Before leaving the Raft, Peter spent a few minutes studying the patrol drones. Tony had called the system Ultron Version 2. According to the specs Tony had laid out, it was built on a closed-loop behavioral architecture and was strictly non-self-iterating. It wasn't the hyper-complex, terrifyingly vivid artificial intelligence from the movies. It was rigid, rudimentary, and inflexible—exactly like the earliest comic book iterations. If the Raft weren't officially operating under World Security Council jurisdiction outside of Stark Industries, Tony definitely would have just used JARVIS.
Peter watched a drone march past a transparent cell block. He fully intended to discuss his concerns about the directive language with Hank Pym directly. He needed to convince Hank not to program anything vague and sweeping, like "working for the peace of all mankind." Binary brains processing abstract concepts with only zeros and ones usually took things to absolute, homicidal extremes. If they kept the parameters realistic, maybe this robot could actually just be a helpful security system.
With the Raft situation settled, Peter headed back to the city.
The American high school system ran on rotating schedules, meaning there was no dedicated homeroom teacher to hold a new student's hand. Instead, that burden fell on the guidance counselors.
On Thursday morning, fresh off his patrol route, Peter was summoned to the counselor's office.
"Peter, this is Cindy Moon," the counselor said, gesturing to the girl standing quietly by the filing cabinets. "She is officially enrolled as a transfer student from Vision Academy. Looking at her transcripts, your schedules are an exact match."
The counselor smiled, fully prepared to offload her responsibilities. "Could you show her around today? Lockers, cafeteria, library, that sort of thing?"
Peter didn't have much of a choice. He faked a polite, completely unbothered smile and extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Cindy."
Cindy reached out and shook it. "Pleasure to meet you, Peter."
She was playing the part perfectly. S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol dictated her role here: she observes, she does not initiate. They stepped out into the hallway and walked toward their first-period classroom in total silence.
"So, this is our room," Peter said, breaking the awkward quiet as they stepped through the door. "Not a huge class. Pick wherever you want to sit."
He walked over and dropped his backpack next to his usual desk. Harry hadn't arrived early today. Peter pulled out his chair and sat down.
Cindy scanned the room. There were plenty of empty desks. She walked straight over, dropped her books, and chose the seat right next to his. In fact, she would end up choosing the seat next to his in every single class.
She looked at him. "Did I disturb you?"
"No, no, you're fine," Peter laughed, quickly pulling out a textbook to hide his grimace. He flipped through the pages to see what he'd missed while he was in Madripoor.
A moment later, Peter's enhanced hearing picked up footsteps and familiar voices echoing down the hall. Harry and Amadeus. By the time Peter had returned from Madripoor, Harry and Amadeus had advanced to walking to school and eating lunch together. It was a friendship formation that had occurred entirely in his absence.
They stopped at the classroom door. Harry grabbed Amadeus by the sleeve, halting him in his tracks. Harry nodded toward Peter's desk, specifically pointing out the new girl sitting in Harry's usual spot.
"I don't know her," Amadeus said flatly. He gave Harry a look that clearly meant: Just because she's Asian and I'm Asian doesn't mean we automatically know each other.
"I'm not saying that," Harry muttered, keeping his voice low. "I'm saying look at the room. There are twenty empty seats, and she chose to sit right next to Peter."
Harry caught Peter looking at them. He gave a puzzled nod, then walked to the back row and took a seat next to Amadeus.
"Welcome back, buddy," Harry said, clapping Peter on the shoulder as he passed.
"Thanks," Peter said. He turned in his chair. "Guys, this is Cindy Moon. She just transferred here, and the counselor asked me to show her around. Cindy, this is Harry Lyman and Amadeus Cho."
Cindy gave them a single, expressionless nod, then immediately turned back to her textbook.
Harry and Amadeus exchanged a long look. Amadeus didn't actually care about the seating arrangement; he had only looked over because Harry prompted him. But Harry was already tracking the social geometry of Peter's life with the same quiet attention he applied to everything.
Cindy looked at Peter again. "Did I disturb you?"
"No, definitely not," Harry answered before Peter could even open his mouth.
Peter shot Harry a glare. Harry ignored him, pulled out his phone, and started texting Amadeus from the adjacent table.
I think we'll be sitting back here from now on, Harry typed.
Amadeus felt his phone buzz. He checked the screen and sent back a single question mark.
Harry's thumbs flew across the keyboard. Do you think Gwen knows about this?.
A second later, Amadeus replied with an I understand emoji.
First period dragged on. When the bell finally rang, Peter packed his bag. He glanced over at Cindy. She sat perfectly still, hands folded over her notebook, waiting for his cue. Peter identified her behavioral style almost immediately. It was a perfect mirror of his own public persona—a permanent data-gathering phase. She was playing the role of the ultimate S.H.I.E.L.D. employee.
"Should we... head to the next class?" Peter asked.
Cindy nodded and stood up in unison with him.
She shadowed him the entire day. She sat next to him, took immaculate notes, and moved only when he moved, like a highly trained wooden doll.
When the final bell rang, Peter walked her to the front doors. "You know, you could look into some of the after-school activities. If you have time. Maybe make some friends?"
Cindy adjusted her backpack strap. "I've been observing you. You don't seem to have many friends. Is it unnecessary to have a large number?"
"One or two seems manageable," Cindy added before he could answer.
Peter rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a headache coming on. "That's how it starts," he muttered.
He had a full four years of high school left to survive.