"So, what's the challenge today?" Peter looked at his best friend, Flash Thompson who was perched over the computer in his room. Peter's room was a jumbled mess of spare computer parts and clothes, which were strung everywhere. He knew it wouldn't be long before Aunt May would be demanding that he clean his room. It would wreck his system. It might not have been obvious to the casual observer, but he did have a system.
"It's a hacking challenge. You choose one for me, I choose one for you," Flash said with glee, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. His mouth was practically watering with the thrill of the chase.
Peter nudged Flash out of the way and typed a command into the computer. "Can you hack? I thought you were more into investigative journalism. You know, that Eddie Brock kind of stuff. Ok. You get SHIELD. Try to get my file."
"I am, but how am I going to know how much you've taught me if I don't try. And you'll hack into Stark Industrial," Flash decided quickly. "Same deal. The loser has to buy the next Lego set. I want you to put your name down for the September Foundation Grant."
"Flash, that's for college aged kids" Peter protested. Flash fixed him with a stare, and he shrugged. "I guess the least they can do is say no, right? And I have Pep to help me navigate when I'm in."
Peter had made his own AI and modeled it after Pepper Potts. He attended enough Stark expos to be able to get a good recording of her voice and a scan of her body measurements using his modified phone. He fully intended to make a holographic image when he had the money for better equipment. For now, he was satisfied with just her voice, which he found incredibly soothing and comfortable somehow.
"You and your AI. You know you're amazingly awesome, right?" Flash had a touch of hero worship in his voice, which never ceased to astonish Peter, considering their history.
"Right," Peter said a bit sarcastically. He knew he was a pathetic loser, but it was nice that at least one person didn't think so.
Within two weeks, Peter had managed to burrow his way into the mainframe of SI. He grinned in satisfaction as he deposited his application and left the way he came in. It was seriously tempting to stay and browse a bit, but he encountered something that made him gulp.
"Hello, my name is Friday. May I ask who you are, and what you are doing with Tony's computer programming?
The voice emanated from Peter's speakers. How was that possible?
"Just leaving," he gulped into his microphone nervously. He abruptly terminated the contact, determined to keep his privacy intact. After all, he didn't bother Tony's privacy. He didn't want Tony to delve into his.
As he was working in his lab, Tony heard the exchange. "What was that, Fri?"
"Somebody hacked into the mainframe and left an application for the September Foundation grant. They got out before I could get a fix on them," Friday pouted.
Tony laughed. "Well, let Pepper know. She's going through the list as we speak. I want her to scare the tar out of this person."
"That was another AI," Peter said once he got his heartbeat and breathing under control.
"It must have been Friday," Pep mused. "She's e Tony Stark's new personal AI. I would have liked to interacted with her."
"Not now," Peter insisted. "It's too early to do that."
Just then, May called out from the kitchen. "Peter, please come in here. I have some news for you."
Peter and Flash scrambled to the kitchen, eager to hear the news. They could hear the excitement in her voice
"You know that I've been looking for a job that will allow me to spend more time with you, right? I've found it and they accepted me," she said, almost squealing, eyes sparkling.
Peter was excited. This was great news. "Where is it?"
"Medbay at Stark Tower," she said in a rush, opening her arms for a hug. Both boys came in to hug her and she squeezed them both closely to her. She loved both boys like they were her own.
"Oh, wow! May, that's awesome!" Peter glowed with pride in his aunt. He was pleased that someone saw the qualities in her that he did. She was a wonderful person, a jewel, in his opinion.
It took a full six months, however, before Peter got an email that knocked his socks off. It was from Miss Pepper Potts, establishing an interview time and asking him to bring some of his work. He called Flash, practically tripping over his words in his excitement.
"Dude, slow down! I can't understand a thing you're saying," Flash laughed.
" . . . . . . . .
.Out." Peter said with exaggerated slowness. "I guess he washed out in front of Tony."
"Are you going to tell May?" Flash asked, thrilled for his friend. Occasionally he got embarrassed about the rude way he used to treat Peter. He'd been a Grade A douche.
"Not until after my interview, I'm going to wait for her to get off and surprise her at the tower," Peter said breathlessly. "Help me with my presentation."
Peter and Flash went over all possible scenarios and questions until they decided that he was ready.
May left for work the next day and Peter hung around the apartment, picking and choosing which of his projects he would take with him. At ten in the morning, his enhanced sense of smell picked up on the scent of smoke. His spider-sense activated, and he quickly pulled on his suit and mask. He crept out into the hall, head swiveling to the left and right. Every smoke detector in the building activated simultaneously, assaulting his delicate hearing. He heard the fire engines coming from six blocks away and grimaced. The building was old and not up to code, and he knew it would go up fast. He began running from apartment to apartment, knocking on doors and yelling, "Fire! Fire! You've got to get out! It's Spider-Man, call out!"
The residents rushed out for the most part, some carrying pets, some carrying children.
He got to the last one and found Mrs. Collins, an elderly woman with senile dementia, sitting in her bedroom, blankly staring at the flames that were licking at her ceiling. He didn't stop. He cradled her in his arms like a child and crawled out the window. He used his webbing to create a sling and strapped her to his chest, then crawled down the face of the building and handed her off to the firefighters.
"Mr. Gibbs is still in there," she wavered, tears in her voice. "My kitty cat. I don't want him to burn up."
"It's ok, ma'am, I'll get him," Peter offered.
"No! Come back here, young man," one of the firefighters yelled, but Peter was already gone.
Mr. Gibbs had escaped the house and was on the roof, yowling at the top of his lungs. As soon as he saw Peter, he launched himself forward and attached himself to his head.
"Cat, that really hurts," Peter griped. "Look, I've got a cat hat." The cat sunk his claws deeply in sheer terror. Peter climbed down as fast as he could and presented the cat to the old lady. The look of sheer joy on her face made it all worthwhile.
"Bless you, young man," she sniffled, burying her face in the cat's white fur.
Peter returned to his apartment and grabbed his projects and clothes. He couldn't show up in a scorched spider-man costume. He swung to the closest subway entrance, found an empty alleyway to change in and got on the subway, mindful of the burns on his wrists.
I could have sworn that the smoke smelled like a pumpkin bomb, Peter thought to himself. I hope Gobby isn't gunning for me again. My clothes kind of smell like bomb smoke, come to think about it. May's gonna freak. I'm lucky I got everyone out alive. Maybe I'm just being paranoid.
He arrived at his appointment twenty minutes late, unfortunately for him. Unimpressed, Pepper instructed her aide to make him wait. The aide, a snotty, entitled young man full of himself, conveniently 'forgot' Peter.
Peter brought out his laptop and started working on his idea for clean water using arc reactor technology combined with a device of his making. That would make the time fly by and distract him from the pain in his wrist. He used his considerable strength to crush his melted web shooters and stuff them into his backpack; they were ruined and served no purpose. He needed to make another pair.
"You stink," a little voice said from the general vicinity of his knees. He looked over his laptop at a young girl with long, dark hair and big, brown eyes. "You smell like really stinky smoke."
Peter laughed despite his pain. "That's because my apartment building caught on fire, and I had to help rescue one of my neighbors. She's really really old and has dementia."
"What happened to your head?" The little girl pointed to the deep gouges still weeping blood. One had trickled just past his left eye.
"A cat got scared and scratched me," Peter said sourly, wiping at the seeping blood as best as he could. Morgan narrowed her eyes, sizing him up, then ran down the hall to her mother's office. She slipped inside and stood quietly until Pepper noticed her.
"Sweetie, what's wrong?" she asked with concern, coming around the desk.
"There's a boy in the waiting room that is bleeding from cat scratches on his head," Morgan said matter-of-factly. "He said his apartment building caught on fire."
Pepper sucked in a breath with chagrin. Her aide hadn't told her about the fire. She strode out past his desk and told him without looking, and said "You're fired."
Her first impression of Peter caught her off guard. He had his laptop out and work scattered across the coffee table in front of him. A lot of it was virtual, but some of it was hard copy pen and paper. He had his head down and alternated between swiping and discarding, then scribbling notes in a journal. He looked up as she approached, and she groaned internally. His face was dirty, smoke-stained and blood streaked. He reminded her of Tony after some of his worst battles.
"Ms. Potts, it's nice to finally meet you," Peter said, smiling as he stood up and extended his hand. "I'm Peter Parker."
"Peter, the pleasure is all mine," Pepper said quietly as she shepherded him down the hall and into her office. She refrained from shaking his hand because it was so dirty and
blood-stained. Peter had grabbed his backpack and cautiously slung it over his shoulder.
"It's some of my projects," he explained sheepishly as he sat down. "I felt kind of stupid carrying a cardboard box on the subway."
Pepper realized that her original idea of scaring Peter had just flown out the window, especially after she got a good whiff of his clothing. And he smelled suspiciously of burnt flesh on top of it all. "Tell me about yourself, Peter. Why did you apply for this internship?"
"School is getting so boring," Peter confessed. "It's too easy. I need a challenge. I can do my homework before I get home, which is why I have so many pet projects. Besides, I've nothing to do until summer term starts."
He stopped and handed her plans for clean water technology that used Tony's Arc reactor and a device of his own making.
"This can be as large or as small as needed," Peter explained. "It could power water plants or purify wells in third world countries, which is why I developed it in the first place. Then I realized the potential applications."
"Impressive," Pepper said, nodding her head. "What else do you have in there?"
Peter got an incredibly mischievous glint in his eyes. "Mr. Skittle head. I won an Iron Man mask and helmet in a science fair a few years ago and put it to use. Good or bad is up to your judgement."
The Ironman mask arose gracefully from his book bag, pivoted to and fro and sailed around the perimeter of the office walls. Pepper watched with bemusement as it eventually made its way to her trash can and dumped a load of wet skittles into the receptacle. "It also spits them out."
Pepper couldn't help but laugh. They sat and talked for an hour until she noticed that he was fidgeting in his chair.
"Peter, are you ok? I smell burned flesh," she said in no nonsense terms.
"How do you get melted spandex off skin?" Peter asked out of the blue. "This hurts like a mother…"
"Language," Morgan said sternly from her seat on the couch. "Not in front of the k.i.d."
Peter hung his head and blushed to his roots. "Ah, ma'am, Morgan, I'm so, so, sorry."
"Let me see your burns," Pepper said firmly, hand extended. Peter held out his thin, delicate wrist and she pushed up his sleeve. She gasped when she saw his skin covered by a black, gooey film, which was melted Spandex.
"Yeah," he said through gritted teeth. "Spandex is great until it gets hot. My shirt had a lot of spandex in it."