Chapter Text
Peter trudged down the sidewalk, slush coating the ground beneath his worn sneakers. His coat zipped up to his chin, and his hood was drawn so tightly around his head that only his eyes and nose were visible. A storm had rolled in overnight, blanketing the city in a thick layer of ice and snow. He glanced at his pinkened fingers, blowing warm breath over them before tucking them into his pockets.
The wind bit at his exposed skin, making him shiver. He had been Spider-Man for about six months, he hadn’t had to deal with the cold weather yet. The makeshift super suit wasn't exactly designed for winter. He probably should have planned ahead, because sweatpants and a ski mask wouldn’t cut it. He’d considered throwing his oversized green coat over his costume, but that would defeat the purpose. Anyone who saw him would immediately know who was underneath the mask. The risk wasn’t worth it. He’d have to come up with a better plan.
But the real problem wasn’t the cold– it was the boredom that came from skipping patrol. Going home wasn’t much of an option either. Aunt May worked tirelessly, juggling jobs and side gigs. The only thing that would be waiting from in their little apartment would be a few sticky notes. “Finish your homework” and “Make sure to eat some fruit with dinner.” She meant well, but he didn’t need a bunch of sticky notes trying to play the role of parent. He sniffed, wiping his nose as the chill made it run. There had to be something better to do. A warm place to go. Maybe the library. They had a Playstation in the teen section, and shelves of science fiction novels that could keep him busy for months. It seemed like a solid plan– something to fill the time until he had to go back home to eat.
A fluttering advertisement caught his attention as it blew into his face. Reflexively, he snatched it before it drifted away. As he prepared to toss it, he noticed that the snow had smudged some of the ink. The first ‘r’ in Stark Industries had bled, leaving it reading ‘Stank Industries’ instead. Peter laughed, a puff of steam rising into the freezing air.
An idea sparked. The library had plenty of computers, all constantly in use, people logging in and out all day. He wondered how long it would take to hack into Stark Industries’ website. Not to steal anything, of course, but the ad had cracked him up so much. He couldn’t just let it go without sharing the joke. He imagined the homepage with every instance of ‘Stark’ replaced by ‘Stank.’ If he worked fast enough, he could even add a few extra graphics– maybe add a red nose and reindeer antlers to the image of the tower. That would be hilarious.
Grinning, he turned the corner toward the Queens Library, Flushing Branch.
The moment he arrived, he settled into the computer at the farthest corner of the room, fingers hovering eagerly over the keyboard. His heart raced, but he kept his expression calm. The Stark Industries website was locked down tight, but that didn’t faze him. He’d hacked into his high school’s attendenc records; a corporate server couldn’t be any more difficult than that.
He pulled up a terminal window, fingers dancing across the keys as he set up a basic script to scan for vulnerabilities. The Stark website was pinged and probed for any weaknesses. It took a few seconds for the result to flash on the screen: secure, but not invulnerable.
With a satisfied grin, he moved quickly to the next step. Another scan– this time, looking for common exploits. He sat back, watching the progress bar slowly fill. After a tense few minutes, a configuration issue popped up. There was an outdated encryption algorithm. It wasn’t a perfectly golden opportunity, but it was enough. With some careful maneuvering, he'd be in.
Without hesitation he deployed a simple attack, redirecting local traffic to an interception proxy. It was a little risky, but with the right certificate, he could modify the data exchanged between his computer and the server–like rewriting a conversation as it was taking place.
Things ran smoothly. He cracked his knuckles and pushed forward, launching a series of commands against the login page. The weak password recovery system came down easily, and bypassing the CAPTCHA took only a few more lines of code. A moment later, he was rewarded with default admin access.
The content management system was clean and organized as expected. Peter scrolled through until he found the landing page. A smirk tugged at his lips as he highlighted the word ‘Stark’ and replaced it with ‘Stank’ across several paragraphs. Once that was complete, he added a few new images: a goofy red-nosed reindeer, and an image of Stark Tower crowned with a Santa hat. The entire process was quick, and the results perfectly ridiculous. Best prank ever.
He saved the changes with a satisfied grin, making them public so anyone who stumbled upon it could get a good laugh. That is, until some stuffy corporate guy found it and promptly fixed everything.
With a deep sigh, he stepped away from the computer, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie as he wandered toward the sci-fi section. A display of new arrivals caught his eye, the glossy covers practically begging for attention. He grabbed one at random and made his way to the oversized armchair by the window. Settling into the cushions, he cracked the book open, a quiet chuckle escaping as he flipped past the title page.
Breaking into the Stark Industries website had been laughably simple and exceedingly fun. As he skimmed through the first chapter, his mind drifted to the possibilities. Maybe he could find a way to advertise his talent for digital pranks. He grinned to himself. Getting paid to pull off stunts like that? That sounded like an excellent way to kill time.
"Boss, Colonel Rhodes is on the line. Would you like for me to push the call through?"
Tony set the gauntlet he’d been tinkering with aside. He leaned back in his chair and ran both hands over his face. “Sure. Put him through.”
As he waited for the call to connect, he flexed his fingers and rolled his neck until it gave a satisfying crack. “Hey, Honeybear. I thought–”
“Is this Tony Stank? Tony Stank of Stank Industries?”
Tony squinted between his watch and the numbers displayed on the corner of his screen, confusion creasing his forehead. There was no discrepancy. It was two in the morning. “I’m sorry. Are you drunk?”
“No,” Rhodey replied, his voice brimming with unrestrained glee. “But someone on your media team might be.”
Tony’s frown deepened. “What are you talking about?” he asked, leaning forward and resting an elbow on his desk, his free hand tapping a rhythmic beat on the edge of the desk.
“Check out your company website. Looks like somebody’s got a great sense of humor and zero job preservation skills.”
With a long, exasperated sigh, Tony pushed his chair away from the desk and grudgingly reached for the keyboard. Pulling up the website– something he wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever done before. He studied the screen. At first, nothing seemed out of place. Then he clocked it.
Stank. Stank. Stank. The word repeated obnoxiously across the page, followed by a few new images– a stupid-looking reindeer and a giant hat adorning the top of his building. “What the fuck?”
“Oh, I know, right?” Rhodey’s laugh boomed through the speaker. “You gonna fix it?”
Tony dragged a hand down his face, glaring at the monitor. “Hell no. That’s way below my pay grade,” he grumbled. “I’ll pay someone else to do it in the morning.”
Rhodey’s laughter intensified, and Tony rolled his eyes, already bracing himself for the inevitable fallout. Endless meetings, investigations, and a likely disciplinary action for whichever employee thought they were so hilarious. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was going to be a really long day.
After very little sleep and hours of back-to-back meetings, Tony's patience stretched dangerously thin. They’d watched video feeds and grilled several employees, only to find out the website sabotage wasn’t an inside job. Someone had possessed the audacity to hack into the Stark Industries website– worse, they’d succeeded.
Every passing minute felt like an eternity as the media and IT department heads stumbled over apologies. Beside him, Pepper sat poised, the picture of professionalism, but Tony caught the faintest flicker of frustration in her otherwise composed demeanor. His hands flexed, knuckles whitening briefly before he exhaled through his nose, fixing the latest speaker with a sharp glare.
The IT head offered a tight, uneasy smile. “We'll tighten up security on the site,” he said, his voice edging toward hope. “This won’t happen again, Mr. Stark.”
Tony leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose. His jaw tightened as he fought to keep his tone measured. “Tighten up security?” He scoffed. “Seems to me like that would’ve been a lot more helpful before my company’s name became a punchline.”
He pushed himself to his feet, the idea of allowing someone else to hand the mess no longer appealing. It was more than obvious that he was the only one in the room capable of doing anything right. As a bonus, he could figure out who the jackass was. “You know what? Don’t bother fixing anything.” He clenched on fist and set it on the table. “I’ll handle it and track down this idiot myself.”
He wasn’t seething , just deeply, personally annoyed.
Whoever thought it was a good idea to mess with his website– with his name– in such a petty way, needed to be found. His fingers drummed against his thigh as he moved back and forth. He didn’t care if the culprit was a highly paid corporate sabotage hacker or just some random person with too much time on their hands, they were going to regret messing with him.
“Mr. Stark, are you sure this is something you want to personally handle?” The tentative question came from the cybersecurity lead, his expression caught between caution and disbelief. “I understand, sir. But typically the FBI would —”
Tony turned toward the man with a look that could cut steel. “Trust me,” he said, voice laced with sarcasm. “It’ll be a lot more satisfying for me to track this idiot down than to let some government agency do it for me.” His arms crossed over his chest, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And don’t worry, I’ll update the encryptions and lock up all the back doors while I’m at it.”
Pepper finally spoke, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of steel. “Tony– I know you’re annoyed but there’s a process for these kinds of things– People who–”
“Nope. I’m doing this,” Tony interrupted, holding up a hand. “It’s personal. Someone wanted my attention? Congratulations. They’ve got it.”
The room went silent, all eyes fixed on him. “Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together. “On that note. I’ll be in my lab. Nobody bother me.”
He nodded curtly and waltzed out, leaving a roomful of baffled employees in his wake.
Tony descended into the lab, grumbling under his breath asshole pranks and incompetent cybersecurity teams. He threw himself into his chair, his fingers slamming against the keyboard as he got to work. He sealed up the website's backend code faster than most people could type a text and optimized the encryptions and firewalls in a flash. By the time he was done, the Stark Industries website was more secure than Fort Knox.
Satisfied, rubbed his hands together and grinned. It was time for the real fun to begin: Finding the guilty party.
He leaned back in his chair, scanning the mess of logs and traces the hacker left behind. Whoever they were, they hadn’t been nearly as thorough as they’d thought. He rolled his eyes, interpreting the data with ease "What is this? Amateur hour?" He scoffed under his breath. The IP pings and server redirects were all too obvious. He followed the trail, jumping from one proxy to another.
The trail zigzagged through proxies, bouncing across state lines and international borders like a desperate attempt at misdirection. It took time, but nothing threw him off. Even the clumsy decoy meant to slow him down barely registered as an obstacle.
Tony’s lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, that’s cute,” he mumbled, dismantling the misdirection in a matter of minutes.
With The majority of the data already cataloged and categorized, he fired up his proprietary Stark Tech software to triangulate the origin. The map on his screen flickered and updated, eventually pulling up a rough location: New York City.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start. He leaned forward, tapping his fingers on the desk. If he was going to catch this guy, he needed more. He needed to narrow it down.
“FRIDAY? I’ve just about figured out where the jackass is. I need you to start scouring the web. Blitz through all the shady forums, hidden chat rooms, or wherever it is hackers go to– do their hacker things. Let’s see if we track this guy down.”
“On it boss.”
Tony exhaled, staring as the map on his screen shifted and spun.He ran his hands down his face and released a breath, his brain already moving ahead. The software had limitations. If he was going to pinpoint a precise location it was going to need some improvements. He clenched his jaw and leaned over the keyboard. It would take some trial and error, but he already had a rough idea of what he needed to do.
For hours, the screen glowed with activity as he refined the tracing algorithms. Each tweak, each rewritten line of code came easily. The red dot on the map darted between locations, taunting him with every bounce. “Come on,” he muttered under his breath. “You can do this. Lock it down.”
Gradually, the dot began to linger, its movements slowing and concentrating within a smaller radius. His system was working. He watched, tension building as the dot hesitated, then hovered in place.
“Boss,” FRIDAY’s voice broke through the quiet hum of the lab, startling him. “I’ve found something. There’s a post on a high-traffic hacking forum. It’s linked to the target’s original IP address.”
“Bring up. Let’s see it.”
The post, authored by someone calling themselves ‘LukeSlywalker’ bragged about breaching the Stark Industries website. "Piece of cake," the post read, followed by the claim that it was ‘the best joke ever.’ while advertising their services for similar jobs, at an unspecified fee.
Tony noted the timestamp: thirty-six hours ago. It lined up perfectly. The hacker had finished their little stunt and bolted straight to the forums to boast. There were no replies. Apparently there wasn’t an immediate market for what amounted to childish website vandalism.
He clicked on the username, yielding no results. The profile was completely empty. “Did you find anything else from this guy?”
“Negative, Boss. This appears to be their first and only posting.”
“Newbie,” Tony grumbled, glaring intensely at the blank page. “I suppose that makes sense, though.”
Briefly, he considered registering and posting as a potential client, luring the hacker into a trap. But where was the fun in that? A face-to-face confrontation would be far more satisfying. Hoping for results, attention shifted back to the map. The red dot finally locked onto a location: the Queens Public Library in Flushing. A public computer.
With a deep sigh, Tony leaned back in his chair. “Well, that complicates things, but hey, I’m not one to shy away from a challenge.” He stretched his arms overhead, joints cracking from hours of work.
“Alright, FRIDAY,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “I’m going to take a quick coffee break. Then, we’ll break into a few security cameras. Sounds good?”
“I’m here to assist, boss.”
Tony stood up on stiff knees and shuffled towards the break room. “That’s what I like to hear!”
Peter perused the thrift shop, digging through the racks for something warm and aesthetically pleasing to add to his Spider-Man Suit. His budget, however, complicated things. A bright red leather jacket caught his eye. It met all of his criteria,but the price tag shot far beyond his meager fourteen-dollar limit. With a sigh, he moved on.
“Excuse me,” he asked the nearby employee, “I’m looking for a coat. A red, specifically. What are the chances that you might have one in the back?”
The young man barely looked up from his task. “Kid, we’ve got crates of mismatched junk people dump on us. I have no clue what’s back there. Just come back another day.”
Peter fought back a scowl, a sharp retort right at the tip of his tongue. He held it back in favor of diplomacy. “Could you just check for me? Please? It’s really important. I need it for– Christmas.”
The employee sighed, unimpressed, and glared at the heavy plastic door leading to the stockroom. “Fine. I’ll take a quick peek, but I’m not digging through anything. If it’s not on top, you’re out of luck.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. Thanks!” Peter grinned, enthusiast and hopeful. He really wanted to get the whole Winter-suit thing taken care of so he could get back to patrolling.
As the employee disappeared into the back, Peter wandered over to a bin of accessories and pulled out a scraggly Santa hat. It wasn’t much, but at fifty cents, it fit his budget. He grinned widely and tossed it into his basket.
Minutes later, the employee returned, holding up a red puffer coat. “Will this do?”
“Yeah!” Peter’s face lit up. It looked like it was probably even his size, no alterations required. “It’s perfect! How much?”
“Fifteen bucks.”
Peter nodded his head. “I’ve only got fourteen.”
“Fine, whatever.” The man shrugged. “Fourteen.”
“Awesome.” Peter held up the hat and shook it gently. “Can I get the hat too?”
There was no response.
“Please?”
The employee sighed, undoubtedly ready for his shift to end, and gestured to the front of the store. “Just take it to the register.”
Peter paid exactly fourteen dollars and left the store triumphantly. The coat wasn’t quite Spider-Man ready but it was a huge leap in the right direction. He still needed to wash it, and add an emblem to the back and front. Glancing at his watch, pleased to see he still had four hours before Aunt May’s shift ended. Plenty of time to finish the project and maybe squeeze in a quick patrol.
First, though, he had a different errand to run. He wanted to go to the library to see if anyone had replied to his message board ad. He hoped there was a job waiting for him. With his savings officially depleted, the extra cash would go a long way.
At the library, Peter logged into a computer and quickly navigated to the forum. His shoulders slumped as he saw the lack of replies. Disappointment lingered for a moment before he cleared the browser history, closed out, and headed for his empty apartment.
For several hours, Tony meticulously reviewed some dubiously acquired video footage. At first, he mostly focused on the library's exterior, watching the steady flow of visitors. There were parents wrangling young children, a lot of young professionals, and a notable number of students walking in and out the door. None of them appeared to be the hacker type.
A few clicks and he was able to shift to the library’s interior footage. Most of the cameras were trained on the more specialized areas– the children's section, the teens hangout, and a small maker space. However, one wide-angle camera offered a clear view of the two rows of public computers. There were eight of them lined up beside each other with wooden partitions in between. Unfortunately the angle didn’t offer him a view of the screens, but he could see the people just fine.
He sat there, chin in palm, as he watched the steady turnover of users. Various people casually drifted in and out of the seats, none of them displaying any overly suspicious behavior. No shifty glances over their shoulders, no excessive caution. He was starting to wonder if his tracking software had failed completely.
He fast-forwarded a few minutes in the feed, waiting for a new person to approach. A teenager wandered over, smiling giddily as he plopped into the chair at the computer furthest from the camera. He immediately started typing, the dopey grin never leaving his face. Probably playing one of those highly-popular, low-resolution online games.
Tony rolled his eyes and moved his attention to an adult who had seated himself a few computers away, balancing a baby on their lap. They were just as unlikely to be who he was looking for. No one was running covert operations with an infant in tow.
He glanced at the timestamp. It read about an hour before the undesirable changes had been saved to the website. The hacker had to be in the room already. He leaned in, observing four more adults as they sat down at various terminals. None exuded even a hint of suspicion, each of them as nondescript as the last.
The kid left his computer after about an hour, moving to an armchair across the room. But he didn’t stay there long. Ten minutes later, he was back at the same terminal, typing away.
Tony narrowed his eyes and glanced at the timestamps again. Cross-referencing them with the occurrence of the hacking attempt and the forum post. A possibility flashed through his head.
There was no way the kid was a hacker, right? That would be insane and highly improbable.
He narrowed his eyes, his gaze darted between the adults. There was an older woman who had been seated quietly at her computer for the entire duration. She also fit the timeline. Was Granny really sitting there pulling off cybercrimes? The idea of her moonlighting as a hacker was momentarily amusing, but in the end, she was even more unassuming than the kid.
Frustrated, he ran hand over his forehead, down his face and across his chin. He peeked at the screen beside him. The red dot hadn’t budged. It was still hovering over the library, indicating he was looking in the right place.
"FRIDAY?" Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Run a detailed time comparison. Focus on Granny and the kid in the green coat. When that doesn’t pan out, I’ll reconfigure the tracker and we can try–"
"Both subjects were active during the timeframe in which the hacking and the forum post took place. However the adolescent male is statistically more likely to be the culprit than the elderly woman."
Tony frowned. “Alright, sure. Whatever. How’d we rule out Granny?”
"During the hacking period, a librarian came to check on the elderly woman. In the process, he leaned over her shoulder to read her screen. It is improbable that the librarian would assist with breaching a Fortune 500 company’s website.”
Tony rubbed his eyes. The logic tracked, which meant it probably was the kid. "Fantastic,” he said with faux enthusiasm. “A toddler just hacked my website. Good to know.”
He zoomed in on the kid’s very young face and leaned back in his chair. When he set out to find the person who’d hacked his company’s website, he’d expected them to be a little more– experienced. His lips pursed as two equally unflattering possibilities.
"Either I’m paying my team way too much for garbage-tier results," he muttered, "or I’ve just stumbled across the next prodigy in cyber espionage. Maybe both."
He went through the footage again, watching with interest as the kid leaned forward, clearly engrossed in what was on the screen. When he looked closely he could see the kid’s expression constantly shifting from confidence, to uncertainty, and back again in less than a beat.
Suddenly, the sloppy cover up made more sense– there were deliberate choices in the intrusion, signs of someone with a plan. But there were also gaps. Gaps that screamed inexperience. Still, his skills were far beyond what he’d expect from a high schooler. From what he could tell, the kid was full of raw, untapped talent; rough around the edges but brimming with potential.
Potential that shouldn’t be ignored.
Tony pressed his lips together, a small fraction of his annoyance morphing into intrigue.Tony pushed back from the desk, swiveling his chair toward the holographic interface. "FRIDAY, how do we track him down?"
"I can analyze library card usage, match facial recognition data, and attempt to cross-reference activity timestamps with other digital footprints."
“Yep. Do all of that. Start a file. I wanna know all about this Green Coat Delinquent." He swiveled his chair, watching as FRIDAY’s digital interface lit up with new search parameters.
He had no idea who this kid was, but he had every intention of finding out.