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Stark Industries, a place of progression and ideas. A titan among companies. And a workplace where every week something goes wrong. Because of its sparkling reputation and just the simple general knowledge that Stark Industries deals with technology beyond mind comprehension, it isn’t a surprise that every now and then the labs get broken into by some poor soul hoping to find something to lead to them to a revolutionary idea. This is the best case. And the most unusual. The usual cases are thieves trying to sell the ideas, inventions and other stuff to the highest selling bidder on E-Bay and Facebook market place or the dark web if they are feeling particularly edgy and fancy. It doesn’t happen every day, of course.
Today is such a day and Marcus is so done with all of these people and Stark Industries. Yes, he absolutely loves his job. Creating, improving and testing new models for different fields is everything he imagined it would be as a kid and more. He worked hard to get into this company and to get his title, lab technician, thank you, and would rather not throw away 8 years of studies and gruesome work for some random brave criminal who decided the best way to make money is to break into company owned by a literal Avenger (I mean really? THIS is the place you chose to rob?).
However, staring straight into the muzzle of a gun at eight and something in the morning is really making him rethink his choices. He throws a quick glance at Lila who tilts her head in response. Security is already on the way. Its surprising the guy even got to this point with the all seeing A.I. thing going on.
“I said put them in the fucking bag!”
Marcus can see the sweat begin to build up on the man’s eyebrows and the redness in the face doesn’t help with hiding the fact that the guy is shitting his pants right now. From the way his hands tremble he probably hasn’t done this before. How does a lab technician know this? Well as he said before he’s seen this shit before. Started to get used to it even.
But he has students here now, the internship program having started barely two weeks ago. Undergrads, post doctorates, PhD students and fucking hell even teens. He can hear one of them start to hyperventilate. “I can’t breathe- oh god- please- I can’t do this-“, “Marie, I’m sorry, please, calm do-“ He wants to turn around to help. The gaze on him turns to the side, widening.
“Don’t fucking move! I swear to God I’ll pull the trigger!” The gun swung around before he could even blink. Someone screams and he can’t move. The man is puffing at this point, his hands are shaking and his pupils are trembling. He will bet all he has that he’s being pumped with adrenaline from head to toe. Adrenaline makes you strong. It makes you fast. It makes you unpredictable. And Marcus has students behind him.
By now everything should’ve been over. Security should’ve been here. The guy would’ve been apprehended. But it fucking isn’t and he doesn’t know what else to do. The man is being fucking cryptic and just keeps screaming-
“Put them in he fucking bag!”
God. Marcus wants to punch him in the face. Wants to turn around to help Marie. Wants to ask Lila where the fuck is security. And lastly he want to ask-
“Put what in the bag? Can’t you be more goddamned specific?”
The gun goes off. He is faced with a back instead of a face. There’s a hole in the wall besides the door that just opened. Beside the person that aired the questioned with the most irritated tone ever. The new intern. Peter B. Parker.
“What did you just say to me?”
“I said be more fucking specific so we can get this done with already. You think they like being held at gunpoint or something?” Sneer on his face, Peter questions him as if he were dealing with a petulant child. The way he looks right now does make him look 20 years older: eyebags, unwashed hair, with a smudge of something on his left cheek, clothes that probably haven’t seen an iron since they were purchased and a mug of steaming coffee in his hand. Marcus forgot he sent Peter to deal with the wiring of a faulty coffee machine.
You could hear a pin drop. He wishes he could see the mans expression right now. But the befuddlement in his voice does all the expressing he needs.
“Excuse me?!”
“You’re fucking excused. Either take something and leave or just fucking leave. I have enough to deal with as it is. There are bills to pay, papers to finish, projects, experiments, research and not to mention everything else that isn’t related to this internship. And now you’re taking up my time as well?!- ”
Marcus can’t believe what he is witnessing. He looks at Lila hoping for some enlightenment, but she looks just as disturbed as he feels in this moment. Taking advantage of the situation, he turns around to check on Marie. Shaun is crouching besides her gripping her hand, whispering something he can’t hear over the sound of Parker rambling. Rambling?
Peter is still going off.
What the fuck.
“-If you thing I have time for your act of stupidity, well you’re wrong! Couldn’t you have chosen to rob any other place? I mean Stark Labs? Are you being for real STARK LABS. As in the guy – “
Peter is looking at the man… with pity. And Marcus can’t understand where all of this is coming from. He wants to tell the kid to stop. That he is making it worse. There’s a gun pointed at him and the kid doesn’t even care. But the intelligence behind those eyes tells him that Peter knows exactly what he is doing. Stupid kid.
“Shut up.” He can see the guy shaking in anger. The tension is still high in the air but humiliation seeps through like poison.
“- who has multiple high technologized armored suits in his penthouse and other estates. How is that critical thinking? So please – “ The intern’s gaze changes from pity to tiredness.
The guy is still shaking but he can see from the way his back curls.
“I said shut up!”
Adrenaline makes you everything you want to be.
Adrenaline can make you brave.
Stupidly so.
Coffee goes flying everywhere.
“– fuck – “ The man is folded in two screaming. The gun goes off again.
And now, in the hand that is coming up. Twisting around. Is a wrench.
“-OFF!”
It hits the target with terrifying accuracy. There’s a satisfying ‘thunk’ as the wrench goes against and then crosses the man’s temple, then falls on the floor. A shout. The man stumbles and the gun slips from his hands. He can’t even react. The distance between Peter and the intruder is closed in an instant. The mug is high up in the air it for a split second, before coming down and finishing the job.
The thief crumbles, on the floor moaning in pain. His hands are sluggishly filtering over his face and the back of his head, his temples and again as if he doesn’t know where to put them first.
Marcus believes he’s dreaming. He has to be. There is no way this is happening, has happened right now. From the stifling silence he knows he isn’t alone in these feelings. Lila, his brilliant assistant and a braver person then he will ever be, jumps behind him checking up everybody. “Is everybody okay? Marie are you alright?” “Yeah, I think so, I’m breathing. Yeah.” “Okay, Tina? – yes- Urijah? – yeah- Nick? – Matthew? – fine..- Amelia?...”
He can’t move. Peter is just looking at the guy with something akin to frustration, sadness and satisfaction all in one, going on to shrug his shoulders as if he added one more egg to the recipe instead of stopping an armed criminal. And Marcus still doesn’t know what the fuck to do now?
“Marcus! Snap out of it, damn it! Make sure the guy doesn’t get up!”
Thank God for Lila. He promises to give her the most expensive, high functioning, big memory laptop he can find on the market the moment he gets his new paycheck.
He jumps on top of the guy, without an ounce of hesitation. And if he takes pleasure in the way that elicits a moan of pain, well nobody has to know. Parker seems to have gained his senses too, eyes widening and mouth tightening into a straight, awkward line. The panic is basically broadcasted for everybody to see.
“Thank you.” Because that is the least he can say right now. Peter almost jumps out of his skin in response, gaze latching onto his. Marcus holds it. Because he can’t even express how grateful he is. He can’t find the words other than: “Thank you. I don’t even know how I could…”
Peter seems not to know what to do with it.
“Um, of course, yes indeed, you are very welcome and I’m glad I could um help with coffee- I mean- the guy of course- yeah um I should go. Please don’t tell anybody of this.” The blubbering and stammering remind him that Peter is barely 20, not even 20, and all young adult awkwardness. He smiles at him. He doesn’t know how Peter is able to be endearing after knocking a man flat on floor, but he just files it up to his charming character.
Charming, because this random ass intern just saved the day and Marcus swears, he will get this kid a promotion and a bigger paycheck if his life depends on it.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell.” Marcus lies through his teeth with a smile on his face. He will spill everything to first, his wife and then HR.
Peter scrambles out of the laboratory workspace at light speed.
“Now…
Where the fuck is security!?!”
“I do not want to ask you again. Please, leave.”
Peter froze in the middle of the hallway. Well, it wasn’t like he was trying to eavesdrop, his hearing is just much better than before and he can’t just turn it off on command.
“Just answer one question.” A gruff voice.
What was Peter doing on this specific floor? Honestly, he had no idea either. He was sent to deliver the USB stick on transient electronic bandages to the Section Supervisor because Marcus wasn’t at work today and Lila was too busy making sure the other interns didn’t accidentally cut fingers off with the high-power lasers. Then he found out the Section Supervisor was sent to the upper floors for the rest of the week because of a burst pipe. Except he doesn’t know the Section Supervisors name, unsurprisingly, and had been walking around the high clearance offices floor for 20 minutes now.
“Mr. Crawford, I am calling security.” Ms. Potts tone is cold and stern. Maybe even a little bit raised.
Peter takes a step closer to the imposing doors, USB stick forgotten. He has a bad feeling about this.
“Ms. Potts – “
There's the sound of someone getting up, a thud, objects clattering and a rolling chair pushed.
“Mr. Crawford!”, voice raised and Peter jumps into action.
He knocks and enters, because he knows this isn’t his place to act, but he can’t just stand around knowing Ms. Potts might get hurt. He’s only met the woman twice but he already willing to jump in front of a car for her. Which, actually, might not mean much considering he jumps in front of cars and bullets for people every day but any way!
Ms. Potts seems surprised to see him and Mr. Crawford even more so. The CEO is backed a meter away from the desk, chair forgotten by the window. There are papers on the floor along a cup and a dozen ballpens. The desk is in a similar way. Mr. Crawford, a journalist of some sort, if Peter deducted correctly by the camera hanging off his neck and the phone he is crushing in his right hand, is halfway across the desk. Basically, the situation is very unprofessional, very creepy and just downright displeasing.
“I hope I am not interrupting.” He very much hopes he is.
Ms. Potts face does something before resting in mannered expression. Her shoulders raise an inch higher and back straightens as she fixes the ‘journalist’ with her gaze for a good second, then on him. Her voice is calm when she responds.
“No, you are not. I believe Mr. Crawford over here was about to leave.” The delivery of it makes sure to leave no room for arguments. Or so he believed until asshole over here.
“Yes. You are interrupting. Ms. Potts just answer this one question: Do you really believe you are suited to be in this position considering your relationship with Mr. Stark?”
What the fuck.
Ms. Potts eyes went cold, jaw tightened and Peter was very much agreed because what the actual fuck? There's no way in hell this man just asked what he just heard. And there is no way in hell he is letting this bastard remain here another second. Security on the way and whatnot, he needs to get this guy out now.
“Get out.”, the words are spat out of him before he can hesitate.
The guy turns, eyebrows scrunched and lips ticked down.
“Are you talking to me?”, incredulous he asks.
Incredulous? Are you fucking kidding him.
“Yes, I’m talking to you. Get out.” He punctuates this, by nicely pointing for the idiot, where the door is. “If you don’t, I swear to God, you’re going through the window.”
The journalist flinches back as if slapped. He recovers, face turning into an ugly sneer before walking right into Peters personal space. He probably thought he was menacing, but to Peter he looked ridiculous. Red in the face, mustache uneven and haggardly looking. If he was going for dressed up tractorist, the guy was definitely pulling it off.
“You can’t talk to me that way.”
“You can’t talk to Ms. Potts that way either.”
Peter could hear teeth grinding. Off, guy had a big attitude problem. Good thing he was used to big ego assholes. He just tilted head as if to ask ‘am I wrong?’, watching as this made Mr Crawford go a shade darker of red. Movement, made his eyes stray down to the man’s fists which were clenched a little too tight for his liking.
“You need to let me do my job.”
The nerve on him.
“What you need is to get escorted off the premises.” He stated.
The paparazzi, held his stare, nose twitching. When it apparently became clear that this wasn’t going up for discussion anymore, he gave Peter a glance over, as if sizing him up before throwing a look towards Ms. Potts, eyes sharpening. He twisted around, knocking his shoulder into the intern purposely. The CEO doesn’t even seem surprised by this turn of events, however something is working behind those eyes as she looks between Peter and the man.
“Ms. Potts – “
Oh fuck no. So what? He decided Ms. Potts was an easier target? First off, deathly wrong about that. Second, he was wrong on the account that Peter was just going to stand around and watch anymore.
“No, you don’t.”
He grabs the man by the back of the collar as if picking a kitten by the scruff and pulls him back. This, of course, elicits a reaction as the paparazzi turns halfway round, throwing an arm at him to get him to back off. More leverage. Peter grabs the arm twisting it behind the man’s back, the hand he has on the collar going forward latching onto the neck pushing. The man shouts a profanity (“yOu fucker!”), but he doesn’t relent, only twisting his arm harder. Knowing he has him restrained, his attention goes back on Ms. Potts, who is watching all of this with an unreadable look.
He opens his mouth to apologize for all that’s happening when the doors burst open revealing three men wearing black uniforms, with variable weapons latched to their belts. Across their chest is written security. They don’t waste a second having read the room fast and grabbing the apprehended man by the arms, giving him an approving look and a nod before dragging the guy out the room. No questions asked.
Now Peter is left alone with the company’s CEO in an awkward silence. He wipes his hands on his coat feeling sweaty. He is starting to be painfully aware of how he looks and about what he just did. His eyes rest on her heels. He can’t risk looking up and meeting whatever look she is giving him. Not to mention what happened two weeks ago with the thief too. God, does she know? Of course she knows. She is Pepper Potts, she knows everything that’s going on in this company. Oh my god, he just busted into the CEO’s office and strong armed a random person. Is he about to get fired? Wait. Is he going to get sued? He can’t handle that. Oh Jesus, May is going to have a heart attack.
“I did not need you to defend my honor.” He is waken from his stupor by an amused voice. He gathers the courage to look her in the eye. She is looking at him, eyebrow raised, mouth flat.
He shifts, fingers crossing. He opens him mouth, but closes it, blinking and tilting his head. He doesn’t understand. This is not about honor, but about the blatant disrespect, not to mention misogyny exemplified by that idiot. He is not going to let some rando talk to their CEO like that. Especially, when that CEO is an absolute angel, without which the company’s image and production would’ve dropped way more. I mean, we’re talking about Pepper Potts here. THE Pepper Potts.
“I wasn’t just going to let him talk to you like that. Ma’am.”
She just looks at him. Peter feels a drop of sweat go down his spine.
“I mean, how could he ask such a thing? Its ridiculous. I couldn’t believe my ears when he said that,” his hands fly up, face scrunched up, “Nobody in this company ever doubted the fact that you would be an amazing CEO. You’ve certainly proved that a million times by now. You raised the standard everywhere.” Ms. Potts throws him a pointed look. He backtracks. “I mean, I’m just an intern of course. You don’t have to listen to my opinion, but I’m sure my belief is the same of everyone’s here in this company and now I’m going to shut up. Yup.”
Theres a look in Ms. Potts eyes, but he blinks and its gone. Instead, its replaced by a pleased look, followed by annoyance as she looks at the mess created on her desk.
“Well then, I’m assuming you were here for a reason.” She says gesturing to him.
He remembers, not that he really forgot. Just different prioritization. “Um, yes ma’am. I was supposed to give this USB stick to the Section Supervisor that oversees the bio-engineering labs on floor 15. But I don’t know…”
“You’re referring to Mrs. Otway.” She supplies. Which absolutely befuddles Peter, because he is sure that there are more then 20 Section Supervisors and she knew exactly which one he was talking about. Does this mean she knows everybody in this company? That’s ridiculous… right? Out of the 93 floors, around half of them are for the Stark Company. With multiple offices, laboratories and experiment zones on half of those floors there have to be around..
Not aware of Peters turmoil going on she continues: “Yes, she was moved from her office because of a faulty pipe, however she isn’t on this floor, but rather one down. You will find her, I believe, in one of the Marketing Offices. You could just ask Miss Gafney about her whereabouts.”
Okay, now Peter is embarrassed on top of befuddled.
“Miss Gafney?”
“Yes, the administrative secretary that takes care of the Marketing Floor.”
“Thank you.”
Peter feels as though he should say something more. Ask her if she’s okay or something, but it isn’t probably his place to do that. So, an awkward silence fills space instead. Ms. Potts went back to rearranging the papers that are spread on the desk and on the floor. He looks back at his USB. Peter is hit with the thought, that it’s kinda ridiculous for such a technological advanced company to still be using paper documents and files. But actually, maybe they could be stolen if they were only in a digitalized version, which fair. He starts fidgeting with the USB stick. But still, this company does have some of the best security on earth though. Talking about security, what is it with them lately? They always get where they need to be later than they should.
“Mr.?”
His head snaps up. Ms. Potts is addressing him.
“Peter.”
“Mr. Peter?” She questions, amused.
God. Idiot. “I mean Parker.”
“Mr. Parker, shouldn’t you be on your way?”
Oh, big idiot. “You’re absolutely correct. As always, I mean, I’m just gonna go now. –“
“Goodbye, Mr. Parker.”
“- And thank you. Goodbye.”
He bolts, closing the door in his wake and going straight for the elevator. Way to go, Peter. Now he really should get this USB stick to Mrs. Otway.
Aldrich Killian is overjoyed. That fool, Stark, left without properly checking to see if he died, which wasn’t out of pure luck but rather because of the reduced intellect of the man. He told Stark that he was going to give him what he so graciously imparted to him. Desperation. And as he was making his way up the halls of the Stark Tower, he could feel that his goal was close. Pepper that bitch, is going to have to wait until he is done with her alcoholic boyfriend, but she is going to suffer too, for what she did to him.
He hears him
“- you’re telling me we don’t have the budget? Are you – “
Killian burns from the inside, rage churning his heart, his lungs. The same voice that mocked him all those years ago and left him like this.
He acts before he can properly think about it, hurling at the door with vengeance. Distantly he hears a woman scream, a metal sound and overwhelming silence as the doors close behind him. He isn’t so clouded as to throw himself at whatever is moving like an animal. He only wants one person and one person only. Tony Stark. Who is sitting so arrogantly at the head of the table in front of him, surrounded on both sides of the table by other idiots that probably kiss and lick the floor he walks on.
Stark seems surprised. Good he should be…. If his invention had been shit! Offense after offense. He basically insulting him, spitting on what he did just by breathing. Why is he surprised?! Of course he survived, his creation is superior to all. But alas, Stark is a genius blinded by his ego. In other words, a fool.
“You – “
“You!” He won’t let this bastard say another word.
Stark just blinks at him, slowly getting up from his seat. This only adds fire to what he feels. Aldrich is boiling, has been burning since they threw him in the fire all those years ago, left him to die as if he was some scum!
“You bastard! You thought I was dead? How much of an idiot can you be!” He advances. People jump in fear, shuffling towards the end of the table where Stark resides. Stark who looks annoyed.
“It was my life’s creation. I worked over it day and night for it to be what? A failure? Unlike you, I persevered! I did everything! I tried everything! Even if it meant my own blood and flesh. I created the ultimate evolution! You should’ve fallen at my feet and begged me to be part of this!”
Stark who looks bored.
“I told you this was the next step to the future! It could’ve been great! It could’ve been beautiful! If only you would’ve seen me for what I truly was instead of spitting on me!”
This fucking piece of shit!
“I told you I will make you despair!” It rips out of him, guttural and raw. “COME HERE –“
The door flies open behind him.
“Is everybody okay?!” A young voice rings out.
He turns slowly, seething. Idiots after idiots. Who interrupted him? Which dumbasses head does he have to rip off!?
It’s a literal teenager. A mere intern! A mere intern dares to try and stop him? He starts laughing. He can’t believe this. This feels like a goddamn crazy house.
“Kid, get ou – “
His fingers wrap around the first thing in his vicinity. A side step is all that’s needed. The window shatters beside Stark’s head, who ducks to the left like a coward.
“You! Shut up! I’m not done with you!”
Killian turns back to his new target. He locks eyes with the intern, whose eyes double in size as he sees HIM. Good! He should fear him. He should respect him. HE SHOULD
He lunges at him.
“YOU!”
Half a second later he is bent over in pain.
-
In Peter’s defense, what was he supposed to do in that situation?
Earlier he heard someone scream on the upper floors so he said an excuse to Marcus:
–
“I need to walk my plant.”
"Excuse me? Pete-"
–
And left. The elevator was taken. So he shouldered the emergency stairs door and started running, taking 3 stairs at a time. One floor, two floors, three floors, before he had realized he had no idea where he was going. He had stopped to think. Another shout. He thanked God, knowing it was a horrible thing to thank for, but thanks to that he had figured out he still needed to go even higher. He had stopped at each floor to try and distinguish where the source of the screaming was coming. Finally, after 8 floors he had heard the man clearly “-stead of spitting on me!”
In front of two doors, there was a tray on the ground and coffee spilt all over the carpet. That’s when the feeling of dread started. Worried, he went to pick it up, to figure out some type of clue to this.
“I told you I will make you despair!” Someone screamed. Directly from the door beside him. “COME HERE – “
He hadn't thought before busting through the doors, asking if everybody was okay.
And that brought everything to now. Well, when he saw an overly red man with glowing eyes throwing himself at him, he panicked and reacted.
Leg.
Directly in the balls.
Aunt May would be proud.
The man groaned, bending in half. Clearing his view. Oh my god. Is Tony Stark? Tony Stark who looks… pleasantly surprised? His face is starting to heat up, because Tony Stark is staring directly at him and wow this wasn’t the way Peter planned on meeting his hero, but life never is what you suspect it to be, right?
A hand grabs his legs, startling him and once again, purely out of instinct, he throws his arm, wanting to get away, before realizing, he had something in his hand. It was the coffee tray he picked from just outside. The metal tray makes a satisfying sound against the man’s head, knocking him effectively into the floor and away from Peter’s body parts thank you.
A bark of laugh resounds through the room. Changing his attention, Peter saw it was none other then Mr. Stark, who had started laughing so hard he was clutching the table. Peter’s mind was running half a mile a second, for the umpteenth time that month, wondering how he always got in these damned situations. Mr. Stark took a second to regain his composure before addressing him, with a grin on his face.
“What’s your name, kid?”
Peter had to be dreaming this shit, because he couldn’t do this anymore.
“Peter. Um Peter Parker, sir.” He stammered out. “I’m so sorry for just barging in. It’s just- I heard someone screaming and so I just came to check it out and he was doing all… that and well – “
“Calm down, it’s not like I’m gonna eat you or something.”
Peter stopped, taking a breath.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“What are you sorry for?”
What does he mean what he is sorry for, like, maybe for hitting the third person this month with something over the head? Oh my god, does he know about the other incidents? He is so getting fired.
“You can only be sorry for becoming my new favorite person after Pepper.” Mr. Stark tells him coming closer and closer, wide smile on his face.
What? Peter is pretty sure his jaw is on the floor and he should pick it up, but he’s stuck in place. His limbs don’t want to listen to him. Obviously, since he hit a man with a metal tray in the head, who by the way, is slowly getting up. They should do something about that, because he looks really mad.
“Mr. Stark?”
Said man is basically an arm’s length away from Peter and he really needs to calm down before his heart pushes its way out of his chest. Instead of thinking about how he would rather melt into the floor, he points at the animated tomato on the floor.
“Should I do something about him?”, he questions.
He swears Mr. Stark’s eyes sparkle as he throws an arm over his shoulders. He looks like a cat who found a new mouse to play with. Peter doesn’t want to be a mouse.
“Nah, I got it covered.”
As soon as those words are out of his mouth a suit of armor, specifically an Iron Man suit, flies in through the broken window and latches on the weird guy.
“Friday, take him away, preferably over the Atlantic Ocean.” There’s a hidden glee in that tone that Peter doesn’t want to delve into. The suit nods and flies away, scaring the workers by the window.
“Now,” Peter can feel the word reverberate through him as the Tony Stark turns his full attention on him, “You are going to tell me all about yourself Mr. Peter Parker.”
“What?” He squeaks out.
Mr. Stark’s smile is sharper than a sharks as he starts leading him away.
“Tell me what department are you from?”
“The chemical engineering department originally.” He says. Hopes he said. He turns his head to ask for help, but everybody else is just as in much shock as he is. Mr. Stark tuts, drawing his attention back on him.
“That’s right, eyes here. Now tell me, what do you mean originally?” There’s so much curiosity in that one questions that it basically guilt trips Peter into answering.
“Well, um, sir. I usually work in the chem-engineering labs, but I also have projects in the mechanical and computer engineering laboratories.”
“Wonderful. Friday, clear my schedule. You,” he accentuated by pointing a finger in his chest, “tell me more.”
Peter knew in that moment that he was going to go home very very late that day.
Peter wakes up in a daze the next day. Does everything on auto pilot. He eats whatever is in his plate, drinks his coffee, goes to college in a similar state. Gwen and Harry try to talk to him, but leave him alone after only getting “uh-huh”, “yeah” and “mmm” as a response. MJ calls him just as he leaves college and he is finally waken from his inner turmoil because he can finally tell someone what the fuck is happening in his life. As he makes his way towards the tower, she graciously puts him on speaker for Ned to hear as he spills everything that’s been bothering him this entire month. His girlfriend calls him an idiot and his best friend calls him a cool idiot. They both tell him his on his own as if he doesn’t already know that. The call finalizes just as he steps inside the cursed building. It has to be cursed because otherwise what the fuck.
Peter goes to scan his STARK_ID to get in, but someone steps in front of him. It’s a built man, in a black suit and he recognizes him from yesterday. The fever dream day. It’s Mr. Hogan, otherwise known as Happy, Mr. Starks personal bodyguard and head of security. Oh god, he knew he was getting fired. The man looks at him, then nods his way in an approving way.
“You have been issued a new badge Mr. Parker.”
He? Has? What?
“I’ll be taking your old STARK_ID for security reasons.” He says as though what’s happening is perfectly reasonable.
Peter numbly gives his badge to the man. In his extended hand a new ID is dropped.
“Well, have a great day kid. And don’t lose the badge.” His tone is serious. Peter knows this is serious, his head isn’t wrapping around the situation though. So, he just stares. Mr. Hogan nods once again and leaves.
What.
He doesn’t know how long he stands there before he looks down at the badge in his palm. There it is in bolded letters.
PERSONAL ASSISTANT – TONY STARK
He’s losing his mind. Peter blinks, because that’s not all, underneath that title is another line, not bolded, but italicized.
INTERN – SECURITY
He reads it again and then again. He raises his head. Scans his badge. Goes in.
What the fuck.