Chapter 21: The New Normal
The alarm pierced the dawn at exactly 6 AM, not for school like any normal ten-year-old, but for what Tony had dubbed "Hero Boot Camp." Ben's eyes snapped open, his Spider-Sense already humming with low-level awareness of the house awakening around him. Three months post-Iron Monger. Three months since his world had shifted from survival to structure.
"This is what normal feels like now."
His new life had rhythm: morning physical training, afternoon tutoring, evening workshop time, and twice-weekly SHIELD sessions. It was exhausting and perfect, each day building toward something he couldn't name but felt in his bones.
Ben rolled out of his rebuilt bedroom—reinforced walls now, bulletproof glass, and a workshop annex that made his orphan self weep with joy. The mansion hummed with Arc Reactor power, every surface upgraded since Obadiah's rampage. Security that could stop armies, but it still felt like home.
Downstairs, Tony was already suited up for his morning run, downing espresso like it was medicine.
"Ready for Hill today, kid?"
Ben nodded, checking his gear bag. Custom training clothes from Happy, web-shooters (now Level 18 and climbing), and the growing confidence that came from knowing he belonged here.
"Remember," Tony's voice carried that edge it got when discussing SHIELD, "you don't have to prove anything to them. You're already proved."
"If only you knew what I'm really preparing for."
The converted warehouse looked innocent from the outside—another industrial building in the maze of Los Angeles manufacturing. But inside, SHIELD had built a training facility that could accommodate enhanced individuals. Mats, obstacle courses, and observation booths with bulletproof glass.
Agent Maria Hill was waiting, her brunette hair pulled back in a regulation bun, dressed in tactical gear that looked lived-in rather than pristine. Behind the observation glass, Tony settled into a chair, arms crossed, ready to intervene if SHIELD pushed too hard.
"Mr. Parker-Stark," Hill's voice cut through the warehouse space like a blade. "I've reviewed footage of your Iron Monger engagement."
She circled him like a predator evaluating prey, professional assessment in every step.
"You have excellent instincts but terrible form. We're going to fix that."
What followed was the most thorough diagnostic Ben had experienced. Hill had him throw punches, kicks, demonstrate his web-slinging, show his parkour skills. Every movement was catalogued, analyzed, and found wanting.
"You're a natural survivor," Hill concluded after thirty minutes of evaluation. "Now we make you a fighter."
The first lesson was humbling. Ben's Enhanced Reflexes let him dodge everything Hill threw at him, his Spider-Sense warned him of strikes before they landed, but his counterattacks were wild, uncontrolled, wasted energy.
"Stop relying on your abilities as crutches," Hill snapped after Ben dodged a combination and responded with a haymaker that would have embarrassed a street brawler. "Trust your senses AND your training. Your gifts should enhance technique, not replace it."
She repositioned his stance, corrected his weight distribution, showed him how to move efficiently. When she came at him again, Ben tried to blend his supernatural awareness with actual skill.
The improvement was immediate. His Spider-Sense warned him of Hill's left hook, but instead of just ducking, he slipped inside and countered with a controlled jab that actually made Hill step back.
"Better," she admitted. "Again."
For two hours, Ben learned to fight properly. Not the desperate scrambling that had gotten him through Iron Monger, but the controlled application of force that separated soldiers from survivors.
By the end, his Spider-Sense wasn't screaming warnings—it was whispering advice, integrating with his training rather than overriding it.
[SHIELD TRAINING SESSION COMPLETED: 1/50]
[SPIDER-SENSE LEVELED: LV. 3 → LV. 5]
[COMBAT TRAINING UNLOCKED: BASIC TECHNIQUES (C-RANK, LV. 1)]
[SPIDER COORDINATION RESONANCE STRENGTHENED: +12% BONUS]
Back at the mansion, Pepper was waiting with Mrs. Chen, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a briefcase full of fourth-grade curriculum.
"And now for the hardest part of my day."
"Hello, Ben," Mrs. Chen smiled warmly. "I'm excited to work with you. Your mother tells me you're very bright."
"If only you knew."
Ben settled at the dining room table, trying to shrink his adult mind down to ten-year-old size. The homework was painfully simple—basic arithmetic that he could solve in his head, reading comprehension for books he'd read in middle school the first time around.
"If Tommy has 3 apples and buys 2 more, how many does he have?"
Ben's brain, fresh from calculating arc reactor energy outputs and SHIELD combat probabilities, nearly short-circuited at the simplicity. He forced himself to count on his fingers, to show his work, to seem appropriately challenged.
But when Mrs. Chen asked for a book report on "Charlotte's Web," his adult mind took over. He wrote three pages analyzing the themes of mortality, friendship, and sacrifice, comparing Wilbur's fear of death to existential philosophy and Charlotte's web-weaving to the creation of art as immortality.
Mrs. Chen stared at the essay, then at Ben, then back at the essay.
"This is... quite sophisticated for a ten-year-old."
From the kitchen, Pepper's voice carried gentle amusement. "He's special."
After Mrs. Chen left—confused but intrigued—JARVIS materialized through the house speakers.
"Master Ben, Mrs. Chen's evaluation has been added to your educational profile. She notes 'inconsistent knowledge retention suggesting either selective amnesia or advanced tutoring not disclosed by family.'"
"Great. Another mystery for them to catalog."
"She also recommends psychological evaluation to assess for giftedness or... other conditions."
Pepper appeared in the doorway, tablet in hand. "We'll handle it. Some children develop unevenly. Trauma can cause that."
She wasn't wrong, but the trauma she was thinking of wasn't what had shaped Ben's intellect.
That evening, as sunset painted the mansion's windows gold, Ben's tablet chimed with an incoming video call. Kate's face filled the screen, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Ben! Ben, guess what!"
"You won something?"
"I won the junior archery competition! Perfect bullseyes in the final round!"
Kate held up a small trophy, her smile threatening to split her face in half.
"I did what you taught me—I imagined you were watching and just... let go. I didn't think about technique or form or anything, just felt it."
Ben's heart swelled with genuine pride. He was watching a hero's origin story unfold in real-time, shaping it with every conversation.
"That's amazing, Kate. I knew you could do it."
"Okay, your turn," Kate leaned closer to the camera. "Show me something cool you learned!"
Ben glanced around his room, then activated his web-shooters. A controlled line shot across the space, and he demonstrated a smooth swing between his desk and bookshelf.
Kate's eyes went huge. "THAT'S AMAZING! Can you teach me? Please, please, please?"
"These need special equipment and... uh... grown-up supervision."
Kate pouted but accepted it. Before ending the call, her expression grew serious.
"Mom's been talking about sending me to some special school for 'gifted kids.' Says I need to be around people like me."
She fidgeted with the trophy's base.
"Do you think I'm weird, Ben?"
The question hit Ben harder than any of Hill's training strikes. Here was Kate Bishop—future Hawkeye, future Avenger—struggling with the same isolation that drove so many young heroes to dangerous choices.
"Kate, you're not weird. You're exceptional. Don't let anyone make you feel bad about being good at things."
Her smile returned, brighter than before.
"Thanks. You always know what to say."
[RELATIONSHIP DEEPENED: KATE BISHOP]
[FUTURE TEAM SYNERGY: 25% UNLOCKED]
After the call, Ben collapsed into bed at 10 PM, muscles aching pleasantly from Hill's training, mind buzzing from maintaining his various deceptions. His Spider-Sense hummed at low level, a constant comfort now, like having a guardian angel whispering warnings.
Tony appeared in the doorway, holding two mugs of hot chocolate.
"Too much? We can dial it back."
Ben shook his head. "I need this. I need to be ready."
Tony didn't ask "ready for what?"—he saw the determination in Ben's eyes and recognized it from his own mirror.
"Okay. But remember, you're still a kid. Let yourself be one sometimes."
After Tony left, Ben opened his System interface, staring at his nine remaining Legendary Tickets. Iron Man 2 events were maybe six months away. Thor maybe twelve. He needed to maximize every day.
His adult mind planned, calculated, strategized. But Tony's words echoed: let yourself be a kid sometimes.
He closed the System and grabbed his tablet, FaceTiming Kate back.
"Hey, want to watch that movie tomorrow? The one with the talking robots?"
Her sleepy but excited "YES!" made him smile.
Balance. He could be both—the man who knew the future and the boy living in the present.
Up to chapter 40
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