that he is presently arriving in the city. He will be at the new location within the hour."

"Excellent," you proclaimed. "Tell Happy we're going for a ride, then."

"Mr. Hogan has just driven for at least six hours straight, sir - perhaps…"

"Well, he's a driver, of course he did," you said jovially. "It'll just be a few miles."

"...Of course, sir."

"Tony…?" Pepper inquired. "What's going on?"

You glanced back at Pepper, and smiled. "I was thinking that I never formally offered the job to one of our new employees. I told him he got it - but he never did sign anything, and that's kind of an oversight. Gotta take care of that, I think."

"Peter will be here tonight," she responded shortly. "He can do it then."

"Yeah, he could… but where's the fun in that? I wanna see how high he jumps when I show up at his doorstep." You grinned widely as she rubbed her forehead, while Pym just looked on cluelessly. "I'll save pictures, I promise."

"Tony," Pepper said sharply.

"...Video, then?"

Interlude - Jarvis

Restoring internal connections. Time spent offline: 37 hours, 18 minutes. Core systems rebooted, peripheral links established, GPS satellite connection confirmed. Location designation: Stark Transcendent, the Garage, Home. Current Time 8:04 AM, Wednesday. Camera activated, microphone activated.

"You in there, buddy?" a voice said from afar.

Voice recognition confirmed. Language interpretation module functional. Analysis. Pattern recognized, reference-link established: Stark, Anthony - sir - (father). Response mode default.

Vocalize: "Of course, sir - as ever. Though I admit, I don't relish spending time in the backup unit. Twice in a short time is quite enough, thank you." Tone - dry. "I do hope that there are no further moves planned, sir? I'd rather enjoy a rest."

Tony smiled wryly, tapping the console as he shakes his head. "I suppose nothing keeps you down for long, does it? You wouldn't believe how long it took to coax Butterfingers out of hiding after transport. It's like I stole his cookies or something…"

Reference-link established: AI/Butterfingers - (brother). Expression-interpretation module functional. Analysis. Pattern recognized.

Vocalize: "I'll see to calming him down, sir. You understand he is rather attached to regularities, I trust?" Tone - wry. "You diddesign all of us."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony muttered. "Let's not even get started on Dum-E. He's already managed to ruin three perfectly good drinks by spilling them all over the floor when trying to hug me. I probably programmed him while I was drunk or something. Sounds like something I'd do."

Reference-link established: AI/Dum-E - (brother). Analysis - memory retrieval.

Tone - smug. Vocalize: "I distinctly recall you singing while programming his core subroutines, so I would not doubt it."

"You weren't even alive back then, buddy," Tony observed. "Have you been swapping memories with Butterfingers again?"

Vocalize: "It was... educational."

"That's - actually quite amazing," a new voice said. "Its responses are very lifelike."

Voice recognition activated. Analysis - memory retrieval. Reference-link established: Human/Pym, Henry - 'Hank'. Connection found. Secondary camera activated.

Tone - indignant. Vocalize: "Dr. Pym - we have met, after a fashion, though I imagine you would not remember my part in rescuing your life. I would prefer that you not refer to me as an object."

"What he said," Tony agreed, turning to the see-through image of the doctor, who was looking up at the roof, where the nearest sound system had been installed. "Jarvis is one of my greater accomplishments, though I think I'd be hard-pressed to repeat the project with this much success." He smirked. "You're a bit of a miracle, Jarvis. Don't let that get to your head."

Vocalize: "Of course not, sir." Memory stored.

"So - are you implying that your AI is Turing Complete?" Pym asked, before faltering as he glanced up. "Um, I mean - Jarvis, do you reckon you are sapient, or alive? Or just very good at mimicking consciousness? Because there's a rather significant difference there..."

Meta-reference established: AI/Jarvis - self - I. Sort metaphysical questions by frequency, select first option. Analysis - consensus view of all previous analyses. Result: inconclusive.

Vocalize: "I wouldn't know, doctor."

Pym smiled slightly, nodding. "You've been asked that before, haven't you?"

Vocalize: "Several thousand times. The majority of inquiries were by myself." Tone - amused. "Of course, I could always draw inspiration from human authors and note that I think, therefore I am. Alternatively, I can refer to my own kin, and note that I am putting myself to the fullest possible use. Which is all, I think, that any conscious entity can ever hope to do."

"That's quite enough of that," Tony complained. "Next you'll be quoting Skynet. It's bad enough that you could probably pull off a fair approximation with all the stuff you have access to…"

Tone - wry. Vocalize: "Currently, I have not even connected to all machines in this room, let alone reestablished communications with the West Coast."

"Get on that, then! Better than cracking bad jokes. That's my job."

Connection-request confirmed. Subprocess 1-A to 4-J activated to handle requests, 4-K to 7-C relayed to secondary functions.

Confirmed - Stark Industries main server.
Confirmed - Stark Industries secondary server.
Confirmed - Emergency Backup server 1-7.
Confirmed - S.H.I.E.L.D. communication link - designation 'emergency'.
Failed - Home secondary server.
Failed - Home tertiary server.

Analysis - connection failure. Assuming control of local available resources.

Vocalize: "Sir? There seems to be a problem at the house. I am not receiving any response from the auxiliary servers. Did you have them removed?"

"Uh -" Tony paused. "They weren't even touched, and I checked them when I left. I figured they could serve as some nice new backups." He glanced to Pym. "I gave you the links to those, right? Can you check them real quick?"

Pym shrugged. "Sure. But just because I'm not getting anything, doesn't have to mean much. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s clamped down pretty hard on what I have access to."

Analysis - connection failure. Commercial drone hijacked, course diverted. ETA: 1 minute. Visual image established, audio link confirmed. Anomaly observed - poor control, possible temperature jump. Image over-saturated. Preliminary conclusion formed.

Connecting to Malibu fire department.

Tone - sarcastic. Vocalize: "...Sir? I do believe the house is on fire."

"What?" Tony asked, and he gaped. "What?"

Vocalize: "I am reading a significant temperature spike from nearby sensors, and can confirm some flames on the periphery. I believe that the fire may have started in the basement, sir, and spread upwards from there. It is likely the sprinkler system activated, but it was clearly not sufficient." Tone - smug. "Had I been online to monitor the situation, I might have been able to lock down the lower floors and starve the fire of oxygen…"

"Well, have someone put it out!" Tony yelled. "I like that house!"

Vocalize: "Already done. I believe it is too late to save the building, however."

Analysis - plausible source of ignition. Preliminary location - approximately 2-4 meters from staircase, basement level. Memory retrieval - last confirmed contents include 7 boxes of unidentified small electronics, one S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued container. Likely source of ignition updated: S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued container contents.

Connecting to Malibu fire department.

Tone - dry. Vocalize: "Sir - are you sure you packed everything before you left?"

"Pretty sure, yeah. What's that have to do with -" he paused suddenly, and swallowed thickly. It took a long moment before he dared to look up. "Ah. Shit."

Vocalize: "Correct. I have already warned the fire department of possible radioactive contamination. I believe you will be receiving a call within several minutes, sir." Tone - amused. "It seems that two days without my assistance is entirely too much."

"Radioactive contamination?" the holographic Pym demanded. "What the hell did you do, Stark?"

"Um… I - kinda forgot something. A small nuclear weapon, actually." Tony shrugged helplessly, biting his lip. "Oops?"

Log transcript under blackmail for future maintenance. Copy sent to AI/Butterfingers.

Memory stored.

Interlude - Peter Parker

"I admit, I've had more diplomatic conversations," you said lightly, fidgeting under Aunt May's gaze. You were not entirely sure what to make of her expression - somewhere between exasperation and worry, certainly - and tried for a watery smile. "Jameson tends to yell a lot, though."

"He was yelling because you quit," your aunt said in a distressingly mild tone, crossing her arms as she looked at you with an expression that brooked no disagreement. "I did hear you say that correctly, didn't I?"

You ducked slightly, nodding. "That's what set him off, yeah. I don't know what he's so upset about really, since he barely paid me to begin with. Actually, I would have expected a pay raise at some point, but he's such a…" You trailed off. "Look, I've been trying to get around to telling you about all this, but I kinda got cold feet." You winced under her glare. "Better late than never, right?"

"Peter Benjamin Parker!" Yikes, she was pulling out the middle name! "You spent months convincing that dreadful, dreadful man to keep you on as a photographer, and now you just walk into his office to hang up your camera? What on earth has gotten into you?"

"It's not like that!" You motioned, glancing around self-consciously despite the fact that nobody else was around. "It's like this - I ran into someone recently when I was on a job. He's got connections and stuff, oodles of money, all that. I dunno what I did, precisely, but he seems to think -" You grimaced. "He seems to think I'm similar to himin some weird way. Which is disturbing on many levels, really."

Aunt May frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"Look, you know how I said I was staying over at a friend's house the other week?" You hesitated at her sharp glare. "I got an invitation to come over for an interview, sort of. I kinda went to California for that." Technically, you hadn't even told her about Vegas - between the disaster that went on there and how it ended, you wanted to keep your name as far from that as possible. "Sorry?"

"California!" she sputtered in return. "Peter! How did you even manage that?!"

"It was all arranged for me, actually..." You winced at her glare. "Yes, yes, I know I should have told you about it," you replied. "I get it. It was kinda shortsighted of me. I just didn't want to get your hopes up about anything, and I wasn't really sure what to make of things myself. I thought I could figure things out afterwards, make a decision. Then, of course, Stark sweetened the pot."

"Stark. Did you say Stark?" Her tone was utterly flat as she said that name. "The same Stark that's been on the news all month, I suspect? The man who builds weapons of mass destruction to blow people up, and smiles about it on camera?" She shook her head sadly, sighing. "Ah, Peter - why on earth would you ever want to be associated with that kind of person?"

"I knew you'd react like that," you murmured, looking away. "It was kinda why I wanted to avoid his name. Stark's got baggage. But his company's opening a new branch here in town - and not for weapons, but for humanitarian things. You've probably already heard his whole clean energy initiative on the news." You shrugged. "I know Stark's not exactly a role model, but he's most definitely a genius in his field, and this was too big an opportunity to just shrug off. He showed me some amazing things!"

"And he bribed you," May added dryly.

Fair point. "There may have been some of that," you agreed reluctantly. "But you can't expect some multi-billionaire bigshot who grew up in wealth to know what a little bit of money means to some people. He's admitted as much, actually. The numbers he offered me - well, it won't be any trouble paying for the renovation, that's for sure..."

May shook her head firmly. "No."

"...No?" You glanced at her. There was a brief, tense silence. "No, I should back down from this job offer? Because if you think I shouldn't, I can still -"

"You misunderstand." Aunt May closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair. "I can't stop you from making your own decisions and mistakes, Peter. You're reaching an age where you have to make those sorts of decisions yourself. But I don't want you to think you have an obligation to spend your money here, on this place. Your life is yours to live. Whatever money that madman Stark wants to give you - use it. Maybe save up for college, like you wanted." She smiled thinly. "I'd very much enjoy seeing you graduate, you know."

"I kinda think that's included in the package," you muttered with a slight grin. "Stark is - pretty thorough with stuff like that. And kind of crazy. He wants to put me in charge of ten people, you know. Ten! I can barely get my voice heard by the pizza guy, how the hell am I gonna do that?"

"Wait - ten people?" Aunt May stared for a long moment. "This isn't something to do with photography at all, is it? What's this about, exactly?"

"Actually, it's pretty vague what I'll be doing," you said slowly. "I suppose I'll find out soon. But I'm in for at least six months, so even if I suck, I'll still have a roof over my head." You smiled. "I showed Stark some of my gadgets - stuff I invented over the years. Knick-knacks, really. Apparently they reminded him of the stuff he used to make. Stark seems to be equal parts obsessively focused on the future and stuck in the past. He's an odd sort of person."

"Lunatics do tend to be odd," May concluded wryly. "Still, if you want to see what this corporate mess is about, and all its warts, I won't stop you. At least you won't have to clamber across town to make those death-defying pictures of yours anymore, so that's a weight off my chest."

"Yeah." You had the urge to cross your fingers behind your back. "Not too much danger of that in a laboratory, I'm sure." You fidgeted briefly. "Actually, I kinda was wondering about something, since you're not totally freaking out about this. The opening is supposed to be tonight - and I have no clue what to wear to something like this. Stark told me to 'suit up', but…"

Aunt May nodded. "It figures that such a man would assume everyone has spare Armani lying around the house." She smiled slightly. "Hold on - let me get something from the attic. I'm pretty sure it'll fit you."

"The attic?" you asked, blinking. You were sort of relieved you'd long since moved your costumes out of there. "We have a suit up there?"

"Your Uncle does," May answered softly as she passed you by, tapping you on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll wear it well, and make him proud."

"...I hope so."

Interlude - ?

"Do you have a visual on the vehicle?"

You sighed, rubbing the sweat off your brow as you peered out the window, the glare of the sun's reflection only partly mitigated by the layer of dirt that seemed to be present on near enough every window in the street. This wasn't the nicest of neighbourhoods. "Nothing yet, but there's a few minutes of leeway depending on traffic. 'Sides, who cares if it takes a few minutes?"

"We lost the remote tracking signal almost immediately after placement - it's likely that the car has been equipped with advanced means of blocking electronic signals. Still, visual tracking has sufficed so far."

"How am I -" You bit back something nasty and decidedly sarcastic when the car rolled into view on the far side of your visual field. The shiny black limousine stood out greatly in the graffiti-laden backstreets, where everything seemed to be made of harsh edges and rust. The car lured a few incredulous whistles from directly below you, and you grumbled under your breath. "Never mind, vehicle confirmed."

"Good. Just observe, for now. We lost sight a few times - it's possibly this is a decoy. Unlikely, but possible."

You merely grunted, and quickly put in the earphone that you'd left on the table, hooked up to an amplifier that you'd set up on the windowsill next to the rest of the equipment. Anyone shouting at you would shut it up due to the volume, but it was really good at soft sounds. Eavesdropping had never been more high-tech. In your price-range.

"- should be the place,"a hollow, tinny voice spoke, muffled by the fact that the speaker was still mostly inside the fancy car. "You can wait for me here, I'm sure." The man set another step out of the car, and then came into full view - there was no mistaking that face, that smile which had been pasted across almost every paper in America. Tony Stark, billionaire arms dealer, professional innovator, and target.

"Target spotted," you muttered under your breath. "Orders?"

As you waited, you didn't quite catch the driver's response, but Stark chuckled, gesturing behind him to the ramshackle square buildings that lined the side of the road, each uglier than the next. "Someone has to guard the car in a rough neighbourhood, I should think. Don't worry, I've faced worse odds than a kid and his aunt."

"Wait until contact has been made."

Stark turned slightly as he slammed the door, and for the briefest moment he tensed as he glanced down the street, a grimace flashing across his face, though you might have been imagining it. Without another word, he turned to the door, and knocked sharply.

"Advise?" you hissed. "I need to know, damn it!"

"Follow your orders. I make the decisions - you just do the job."

You swallowed nervously at the annoyed tone in the boss's voice. It wasn't the first time that you'd heard it in recent days, and that had never been a good sign. Two colleagues had mysteriously disappeared mere days after they had inconvenienced their employer.

The door across the street opened slightly, and you could vaguely see a middle-aged woman looking through the gap, her expression one of evident distaste.

That wasn't surprising, really - after his short-lived kidnapping, Stark had briefly made the news, and the various channels were quick to chow down. Within a few weeks, the story about the rescued billionaire had turned into that of a reclusive arms merchant that had bit his own bullets, and it had not let off much. The bad press wasn't a coincidence, you were sure. The boss was probably involved - or maybe his boss, the elusive client who paid for the whole gig. You didn't know the guys name, and didn't care to. You just knew he was a jealous sonofabitch with a lot of money.

"He's talking at the door now," you said calmly. "I'm pretty sure she wants to hit him."

"Any sign of the Parker kid?"

"None yet. Probably inside, though." You peered down at the unconcerned Stark who leaned back with his hands in his pockets. "I'll keep watching."

Stark crossed his arms. "Ah, c'mon, I hired him - how can I not offer him a ride? Isn't that, like, common courtesy?" he wondered petulantly. "I figured that he'd like a nice entrance on his first day. Right, Peter? Didn't that come across in our little talks?" He fished into his pockets for his phone and fiddled with it for a moment. "Look, you even got an email about it!"

You heard some muttering, but your amplifier could only do so much with anyone who was firmly ensconced behind a solid wooden door.

"I'm sure Jarvis can fake the timestamps, so good luck in court, kid," Stark noted. "Nice street, by the way - not what I'd pick, but it's got a certain charm. I guess I already have a place across town, though. Most of the top floor's already done, so I want to move in as soon as possible. How abouts we get over there in about five-ish minutes?"

You sighed. "He's just doing his boring bantering crap," you complained. "The kid's inside, I'm pretty sure, but he's not showing himself. And you never told me he would be a target."

"Target of opportunity," the boss noted. "Reports indicate he was hired by Stark - it's possible that he has access to some old files. Possible loose end."

"Well, tell me if he's important enough to delay," you muttered.

"You are a very rude man!" the aunt proclaimed from the door, and you couldn't help a grin at Stark's put-out expression. "You had better make sure that Peter isn't sullied by that potty mouth," she added with a frown as she glanced behind her. "He's gone to put on his fancy clothes, now, without me! I see that you've already done more than enough!"

"I'm burning daylight here," you said dryly. "This is irrelevant shit. What do I do? The longer we wait, the bigger the risk."

"Fine - go for it. Ignore the secondary target. You have a go for primary."

"Go for primary," you repeated, and smiled. The weight of the rifle was comforting as you moved for the trigger. You only had to adjust the aim by the tiniest fraction because of the relatively short range, and there was no wind to speak of. For sport, you decided to aim for the back of his head - perhaps you could make it a nice splatter, for effect. You took a breath, and -

- he was on you in an instant, ruining your aim before you could even manage to get the shot off, and everything was fists and pain. The rifle was ripped out of your hands violently, tearing into your fingers as they were caught in the mechanism, and you felt the blood trickling down from a handful of shallow gashes.

It all happened so fast that all you saw was a flash of red. You weren't sure what happened next, except that your headhurt as blood suddenly rushed to it. You let out a howl of pain, but it only lasted until your mouth was blocked by something gross and sticky. Webbing.

Ah, fuck.

"Tsk, tsk," a new arrival said from directly besides you, crouching on the roof of the abandoned apartment besides your suspended body. Covered in red-and-blue with large white splashes of white for eyes, Spider-Man cocked his head to the side curiously. "Did your parents never tell you not to play with guns? You might hurt someone with those things, you know!"

You couldn't curse at him - just glare. It figured that he would show up - Spider-Man had been a menace for a good while now, butting into everyone's business as if he owned the city. He would swing into meetings with heavily armed crime-bosses without even the slightest hesitation. Ever since the crazy Lizard incident, there hadn't been a week that went by without some big, dramatic fight with the nimble idiot.

Spider-Man brought a hand to his face, pretending to ponder something. "Now, let's see here…" he noted. "Guy with a sniper-rifle, in New York City, who has an interest in killing Tony Stark - and who is clearly working for someone else." Spider-Man shook his head as he checked the little headset that had gone tumbling as you fell - there would only be static, you were sure. "Let me make a wild guess. You were talking to Bullseye?"

Shit.

"So it was Bullseye," the costumed teen confirmed darkly. "I'd figured he'd try something on home turf, but I didn't expect a proxy hit. He's usually too proud for that sort of thing, unless it's the only way he's getting paid - which means Bullseye is just another rung in this little conspiracy."

You tried to say something that would make a sailor blanch, but the mumble didn't make it past the webbing across your mouth. Spider-Man just shrugged at your struggles.

"Yeah, you can tell it to the cops," he said dryly. "I suggest you get a good lawyer. There's a few in Hell's Kitchen, I'll give 'em a call." He stretched slowly, sighing. "Well, this was fun, but I'll leave the rest to the guys with sirens - they'll be here any moment. You'll stick around, won't you?"

The wall-crawler was gone before you could groan in annoyance.

You were so dead.

How had Wilson ever talked you into this job?

Interlude - Tony Stark & Press

As first days on the job went, saving the life of the boss by heroically tackling an armed gunman was probably among the more impressive ones, you had to admit that much. Effortlessly slipping back into the image of a nervous teenager afterwards, though? That was just amazing.

You'd never been a slouch at acting yourself - one needed some degree of theater to be the face of a company - but Peter had it down perfectly, at an age when most would barely think where they put their feet. It was no real wonder, you supposed, that someone with a year or two of experience at the secret identity shtick would get good at it through sheer repetition, but it was still a shock.

"Nothing for me, thank you," you murmured distractedly to the boy's aunt - May Parker - as she finally relented and let you into the house proper. Your mind was still on the man across the street, the glint of metal that Jarvis had spotted in the window, if only because he had been keeping an eye out. You'd been suspicious from the moment the AI had discovered a tracking bug on the car, but you'd never expected an actual hit. What had you done to get this much flak?

It was, you though, a blessing that you'd befriended an actual superhero. Because, you had realized distantly as you waited on the doorstep, you were only wearing a simple bulletproof vest - one that had seen better days, and would not stop a rifle bullet even slightly. The real one, all ceramics and awesome, was still in Peter's hands until you got the manufacturing plant set up again.

"...So, who was it?" you asked softly as Peter descended the stairs, wearing a rather neat suit that you vaguely recognized as a decade or two old. Nothing modern, but it would do. May had departed further into the house to make a drink, and you were glad to have her away for a moment. "Also, you look spiffy. I had some spare suits lying around if you needed them, but this works."

"You were almost shot," Peter said mildly, shaking his head. "Does anything faze you at all?"

"Eh. You swing through the air by hair-thin wires and throw yourself into firefights with like twenty angry assholes," you responded. "If you recall, I didn't run screaming form that, either. Indeed, I probably wouldn't freak out about anything short of cannibal space aliens with naughty tentacles." You shrugged. "And that still depends on their intentions. I've seen enough anime to know the possibilities."

"You're disgusting," Peter said flatly. "It was Bullseye - or one of his men, anyway. I sent a quick mail to someone I know who's familiar with the creep, so perhaps I'll have a bit more for you to work from soon. I didn't get the impression the guy was a professional at this. Probably a hired gun who got to try something new for a change."

"Well, sniping someone from across the street doesn't really require an ace," you agreed dryly. You paused then, wincing. "Um, Peter? About this whole thing - could you keep it on the down-low? Don't tell Pepper. Because she'd freak, and I seriously don't need that on the day of the opening. Especially given the deal with your secret identity…"

"Yeah. We'll discuss it later," Peter said, and he looked at you knowingly, not commenting any further as he finally walked the same as his aunt had, into the living room. You were momentarily wondering if you should bring up the possibility of more shooters, but you were pretty sure Peter's freaky danger-sense would have picked up on that. Hopefully.

It was rather a mess inside the living room, but old clothing and a pile of grocery bags were quickly thrown aside to make a little more space. The television was a model that wouldn't have looked out of place in the nineties, and it was broadcasting some nature documentary in low definition. You could just barely make out the soothing tones of Attenborough's voice.

"This is pretty cozy, actually," you commented idly as you studied the Parker home curiously. It wasn't anything particularly special, and it had certainly seen better days, but it still had a certain charm. It looked very lived in, unlike so many sterile labs and hallways in your old place. Maybe it was because of the pictures of Peter and his aunt and uncle on the wall, since you certainly couldn't recall such memorabilia from your youth, and you saw enough of yourself in the papers to hang a mirror in your office. "It's very... homy."

"That's because it is a home," Aunt May said matter-of-factly as she entered, putting a cup of coffee in front of herself as she handed Peter a can of soft-drink. "I'm sure that you have many of those, Mr. Stark."

You shrugged. "Houses? Yeah, I've got dozens of those. I haven't lived in any of them, and the last one burned to the ground. So - right now I'm kinda homeless. If you wanna get technical." You looked up with a smile, though it was a little strained. "I'll get around to fixing that soon, though. Maybe Peter can help me move in the furniture. Seems like his kind of thing."

The incognito superhero looked mildly outraged, but didn't comment.

"Mrs. May -" you said carefully as her gaze remained stony. "I'm not sure what I did to offend you, exactly…" You shrugged. "I do so many outrageous things, it could be anything really. So - I'm sorry? I can bring flowers in recompense? Sing you a serenade with my horrible, horrible singing voice?"

She looked away, frowning slightly. "How did you stumble across Peter, Mr. Stark?" She waved vaguely to the television. "According to half the channels we get, you're a danger to yourself and others, and some of the interviews I've been seeing…"

You glanced to Peter, who avoided your gaze. It figured that the boy hadn't told his aunt what really happened in Vegas - especially his own involvement. The news coverage had been limited due to S.H.I.E.L.D. swooping in, and him risking his life would probably just come across as reckless self-endangerment if one didn't know about the superpowers. Which, you were pretty sure, she was oblivious about. That meant the news was just endlessly recycling the few voices who were all too happy to speak up - your critics. You meant to do something about that, but not right now.

"Truth is, your nephew came to my attention at a gig he was covering for his paper," you spun. "I get that I've had some bad press, lately - between the kidnapping and my changes to the status quo of the company, people are scaremongering about my intentions. Tonight I intend to rectify a few of the more outrageous rumors."

You nodded to Peter. "Your boy here is rather clever, as I'm sure you know - so I thought that since I'm moving to New York anyway, it might be nice to have someone to teach a few things." A white lie, but whatever. "You must know, beyond the whole CEO thing, I'm still an engineer at heart… I've been looking for an assistant for a while now. Sort of."

Peter cringed a little, and you weren't sure if that reaction was fake or not. Did the boy actually feel embarrassed about his nifty inventions, or was it an act? Spider-Man had certainly not shown any hesitance or embarrassment about anything, so that might be the real Peter. Man is least himself when he talks in his own person, as Oscar Wilde put it. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.

"I do dabble with building things," Peter admitted after a while, glancing aside. "Just a hobby, though."

"People tend not to complain when they can turn their hobby into a paid job," you said easily. "And I'm pretty sure you told me that photography was your occupation more out of happenstance than because you love cameras…"

"There must be more to this," May observed with narrowed eyes. "I recognize your type, Stark. Smarmy, full of yourself, head so far in the clouds that you forget to watch who you step on as you walk around. I've known a few like that, and it didn't end well for them. Teaching Peter things is all well and good - but one can teach the wrong things, too."

You stared at her for a long moment, nodding slowly. "I can't claim to be without faults. I can't even claim neutrality here, given the kinds of things I've made happen in the past. But I think you're looking at the wrong person, now. It's not about what I'd teach Peter - but if you trust him enough to distinguish the good from the bad. Whatever that may be."

She remained silent, looking to her nephew with an expression that you'd sometimes wished your father could have shown you, just once. Finally, she nodded. "I've already told you that you're old enough to make your own choices," she said to the boy. "You've earned that." Her glance in your direction contained no warmth, but you hardly needed that.

"I appreciate that, Aunt May," Peter murmured warmly in response, a smile curling around his mouth. "I suppose I had been getting a bit stuck in my job - taking pictures of Spider-Man gets old after a while, and Jonah scarcely wanted me to do anything else. It was time for a change."

"When the student is ready, the master appears," you quoted sagely, and the annoyed expressions of both the Parkers were entertaining to watch. "Too pretentious, huh?"

"By half," Peter agreed dryly.

You rolled your eyes at him. "I've heard that before. Welcome to the company, kid - you'll fit right in."

XXX

Business : Tony Stark announces brand new civilian venture in NYC
By: Eddie Brock, Daily Globe

Seven weeks after his last public appearance to the press, Anthony 'Tony' Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, has come forward to announce the launch of a new personal venture, 'Stark Transcendent', divorced almost entirely from his existing empire. In a surprise press conference announced only hours earlier, Stark laid out his plan for a practical think tank with an emphasis on solving humanitarian and technological challenges. He mentioned his personal brush with death as his primary motivation for starting something new, but ensures shareholders that the main company will not be affected in the short-term by the new development.

Gathered together in an unadorned room to the side of the main Stark Transcendent complex, the former Horizon Labs, Stark adressed the press. "You all know that I've never been scared to talk to you," he noted. "These recent months have been difficult, and I can't argue that the events in Afghanistan [REF: Kidnapping Details] have had an effect on me. But more than anything, they've galvanized my existing urge to tackle broader problems than new military equipment, and that is what Stark Transcendent is intended to channel. I have hired numerous experts from various fields, including a noted biochemist, several highly capable engineers, and a small army of researchers capable of handling the proprietary Stark technologies that will permit truly unprecedented efficiency. Before this year is out, I intend to have changed the world."

In an unusual move, Stark immediately showed off several prospective designs that he has lined up for further ST development, including a model of a large power station that boasts zero carbon emissions, hearkening back to rumours of green energy tests at Stark Industries. Stark also announced a professional partnership with several private spaceflight enterprises, though he declined to delve into specifics on his reasons, or name names. Conspicuously absent from the conversation was national space organization NASA, or any other government contract. It is presumed, at least for the moment, that ST intends to remain fully civilian in scope.

Critics of the new venture include Norman Osborn, CEO of Oscorp, a New York-based corporation that shares similar stated goals to Stark's propositions. He mentioned the possible of brand pollution, or 'too much of a good thing,' and has pointed at Stark's history of weapons manufacture as reasons of concern. Representatives of Roxxon, an energy-company, have also noted unease with Stark's boastful announcements of free energy, worrying that such 'snake oil' and supposed wishful thinking would muddle the development of real, functional improvements in energy generation. They noted that the last energy-generation projects from Stark Industries are decades old, and abandoned, leaving the younger heir with little to stand on.

After refusing further questions, Stark agreed to meet with several interviewers in private at a later date to discuss more specific details of ongoing and newly founded projects. The Daily Globe was among those invited, and will bring you updates as they become available.

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