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Two months later.
Far side of the Moon. The Watcher Station.
Under the station's massive training dome, Steve Rogers was breaking a sweat.
The black Plumbers tactical suit fit like a second skin — lighter than anything S.H.I.E.L.D. had ever produced, with built-in gravity compensation that made his century-old knees feel twenty years younger. The shield in his hand wasn't vibranium — it was a high-density photonic construct that Jake had fabricated from Galvan blueprints. Harder. Lighter. And it glowed.
"Left side! Bucky!"
"On it!"
Bucky Barnes — hair cropped short, eyes clear, the Brooklyn kid fully restored — flanked from the side. His mechanical arm had been rebuilt by Jake using Upgrade: streamlined nano-vibranium that could shift mid-combat into a taser, a grappling line, or a shield. It moved like it was part of him. Because now, it was.
"Training complete. Time: forty-five seconds." The station AI chimed.
"Adapting well, I see." Jake stood on the second-floor command platform, coffee in hand.
"Unbelievable." Steve wiped his forehead. "Lighter than vibranium, stronger defense. And the gravity system — honestly, this is a hundred times better than anything S.H.I.E.L.D. ever issued."
"This place is paradise." Bucky flexed the new arm. "No kill orders. Just... peace."
"Enjoy it." Jake sipped his coffee, eyes drifting to the blue planet outside. "In my experience, peace is usually the overture before the storm."
The main screen went red.
[WARNING: Abnormal energy signature detected — Earth surface.]
[Spectrum analysis: Residual Galvanic Mechamorph signal.]
[Location: New York airspace. Stark Industries transport flight path.]
"That's Upgrade's signal?" Gwen was at the console in seconds. "Jake — when did you last use Upgrade?"
"Berlin." Jake's expression hardened. "When I shut down Ross's systems. Some nano-liquid metal must have been left in the servers. I didn't recover it all."
He set down the coffee.
"Someone found my scraps and built a weapon."
"Steve. Bucky. Gwen." Jake's voice shifted to operational. "Gear up. This is the Plumbers' first field mission."
"Target?" Steve's helmet went on. Eyes switched to combat mode.
"New York. Recover the alien tech. And while we're at it — save a little spider who's in over his head."
Earth. New York. Ten thousand feet.
A Stark Industries stealth transport — optically camouflaged, carrying the core assets of Avengers Tower — cruised through the cloud layer.
On the fuselage, a fight was already in progress.
"Hey! Mr. Bird Guy! You can't take that!"
Peter Parker clung to the tail fin in his red-and-blue hoodie — no suit, no AI, no web-wings. Tony had taken everything back after the ferry disaster. All Peter had was his powers, his webs, and the stubborn refusal to stop being Spider-Man even when Spider-Man had been grounded.
Adrian Toomes. The Vulture. Mechanical wings spread wide, eyes burning with the particular fury of a working man who'd watched billionaires profit from disaster while his crew ate scraps.
"Get LOST, bug!"
"Do you know how much scrap we pick up just to feed our families? Stark and that alien have one fight, and the debris that falls is worth more than I'll make in a lifetime! Why do THEY get to play god while WE eat dirt?!"
He raised a weapon — cobbled together, ugly, functional. In the barrel's core, a mass of dark green liquid writhed like something alive.
Upgrade cells. Jake's leftover nano-metal from the Berlin hack, scavenged and weaponized.
"This thing eats firewalls for breakfast!"
ZZT—!
The dark green beam hit the transport's engine. Nano-data invaded the flight systems like a living virus.
"WARNING: Logic virus detected. Systems compromised." The transport AI reported its own death.
The plane lost power. A hundred tons of steel began to fall — straight toward the Coney Island amusement park below.
"No-no-no-NO!" Peter fired every web he had, trying to hold the wing. "Mr. Stark! Happy! ANYONE?!"
Static. Nobody was coming.
Peter looked down. The Ferris wheel was getting bigger. Fast.
If I'm nothing without the suit, then I'm nothing at all?
No.
"AAAAAAHH!" He roared and pulled — every ounce of spider-strength hauling on the web-lines, his arms screaming, his shoulders threatening to dislocate, his body becoming a human drag chute for a falling aircraft.
It wasn't enough.
Then—
WOMMMMM!!!
A brilliant green pillar of light tore through the clouds and enveloped the falling transport.
A magnetic field descended — invisible, immense, and absolute.
ZZT-ZZT-ZZT—!
The plane's optical camouflage shorted out. The invisible fuselage flickered, materialized, and stopped. Dead in the air. Fifty meters above the Ferris wheel. Hovering as if held by an invisible giant.
"Wha—?" Peter dangled from the wing. "Maglev?"
Vulture jerked his head up.
Floating above the transport was an alien with a detached, hovering head, pincer hands, and a body wreathed in visible yellow magnetic field lines — the same lines that were gripping every piece of metal in the aircraft's frame.
Lodestar.
"Stark's planes really aren't built to last." Jake's metallic voice resonated through the night. "Or maybe the pilot's just terrible."
"It's YOU!" Peter's voice cracked. "The super awesome alien hero!"
"Save the fan mail and hold on."
Lodestar swung his hands. The magnetic field guided the transport down — smooth, precise, setting it on the beach like placing a model on a shelf.
"Damn it!" Vulture's eyes lit with greed. "That watch — if I can get that watch—"
He raised the Upgrade rifle. "This gun was MADE from your cells! It can counter you!"
The dark green beam fired—
"You want to touch him? Ask me first."
A red-white-and-blue photonic shield came spinning through the dark and sliced the gun barrel clean off.
SNAP! The weapon exploded. Nano-liquid splattered.
Sam kicked Vulture sideways before the man could recover. White webbing descended from above — thick, precise strands pinning the Vulture to the sand.
Gwen dropped on a web-line. "Nice pajamas. The red-and-blue thing is a bit retro, though."
"Ghost-Spider?!" Peter's voice hit a frequency only dogs could hear. "And Falcon! And — CAPTAIN AMERICA?!"
Steve caught his returning shield and stepped from the shadows, smiling. "Good work, kid. Though next time — maybe don't solo an alien weapons dealer in a hoodie."
Peter was certain he was dreaming.
Green flash. Jake detransformed, walked to the pinned Vulture, and crushed the broken gun under his boot. The Omnitrix pulsed — recovering the rogue Upgrade cells, pulling the nano-metal back into its system where it belonged.
"You people—" Vulture struggled. "Ross will find you!"
"Tell him to check the Moon."
Jake turned to Peter.
"Hey, Underoos." He looked the kid over — the homemade suit, the scraped knuckles, the expression of someone who'd just held a falling plane with his bare hands. "Is Tony still mad?"
"Y-yeah." Peter's head dropped. "I messed up."
"He's trying to protect you. Even if that man would rather build a suit of armor than say 'I care about you' out loud."
Jake flicked something to Peter — a small chip, engraved with the Plumbers' hourglass symbol.
"Admission ticket. If there's ever a day you can't handle things alone, or you just need someone to talk to about growing pains — activate it."
He clapped Peter on the shoulder.
"Remember — even in pajamas, you just saved a plane full of people. That's what makes a hero."
"Move out."
A green portal opened. Steve, Bucky, Gwen, Sam — one by one, they stepped through.
WOMMM. The portal closed.
Minutes later, the whine of repulsors descended.
"Peter! Are you okay?"
Tony landed, faceplate open, scanning the scene — undamaged plane, restrained Vulture, beach intact. Confusion replaced panic.
"The engines are completely destroyed. How did this thing land in one piece?"
His armor sensors detected residual magnetic field signatures in the air. Strong ones.
Tony's eyes found what Peter was clutching in his fist.
"You did this?" One eyebrow up. Tone carefully neutral.
Peter remembered Jake's advice. He lied badly.
"Uh... yeah! I used... a lot of webs! And, um... luck?"
It was the worst lie Tony had ever heard. And Tony had heard Fury lie.
But he didn't call it out. He looked at the empty beach behind Peter, and the corner of his mouth turned up — just slightly — acknowledging an old friend's handiwork without saying a word.
"Nice work, kid."
Tony clapped Peter's shoulder. "Looks like you were right. Without the suit — you're still Spider-Man."
A pause.
"Let's go home. I'll build you a new one. Those pajamas need to go."
[Plumbers — first field mission: complete!]
[Upgrade cells recovered. Crash crisis resolved.]
[Spider-Man favorability: WORSHIP.]
[Iron Man favorability: TACIT UNDERSTANDING.]
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