Chapter Text
Disclaimer:
This is a fanfiction and is in no way affiliated with Marvel. The Avengers and Spider-Man franchise belong to Marvel/Disney and I am not making money off of this story.
Orb-Weaver: 3000 by BookwormDoll
Chapter 1: Casey…Parker
Climbing high, flat walls; sensing danger before it happens; shooting webs with special devices on my wrists carrying a very delicate solution of Web Fluid that I made myself. I’ve had most of those abilities since I was born. Why? I have absolutely no clue. Could be that, when I was young, I was bitten by the same kind of radioactive spider that brought Spider-Man onto Earth. Or I’m somehow unknowingly related to him. Who knows?
My name? Well, most call me Casey, but some just call me Parker. Yet others know not me, but my other self: Orb-Weaver, my superhero alter ego. Yep, that’s right. I’m a superhero and have been for six years. I’ve worked with Spider-Man on multiple occasions and in the process, I have made enemies in common with him. Don’t worry, I have my own villains too. Let’s see…there’s New Goblin (the son of Spider-Man’s most common foe, the Green Goblin), Owen Octavius who recreated his father’s tentacle debacle and has become the next ‘Doc-Ock’, and The Lizard Jr. who, for once, isn’t a descendant of a previous Spider-Man villain but simply The Lizard’s ‘Top #1 Fan’. And there’s…well, yeah, that’s pretty much it.
Regulating all the crime fighting along with my school schedule and family life would be hard enough if my parents knew about me. But…my parents know nothing, and I would like to keep it that way. They would freak out if they knew. Speaking of my parents; my dad, Peter Parker, teaches science at my school and my mom, Michelle Jones Parker (or just MJ), teaches art, also at my school. Because of their jobs, unfortunately, my absences from school (which, I’ll have you know, are strictly for superhero business) have not gone unnoticed. I’m not the only one though, my dad has often been caught needing a substitute…so much in fact that I am surprised he hasn’t been fired yet.
We have a nice house in my dad’s hometown of Queens, New York near the old property for The Avengers Tower. Sometimes some of the remaining Avengers would come through town whether for Avengery things or for being here for the fun of it. I got to meet Steve Rogers when I was almost eleven years old; he came to see my father (dad often consulted with the Avengers but advice was all he gave). He taught me how to throw his shield and that’s when our window broke. I knew what I wanted to do with my powers after meeting Captain America; and so, my Spidey career began then. Bruce Banner came to my science class a couple times as a special guest. Clint Barton taught me archery when I was twelve and into camping. I had only ever heard of Thor, and Black Widow was no longer with us. There was only one more Avenger that I would do practically anything to meet. Tony Stark, aka Iron Man. Someone I have only seen pictures of, as he gave his life to save the world about a decade ago. I know my dad must’ve been close with him because every time the subject of Mr. Stark came up, he would get silent and a little grumpy at times. Also, because my favorite picture in the whole house depicts Peter with Mr. Stark right after dad’s internship ended. I have always been fascinated by Mr. Stark’s accomplishments not just as himself but also as his alter ego, Iron Man.
Right now, I’m sitting at the dinner table with my dad while mom is getting dinner ready.
“How was school, Casey?” my dad asks, like every night, starting the textbook conversation.
“Eh. The usual. Classes, boring teachers, Mystery Meat, and still no friends,” I say as I put my long blonde hair into a high ponytail. Even so, my hair still lands on the middle of my back.
“I’m sure you will find a friend soon. It’s only a matter of time.”
Normally we would just be silent now but occasionally, I would try to change things up. If I couldn’t meet Mr. Stark, then I wanted to learn about him. And what’s better than personal-experience-based stories?
“Dad?” I ask cautiously.
“Yes?”
“What was Mr. Stark like?” I hold my breath, waiting to see if he will answer. I like to jump the question on him in hopes of a more in-depth answer.
He didn’t answer right away. After a heavy, tired breath, he finally spoke, “He…he was a very remarkable man. A genius. He was always there for me during my internship and he made up for his…um…ego with his heroism.”
He seemed uncomfortable as always, so I dropped the conversation. My mom came in just then with dinner, which we ate in pure silence. I used this quiet time to think about how to find out more about my hero without upsetting my father. ‘Looks like I’ll need to take a different approach’, I thought as I shoved my hamburger into my mouth. I could borrow a laptop from school and use it to research about him. But I’ll need a reason to borrow the laptop. I needed to get myself homework. Unnecessary homework that would nonetheless let me get what I needed. I went to bed that night with a plan formed and a wide grin on my face.
“I know you miss him, Peter,” MJ was snuggled up next to her husband in bed.
“You know something, MJ?”
“Hmm?”
“I really wish he was here. I know Casey really wants to see him and it pains me that I can’t help her with that. He’d love her.”
“He would…” MJ muttered as she fell asleep.
Peter waited until MJ was asleep before turning to his bedside table. He reached for a pair of glasses and placed them on his face.
“E.D.I.T.H.?” he spoke softly as to not wake up MJ.
“Yes, Peter?” a robotic lady-like voice answered.
“Play file fifty-two.”
“Full screen, sir?”
“Yes.”
Peter’s bedroom ceiling disappeared to be replaced by an image of Tony Stark sitting on a couch in his cabin. The video that was placed in file fifty-two, Tony’s last recording on E.D.I.T.H., started to play:
“Hey Peter. Look, if you’re watching this, that means that you’ve inherited E.D.I.T.H.. And if you’ve inherited E.D.I.T.H., that means something has happened to me. I want you to know that you’re doing an amazing job. That’s why I made you an Avenger. Fun fact, I was going to make you one when you came right after we moved. I knew you were ready for it. Um, good news! I figured out how to time travel to bring yo—I mean, everybody back. To bring everybody back. Uh, hey, will you make sure my suits are being taken care of? Don’t be afraid to take one out for a spin. And, also, look after Pepper and Morgan too, please. Keep them safe. By the way, I put the blueprint for the arch reactor in file fifty-one in case you need it. Don’t forget, Even Dead I’m The Hero. I love you, Peter.”
And with those last words ringing in his ear, the bedroom ceiling returned.
“Do you need anything else, Peter?” E.D.I.T.H. asked.
It took him a minute to respond, “Uh…no, no I’m good.”
Peter took E.D.I.T.H. off and set the A.I. glasses back on his bedside table. As he was drifting off to sleep, he whispered, “I miss you, Tony.”
I walked through a busy Queens High School the next morning thinking only of Mr. Stark. I was excited to get the computer from school. I just needed to get my English teacher to give me an essay. In this class we get to use computers, but we can only take them home if we have an essay. So, as soon as I sat down, I turned my computer on. The moment the Apple disappeared and the home screen glowed, I want straight into Safari to type in, Tony Stark. Website after website beckoned me to click on them but I kept moving downward on the page. I was about to click on Tony Stark: His Life Story Written by J. J. Jameson of the Daily Bugle when I heard an ‘Ahem’ on my right. I turned my head to see Mrs. Shuyler (my teacher) looking from me to my computer in a very stern manner.
“What are you doing, Miss Parker?” she demanded.
“I…uh…” I looked down in embarrassment as the whole class snickered.
“Your punishment for not paying attention to our lesson is to wright a five-page essay on Tony Stark.”
“Got it!” I said this with a little too much enthusiasm and caught Mrs. Shuyler off guard. I smiled for the rest of the class in silent victory.
I skipped dinner so that I could work on my essay. J. J. Jameson’s account, while it was titled about Mr. Stark, seemed to be more in line with a news report stating that Spider-Man was a menace. I didn’t believe it, of course. When you’ve saved the world with Spider-Man, you can’t call him a menace. Either way, it’s fun to destroy J. J.’s billboards across New York. Especially with my fellow Spidey.
I found another website to find topics for my essay. Through this research, I figured out that my father wasn’t the only one with something special with Mr. Stark. Spider-Man was said to be one of Tony’s closest friends. It also stated that Mr. Stark’s best friend was a guy named Happy Hogan. I also found that he married Pepper Potts and had a baby girl named Morgan. Maybe I could find some of these people and get some firsthand information about Mr. Stark.
“Dad?” I ask the following Saturday morning.
“Yes?” he responds.
“Do you know how I could get ahold of a Happy Hogan, Pepper Potts-Stark, or Morgan Stark? Please, it’s for a school project.”
My dad’s face goes emotionlessly blank as he sets his breakfast fork down. As usual when talking about a Stark, it takes him a minute to answer, “Um, yes. Happy lives a few houses down from your school and Pepper lives in a cabin on the outskirts of town. Morgan will probably be in college. Her college is close to your school, so she is probably staying with Happy right now.”
That’s awesome! Now I might be able to talk to Happy and Morgan all in one day, “Thanks Dad! I’m going to go over there now,” I say as I grab my bag and my phone and head out the door.
I knock on Mr. Hogan’s door and a man who looks to be in his 70’s answers, “Hello?”.
“His, is this the residence of Mr. Happy Hogan?”
“Yes.”
“May I please speak with him?”
“You already are. Come in.”
Happy gestures me to walk into the small but beautiful home. “What can I help you with?” he asks as I sit down on a leather chair.
“First, is Morgan Stark here?” I inquire.
“Yes, she is. MORGAN!” Happy screams Miss Stark’s name so loud, I swear I almost went deaf.
Footsteps sound as a young woman walks into the room. I’m breath taken at how much she looks like her father (based on what I have seen in pictures). The same visible cheekbone, long dark brown hair, and somewhat thick eyebrows. Her eyes are the same shining brown. And her smile, oh her smile. It’s an exact replica of the smile I see in Mr. Stark’s pictures.
“Hello,” Morgan says with that flashing smile of hers.
“Uh, hi,” I say back. “My name is Casey Parker, and I wanted to ask you some questions about your father, Tony Stark, for a school project. Would that be okay?”
“Go for it,” Morgan sits down, “Happy will probably know more though.”
I start asking the generic questions like how Mr. Stark became Iron Man while recording the whole thing on my phone and writing notes in a small book.
“My final question for you guys is, Mr. Stark obviously second thought about a lot of things. What is the one thing that he never second thought?”
Happy and Morgan exchange meaningful glances before answering in unison, “Peter Parker being Spider-Man.”