Chapter Text
Tony prided himself on many things.
Enjoying it when people disagreed with him was not one of them.
Especially not when they were stubborn idiots who didn’t understand jack shit.
“FRIDAY,” he said, watching Manhattan slide beneath the Quinjet, “remind me again where the Spider-kid lives.”
Since Rogers had apparently decided to be difficult, Tony needed backup.
Preferably the kind that could lift cars and punch holes in concrete. Spider-kid checked both boxes.
The hologram blinked.
“…Queens,” FRIDAY said carefully. “Is there a reason you are asking now?”
“Nope,” Tony replied, waving her off. “Just curiosity. Take us there.”
FRIDAY hesitated. Actually hesitated.
Tony had no idea how she managed that—only that it annoyed him.
“As you wish,” she said, tone just this side of smug.
Which was new. And rude.
The Quinjet descended.
Tony was halfway through rehearsing a charming, mostly non-threatening pitch when his sensors screamed.
“Okay,” he frowned. “That’s weird.”
His sensors never screamed in Queens.
Queens screamed back, sure, but this was different.
He leaned toward the open hatch—and froze.
There were ninjas.
Black-clad. Very stabby. Aggressively acrobatic.
Honest-to-Thor ninjas.
And in the middle of them—
“Oh shit,” Tony breathed. “It’s the kid.”
Spider-kid vaulted off a fire escape, webbing three ninjas together midair like a decorative bow.
“On your left!” yelled a guy in yellow and black, diving straight into the mess.
“Got it!” Spider-kid chirped, already pivoting to help a green-and-yellow blur land a punch that cracked pavement.
Tony stood there.
Watched.
Processed.
Then got ignored.
Which was deeply offensive.
Because since when did people ignore him while actively dealing with ninjas?
“Ahem,” Tony said loudly.
No response.
A woman in a leather jacket flicked him a glance sharp enough to peel paint, then turned back to the fight.
The kid tilted his head briefly—registered Tony’s existence for approximately half a second—then snapped right back to webbing.
Tony sighed and summoned his armor, faceplate sliding into place.
Apparently he needed to be shinier to be acknowledged.
“Hi,” he said. “Hello. Billionaire genius here.”
Nothing.
“Okay. Wow. Rude,” Tony added, tapping his foot. “I flew all the way to Queens for this.”
Which was not a short trip, thank you very much.
Finally, yellow-and-black turned mid-punch, scowling. “What do you want?”
Tony smiled. Strainedly. “Tony Stark. Iron Man. You may have heard of me.”
His face was on literally every billboard—
“You mean the guy whose screw-ups attracted this?” green-and-yellow shot back, punting a ninja into a wall.
Tony’s jaw tightened.
That was unfair. Tony had nothing to do with ninjas.
And even if he did—which he didn’t—it was incredibly impolite to say so.
“…Anyway,” Tony said, because restraint was a thing, and he usually had some. “I’m here for Spider-kid.”
The kid blinked at him. “For me? Why—”
He paused, head tilting as a sound chimed from his suit. “Oh! One sec.”
He pulled a phone out of… somewhere.
Tony briefly wondered whether that tragic excuse for a suit had pockets.
Then the kid put the phone to his ear and continued ignoring him.
“Oh hey, Mr. Rogers!” Spider-kid said cheerfully.
Tony’s eye twitched.
Rogers.
Of course Rogers had beaten him to it.
“Does Rogers just hand out his number now?” Tony muttered. “Seriously—where did the patron saint of secrecy go?”
The kid nodded along, webbing a ninja without looking. “Uh-huh… no, it’s fine, we’re not too busy right now… y’know, ninjas.”
The woman sighed like this was a normal Tuesday. The others nodded in agreement.
Still ignoring Tony.
“…What agreements?” the kid asked, confused, flipping backward over a blade.
He paused. “Wait. What?”
Tony straightened.
That tone was new.
The kid’s voice rose, incredulous. “So enhanced people get locked up, experimented on, or lose their rights if they don’t sign?”
Oh.
Oh no.
“That’s not—” Tony started.
“It says we can only help people when the government tells us to,” the kid continued, baffled. “That’s not… that’s not helping, that’s—”
The fighting stopped.
Every single one of them looked at Tony.
Very hard.
Tony suddenly felt extremely outnumbered.
“…That’s,” the kid finished, voice smaller now, “that’s messed up.”
The woman’s knuckles cracked.
Green-and-yellow’s fists glowed. Yellow-and-black raised an eyebrow.
Somewhere behind Tony, a ninja whimpered.
Tony backed up.
Slowly.
He didn’t answer when FRIDAY asked why he was returning without the kid.
He just told her to get them the hell out of there.