Chapter 8:
Coincidence?
Peter Parker:
I'm telling you, the world works in weird ways.
For instance, the moment I log online to go to my yahoo, all I see is a girl in Boston who looks like Mason.
No, that's not the weird part.
The weird part was that right underneath that, Jensen Ackles shows up with Jared Padalecki for a Supernatural reunion.
Now, I've been screwed over before from the world. Its given me fake villians, fake heroes, and fake cheese. But when you see Mason Stark and the main stars of Supernatural on the same page, you don't ignore it.
But first stop was that I had to actully prove that a Stark was up and running. So first person I go to?
Natasha Romanoff.
She was in one of the training rooms at Avenger Tower. The whole building was dedicated to anyone in sheild by Tony Stark, right after Mason turned 18 in 2013.
(Its 2021, by the way)
When we first lost Mason and Steve, it seemed kind of weird to walk in.
We were a broken family, two sides of a war trying to reunite. No one wanted anyone to die, we all just wanted what we thought were right.
Mason and I were on opposite teams, her with the team opposing the Superhuman Registration Act and me for it. I would love to say it didn't bother our relationship but it did.
But we were still stroung, just having a huge fight.
Anyways, when I walked in Natasha was busy killing a dummy.
When its neck was ripped off (thank god it's only stuffing) and she calmed down, I made my presense known.
"What do you want Peter?"
She made my presense known, I mean.
I stepped up, handing her a water bottle. "Where is Masons body?"
She paused mid-sip, giving me a look. "I assume in the ground."
"You assume?"
She capped it, setting it on the table. "Tony was in charge of the destination of her. I'm not sure if she's at Sheild or in the ground."
I showed her the latest head line for Daily Bugle. God bless newspapers, newspapers that still print in the god forsaken world.
"Could this be her? In anyway?" I followed her to the benches, acting like gum on the bottom of her shoe.
She looked at the blurry pictures. Admitily, they were really blurry. Like, someone could have easily say this was Bigfoot and people could buy it.
Then she looked me in the eye, and I saw something. But it was gone as soon as it came. "Peter, you need to realize. Mason. Is. Dead. She is not coming back, and she won't come back."
She patted my shoulder and left.
I puffed at her. "I just wanted to know. Jeez."
________
Mason Stark
I've been awake for almost 52 hours.
Grant came in a few hours ago, gave the pile of glass a look then just plopped his ass down on the couch in the corner, cleaning his gun.
I looked over, and thew him the one in my hands. "Try this."
He caught it, glancing at me. I must have been a sight-Messy hair, set in features, and maybe brusies under my eyes. But I've been working, and I was ready to pass out on my feet yesterday so it would be nice if he could just shot the damn gun so I can see of its safe.
He got up, admiring (or what better be) it. "This feels...thinner."
I nodded, motionting to the targets on the wall. "I thinned the metel, traded the gauge on for a longer one and gave it heavier but smaller bullets for easier killing now will you shoot the damn thing so I can give the geeks their new techno stuff?"
"I did not understand a word of that." He informed me.
I gave him a flat look. "Shoot the gun."
He did, getting the bulls eye. He looked surprised. "Wow. It's quieter."
I nodded. "Yep. I silenced the over all boom, so the impact would be more of a surprised." I looked at his hands and swore. "Fuck."
I grabbed the gun. "What?" he asked.
Grabbing the ruler, I put it to his right hand. "I made the gun to small. And trust me, getting your fingers stuck in metal hurts like a bitch."
He moved his hands away, taking the ruler. "Mason, the gun is fine." He grabbed my hands and jumped a little.
"What?" I snapped. All I wanted was to measure his hands, and now he's going to judge mine?
He shook his head. "No, I'm just surprised. Your hands aren't soft and baby like I thought they would be."
I blanched at that. "I'm a mechanic, Iron Avenger and a genius- and you thought my hands werent calloused?"
My hands weren't as rough as they used to be- I guess me being dead will soften and heal hands.
"So your not going to try and keep them that way?" I looked up, surprised I actually said that.
Grant pulled a chair from beside me, sitting down.
I shrugged. "The first time I ever played with a tool, I was 4 and got a few stiches. I wanted to be become Dad and I just...I just want them to be back to how they were." My throat closed up, stinging.
He was silent. "You guys were close, weren't you?"
I pulled up the corners of my mouth, a half heart attempt to get a ghost of a smile. "We were. For the longest time, it was the Dad and Mason age. Pep didn't really get involved until I was maybe 8 or 10. " I shook my head and got up, steching.
"Why do you care anyways?"
He looked at me, not knowing what to say. "I saw you guys on the cover of a Newspaper when I was 8. I felt bad for you at first, because I had siblings and you didn't. But I kept seeing headlines and saw you be closer to your dad then I was with any sibling."
I picked up Wheezys water dish, getting some dog food out of it. "How close were you guys?"
He settled on the chair, blue shirt (was that Tardis?) streching along his shoulders. "Closer then Winchesters." his face turned red. "I mean-"
"No one is closer then Sam and Dean are." I said.
His face immediately brighten. "I wouldn't be to sure." Then "You watch Supernatural?"
I nodded. "My favorite season is 2, even if that basically starts all the shit."
He shook his head, getting up to help me put some tools on a few benches. "No, season 4 started it."
"That guy Jake killed Sammy in Season 2. If he didnt do that then Dean wouldnt have had to sell his soul, he wouldnt have gone to Hell and break the 1st seal. Jake started the apocalypse."
He brought up his hand where blood was coming down. "Saws are dangerous."
I picked up said saw with blood drops. "No, inexperienced babysitters in my workshop are dangerous."I yawned.
He nudged me towards the door. "Get some sleep."
I shook my head. "Don't need to. I've slept for 2 years."
"You've been dead for 2 years."
Shut up you little shit. I didn't feel dead.
I shook my head. "Can't."
He stood up, coming a little to close for me to appreciate. "Can't or won't?"
"Does it matter?"
_______
Grant Ward
We all heard the glass breaking, her yelling. We knew that it was her way of trying to make any sense of this.
She looked tired, eyes bleary and red, skin pale and hair flat. She was going to pull a Sam Winchester, and pretty soon her hair was going to fall out and her nails were going to come off unless she got some sleep.
I grabbed her shoulder by one arm and grabbing Glitter the dog with the other.
"No, your going to come up stairs and sleep. No, eat them sleep. Abrams sent over some files saying you need to at least check out of you can handle it." I gave her Glitter.
She snuggled the dog closer. "Wheezy?" she turned but I still angled her up the stairs.
"Has been with May for a few hours." I pushed her up the stairs, ignoring her winces.
We made it up stairs, me basically pushing her by now.
Wheezy walked towards her, pushing her nose into Masons hip. She smiled down at her.
"I know, I'm sorry girl." she looked up where May was. "Hey! I got a gun that would fit your hands! It's down stairs tho." she looked back but I kept pushing her forward.
"Mason, focus." We made it to the kitchen. "Do you like fruit?"
"Apples. And apple juice, apple sauce, apple pie." She trailed off. She was really tired.
I grabbed one and handed it to her. She took it and bit it.
She made a face when she swallowed and shook her head. "That's disgusting."
Mason yawned and I pointed her towards the hall to the bedrooms.
She sighed but walked down it. "You know," I said. "You listen well when you have no choice in the matter. "
"I'm only listening because you watch Supernatural and you have the Tardis on your shirt. Other then that your lucky."
May looked at me, raising one eye brow. She motioned to Mason then to my shirt.
I gave her a look. "I like Doctor Who. And were babysitting-"
"I'm twenty fucking four years old!"
"-so why should we strap on the uniform?"
The Eyebrow stayed raised as I went to help Mason.
"When you talk-"
"I can talk over and around people and know what their saying and sometimes I forget that other people can't talk as fast as me or talk over and around other people." She looked at me. "Fair warning, I talk fast. A lot. Its part of my whole ADHD thing."
We turned a corner. "You have ADHD?"
She nodded. "I have it, Dad had it, Grandma Stark had it. It's a family thing."
She stopped at a wall. It had a lot of pictures on it, the first being a little girl, who I assume Mason, and Tony the last being Tony and Mason but older.
"Hey," I nudged her when she didn't move. "You gonna be alright?"
Shaking her head she walked down the hall to her room, let Wheezy in, and shut the door,not answering me.
________
It was hours until we saw Mason again.
When she came out her hair was wet and she smelled like shampoo. She was wearing sweatpants that looked old and faded and thy were a little to nog for her, sweatshirt matching.
Wheezy strutted in next to her, bobbing over to everyone to say hi.
Simmons looked up, beaming. "Mason, I just love what you did with everything. And thank-"
"No, it's fine." Mason interjected. She slid into the free chair across from Fitz. "I figure if I'm being babysat, then my sitters should atleast have top of the line technology." she paused. "Or what I think is top of the line, I haven't really been out."
May shifted in her seat, putting down her book. "Speaking of getting out, your going to Chicago. "
Mason shot her head up from her lap. "What?"
She shofted on the chair, leaning over the clear table. She put her hands on it, curving them and immediately the table lite up.
I blanched. "What the..."
She looked up. "Most everything that's in here is, or could be, technology. You guys really haven't noticed this?"
Simmions shook her head. "Ive been more interested in the toaster going around, calling itself George."
Mason pulled up a few files. "It says that no one but us, Fury, Coulson, Ollie Abrams and Pep know I'm alive."
"Where going to the Chicago base." May continued.
I gave Mason a look. "Why do you keep refreing Abrams to 'Ollie Abrams'?"
She shrugged. "Why do people still wear socks with sandles?"
"Anyway," May cut in. "We are leaving in about 3 hours. Will you be okay to travel?"
Mason yawned. "Sure, why not."
______
Mason Stark.
There are only a few things im afraid of.
World ending, dieing, and spiders (And I've done all three. Figuratively on the spider). But now I cam offically put on the list future.
The future doesn't have flying cars or teleportation yet. There's no Doctor coming, no time travel. But I'm a person who grew up on technology. Sure, my house is still more advanced then most (all), and the president is the same as I died, but it's all...new.
I have no idea what's going on, I can't argue on politics, and I've recently found out that the government crashed and that Dad murdered himself just a few days after my anniversary.
What I can tell you is that Steve was the bravest persom I've ever known.
He froze in 1944. He was in ice for 70 years, coming back from bascally the dark ages to the new and improved earth where the world wasn't at war, everyone he knew was dead, and where he was 94.
But he didn't even crack.
Then here I am, greving over one dead person and over being dead for only 2 years.
Steve lost everyone, lost decades of his life and he's dead. For good this time.
And I'm not.
---------
"Can I take the hood down?"
"No."
"Who is really going to believe I'm alive?"
"Shut up."
May is such the conversationalsit.
I puffed, pulling my jeans up again. Being dead made me lose some weight which I don't understand at all. Sure, I've been on a all liquid diet for the past 5 days I've been back, but I should alteast be getting around a little extra baggage.
We walked through the elevator doors, my babysitters creating a block around me.
Grant out his hand on my back again. "You doing okay?" he whispered.
I nodded. "I'm not going to fall and break, you know that right?"
"Abrams said to be weary of you, that your legs might need to be broken into walking." he pointed out.
I scoffed at that. "I've been on my feet nearly non stop. They don't even hurt as much."
Sky nudged my side. "They wouldn't hurt at all of you would just rest for a bit."
The elevator dinged open. "I've had plenty of time to rest."
Our footsteps were lost in the noise of this floor. Surprisingly busy.
A few of these agents had body transformions, some human and some not so human, all bearing a large X on there suits.
Mutents.
Now, I don't hate mutants or anything. Infact, some of my closet friends are (were) mutants.
But sometimes my luck with mutants is rotton. It's not because I have bad luck or I piss them off, its because one particular mutant was there on that particular day at this particular shield HQ.
And that was the moment I was shoved put the building.