19: Chapter 19 Crisis Erupts

Things had barely settled down in Monaco after Whiplash was beaten into the ground by Tony Stark. During Monday morning study hall, their homeroom teacher, Mr. Duncan, announced that the whole class would be going on a field trip to the Stark Expo this Friday.

The classroom exploded into chaos.

"No way, for real?!"

"The Hammer Industries showcase! I saw the teaser—land, sea, and air models on display!"

Peter leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the desk. While everyone else was excited, only two words were running through his mind: It's over.

He knew exactly what was going to happen at that expo. Drone swarms, machine-gun fire, shattering ceiling glass—it looked cool in the movies, but being in the middle of it was a meat grinder.

For the rest of the week, he felt like he was wound up tighter than a spring.

The lights in the Baxter Building lab never went out. Reed carved out a corner for him, and Peter turned it into a makeshift armory. The first finished product was an EMP gun with enough pulse intensity to fry a drone's main control chip. The second was concrete Webbing, with a reformulated ratio that doubled its tensile strength.

He set Johnny Storm's number to emergency speed dial. Johnny hadn't understood everything Peter said, but he'd promised to be there on call.

On Friday morning, Peter wore a black muscle shirt and his bodysuit under his school uniform. His backpack's hidden compartment was stuffed with his Web-shooters and his folded suit. Before leaving, he stood in front of the mirror for two seconds; his backpack was bulging, looking like he was heading off to war.

In a sense, he really was going to war.

On the bus, Felicia sat down next to him. She stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly asked, "Nervous?"

Peter didn't deny it.

"Stark hasn't been acting right lately," he lowered his voice. "You didn't see his birthday party. Hammer Industries isn't exactly harmless either; they built that Rhino armor last time. If something goes wrong today—"

"Give it a rest, Parker!" Flash twisted around from the front seat, his voice loud enough for half the bus to hear. "If you have such a wild imagination, why aren't you writing novels? Hammer Industries makes drones, not murder machines."

Peter couldn't be bothered to argue. His hand touched the EMP gun in his backpack; the cold metal casing was reassuring. Sue Storm had initially had some complaints about him using the lab to build weapons, but after he explained his concerns, she didn't say anything more.

The expo was packed when they arrived. The guide held up a little flag, leading them through various exhibition areas until they finally entered the main auditorium, the site of the Hammer Industries product launch.

Their seats were in the back; the front rows were all VIPs. Peter scanned the room, his gaze landing on the curtains on both sides of the stage. He knew what was hidden behind them.

Justin Hammer took the stage. He rambled on for a full twenty minutes, spouting phrases like "era-defining," "redefining," and "changing the face of warfare." Then, with a grand wave of his hand, the curtains rose.

Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines—eight drones for each branch. The finale was the War Machine squad.

The crowd cheered. Flash stood up in excitement, and Harry applauded. Peter didn't move.

The next second, Iron Man dropped from the sky.

Tony landed on the stage and leaned over to whisper a few words to Rhodes. Then he ignited his thrusters and took off, the Air Force drones and the War Machine squad activating simultaneously to follow him out through the dome.

The ceiling glass shattered instantly.

The sound of breaking glass was like a thunderclap, and shards rained down like a storm. Screams erupted, and the crowd began to panic.

"Get down!"

Peter roared as he moved. He yanked Mary Jane and Felicia down, pressing his body over them to shield them with his back facing outward. Glass pelted his backpack; the padding cushioned the sharp edges, but the force of the impact still made him grunt in pain.

People around them were screaming and wailing.

Peter scrambled up and looked around. The drones were moving down along the platform. They weren't firing on civilians—not yet—but Tony's aerial battle could spill down to the floor at any moment.

"Is everyone okay?!" he shouted.

"I—I'm okay." Harry's voice trembled.

"Mr. Duncan is hurt!"

Peter turned his head. Mr. Duncan was lying on the ground with a piece of glass the size of a palm embedded in his back, blood soaking his shirt. Liz was kneeling beside him, cradling his head, tears streaming down her face.

"He took it for me!" Liz sobbed. "He protected me!"

Mary Jane covered her mouth. Several girls turned deathly pale.

Peter crouched down and took a quick look at the wound. The glass was embedded deep, but not in a vital spot—it couldn't be pulled out yet. He turned to Flash. "Carry him."

"What?" Flash was stunned.

"We need to get out of here. Those metal monsters are heading this way," Peter pointed toward the platform, where the mechanical legs of the drones clanked against the steel frame. "Carry him, now!"

"But I—"

"Flash, please!" Liz cried out.

Flash gritted his teeth and crouched down. The group carefully hoisted Mr. Duncan onto his back. Peter took the lead to clear the path, whispering instructions: "Don't run into the open. The drones aren't targeting us; if we avoid the combat zone, we'll be safe. Head toward the parking lot, move!"

The group rushed out of the auditorium.

Peter pulled out his phone and dialed Johnny's number. It connected after two rings.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I need you, now!"

"Buddy, it's not that I don't want to help, but I'm currently—"

"No time for small talk, Johnny!" Peter roared. "The Stark Expo drones have gone rogue, people are dying here! Light it up and fly over, as fast as you can! Bring the others if you can, but don't let that slow you down!"

"Copy that!" Johnny hung up.

Felicia ran beside him, panting as she asked, "Who are you calling?"

"Reinforcements."

Peter gripped his phone tight. He calculated quickly in his head: he could suit up as Spider-Man to fight, but no. Drones weren't street thugs; they had machine guns and missiles, and a direct confrontation wasn't worth it. More importantly, he couldn't reveal his identity now.

Just as they reached the stairwell, a drone crashed down from mid-air, its metal body slamming onto the ground in front of them, its mechanical arm twisted and sparking.

The girls screamed and scrambled backward.

Peter stared at the wreckage for a second. The mechanical arm had snapped at the joint, exposing the internal wiring, with the weapon interface cables clearly visible.

He rushed forward.

"Peter, what are you doing?!" Mary Jane's voice exploded from behind.

Peter clamped his hands onto the broken joint of the mechanical arm and pushed with his core. There was a screeching sound of tearing steel, and he ripped the entire arm off the chassis. Wires sparked with blue light at the break; he flipped the arm over and found the firing system's cable interface.

His index and middle fingers precisely shorted two of the wires.

The machine-gun module activated.

Another drone landed nearby, turning its barrel toward the crowd. Peter hoisted the severed arm, aimed the muzzle at its head, and pressed down—there was no trigger, so he simply shorted the firing circuit.

Bullets poured out in a torrent.

Steel against steel, sparks flying like fireworks. The drone was riddled with holes, smoking all over, its head lolling to the side before it collapsed with a crash.

The barrel was scorching hot; Peter dropped the ruined mechanical arm to the ground and turned around, gasping for air.

Behind him, his classmates stood dumbfounded.

"Let's go," he said.

No one objected.

After rushing out of the building, more drones swarmed out of the auditorium. They fired missiles at Tony in the air; most missed, trailing smoke as they plummeted toward the streets. People were fleeing, with screams and explosions echoing one after another.

"Stay to the sides! Don't look up!" Peter yelled.

Another squad of drones appeared ahead, forming an interception line, the whirring of their rotating barrels piercing and harsh. Peter reached into his backpack and gripped his Web-shooters.

A streak of orange-red flame descended from the sky.

The drone swarm was instantly engulfed in flames. Johnny, transformed into the Human Torch, streaked through the fire, his burning body carving an arc through the air. Wherever he passed, the steel melted, dripping molten metal onto the ground.

"Hey, Peter! Sorry I'm late!" Johnny shouted, hovering in mid-air.

Peter grinned. "You're not late—melt all these tin cans for me!"

"You got it!" Johnny laughed maniacally, high-temperature flames exploding from his body. Two more drones lost power in the inferno, crashing to the ground and twisting into scrap metal.

Peter asked, "Where's Sue and the others?"

"They're behind. I'm the only one who can fly, and Ben couldn't fit in the car, so they're taking it slow," Johnny looked toward the distant explosions. "These guys are trying to hit Stark but keep missing—the missiles are all hitting the civilian areas. Should I go intercept them?"

"Give it a try. Don't push yourself."

"Don't worry, setting off fireworks is my specialty!" Johnny kicked off his flames and flew away.

Peter turned around, once again meeting the stunned gazes of his classmates.

"What?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Buddy!" Flash's voice was shaking. "That's Johnny Storm!"

"So?"

"You know Johnny Storm?!"

"Colleague. A work friend," Peter urged. "Do you want to keep talking, or do you want to get Mr. Duncan to the hospital?"

Flash swallowed hard and shut his mouth.

They skirted around the still-steaming molten metal and ran toward the parking lot. Felicia asked while running, "You have a job with the Fantastic Four?"

"I do work for them, but I'm not an official member."

"So that's the job you were always being all mysterious about?" Felicia realized. "No wonder you wouldn't talk about it."

"Now you know."

When they rushed onto the bus, Mr. Duncan was settled in the back with Liz guarding him. Peter urged the driver to start the engine. Just as the bus hit the gas, a drone dropped from the sky and slammed down right in front of the bus.

Screams erupted inside the bus.

"Don't stop!" Peter rushed to the driver's seat, stepped on the driver's foot, and slammed the accelerator to the floor. The bus roared as it rammed into the drone, the bumper pinning it to the ground as it dragged it along. The drone's machine guns began firing, bullets clattering against the front of the bus, and the windshield shattered into a spiderweb pattern.

"Keep it floored!"

Peter pulled the door open and jumped out. He hit the ground and rolled to dissipate the momentum, swung his backpack to his front, and pulled out the EMP gun.

The drone had grabbed the bus's bumper and gave a violent heave. The bus slid sideways, coming to a stop across the road.

Peter ran behind it and aimed the muzzle at the core module on the back of its head.

"Hey, tin man."

The drone turned its head.

"Die."

He pulled the trigger. The electromagnetic pulse was invisible to the naked eye, but the effect was immediate. The drone began to twitch, its mechanical arms convulsing, thick smoke billowing from its joints before it went limp like a marionette with its strings cut.

Peter panted, put away the EMP gun, and spat on the ground. "Piece of junk."

Back on the bus, everyone was staring at him again.

"Is everyone okay?" he asked.

"I... I'm okay." Harry's voice was as thin as a mosquito's.

Peter said to the driver, "Driver, get us out of this hellhole."

"No problem, boss."

As the bus drove away from the expo area, a loud explosion erupted behind them. The drone disabled by the EMP exploded into a massive fireball. Thick smoke and flames billowed into the sky, the entire Stark Expo area looking like hell on earth.

Peter leaned back in his seat and suddenly chuckled. "Well, I'm never going on a field trip again."

Nobody laughed. Everyone looked at him as if they had seen a ghost.

"What?" he asked. "Bad timing for a joke?"

Felicia stood up.

"You suicidal idiot."

She threw herself at him.

Peter instinctively caught her waist, and the next second, Felicia's lips pressed against his. Her hands tangled into his hair, and she locked her legs around his waist.