Monaco happened on Sunday.
I watched Whiplash take on Tony and get knocked out. And I heard about the birthday party Tony threw for himself — even though it wasn't his birthday — acting like a man who had only days to live, because as far as he knew, he did.
On Monday my homeroom teacher announced that the entire class would be going to the Stark Expo on Friday for a field trip. Everyone was thrilled.
Me? I knew I was in serious trouble.
The whole school week I was a wreck. I spent most of my time at the Baxter Building building countermeasures for what I knew was coming — an armed drone army unleashed on a crowd of civilians.
I built an EMP gun powerful enough to fry their systems entirely, prepared a fresh batch of reinforced concrete webbing twice as strong as my previous formula, and put Johnny on speed dial. He didn't know why, but he promised to come if I really needed him.
On Friday I came to school wearing my black muscle shirt and leggings under my normal clothes. My Spider-Man jacket and web-shooters were tucked into a hidden compartment in my bag, just in case.
Classes crawled by. After school we all piled into the bus with Mr. Dunkan, our English teacher, and set off for the expo.
I sat next to Felicia. She looked at me for a moment. "Nervous?"
"Yes," I said. No point lying to her.
"Why?"
"Because it's a Stark expo. Have you seen the past few months of his life? The man's a chaos magnet. I wouldn't be shocked if the suits of armour became sentient and started attacking people."
Flash burst out laughing from two rows back. "Damn, Parker, that's bleak! You said you weren't funny. There's no way something like that actually happens!"
"Better safe than sorry." I felt the weight of my bag and the weapons inside it. Sue had been understandably uneasy about me using Baxter resources to manufacture weapons, but once I'd explained what I was afraid of, she'd come around — though she'd remained quietly concerned about what she diplomatically called my 'level of preparedness.'
We arrived at the expo, filed off the bus, and were handed over to a guide who walked us through the various exhibits. Then we reached the main attraction: an exclusive press event hosted by Hammer Industries in the Stark Expo's main auditorium.
We were seated near the back. The front rows were cordoned off for VIPs.
I could feel it. The whole setup had the atmosphere of a trap being sprung. I kept picturing the drones pouring out of the stage and tearing into the crowd. I needed to find a way out before it started.
I stood up and tried to slip away quietly.
"Yo, Parker! Where do you think you're going?" Flash called out, drawing the eyes of half the class.
"Bathroom," I said.
"Hell no, sit down!"
"Do you want me to embarrass myself, Flash?" I asked, keeping my tone even.
"I — ah," Flash faltered.
"Peter, I really must insist you sit down," Mr. Dunkan said. "This is an exclusive event. I don't think they'll allow you to simply walk out."
I was nudged back into my seat, quietly furious at the timing.
"You're not actually going to be sick, are you?" Felicia asked in a low voice.
"No," I muttered.
MJ leaned over from my other side. "Hey — are you alright? You're really not looking well."
"I'm fine. Just nerves," I said.
She didn't look convinced but let it go.
The event opened with Justin Hammer taking the stage. He gave a long, self-congratulatory speech about something — the general thrust being that his was bigger than Tony's, in one respect or another. Then he introduced them.
The Hammer Drones. Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines — eight units per branch. Then came the pièce de résistance: the War Machine unit, Rhodes inside it. The crowd erupted in patriotic fervour. Everyone cheered.
I sat in silence.
And then Iron Man came blasting through the glass ceiling, and the whole auditorium lost its collective mind.
Tony was whispering something to Rhodes. I had maybe five seconds to brace before—
The glass ceiling shattered. Shards rained down on the crowd.
"Get down!" I yelled, grabbing Felicia and MJ and pulling them both low, covering them with my back. The glass hammered into me — I heard people screaming, the sharp sound of chaos spreading through the auditorium. My bag absorbed most of the worst of it, stuffed as it was with gear.
I straightened and looked around. "Is everyone alright?"
"I — I think so," Harry managed.
"Mr. Dunkan is hurt!" someone cried.
I turned. Our teacher had taken a large shard of glass directly to the back — he was on the floor, writhing in pain. Liz was crouched beside him, holding him, tears streaming down her face.
"What happened?" MJ pressed, horrified.
"He covered me," Liz sobbed. "He threw himself in front of me."
They both looked shattered. But I couldn't afford to stay in one place. The drones were already descending from the stage, spreading out into the crowd — not killing people directly, not yet, but in their chase of Tony, people were going to get caught in the crossfire.
I turned to Flash. "Flash — pick him up."
"What?"
"We're getting out. The drones are coming right for us." I pointed at the advancing units, weapons systems already whirring. Around us, people were flooding toward the exits. "Put him on your back. Now."
"But I—"
"Flash, please!" Liz begged.
He nodded. "Yeah — yeah, of course." We carefully loaded Mr. Dunkan onto his back. I looked around, tracking the drone formations.
"We move away from the main exits — they're too exposed. Stay away from the drones and get to open air. Move fast and don't stop."
"Got it," Harry said.
We ran.
More drones poured out of the auditorium behind us. Several fired missiles at Tony — most missed and hit the crowded street instead, sending chunks of concrete into the air.
"Keep to the sides!" I shouted. "Away from the impact zones!"
We broke left, cutting around the edge of the building — and then a second drone squad moved to intercept us, cutting off the route and levelling their weapon systems at us.
I reached into my bag, hand closing around the web-shooters. If I had to break cover, then so be it—
And then every drone in front of us was bathed in a roaring wall of orange flame.
"Sorry I'm late!" Johnny Storm dropped out of the sky above us, grinning like this was the best afternoon he'd ever had.
"Not a problem," I said, breathing for the first time in minutes. "Light them up."
"With pleasure." He melted through their chassis in seconds, reducing the lot to steaming puddles of slag.
I turned to him quickly. "Sue and the others?"
"On their way, but don't hold your breath. I'm the only one who can fly and Ben doesn't fit in most cars."
"Understood. The drones are targeting Stark but keep missing — their missiles are hitting civilians. Can you intercept the ordnance before it reaches the ground?"
"No idea," he said cheerfully. "Should be interesting to find out!" He shot back into the sky.
I turned back to the group. They were staring at me.
"What?" I asked.
"That was Johnny Storm!" Flash looked like his head might come off.
"Yes."
"You know Johnny Storm?!"
"He's a colleague. Now — do you want to stand here, or do you want to get Mr. Dunkan to a hospital?"
Flash snapped back to the moment. We moved.
We cut through the melted wreckage of the drones and sprinted for the parking lot. The expo grounds were chaos — every exit was a bottleneck of people trying to flee, cars blocked every road.
"So," Felicia said as we ran, her breathing controlled and even. "You work with the Fantastic Four."
"For," I said. "Not with. For."
"Ah. That's the mysterious job, then."
"You see why I don't advertise it."
We reached the bus and loaded in. Mr. Dunkan was lowered carefully across the rear seats with Liz to watch over him. I moved to the driver and told him to get us out — but before we could pull forward, a drone dropped out of the sky and landed directly in front of the vehicle.
The bus windows rattled as people screamed. The drone straightened up and turned toward us.
"Move!" I shoved past the driver and pressed down on the accelerator. The bus lurched forward and rammed the drone, pinning it under the front wheels. It opened fire, rounds punching through the bodywork.
"Keep going!" I yelled. I wrenched the door open and pulled the EMP gun from my bag.
The drone tore free of the wheels and shoved the bus sideways. It skidded. I jumped clear and rolled, coming up in a crouch.
The drone locked on to the bus again. Weapon systems cycling.
I ran at it and got between it and the vehicle. It turned toward me — and stopped.
"Hey," I said quietly. It looked at me.
I pressed the EMP gun to its head. "Die."
I pulled the trigger. A focused electromagnetic pulse tore through its internal systems in a fraction of a second. Every servo, every circuit, every gyroscope seized and died. The drone collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut, crashing to the ground in a dead heap.
I stood there panting, weapon in hand, and spat on the asphalt. "Piece of junk."
I climbed back onto the bus. Thirty pairs of eyes were looking at me.
"Everyone alright?" I asked.
"Y-yeah," Harry said, in a voice somewhat smaller than usual. "We're fine."
"Good." I looked at the driver. "Please get us out of here."
"Sure thing, boss," he said, and pulled onto the road.
As we drove away, the drone I'd left behind detonated in a massive fireball. The class watched the Stark Expo turn into a lit portrait of hell through the bus windows.
I looked out at it and made myself breathe. I regretted deeply not being out there as Spider-Man — but Johnny and the others would handle it. They had to.
"I don't know about the rest of you," I said quietly, "but I'm never going on a field trip again."
Everyone stared at me like I'd grown a second head.
"...What? Bad timing?"
Felicia stood up from her seat. "You noble bastard," she said — and then she vaulted over the seat and kissed me.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. Her fingers went into my hair, her legs locked around me, and she kissed me like she was making a definitive statement.
I was beyond surprised. But I caught her by the hips and kissed her back, because what else do you do?
She pulled back eventually. A thin line of saliva bridged the distance between us. She was breathing hard. Emerald eyes inches from mine.
"Damn," she whispered.
I agreed. "Damn."
"You're a good kisser."
"Thanks."
"Want to do it again?"
"Oh God, yes," I said, and pulled her back in.
We drove to St. Matthew's and got Mr. Dunkan into the emergency room. Then everyone was brought back to school, where families had gathered in the car park, having seen the news.