"Sir, target locked."
Jarvis's voice echoed as Tony's holographic projection displayed the profile of a teenager.
Peter Parker.
A high schooler from Queens.
But he had appeared in multiple domestic security incidents—always as a mysterious young hero.
"OK."
Tony snapped his fingers, mood slightly lifted. At least he'd found a potential ally.
If only Saitama were here.
But contacting him was next to impossible.
…
Queens, New York.
After a long day of school, Peter Parker returned home, arms full of scraps salvaged from a junkyard.
He often tinkered with inventions in his attic.
"Dinner soon! Oh, and your project grant was approved, Peter," Aunt May called warmly.
Peter blinked in confusion. "Grant?"
Rushing upstairs, he froze.
A man was already waiting for him.
Familiar.
"Stark?! You're Tony Stark?!" Peter gasped.
Iron Man.
Everyone knew him—hero, mogul, philanthropist.
But Peter hadn't applied for any grant.
"Nice job, kid. Great reflexes, solid strength… and webs? Not bad."
Tony grinned.
"I don't know what you mean," Peter tried to play dumb.
Tony tugged a cord. A Spider-Man suit dropped from the ceiling.
Peter scrambled to hide it.
Ever since the spider bite, he'd gained superhuman strength.
He'd secretly fought crime as Spider-Man—his greatest secret, hidden even from Aunt May.
But Stark knew everything.
"This footage from Manhattan last week? Impressive. But that costume… it needs work. Those webs—high-strength adhesive? I can do better."
A cascade of holographic recordings exposed Peter completely.
"You're Spider-Man. And I need your help, Peter Parker."
"…Uh."
Peter was stunned.
After much convincing, the young hero agreed to join Tony's mission to restore justice.
Donning his suit, he followed Stark out the window.
"Mr. Stark, when you wear the armor, how do you, uh… handle bathroom breaks?"
The moment they left, Peter unleashed a barrage of chatter, starstruck. Posters of Stark hung in his room; now he was flying with the legend himself.
Tony sighed. Maybe bringing this chatterbox wasn't the best idea.
They swung and flew through Queens.
Suddenly—BOOM!
A massive explosion rocked the streets. Screams filled the air, cars piled up in wrecks, alarms wailed.
"Mr. Stark! Over there!"
Mask on, Peter launched webs, swinging into action.
"This kid…" Tony muttered, summoning his armor and blasting forward.
At the blast center, flames roared.
"Hey! Causing chaos isn't a good life choice, pal. Maybe I should web you up and drop you off at the NYPD. How about some repentance time?"
Spider-Man joked, clinging to a wall.
A figure emerged from the flames.
Peter's jaw dropped.
"You?! Saitama? The superhero Saitama?!"
The bald caped figure looked identical—shiny head, cape, gloves.
But instead of saving, he was destroying—slaughtering civilians.
"Saitama?!"
Tony's eyes widened as he landed. At first, joy. Then fury.
"You're not him! Who the hell are you?!"
This "Saitama" looked right but moved wrong.
Too much expression. Too much rage.
"Sir, facial reconstruction detected. Height mismatch: 0.223 cm shorter than Saitama."
Jarvis confirmed.
Not the real one.
An impostor.
But why frame Saitama now?
"Wait, he's not Saitama? Looks exactly like him! I really admire Saitama—I heard he's stronger than Iron Man! Mr. Stark, should I just web him up and bring him to you?"
Peter babbled before leaping at the impostor.
The fake Saitama snarled and attacked.
Strength on par with Captain America—matching Peter blow for blow.
But Spider-Man's agility gave him the edge, pushing the impostor back.
Tony's frown deepened. Something felt horribly wrong.
And then—
"Yo, been a while, Stark. Uh… who's that guy? He looks like me?"
Tony turned.
His jaw nearly hit the ground.
The real Saitama stood beside him.
Glossy bald head, blank dead-fish eyes, yellow jumpsuit, red gloves.
Scratching his scalp, he watched the battle with confusion.
"That one… is supposed to be me?"
(End of Chapter)
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