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Peter was trying his best not to get bored out of his mind. This weekly Avengers meeting was proving to be utterly pointless. Tony just kept rambling about damage costs from Hulk and Natasha was demanding more money put into close combat weapons (her knives were getting full and fragile). All of which Peter did not feel like focusing on. His entire body was tense with a need to just escape. That entire day he was trapped to be very still, very silent, and the only motions he was able to make was the senseless filling in with bubbles for the SAT.
Any highschool student knows the horrid experience of being locked in a brightly lit room in complete silence for five hours straight. Peter was so close to shredding that Number 2 pencil into shreds. He never felt so understimulated in his life.
He was excited to go home, put on his favorite Spotify playlist, and work on upgrading his webshooters then maybe swing around the city for a bit.
Instead Steve texted "S OH S, MEET SOON" (He still struggled with electronic messaging. Poor guy.) and the other Avengers replied that they would make that Tuesday their weekly meeting instead of Thursday that week for convenience sake.
It was not convenient for Peter. Meetings were always on Thursday. Thanks a lot for ruining the schedule, Steve.
Anyways, despite Steve's urgency for a meeting, he was running late. Peter was about to fall asleep as Clint recommended everyone taking a "Kindness Matters" seminar to deal with conflict.
Suddenly, Steve burst in the room with a folder in hand "I have the information."
"Glad you could finally join us, old man." Tony said dryly. Steve promptly ignored him and opened up his files.
"Have you all heard about the missing people in Georgia?" Steve asked.
"Somewhat." Tony said.
"Last week another dozen millennial women have disappeared. The only thing that connects them is the multitude of receipts from a place called 'Hunky Harry's Hot Dogs'," Steve squinted his eyes and read the fine print even closer "'Plus Smoothies That Kiss Your Metabolism'. Ok, seriously, how did people get even worse at naming restaurants since the '40s."
"Ever since society liked to make millions of of women's midsections." Natasha said grimly as she sharpened some of her favorite knives methodically, looking at Clint with a deadly glint her eyes. Peter suspected she was still salty that Clint wanted money to go to the kindness seminar instead of her weapons.
"Yes but before we can tackle society, we must tackle the fact that something suspicious is happening there. You might be on to something Cap." Tony murmured and clicked a button on his remote. Friday pulled up a holographic screen of articles about the mass hysteria of missing people in Georgia.
"I'm surprised no one is suspecting the chain, everyone that vanishes seems to go there right before they disappear." Bruce noted.
"Well, you don't suspect a hot dog of kidnapping." Tony said.
"Then it's definitely the people behind the place. I smell a front." Natasha agreed and cracked her knuckles "So which one of us is going to go down to Georgia and beat up some crooked people?"
"Woah, woah. Slow your roll Nat. We don't have any concrete evidence, we need a double agent. One of us should work there."
"Stark, all of us are famous--or infamous, depending on who you ask-- none of us could work there. Even undercover you know someone would recognize us." Bruce told him. That's when everyone turned to look at Peter, who was still on the verge of falling asleep.
"Everyone would recognize us, but not Parker." Tony said, which immediately woke Peter up.
"Oh no, no no. Don't even think about it. I can't go to Georgia. I have--"
"Kiddo I will gladly have one of my assistants handle your homework. And didn't you need help finishing up your resume and getting a job?" Tony asked with a mischievous smile. Peter looked at him blankly then groaned in annoyance.
"Fine. I'll do it."
"Great! You'll start Tuesday!" The interviewer said way too happily for Peter's liking. Despite the lady ogling at Peter's pink hair at the beginning, he managed to get through the interview well enough. Mainly because Tony paid a ton of places to allow Peter to put them on his resume. And hey, money talks in the corrupt world of capitalism.
"Tuesday like next Tuesday, or tomorrow?" Peter asked to clarify. His brain sometimes scrambled dates up and he struggled to process what date someone was referring to.
"Tomorrow Tuesday. Uniform is provided, all you have to do is be ready to work hard and smile. Customer service is everything here. But don't worry, the first week is mostly training. We'll teach you everything you need to know."
"Gotcha." Peter said. He was friendly, he was cute with his pink hair, and he knew how to adapt to changes quick. What's the worst that could happen?
"Oh by the way, here's a hot dog. If you are gonna work here you gotta know the food!" The lady laughed and handed Peter a hot dog on a plate, it was covered in onions. Peter hated onions.
Thankfully, the lady's phone rang and she walked into the other room, giving Peter just enough time to shove the hot dog into his backpack.
"How was it?" she asked when she came back. Peter pretended to chew it and smiled.
"Perfect." He said, feeling a little guilty for lying.
"Great! We'll see you then!"
"Peter your mission requires you to work in food service? ...Maybe you would have been better off killed by the Vulture." MJ said on FaceTime with Ned and Peter.
"MJ! You're being a little overdramatic, which is odd for you." Peter said as he ironed out his 'Hunky Harry's" t-shirt. He suspected the uniform was used, there were grease stains on it when he first got it that refused to come out.
"Actually Pete, she's right. I worked at Subway for a week before I broke. Mentally and physically, I have never been the same since." Ned told him.
"What? Did they stuff a cucumber up your nose? I think you two forgot who you're talking to. I'm freaking Spider-Man!"
"Spider-Man can't even handle a Karen." MJ said in her classic monotone. Ned looked like he was getting flashbacks.
"One lady wanted to buy just a bowl of cucumbers. When I told her that there was a limit to cucumbers that we could give to customers... she tried to perform an exorcism on me."
"Ned, calm down. You told me this before. She just called for your manager and called you some names." Peter reminded him.
"See? Exorcism."
"My parents are calling me for dinner. Later losers."
"Bye MJ!" The boys said in unison. Ned looked back at Peter, slightly startled for some reason.
"Don't say I didn't warn you." He said, and hung up ominously. Peter laughed and closed his laptop shut. His friends were well-meaning, but they obviously underestimated him.
"Kiddo, good luck tomorrow. When you're closing up remember to put the flashdrive in the boss's laptop." Tony told Peter through the room door.
The team had to get an Air B&B with an owner that signed an NDA. Everyone was shocked Tony didn't have a mansion set up in Georgia already, and Tony had to remind them that he doesn't collect mansions like Pokemon cards. Despite having 15 already.
"Thanks Mr. Stark, I can't believe this is my first real job. And the pay is over minimum wage!" Peter said with sparkles basically booming out his eyes.
"Oh really? How much?"
"$8.50 an hour!"
Tony stared at Peter in horror and slowly pulled out his phone to make a call without missing a beat.
"Pepper, get to work on making minimum wage higher immediately. I forgot how these poor civilians have it." Tony told the phone and started walking away, closing Peter's door behind him. He could hear Clint and Natasha arguing over something in the background faintly.
Peter was thankful he got a room by himself, he couldn't imagine sharing a room with Natasha and Clint. The prank wars would never end. He could get some peace and quiet like this.
Peter got there thirty minutes early and helped clean the area. If the place ended up innocent he might as well get good (genuine) experience on his resume for the future. But something was off.
No one was allowed in the kitchen unless they were the boss (Martha) or a cook. Even after hours. If you entered there would be harsh repercussions.
Suspicious. Steve was right to call a meeting for this place.
At the cash register, his trainer, an old lady named Lucinda, stood beside him with an expectant face. Peter immediately noticed how in front of the register, the front walls were clear to work as windows. The sun was already attacking his eyes. He would be staring at the sunlight for God knows how long.
"You've clocked in, good. Now just click the menu item type and the add ons. Pretty easy." Lucinda said, smacking her gum. Peter hated when people smacked gum, but he refrained from saying anything.
Natasha told him not to worry earlier, that the first few days he'd just be shadowing. He wouldn't actually have to do much other than focus on getting the flash drive in and earning trust. But this trainer lady put him on the register with no knowledge of the menu literally on the first hour. Oh no.
The door opened and Peter straightened his posture the best he could. The woman, a brunette in probably her early twenties came in with her ponytail bobbing up and down. She Gave Peter the sweetest smile and said.
"Just a medium Strawberry Banana smoothie, please." The woman said. Peter was able to guess how to get that to work, he clicked smoothie and authorized credit card by tapping a button. The lady did that and smiled happily as Peter handed her a receipt.
Huh, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
Then the second customer entered.
With a smile he began to say hello and good morning, but the woman interrupted him.
"Two chili dogs and a mango mango metabolism smoothie." The lady said quickly, her words crashing into each other. Peter blinked at her, processing what she just said post-order because she spoke two quickly. His auditory processing issues were absolutely going to love this job.
"Two chili dogs and a mango smoothie?" Peter clarified to make sure he got the order correct before he put it in.
"Mango mango metabolism smoothie. Geez, do you not know your own menu?" the lady hissed.
Peter simply smiled at her while internally screaming at what he had gotten himself into. He then looked at the cash register with no idea which section the meal was under.
"Uh," he shifted weight from one foot to the other, then sheepishly asked his trainer "What are chili dogs under?"
"Specials." The lady said, finally, and smacked her gum. Peter clicked it, and the screen flooded with food items. This thing was a freaking word search, and he was on a time crunch.
"Is there a problem?" The lady looked like she was in a rush. Peter felt a sinking feeling in his gut, a feeling that was threatening to overtake him. The bell on the door rang and Peter saw more people enter in line.
"Nope! Lucinda, where's--" Peter said with a nervous voice. Lucinda stopped him mid sentence and pressed somewhere on the far left of the screen. How was Peter supposed to find the Chili dogs that quickly when he didn't even know it was on the specials section in the first place? He then clicked smoothies, and got the stupid mango mango smoothie.
"11.50 please." Peter said and the lady gave him a 20. Peter was able to recognize certain buttons and could guess how they would work from given information. He pressed pay, cash, put in the amount the lady gave him and sighed in relief as it went through. The cash drawer opened and he counted out her change, handed it over with her receipt.
"Good job! See, you'll get the hang of it quick!" Lucinda told Peter. Peter was doubtful.
After two more customers orders went smoothly, Lucinda abandoned Peter to go work in the kitchen. Peter was the only one working at the cash register in the whole building. He was going as quickly as he could, trying not to absolutely lose his mind at the repetitive Ding! Click! Swoosh! of the cash register and its money drawer opening after every single order. Every time he closed it, the customers receipt printed, and the door opened again. Hitting his thigh so hard he swore it would give him a bruise later. He then pulled out a second receipt meant for the restaurant and placed it on a stack.
Then the receipt machine broke.
"What's my order number?" a man asked, who thankfully was nice and tipped Peter ten bucks because let's be honest, Peter was not one for hiding his emotions and he looked frazzled. Peter stared at the receipt machine as if he could command it to print with his eyes. Sadly the spider bite did not give him that power.
"Sorry, one moment sir. LUCINDA--"
Lucinda whipped her head in around the corner, still chewing gum, and sighed.
"You've been pulling the receipts out wrong." She said as she opened the machine and reset the paper.
You didn't even tell me I was pulling it out wrong in the first place! Peter thought to himself.
Peter took a deep breath and grabbed the receipt and handed it to the man "So sorry about that, have a wonderful day!"
"You too son, and good luck."
Peter wished he could tip a customer for the first time in his life.
He almost relaxed from the kindness, but the drawer slammed out on his thigh again, and the next person was waiting.
People were getting antsy, but his trainer left again and wasn't responding to him yelling out for assistance. He seriously contemplated googling how to do the damn job on the spot.
Eventually the lines died down and Peter was able to work through it okay...kind of. But he made it, somehow. As things slowed down some more nice customers came in, giving him extra tips. That's when Lucinda walked over, assumed Peter was doing fine. And she freaking left again.
"Hey," a man in his thirties smiled at Peter. Something about it made the hairs on Peter's arms raise up in suspicion. Peter inputted his order and as he took the man's cash, the man gave Peter a rolled up piece of paper. The man winked and walked away. Peter shuddered as he opened the paper.
"dam, new girl ur beautiful. call me" the note read, and Peter felt nauseated.
1. He's a minor.
2. He's a boy.
3. HE'S A MINOR???
Peter shoved the feelings away and kept his expression as blank as possible as the guy who gave him the note watched him from the order waiting area.
Natasha would skin the man alive if she was there.
A coworker went out to hand the man his food and once he left, Peter turned to his fellow worker in a panic.
"That man just gave me a note." Peter said, and he didn't have to specify what kind. His voice was panicked enough that his coworker knew.
"Oh that's normal. We get lots of people like that here," the boy shrugged nonchalantly, "Once an old guy came up to me and told me that his wife would do unspeakable things to me if she saw me. Get used to it."
Why did Peter agree to this mission again? Peter inhaled, put on a smile as fake as his mental stability, and journeyed on as the line grew. And grew. And grew and grew and grew--
"A hot dog but fry the bread." The last lady in line ordered. Peter stared at her in confusion. This he knew was not on the menu.
"Uhm, that's not a thing--"
"Yes it is. I got it at a different hot dog place before. You can do it, you have the supplies."
"Maybe, but I have no idea how to ring that up."
"Like a normal hotdog."
"But I don't know how to add the special instructions."
"You go tell them."
"But I'm not allowed in the kitchen."
"Just do it! Gosh, kids and their dumb dyed hair. I think the pink is going into your brain." The lady snapped. Peter closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply.
"And I think the gray is getting to yours!" Peter snapped and shoved the cash register off the counter.
Ok, he didn't actually do that. He just imagined that he did.
Peter instead, clenched his jaw in a terrifying smile and said.
"Of course, the customer is always right. LUCINDA--"
Two hours later and Peter had survived his first five hour shift with no breaks, hardly any help, and multiple enraged customers.
Everything was too loud and he was struggling to process what was going on. His knees were going to give out from standing nonstop. The sounds of food frying and the heat of stove tops raced through the air, all on a mission to make Peter feel as awful as possible.
He has managed through the worst sensory day of his life. He is free. Or so he thought.
"Ok now go clean up the bathrooms and tables. Remember to spray everything." Lucinda said and tossed Peter a bucket of cleaning supplies with no other context.
Peter begrudgingly did as he was told. And as he did that he noticed Martha and Lucinda talking out by the cashier in hushed voices. Lucinda got a call and as she answered it she panicked. She exchanged quick words with Martha.
"Peter we're going out for a bit, you lock up!" Martha shouted and the two stormed out of the building. Peter let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He urged his super hearing to assess the building for any other workers. He rarely did this as he got sensory overload as-is, but the mission called for it.
Peter walked out of view of the security camera, pressed a button on his watch that Tony made. This button made him invisible from digital footage for ten minutes. He snuck back into the kitchen and shuddered. The place looked creepy as hell.
Vials of strange liquids were all over shelves, and Peter could smell that they were poured into the hot dog-- batter? Mixture? Whatever you'd call it. It felt like he was in an evil animal testing lab. He then noticed a briefcase in the corner. He rushed to it--putting gloves on--and opened it.
He saw Martha's laptop. He shoved the flash drive in. The good thing about having an old lady as his boss was the fact she did not know how to set up a firewall. Or even a password?
...
This was the stupidest villain he's ever met.
He decided to take a peak in her files as he waited for the flash drive to make its copy. A lot of chemical formulas and brain scans. That doesn't sound like something who runs a fast food restaurant should have.
Peter almost opened her email account, but his super hearing alerted him of people entering. He quickly took the flash drive and closed the briefcase. He snuck around to the bathroom and pretended he had been mopping the entire time.
"Peter," Martha said cheerfully as she ducked into the bathroom "Nice work today. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeahhh," Peter averted his gaze from her and mumbled "This isn't for me. I'm sorry. I'm out." Peter zoomed off without another word, clocking out and leaving the restaurant behind him. His muscles felt tense with stress and he realized then just how exhausted he was. He felt like everything was attacking his senses slowly throughout the day until his mouth felt empty of words and his head foggy.
As soon as he got to the Air B&B he handed Tony a note card.
I quit. Too drained to speak verbally right now, can respond via text or writing.
Tony nodded in understanding and handed Peter his favorite fidget ring and a notebook.
"Got any info?" Tony asked. Peter nodded and handed him the flash drive.
Creepy place. Weird chemical compounds and brain scans. I'm guessing they're hacking the nervous system for some reason. Peter wrote in the notebook. Tony hummed and plugged the flashdrive into his laptop.
"Bruce and Natasha gathered that they're praying on people's body insecurities to sell diet approved hot dogs quickly. Looking at the laptop info we can see that they're trying to mind control these people to get more employees and free labor to get rich quick."
Probably because no one wants to do that dumb job in the first place, so they literally had to use mind control to do it.
"They are controlling every aspect of every person's body. No breaks, no complaints, robot-like productivity, and no payment. They're able to build countless buildings every day with employees ready with no setbacks. Endless profit." Tony rambled as the rest of the team showed up. Tony did a hand motion to remind everyone to be a little quieter for Peter's sake.
"And those emails," Natasha snatched Tony's laptop without a care, despite his glare, "It's as I suspected. This is a test run for something much bigger. They're conspiring with other multi-million companies to sell this serum and poison their employees. And they would never get caught for their economic crimes because robots don't speak." Natasha seemed to chill for a moment.
She was raised to have no thoughts, no will, and no power against her commander. And now sick rich billionaires were going to create an army of emotionless employees just to earn an extra buck.
"Imagine if this went beyond companies," Bruce wondered aloud "If politicians, human traffickers, or criminals were able to get their hands on this formula and secretly poison people..."
"Who knows how much harm could come of it..." Steve shuddered.
"Wait, how did Peter get out of being mind controlled like the other employees were?" Clint asked. Peter almost wrote that he had no clue then recalled a strange moment. Martha when interviewing him offered him a hot dog, and he didn't have the heart to tell her that he had sensory issues with the onion topping on it. So when her office phone rang, he shoved it in his backpack and pretended he gobbled it up.
I may have... pretended to have eaten the hotdog but actually didn't because I had sensory issues with the onions on it.
"I'm suddenly very thankful you hate onions." Tony said and Peter's eyes widened as something else clicked in his mind.
Wait. I quit. What if they noticed I wasn't acting as zombie-like as the others?
"What? No way, if that was true then--"
Steve was loudly interrupted by the wall exploding.
"Hey! It was expensive to rent a house out for all the freaking Avengers!" Tony shouted.
"Uhm, Thor isn't here. And like, a ton of other people." Clint reminded him. Tony waved him off and ignored him. Martha suddenly appeared through the smog.
"I should have known. You can't even follow your hair routine right, how could I have gotten you to follow my evil plan?" Martha shouted angrily at Peter.
Peter was still not feeling talkative, so he scribbled a sentence on a piece of paper and proceeded to crumple it up into a ball to throw at her. She suspiciously picked it up, slowly unwrapping it. She squinted her eyes and read it.
"I would like to speak to the manager-- pinkie what the hell are you-- OW"
Peter shot a web straight to her face and she fell backwards, blinded.
A group of armed coworkers jumped through the hole in the wall. Peter webbed some best he could, dodging a laser beam. The beam was so close he felt his skin burn with an annoying sting. He wondered if that's why the hot dogs were so healthy. They probably cooked them with freaking lasers instead of grease and oil.
Tony already turned into iron man and was about to laser them, but Peter stormed in front of him and shook his head violently.
"Innocents." Peter tried to explain in as little words as possible. Thankfully, Tony got it and backed away, gesturing Natasha and Steve to handle this. Because a punch to the face ultimately was less deadly than billion dollar energy blasts.
Natasha, Clint, and Steve were able to quickly disarm the workers. Bruce wasn't in Hulk Mode at the moment, which was probably a good thing, so he just watched from the sidelines like this was a football game.
"That was surprisingly easy." Tony said.
"Maybe because we never had an old lady in need of a hip replacement fighting us before." Natasha scoffed and held onto the employee tightly.
"Bruce, we'll send these people to the lab. Maybe you can work on a cure." Steve said.
"You got it, but what about the other mass of missing people?"
"Peter and Tony can go round them up. From the emails, I can infer they are mind controlled to stay on work grounds unless told otherwise." Steve said as he put masks filled with laughing gas on the innocents. They'd be sedated in no time.
"Well Pete, are you ready to travel around Georgia to your favorite place of work?" Tony chuckled. Peter grumbled as he put his Spidey mask on. He never got any sleep with this Superhero gig.
But he wouldn't trade it for anything.
(especially not for a fast food employee wage)