One hour later…
The deep, unmistakable roar of the Mustang Boss echoed through the main entrance of Empire State University, slicing through the campus chatter like a vibrating blade. The moment Arthur parked the car, several students walking across the grounds immediately turned their heads, drawn both by the magnetic growl of the engine and the spotless shine of the car's bodywork.
Inside, Gwen practically vibrated with excitement in the passenger seat—cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, a bright smile stretching across her face. She loved when Arthur drove like that: fast, precise, with a level of control that bordered on irresponsible… but which, for her, translated only into adrenaline and a tiny spark of pride.
"Okay, I'm heading to class now. See you two tonight," Gwen said, grabbing her backpack and pulling the door open.
"See you later, Gwen," Arthur replied with a relaxed smile.
"Bye bye, Gwen!" Saeko waved enthusiastically from the back seat.
The surrounding students, inevitably curious, widened their eyes the moment they realized who had stepped out of the car. Gwen Stacy—the gentle, studious, always well-behaved Gwen—was getting out of that car as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
And, of course, that led to the inevitable question:
Who the hell was the driver?
Gwen, entirely unaffected by the social frenzy forming around her, slipped on her headphones as if activating an anti-gossip shield. With light steps and a discreet smile, she walked into the campus as though nothing unusual had happened—which, for her, was genuinely the case.
---xXx---
"So, sweetie…" Arthur turned to Saeko as soon as Gwen disappeared behind the buildings. "How about we take a little tour around the city?"
"YES!!" Saeko practically exploded with excitement, bouncing on the seat like a kid heading to an amusement park.
"Hahahahaha!" Arthur laughed heartily and started up the engine again.
---xXx---
Gwen was only a few meters inside the campus when she felt a light tap on her shoulder.
"Good morning, Gwen."
"Good morning, Peter." Peter replied—slightly more rushed and out of breath than usual, as if he'd sprinted just to catch up to her.
There was curiosity in his eyes when he asked, trying to sound casual:
"Who was the person who dropped you off?"
Gwen answered without hesitation, direct as always:
"My boyfriend."
Peter froze for less than a second.
But that one second was enough for his eyes to darken behind an expression far too neutral to be sincere.
Not that Gwen noticed—she was already adjusting her headphones and smoothing her hair.
"See you later, Peter! If I stay one more minute here, I'll end up late."
She hurried off, steps light as usual—while Peter remained still, watching her figure disappear down the tree-lined walkway.
He raised a hand in a silent, empty, almost automatic wave.
Then murmured, a determined gleam forming in his eyes:
"As long as I can finish that serum with Dr. Connors…"
Peter turned and headed toward the lab. His pace gradually quickened, driven by both worry and growing obsession.
But as he approached the lab door… he abruptly stopped.
His expression paled.
A black, luxurious, intimidating car was parked right at the entrance.
And workers—clearly professionals—were carrying out boxes, folders, and equipment.
Lab equipment.
The logo stamped on the car made Peter's heart plummet:
Oscorp Industries.
Oscorp—the company funding both his and Dr. Connors' research.
A bad feeling settled in his chest, heavy and urgent.
"This can't be…"
He immediately broke into a run, ignoring the stares, ignoring everything.
Something was very, very wrong.
---xXx---
Stark Industries
Pepper Potts held an impeccably organized résumé, and across from her sat a red-haired woman with perfect posture, tidy clothing, and a professionally trained gaze.
"Miss Rushman," Pepper said, flipping through the pages. "Your résumé is… simply flawless. I'm sure you'll do an excellent job as a secretary."
"Thank you, Ms. Potts."
The redhead smiled with delicate precision.
"Natalie Rushman" seemed tailor-made for any employer who might want her.
"So, when can you start?" Pepper asked.
"I can start today, if that's convenient," Natalie replied with the same perfect smile.
"Great." Pepper pressed a button on the phone on her desk. "Happy, come here."
A few seconds later, the door opened.
Happy Hogan walked in with his usual stiff posture, ready to greet Pepper—until he saw Natalie. He swallowed hard before flashing a goofy grin.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Harold Hogan, Tony Stark's driver and bodyguard," he said, puffing out his chest.
Natalie, of course, already knew everything about him. She knew everything about everyone there.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harold," she replied flawlessly.
Pepper stepped in before Happy could stretch the conversation any further:
"Happy, this is my new assistant. Take her for the admission procedures."
"No problem! Right this way, miss…?"
"Natalie," she completed.
"Right this way, Natalie," Happy repeated, smiling widely.
He took the résumé from Pepper's hand and guided her out of the office.
---xXx---
As they walked down the hallway, Natalie—more accurately, Natasha Romanoff—kept the most innocent and professional expression she could muster.
Until genuine curiosity slipped through her voice:
"Why didn't I see Mr. Stark today?"
"Tony?" Happy sighed. "He told me not to pick him up. Said he was meeting a friend."
Natasha paused for a brief moment.
A friend?
She scanned her memory with surgical precision. Everything she knew about Tony Stark. His relationships, his contacts, his social circle… which basically consisted of Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, and a handful of people he tolerated.
Tony Stark.
Meeting a mysterious friend.
And without security?
Something didn't add up.
---xXx---
After a long tour of New York with Saeko—a tour that included everything from random shops full of trinkets to a stop to see who could eat more ice cream without getting brain freeze—Arthur finally returned home. The sun was beginning to set, tinting the sky with shades of orange, and the cool afternoon breeze felt perfect to close the day.
The moment they stepped inside, Saeko jumped straight onto the couch, pulled out her Babylon Gate wrist device, and began fiddling with it.
(A/N: I don't remember if I mentioned this before, but yes—Saeko has access to the Gate of Babylon.)
Arthur, meanwhile, went to his backyard to train. He spent almost an hour alternating between weight exercises, breathing techniques, and a series of sword swings.
When he finished, he showered and sank into his favorite armchair, letting out a long, dramatic yawn.
"Ahhh~" he murmured, standing up lazily as he cracked his neck. "Time to get a little work done."
Without rushing, he walked to his workshop. The automatic door opened with a soft hiss, and Arthur stepped inside expecting everything to be exactly as he'd left it.
It wasn't.
The first thing he noticed was the glow of the monitor still on, casting a bluish light across the dim room. Lines of code raced down the screen at an absurd speed, as if someone had hit fast-forward on reality itself.
He frowned.
"…I didn't leave anything running."
He walked closer. The code kept forming, reorganizing, compiling, expanding. It was like watching a digital brain wake up for the first time.
Then suddenly, the screen flickered.
A holographic blue woman appeared on the monitor—elegant, not aggressive, clear yet mysterious. Her eyes glowed as they locked onto Arthur.
[Arthur…]
The voice resonated softly, with a synthetic calm that bordered on human.
Arthur raised an eyebrow, taking a seat in his swivel chair.
I see… She was the AI inside that sphere… he thought.
"Answer me this…" He leaned an arm on the chair. "What's your name?"
The woman blinked, as if processing the question for a fraction of a second.
[My name is Cortana. I was designed to be of complete assistance to you.]
"Well, well…" Arthur smirked, clearly satisfied. "Alright then, Cortana. You have access to my entire database, correct?"
[Yes.]
"Perfect. Then do the following: comb through everything. Every file, every line of code, every system. Look for any vulnerability that might exist and fix it immediately. I don't want my stuff leaking out there if some smartass tries to hack my system." He was already grabbing tools and moving to his workbench. "Meanwhile, I'll work on my own project."
[Understood.] Cortana replied, her image sharpening as she started processing commands at absurd speeds.
The lines of code resumed their movement, but now with clear purpose—Cortana scanning every corner of the vast database Arthur had accumulated over the years.
Arthur, for his part, was already fully focused on his Tempad.
(End of chapter)