Part 1
3:02 A.M. – Stark Tower Penthouse
"I'M BACK, OLD MAN!"
The shout tore through the quiet penthouse like a declaration of war.
Tony Stark didn't walk.
He moved.
"Kid"
Harley Kenner barely had time to grin before Tony collided into him, pulling him into a hug that was half impact, half relief.
"Nice to see you too," Harley wheezed. "You been working out or just fighting governments for cardio?"
Tony pulled back, hands still on his shoulders, scanning him like he was checking for damage.
"You grew."
"It happens with time," Harley shot back.
Tony huffed a laugh.
And for the first time in what felt like weeks.
He relaxed.
The universe felt that
And took it as a challenge.
A door down the hall slammed open.
"WHO WAS THAT!"
Peter's voice cut off mid-yell as he skidded into the room.
Then he saw Harley.
Pause.
Blink.
"Oh."
Ned appeared behind him, squinting. "Is that—wait—is that the Tennessee guy Mr. Stark talks about?"
"I have a name," Harley said.
"Harley!" Peter corrected instantly, fully awake now. "You're actually here!"
Ned lit up. "Dude, you made a functional potato cannon"
"It was a prototype," Harley defended.
A door slid open.
Shuri stepped out like she'd been awake for hours and simply chose not to participate until now.
She took one look at Harley.
Then at Tony.
Then back at Harley.
"…Again?"
Tony didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
She smiled slowly.
"Oh, this is going to be fun."
Peter felt it first.
That shift in the air.
The moment when multiple genius-level brains aligned in the worst possible way.
"Okay," Peter said cautiously, remembering the last time he felt this, "We shouldn't..."
"We should," Ned interrupted.
Harley grinned.
"We absolutely should."
Shuri clasped her hands behind her back.
"Show us what you've got."
Peter closed his eyes.
"Yeah… we're all going to be in trouble."
The Lab
Harley's new lab was reinforced.
Specifically designed to withstand:
High-energy output Contained explosions Experimental weapons testing
It was, by all reasonable standards.
Explosion-proof.
Which meant nothing.
"Okay," Harley said, adjusting the casing. "The original energy dispersion ratio Peter calculated is capped at four."
Ned squinted at the schematics.
"…That says nine."
"It's a four," Harley snapped.
Shuri leaned in. "That is a nine."
Peter, holding the stabilizer unit, froze.
"…Guys."
No one listened.
"Run it," Ned said.
"Run it," Harley agreed.
Shuri stepped back, intrigued. "Yes. Run it."
Peter whispered, "Oh no. We are definitely going to die."
He pressed the activation.
For exactly 0.7 seconds—
It worked.
Perfectly.
Beautifully.
Then the energy output spiked.
Hard.
"Oh shit," Peter said.
The weapon discharged.
The blast didn't explode outward.
It punched.
A focused, violent burst of energy slammed into the far wall.
Spiderweb fractures spread instantly across reinforced plating.
Then.
BOOM.
The wall gave.
A clean, circular hole tore through it like reality had briefly lost interest in staying intact.
Silence followed.
Dust drifted lazily through the air.
Four teenagers stood frozen.
Peter blinked.
"…That was meant to be a four."
Harley pointed at the schematics. "YOUR HANDWRITING LOOKS LIKE A CRIME."
Shuri tilted her head, impressed. "Structurally inefficient. But aesthetically satisfying."
Ned slowly turned to Peter. "Peter… my brother, my friend… can we go one week without blowing something up?"
Peter lowered the stabilizer.
"I am not a fire bug," he said weakly. "Fire just… happens around me sometimes. And I warned you guys, but none of you listened."
Behind them, the lab alarms finally decided to wake up.
Tony
Tony didn't hear the explosion.
He felt it.
The kind of low, concussive whump that vibrated through the Tower like it had opinions.
He froze mid-sip signature.
"…No."
Friday paused.
Then, gently.
"I regret to inform you, Boss, that the children have discovered Harley's new reinforced lab."
Tony inhaled slowly.
"…Status."
"Structural integrity compromised. Wall integrity currently at what I would describe as 'spiderweb aesthetic.' One large aperture now exists where there was previously not one. Minor flames present."
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose.
"…Casualties?"
"No injuries."
A beat.
"They were attempting to construct an energy weapon."
Tony lowered his hand.
Of course they were.
The Scene of the Crime
Tony stepped into the lab.
And stopped.
The wall was gone.
Not metaphorically.
Physically.
Gone.
In its place.
Cracks radiating outward like a spider had taken architectural revenge, and a hole large enough to qualify as an exit strategy.
Three boys stood in a loose cluster.
Covered in soot.
Guilty.
Shuri stood slightly apart.
Also covered in soot.
Not guilty.
Just curious.
Tony looked at them.
They looked at him.
"…Explain."
Harley pointed at Ned."He read the numbers wrong."
Ned pointed at Shuri."She agreed with me."
Shuri raised a finger."In their defense, the energy curve was almost correct."
Peter pointed at everyone."I said we were going to die."
Tony closed his eyes.
Looked up.
And for the first time in a long time.
Prayed.
"God," he muttered, "I don't ask for much. But if you're up there, I need patience. Or a sedative. Either works."
He opened his eyes again.
"…Upstairs. Now."
The March of Shame
They walked upstairs.
Slowly.
Collectively.
Like condemned scientists heading toward judgment.
Tony didn't yell.
That was worse.
He was saving it.
Round four of the lectures was loading.
Fully charged.
Ready to deploy.
"No weapons," Tony began, voice calm and terrifying, "Without adult supervision."
"We had Friday..." Ned started.
"Friday does not count," Tony cut in instantly. "Friday is not a responsible adult when you're actively trying to vaporize yourselves."
They reached the kitchen.
And stopped.
Stephen Strange
Stephen stood at the counter.
Calm.
Barefoot.
Cooking.
Sunlight just beginning to touch the glass behind him.
Plates already set.
Coffee poured.
Peace.
Actual, tangible peace.
Tony stared at the scene.
Then at the four gremlins behind him.
Then back at Stephen.
And something…
Clicked.
A terrible.
Brilliant.
Absolutely evil idea.
Peter saw it happen.
The exact moment.
That look.
That glee.
"Mr. Stark," Peter whispered, "don't."
Tony turned.
Smiled.
"Oh, I'm not doing anything," he said pleasantly.
Then.
"You four," he said, pointing casually, "are spending the weekend with the good doctor."
Silence.
"Be good," Tony added, already moving.
"OH, and Ned, your mom wants you back Sunday for dinner with Grandma Lola. After that, you're going back to Greenwich with Dr. Strange."
Stephen turned.
"…Anthony!"
"See you boys Tuesday!"
Tony grabbed four pancakes with his hands—no plate, no dignity—and walked straight out of the room.
Gone.
Vanished.
Emotionally unavailable.
Aftermath
The kitchen was silent.
Four teenagers.
One sorcerer.
One very fresh disaster.
Stephen looked at them.
Ned cracked first.
"…So," he said weakly, "fun story..."
Harley pointed immediately. "He wrote the four like a nine."
"I did not..."
"You did...."
Shuri raised a hand. "The explosion was statistically inevitable."
Peter buried his face in his hands.
"I swear I wasn't trying to blow up the lab."
Stephen didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Just… watched.
Calm.
Measuring.
Listening.
Peter peeked through his fingers.
"…We're in trouble, aren't we?"
Stephen finally stepped forward.
Slowly.
"Explain."
Soft.
Precise.
Terrifyingly calm.
And for the first time since the explosion.
They all wished Tony had stayed.