The Revealing of a Stark

One Step Closer to the Truth

Peter placed his elbows on the scratched-up desk and held up his head with the palms of his hands. His eyes were burning because he stayed up to almost three o'clock last night editing a video for his new youtube channel.

The teacher in charge of the class was leaning back in his desk chair, snoozing away. Apparently, he had stayed out late last night instead of getting sleep like a normal person. Well, Peter assumed that's what normal people did.

While Peter was trying his best to stay awake, everyone else in the room chatted away about Mini Stark's latest video. That's what everyone now called him—well, that and Stark Jr—because Clint let slip the nickname as payback for one of Peter's pranks a few weeks ago (yes, Clint is very creative). One kid to Peter's left actually had the video playing on his phone. A few people were gathered around him watching. Peter decided to watch it too because he had nothing better to do.

Peter—of course, nobody actually knew it was Peter—walked into the main living room of Stark Tower.

A few weeks ago, Peter decided that he needed a new method for filming his videos. It was always a struggle to not show his body, and especially his face. He put together a small camera—almost like a GoPro—that he could place in a strap that circled his head. It made the footage look like it was in the first person.

The camera focused on a large U-shaped couch and a flat-screen TV. A man sat on the couch. Clint Barton—AKA Hawkeye. He had a controller in his hands, and his eyes were focused intently on the TV which had Mario Kart playing.

Peter lifted a gun into view. "Hey, Uncle Clint," He lightly called. The smirk nobody could see could be heard in his voice. "Want to play a game?"

Clint vaulted himself off the couch—but not before pausing the game, obviously—and twisted around to face Peter. His eyes widened. "Is that a gun?"

The camera tilted down so that the audience could better see the weapon in Peter's hands. Of course, nothing else was shown. It took Peter hours to figure out the right positions to move his head so nothing on him would give his identity away. If anyone he knew saw even a sliver of his shirt, they would immediately know who Stark Jr was.

"Yup," Peter popped the 'p'. "I tweaked it a bit. Added paintballs." His voice took on a darker tone, "I'd imagine it feels like getting shot with real bullets." 

Droplets of sweat started to form on Clint's forehead. He took a step back. "How long are you going to keep this thing up? It's been over a month!"

"You did let slip a huge secret that's been kept a secret for over fifteen years," Peter pointed out.

Clint quickly changed the topic away from one of the biggest mistakes of his life. "Do you even know how to shoot that thing? I don't want you shooting the Wii! That would probably mess up your high score."

"We both know I won't miss."

The color drained out of Clint's face. It now resembled a piece of white paper. Peter lifted the gun into view and aimed it at Clint. But before he could pull the trigger, a small creak drew his attention to the left. The audience could see Clint's chest deflate before he went out of view.

A waving hand replaced the gun. "Hey, Aunt Nat," Peter greeted. His voice had a much lighter tone than a few seconds ago.

Natasha's eyes moved down to the gun sitting in Peter's hands and then moved to the right, where Clint stood fearfully pressed against the wall. "What are you doing with that—?" A quacking duck bleeped out Peter's name.