Ms. Stark [Peter Parker]

Chapter 9| Legos

MARIA
3:43 pm; Wednesday- Avengers Facility

Five minutes have gone by since we started shooting, and all it consists of was me shooting the practice targets, and Peter webbing things.

I am aiming at one of the targets forcefully, with a squint in one eye. It was one of the smallest targets, but yet I had faith I could get perfectly in the middle of the small circle. Focused, I brought one index finger down on the trigger.

BANG

I brought the gun down to look at the target, and yes, I did get it right in the middle. I smiled to myself, pleased. I put the gun on the ground, deciding it would be best to take a break and pull up some hologram targets instead.

"Michelle, turn on hologram targets in the training room please," I say, startling Peter with his webbing. He looks back, confused who I was talking to until golden holograms of targets appear around us, stunning Peter once again.

"Neat, isn't it?" I ask while Peter looks around.

"Yeah...it really is-" but then it was like his senses kicked in because he turned and scans me.

"Surprised I talked to you?" I ask, with a mischievous smile appearing on my face. I grabbed my gun, getting ready to start shooting again.

He scratched the back of his neck, "Well, I mean you did literally threaten me earlier- Ms. Stark?" I wheezed at the name, finding it funny he called me Ms. Stark, instead of Maria.

As I continued to shoot the holograms, I said, "Ms. Stark? Maria is fine, you know." He nods, embarrassed as he continues to web up some of the holograms. Feeling bad for the boy, I thought I should start another conversation with him.

"So how long have you been the spider-thing?" I ask, not taking my eyes off the aim.

"Well... I'd say about twoish years? I was fifteen when I got bit so yeah," he said, now I was the surprised one. He talked a lot once you allow him to.

"What about you?" he asks, as I watch him web up a complete hologram, about the size of a refrigerator.

"Well, I have been my father's daughter I believe my whole life-"

"No, I mean how long have you been training?" he asks, cutting my sarcasm. I hate when people do that.

"I suppose as long as I can remember. I am nothing special unlike you, I am just good with weapons. I mean, my father literally sold weapons even before he became Ironman," I say, for once seriously.

Peter stops what he's webbing, and turns back to me fully for the first time since our conversation.

"You think I'm special?"

I blink rapidly, not sure what to say.

"Well-er I-"

"We're back."

I turn around to face the holy trinity, otherwise known as Steve, Clint, and Natasha.

"How long have you guys been standing there?" I ask, smiling at the three.

"Not long enough," Clint says with a smile back.