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They were halfway down the math hallway when the announcement crackled over the PA.

“Will the following students please report to the auditorium: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones…”

MJ stopped walking and looked up at the speaker like it had personally insulted her. “Great.” She said. “Random summons. Always a good sign.”

Ned shifted his backpack higher on his shoulder. “Do you think we’re in trouble?”

Peter frowned. “We didn’t do anything.”

MJ gave him a look. “That’s exactly what guilty people say in court documentaries.”

The office kept reading names; Betty Brant, Flash Thompson, a few of the seniors Peter recognized from AP classes, a couple of freshman prodigies who’d already started taking sophomore courses. The list ran long enough that it didn’t sound like detention.

“Maybe it’s a prize.” Ned said hopefully. “Like we all win a pizza party. Or a certificate. Or a… I don’t know, something.”

“If it’s a certificate, I’m leaving.” MJ said.

They pushed through the crowd toward the auditorium. The doors were propped open, and a teacher with a clipboard checked their names off as they went in. There were more kids than Peter expected, scattered in small clumps by grade. The decathlon team was almost all there. Top kids from each year were easy to pick out, the ones who always sat in the front row, who had color-coded planners, who knew their class rank without being asked.

“Feels like a nerd convention.” Ned whispered.

“You’re here too.” MJ pointed out.

“Exactly.” Ned said.

They slid into seats near the middle. A few rows up, Betty had already set her phone to record in her lap, the little red light covered by her thumb. Flash sat with a cluster of other sophomores, leaning back like this was a waste of his time. On the stage, Principal Morita stood at the podium with a folder in his hands. Mr. Harrington hovered off to the side, looking both proud and anxious in equal measure. The last of the called students settled in. The doors closed with a soft thud.

Morita adjusted the microphone. “Good afternoon, everyone. I know you were pulled out of class on short notice, so thank you for coming down quickly.”

A murmur ran through the room.

“You may have guessed this already.” He continued. “But you are here because you represent the highest-achieving students in Midtown High. Each of you is either top-ranked in your grade, a member of our academic decathlon team, or a recipient of a merit-based scholarship. You should be proud of yourselves.”

Ned straightened a little in his seat. MJ kept her expression neutral, but Peter saw her fingers tap once against her notebook, just enough to betray that she cared more than she’d admit.

“As a recognition of your effort.” Morita went on. “The school has been given an opportunity to partner with a local corporate sponsor to provide you with something more than a certificate.”

MJ leaned toward Peter. “Guess I have to stay.” She muttered.

Peter couldn’t help the small smile to her. Morita opened the folder and pulled out a printed page. “I’m very pleased to announce that this Friday, three days from now, you will be taking a special field trip to Stark Industries.”

The reaction was immediate. The auditorium filled with gasps, whispers, and a few outright cheers. Someone in the front row said “No way” loud enough for it to echo. Betty’s eyes went wide as she gripped her phone. Ned grabbed Peter’s arm.

“Dude.” He hissed. “Dude.”

Peter’s heart started hammering. He’d known Stark Industries did occasional public outreach. Tony had mentioned “some school stuff” in passing once and then immediately changed the subject. Peter hadn’t connected it to this.

Morita held up a hand for quiet. “This is not a tourist trip.” He said once the noise died down. “Stark Industries has agreed to host a guided educational tour at their main Tower. You will see parts of their research and development spaces, meet staff, and learn about the kinds of careers available for students with high academic achievement.”

“That’s one way to describe it.” MJ said under her breath.

“This is a privilege, not a right.” Morita said. “There is a strict behavior code. There will be security procedures. And there will be consequences if you fail to follow instructions. But for those of you who do, this is a chance to see one of the most advanced tech environments in the world.”

Harrington stepped up beside him, smiling in that overly enthusiastic way he used when he was nervous. “We’ll be taking two buses.” He said. “I’ll be one of your chaperones, along with Ms. Warren, and we’ll be meeting our Stark Industries contact in the lobby when we arrive. You’ll each receive a permission form and an additional form, which we’ll explain in a moment.”

Peter stared at the stage. Stark Tower. With his classmates. In the same building where he spends three nights a week and weekends running lab simulations and quietly destroying his sleep schedule. The same building where his clearance lets him through doors that other interns weren’t allowed to look at for more than a second.

Ned nudged him. “This is huge.” He whispered. “You’re like… the inside guy.”

Peter kept his voice low. “This is the last thing I need. No one at school can find out what my security clearance is.”

Before Ned could argue, Flash’s voice cut through the general buzz.

“Hey, Principal Morita.” Flash called, not bothering to hide the volume. “So does this mean Penis Parker finally gets to see what Stark Industries looks like inside? Or is he gonna pretend he already has his own office?”

A few kids laughed. Some tried to hide it. Others didn’t. Heat crawled up Peter’s neck.

Morita’s expression tightened. “Mr. Thompson, that’s enough. Remember our bullying policy.”

Flash held up his hands. “What? I’m just asking. He’s the one who keeps saying he’s an intern there.”

A few heads turned toward Peter.

“He doesn’t keep saying anything.” MJ said, voice flat. “You’re the one that won’t shut up about it.”

A ripple of surprised sound went through the row around them. Flash shot her a glare but didn’t fire back right away.

Morita cleared his throat. “Whatever rumors there are about student employment are not the topic today.” He said. “This trip is educational. Personal comments can stay out of it.”

That was as far as he was willing to go. Flash slouched back in his seat, pretending to be bored, but the damage was done. The whispering took on a new edge. Peter stared at his hands. He hated when others talked about his internship, because none of them believed him. That didn’t really bother Peter in the traditional sense because he didn’t care to be popular. It was more about the fact that no one seemed to think he was smart enough to work there. Morita gestured to Harrington and he stepped forward with a stack of papers.

“Alright.” Harrington said. “Here’s the important part. Stark Industries is… understandably protective of their work. You’ll be walking through spaces where confidential projects are being developed. As such, they’ve requested that all students and chaperones sign a nondisclosure agreement.”

A few students looked alarmed. Someone raised a hand.

“A what?” A freshman asked.

“An NDA.” Harrington clarified. “It means you agree not to talk about specific details of what you see beyond what’s allowed in the tour. No taking pictures of sensitive equipment, no posting confidential material online, no sharing proprietary information.”

“Basically, don’t leak trade secrets.” MJ said quietly.

“Precisely.” Harrington said, pointing in her direction without really looking. “You’ll take these forms home, get your parents or guardians to sign them, and return them by Thursday. No form, no trip. There are no exceptions.”

They started passing stacks of paper down the rows. Peter took his when it reached him. There were two sheets clipped together: the standard permission slip and Stark Industries’ NDA, printed with their logo at the top in sharp black ink. His stomach twisted a little tighter. He’d signed his first NDA for Stark Industries months ago. That one had been longer, full of dense legal language that Pepper had walked him through line by line. It covered everything: lab access, tech exposure, prototype details, even which floors he was allowed to mention by name. This one was for students. Shorter. Broad. It still made it clear that if you saw something confidential and talked, Stark Industries had the right to come after you.

Ned flipped through his copy. “This is so cool.” He whispered. “We get to sign real NDAs. Like actual adults.”

“This trip is on Friday.” Morita repeated. “That gives you three days to get everything signed and returned. We will reconfirm attendees on Friday morning, and anyone without completed paperwork will remain at school.” He let his gaze sweep the room. “I expect all of you to take this seriously. You’ve earned this opportunity. Don’t throw it away.”

There were more murmurs, a smattering of applause, kids already talking about outfits and pictures and bragging rights. Peter folded the papers carefully and slipped them into his backpack. He wasn’t worried about getting May’s signature. That would be the easy part. Explaining why he wasn’t thrilled about the trip when everyone else was over the moon would be harder. The assembly broke up. Teachers herded them back toward their classes. The sound of excited chatter filled the hallway.

“Okay, but do you think we’ll see the Iron Man suit?” Ned asked as they walked. “Like actual suits? Not just in glass cases?”

“Based on the NDA, we won’t be permitted into Mr. Stark’s personal lab.” Peter said. “They’ll probably keep us on the safer floors.”

“Safer is relative.” MJ said. “It’s still a tower full of weapons and AI.”

“Yeah.” Ned said happily. “It’s gonna be awesome.”

They reached the stairwell. MJ paused on the first step. “So.” She said, looking at Peter, “What are you gonna do when everyone finds out you have a higher clearance level than interns?”

“What? What are you talking about? I’m only an intern.” Peter stammered. 

“Please. You know way too much about NDAs and Stark’s systems. Everyone else might want to believe you are lying about everything, but I know better. And pretty soon everyone will. Making you very popular. So are you ready?”

“It’s not going to make me popular, because I don’t want to be popular. I don’t want a bunch of fake friends.” Peter answered first. “And to answer your question, no I’m not ready and I have no idea what I am going to do.”

“I suggest you figure that out, because you only have three days.” MJ said, as she turned and started to head down the stairs.

“Dude, what the hell are you going to do?” Ned asked, because he could see the conflict and fear within his best friend’s eyes. 

“I have no idea.” Peter answered with a deep sigh.  

The rest of the day passed in a blur of half-listened-to lessons and Stark Tower thoughts he couldn’t shake. By the final bell, his head felt stuffed with static. When he stepped out the front doors, the usual line of cars and buses waited along the curb. One of them was the familiar Stark vehicle, polished and out of place among the normal sedans. Happy leaned against the passenger’s door, looking at his phone.

Peter walked up, shifting his backpack strap. “Hey, Happy.”

Happy looked up, slid his phone into his pocket, and opened the back door. “In you go, kid.”

Peter climbed in. The door shut with a solid thunk. Happy got behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb. They drove in silence for a few blocks. Happy watched the road, but Peter could feel his eyes flick up to the rearview mirror every now and then.

“You look like someone kicked your puppy.” Happy said eventually. “What’s going on?”

Peter stared at his hands. “We’re going to Stark Tower on Friday.”

Happy frowned. “You mean, like… for work? Tony didn’t tell me…”

“No.” Peter cut in. “For school. Field trip.”

Happy blinked once. “They’re taking a field trip to the Tower?”

“Yeah.” Peter said. “Top students, decathlon, scholarship kids. They announced it today.”

Happy whistled low. “That’s… something.”

“It’s a reward.” Peter said. “Apparently.”

“You don’t sound thrilled.”

“I’m not.” The words came out sharper than he meant. He exhaled. “Sorry. It’s just… they all think I’m lying about working there. Or crazy. Or both. And now they’re going to be in the building and going through security and…”

“And you’re worried about your clearance.” Happy finished.

Peter nodded. “I’m not supposed to show off my badge. I’m not supposed to talk about what I do. My access level isn’t normal. If FRIDAY calls me something weird in front of them, it’s going to be a disaster.”

Happy drove for another moment, thinking. “We can work with that.” He said finally.

Peter looked up. “How?”

“There are different badge profiles.” Happy said. “Right now, your credentials are set to executive access. For visitors and public-facing stuff, we can give you a standard intern badge.”

“A… normal one?” Peter asked.

“Normal as it gets when you work for Tony.” Happy said. “It’ll scan as a standard intern, cleared for some of the classified floors, like the lower R&D labs. FRIDAY can route your real access through the private network like usual. On paper, for this trip, you’ll be just another kid with a Stark intern title.”

The tightness in Peter’s chest eased a little. “You can do that?”

“I can get you the badge. I can’t help you with FRIDAY.” Happy said. “But I know someone who can. We’ll talk to Tony. Get FRIDAY to adjust what she calls you near the tour zones. Keep it generic.”

Peter let out a breath. “Thanks, Happy. That would help a lot.”

Happy glanced at him in the mirror. “You should have said something sooner instead of stressing about it alone.”

“They just told us today.” Peter said. “I’m still processing.”

“Yeah, well.” Happy said. “Processing is easier when you’re not doing it by yourself.”

They rode the rest of the way in relative quiet. The city slid past the windows, familiar and crowded. When they reached the private entrance below the Tower, the guard glanced at the car, recognized it, and waved them through. Happy parked in the underground bay and killed the engine. “Go on.” He said. “He’s in the lab. I’ll take care of the badge thing.”

Peter hesitated. “Happy?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” Peter said.

Happy shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Just doing my job, kid.”

Peter headed for the private elevator. FRIDAY pinged his presence and opened the doors automatically. The ride up felt shorter than usual, his mind already a few steps ahead in the lab. Tony was exactly where Peter expected him to be; standing at one of the central worktables, glasses on, holographic schematics hovering in front of him. He had one hand braced on the edge of the table and the other tapping through adjustments.

“Hey, kid.” Tony said without looking up. “You’re late.”

“I’m two minutes early.” Peter countered.

Tony smirked, finally glancing over. “Then I’m fast.”

Peter dropped his backpack near his usual stool. The familiarity of the lab space steadied him. Tools lined up exactly where he’d left them. The faint hum of machines filled the background. It felt like being somewhere he understood.

Tony shifted a projection aside. “So. How was school? Learn anything useful? Or just memorize enough to pass a standardized test for a system that hasn’t been updated in thirty years?”

“They called us to the auditorium.” Peter said.

“That’s not an answer to my question.” Tony said, but his attention sharpened.

“There’s a field trip on Friday.” Peter said. “To Stark Industries.”

Tony blinked. “To here?”

“Yeah.”

Tony took his glasses off. “You’re bringing your little friends to work?”

“It’s not my idea.” Peter said quickly. “Principal Morita said it’s for ‘top-performing students.’ STEM focus, tour, all that. They’re going to be in the lobby and the lower floors and some of the innovation spaces.”

Tony snorted. “Congratulations. You’re getting paid in exposure.”

Peter didn’t laugh.

Tony’s expression shifted. “You’re not excited.”

“It’s not that.” Peter said. “I just… they already think I’m lying about working here. Flash keeps making comments. The other kids laugh. The principal barely tells him off. If they come here and see… anything weird, it’s going to make everything worse.”

Tony leaned against the table. “Define ‘weird.’”

“My clearance.” Peter said. “FRIDAY. The way security flags me. The badge. I’m not supposed to talk about any of that. But if she calls me any of the nicknames you have for me or states classified position or executive intern or something in front of everyone, I’ll never hear the end of it. And it’s not like I can tell everyone I am your personal intern. Not without them wondering why and possibly looking closer at me and maybe Spider-Man.”

Tony considered that. “You think I have FRIDAY calling you ‘Executive Intern’ behind your back?”

“I don’t know what you have FRIDAY calling me.” Peter said. “That’s the problem.”

“FRIDAY?” Tony asked.

“Yes, Boss?”

“What’s Peter’s designation in your core system?”

“Primary lab assistant under Tony Stark’s command.” FRIDAY said promptly. “With full clearance-level access across all floors and projects.”

Peter pointed up to the ceiling as he spoke. “That.”

Tony winced slightly. “Okay. Yeah. I can see how that might be a little… conspicuous on a school tour.”

“A little.” Peter said.

Tony set his glasses down. “It’s not like you go through security often. Anyone in the building that asks about you FRIDAY is programed to tell them that you are a senior level intern with Red Status. But most people don’t ask because they hardly see you.” This hadn’t been an issue before because Peter either worked with him in his own lab or he was with Banner in his. He was on occasion in one of the upper R&D labs to help with a project, but that was it. Peter has the same clearance that Tony, Pepper and even Happy had. Essentially, if he could walk through a door, no one had the right to question if he was supposed to be there. “Alright. Here’s what we’ll do. For the duration of the field trip, FRIDAY will restrict any spoken references to you to ‘Peter Parker, intern.’ No mention of access levels, no mention of project status.”

“Can she do that?” Peter asked.

“FRIDAY can do anything.” Tony said. “Except make coffee. Still working on that.”

“Rude.” FRIDAY said.

Tony ignored her. “We’ll also have Happy swap your public badge profile to a standard intern designation. Your real access will be routed through the private network. To anyone scanning you on the generic system, you’ll look like a normal high-school intern who got lucky.”

Peter exhaled slowly. “That would… fix a lot of it.”

“Look, kid.” Tony’s tone softened. “You earned your spot here. You’re not a mascot. You’re not a pity hire. You work hard, you run simulations, you fix things my adult interns break. If they can’t handle the fact that a fifteen-year-old is good at what he does, that’s their problem. Not yours.”

“Yeah, but they don’t know any of that.” Peter said. “They just see me sitting in the back of the bus.”

“They’ll see what I want them to see.” Tony said. “And right now, I’m more concerned about you not having a panic attack in my lobby because FRIDAY got too honest.”

“I don’t have panic attacks.” Peter muttered.

Tony gave him a look.

“Okay, maybe a small one.” Peter admitted. “Quietly. In my head.”

“Less of that.” Tony said. “More of this.” He gestured to the table. “We’ve got an arc projector upgrade to finish, and I’m not doing it alone.”

Peter moved to his workstation, fingers already itching to pick up the tools. The familiar routine settled over him; measurements, adjustments, the clean satisfaction of making something work. Halfway through calibrating a component, he realized the knot in his chest had loosened.

“Hey, Mr. Stark?” He asked.

“Yeah?” Tony said without looking up from his own board.

“Thanks.” Peter said. “For… you know. Fixing the FRIDAY thing. And the badge. And… listening.”

Tony shrugged one shoulder. “That’s what I’m here for. Well, that and preventing global catastrophes. You’re in the top three, though.”

Peter smiled, small but genuine. By the time Happy came by to tell him it was time to head home, the field trip didn’t feel like a looming disaster anymore. It still made his stomach twist, but it wasn’t all fear now. There was something else mixed in.

Maybe, just maybe, it would be okay. He just had to get through Friday without FRIDAY outing him, Flash starting a riot, or a Stark intern deciding he didn’t belong. Easy, he told himself. Right.

XXX

Friday morning arrived faster than Peter wanted it to. His alarm went off at six-thirty, loud and insistent. He laid there for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling and listening to the faint New York traffic outside, trying to pretend it was any other school day. It wasn’t. He rolled onto his side and saw the Stark Industries permission slip and NDA sitting on his desk where he’d left them, clipped together, waiting.

“Right.” He muttered.

He got up, dressed on autopilot, jeans that weren’t too worn, a clean t-shirt, Tony’s MIT hoodie that he had “borrowed” a few months ago, and headed for the kitchen. May was already up, pouring coffee into a travel mug. The TV was on low, local news murmuring in the background.

“Morning.” She said, glancing over. “You’re up early. Nervous?”

“A little.” Peter admitted.

She nodded toward the table. “Forms?”

He set the packet down in front of her. “Yeah. I filled out my part last night. Just need your signature.”

She grabbed her glasses, slipped them on, and read through them. “Field trip to Stark Industries.” She read aloud. “Top academic performers. Very fancy.”

“It’s a reward.” Peter said. “Apparently.”

“I told you all those late nights studying would pay off.” May said. She skimmed the NDA. “And this is… standard Stark overkill.”

“That’s the short version.” Peter said. “The real one for my internship took an hour to read. Pepper almost made me take notes.”

May gave him a look over the top of her glasses. “You’re okay with this, right? You don’t have to go just because everyone else is excited. If it’s going to make things worse for you at school, we can say you’re sick.”

Peter shook his head. “No, I should go. If I skip it, it’ll make everything weirder. Happy and Mr. Stark fixed the clearance and FRIDAY stuff. It should be fine.”

“Should be.” May repeated, not fully convinced. She signed her name on both forms anyway. “Well, you earned the right to be there by yourself. That’s what matters. This isn’t a Stark Industries pity invite. You did the work.”

He folded the forms carefully and slid them into his backpack. “Thanks, May.”

She reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “Just remember you belong there. In both places. Okay?”

He nodded, even if he didn’t fully feel it. He grabbed a slice of toast on his way out the door. The air outside had a bit of a bite to it, but the sky was clear. The walk to school felt shorter than usual, his feet moving while his brain replayed the same thoughts. Standard intern badge. FRIDAY just calls me ‘intern.’ Don’t do anything weird. Don’t climb any walls. Don’t let Flash get in your head. Don’t throw up.

By the time he reached Midtown, students were already clustering in the main hall, clutching permission slips, dressed a little nicer than usual. Some of the seniors wore button-ups; a few freshmen looked like they’d raided their parents’ closets. All of them were dressed nicer than he was and Peter felt very underdressed for this. 

Ned spotted him almost immediately and hurried over. “You brought the forms, right? Please say you brought the forms.”

Peter patted his backpack. “Yeah, I’ve got them. Did you?”

Ned held his up like a trophy. “Signed and everything. My mom wrote a note at the bottom saying ‘thank you for encouraging academic excellence.’ She was very excited.”

“That sounds like her.” Peter said.

MJ joined them a second later, hands in the pockets of her jacket. “Well, look at this,” She said. “A gathering of nerds about to sell their souls to a tech corporation.”

“Correction.” Ned said. “We’re selling our souls for one day for a tour and possible glimpse of Iron Man armor.”

“That’s worse.” MJ said. “But at least you’re honest about it.”

Harrington and Ms. Warren stood at a folding table near the front, collecting forms. Principal Morita was there too, talking quietly with one of the other teachers. He looked more relaxed than he had during the assembly; clearly he was proud to have Midtown attached to Stark’s name.

“Alright, everyone.” Harrington called, trying to be heard over the chatter. “If you have your forms, please bring them up in an orderly fashion. One line, please. We leave in ten minutes.”

That request lasted about three seconds. Two lines formed, then three. Ms. Warren managed to pull them into something resembling order. Peter handed his forms over when it was his turn. Harrington checked for signatures, nodded, and highlighted his name on the list.

“You’re all set, Peter.” He said. “Big day.”

“Yeah.” Peter said. “Big day.”

Flash came up behind him, his form held up between two fingers like it was proof of something. “Here you go, Mr. H. One ticket to billionaire land.”

“Thank you, Flash.” Harrington said. “Please go wait with the others.”

Flash turned to Peter instead. “So, Penis.” He said. “You ready to see what an actual Stark Industries hallway looks like? Or are you going to pretend you’ve been there a hundred times already?”

Ned rolled his eyes. “You’re really obsessed with him, you know that?”

Flash ignored him. He kept his eyes on Peter. “You know what’s funny? When the guide tells everyone they don’t hire high school interns? I can’t wait to see your face.”

“You talk a lot for someone who is only here because he’s an alternative on the Decathlon Team. Without that you wouldn’t even be here. Your GPA has you ranked as a hundred and eight in the entire school.” MJ said calmly.

A couple of kids overheard and snickered. Flash’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked off toward a group of seniors.

Once roll call was done and forms were collected, Harrington raised his clipboard again. “Okay! Last chance for the bathroom. Everyone else, start heading out to the buses. Remember, you represent Midtown today. No horseplay, no shouting, no wandering off.”

They filed out into the cool air, moving like a noisy cluster of bees. Two yellow buses waited at the curb, drivers already in their seats. Names were taped to the side windows, who went on which bus. Peter found his name on the list for the second bus. Ned and MJ were there too, along with Betty, Flash, most of the decathlon team, and a couple of seniors Peter only knew from seeing their names on honor roll lists.

They climbed aboard and moved down the aisle. Peter and Ned grabbed a seat together midway back. MJ took the seat across from them and immediately pulled out a paperback, but her eyes kept flicking up to the others. Betty slid into the seat ahead of them, twisting around over the back. “Okay, confession.” She said. “I barely slept last night. This is going to be huge for Midtown News.”

“Do you even have permission to film?” MJ asked.

“Not yet.” Betty said. “But optimism is key to journalism.”

The bus filled quickly. Flash claimed a spot a few rows up, leaning into the aisle so he had an easy line of sight to Peter. Harrington stood at the front, one hand on the metal bar, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“Everyone seated?” He called. “No one stands when the bus is moving. Alright, let’s get this show on the road!”

The driver closed the doors and pulled away from the curb. The noise level rose almost immediately.

“Do you think Tony Stark will actually be there?” Someone asked.

“He’s probably in space.” Another kid said.

“I heard they have a whole floor just for Iron Man suits.”

“That’s not true.” Peter said instinctively, then winced.

Ned elbowed him lightly. “Easy.” He whispered. “NDA brain.”

Betty twisted around again, phone in hand but not recording. “Peter? Can I ask you something? Not on camera. Yet.”

“That’s a terrifying sentence.” MJ said.

Betty ignored her. “Is it true? You know… that you actually intern there? Like, for real?”

A few heads nearby turned. Flash tilted his head to listen.

Peter felt the familiar knot form. “Yeah.” He said quietly. “I help out sometimes. With some lab stuff.”

“How?” One of the seniors asked, leaning over the seat. “They don’t take high school students. My cousin applied and they told him he was too young.”

“It’s… complicated.” Peter said. “Mr. Stark recruited me personally. I’m under a separate contract.”

Flash snorted. “So now you’re personal friends with Tony Stark.”

“I didn’t say that.” Peter said.

“You didn’t have to.” Flash said. “You’ve been bragging about this fake internship for months. Today it all comes crashing down.”

Ned straightened. “It’s not fake, Flash. FRIDAY knows him. Happy picks him up after school. There are pictures…”

“Ned.” Peter cut in, voice low. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.” Ned said. “You work your ass off and all he does is…”

“I said it’s fine.” Peter repeated. He didn’t raise his voice, but Ned stopped. The last thing Peter wanted was to fight about it all the way into Manhattan.

Betty watched him carefully. “You can’t tell us what you do there, can you?”

Peter shook his head. “Not really. I signed a pretty heavy NDA. This trip one is nothing compared to that.”

The bus turned onto the highway. Midtown’s low buildings gave way to taller ones, glass and steel reflecting the morning sun. Conversations continued, layered over each other.

“I heard they have a whole AI that runs the building.”

“That’s FRIDAY.” Someone said. “It’s in the movies.”

“You think we’ll see her?”

“How do you see an AI?”

“You know what I mean.”

Peter leaned his head against the window, watching the city slide by. His phone buzzed in his hand.

TONY: You on the bus yet?

PETER: Yeah.

PETER: Everyone’s very excited.

TONY: As they should be. It’s a great building.

TONY: FRIDAY’s updated. Public systems read you as “R&D Intern.” No extras.

TONY: Stop worrying. You’ll be fine.

PETER: Easy for you to say

TONY: Correct. I don’t have to see Thompson every day.

TONY: Consider this exposure therapy.

Peter huffed out a small breath that was almost a laugh.

PETER: Thought you had meetings today

TONY: I do

TONY: Off-site

TONY: FRIDAY will keep an eye on you

TONY: And Happy is in the building.

TONY: If something goes wrong, someone will step in.

PETER: Thanks Mr. Stark

He slid the phone back into his pocket. The reassurance helped, even if it didn’t completely erase the nerves. The bus crossed a bridge. The skyline ahead looked sharper, bigger. Ten minutes later, the driver turned down a familiar street, and Stark Tower came into view. Even from a distance, it drew attention. Conversation in the bus shifted into actual awe this time.

“Whoa.”

“Oh my god.”

“That’s it.” Ned said quietly. “We’re really going in there.”

Peter couldn’t stop looking either. The Tower always looked impressive, but this was the first time he was coming at it from the student side. No private entrance, no back security route, no Happy dropping him straight into the underground garage. This was the front door, the lobby everyone in the world saw in news photos.

“It’s huge.” One of the freshmen said.

“That’s what she said.” Someone muttered.

Mr. Harrington barked his name and told him to knock it off. The bus pulled into the designated loading zone near the main steps. The other bus pulled in behind them. Harrington stood up.

“Alright!” He called over the noise. “Everyone stays seated until I call your row. When you get off, stay on the sidewalk and wait until we’re all together. Do not go running off. This is still a working place. Understood?”

A chorus of half-hearted yeses and “yeah” answered him. Rows were dismissed. Peter, Ned, and MJ shuffled down the aisle with the second group. Flash shoved his way ahead, nearly hitting Ned with his backpack.

“Watch it.” Ned muttered.

Flash ignored him. The air outside felt cooler in the shadow of the Tower. Up close, the glass and steel seemed even more imposing. People in suits and lab coats passed in and out of the revolving doors, scanning badges, talking into headsets. It was just another Friday for them. For Peter’s classmates, it might as well have been another planet. Harrington and Ms. Warren gathered them near the bottom of the steps. 

A woman in a Stark security jacket came down the steps, holding a tablet. “Midtown High?” She asked.

“That’s us.” Harrington said, sounding slightly breathless. “I’m Mr. Harrington. This is Ms. Warren.”

She nodded. “Welcome. We’ll need everyone to go through check-in and security. Students will receive visitor badges. Teachers and chaperones will as well. Then we’ll move you to the lobby to meet your guide.” She gestured them up the steps toward a portable check-in station just inside the doors. A second security officer waited near the scanners.

“Okay, everyone.” Ms. Warren said. “Single line. Have your school IDs ready if you have them.”

The line snaked forward. One by one, students stepped up, said their names, and had white VISITOR badges printed and handed to them.

Betty clipped hers on immediately. “I’m never throwing this away.” She whispered.

Flash stepped up. “Flash Thompson.” He said, like he expected the Tower itself to recognize him.

The scanner beeped. The woman handed him a visitor badge with his name and a red VISITOR stripe. Flash glanced down at it, satisfied enough.

Ned went a few spots later. “Ned Leeds.” Beep. Visitor badge. He clipped it to his jacket and shuffled forward.

When they were almost at the front, Peter reached into his backpack and pulled out his Stark intern badge. The lanyard felt familiar between his fingers. Happy had given him this version yesterday, standard “R&D Intern” on the front, his name and photo, nothing about his actual clearance printed where anyone could see.

“Nervous?” Ned asked quietly.

“A little.” Peter said. “Just remember the plan.”

“Plan: don’t freak out.” Ned said. “Got it.”

They reached the front. Ned stepped up, said his name, got his visitor badge. MJ did the same. The security officer glanced at Peter as he approached.

“Name?” She asked.

“Peter Parker.” He said.

She looked down at his chest before typing, eyes landing on his intern badge. Her eyebrows went up a fraction. “You already have an internal badge.” She said.

Peter felt his heart jolt. “Yeah.” He said. “I… intern here. Sometimes.”

She checked her tablet. Something on the screen clearly matched what he’d said, because her expression relaxed. “You’re in the system.” She confirmed. “You won’t need a visitor badge. Just keep that one visible at all times.”

“Okay.” He said. “Thank you.”

Behind him, Flash’s voice carried. “Did you hear that? He probably made that at Kinko’s.”

A few kids laughed on reflex. The security officer didn’t even look up. She’d already moved on to the next name. Past the check-in table was the main security arch. It looked like a sleek, upgraded metal detector, with panels hiding most of the tech. Bag scanners sat to the side, belts ready to carry backpacks through.

“Step through one at a time.” The second guard said. “Wait for clearance before moving on.”

The first student walked through. FRIDAY’s voice came through the overhead speakers, calm and even. “Betty Brant. Visitor access confirmed.” Betty exhaled and moved forward.

Another student. “Ned Leeds. Visitor access confirmed.” Ned grinned a little and moved on.

“Michelle Jones. Visitor access confirmed.” MJ walked through without changing expression.

Flash strutted through the arch. “Eugene Thompson. Visitor access confirmed,” FRIDAY said. Flash flinched a little at the use of his full name. A couple of nearby kids tried not to laugh.

Then it was Peter’s turn. He swallowed, adjusted his intern badge so it lay flat against his chest, and stepped between the panels. He could feel the scanner sweep over him, a silent vibration only his nerves registered.

FRIDAY spoke a moment later. “Peter Parker. R&D intern status confirmed. Welcome back, Peter.”

The words hung there. Conversation dipped for a second. The group right behind him went quiet. Peter walked forward, resisting the urge to speed up. His pulse pounded in his ears.

“Did she say ‘intern’?” One of the freshmen whispered.

“She said ‘welcome back.’” another kid said. “Like he… works here.”

Flash recovered first. “It’s just a stupid AI.” He said loudly. “You can program those things to say whatever you want. Doesn’t prove anything.”

“Or.” MJ said, stepping away from the scanner. “It proves exactly what he’s been saying for months, and you just don’t like being wrong.”

Flash glared at her. “Why are you on his side?”

“I’m on the side that’s not annoying.” She said.

Ms. Warren shot them all a warning look. “Alright, enough. Let’s keep moving. We’re holding up the line.”

The rest of the group finished going through security. FRIDAY kept up her steady announcements, each name followed by “visitor access confirmed.” No one else got a special greeting.

Once everyone was through, the Stark security officer directed them to gather near a cluster of chairs along one side of the lobby. The space was open, with high ceilings, clean lines, and a huge Stark logo behind the main desk. People came and went, barely glancing at the group of high schoolers. Peter shifted his weight from foot to foot, painfully aware of his badge and the eyes flicking toward it. His stomach was somewhere near his shoes.

“Does it feel weird?” Ned asked quietly.

“What?” Peter said.

“Being here with all of us like this.” Ned said. “Instead of… you know. Just Happy’s car and the private elevator.”

Peter thought about it. “Yeah.” He said. “It feels… different.”

“Good different or bad different?” Ned asked.

“Ask me later.” Peter said.

A woman approached from the bank of elevators, tablet tucked under one arm. She wore business-casual clothes and a Stark badge that read Amanda Blake, Senior Intern, R&D. Her posture was straight, professional, not a wasted movement.

“Midtown High?” She asked.

Mr. Harrington stepped forward. “Yes. Mr. Harrington and Ms. Warren. Thank you again for having us.”

“Of course.” Amanda said, offering him a quick, polite smile. “I’m Amanda Blake. I’m one of the senior interns responsible for coordinating outreach tours. I’ll be guiding you today.”

She turned to the group. Her eyes scanned the students, taking in visitor badges, posture, general level of chaos. When her gaze reached Peter, it stopped for just a second longer than it had on anyone else. Her eyes dropped to his chest. She saw the intern badge. Recognition flickered there, the kind that said she’d seen his name on a list or an internal memo. Her expression tightened in a way most of the students wouldn’t notice, but Peter did. She knew who he was. And she didn’t look thrilled about it.

“First of all.” Amanda said, addressing the whole group now. “Congratulations. Being here is not something we offer to every school. You’ve all earned this opportunity. We’re going to show you some of our non-classified workspaces and talk about pathways into STEM careers.”

She lifted her tablet. “Ground rules. Stay with the group at all times. Do not open doors, press buttons, or touch equipment unless explicitly told you may do so. Do not photograph anything marked restricted or classified. Do not cross any tape lines or step behind any workstations. If you are unsure whether something is off-limits, assume it is. Understood?”

“Yes.” The group murmured.

“Good.” Amanda said. “We’ll start on one of our Innovation Floors. Please follow me to the elevators. Visitor badges out and visible.”

The students started to move. Ned nudged Peter. “She looked at you like she recognized you.”

“She did.” Peter said quietly.

“That’s good, right?” Ned asked. “Colleague solidarity or whatever?”

Peter wasn’t so sure. He adjusted his badge again and stepped into the elevator with the rest of them, feeling the walls close in around his two separate lives. FRIDAY had welcomed him back. Amanda had recognized him. And his classmates had heard every word. Whatever happened next, there was no way to pretend he was just another kid on a field trip anymore.

Amanda positioned herself at the front of the elevator, tablet in hand, back to the metal panel. The doors slid shut and the car started to rise with a smooth hum.

“While we’re going up.” She said. “I’ll give you a quick overview. The floor we’re visiting is one of our mid-level research and development spaces. You’ll see workstations where prototypes are tested, data is collected, and support work is done for larger projects.”

Peter stood near the middle of the group, pressed between Ned and a couple of juniors he only vaguely recognized. He kept his shoulders slightly hunched, badge visible but not something he drew attention to.

“Do you work here all the time?” One of the seniors asked.

“Often.” Amanda said. “I’m assigned to multiple labs. Most senior interns rotate between projects. You’ll meet a few others today.”

Flash lifted his voice. “So, are there any other interns our age? Like high school?” He dragged out the words. “Or is this, you know, more of a grown-up job?”

A couple of kids snickered. Peter stared at the floor.

Amanda’s eyes flicked over to him and then back to Flash. “The majority of our interns are undergraduates or graduate students.” She said. “There are a few exceptions depending on what department they are in. Departments like finance and human resources, the more office based departments could have freshmen in College or even a senior in high school if they are able to swing it. Down in the labs, you need to be at a minimum three years into your Masters in any of the STEM programs. It’s a matter of intelligence. High schoolers don’t have the education nor knowledge that you are required to have in order to properly work in a lab like Stark Industries has.”

That caused a wave of whispers to fill the very small elevator. 

“See, I told you the badge was fake.” Flash said.

“How could Parker be an intern then?” Someone else asked.

“Maybe he did hack into the system.” Someone else tossed out. 

Peter did his best to not shrink away. He knew Amanda was not going to be happy with seeing him. None of the senior interns would be pleased. They didn’t like him because to them he had gotten here somehow and it wasn’t through his intelligence. Honestly, if Peter had been older, they would have assumed he was sleeping with Tony and this was just their cover for their illicit affair. The elevator chimed and the doors slid open into a wide hallway with a Stark logo on the wall and glass panels that looked into various rooms. Amanda stepped out first.

“Remember.” She said. “Do not touch any equipment unless you are told you may do so.”

They followed her down the hall. Peter recognized the layout. He’d been on this floor a handful of times, usually when Tony wanted him to see how certain prototyping pipelines worked. The labs here were smaller than the main ones, used for intermediate development, testing, and support. Amanda stopped at one of the glass doors and scanned her badge. It unlocked with a soft click.

“Welcome to Lab 4B.” She said. “This is one of our general R&D support labs. We’ll start here.”

She pushed the door open and held it while the students filed in. Inside, the lab was bright and organized, rows of workbenches, computers, test rigs, equipment racks. Whiteboards were covered in equations and notes. There were three people working already, all in their mid-to-late twenties, all wearing Stark badges. One guy sat at a workstation, typing code with his headphones around his neck. A woman in a lab coat was adjusting something on a test bench. Another man was sorting components into labeled trays. They all looked up when the group came in.

“Hey.” The guy at the computer said. “Is this the school group?”

“Midtown High.” Amanda confirmed. “This is one of our R&D cohorts. Everyone, this is Raj Patel, senior intern. That’s Melissa Kim, also senior intern, and over there is Jake Turner, senior intern.”

They lifted their hands in loose waves.

“Hi.” Melissa said. “Welcome to the chaos.”

A few kids laughed.

“This is not chaos.” Jake said. “You should see alpha testing days.”

Peter recognized Jake. He’d seen him in the main lab once or twice, usually dropping off reports or picking up equipment. Jake had given him a curious look the first time, then a colder one when he’d realized Peter wasn’t here to grab something and then leave.

Amanda motioned the group further in. “Raj, would you mind talking a bit about what you’re doing?”

Raj swiveled his chair around. “Sure. Uh, right now we’re running stability testing for some sensor arrays that get integrated into larger systems. We do a lot of baseline data collection, error checking, that kind of thing. It sounds boring until you realize if we screw it up, something expensive explodes.”

That got their attention.

“Do you ever, like, build Iron Man suits?” A freshman blurted out.

“No.” Raj said, amused. “That’s not how this works. These days, everything is modular. We work on parts. Software, hardware, integration. You’d be surprised how much of this place is just people making sure the numbers line up.”

Amanda stepped in again. “A big part of what interns do here is support.” She said. “Running tests, logging data, assisting engineers, handling documentation. Every big project relies on people doing the so-called boring work correctly.”

She said it like a lecture. Peter knew she wasn’t wrong. A lot of his lab hours were spent on repetitive tasks. The difference was what Tony trusted him with when they weren’t repetitive.

“What about him?” Flash asked, jerking his chin toward Peter. “What does he do? Take out the trash?”

Several heads turned. Peter’s stomach dropped.

Raj looked straight at him now, eyes flat. “Peter helps with intern support.” He said. “Every lab needs someone to run errands, file reports, keep things clean. He does all the little stuff so we can properly focus on the real work.”

“So he’s, like… the assistant’s assistant.” Flash said, smirking.

“A lot of people start that way.” Amanda said. “Every team needs someone who can keep the paperwork straight and make sure the area is cleaned. Not everyone is cut out for the technical side. Some people are better at being… helpful.”

Peter felt the words hit like small, precise punches. Not loud, not dramatic. Just cutting.

Ned frowned. “That’s not all he does.” He started.

“Ned.” Peter said under his breath. “Don’t.”

Ned shut his mouth, but he didn’t look happy about it.

One of the juniors snickered. “So he’s the coffee guy.”

Melissa, who had come closer without saying much, smiled a little too widely. “Every lab needs someone to do the coffee runs.” She said. “We’re very grateful when our support interns remember the orders.”

She glanced at Peter like that was her idea of a joke.

He swallowed. “I don’t get coffee.” He said quietly.

Raj stood, stretching his arms. “Look, not everyone here is writing groundbreaking code every second.” He said. “We do a lot of grunt work. That’s what internships are. You don’t come in and start running the place. You prove you can handle the schedule, the workload, the hierarchy. Peter’s just… earlier in the pipeline.”

“But that’s not his fault.” Melissa said lightly. “He’s still in high school. It’s nice of Mr. Stark to bring someone like him in at all. Charity starts at home and all that.”

A few kids laughed again, more openly this time. The word “charity” stuck. Flash was beaming like Christmas had come early.

“So he got in because Stark felt bad for him?” Flash asked. “That tracks.”

“You ever think he got in because he’s actually good at what he does?” Ned snapped. “You don’t know anything about him.”

Jake, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke. “We know plenty.” He said. He leaned back against the workbench, crossing his arms. “We know we went through three rounds of interviews, panels with HR, technical evaluations, reference checks. We also know that he just showed up one day. No one even knew he was coming. That only happens when someone is feeling charitable and decided to help out with Make A Wish.”

Amanda gave him a quick look, like she wanted him to dial it back, but didn’t correct anything he’d said.

Betty raised her hand a little, eyes wide as she took this all in. “So, wait.” She said. “Are you saying he doesn’t really work here, or he does?”

“He works here, but in a very small part.” Melissa explained. 

MJ’s voice cut through the murmurs. “You’re working real hard to make him sound useless. You all sound bitter because he didn’t have to jump through hoops to get the same job you all did.”

Amanda’s eyes snapped to her. “Excuse me?”

“He doesn’t do what we do. We’re actual interns. He’s just the kid we have to put up with and hope he can not screw up simple tasks.” Jake stated. 

“This isn’t a debate.” Amanda said. “We’re here to talk about the work. Not office politics.”

“Then maybe stop bringing up the hierarchy.” MJ said. “You’re the one who brought up who went through how many interviews.”

Jake let out a short, humorless laugh. “You think hierarchy isn’t part of the work? Kid, you’re not ready for corporate.”

“I’m fifteen.” MJ said. “I don’t need to be ready for corporate.”

“Okay.” Mr. Harrington cut in, voice a little too bright. “Why don’t we refocus on the interesting science part? Raj, maybe you can show them some of the equipment?”

Raj hesitated, then nodded. “Sure. Uh, over here we’ve got one of our test rigs for…”

He launched into an explanation about stress testing components. The students closest to him crowded around, eager to see something that looked like real tech. The buzz of talk shifted toward the equipment.

Jake stepped closer to Melissa and Amanda, lowering his voice. Peter still caught it.

“I can’t believe he wore the badge.” Jake muttered. “Like he’s one of us.”

Melissa scoffed. “Of course he did. It’s probably half his personality at school.”

Peter stared at the floor again. His fingers curled slightly at his sides.

Ned leaned in. “You know that’s not true.” He whispered.

“Doesn’t matter.” Peter said. His voice sounded tired, even to himself. “It’s easier if they think that.”

“Easier for who?” Ned asked.

Peter didn’t answer.

Raj finished his explanation and gestured toward another workstation. “This is one of our calibration stations.” He said. “We use it to make sure sensors are reporting accurate data. If they’re off by even a small margin, it can mess up the entire system.”

Harrington looked genuinely fascinated. “So you’re basically the quality control before anything moves up?”

“Exactly.” Raj said.

One of the younger students pointed at a display on the screen. “What does that mean?”

“The green line is what we want.” Raj said. “The red line is what we’re actually getting. So right now, something’s off. We’re still tracking down the source.”

Peter glanced at the screen. The discrepancy pattern looked familiar. He’d seen something similar in Tony’s lab when a piece of equipment had been slightly misaligned.

“Your reference sensor’s out.” Peter said, before he could stop himself.

Raj looked over at him. “What?”

Peter stepped closer, keeping his hands behind his back. “Your reference is off.” He said. “The main sensor is probably fine. If your baseline’s wrong, everything reading against it looks wrong. The drift pattern matches a faulty reference, not a faulty main.”

Raj frowned, turned back to the console, and tapped a few keys. Numbers shifted. He checked a different screen, then another.

“…Huh.” He said. He sounded surprised despite himself. “Yeah. Reference array’s out of spec.” Melissa’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Jake’s jaw tightened. “I guess even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

A couple of students who had been listening looked at Peter with new interest. “How did you see that so fast?” One of them asked.

Peter shrugged. “I’ve worked with similar rigs. The error pattern looked like something I’d seen before.”

Flash rolled his eyes. “He guessed and got lucky.”

Raj shook his head. “That wasn’t a guess.” He said. “You don’t jump straight to a reference fault if you don’t know what you’re looking at.”

“Guess Stark’s charity case watches more than he talks.” Melissa said. Her tone was light, but the words cut. “That’s useful. Every lab needs someone who pays attention.”

“Someone’s got to keep your coffee orders straight.” Jake added.

A few kids laughed again. The small moment of respect from Raj didn’t get a chance to grow; the senior interns smothered it under another joke about running errands.

Mr. Harrington either didn’t notice or pretended not to. “That was very impressive, Peter.” He said, smiling like a proud teacher. “See, class? This is what happens when you pay attention in science.”

Peter wanted to sink into the floor.

“Anyway.” Amanda said briskly, cutting off any further talk about that. “We’ll move on to one more lab on this floor, then take you to see a demonstration space that’s been prepared for visitors. Remember, what you’ve seen here is still simplified. The real heavy work happens in other parts of the building.”

“Where he doesn’t go.” Jake muttered under his breath.

Peter heard it anyway. They were herded toward the door. As the group shuffled out, Flash fell into step beside Peter.

“Wow.” Flash said. “You’re really killing it as the coffee guy, Parker. ‘Charity intern saves the day with his little sensor trick.’ That’s cute.”

“You heard what he said.” Ned snapped. “He knew what he was talking about. Those guys are just mad.”

“Mad they worked to get here?” Flash said. “And he got dragged in because Stark has a soft spot for sad cases? Yeah, I’d be mad too.”

“You don’t know anything about how he got here.” MJ said, joining them. Her voice was low but steady. “You just like the version where you get to feel bigger.”

Flash looked between the three of them, scoffed, and dropped back into the group, calling out to someone else like he was bored. They stepped back into the hallway. The door to Lab 4B closed behind them with a quiet click.

Amanda led them farther down, talking about the history of the floor and the way projects cycled through, but Peter barely heard her. The words from inside the lab ran loops in his head.

He knew none of them had the full picture. They didn’t see the hours in Tony’s lab, the simulations, the late nights trying to get equations to balance. They didn’t know about the times Tony had handed him a problem and trusted him to solve it. They saw the badge, the access, the way the building reacted to him, and filled in the rest with resentment.

Ned leaned closer. “You okay?” He asked quietly.

“I’m fine.” Peter said.

MJ looked at him. “You don’t have to pretend that didn’t suck.”

“It’s easier if they think I’m just support.” Peter said. “If they knew everything, it would be worse.”

“I don’t know how it gets worse than ‘charity coffee bitch.’” MJ said.

Peter almost laughed at that, just because of how blunt it was. It came out more like a breath. Ahead of them, Amanda scanned into another room.

“Alright.” She said, raising her voice. “Next stop. Let’s keep moving.”

Peter followed, badge against his chest, caught between his classmates and the interns who resented him. Every step felt like he was walking a little further into a fight he hadn’t asked for, in a place he’d thought of as the one spot where he didn’t have to prove he should be there. Today, that was gone. Today, every eye in the building seemed to be measuring whether he deserved his spot. He wasn’t sure what answer they were going to land on.

Amanda’s badge beeped and the door unlocked with a soft click.

“Alright.” She said, raising her voice so it carried. “Last stop on this floor.”

The second lab was bigger than the first. The ceiling was higher, with track lights angled down over a workspace in the center of the room. A tall safety glass barrier separated the main walkway from a fenced-off testing area. Inside that space, a robotic arm sat bolted to a metal platform. Cables ran from its base to a bank of consoles and diagnostic screens. The arm itself had multiple joints, each encased in sleek metal, with a tool attachment where a hand should have been.

The students’ interest spiked immediately. The front cluster pressed closer to the glass.

“Whoa.” Ned whispered. “Okay, that’s pretty cool.”

“Please stay behind the barrier.” Amanda said. “Hands off the glass. This is an active testing environment.”

There were two senior interns in this lab, both in their mid-twenties. One was a tall guy in a Stark hoodie and ID badge clipped to his pocket, brown hair tied back. The other was a woman with tightly braided hair and a lab coat over a Stark t-shirt. They were standing near the control consoles, talking quietly. Both looked up when the group came in.

“Everyone, this is Chris Alvarez and Lauren Park.” Amanda said. “They’re senior interns assigned to the robotics testing division. They’ve prepared a controlled demonstration for you.”

Chris gave a short nod. “Hey. Welcome to the floor where we try not to break extremely expensive things.”

A few kids laughed. Lauren smiled, polite and tight.

“We do a lot of calibration and motion testing here.” She said. “This rig is one of our modular arms used to simulate different end-use environments. Industrial, medical, that sort of thing. Today we’ll just be doing a basic movement pattern.”

Amanda moved to the side, letting Chris take over.

“First reminder.” Chris said. “This is not a toy. If you see red lights, you do not cheer, you step back. If something looks like it’s about to fall, you still don’t touch it. Understood?”

“Yes.” The group chorused.

Peter stayed toward the middle again, Ned on one side, MJ on the other. The glass reflected their faces, mixing them with the machinery beyond. He recognized the model of the arm; a slightly older generation than the one Tony preferred in his lab, but the joint architecture was familiar. Lauren tapped a few commands on the console. The screens lit up with readouts. A faint whir came from the base of the arm as it powered fully.

“Alright.” She said. “We’re going to run a simple pattern. Joint one rotation, joint two lift, joint three extension. Keep your eyes on the movement, and then we’ll talk about error margins.”

The first joint rotated smoothly, the arm base turning left, then right. The second joint lifted the upper segment in a clean arc. When the third joint tried to extend, the motion stuttered. The arm jerked, halted, jerked again, then froze mid-extension. A small orange warning light came on near the tool head. A few students let out small, disappointed sounds.

“Did it break?” One of the freshmen asked.

“Nothing’s broken.” Lauren said quickly. “That’s why we run tests.”

Chris frowned at the console. “We’ve been having an intermittent issue with the third joint calibration.” He said, mostly to Lauren and Amanda. “We thought we had it nailed earlier.”

Peter looked at the error readout over his shoulder. The angles and offsets flashed quickly in red, but the pattern was obvious if you’d seen it before. Joint three’s alignment was off by a consistent degree in the negative direction.

He leaned forward just a little. “Your offset is reversed.” He said, before he could stop himself. “It’s reading the correction the wrong way. That’s why it’s overshooting and locking.”

Chris glanced at him, then at the screen, then back at him. “What?”

Peter straightened. “Joint three.” He said, quieter now. “The correction angle. It’s mirrored. If you flip the sign, it should clear.”

A couple of the students close enough to hear looked at him, then at the console.

Flash snorted from somewhere to Peter’s left. “He just likes hearing himself talk.”

Lauren tapped quickly through a different menu. Her eyes moved from one figure to another, then she made a small face. “Huh.” She said. “The joint offset calibration is inverted. I thought we fixed that.”

She corrected the sign, entered a new set of commands, and reset the test. The arm went through the same sequence again. This time, when the third joint extended, it moved smoothly. No stutter, no lock, no warning light. There was a small ripple of impressed sound from the students.

“Nice.” One of the seniors said.

Ned nudged Peter lightly with his elbow. “Told you you’re smart enough to be here.” He murmured.

Chris let the arm finish its sequence. Then he turned from the console, expression shifting back into something more neutral.

“Like I said before.” He told the group. “We’re constantly dealing with calibration bugs. A lot of this job is pattern recognition. You see enough of the same error, you start recognizing what it looks like on a screen.”

“That’s what Peter just did.” One of the juniors pointed out. “He called it before you fixed it.”

For a second, it looked like Chris might give Peter that much credit. Then his gaze dropped to the intern badge on Peter’s chest. Something cooled in his eyes.

“He’s sat in on enough trials to recognize when something looks wrong.” Chris said lightly. “Anyone who watches long enough can parrot the obvious fix. That’s different from understanding the system.”

A few kids snickered. The mood shifted again, that small spark of respect smothered under the implication.

“So he’s like… a superfan.” One sophomore said. “He just reuses phrases he’s heard.”

“Exactly.” Lauren said. “He’s been allowed to observe some sessions. We encourage interest. But there’s a big difference between observing and actually managing the systems.”

Ned’s jaw tightened. “That’s not what happened and you know it.” He muttered.

“Ned.” Peter said, under his breath. “Don’t.”

MJ folded her arms. “You guys sure do panic fast when a fifteen-year-old spots something you missed.” She said.

Lauren gave her a thin smile. “I assure you, we didn’t ‘miss’ anything. We’ve been tracking that bug all week. Sometimes you let it run so you can see how consistent the error is. This was a controlled demonstration.”

“That’s not what you sounded like five seconds ago.” MJ said.

“MJ.” Mr. Harrington cut in nervously. “Let’s let them finish their presentation.”

He looked uncomfortable now, but not enough to say more than that. He clearly didn’t want to embarrass anyone from Stark Industries.

Chris turned back to the group at large, glossing over the exchange. “Anyway.” He said. “What you saw just now is a very simple example of why attention to detail matters. If you’re off by even a small amount in calibration, the entire system behaves unpredictably.”

He walked closer to the glass, gesturing to the arm. “We don’t let just anyone tinker with these. Not students, not junior interns, not high school visitors. It takes years of training and vetting before you can touch live systems unsupervised.”

His eyes flicked toward Peter just long enough for the implication to land.

“Then why is he allowed to be near them?” A freshman asked, genuinely curious. “If he doesn’t have the training?”

“We keep him away from anything serious.” Lauren said. “He’s not authorized to make changes. If he notices something, he can tell one of us, and we decide whether it’s relevant. That’s the difference between being support and being responsible.”

The word “support” landed like a label. MJ breathed out slowly through her nose. Ned looked like he wanted to start arguing with everyone in the lab at once.

Flash leaned back on his heels, enjoying every second. “So basically he just watches and repeats things.” Flash said. “That makes more sense.”

“You know that’s not what they said.” Ned snapped.

“Sure it is.” Flash said. “He’s their little mascot. They let him hang around, fetch things, and repeat buzzwords. It’s cute. Charity work.”

Chris didn’t correct him. Lauren didn’t either. Amanda remained silent, watching, her expression giving away nothing. Peter felt the weight of all of it in his chest. He knew how it sounded to everyone else. He knew how it looked. He had the Stark badge. He had FRIDAY greeting him. But every adult in the room with an “intern” label was lining up to tell his classmates he didn’t really count.

“Let’s move on.” Amanda said briskly. “We’re running on a tight schedule, and we still need to show you our demonstration space.”

“Before we go.” Harrington said, trying again to steer things back to the educational angle. “Could you talk a little bit about what a typical day looks like for an intern here? The students might be curious.”

Chris sobered, thinking. “Long.” He said. “There’s a lot of repetition. A lot of tests that don’t give you interesting results. You write more reports than you think you will. You take direction from engineers. You don’t pick your own projects. You have to prove you’re useful and that you won’t make costly mistakes. If you’re lucky, you get to sit in on something cool now and then.”

Lauren nodded. “People see the Stark name and they imagine constant fireworks.” She said. “The reality is, most of this is slow work. Detail work. Supporting the bigger picture without being the center of it. Not everyone handles that well. Some people come in with… unrealistic expectations.”

Her eyes brushed Peter like a quick cut.

“Is that why you keep him around?” MJ asked suddenly. “So you feel better about yourselves?”

A hush fell over the cluster close enough to hear.

Lauren’s brows rose. “Excuse me?”

“You’re all very quick to tell us how unimportant he is.” MJ said. “And yet you all know exactly who he is, what badge he wears, and where he stands. That’s a lot of attention for someone you say doesn’t matter.”

Amanda stepped in. “We’re not saying he doesn’t matter.” She said carefully. “We’re saying you need to understand that being in this building doesn’t automatically put you on the same level as someone with a degree, or someone who’s gone through formal channels. There are hierarchies in every workplace. It’s important you get used to that idea now.”

“And Peter is at the bottom.” Flash said. “Got it.”

Harrington cleared his throat loudly. “Okay.” He said. “Thank you, everyone. That was… very informative. Why don’t we let them get back to work and head to the next part of the tour?”

Amanda nodded once and gestured toward the door. “This way.” She said.

They filed back out, some students still whispering, a few looking back at the robotic arm with a mix of awe and confusion. Peter stayed in the middle of the group, eyes on the floor.

“That was bullshit.” Ned said under his breath, once they were in the hallway. “You fixed their arm. They know you fixed it.”

“They had already been working on it.” Peter said. “They would have gotten there eventually. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.” Ned said. “They made you look like an idiot in front of everyone when you were right. They’re just pissed because you’re younger than them.”

“Welcome to corporate America.” MJ said. “Where age and fake politeness matter more than competence.”

“I’m fine.” Peter said. He wasn’t, but he couldn’t think of what else to say without making it worse.

Flash walked past them just close enough for his shoulder to brush Peter’s. “Hey, charity case.” He said, low. “Nice try back there. Maybe someday they’ll let you hold a real screwdriver.”

MJ’s hand twitched like she wanted to grab him by the hoodie. Peter shook his head once, just enough that she saw it.

“Not worth it.” He said quietly.

“That’s debatable.” MJ muttered.

They followed Amanda down another corridor toward a pair of larger elevator doors. On the way, she spoke without turning around.

“The next floor is a demonstration space.” She said. “It’s specifically designed for visitors. The equipment there is either simulation-based or strictly controlled. It’s a safer environment for students.”

“Safer than what?” Ned asked. “The labs we just saw?”

“Safer for everyone.” Amanda said. “Including Peter.”

He felt the look some of the students gave him at that, like he was something fragile that needed protecting from his own badge.

“Why especially for him?” One of the juniors asked.

Amanda finally glanced back at him. “Because he’s not fully trained.” She said. “He’s still a kid. The more controlled the environment, the less likely he is to get in over his head.”

Peter’s jaw clenched. He didn’t argue. It wouldn’t matter. Ahead of them, where the hallway opened near the elevators, Happy stood near a corner, pretending to look at his phone.

He’d been shadowing the group since the first lab, keeping enough distance not to be obvious. At first, he’d just been doing his usual pass-through checks, making sure security was tight on a day with kids in the building. Then FRIDAY had pinged his earpiece.

“Happy?” Her voice had said quietly, on a channel only he could hear.

“Yeah.” He had murmured, without moving his lips much. “What’s up?”

“Peter Parker’s stress response has elevated considerably in the last ten minutes.” FRIDAY said. “Heart rate and cortisol markers are higher than baseline. He is currently with the Midtown High tour group.”

Happy had looked up at the camera in the corner automatically, as if he could see her.

“Define ‘considerably.’” He had said.

“Fifty-two percent above his normal range for this time of day and activity level.” FRIDAY answered. “He is exhibiting physiological markers consistent with sustained emotional distress.”

Happy’s fingers had tightened briefly around his phone. “Is he hurt?”

“No physical trauma detected.” FRIDAY said. “Verbal harassment flag triggered in Lab 4B and Lab 4D. Audio logs available on request.”

Happy had closed his eyes for a second. “Of course.” He had muttered. “Keep monitoring. Let me know if it spikes again.”

“Yes, Happy.” FRIDAY said.

He hadn’t called Tony. Not yet. Stark was off-site, buried in meetings that actually mattered on a global scale. Happy had seen enough to know this was the kind of thing Tony would drop everything for, and part of him wanted to make that call just to watch the fallout when Stark walked into one of these labs.

But Peter’s voice from other days floated back to him. “I don’t want to bother him with school stuff. He’s busy.”

So Happy watched instead. He watched Peter come out of one lab more withdrawn than he’d gone in. He watched interns smile at the teachers and then, when they thought no one official was listening, drag the kid’s credibility through the mud. He watched Flash’s grin get wider every time someone said the word “charity.” He hated it.

Now, as the group approached, he straightened a little. Peter saw him and hesitated, just for a second. Happy could see the question flicker in his eyes, do I say something, do I not?

“Hey.” Happy said, drifting a bit closer, addressing the group as a whole at first. “Everyone having a good time?”

There were scattered yeahs, a few nods. Some kids eyed his Stark security badge with interest.

Amanda gave him a polite, professional smile. “Mr. Hogan.” She said. “We’re just heading up to the demonstration floor.”

“Yeah, I heard.” Happy said. He glanced at Peter again. “Everything good, kid?”

Peter hesitated for half a heartbeat. “Yeah.” He said. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. Happy could see that clearly. The tight set of his shoulders, the way he wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. Kid had always been a terrible liar.

“FRIDAY?” Happy said quietly, under his breath.

“Yes, Happy?”

“Current stress level?” He asked.

“Forty-seven percent above baseline.” FRIDAY replied. “Slight decrease from peak, but still elevated.”

Happy exhaled through his nose. “Thanks.” He murmured.

“Anytime.” She said.

Amanda pressed the elevator call button. The doors slid open.

“Up we go.” She said. “Let’s keep the group together.”

The students began filing in. Happy stepped back, letting them pass, but didn’t move far. He was going with them now, technically out of the way, but close enough.

“Are you coming too?” Ned asked, surprised.

“Just making sure nobody gets lost.” Happy said. “Or touches anything they shouldn’t.”

His eyes flicked briefly to Flash as he said it. Flash pretended not to notice, but his posture changed, a little less bold.

Peter stepped into the elevator near the middle. Happy caught his eye one more time.

“If you need to tap out.” Happy said so quietly only Peter’s enhanced hearing would be able to pick it up. “You tell me. I’ll pull you.”

Peter swallowed. For a brief second, something like relief crossed his face. Then he shook his head.

“It’s okay.” He said. “We’re almost done.”

Happy didn’t believe that either. But he nodded once. “Alright.” He said. “I’ll be here.”

The doors slid shut. As the elevator started to rise, Peter stared at the numbers above the door. His own reflection looked back at him faintly in the polished metal. Behind him, Flash whispered something to one of the other kids. Someone snorted. Amanda started another practiced explanation about Stark’s commitment to education. Peter tuned most of it out. Happy stood near the control panel, arms folded, eyes on the group like a quiet wall. In his ear, FRIDAY’s voice stayed present, a low, constant awareness.

“Monitoring.” She said. “I will alert you of any significant change.”

Happy nodded once. He didn’t know exactly how this was going to end yet. But he knew one thing for sure. Whatever these interns and kids thought was going to happen, they weren’t going to get to tear Peter down in Tony Stark’s building without someone pushing back. If Tony couldn’t be here yet, Happy could. He would watch and he would wait for the moment that he needed to pull in Tony to take care of things. The elevator kept rising, carrying them all toward the next floor, the next round, the next line Peter was going to be shoved up against.

The elevator doors slid open onto a floor that didn’t look like a lab at all. This space was open and polished, more like an exhibit hall than anything Peter associated with work. Wide glass panels broke the room into sections. Holographic displays hovered over podiums, cycling through clean Stark Industries infographics. Along one wall, there was a row of simulation stations with ergonomic chairs and large curved screens. To the right, behind reinforced glass, was a contained testing chamber about the size of a small classroom. Inside it, mounted on a track system and suspended from the ceiling, was a sleek white drone with four rotors and a compact central body. A few students let out quiet sounds of awe. Even MJ’s eyes tracked the holograms for a second longer than usual.

“Welcome to one of our demonstration floors.” Amanda said as they stepped out. “This space is designed to showcase non-classified technology for visitors and partners. The equipment here is either simulation-based or fully controlled, with additional safety measures in place.”

“Looks like a sci-fi museum.” Ned muttered, not quite quietly.

“It’s fine.” MJ said. “If you ignore the corporate branding every two feet.”

Logos were everywhere. Stark’s name, Stark’s tower outline, mission statements about innovation and the future. Peter had walked through this floor a few times with Tony, usually moving fast on their way somewhere else. They didn’t spend time on the demos. Most of them were watered-down versions of systems that existed in far messier forms in the real labs.

“Over here.” Amanda gestured toward the glass-walled chamber. “We have a live hardware demonstration set up. You’re going to see one of our prototyped support drones in action.”

“Please tell me it flies.” One of the freshmen said.

“It flies.” Amanda said. “But remember. Even in a controlled environment, this is active hardware. You will stay behind the barrier.”

She led them to the reinforced glass. The drone hung there in the chamber, inert for now. Up close, Peter could see the small camera array at the front, the adjustable hinges on the motor arms, the vents for the cooling system. It was compact and efficient. He had seen the design notes for the broader program in Tony’s lab once. Stark had muttered about “assistance units that don’t suck” and sketched for an hour.

Two interns were already in the demo space, standing near the main console just outside the chamber. One was a guy in his mid-twenties with short dark hair and a badge that read Evan Ross, Sr. Intern – Robotics. The other was a woman around the same age, hair pulled back in a bun, her badge reading Lena Grant, Sr. Intern – Systems.

Evan pushed his hands into his pockets as the group came closer. “So this is the famous Midtown group.” He said. “Top of the class, right?”

“Top-ish.” Ned whispered.

Lena smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her gaze flicked over the students slowly, cataloguing them. When it landed on Peter, it stayed there a little too long. She saw the different badge. Peter saw the recognition in her face and then, just as quickly, the decision to look past it.

“Thank you for being here.” Lena said. “We know it’s a big deal to be pulled out of class for anything. So we wanted to show you something a bit more… fun than spreadsheets.”

“This drone.” Evan said, stepping closer to the glass. “Is one of our support unit prototypes. The goal is to assist first responders in the field. It can map environments, carry lightweight supplies, run basic analysis on air quality and structural integrity, that sort of thing. Eventually, multiple units like this would work together in disaster zones.”

“That’s so cool.” Betty said, already angling her phone around Mr. Harrington’s shoulder to try and get a shot through the glass without looking too obvious.

“We’re going to run a very simple demonstration.” Lena said. “Pre-programmed flight path, obstacle avoidance, basic scan. Nothing you’re seeing here is classified. It’s all visitor-friendly.”

“So this is like the PG-13 version.” MJ said quietly.

“You’d need a graduate degree to even read the R-rated version.” Evan said, catching the tail end of that. His tone was light, but his eyes went back to Peter when he said it. “What you’ve seen so far on the tour is already more than most high schoolers ever get. The actual engineering work happens in environments that aren’t exactly field trip ready.”

“Is that why he doesn’t get to see it?” Flash asked, nodding toward Peter. “He just gets the pretend stuff too?”

A few kids snickered. Amanda didn’t correct him.

Lena’s mouth curved, but it wasn’t friendly. “Peter’s a support intern.” She said. “He’s allowed to observe certain things when it’s convenient, but he’s not part of the core engineering team. We don’t put high school students in charge of anything that matters.”

“Not if they actually care about safety.” Evan added.

Peter stared at the drone and said nothing. His chest felt tight again.

Ned shifted beside him. “They’re really committed to pretending you’re useless.” He muttered.

“It’s fine.” Peter said. It wasn’t, but arguing would make it worse.

Mr. Harrington, either not hearing or pretending not to, smiled brightly at the two interns. “We’re very grateful you’re taking the time to show this to our students. I know they’ve been excited about this all week.”

“Good.” Lena said. “Let’s give you a show then.”

She turned back to the console and started typing. On the screen nearest them, a wireframe of the chamber appeared, along with a plotted path in blue.

“Evan.” Lena said. “Load demonstration routine Gamma-Three.”

“Gamma-Three loaded.” Evan confirmed. “Simulation field ready. Safety protocols engaged.”

The drone in the chamber hummed as its systems powered up. The rotors started to spin slowly, picking up speed until the unit lifted off its cradle. It hovered in place for a second, stabilizing.

“There we go.” Evan said. “Lift is within acceptable range. We’re going to start the pattern now.”

He tapped a command. The drone tilted and moved forward, following the blue line on the screen. It banked left, rose, ducked under a projected obstacle, then rotated smoothly.

“This is boring.” One of the juniors said, under his breath.

“Most safe tech is.” MJ said.

The drone swung around the chamber again. For the first few seconds, everything looked fine. The movement was controlled, the distance from the glass steady. Peter’s shoulders started to loosen, just a little. At least this part might go without anyone taking a shot at him. On the third loop, he heard it. A slight difference in the pitch of one of the rotors. It wavered, like one motor was fighting the others instead of working with them. The drone corrected, then over-corrected, its body rocking. Lena’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. Her eyes narrowed at the readout.

“Is that supposed to happen?” A freshman asked.

“It’s fine.” Evan said. “We’re running load adjustments.”

The drone jerked sideways. It recovered, then twitched again, moving closer to the glass than the plotted path showed on the screen. A small warning icon appeared in the corner of the display, yellow and pulsing.

“Minor calibration issue.” Lena said quickly. “We’ve been tuning this build. It’s just a live example of why we test so many times.”

The drone dipped suddenly, then shot upward, narrowly missing a sensor node in the ceiling. The rotors whined louder, straining. The yellow icon flipped to red.

“Lena.” Evan said, voice low.

“I see it.” She said. She typed rapidly. “Drone, initiate soft reset. Return to baseline hover.”

The drone did not return to baseline hover. It spun left, hit one of the projected holographic obstacles, and the force of the avoidance code shoved it right back toward the glass. Peter flinched as the drone’s side slammed into the barrier with a sharp, echoing thud. The glass shuddered. A visible crack spidered out from the point of impact. Several students stumbled back. Someone yelped. Flash swore.

“Whoa!” Ned grabbed the back of Betty’s hoodie, pulling her away from the glass as a reflex.

“Everyone stay calm.” Amanda said quickly. “Step back from the barrier, please.”

Inside the chamber, the drone reeled back, rotors chopping the air unevenly. It was still flying, but the stability was gone. It jerked toward the opposite wall, then over-corrected and swung in another arc that brought it closer to the cracked section of glass. The drone spun again, faster this time. One rotor clipped an overhead sensor, sending a small piece of casing clattering to the floor. The body of the drone dipped dangerously. If it hit the crack again at the wrong angle, the glass might hold. Or it might not.

“Okay, everyone back.” Mr. Harrington said, voice higher than usual. “Back away from the glass. Now.”

Students shuffled further away, some ducking behind others, some half-thrilled, half-scared. The drone whipped past the cracked area again. The break in the glass spread another few centimeters. Happy was already moving. He stepped up alongside Peter, eyes on the chamber, body angled slightly in front of Peter, not enough to block him fully, but enough that if something did come at him Happy would be able to stop it and keep Peter’s identity a secret. His posture had changed; the relaxed, bored-chaperone stance was gone. This was the guy who used to run personal security for one of the most targeted men on the planet.

In front of the console, Evan’s hands were flying over the keys. “Reset, damn it.” He said. “Why isn’t it resetting?”

“Because your failsafe is tied into the same loop that’s glitching.” Lena said between her teeth. “If we hard cut power while it’s mid-compensation, it could slam into the wall.”

“That’s better than it slamming into the glass.” Evan shot back.

They were too focused on their own screen to notice the group of teenagers watching, or the way several of those teenagers had edged into full-on fear. Peter watched the readings flash past on the monitor from where he stood halfway back. He didn’t need to be right at the console to see what was happening. The stabilizer control values were chasing themselves in circles. The automatic compensation algorithms were still trying to correct for a misread from one of the sensors, and every time they got close, the conflict between local code and FRIDAY’s higher-level safety parameters kicked them into a new error state. It was the technical version of trying to steer in two directions at once. The drone lurched again, harder. One rotor clipped the glass. A fine spray of tiny shards flaked from the already fractured section and pattered down onto the chamber floor.

A freshman screamed. Someone else swore again. A couple of kids backed into Ned and MJ, pushing them closer to Peter.

“This is bad.” Ned said. “This is really bad.”

“They’re going to lose it.” MJ said. “They’re too busy arguing to fix it.”

Another hit like that and the glass might actually rupture. Even if the chamber absorbed the brunt of the drone’s energy, there was still a chance of shards, of someone being too close, of someone getting hurt. Peter’s pulse thudded against his ribs. He could stand there and watch. He could let the senior interns take another thirty seconds to argue about which part of their code was at fault. Or he could do something. His body moved before his brain finished the thought.

He pushed forward through the group, past Ned, past a couple of startled juniors. Harrington said his name, but Peter barely heard it. He stopped at the edge of the console area, just far enough that he could see the control layout clearly. He felt Happy’s eyes trailing after him, but he kept himself in front of Ned and MJ for now.

“Parker, get back.” Evan snapped without looking away from the screen. “This isn’t a school lab.”

Peter ignored him. He drew a breath and raised his voice so FRIDAY would hear him clearly over everything else.

“FRIDAY, emergency override.” He said. “Kill power to all drone thrusters and lock stabilizers. Authorization: Parker, zero-six-one, under Stark emergency protocol.”

For half a second, nothing happened.

Then FRIDAY said, in a tone that left no room for argument, “Emergency override accepted. Powering down drone thrusters. Engaging mechanical stabilizer lock.”

Inside the chamber, the drone’s rotors wound down in stages. The wild spin slowed. The rotors stopped fighting each other. The drone dropped, but not uncontrolled this time. A set of mechanical braces extended from the floor of the chamber, catching it in a cradle frame as it descended. It hit the mount hard enough to make a dull thump, but nothing cracked further. Nothing shattered. The unit sagged against the supports and then went still.

The room went quiet.

FRIDAY added. “Feedback loop terminated. No further collision risk detected.”

A couple of students exhaled audibly. Someone said, “Holy crap.” under their breath.

Peter forced his shoulders to unlock. He hadn’t realized how tight every muscle had been until now. On the console, the red warning icons flipped to yellow and then to a neutral white. Evan’s fingers hovered uselessly over the keys. Lena’s hands were still braced on the edge of the table.

Happy’s shoulders eased just slightly. He didn’t move away from his position, but his stance shifted out of immediate crisis mode. Mr. Harrington let out a laugh that sounded more like a cough. “Well.” He said. “That was… something.”

Evan finally turned his head. The look he gave Peter was anything but grateful. “What did you do?” He demanded. “You can’t just bark commands at our systems.”

“I shut it down before it broke the glass.” Peter said. His voice shook a little, but he kept it even as best he could. “Your stabilizer control was stuck in a loop. It was just going to keep hitting things harder. FRIDAY couldn’t override without a different authorization path.”

“You don’t get to decide when to use emergency protocols.” Evan said. “You’re a support intern on a school tour. You don’t touch my demo.”

“Consider this a learning experience then.” MJ said. “Like you said. Educational.”

Lena shot her a sharp look, then turned it on Peter. “You interrupted a controlled demonstration in front of visitors.” She said. “Do you have any idea how that looks?”

“Like you almost broke your own glass and maybe hurt someone.” Ned said. “And he stopped it. That’s how it looks.”

A few students nodded, slowly. Their adrenaline was still high enough that they were leaning more toward relief than anything else.

Lena forced a small laugh that didn’t sound natural. “Everything was still within safety margins.” She said. “This chamber is designed to withstand much worse impacts. We were already initiating shutdown procedures. FRIDAY would have assisted.”

“The drone had already hit the glass twice.” Peter said. “The crack was spreading. If it hit at the wrong angle again, you could have had a breach. You know that. FRIDAY was locked out of your local loop. I just gave her a path in. You don’t have the authorization to utilize FRIDAY that way. You should have called for a Department Head the second the drone hit the glass the first time.”

He wasn’t bragging. He wasn’t trying to. He was just stating the facts. Still, it felt like the wrong answer the second it left his mouth. Evan stepped around the console, coming closer. He didn’t get too close, not with a teacher, head of security and twenty students watching, but the anger was right there in his face.

“You think because Stark threw you a badge, you get to overrule protocols in front of an entire school?” He said. “You have no idea what the margins are. You have no idea what we had under control. You panicked and shouted, and now every one of these kids is going to walk out of here thinking they know more than the people actually doing the work.”

“Cut it out.” Happy said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the room anyway. “He prevented a bad situation from getting worse. And unless you want me to pull the security footage and show your supervisors exactly how close you were to losing that drone, I suggest you dial it back.”

Evan’s jaw flexed. He looked like he wanted to argue, but Happy’s badge carried more weight than his. He swallowed it.

Lena adjusted the sleeves of her lab coat. “We appreciate the enthusiasm, Peter.” She said. “But you’re not authorized to take control of live demonstrations. Next time, you stay with the group and let us handle our equipment. Understood?”

Peter could feel eyes on him from every direction. Some students looked impressed. Some looked like they weren’t sure what to think. Flash looked delighted, not at the drone being saved, but at the way the interns were talking down to Peter.

“Understood.” Peter said quietly. It wasn’t worth fighting them here.

“That looked like something out of a movie.” One of the freshmen whispered to his friend. “‘FRIDAY, shut it down.’ Boom. Done.”

“Yeah, but did you hear what they said?” Another kid replied. “He wasn’t supposed to do that.”

“He still did it.” The first one said. “And it worked. So why didn’t they do it?”

“He said they didn’t have authorization. But what does that mean that Peter did and they didn't?” another stage whispered.

Mr. Harrington cleared his throat and stepped in, doing his best to pretend nothing uncomfortable had just happened. “Well.” He said, clapping his hands together once. “That was an excellent demonstration of why safety protocols are important. Right, class?”

A few kids mumbled agreement.

“I think we’ve all had enough excitement for one session.” Amanda said. “We’re right up against our scheduled break anyway. Stark Industries is providing lunch on this floor. There’s a cafeteria area through those doors.” She pointed to a set of double doors on the opposite side of the room. “We’ll move there now.”

“Do we get to see anything else after?” Betty asked, still a little breathless. “Or is that the end of the tour?”

“There will be a short Q&A session after lunch.” Amanda said. “Then we’ll escort you back down to the lobby.”

She said it like a promise and a boundary. The implication was clear; this part of the day, the part where Peter existed in their workspace, was almost over. The group started to move toward the doors in clumps. Voices overlapped. A few kids reenacted the moment the drone hit the glass with hand gestures. One or two imitated Peter’s command to FRIDAY, badly.

Flash fell in step a little behind Peter. “Nice hero complex, Parker.” He said. “Maybe next time don’t scream at a building like it’s your dog.”

Peter didn’t look at him. “I didn’t scream.” He said. “I gave a command. It stopped the drone.”

“Sure.” Flash said. “You got lucky again. Broken clock and all that.”

“Three.” Ned shot back. “He’s been right three times today. That’s not luck.”

“Whatever.” Flash said. “Same charity badge, same fake job.”

He peeled off toward a group of seniors who were already joking about the crack in the glass. Peter exhaled slowly and kept walking.

Happy caught up to him near the doorway. “You okay?” He asked quietly.

“I’m fine.” Peter said. His default answer was starting to sound thin even to his own ears.

“FRIDAY.” Happy murmured under his breath.

“Yes, Happy?”

“Stress level?” He asked.

“Fifty-eight percent above baseline.” She replied. “Elevated, but trending downward after the drone shutdown.”

Happy’s mouth set in a line. “Log everything from this floor.” He said. “Flag it under security review.”

“Already done.” FRIDAY said. “Verbal harassment tags applied where appropriate.”

“Good.” Happy said.

He glanced at Peter again. The kid’s hands were shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie. His shoulders were tight, his eyes a little unfocused, like he was replaying the last few minutes on loop.

“You did the right thing.” Happy said. “You know that, right? They can be pissed all they want. It doesn’t change the fact that you kept people from getting hurt.”

“It wasn’t that big a deal.” Peter said. “I just… saw the loop.”

“None of them moved until the glass cracked.” Happy said. “That’s the big deal.”

Peter didn’t know what to do with that, so he shrugged one shoulder and let himself get carried with the tide of students into the next space. The cafeteria area was sleek and bright, with long tables and chairs arranged in neat lines. There were a few vending machines along one wall, but Stark had clearly decided to go further than that. A buffet-style spread was set up along a counter, with trays of sandwiches, bowls of salad, and rows of bottled drinks. A couple of staff members stood behind the counter, ready to help. The students reacted like, well, high school students who had just been told there was free food.

“This is awesome.” Ned said. “I would sell my soul for a Stark-funded lunch program.”

“You’d sell your soul for decent cafeteria pizza.” MJ said.

“Correct.” Ned said.

“Alright, everyone.” Ms. Warren said. “Form a line. Be polite. Don’t take more than you’ll eat. And remember, you’re guests.”

The line started forming almost immediately. Betty headed toward the front, phone out again, quietly narrating to herself under her breath like she was already editing her Midtown News segment in her head. Flash drifted toward the middle of the line, making sure he was surrounded by people who would laugh at his commentary. Peter hung back for a second, not eager to push into the rush. His appetite wasn’t exactly strong after the last hour. Ned stayed with him, and so did MJ.

“You should go ahead.” Peter said. “Before they run out of the good stuff.”

“I’m not leaving you to brood in a corner.” Ned said.

“I don’t brood.” Peter said.

MJ raised an eyebrow. “You absolutely brood. It’s like your primary hobby.”

He almost smiled. It faded quickly, but it was there for a moment. They joined the line eventually. When it was their turn, Peter put a sandwich and a bottle of water on his tray. He didn’t bother with much else. Ned loaded up like he was stocking for winter. MJ took a reasonable amount and an apple she rolled between her hands as they moved away from the counter.

Happy stood near one of the pillars, watching the room. He had a coffee from somewhere and his phone in his hand, but his eyes didn’t leave the students for long. Peter knew enough now to recognize the way Happy’s attention moved. He tracked Flash a little longer than others. He tracked the senior interns when they slipped in near the side to get their own food. He tracked Peter.

They picked a table a little off to the side, not too close to the cluster where Flash was already holding court, not so far that it looked like they were hiding. Peter sat down at the end. Ned took the chair on his right. MJ sat on his left, setting her tray down with a quiet thud. For a minute, they just ate. Or, Ned ate. MJ picked at her food. Peter stared at his sandwich more than he bit into it.

“You going to actually chew, or just study it?” MJ asked eventually.

“I’m eating.” Peter said, and took a deliberate bite.

“That was an intense chew.” Ned said.

“Shut up.” Peter said, but it came out with more tiredness than annoyance.

Nearby, someone said loudly, “I can’t believe that thing hit the glass,” and another person added, “Did you see his face when FRIDAY listened to him?”

“He sounded like Stark.” One of the freshmen said. “Like, ‘do the thing,’ and she just did it.”

“Bet his badge is just coded to say yes to whatever he wants.” Another kid replied. “Stark probably feels bad for him.”

At Flash’s table, the tone was different.

“He freaked out.” Flash said. “They had it under control and he just lost it.”

“You think?” One of the seniors asked. “The glass did crack.”

“It’s Stark glass.” Flash said. “You think they haven’t tested that a million times? They said it was within safety ranges. He just wanted to look important. It’s the only time anyone’s looked at him all day without laughing.”

A couple of kids laughed. The sound grated.

Ned’s grip on his plastic fork tightened. “I swear to God.” He said. “If I hear ‘charity’ one more time, I’m going to lose it.”

“You can’t punch someone in Stark Tower.” MJ said. “Happy will tackle you.”

“I’d like to see him try.” Ned muttered.

Happy, as if sensing his name, glanced briefly toward their table. Peter pretended to focus on peeling the label off his water bottle.

“You know they’re full of it, right?” MJ said. She wasn’t looking at him when she spoke; she was watching the room. “The interns. Flash. All of them. They know you know what you’re doing. That’s why they keep trying to push you down.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Peter said quietly. “I’m not here for them. I’m here for Mr. Stark. He’s the one who decides if I stay. Not them.”

“Yeah, well.” Ned said. “He picked you for a reason. They can’t change that.”

“They can change how everyone sees it.” Peter said. “At school. Here. It’s easier for people to believe I don’t do anything. That I’m just… around.”

“You fixed the arm.” Ned said. “You shut down the drone. You know you’re not just around.”

“That’s not how this works.” Peter said. “In a place like this, perception is… important. They’re senior interns. They have degrees, experience, all the stuff everyone expects. I’m the weird exception. So when they say I’m nothing special, people believe them.”

MJ chewed a piece of her apple slowly. “So what.” She said. “You’re supposed to stand there and nod while they rewrite reality?”

“What do you want me to do?” Peter asked. He kept his voice down, but the question came out sharper than he intended. “I can’t pull rank on them. I can’t stand there and say, ‘Actually, Tony Stark trusts me more than he trusts you.’ That’s not how this works either.”

He pictured Tony’s face if he ever tried that. It wasn’t a look he wanted to see.

“I don’t need them to like me.” Peter added. “I just need them to stop using me as a punchline.”

“Then at some point, you’re going to have to push back.” MJ said. “You don’t have to do it today. But at some point, it’s not going to be enough to just let them talk.”

Peter didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say that didn’t sound like either complaining or whining. He took another bite of his sandwich instead. It tasted like nothing.

At the pillar, Happy’s earpiece pinged softly.

“Happy?” FRIDAY said in his ear.

“Yeah.”

“Peter’s stress markers are decreasing, but he remains above baseline.” She said. “I have catalogued two additional instances of verbal harassment in the last five minutes.”

“I heard.” Happy said. His eyes slid toward Flash’s table. “Just keep logging it. And keep an eye on the Midtown feed. If any videos show up, I want to know.”

“Yes, Happy.” FRIDAY said. “I will alert you if any content containing Peter Parker and Stark facilities appears online.”

Happy took a slow drink of his coffee. He didn’t interfere with the kids’ conversations yet. They were on break. They needed to eat. Yanking Flash out of his seat in the middle of a Stark cafeteria would cause more of a scene than it would solve. But his patience had limits. He could feel them closer than they had been that morning.

At Peter’s table, Ned finally stopped glaring at his food long enough to eat some of it. MJ finished her apple and placed the core neatly on her tray. Peter drank half his water and managed to get through most of his sandwich.

“After this, it’s the Q&A, right?” Ned said. “Then back to school. Then we survive the gossip tornado on Monday.”

“Can’t wait.” Peter said dryly.

“It’ll blow over.” Ned said. “Eventually.”

MJ shook her head. “Not the way today’s going.” She said. “They’re going to talk about this for weeks.”

“Great.” Peter said. “More time to be a walking rumor.”

“That’s not all you are.” MJ said.

Peter didn’t look at her, but he nodded once. It was easier than arguing.

Around them, the noise level in the cafeteria started to level out. Kids finished their food, their energy dipping from adrenaline to post-lunch sluggishness. Teachers checked their lists and watches. Amanda spoke quietly with one of the other Stark staff near the doors, glancing toward the students occasionally, her expression calculating.

Happy watched her too. He didn’t know exactly how Stark was going to take all of this when he eventually found out. But he knew one thing with absolute certainty. When Tony did hear about it, this version of the story, the one where Peter was “just support” and “charity”, wasn’t going to survive very long.

For now, though, it was still Peter sitting at the table, picking at the edge of a napkin, carrying the weight of it by himself with two friends and one quietly furious bodyguard as backup. Lunch would end. The questions would start. The day would move forward. But something had already shifted, and there was no going back to the version of the field trip where this was just a fun reward for good grades.

XXX

The conference room was quiet at first, too quiet. No machinery humming, no holograms flickering, no high-pressure energy fields threatening to explode. Just rows of chairs, a large display at the front, and thirty high-achieving high school students who had suddenly run out of things to gawk at. Peter sank into a seat near the middle at the back. Ned sat on his right, MJ on his left. Flash took the front row, of course.

Amanda stood confidently at the front, tablet tucked under her arm. Raj leaned against a table, arms crossed. Jake and Melissa sat a few seats over from Amanda, watching like they were waiting for an excuse to roll their eyes. Lauren, Chris, Evan and Lena all sat along the table and it was clear they would have rather been anywhere else.

“Alright.” Amanda began. “This is your chance to ask questions about what it’s like working in R&D here. Intern experience, project flow, that sort of thing. We’ll keep things focused and professional.”

Betty’s hand flew up immediately. “What’s the hardest part of working here?”

“Deadlines.” Raj said. “Everything is moving. Always. You don’t meet them? Someone else will.”

“Also the hours.” Melissa added. “Don’t expect a social life.”

A senior raised his hand. “Do you get to meet Tony Stark?”

Jake laughed. “No. We report to our supervisors. They report to department heads. Those people report up to Stark. He’s… above our pay grade.”

Flash smirked and turned around to stare directly at Peter as he asked the next question. “So you’ve never even seen him?”

Evan shook his head. “Maybe a glimpse if you’re lucky.”

Another student raised their hand. “Do you get paid?

“We do. Interns get paid pretty well.” Lauren added. “Twenty-one an hour, up to forty hours a week in summer.”

Someone gasped. “Do you think Peter makes that?”

Peter stiffened in his seat.

Lena shrugged. “He doesn’t get paid.” She said lightly. “When you are too inexperienced and not properly educated, the salary reflects your worth.”

Ned leaned toward Peter. “Dude, you don’t get paid?”

Peter whispered back. “Technically I do. It all goes into a trust that May and Mr. Stark set up. I saw the paperwork, I make fifty an hour. And Mr. Stark covers all our food. He made sure I was added to the benefits package and May as well, so we are fully covered healthwise. And any supplies I want for any of my tech I can get it here for free.” He tried not to sound embarrassed. It still felt like too much.

“Dude.” Ned softly whispered, completely impressed and blown away.

Flash gave a cruel little grin. “So it is charity.”

Ned’s jaw clenched. “You have no idea what he does here.”

“Oh, we do.” Chris cut in smoothly. “Every lab needs support interns. Peter’s helpful with the smaller tasks that keep things clean and organized.”

MJ snorted quietly. “Yeah, I’ve seen him organize a million-dollar piece of tech back into working order.”

Jake glared. “Look, not every intern has the same potential. Some of us are gearing up for full engineering roles. Others…”

“Are here to learn what they can handle.” Melissa finished. “And that’s okay. There’s no shame in knowing your lane.”

Peter stared at the floor, heartbeat loud in his ears. The worst part? If he defended himself, if he told the truth, he’d sound like he was bragging. He’d sound exactly like Flash always said he was. So he stayed quiet.

Mr. Harrington, sensing the tension, clapped his hands. “Maybe let’s take a few more general questions?”

A freshman raised her hand. “How do you get from intern to full-time employee?”

Raj launched into a polished answer.

“Well.” He said. “There’s a structure to things here. You don’t just jump into developing weapons or new clean-energy systems on day one. First, you go through onboarding, safety regulations, software training, protocols for handling prototypes. A lot of that is tedious, but if you skip it, someone can get hurt.”

He gestured casually toward the lab hallway they’d just toured. “Then you’re assigned to a support team, usually under a senior engineer or project lead. We handle data verification, build logs, calibration, material prep… all the stuff that keeps the work running straight while the core engineering teams handle the bigger conceptual breakthroughs.”

A few students nodded like they understood, even if it was only half true.

“As you prove yourself.” Raj continued. “You get recommendations for more advanced tasks. You might be allowed to assemble components, contribute small segments of code, supervised, of course. Eventually, if you’re here long enough and earn it, you can get your name on a published project. That’s how intern portfolios are built.”

One of the kids in the front leaned forward. “So how long does that take?”

Raj smiled. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Years. For me? I interned through undergrad, got asked back during my master’s program, then again after some publication credits. The big jumps don’t happen until you’ve put in the work, and earned the trust of the higher-ups.”

“Once you work your way up to senior intern and have completed your schooling, then you can apply for lab assistant positions. And the work starts all over again. You go from the bottom and work your way up to the top. If you are talented enough and have proven yourself, you can then apply for Lab Director and then eventually Department Director.” Amanda added. 

Peter stared at his hands. He knew that road. Every rung. Every expectation. He just… hadn’t climbed them the normal way. Tony had pulled him past half the ladder and dropped him directly into the deep end, into a lab most post-docs would kill to see, much less work in. Peter didn’t feel proud of that. He felt… out of place. Different. But he was also proud of the work him and Tony were doing. Peter knew his path was going to be different because he was Spider-Man. One day he would be an Avenger and be responsible for building the tech that was needed when Tony was gone. They didn’t have the time for Peter to do things in a traditional sense. They had to get him ready and the best way to do that was directly under Tony’s mentorship. 

Flash muttered under his breath, “Exactly. Years. Not… whatever this is.” jerking his chin toward Peter.

Ned shot Peter a look, a quiet reminder in his eyes:

You didn’t skip anything. You earned being here.

Peter wished he could believe that as easily as Ned did.

“Alright. We’ll be joined by several department heads in a moment. Please remain seated.” Amanda said, as she checked her watch.

The tone in the room changed instantly. Raj straightened. Melissa, Lauren and Lena smoothed their hair. Jake and Chris sat up straighter, adjusting their lab coats, suddenly very professional. The door slid open, four people in tailored suits stepped in, all wearing high-level clearance badges. Authority radiated from them in a way even the students felt.

“Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Abigail Rowe, Director of Energy Innovations here at Stark Industries.” She gestured to the others. “This is Director Lewis from Bio-Tech, Director Chen from Drone Systems, and Director Alvarez from AI Infrastructure.”

Even Flash sat up straighter.

“These interns you’ve met today.” Dr. Rowe said, nodding toward Amanda and the others. “Play crucial supporting roles that allow us to tackle world-changing problems.”

Ned whispered to Peter. “Hey, she seems nice.”

Peter tried to smile. It didn’t quite reach. “She is actually. They all are.”

Director Chen took a step forward. “We know you’re interested in STEM. So, ask us what you’d ask if you were applying to work here for real.”

A hand shot up from one of the freshmen. “What’s the coolest thing you’re working on?”

Director Alvarez chuckled. “Most prototypes are classified. But I can tell you this, we are currently improving AI ethics screening. Teaching intelligent systems how to assess risk to human life proactively instead of reactively.”

MJ looked actually impressed. “Is that like, preventing Ultron?” She asked.

A few older students tensed, remembering headlines.

Alvarez nodded. “That’s a fair way to put it. Mistakes teach us, and we learn fast.”

Another student asked Director Lewis. “How do you test new tech safely?”

“A lot of planning.” Lewis replied. “If something fails during testing, it’s because we prepared for that failure. Safety means assuming every scenario could go wrong.”

His gaze drifted briefly toward Peter, who knew exactly what he meant. Tony had trained him on that principle relentlessly. Director Rowe took a question next.

“What do you look for in future employees?”

“Curiosity.” She said instantly. “Dedication. And humility. We don’t care where you come from, only what you’re willing to work for.” She didn’t look at Peter directly, but he felt seen anyway.

A couple of students nodded, taking mental notes. MJ’s eyebrow ticked up just slightly, she caught where the emphasis landed. Peter did too.

Calder glanced toward the back. “Last question before we have to let these interns get back to work.”

A senior with a robotics club patch on his backpack shot his hand up. “What if we want to design our own prototypes? Does Stark Industries allow interns to pitch ideas?”

Melissa actually laughed before she covered it with a cough. Amanda stepped in smoothly.

“You build credibility first.” She said. “Original designs require oversight, funding, risk assessment. If you come in expecting to change the world on day one, you’re going to be disappointed.”

“But if you put the time in.” Raj added, sounding more genuine than the others. “You’ll get there. Big ideas don’t mean anything without execution.”

Betty raised her hand shyly. “Do you need, like… perfect grades?”

Calder shook his head. “Not perfect. But strong. And more importantly, consistent effort. We look at passion projects, not just GPAs.”

Someone else called out. “Do you ever get to see Stark stuff before the public?”

Jake smirked. “Sometimes. But then we sign even more NDAs.”

That earned a few laughs.

Harrington stepped in, excited and anxious at the same time. “Students, this is a rare opportunity. Please show your appreciation…”

Before he could finish, Ned piped up with a genuinely curious question.

“What made you all want to work here?”

Melissa answered first. “Change.” She said simply. “If you want to be somewhere that pushes the world forward, you don’t settle for less.”

“Because this place chooses the best.” Jake added, chin lifting slightly. “And makes them better.”

Mr. Harrington clapped his hands together. “Alright, let’s gather our things. We’ll give Stark Industries back their conference room.”

Chairs scraped the floor as everyone stood, the excited chatter back in full swing, finally about science and internships and futures, not Peter. A tiny breath of relief escaped him. Students filed toward the door, teachers organizing them into a loose line. The department heads gathered their tablets and notes.

Calder gave the class a polite wave. “Good luck, Midtown. Maybe we’ll see some of you back here in a few years.”

A sharp click echoed. The door sealed itself shut. The lock light flashed red. The chatter died in a heartbeat.

FRIDAY’s voice filled the room, cool and controlled:

“All personnel remain seated. Effective immediately, this room is under internal security lockdown.”

Ms. Warren’s breath hitched. “Is this normal?”

Director Chen’s jaw tightened. “No. Not for tours.”

Students whispered, confused and scared.

Ned squeezed Peter’s arm. “Is this… Spider-Man stuff?”

Peter’s stomach sank. “I don’t know.” He didn’t feel any of his spidey sense going off though. He looked around and he couldn’t see anyone that was posing as a threat. 

Happy pressed a finger to the comm inside his ear and whispered.  “FRIDAY. What’s happening?”

“Boss has been notified and given orders for lock down.”

Happy knew that this was not going to be good. Obviously FRIDAY had felt it was best to alert Tony of what had been happening here and now Tony was on his way. Happy knew the man was across town so it was going to be easily a good thirty minutes, assuming he made good time, before he would arrive. Happy could feel the tension in the room and he looked over at Peter to see him looking back at him, the worry clear within his eyes. Happy gave him a reassuring smile and mouthed that it was ok, before he saw Peter’s shoulders relax slightly. Happy couldn’t help but wonder how long that semi-relaxation would last when Tony stormed into the room.

XXX

Tony Stark was bored. The kind of bored that made his teeth itch. He sat at the end of a long table in a downtown conference room with a dozen investors and compliance officers. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed off the city, but no one was looking at that. They were staring at a screen covered in charts and bullet points about “regulatory posture” and “documentation cycles.”

“…and as you can see.” A man in a gray suit said, laser pointer shaking slightly. “Our current backlog on environmental filings falls within acceptable tolerance, but there is some concern about the projected increase in…”

Tony tuned him out. He drummed his fingers once on the arm of his chair, then stopped when Pepper’s voice from three days ago drifted back.

“You have to show up to at least some of these, Tony. Investors like stability. Regulators like predictability. You can’t send a hologram to every meeting.”

He hadn’t sent a hologram. He came in person. That should buy him at least a month. He glanced down at his watch. 1:34 p.m. Midtown’s field trip would be in full swing by now. He resisted the urge to pull up the live camera feeds. He’d made a point of not hovering. Peter needed to be able to function there without Tony leaning over his shoulder every second. Still, he told FRIDAY to monitor Peter’s vitals and flag anything that looked bad. Just in case.

The man in gray clicked to the next slide. “Now, regarding the revised audit schedule, we’ll need Stark Industries to certify…”

Tony’s watch vibrated once. Then again, harder. FRIDAY’s voice came quietly in his inner ear, routed through his implant, low enough no one else could hear.

“Boss, I have flagged footage from the Midtown tour for your review. Priority: high.”

Tony straightened slightly in his chair, the only sign anything had changed.

“Show me.” He murmured, barely moving his lips.

His glasses adjusted; a small transparent window appeared in the lower corner of his vision, overlaying the presentation he wasn’t listening to.

The first clip played. Lab 4B. Peter standing near the back of the group, shoulders in a little, badge visible on his chest.

Amanda’s voice came through. Calm, professional.

“Not everyone is cut out for the technical side. Some people are better at being… helpful.”

Melissa chimed in, light and sharp. “It’s nice of Mr. Stark to bring someone like him in at all. Charity starts at home and all that.”

Soft laughter from a few students.

The camera angle shifted slightly as someone’s phone moved. Flash’s voice cut across the room.

“Every lab needs someone to do the coffee runs.”

Peter’s face tightened. He didn’t answer. Ned turned toward him, clearly angry, but Peter shook his head.

Tony felt his jaw clench. He kept his expression neutral for the room in front of him.

“Next clip.” He said quietly.

The overlay changed. Lab 4D demo. The mechanical arm malfunctioning. Laurena nd Chriss talking down to Peter for easily spotting the error in the coding. Once again being talked down to. Told he was lucky, called a parrot, someone that was allowed to listen to important conversations and just repeated what he heard often enough. They were treating his intern as if he was nothing more than a moron that somehow managed to be kept around. The screen flickered to the final demonstration room. The misbehaving drone, the students backing away. He’d already seen the footage once from a safety alert, but this version had audio and more angles. The drone jerked in the air, motors whining. A couple of kids ducked. Peter stepped forward.

“FRIDAY, emergency override.” He said. “Kill power to all drone thrusters and lock stabilizers. Authorization: Parker, zero-six-one, under Stark emergency protocol.”

Tony couldn’t help the proud smile. Peter knew exactly what was wrong and how to correct it, plus how to address FRIDAY so she could do what needed to be done. 

Evan’s voice filled Tony’s ear. “You can’t just bark commands at our systems.”

“I shut it down before it broke the glass.” Peter said. “Your stabilizer control was stuck in a loop. It was just going to keep hitting things harder. FRIDAY couldn’t override without a different authorization path.”

“You don’t get to decide when to use emergency protocols.” Evan said. “You’re a support intern on a school tour. You don’t touch my demo.”

“You think because Stark threw you a badge, you get to overrule protocols in front of an entire school?” Evan said. “You have no idea what the margins are. You have no idea what we had under control. You panicked and shouted, and now every one of these kids is going to walk out of here thinking they know more than the people actually doing the work.”

From the side of the frame, Flash’s voice again, dismissive and loud.

“He guessed and got lucky.”

Ned leaned in toward Peter. The audio picked them up, close and quiet.

“You okay, man?”

“It’s easier if they think I’m just support.” Peter answered.

Tony’s fingers curled into his palm under the table. The compliance officer at the front hadn’t noticed anything. He kept talking, pointing at another set of numbers.

“…we’ll need Stark Industries to sign off on all partner-level attestations by the end of Q3, otherwise the agency could…”

“FRIDAY.” Tony said, under his breath, eyes still ostensibly on the slides. “Is that all?”

“No, Boss.” FRIDAY replied. “There are multiple segments of similar behavior from internal interns and student Flash Thompson. Pattern indicates escalating harassment. Peter’s cortisol levels are elevated. Heart rate remains above baseline. He has not withdrawn from the situation.”

Tony exhaled slowly through his nose. The quiet kind of anger settled in, not the loud, explosive kind. This was heavier. Sharper. He’d told the interns from day one: you do not touch the kid.

“Where are they now?” He asked.

“Conference Room 36C.” FRIDAY answered. “Final Q&A. Senior staff and department heads present. Field trip is scheduled to exit the room for the lobby in approximately eight minutes.”

Tony didn’t have eight minutes. He didn’t want this tour ending with Peter walking out of his own building thinking he was a joke.

“Lock it down.” He said.

“Please confirm.” FRIDAY said. “You are requesting a security lockdown of Conference Room 36C?”

“Yes.” Tony replied. “Immediate lockdown. No one goes in or out until I get there. Teachers, students, interns, directors. Everyone stays put.”

“Understood.” FRIDAY said. “Initiating lockdown.”

On his HUD window, he saw it happen. The door indicator on the conference room frame turned red. Inside, heads turned as the locks engaged. The audio picked up FRIDAY’s building-wide voice.

“All personnel remain seated. Effective immediately, this room is under internal security lockdown.”

There was a burst of confused voices, too layered to make out. Peter’s head snapped toward the door. Happy, visible near the wall, already had one hand to his earpiece. The man in gray at Tony’s real-world table cleared his throat.

“Mr. Stark?” He said, a little nervous. “We were hoping to get your perspective on the proposed compliance cadence for…”

“No.” Tony said.

Half the room flinched at how flat his voice came out.

“I’m sorry?” The man asked.

“No, you’re not.” Tony said, standing up and smoothing his jacket. “Look, you’ve got your charts, you’ve got your bullets, congratulations. I am officially aware of the thing and I will sign the other thing. Great talk.”

“Mr. Stark, we haven’t finished…”

“I have.” Tony said. He didn’t raise his voice, but there was no give in it. “You want predictability? Here it is. I predict if I stay here any longer while my building is a mess, we’re all going to have a very bad week. Meeting adjourned.”

No one followed him to the door. Out in the hallway, away from investor eyes, he tapped his watch. Nanotech deployed up his neck and down his arms in a smooth, practiced wave. In seconds he was in the suit, helmet open for now.

“FRIDAY.” He said. “Call Happy.”

“Connecting.” FRIDAY replied.

There was a faint click, then Happy’s voice came through, a little muffled, like he was trying to talk low.

“Boss?”

“You in the room?” Tony asked, already heading for the stairwell to the rooftop exit.

“Yeah.” Happy said. “Back wall. Kids are confused. Teachers are trying not to freak out. Directors look like they’re waiting for a memo from God.”

“And Peter?” Tony asked.

Happy didn’t answer right away.

“Happy.” Tony prompted.

“He’s holding it together.” Happy said. “On the outside. On the inside… I don’t know. He looks… small. Like he wants to disappear. He hasn’t said anything since the last round of questions.”

Tony’s jaw tightened. “Anyone still running their mouths?”

“Not right now.” Happy said. “They know something’s up. Before the lockdown, those interns were pushing it. That Jake guy especially. Amanda hasn’t been stopping it all day, and she should know better than any of them. That Thompson kid kept poking at him too.”

“I saw enough.” Tony said. He pushed open the rooftop door and stepped out into the open air. “I’m on my way. Two minutes.”

“Got it.” Happy said. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“You always do.” Tony said.

He cut the call and closed the helmet. The HUD shifted to flight mode.

“Take me home.” He said.

The suit fired, lifting him off the rooftop in a clean arc. The city shrank beneath him. Traffic moved like slow lines of ants between buildings. Normally he’d enjoy the flight for at least a few seconds. Today his focus stayed locked on the Tower marker flashing on his display.

“FRIDAY.” He said. “Talk to me.”

“Peter remains seated.” FRIDAY reported. “Heart rate elevated, but not in danger. No one has attempted to force the doors. There is a great deal of speculation regarding the lockdown. Teachers are assuring students that everything is fine.”

“And the interns?” Tony asked.

“Internal interns are currently quiet.” FRIDAY said. “However, earlier segments indicate repeated undermining of Peter’s role and abilities in front of peers.”

“I watched them.” Tony said. His voice was low and steady. “Pull their files, all of them. Let me know if there is anything impressive in them.”

“Reviewing now.” FRIDAY confirmed.

“What about Thompson?” Tony asked.

“Flash Thompson has a growing pattern of antagonistic behavior toward Peter recorded on Midtown property.” FRIDAY said. “Today’s footage at the Tower adds to the record.”

“Good.” Tony said. “We’ll deal with him too.”

The Tower loomed closer, the top floors catching the light. He angled his flight, cutting speed as he approached a private balcony access near the mid-levels, out of sight of the main streets. He touched down with a dull thud. Plates of the suit folded back as he stepped through the secure door. By the time he reached the inner hallway, the nanotech had retracted into his watch again, leaving him back in the suit and tie he’d started the day in. It felt tighter around his throat now. Tony pulled at the tie to loosen it.

“FRIDAY, where exactly?” He asked, even though he already knew.

“Conference Room 36C.” FRIDAY said. “This hallway, third door on your left.”

As he walked, a few staff members glanced up, startled to see him there in the middle of a normal workday. No one stopped him. They moved out of the way quickly. The closer he got to the door, the more he could pick up through the wall. Muffled voices. A teacher trying to keep her tone calm. Someone asking if this was part of the tour. A department head saying they were sure it was just a precaution.

He stopped in front of the door to 36C. Through the narrow strip of security glass, he could see a slice of the room. Students clustered in their seats, some twisting around to talk. Mr. Harrington and Ms. Warren near the front, looking strained. A couple of department heads talking quietly near the corner. Happy stood against the back wall, arms folded, scanning the room.

Peter was in the middle rows, slouched down slightly in his chair. His hands were twisted together in his lap, fingers flexing and tightening like he was trying to keep them still. He wasn’t looking at anyone. Tony felt something settle in his chest. Decision. He’d made it the second he saw the first clip. Coming here in person just made it clearer.

“FRIDAY.” He said quietly.

“Yes, Boss?”

“Unlock the door when I put my hand on the panel.” He said. “Don’t open it. Just unlock it.”

“Understood.” FRIDAY replied.

He lifted his hand and set his palm flat against the sensor pad. The lock made a soft, solid click as it disengaged. For a moment, he didn’t move. He just stood there, one hand on the door, watching the small strip of Peter he could see through the glass. Then he took a slow breath.

“Alright.” Tony said, mostly to himself. “Let’s fix this.”

He pressed down on the handle. The door started to swing inward.

XXX

FRIDAY spoke overhead, clear and calm. “Please remain inside the room. This area is temporarily secured.”

Harrington turned toward the ceiling. “Secured? Why? What’s going on?”

FRIDAY did not reply, not that Peter expected her to. A quiet ripple of concern spread through the room. The directors formed a small huddle near the blank presentation screen. Their voices stayed low, but Peter’s advanced hearing still picked them up clearly. Dr. Rowe kept her tablet in hand, eyes scanning the lockdown alert. “Security says it’s localized to this room only.”

Director Chen nodded, worry showing in the tight set of his jaw. “No alarms elsewhere in the building. No active evacuation protocol.”

“So either there’s an unauthorized entry attempt…” Director Alvarez said.

“Or someone inside triggered a security flag.” Director Lewis finished. That possibility seemed to unsettle all of them.

The interns gathered in another cluster toward the back; Amanda, Raj, Melissa, Jake, Evan, Lena, Chris and Lauren. No one was smiling now. Raj checked the nearest door panel like Harrington had. Jake folded his arms tightly across his chest.

“First time we bring in a school group and now this.” Jake muttered. “Perfect.”

Amanda lowered her voice, not enough to keep Peter from hearing. “All morning has been a mess. It’s not a surprise something got flagged.”

“How much do you want to bet it has to do with Parker over there?” Lena tossed out.

“This doesn’t happen, so my money is on Parker being the cause of all of this. Maybe now we will finally be able to get rid of him.” Evan added and the others all gave a nod in agreement.

Peter stared at the floor. He hadn’t moved since sitting down. His badge rested on his chest, visible to anyone looking. He kept his hands locked together in his lap so no one would see them shaking.

Flash exhaled dramatically. “Okay, what did Penis Parker break now?”

Ned whipped around. “Shut up, Flash.”

Flash shrugged. “I’m just saying. He’s the only one here who already set off alarms.”

MJ leaned over the back of her chair. “You’re one comment away from me throwing this chair at your head.”

Flash rolled his eyes but stayed quiet.

Mr. Harrington stood stiffly in the corner, clutching his clipboard like a shield. Ms. Warren checked her watch three times within a minute. Several students pulled out their phones before remembering the NDA warnings and stuffing them away again.

Happy walked over to Peter and bent down behind Peter’s chair so he could speak to him. 

“You’re alright.” Happy said quietly.

“Are we in trouble?” Peter whispered back.

“No. There’s no breach. The doors should be unlocked soon. I need you to remember, that no matter what happens, none of it is on you. None of it is your fault.” Happy said, because he knew Peter was going to blame himself for whatever Tony was about to do once he arrived. 

Peter just gave a small nod and Happy knew that he would still blame himself, but he was hoping that Peter would be able to understand once Tony spoke with him. Happy stood back up and started to do some rounds to make sure no one was going to cause any problems.

A freshman near the windows raised his hand, even though no one had asked questions. “Are the Avengers coming?”

“No.” MJ said immediately. “The Avengers have better things to do than babysit a field trip.” A few students laughed nervously at that, thanks more to tension than humor.

Raj stepped around the interns’ huddle, trying to sound confident for the students gathered closest to him. “Sometimes Stark Tower seals a room if there’s a system update or a minor security flag. It’s probably nothing major. We just wait.”

Jake scoffed under his breath. “If it was nothing, they’d tell us why.”

Melissa frowned toward the double doors. “What if someone tried to get inside the building without clearance?”

“Then we wouldn’t be the only room locked.” Amanda replied. Her arms were crossed tight, eyes fixed like she was searching for any new movement in the room.

Peter kept his breathing slow. He counted each inhale and exhale in his head. He studied a tiny scratch in the varnish on the floor, focusing on that instead of the dozens of eyes he could feel drifting toward him.

Ned leaned closer. “Seriously… are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Peter answered quietly. “Just want this to be over.”

MJ nodded once, like she understood perfectly.

Harrington walked toward the department heads. “Is there something we need to prepare the students for?”

“No.” Director Chen said. “Please remain calm and continue seated. We’re waiting for confirmation.”

Harrington returned to the group looking like that answer helped nothing. A student near the front raised her hand. “Are we in danger?”

“We don’t have any information that suggests that.” Mr. Harrington said. He forced firmness into his tone. “Everyone just stay seated. We will be told something soon.”

Across the room, Flash leaned toward one of his friends. “If Stark finds out his charity intern messed something up…”

“Flash.” Happy’s voice was even and quiet, but more effective than shouting. Flash’s mouth snapped shut.

Peter glanced at Happy, surprised at how steady he sounded.

Happy didn’t look away from Flash. “I suggest you keep your thoughts to yourself. All of them.”

That bought at least a few minutes of silence. Minutes stretched. Students fidgeted. Chairs scraped lightly when someone shifted. No one tried the doors again. They all knew they wouldn’t open. The department heads stopped talking. They stood straighter and looked toward the front exit, not at the doors, but past them. Like they were waiting for someone. Peter noticed it too. His heart thumped once, a little too hard. No alarms.
No FRIDAY updates. Just… waiting. He didn’t know how, but he could feel it building, something was happening outside the walls. Happy stopped walking and tapped his earpiece once. His expression stayed neutral, but his whole posture changed from casual to ready.

Ned followed the movement and looked at Peter again. “He’ll handle it.” Ned whispered.

Peter nodded once, barely moving. Because he felt it too. Tony was coming. And once he walked through those doors…nothing about this visit would stay quiet anymore.

XXX

The lock disengaged with a sharp click that cut straight through the low murmur of the room. Heads lifted almost in unison. Chairs shifted. A few students sat up straighter without realizing they were doing it, nerves snapping tight as everyone’s attention dragged toward the doors. Flash’s knee bounced faster now, his earlier confidence thinning into something restless. One of the senior interns let out a breath that sounded almost relieved, muttering something under his breath about it being over.

The doors opened slowly, just enough to break the seal of the room.

Tony Stark stepped inside.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t hesitate. One measured step forward, then another, as the doors slid shut behind him with a quiet finality that felt louder than any alarm. His presence changed the air instantly. Conversations died mid-thought. The interns went still. Even the department heads stopped talking, their attention pulled to him whether they wanted it or not. The students, once worried and scared at who could be entering the room, were now flooded with relief and excitement. This was The Tony Stark, here in front of them. It was a dream come true.

Tony’s gaze swept the room once, sharp and assessing, taking in the students, the interns, the teachers, the way Peter sat unmoving in his seat. His expression didn’t give anything away. No anger on the surface. No humor either. Just calm, focused control.

The kind that meant someone had already crossed a line. He took a few steps into the room and stopped, hands loosely at his sides, posture relaxed in a way that made it worse. His eyes moved slowly, deliberately, taking in the packed conference table, the students clustered together, the interns lined along the far side, the teachers standing stiffly near the door. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look rushed. He looked like he was cataloging the damage.

Dr. Abigail Rowe was the first to recover. She straightened, smoothing a hand over the front of her blazer. “Mr. Stark.” She said carefully. “We weren’t informed you’d be joining us. This was meant to be a student Q&A.”

Tony’s mouth curved slightly, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah.” He said. “I heard.”

Director Chen glanced between Tony and the closed doors. “Is there… some kind of issue? We assumed the lockdown was precautionary.”

“It is.” Tony said. “Just not for the reason you think.”

A ripple of unease moved through the room. The interns shifted, glancing at one another. Whatever confidence they’d carried earlier was gone now, replaced with the sudden awareness that this had escalated far past them.

Tony finally looked toward the middle of the room. Peter was still seated exactly where he’d been when the doors locked, hands folded in front of him on his lap, shoulders drawn in just slightly. He hadn’t moved. He hadn’t spoken. His face was carefully blank, but the tension in him was obvious if you knew how to look.

Tony held his gaze for a second longer than anyone else in the room noticed.

“You okay?” He asked, voice quieter, meant only for him.

Peter nodded once. It took effort. Tony’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He turned back to the room, expression settling into something colder, sharper.

“Alright.” He said evenly. “Before we continue pretending this is a surprise guest lecture, I want to be very clear about why I’m here.” Silence pressed in around the room.

Tony rested one hand on the back of the nearest chair, fingers curling around it without sitting. “You know it never ceases to amaze me how so many so-called smart people always forget that FRIDAY records everything. From the second you walk into the building to the second you leave it, she sees everything. There are no blind spots, no amount of soft whispering you can do. My girl picks it up and she logs everything.” His eyes flicked toward the interns now, slow and deliberate. He could see the realisation starting to settle in. That moment where someone realises how badly they screwed up and their mind is going a mile a minute to try and figure out how they can get themselves out of it. “I knew the kid had a field trip today. I made sure FRIDAY and Happy were keeping a close eye on him. I wanted to make sure he didn’t have any problems today. Imagine my surprise when I got interrupted in an important meeting because a group of employees forgot where they work, who they represent, and what kind of behavior this company does not tolerate.”

One of the interns opened their mouth, then closed it again when Tony’s gaze landed on them.

“I don’t know your names.” Tony continued calmly. “And I don’t care to learn them. That should tell you exactly how this conversation is going to go.”

The room went completely still. Even the hum of the air system seemed to fade into the background. Peter sat rigid in his chair, heart hammering, the weight of the moment settling over him like wet concrete. No one else in the room knew why Tony was really here. To them, this still might have been a surprise appearance, a corporate flex, a billionaire indulging a group of high-achieving students. Only Happy knew better. And only Peter could feel the full force of what was about to happen.

“Mr. Stark, clearly something has happened to upset you regarding out interns. I am not aware of any incident or situation that has come up during this field trip.” Director Chen started and the others agreed, all completely confused by this.

“The very fact that you don’t know how your interns are behaving tells me how little you have been supervising them. It tells me there is a problem in all of your departments that I might need to correct by finding new Department Heads that will be able to keep their interns under control and not violating their employee contracts that they all signed.”

“We haven’t violated anything. We show up, do our jobs to the best of our abilities, we don’t leak any secrets. We don’t ever go against any of the NDAs that we sign.” Jake said with complete confidence and anger to his voice at being accused of something illegal.

“There are two clauses that every employee has to live by while they work for me. Two that I actually care about. No giving away secrets and no bullying. And you nobodies, thought it would be a smart idea to bully my kid.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the room with how deadly silent it got. Pater could see the look on some of the students’ faces as they tried to figure out who Tony could be talking about. As far as anyone knew, Tony Stark didn’t have any children. At least none that ever turned out to be true. The interns had been great all day with them, they had never seen any bullying.

“Mr. Stark, I think there has been a misunderstanding here. We haven’t bullied anyone, especially not someone that is your child. As far as I know, you don’t have a child.” Melissa said on their behalf and it was clear they were all horribly confused. 

“You haven’t bullied anyone? What would you call the things you said to Peter all day today?” Tony challenged. 

“There’s a hierarchy, Mr. Stark. Sometimes senior interns have to speak in a direct and aggressive manner to junior interns.” Evan said, trying to downplay it all. 

“Oh tell me you didn't.” Director Alverez said, as he looked over at the interns. 

“They did. Even if FRIDAY wasn’t recording it, I was there for some of it.” Happy said, as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Mr. Stark, I would like to formally apologise to you and to Mr. Parker on behalf of my department. I had no idea that any of my subordinates had any sort of problem with Mr. Parker. Had I known, I would have reported it and handled it properly.” Director Lewis said, clearly worried about how all of this was going to play out for him. 

“What are you all so freaked out about? It’s just Penis Parker, Stark Industries’ charity case.” Flash said, way too loudly and pulling Tony’s full attention back to him. He could see the confusion on a lot of the kids’ faces so he decided it was time to let it all hang out. 

“Let’s get a few things clear right now.” He said. “Peter Parker works for me. Directly. Not under R&D. Not under department heads. Not under interns. He reports to me. Personally. He is my personal intern.”

Shockwaves rolled across the students and it was clear that was the last thing any of them ever expected. Tony turned back to the interns as he continued. 

“He doesn’t run your errands. He doesn’t file your paperwork. And he will never, under any circumstance, bring you coffee. Because unlike all of you…” His eyes moved all across the interns. “…Peter is a scientist. A real one.”

Peter stared at his lap. His heartbeat echoed in his ears.

“Now.” Tony said. “Let’s talk about the money side, since that seems to matter to people like you.” He stepped closer to the senior interns’ table. “You get paid, what? Twenty-one dollars an hour?”

Raj nodded stiffly, not sure if he was supposed to answer.

“Great.” Tony said. “Peter makes more than double that. Because unlike you all, he came into this company with real ideas. Ideas that would shape the way the world works and make it better. Ideas that not even my best Department Heads would have been able to come up with. He has a verified IQ of two hundred and twenty-five, the highest at this company and one of the highest in the world. While you all have been running lines or code and filing, he designed new medical technology that Stark Industries is launching this year. It is already projected to clear twenty, billion, dollars, in the first year alone.”

Flash’s mouth dropped open. A student near him choked on his own spit.

Tony didn’t pause. “He only answers to three people in this company: me, Pepper Potts, and Happy Hogan. That’s it. Not your bosses. Certainly not any of you.”

Peter felt his face heat, and not in a good way. He didn’t like attention like this. He didn’t like being talked about like he was more important than everyone else. Tony glanced his way once, catching that discomfort, but didn’t soften the point.

“He has full access to this entire building. He can walk into any lab. Touch any equipment. Use any resources he wants. If someone tries to stop him, they would lose their job before they finish talking. He also has complete control over firing someone. He’s never done it, because he’s too nice, but he could walk into any lab, any office and fire someone on the spot and I wouldn’t think twice about it. And each and every single one of you knows that. You know he’s an Executive Intern. You know he has full clearance to the building and yet you all thought it would be a good idea to belittle, humiliate and bully my kid.”

The interns looked like they had been hit with a brick. Peter stared at the floor, wishing it would swallow him. He could pick up all of the whispers that everyone was having right now. It was clearly a major shock to the entire room, or those that didn’t work at Stark Industries at least. This was also the last thing Peter wanted. He didn’t want his cover blown. He wanted to be able to keep being just another intern at school so he didn’t have to deal with people wanting to be his friend. He had no interest in fake friends, but now it was going to spread like wildfire all over the school, probably before the school bus even pulled up to it.

“Parker is your kid, as in…” Amanda started, but she couldn’t seem to get the rest of the words out. 

“He is my heir to Stark Industries and the Avengers Initiative.” Tony easily stated like he didn’t just drop a bomb on the entire room. Peter especially. 

Every sound died where it stood. No shifting chairs. No nervous coughs. No whispered commentary. The space felt vacuum-sealed, like the air itself had been sucked out and no one had remembered how to breathe again. The interns stared at Tony in open disbelief, expressions frozen somewhere between offense and horror, as if they’d misheard him and were terrified of realizing they hadn’t. One of the students dropped their pen. The clatter against the floor sounded unnaturally loud in the silence.

Dr. Rowe’s face went completely still. Not shocked in a dramatic way, worse. Controlled, professional composure stripped bare by the realization that this wasn’t a misunderstanding, or a rhetorical flourish, or some kind of motivational exaggeration. This was real. Directors exchanged glances, years of corporate experience suddenly useless against a single sentence that rewrote the future of the company in front of them.

Happy didn’t move. He didn’t need to. He’d known. The difference was that now everyone else did too. Peter felt it like a physical blow. For a split second, his brain refused to process the words at all. He knew what each of them meant individually. He just couldn’t make them fit together in the same sentence, let alone apply them to himself. His chest went tight, breath catching as if his lungs had forgotten their job. He stared at Tony, wide-eyed, the room tilting slightly as the weight of it all slammed into place.

Heir. Not intern. Not mentee. Not someday, maybe, if things went well. Heir.

Across the room, one of the interns looked physically ill. Another leaned back as if distance might protect them from the implications. All the snide comments, the dismissive jokes, the smug certainty of hierarchy collapsed in on themselves in real time, replaced by the dawning realization that they hadn’t been punching down at a charity case. They’d been aiming at the future owner of the company.

Flash was the only one who made a sound. It slipped out of him without permission, a thin, broken noise somewhere between a gasp and a whine, sharp enough to turn heads. His face had drained of color, mouth hanging open, eyes locked on Peter with something that looked dangerously close to panic.

“No.” He breathed, barely audible. “That’s not…”

Tony’s gaze flicked to him, cool and dismissive. “It is.”

Flash shrank back into his chair, the reality finally crashing in. Every joke. Every comment. Every video, every whisper, every moment he’d pushed, mocked, and provoked replayed itself behind his eyes with brutal clarity.

The room stayed frozen, suspended in the aftermath of a truth none of them had been prepared to hear. Tony let it sit there, unsoftened, unwalked back, watching as the weight of it settled differently on every person present. Then, only when he was satisfied they understood exactly what had changed, he spoke again. And this time, no one doubted he meant every word.

“So.” Tony said, shifting slightly. “Here’s what happens next.” He pointed to the interns, every single one. “You’re fired.”

Melissa’s voice finally came out. “What?”

“You heard me.” Tony said. “You’re being terminated for bullying, harassment, and creating a hostile work environment toward a protected minor under NDA. You’re also being permanently blacklisted. If you try to apply to any Stark branch, any Stark partner, any company that so much as buys bolts from us, you will be laughed out of the interview. Happy, call security. They can collect their badges and escort them out.”

Jake stood up, hands shaking. “Mr. Stark, sir… there must be a…”

“The only mistake here was letting you near my intern in the first place.” Tony said. “Sit down until security gets here. That’s the last instruction you’ll ever get in this building.”

Jake sat. Hard as the devastation took over all of the interns’ bodies and faces. The reality that their career was essentially over long before it ever really got started. Tony turned next to the teachers. Mr. Harrington looked like he was trying to make himself invisible. Ms. Warren’s face had gone pale.

“You two.” Tony said, voice colder now. “I’m disgusted by your lack of professionalism. You knew Flash was bullying Peter. You knew Peter’s internship was legitimate, you had the paperwork, and you still let rumors spread. You failed to protect the smartest student in your school.”

Harrington swallowed. “We…we didn’t realize…”

“That’s exactly the problem.” Tony said. “You didn’t want to realize. You ignored everything because it was easier.” He leaned slightly closer, voice low and lethal. “I’ve filed a formal complaint with your superintendent. Expect a review.”

Neither teacher spoke. Both looked like they might collapse. Then Tony turned to Flash. Flash tried to straighten up, tried to smirk, but nothing came out. Tony didn’t bother walking closer. He just looked at him like he was assessing a broken piece of equipment.

“When I hear the word ‘bully,’ I assume immaturity. When I hear the word ‘harassment,’ I assume stupidity. But when a kid targets someone under my protection?” Tony’s eyes hardened. “That becomes my business.”

Flash’s face was chalk white.

“You are blacklisted from every Stark-funded academic program. If I hear about you harassing Peter again, even indirectly, I will sue you and your parents into bankruptcy. They will lose everything. And you will be lucky if McDonald’s lets you flip burgers.”

Flash couldn’t look up. His eyes stayed glued to the floor. Tony straightened his jacket. “Now that we’ve handled the stupidity…” He finally turned fully toward Peter. His tone changed instantly, warm, protective. He gave Peter’s shoulder a light squeeze. “After the day you’ve had, you deserve a lab day.”

Peter stood, legs a little unsteady. His badge caught the light and every student stared at it like they’d never seen it before.

“Ted, scary girl, see ya around.” Tony said with a kind smile to Peter’s two true friends. 

Happy opened the doors and stepped aside without a word. Peter, legs still unsteady but posture straight, walked out between Tony and Happy like it was the most natural thing in the world. The room tracked his movement in silence.

Flash stayed frozen in his chair, staring at nothing. The interns couldn’t lift their eyes from the table. The directors sat rigid, breathing shallow, as if any movement might draw attention they didn’t want. Peter didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. He went where he belonged, upstairs, with Tony.

XXX

Tony didn’t say anything as they left the conference room. He just kept one hand on Peter’s shoulder and walked, long strides carrying them down the hallway and around the corner. Happy made his way towards the main elevators so he could handle the interns and their escort out of the building. Tony and Peter reached the private elevator. Tony pressed his thumb to the reader. The doors slid open at once.

“Inside.” He said.

Peter stepped in and the doors closed, muting the building. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The numbers ticked upward on the small panel.

Tony glanced sideways at Peter. “You breathing?”

“Yeah.” Peter said. His voice sounded rougher than usual.

“Good.” Tony said. “Keep doing that.”

The elevator opened directly into the private lab level. It was quieter up here; the hum of systems, the faint sound of equipment running, but none of the voices, none of the curious looks, none of the whispers. Tony stepped out first and gestured for Peter to follow.

“FRIDAY, lab privacy.” Tony said. “No external interruptions unless the building is on fire.”

“Confirmed.” FRIDAY replied. “All non-essential notifications muted.”

Peter let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Tony turned to face him fully for the first time since they’d walked out of the conference room. His eyes flicked over him, checking for something Peter knew wasn’t physical.

“You hurt?” Tony asked.

“No.” Peter said. “Just… tired.”

“Sit.” Tony pointed at the stool by Peter’s usual workstation.

Peter dropped his backpack on the floor and sat. His hands were still a little shaky. He pressed them against his knees to steady them. Tony leaned back against the main table, arms crossing loosely over his chest. “You want to tell me why I had to find out about all this from FRIDAY instead of from you?”

Peter stared at his hands. “I didn’t want to bother you. You were busy with the meetings. And it started as just… jokes. Then it was rumors. Then the interns and…”

“And a lockdown. And a kid who looked like he was about two minutes away from shutting down in a room full of people that don’t deserve him.” Tony said. He shook his head. “You don’t get to decide when this kind of thing ‘bothers’ me. If it affects you, it affects me. That’s what this is.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter said quietly.

“I’m not looking for an apology.” Tony said. His voice softened a little. “I’m looking for a change in behavior. Next time someone at school or here or anywhere starts crap like that, you tell me. Immediately. Or you tell May. Or you tell Pepper. Or you tell Happy. You don’t try to choke on it alone.”

Peter nodded. “Okay.”

“I mean it, Pete.” Tony said. “You do not have to earn your right to speak up.”

Peter swallowed. “Okay. I’ll tell you next time.”

“Good.” Tony said. He let a few seconds pass, letting that settle. “Now. Let’s address the thing you’ve been avoiding looking at since we stepped in here.”

Peter blinked. “What thing?”

“The heir bit.” Tony said. “You look like someone dropped a building on your brain.”

Peter flushed. “You said it in front of everyone.”

“Yeah.” Tony said. “That was not how I planned to have that conversation, but they pushed my hand. I wasn’t going to stand there and let them talk like you were a pity hire. They needed context. So I gave it to them.”

Peter stared at the floor. “Did you mean it?”

Tony didn’t answer right away. He pushed off the table and walked closer, resting his hands on the edge of Peter’s workstation.

“Kid, I don’t say things like that as a bit.” He said. “Pepper and I have been working on a new succession plan for months. Board stuff. Legal stuff. You’d hate the paperwork.”

“You… put my name on it?” Peter asked.

“Yeah.” Tony said. “You think I go around calling people my heir for fun? I’m not that dramatic. Well. Not usually.”

Peter let out a tiny, surprised breath. It wasn’t quite a laugh, but it loosened something tight in his chest.

“I thought…” Peter hesitated. “I thought you just meant… like… in the room. To shut them down.”

Tony shook his head. “I meant it literally. Stark Industries needs a succession structure that doesn’t end with a bunch of board members fighting to tear it apart. I am not giving this company to someone who only cares about profit. It needs someone who understands people. Someone with a brain and an actual conscience.” He held Peter’s gaze. “That’s you.” Tony said.

Peter’s throat tightened. “I’m fifteen.”

“Yeah, and right now all that means is you don’t have to do anything official with it yet.” Tony said. “You’re not being handed the keys tomorrow. We’re building for years from now. This is long-term planning, not ‘surprise, you’re CEO Monday.’”

“What does it… actually mean?” Peter asked.

“It means that on paper, when certain things happen that we hope don’t happen for a long time, you’re first in line to decide what happens to the company’s direction.” Tony said. “Pepper will run the day-to-day as long as she wants. You’ll have support. Legal, financial, operations. You’re not being thrown into a room alone. You’re being included in the plan as the person we trust with the big picture.”

“I don’t know anything about running a company.” Peter said.

“You’re learning.” Tony said. “Every time you come here, every time you sit in on meetings, every time you watch how we deal with problems, you’re learning. When I was your age, I was busy drinking and building weapons. You’re already ahead of me.”

“That’s not a high bar.” Peter said quietly.

Tony smirked. “It’s still a bar.” He leaned one hip against the table. “Look, kid. You being named heir doesn’t erase the fact that you’re also my intern. You’re still here to learn and screw up safely and build things and fix things and eat too much pizza. It just means that when people ask who comes after me, there’s an answer that doesn’t scare the hell out of me.”

Peter sat with that for a moment. “Pepper’s okay with this?”

“It was her idea first.” Tony said. “She introduced the motion to the board. I backed it. Happy witnessed the signatures. Your aunt gave her consent on anything that touches your legal status. You’re not being pushed into something without adults in the loop who actually care about you.”

“It feels… big.” Peter admitted.

“It is big.” Tony said. “But big doesn’t mean bad. It just means important. And you don’t have to carry it alone. That’s the part people always forget.”

Peter nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Tony studied him. “You mad at me for saying it in front of everyone like that?”

Peter shook his head. “No. I just… didn’t know. It was a lot.”

“Yeah.” Tony said. “I’ll give you that. Next time I torpedo someone’s career in front of you, I’ll send you a memo first.”

Peter huffed out a small, real laugh. “You fired all of them.”

“Yeah.” Tony said without apology. “We have a zero tolerance policy for that kind of behavior. Especially with minors. Especially with you. If I let them get away with it, I’d be telling everyone in this building that treating you like that is okay. It’s not.”

Peter’s eyes dropped again. “They think I don’t deserve to be here.”

“Do you?” Tony asked.

Peter blinked. “What?”

“Do you think you don’t deserve to be here?” Tony repeated.

Peter thought about the hours in the lab, the late nights poring over equations, the prototypes he had helped fix, the medical device design that had gone from sketch to working model. He thought about the mistakes he had made and the times Tony had told him to try again instead of sending him home.

“I think…” Peter said slowly. “I think I’ve worked hard to be here. I think I still have a lot to learn. I think there are things I can do that help.”

“That’s the right answer.” Tony said. “Not because it flatters me, but because it lines up with reality. You’re not here because I feel sorry for you. You’re here because you earned it. And because you keep earning it.”

Peter nodded. His shoulders lowered a little, some of the tension finally starting to leave.

Tony checked the time on his watch. “Alright. Here’s what we’re going to do. No more school drama for the day. You’re not going back there. Harrington and Warren can explain to the principal why their star student left early with his employer.”

Peter’s mouth twitched. “May’s going to have opinions.”

“Pepper is already on the phone with her.” Tony said. “They’re comparing notes and planning your immediate future. I would not cross either of them right now.”

Peter believed him.

“So.” Tony clapped once, softly. “You want to run a quick diagnostic on the prosthetic brace design, or are you too fried?”

Peter considered it. Normally, the idea of touching lab equipment after a day like that would make him want to lie down. But the lab was familiar. The work made sense. Numbers made sense. Machines made sense. People were the exhausting variable.

“I could run one set.” Peter said. “If you want.”

“If you want.” Tony corrected. “I’m not assigning homework. I’m giving you an option.”

Peter stood. His legs felt steadier now. He moved over to the nearest workbench and pulled up the holographic interface. With a few gestures, he brought up the current model of the brace they had been refining. The joints, the sensor arrays, the power distribution. The model rotated slowly in the air.

“FRIDAY, load the last calibration readings.” Peter said.

“Up now.” FRIDAY replied.

Tony moved beside him, not crowding, just present.

They talked through a few minor adjustments. Nothing major. A small tweak to a sensor threshold. A correction to how the pressure mapped along the frame. It was enough to get Peter’s brain engaged in a way that wasn’t about fear or humiliation or people whispering about him.

After about twenty minutes, Tony tapped the table. “Okay, that’s enough. No more work. We’re officially off the clock.”

Peter looked up. “We just started.”

“And we’re stopping.” Tony said. “You’ve had a day. We’re not burning you out on top of it.”

As if on cue, the lab doors opened and Pepper walked in. She had her tablet under one arm and her hair pulled back like she’d come straight from a meeting. When she saw Peter, her face softened.

“There you are.” She said, crossing to him without hesitation.

Peter barely had time to react before she pulled him into a quick hug. He stiffened for half a second, then relaxed.

“You okay?” Pepper asked, pulling back enough to see his face.

“Yeah.” Peter said. “I’m okay.”

She studied him like she was checking that answer against something only she could see. “May filled me in on the school side. FRIDAY filled me in on the Tower side. I’m very proud of you.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Peter said. “You and Mr. Stark did everything.”

“You held the line.” Pepper said. “You followed your NDA, you didn’t lash out, you didn’t make it worse. You should never have been put in that position, but you handled it better than most adults I know.”

Peter looked down, embarrassed. “Thanks.”

Pepper glanced at Tony. “I assume you told him.”

“Yeah.” Tony said. “We talked succession.”

“And you didn’t have a panic attack?” She asked Peter lightly.

“Not a full one.” Peter said.

“That’s progress.” Pepper said. “We’ll take it.”

Happy stepped into the lab then, having finished whatever security calls he’d needed to make. “Interns are processed.” He said. “Badges revoked. Security walked them off the premises. HR has their files.”

“Good.” Pepper said. “Legal will handle the rest.”

Tony clapped his hands again once, this time more in a “wrap up” way. “Alright. Here’s the new plan for the rest of the day. No more meetings. No more lab. No more anything that looks like work.”

“Tony, you still have a three o’clock with…” Pepper started.

“I had a three o’clock.” Tony said. “Now I have dinner plans.”

Pepper frowned slightly, then understood. “Dinner plans.” She repeated.

“With family.” Tony added.

Happy raised an eyebrow. “Where are we ordering from?”

“We’re not ordering.” Pepper said. “We’re sitting down like human beings at a table like we keep saying we should and never do.”

Tony pointed at her. “See? This is why she runs the company.”

Peter watched them, a small, real smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Can we invite May?” He asked.

“Already did.” Pepper said. “She’s on her way. She got off early.”

Peter blinked. “Really?”

Pepper nodded. “She said, and I quote, ‘If my kid just got publicly declared heir to a billion dollar company, I’m not working a full shift today.’”

Peter groaned softly. “She’s never going to let that go, is she?”

“No.” Tony said. “And she shouldn’t.”

They left the lab together, this time without the weight that had been clinging to Peter’s shoulders all morning. The elevator ride up to the residential level was quiet in a good way. Comfortable.

The dining area on the private floor wasn’t fancy. It looked more like a normal open kitchen and table than anything out of a magazine. There was a long table, enough chairs for whoever happened to be there, and a kitchen area that Tony pretended he used more than he did. Happy disappeared to help with food. Pepper answered a quick call, then put her phone face down on the counter. Tony pulled a chair out and nodded toward it.

“Sit.” He said. “You’re not hovering in doorways. You live here part-time whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t live here.” Peter said, sitting anyway.

“You might as well.” Tony said.

The door opened a few minutes later and May stepped in, hair a little windswept from the rush, work bag still over her shoulder. She looked at Peter first.

“You alright?” She asked.

“Yeah.” He said. “I’m okay.”

She walked over and cupped his face briefly, scanning him like she used to when he scraped his knees as a kid. Satisfied he was in one piece, she kissed his forehead and then turned her attention to Tony.

“I saw the video.” She said. “You didn’t hold back.”

“Was I supposed to?” Tony asked.

“No.” May said. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “He’s my kid too.”

That still caught Peter off guard when he said it, but less than it used to.

They all sat. Tony at one end, Pepper at the other, Peter and May on one side, Happy on the other. Food was simple, pasta and salad that Tony had cooked, some frozen garlic bread that Tony had left in the freezer. Conversation started small. Pepper asked May about work. May asked about the latest project Peter and Tony were doing. Tony made fun of Happy’s habit of double checking every door lock in the building. Someone brought up the way Flash’s face had looked at the board meeting and May almost choked laughing. Peter relaxed more with each passing minute until it felt less like a strange, fancy place and more like… their place.

At one point, when everyone had quieted to focus on eating, Peter looked around the table. Tony arguing lightly with Pepper about whether he was allowed to skip his next physical. May shaking her head, smiling at something Happy said. Plates, glasses, the sound of forks against ceramic. He wasn’t at the edge of the room watching everyone else. He wasn’t the kid in the hallway being mocked. He wasn’t the invisible intern in someone else’s lab. He was here. At this table. With these people.

He didn’t say anything about it out loud. He didn’t know how to, not without making it weird. But the tightness that had lived under his ribs all day finally eased. For the first time in days, Peter didn’t feel like he had something to prove. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.

The End.