My carbon-based CPU crashed yesterday when I was uploading a chapter.
I've uploaded the unedited draft...
The previous chapter has been revised. I apologize to everyone.
During Harley's first week as a field agent, he was still getting used to the procedures and would spend his days in the equipment room after training, figuring out the parameters of his new battle armor.
On Friday evening, he had just come out of the training hall and was wondering whether to go to the cafeteria or go back to his dormitory.
At the end of the corridor, Peter was squatting on the windowsill, twirling a can of soda in his hand. When he saw him, he jumped down and waved.
Hey, Iron Lad.
Peter grinned and handed him the soda. "Orange flavor, I guess you'll like it."
Harley caught it, his fingertips touching the cool jar. "What are you doing here? You came before school was over?"
School ended early today, so I stopped by to take a look.
Peter glanced down the corridor. "Come on, I'll take you somewhere nice. It's getting stuffy here; we need some fresh air."
The two turned two corners, went up a flight of stairs, and pushed open a fire door, revealing a terrace outside.
A few old folding chairs, a faded plastic table, and a tin can of cigarette butts next to it.
There was no one around at this hour; a cool evening breeze blew by, and you could see the entire New York cityscape in the night.
Lights were sparsely lit in the buildings of Manhattan.
Occasionally, helicopters would fly close to the river surface, their navigation lights flashing.
Peter sat down in the chair, stretching his legs out. "I discovered this place by accident. JARVIS doesn't care about it, and nobody usually comes here."
Harley sat down next to him, pulled the tab on his soda, but didn't drink it right away.
Peter spoke first, "I wanted to talk to you the day Mr. Tony officially announced your joining the team, but I just hadn't found the opportunity. Before Mr. Tony talked to you, he talked to me first. Unfortunately, I couldn't satisfy him."
Harley turned to look at him.
Peter chuckled as he said this, "It took me a long time to get over it."
"Then what?"
"Then I accepted the outcome. I'm too soft-hearted, too trusting. If someone says a few nice things to me, I assume they must have a reason. If someone sheds a couple of tears in front of me, I might even go buy them tissues. How can someone like me handle all this? Leaders need to make decisions, and sometimes they have to put emotions aside. I can't do that."
He turned to look at Harley, his tone serious, "After getting to know you over this time, you are indeed more suitable than me."
Harley stared at him for a moment, then placed the soda can on the table, the bottom of which made a soft sound as it hit the plastic surface.
Don't you feel... resentful?
Peter thought for a moment, then shook his head. "It was a little bit at first, but then it stopped. I don't want to change my thoughts or my original intentions. Some people need to consider the bigger picture, but there should also be people who care about ordinary people at the bottom. The important thing is that we are all doing the right thing. Your arrival has put my mind at ease. You take over Mr. Tony's job, and I'll continue being Spider-Man."
Harley looked at him without saying a word. After a while, he said, "The you you know now is a little different from the you I've heard from others."
Peter choked on his soda. "Thanks!"
The two changed the subject and chatted for a while, watching the lights of the cars in the distance slowly move forward.
"I heard your armor is almost finished. We can go on a mission together then. I'd love to see what you look like in it. Aunt May's waiting for me to come back for dinner, so I'll be going now."
Harley nodded. "No problem."
The armor was delivered to the training facility on Tuesday.
Tony stood to the side, while Phastos adjusted the last few sets of parameters.
Tony picked up a palm-sized metal piece from the workbench and tossed it to Harley. The piece had two clips, a frosted surface, and looked unremarkable.
"Place it on your wrist. Tap it twice when you want to wear it."
Harley looked at it twice, then put it on his left wrist and tapped it twice.
Nanoparticles surged from the metal plate, climbing up the forearm, then split off at the shoulder and descended to cover the torso and legs. In a matter of seconds, the entire person was enveloped in matte dark gray armor.
He took half a step back, looked down at himself, and then raised his arm.
"Remember, this suit of armor isn't for you to play as an assault character."
Tony crossed his arms and said casually, "Your responsibilities include information, command, and logistical support. So the design of this suit has always had only one purpose: safety!"
He gestured with his chin towards the helmet. "The information integration system is directly connected to JARVIS's server, allowing for real-time synchronization of battlefield maps, friendly markers, threat distribution, and weapon status."
Phastos added from the side, "I've adjusted the information screen priorities. The command and analysis channel is in the center, and the environment scan and IFF are on either side. If you're not used to the feel of it, you can contact JARVIS to adjust and simplify it."
Tony glanced at him, but Phastos didn't say anything more.
"There is a main defensive module on the shoulder that can create an energy shield. At full power for forty seconds, it can support the width of three people."
Tony continued, "This shield isn't for you to charge in and tank fire; it's for providing support and self-defense when problems arise. Don't use it to tank heavy weapons. Your job is to make the team's roles clearer and more efficient, not to be at the forefront."
"I'll keep the palm-sized cannon for you, but I've lowered its power a bit. It'll be enough for self-defense. If you're really forced to fire yourself, it means the people in front of you are already in trouble. In that case, you need to think about how to turn the tide, not rush in and get blown up. Once you're completely familiar with your role, we'll continue to adjust your armor."
Tony paused, his tone unchanged. "Wear them and run around a couple of times to get used to the nano-layout. The center of gravity is lower than the basic model we gave you before."
Tony finally spoke, "Alright. This set will be your permanent gear from now on."
After Harley returned to his dormitory, he placed the metal plate on his bedside table and put it back on his wrist several times. He unfolded it, put it back, and unfolded it again.
On the third day, Tony ran into him in the hallway. "How's it going getting to know him?"
"It's alright. It's just that the data analysis sometimes scrolls too fast, and it's a bit hard to keep up."
On Friday afternoon, Tony called him over from the command room; a small mission area was marked on the holographic map.
"You'll be going on this mission with Peter," Tony said, pointing to the map. "It's not a large operation, and the enemy isn't many. This is your first time officially leading a team out. I'll be monitoring the command channel, but don't expect me to give you any advice."
Harley looked at the markings on the map and nodded.
On the Middle East border, a group of terrorists seized a communications station and took more than a dozen local technicians hostage. Intelligence indicated they were carrying heavy weapons, and the optimal window for intervention was only a few hours away. In the command center, Tony stood in front of a holographic map, while Phastos adjusted data beside him.
Natasha had already led her men to flank them. Harley and Peter would enter from the front. " Harley in charge," Tony said calmly over the radio. " Peter will assist. Harley's armor will protect him and relay information, while Peter will handle the distraction and pinning down the enemy. Remember to communicate promptly if you encounter any tough opponents."
"Clear."
"Receive."
The helicopter dropped the two people off two kilometers outside the town.
Harley walked ahead, the information screen in his helmet displaying the distribution of heat sources around the communications station.
Peter swung between the walls and the rooftops, where he was at a higher vantage point and had a wider view.
"Six heat sources. Four on the first floor, two on the second floor."
" Peter, go in through the west window on the second floor and push the people down. I'll go through the side door and herd the people on the first floor towards the east corridor. Natasha will provide backup from the east side."
"I saw it."
Peter's voice came through the headset. "It's definitely easier to have someone watching the whole situation from behind."
"Let's get moving to save time."
A few seconds later, a muffled thud was heard inside the building, followed by a brief exchange of fire. A heat source on the second floor moved downwards, converging on the first floor.
"One is under control on the second floor, and the other has run downstairs."
"Receive."
The battle was over in just two or three minutes.
The two exchanged a glance and said nothing more.
In the command center, Tony remained silent throughout.
Phastos and JARVIS stood to the side, watching the real-time data on the screen. Phastos wanted to speak several times.
Until Natasha confirmed that everyone was safe and the target was under control.
Tony sat in his chair, fingers resting on the armrest, watching Harley and Peter on the screen.
After a few seconds, he pressed the communication button, his voice calm. "It's alright, leave the cleanup to the logistics team. You guys can come back now."
The day after the mission, Tony ran into Harley in the hallway in the afternoon. Seeing Harry still reviewing the tactics on his wristband's information screen, Tony patted him on the shoulder. "Stop reviewing, it wasn't a big mission."
Tony tilted his head. "Everyone's been on edge for a while now. We've got some free time these days, how about we go out and clear our heads?"
Harley hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Anything is fine with me, whatever you say."
Tony turned around and called everyone over.
No sooner had the words "Let's go for a walk" been spoken in the meeting room than Natasha's eyes lit up.
Let's go to the Mountain City.
She leaned against the edge of the table. "You should remember the old hot pot place Lynn took me to before, the one in the alley. I've been thinking about it for a long time."
Lynn raised an eyebrow. "So, all you've been thinking about for so long is hot pot?"
Otherwise, would I miss you?
Natasha glanced at him, then turned to Tony and said, "Let's go there, to Dragon Country. Nobody will recognize us, and the food is better. It's much better than some resort island; it's full of reporters there."
Tony immediately approved. "Okay. JARVIS, proceed with the formalities as a private trip."
The formalities were completed quickly, and on the third day, the group entered the old shop in the alley. Half of the red paint on the signboard was missing, and the place was bustling with noise at dusk, the aroma of butter filling half the street. They sat in the innermost booth, and when the pot was served, it was covered with a layer of bright red butter, with Sichuan peppercorns and chili peppers floating on the surface, bubbling away.
"Mildly spicy?" Tony picked up his chopsticks, glanced at the pot, and said with a hint of disdain, "I thought you meant very spicy. This looks like it's cooked in tomato sauce."
Natasha smiled and handed him a plate of tripe, "Don't be stubborn, eat."
The first batch of tripe and duck intestines went into the pot, coated with a garlic and sesame oil dipping sauce. Tony picked up a piece with his chopsticks, chewed it a couple of times, and then stopped.
"How about it?"
Natasha looked at him, resting her chin on her hand.
"Good."
Tony remained expressionless, picked up his iced cola, and took a big gulp, though a fine layer of sweat quietly seeped from his forehead.
"It's just a bit hot, it's not that exaggerated."
No sooner had he finished speaking than a loud "Awooo!" came from the side.
Peter took a big bite of duck intestine, chewed a couple of times, then his eyes widened, he covered his mouth and gasped for breath, bouncing slightly on the spot. He grabbed the iced soy milk next to him and gulped it down. After a while, he finally caught his breath, his tongue slurred. "My God... this is supposed to be mildly spicy?! I feel like my tongue is burning! Melting!"
Phastos held his chopsticks, gazing at the pot for a long time before he hesitated.
This was the first time he had ever seen this way of eating. From the moment he sat down, he kept asking, "Why do we put it in the pot?" and "Can we eat this raw?" He finally managed to pick up a piece of cooked lotus root and carefully took a bite.
The next second, the Eternals Engineer, who had lived for seven thousand years, froze on the spot, as if he had been struck by a pressure point. His eyes slowly widened, and the tips of his ears turned red at a visible speed. After a long while, he managed to stammer out, "... It's attacking my oral mucosa." Everyone at the table burst into laughter instantly.
Lynn didn't say anything, slowly simmering the vegetables in the broth, eating most of a bowl of sesame oil without changing his expression.
He picked up a piece of tripe and put it in his bowl. "This won't do. It's only mildly spicy."
"Cough..."
That night they stayed in a house with a courtyard on the edge of the old town, which Lynn had booked before he set off. The courtyard was not big, with blue bricks paving the ground, a pomegranate tree planted in the corner, and half of the old street could be seen from the second-floor corridor. The soundproofing was so-so, and the windows faced the alley. At 5:30 in the morning, the breakfast stalls downstairs set up, and the shouts of vendors wafted in through the cracks in the windows.
The next morning, Peter was awakened by the shouts of vendors on the street. He opened the window and looked down. There was a row of breakfast stalls in the alley below, with steam rising from the steamers and oil sizzling in the pans.
He ran downstairs in his slippers, and ten minutes later he came back in the yard carrying a big bag of breakfast, calling out to everyone.
After breakfast, Lynn and Tony discussed it and said that they were free to do whatever they wanted today, just remember to come back in the evening.
Peter and Harley had a clear goal: to eat their way along the food street. Peter bought whatever he saw, and even after he was full, he couldn't resist the sight of grilled gluten. Harley followed behind him.
"Eat it," Peter mumbled, his mouth full of food.
"I'm eating."
"You've only taken one bite of that sausage since you got it."
When they reached the end of the street and were covered in food, Peter finally stopped and squatted down by the roadside to unpack the last skewer of fried mushrooms.
Harley stood to the side, looking up at the narrow sky above the alley. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the eaves on both sides, illuminating the opposite wall, where half of the plaster had peeled off, revealing the blue bricks underneath.
Peter squatted down and said, "Don't you think it's nice here?"
"In New York, when I go out to buy something at night, my ears are always perked up. If someone runs by in an alley, I first check where their hands are. If someone is lying down at a subway station entrance, I have to stop and see if they're asleep or if something's happened. Sometimes there's nothing wrong, I'm just walking by, but I'm still on edge, ready to spring into action at any moment."
He stuffed the last fried mushroom into his mouth and chewed it twice.
"It's different here. We walked three blocks just now, and no one rushed at us to steal anything, no one lay on the ground needing you to call 911, and an old man playing chess by the roadside even offered me a stool to sit on when he saw me squatting there."
The two walked back along the alley. The sun was already setting, and the light slanted down from the eaves, bathing half the street in a warm yellow hue. The small shop selling osmanthus cakes was still open; the owner leaned against the doorframe, chatting with the stall owner next door in a low, leisurely voice. A child rode past them on a scooter, followed by an old woman calling out, "Slow down!" The child giggled and disappeared into the alley next door.
Peter stared at the direction the child had turned into for two seconds.
Let's go.
"Um."
Are you going shopping again tomorrow?
"I'm still not done shopping."
There were no sirens, no gunshots. Just the sounds of voices in the alley, the clinking of spatulas against iron pots, and the laughter of children running by.