The silver Audi R8 drove smoothly on the highway to New York. Tony had already shed his armor and changed into an expensive custom-made suit. He held the steering wheel with one hand, the other resting casually on the car window, his brow slightly furrowed.
"Seriously, Peter, I suggest you stay away from mutant affairs," Tony said, his tone much more serious than usual.
"The mutant issue is a political minefield, more troublesome than any street villain you've dealt with in the past. You have a great future ahead of you; there's no need to get caught up in their struggles."
Peter looked out the window as rows of trees flashed by. "If we avoid people who need help just because it's troublesome, then what kind of heroes are we?" he asked softly in return.
Tony sighed. "This is idealism, I used to think that way too. But the reality is, the mutant issue involves too many stances and interests. Professor X wants peaceful coexistence, Magneto wants mutant supremacy, and human governments want to control all super-powered individuals... This isn't a black and white story, Peter."
"I know," Peter turned to look at Tony, "but those children don't have a choice. Just like I didn't have a choice about whether or not to be bitten by a spider."
"Also, Mr. Stark," Peter's voice cut through the low roar of the engine and the howling wind noise, carrying the easygoingness of Spiderman, "are mutants really as bad as you say? I hear the X-Men have a pretty good reputation in New York City."
"Seriously, before the Avengers made that name famous, they saved the world from the brink several times. This time... didn't we successfully ask them for help?"
Peter was well aware of the mutants' plight, but he just wanted to hear Tony's perspective. He needed to know how this core member of the Avengers viewed mutants.
"Heh." Tony's scoff was short and crisp, almost torn apart by the wind. He tapped his finger on the steering wheel, and the car window silently rose, instantly silencing the outside world, leaving only the low hum of the car's air conditioning and the suppressed roar of the engine.
"Kid, you're too young; some things aren't as simple as they appear," Tony's voice became clear, tinged with the cynicism of someone who had experienced too much.
"The X-Men saving the World? Yes, they've done that. But have you ever considered that nine out of ten times, the trouble that nearly destroyed the World was caused by out-of-control mutants in the first place? According to Nick Fury, that old bald head, mutants are a powder keg under humanity's ass. Wherever they appear, bad things are bound to happen."
"Uh..." Peter glanced at Tony, whose expression was unclear behind his top-tier sunglasses, but the sense of déjà vu in his words made him mumble.
"Mr. Stark, these words... why do I feel like I've read them in the Daily Bugle? They seem to use this kind of language to describe that one person in the Fantastic Four who... um... always blows something up."
"I know who you're talking about. The difference is that when Reed Richards messes up an experiment, he might flatten a building at most, but an out-of-control Level Four mutant..." Tony paused, drawing a circle in the air with his finger.
"...might make an entire continental plate sleep in a different position. These are not even in the same league."
He then pressed the car's audio button, and a powerful pop-rock song instantly filled the car. Then, as if to dispel some unpleasantness, he precisely pulled out a beautifully packaged box of candy from the dashboard's hidden compartment, offered one to Peter, and chewed one himself.
"However, frankly, I personally don't have any deep-seated prejudice against mutants." Tony nodded gently to the beat of the music. "Ability isn't the original sin; losing control is. Of course—"
His tone suddenly shifted, carrying obvious displeasure.
"—except for that guy who wears a metal suit, a ridiculous helmet, and practically writes 'I'm the coolest' on his face every time he appears."
Peter knew who Tony was talking about: Magneto. It seemed there had been some conflict between the two, but he couldn't quite recall the details.
The Audi R8 suddenly drifted on a sharp bend, its tires emitting a brief, sharp screech as they rubbed against the ground, immediately drowned out by the more intense roar of the accelerator. The car shot into the straight road like a silver lightning bolt, pulling the scenery on both sides into blurred streaks of color.
"I told you to stay away from mutants, kid, not just because of their unstable powers that can explode at any moment."
Tony's voice deepened, and the music seemed to politely lower itself automatically. "It's more because of the way society looks at them. After what happened, do you still think the U.S. government, or even the whole world, is truly as close to the X-Men as they appear?"
"Are there not enough online comments saying mutants aren't human? In the last century, and the century before that, discrimination against skin color and race still lingers today. How much more so for mutants, who are directly labeled as 'non-human'? This prejudice is deeply ingrained, more stubborn than any virus."
At this point, Tony uncharacteristically scratched his head, revealing a hint of genuine confusion: "But there's one thing I've never figured out."
"Charles Xavier, that bald professor who advocated for peaceful coexistence and whose heart was kinder than anyone's, why was he the first to jump out and label his own kind as 'mutants' back then? Did he not foresee that this name itself would become the beginning of an unending nightmare?"
He didn't speak, just silently pressed the window-close button, completely shutting out the howling wind and silencing the world.
The car instantly fell into a near-vacuum stillness, with only the music flowing from the high-end audio system and the steady breathing of the engine.
"Mr. Stark," Peter suddenly spoke, his tone half-joking, half-probing, "have you ever considered a possibility... perhaps all humans in the World, in some corner of their genes, have dormant mutant genes? Perhaps, you, I, all of us... in some sense, are mutants?"
"Come on!" Tony waved his hand abruptly, almost hitting the steering wheel. "That idea is as crazy as Bruce Banner saying he never loses his temper! If that were true, wouldn't the Mutant Registration Act, which those old gentlemen in Washington argued endlessly to create, become the biggest joke of the century?"
As he spoke, the corner of his eye sharply caught the solemnity on Peter's face.
"Hey!" Tony's tone softened, with an elder's concern. "Listen, stop racking your brain over mutant stuff. Professor Xavier has pretty much cleaned up your mess already."
"Hmm... as for the final cleanup, you can leave that to Fury, that cunning bald head. You're about to officially become a member of the Avengers. He can't possibly fail to handle such a small matter, can he?"
"Maybe," Peter replied ambiguously. He knew in his heart that the "cunning bald head" Tony spoke of was deeply mired in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s (or rather, "Hydra S.H.I.E.L.D.'s") own troubles, with a mountain of problems and barely able to protect himself. Asking him for help, Peter wasn't sure if it would be helpful or counterproductive.
"Huh? What's this..." Peter suddenly felt something poking him in the seat crevice.
He turned sideways and, with difficulty, hooked an item out of the narrow space with his finger—it was clearly a lady's mask... no, this lace edge... Tony's eye twitched sharply. With lightning speed, almost snatching it, he grabbed the black lace underwear, a veritable "evidence of a wild night," from Peter's hand.
He pressed the car window down in a flash and threw it out without hesitation. The small black item was instantly swept away by the strong wind, vanishing without a trace.
"Damn it, how is this still in my car?" Tony cursed under his breath, trying to cover his embarrassment.
"Sir." A calm, elegant British electronic voice chimed in perfectly, breaking the delicate moment.
"Ms. Pepper Potts specifically instructed that no female personal items are to appear in any of your vehicles. If she were to find out, her anger index is projected to reach 'destructive.' Would you like me to connect you to Ms. Potts now?"
"Oh—no! No need! Jarvis, your sense of humor at this moment is truly... ill-timed."
Tony made an exaggerated, almost suffocating expression at the air.
He turned his head, meeting Peter's eyes, which were trying hard to suppress laughter and were full of "I understand." A rare blush spread across Tony's face. He cleared his throat twice, looked straight ahead, and extended a hand to try and explain.
"Peter, look, you're eighteen now. You're a grown man. Men should understand each other... I mean, just in case, just in case, if Pepper asks later..."
"I understand, Mr. Stark," Peter immediately nodded before he could finish, his face carefully composed with seriousness and sincerity. "Completely understood. I didn't see anything."
"Excellent, buddy!" Tony, relieved, slapped Peter heavily on the shoulder, his iconic, caramel-colored eyes with dark circles full of the satisfaction of "an Excellent Student."
"I owe you an apology. I used to always say you were childish, like a kid who wouldn't grow up, but I was wrong! I should have realized it earlier. Girls change at eighteen... no, boys change at eighteen! You can... um... handle two such excellent female friends at the same time. There's a reason for it, after all. I underestimated you!"
Peter's expression subtly changed, and he quickly retorted, "Sir, I only have one girlfriend, Mary Jane Watson. You should know her, a super awesome model. Please don't spread rumors."
"Is that so?" Tony withdrew his hand, yawned exaggeratedly, his eyebrows raised high, and the teasing in his tone almost overflowing.
"Then, that other woman who likes to appear late at night, wearing a tight suit, and moves unbelievably agilely... is that Mary Jane Watson? But from what I understand, that doesn't seem to be the case."
He deliberately lowered the music in the car even further, creating a compelling silence. His fingers tapped intermittently on the steering wheel, the soft tap, tap, tap seeming to directly match the rhythm of Peter's suddenly accelerated heartbeat.
"Jarvis, what was her name again?" Tony feigned contemplation. "Oh, I remember now. Cindy Moon, an eighteen-year-old Asian girl. Her codename seems to be... Silk?"
Peter sighed, knowing he couldn't hide it from this omniscient tech mogul: "Alright, since you already know... her name is indeed Silk, Cindy Moon."
"But you're mistaken, Mr. Stark. She's not my girlfriend; she's just... a partner I met while fighting crime. Yes, a partner, a friend."
"Friend? Alright, partner." Tony drew out his words, clearly unconvinced, then dropped another bombshell.
"Then I'm very curious, what kind of 'friend' frequently sneaks into your bedroom window at one or two in the morning, and then doesn't leave until dawn? And this 'friend' also happens to be a teenage girl in the prime of her youth?"
"Mr. Stark, you... you're monitoring me?!" Peter's voice suddenly rose a notch.
"Sorry, kid," Tony said confidently. "But this was your Aunt May's solemn request. She asked me to take good care of you. Let's not discuss the monitoring issue for now... Just tell me, was what I just said true?"
Peter was immediately speechless, opening his mouth but finding himself unable to say anything.
If he insisted that he and Silk were only frineds, he would probably find the excuse laughably hollow himself.
But it was indeed the truth. Attached with some uncontrollable circumstances.
"Relax, kid," Tony said, laughing at his embarrassed expression. "I'll keep your secret. A secret between men."
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