Bagging up the supplies for Professor Foster, Peter and Riri debated where to get lunch. The boy wanted a cheeseburger, while the girl had her heart set on a healthier kind of takeout. They were about to exit the store, when Peter heard a groan of frustration.

"Oh come on!!" They turned to see someone angrily addressing an automated cashier. "Every freakin' time, you stupid-!" The person looked to be about Peter's age, maybe a couple years older, and wore a purple hoodie under a green coat. He smacked the offending machine before Peter walked over.

"Having trouble?" He asked.

The stranger groaned, "It's this damn thing. Every time I get to the end, it makes me start over. I know my card is good, so I don't know what the hell's wrong here!"

"Yeah, these things can be pretty finicky," Peter sympathized.

"I swear, if I had a strength quirk, I'd probably bust this piece of junk!" The stranger said bitterly.

"Pretty sure that'd get you arrested," Riri said. "Besides, strength's not what you need here. It's finesse." The stranger raised an eyebrow as the girl stepped forward. "May I?" She asked.

The young man shrugged, "Feel free."

Riri inspected the machine, "Ok, here's the problem. Someone's jammed the screen, probably pushed the buttons too hard so it keeps resetting. Easy enough to fix. Pete, you got a screwdriver on you?"

Peter took out his Uncle Ben's Swiss Army knife and popped out the screwdriver head. "That'll work," Riri said. Taking the tool, she began to fiddle with the back of the monitor.

"Hey! What're you doing over there?" Called a voice. A larger man, presumably a floor manager made his way over.

"Your monitor's screen's broken, I'm fixing it," replied a nonchalant Riri, briefly popping her head up before getting back to work.

"You're a kid," said the man incredulously. "What the hell do you know-"

"Let her work," said a voice. The manager turned to see the desk clerk who'd previously given the duo their instructor's order. "They're a couple of Bill's students, she knows what she's doing."

"Bill Foster?" The manager blinked, "They're M.A students?"

The stranger looked over at Riri, "Wait, you go to Marvel Academy? Are you in the Heroes Course?" He eyed the teens curiously.

"The Support Course" clarified Riri, screwing the back of the monitor back in place. "Done!"

"Guess that's your cue to try it now," Peter nodded to the stranger.

He tried operating the buttons again, this time with success. "Oh thank God," he said. "I thought I was gonna be here forever!"

"How'd you do that?" Asked the manager, looking on with a mix of confusion and irritation on his face.

"I'm good with tech," Riri said, giving the tool back to Peter.

The manager walked off, shaking his head, "You M.A kids..."

"Well, thanks for helping," said the grateful stranger.

"Hey, it's no problem," replied Peter. "You don't have to be a hero to put some good out in the world." The boy offered his hand, "I'm Peter, by the way. The techie here's Riri. And you are?"

At first, the young man looked carefully at Peter, as if evaluating for a potential threat. But after sensing no ill will, he extended his own hand to shake. "Harry," he said. "Nice to meet you."

"Same here," said Peter. He felt a familiar tingle run up his spine, it vanished when he released the hand. Peter handed over the bags, noting some wires and a smoke detector poked out the top. "Doing a little fire proofing?" He asked.

"Something like that," Harry replied. "I run a small business. There's always something to fix, or stock to replenish. And the new staff is useless..."

"I know the feeling," Riri put in. "If you want something done right, you've gotta do it yourself." She looked over at Peter, "We good here? I wanna grab lunch and head back."

Peter nodded, "Go ahead, I'll meet you at the lab."

Harry watched as Riri walked towards an Açaí vendor. "I do something to piss her off?" He asked, turning to the boy.

"Don't take it personally, Riri's not exactly a social butterfly," Peter reassured. "The only place she really lights up is in the lab. I swear if they let her install a cot, she'd probably never leave..."

He looked around, seeing a 5 Guys Cheeseburger stand. "I'm gonna grab some food myself. You hungry?" Peter asked.

Harry shrugged, "I could eat."

Moments later, the duo carried brown bags and milkshakes over to a table within the food court. "So what kind of business do you run?" Asked Peter, sitting down.

"Just a bar, nothing all that fancy," replied Harry, sitting opposite. "I'm taking it over for the old boss, but I'm supposed to 'prove myself' by not letting it run into the ground before he hands over the keys..."

"Sounds like a rough gig," Peter commented. "But I guess that's the point of legacies. We wanna live up to them, but we're put through hell to make sure we're up to the task. Personally, I think the old guard just likes to watch us new kids suffer a bit."

"Can't argue with that," Harry nodded in agreement, taking a bite of his cheeseburger. "So, whose footsteps are you trying to follow in?"

"Honestly, there's a few people," admitted Peter. "But honestly, it's my Uncle. He practically raised me with my Aunt, and after he... passed, it hit really hard. Now I just wanna try and live my life in a way he'd approve of."

"Makes sense," Harry said. "Sounds he was a good guy. My old man, he didn't have a decent bone in his body, and everyone knew it."

Peter chuckled, "What, was he a supervillain or something?" Harry's face darkened and he looked away almost in shame. "I swear I was kidding!" The boy reassured, waving his hands. "A-And I'm not judging! Anything he did has nothing to do with you."

"That's where you're wrong," replied Harry, a bitter tone in his voice. "The things he did, all the damage he caused... It's unforgivable. And every time someone looked at me, they only thought about him. I spent years living in Europe, trying to get away from his legacy, and I only came back when I felt sure I could build something of my own."

Peter stared at his lunch for a moment, unsure how to properly respond. "I'm... sorry you had to go through that," he finally said. "I won't ask you any more about it."

Harry said nothing for a moment, before finally giving a nod, "I appreciate it." He went to take another bite from his cheeseburger, but froze. His attention fixed on something behind Peter.

The boy turned around in his seat to look. In a window within a gaming store, one of the TVs had a news channel on. The anchors were apparently in deep discussion. As for the subject, the skull emblem in their background said it all.

"God, it doesn't matter where I go, everyone's still talking about that guy," Harry muttered. "I don't get it."

Peter turned back, "You don't get what?"

"All this attention they keep giving the Punisher," Harry gestured towards the TV. "There's guys like the League of Villains, who went after your school and sent giant robots to attack the city. But somehow, everyone's obsessed with the so-called 'Hero Killer.' One guy, who wound up getting caught!"

"This feels kinda personal..." Peter noted.

"Well, the looting a few weeks ago was close to my neighborhood," Harry explained. "I had no defense if they decided to come and trash my bar. As far as I'm concerned, with their numbers, they're a bigger threat than Punisher ever was!"

He took a sip of his milkshake, looking carefully at the boy, "You go to M.A, what's your perspective?"

Peter looked at him, confused, "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on," Harry insisted. "There must be some class or whatever that talks about villain psychology, even if you're not in the Hero Course."

Peter was about to correct him, but he felt the tingle go up his spine again. There was something off about this guy. So far, Harry seemed pleasant enough. But for his Spider Sense to go off twice around him...

Instead, the boy put his hand to his chin, pondering Harry's question. Having faced both Hobgoblin and Punisher, Peter naturally had a few opinions on the two. Finally, he had an answer, "I think it all comes down to ideology."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Ideology?"

"That's right," Peter replied. "Actually, it's more than that, it's conviction."

"What do you mean?" Asked Harry.

Peter thought for a moment, before looking down at his food and being struck with inspiration. He picked up a burnt french fry from his tray. "What do we know about the League of Villains?" The teen asked.

Harry shrugged noncommittally, "I dunno. I hear their leader is pretty strong, but that's about it..."

"Exactly," said Peter. "We know next to nothing about them. Aside from that night in the city where they ran wild, their only real goal's just been to kill Iron Man, something literally every villain's probably thought of at one point. Simply put, they're nothing new."

The boy then picked up another french fry. It was longer, crispy and golden brown. "As for the Punisher, sure he's just one guy and his ideology is twisted," he went on. "But he had strong convictions and the will to see them through."

Harry watched, entranced in the analogy.

"I'm not saying I agree with his methods," Peter continue. "But I can at least understand what he was going for: a world with better, more accountable heroes, like Iron Man. Punisher didn't seem to be killing for the fun of it, and he wasn't giving up when things went south like the League did at M.A."

Harry's eye twitched slightly, but Peter didn't notice. He brought the two fries together, the longer one clearly looked more appealing than the burned one.

"Even if the way he acted was wrong, Punisher literally stuck to his guns in the end That's why people think he's interesting," Peter dropped the burnt fry on the tray and ate the golden one.

"So, does that clear anything up for you?" He looked back at Harry, who was staring back the boy dumbfounded. "Sorry, I kinda ramble a bit when I'm deep in thought," Peter said sheepishly.

"So what you're saying is, if the League wants to prove itself, it can't just present itself as a force to be reckoned with," Harry reasoned. "It has to have something tangible that people can latch onto. Anyone can have an ideology, but it's having the conviction to back it that makes it last."

Peter shrugged, "More or less, yeah."

Harry's eyes widened, struck with sudden inspiration. He stood up suddenly, grabbing his bags, "I've gotta go, there's something I need to take care of." Harry paused, smiling at Peter, "Nice meeting you, Pete. You've definitely cleared a few things up for me!"

Peter blinked, "Um, sure thing... See you around then?"

"Oh yeah, totally!" Harry replied. "I usually hang out here on weekends. Keep your eyes peeled, maybe we can chill again. Later!!" With that, he took off towards the exit, leaving behind a confused Peter Parker.

Snow began to fall as Harry walked back towards the bar he currently called his home. His mind was racing, going from thoughts of the Punisher, to what Peter said about ideologies and conventions. Finally, they settled on something the boy said; "A world with better, more accountable heroes."

Looking ahead, his face twisted into a dark smile. Conviction, huh? He thought. The problem's not Iron Man's influence, he was just a symptom. The problem was Hero Society as a whole! Well whatever, the Master can reshape the world for all I care. Just so long as he holds up his end and my own plans are fulfilled.

Harry turned a corner into a dark alleyway, pulling a yellow mask out from inside his coat. But Azazel was right about one thing. That Punisher idiot woke something up in the minds of these fools. And if it brings more power towards my organization, I'll go along with it. For now at least...

As he entered the seedy bar, the now masked Hobgoblin took note of several more new arrivals speaking with Vengeance and Jack-o-Lantern. The first was a man in purple and yellow. His face was masked and he had a pronounced mustache.

The second was a woman in a red outfit with matching hair. She carried an old looking hammer with a rounded knuckle guard along the handle.

The third was a muscular blonde man with face paint that called back to Old Glory. And finally, the fourth wore a black outfit that covered all of his features, save for white stripes across his collarbone and circles on his forehead in the visage of a target.

"Ah gut, you've returned," said Azazel, walking over and taking Hobgoblin's bags for him. "We've had several more inquiries in the time you've been out. Shall I introduce you?"

"No need," replied the villain with a grin. "I plan on getting to know each and every one of them personally." Hobgoblin walked over towards the new arrivals, his attitude more jovial than the one he'd had earlier. Unbeknownst to him, however, a hidden camera observed the recruitment meeting, focused on the young leader of the League...

Peter, meanwhile, was making his way back to the Support Lab when he heard a psst! Turning towards the sound, he saw the face of Tony Stark looking through a crack in the door of the teacher's lounge. "Got a sec, kid?" He asked, waving him over.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter hadn't expected to see his idol here of all places, but complied as he walked in. "What're you doing here?"

"I've been dealing with the one thing more painful than my chest wound," the hero gestured towards the table. "Paperwork." Indeed, there were stacks of papers, most of them still ungraded, all over the place.

"Jeez, how'd you get so far behind?" Asked a bewildered Peter.

"Hey, when you're a genius/billionaire/philanthropist/superhero, other things tend to take precedence," Tony replied. "Besides, I've got Dum-E working on them. Should be done before Monday."

Peter looked behind Tony to see a robot on wheels sifting through another pile of papers. It raised its singular metal limb and appeared to be waving at the boy. Peter awkwardly waved back, unsure how the machine was able to see him.

"Anyhoo, I wanted to congratulate you on passing the Midterm Exams," the hero went on. "Sorry about your web shooters though. I couldn't exactly hold back in there."

"It's ok," Peter replied, scratching the back of his neck. "I was planning on upgrading them anyhow."

"Which brings me to my next point of business," said Tony. "Got any plans the week after Christmas?"

Peter shrugged, "Not really. I was gonna spend time with Aunt May, do a little training, maybe tinker with a few things. Why?"

"There's a tech convention coming up that Stark Industries sponsors," replied the hero. "I'm going to be a guest speaker and have full access to everything going on. Naturally, with my condition, I can't really go out and enjoy the thing. So I figured, 'hey, here's a guy who appreciates this kind of stuff. Why not bring him along'?"

Peter's eyes widened, "Wait, do you mean the Yinsen Memorial Technology Conference!?"

Tony blinked, "Heard about it, huh?"

"Yeah! Riri from the Support Course is going there with her own setup!" The boy replied.

"Riri..." Tony thought out loud. "Oh yeah, the girl from Sports Festival, right? She's the one who was able to fix the old parts I donated! I've been wanting to meet her, it just hasn't been easy making time with-" He tapped the Arc Reactor glowing under his t-shirt. "So, you wanna go?"

"Do I?!?" Peter exclaimed excitedly, "Absolutely, Mr. Stark!!! I mean, I'll have to ask Aunt May, but I don't think it'll be a problem!"

Tony smiled his protégé's enthusiasm, "Glad to hear it, kid. This'll be a trip to remember."

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in the fields of California, an elderly man disembarked from his private airplane at a small airport. He put on a grey fedora which covered his slicked back, white hair, and adjusted his coat as several attendants followed him down the steps into the cool night.

"So it's to be here then?" He asked, gazing over the vast countryside.

"Near enough, in just over two weeks, sir," replied one of his men. He was a short, toadish looking man, slightly hunched over with yellowish skin and warts on his forehead. "That should give us plenty of time to infiltrate and prepare."

"Remember, I don't want any lives to be taken," said the old man. "Restrain and subdue the guests however you wish, but I will not have bloodshed on this night."

Another of the man's attendants spoke up. This one was a younger man, a teenager playing with a lighter. "Oh I get it, ya wanna make a good first impression. Not so easy with a room full of dead bodies-"

A blue hand smacked the boy on the back of his head. "Shut your mouth, Pyro!" A woman with blue skin said coldly. "We didn't bring you along to make smart ass remarks to our leader."

"Eh, leave him be, Raven," put in an obese man. "Kid's got a mouth on him, so what? Not like any of us didn't at his age."

Just then, a large hand landed on the man's shoulder. It was covered in a red gauntlet and belonged to an even larger man with bulging muscles. "It's about respect, Blob," he said. "Something you don't seem to know about. And her name's Mystique, we're on the job now."

The old man smiled, "Indeed, Juggernaut. Our objective is simple enough. We need only to follow the plan I've laid out and take no chances when it comes to the heroes..." He stared out over the horizon, "All that matters, is them..."

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Barber's Chair

• When Harry met Peter! (Well there's a title for a slashfic lol) But seriously, our hero and the face of the League finally meet. The difference here, is this is completely by chance. Secret identities are still a thing in this universe, although somewhat going out of fashion. With this in mind, the possibilities for the two to interact are exponential!

• Oh? It looks like we have a new challenger! Yes, the villains for the next arc will be the Brotherhood of Mutants. But what could they possibly want?

(Important Notice)

• I will be taking a brief hiatus from writing to plan out the next few arcs. I hope you'll humor me with a little patience. I like to get ahead with chapters before I start to upload.