Peter was sat down next to Carol, the aforementioned blonde woman now occupying her time trying to stack drink coasters due to sheer boredom on behalf of having to wait for the S.H.I.E.L.D lower-downs to dig up the files on the shipments of possible Ray units into the country.

Peter turned to Carol with a questioning glance before she justified her actions with a well-worded sentence.

“Shut it,” she began. “I’m bored.”

“Fair enough,” Peter said with a shrug, turning his head to look at Natasha who was currently reading through something on a S.H.I.E.L.D brand tablet.

“Hey, Widow?” Peter called over to her.

“Listening,” she answered.

“What happened to Cassie?” he asked her.

“Your phone was wrecked when the tanker went down,” she explained.  “Luckily, we were able to salvage the software Cassie operates on from the hard drive.  Your numbers and texts, however, weren’t so lucky.  We managed to get you a new phone, though.”

“No expense spared, I’m guessing?” Peter grinned.

“But of course,” Widow nodded, sliding a Nokia 3310 over the table at him.

Peter stared at the small, blue phone for a moment, his eyes scanning every lack of curve on the blocky bastard before throwing his eyes back up to Widow with the fires of hell burning in them.

“Right,” he announced.  “If you’re seriously giving me the phone for the reason I think you are, then you could’ve just written ‘Fuck You’ on a piece of paper and it would’ve cost less.”

“It was twenty bucks, Peter,” Widow said, dragging a finger down the tablet to scroll back up to something she’d missed. “I’m a multi-millionaire.”

“That-” Peter began before catching himself.  “What, seriously?”

“Oh yeah,” Carol interjected.  “S.H.I.E.L.D pays all of their employees an amazing salary as well as yearly bonuses based on work completion and ethic, as well as free dental care.  They also throw in leave three times a year and paid sick leave as well.”

“What are their starting rates?” Peter asked, now genuinely interested in the agency.  “Vacations? Company bonuses?”

“For interns?” Widow said.  “There aren’t any.  You have to be over eighteen to be officially employed and need to have at least a year of service before they start offering bonuses.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Peter stated.  “If I were to join, how much would I get as a base salary?”

“Well, that depends,” Widow said, putting the tablet down and looking up at Peter.  “Like most companies there are different roles that different people fill in.  You could get a job as a data analyst or you could clean up the bathrooms.”

“And having to pledge allegiance and be willing to be monitored twenty four seven just to clean out a stall is kind of a hefty price,” Carol added.

“Too true,” Widow agreed.  “Working for S.H.I.E.L.D removes any sort of privacy from day-to-day life.”

“Wait, how does it?” Peter asked.

“Well,” Carol started, “S.H.I.E.L.D keeps tabs on everyone it employs, whether you’re sweeping the floors or carrying around a briefcase that contains documents could destroy the U.S. economy through scandals and raw deals doesn’t matter.  They’re always watching to make sure you don’t go rogue.”

“And what happens if you do go rogue?” Peter asked.

“They usually send a team to take you out, usually headed by Coulson,” Widow said with a wave of her hand.

“Have I met him yet?” Peter inquired.

“No, he’s off somewhere else doing something less cool than what we are,” Widow answered with a shrug before standing up.  “Anyone want coffee?”

“Sure, two sugars and extra caffeine,” Carol said with a nod.

“Please,” Widow corrected.

Carol responded by sticking her middle finger up at Widow, who merely turned to Peter and asked his choice.

“What about you, small-fry?”

“I’m good thanks.  Can I get a diet coke please?”

“Is Pepsi okay?”

“Die in a hole?”

“Right, I’ll get right on that,” Widow chuckled, moving her chair back and walking out of the briefing room, a young girl with black hair walking past her.

“Hey Jess, just be warned that the love of your life is in here,” Widow said with a smirk, patting the smaller girl on the shoulder as she walked past.

“I’ve already told you-” Jessica began before being cut off.

“Whatever, just make sure I get an invite to the wedding!” Widow called from down the hall, giving the black-haired girl a thumbs up before disappearing around the corner.

The green-eyed agent sighed angrily, storming around the corner before her eyes locked onto Peter, freezing instantly.

“Hi Jess,” Carol said with a wave.  “What d’you need?”

“I, uh, I’m looking for Director Fury?” she asked, snapping back to reality and looking at Carol “I’d like to talk to him about when he’s going to let me take the Holo-Exam.”

“Well he’s not here at the moment,” Carol said before pulling out a chair on her right side.  “You can take a seat and wait for him if you want?”

“Uhhh…” Jessica said, scratching the back of her head nervously before shrugging.  “Yeah, okay.”

Peter recognized the voice but wasn’t too eager to talk to her after their last encounter, where he’d been kind of a prick, and figured he’d either do the masculine thing of neglecting to mention it and start again or to do the right thing and apologize.

“So…” Jessica began.  “What’re you guys doing here?”

“We’re currently waiting for an update on Fury’s plan to take care of Smythe’s plan,” Carol said with a sideways glance at Jessica.

“Is… is that a sly way of telling me I’m not allowed to know?” Jessica asked.

“Yes it is, my friend,” Carol smiled, patting the shorter girl on the head.

“Great,” she sighed, resting her arms on the table and then resting her head on her arms.  “I can’t wait until I pass that Holo-Exam, then I’ll get to know things.”

Peter at this point stood up out of his chair, the two girls taking notice of this, Jessica’s eyes widening as he walked over to her and held out his hand.

“Hey, look…” he began.  “Before I start crying like an emasculated little boy because of the fact that I have to admit I’m in the wrong, I’d like to say that I’m sorry about how I acted the first time we met and I wanna start again, if you don’t mind?”

Jessica stared at his hand for a long second, her eyes moving over to Carol, the older woman giving a supportive nod, before Jessica took his hand and shook it with a smile.

“Peter Parker,” Peter said.

“Jessica Drew,” Jessica responded.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, Jessica,” Peter grinned.

“Right!” came Fury’s voice from the doorway, the tall man hurrying into the room with several tablets in his arms, sliding them across the table to each in attendance, his eye landing on Jessica before raising an eyebrow.

“Ms. Drew?” he asked.

“Right, leaving,” she nodded, getting up out of her chair and heading out of the room and, once out of sight, silently squeeing happily before hurrying off down the corridor.

“Anyway,” Fury began, “after Stark’s brilliant deconstruction and analyzation of Ray’s internal wiring and hardware, we’ve managed to find its weakness, but it’s not an easy one to exploit.”

“Please tell me it’s stinger missiles?” Peter asked.  “It’s usually stinger missiles.”

“Sadly no, we’ve managed to find out, for the unmanned Rays that is, that its central A.I. core, which doubles as its remote control point, is located in its head, pretty much its brain,” Fury continued.  “Now the only way to get to the brain is through a small USB port in the back of its mouth.”

“Seems like quite a glaring weak point if I’m honest,” Carol said, drumming her fingers on the table.

“And if I’m honest Carol, I’d like to see a normal man plug a USB stick into the mouth of a twenty-foot tall, nuclear-equipped, walking tank armed to the teeth with machine guns, flares, plasma beams, and heat-seeking missiles,” Fury said.

“Point taken,” Carol nodded.  “Continue.”

“So the plan we’ve come up with is to get a virus into Ray’s system that’ll shut down the A.I. or block out the controller’s access to the machine and allow us to seize it,” Fury said.

“Whoa, whoa… seize it?” Peter demanded.  “We’re not destroying it?”

“Of course not,” Fury said with a pointed finger.  “This thing could be the ultimate weapon to benefit the U.S.’s defenses and would enable us to enter combat zones and destroy the enemy swiftly and easily.  Of course, we’d be removing the nuclear weapons from the Rays in case they were captured or one of the pilots went rogue.”

“That-” Peter began with his own pointed finger before falling silent, thinking it over for several seconds before giving a different response.  “Well… the real danger with the Gears was their nuclear capabilities… and I suppose the only difference between a combat-enabled Ray and an F-22 fighter jet is that Ray would be slower… and would walk.”

“See?” Fury asked.  “Without their nuclear weapons Ray is pretty much a tank that stands on legs, equipped with a cannon and machine guns, much like any standard issue Sherman or Tiger tank kid.  There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Well… I’m guessing the cost is a big problem?” Peter offered.  “Because with each Ray model using vibranium in it’s armour, the U.S isn’t exactly gonna be able to roll these things off the production line as quickly as they did the Shermans, aren’t they?

“And that only makes it better, doesn’t it?” Fury asked.

“Yeah… I guess it does,” Peter nodded. “Good talk, Fury.”

“You too, Parker,” Fury chuckled before continuing.  “As I was saying, Ray has its port in the back of it’s mouth, and in order to get to it, we’re gonna need each individual Avenger to pitch in.”

“Even me?” Peter asked.

“Yes, even you kid,” Fury nodded.  “We’re gonna use you as armoured bait.”

“Okay, two things?” Peter suggested.  “What the fuck do you mean bait and what the fuck do you mean armoured?”

“I can answer that one,” Stark said, walking into the room with a briefcase in his hand.  “What d’you think about the Iron Spider?”

“I think I’m interested is what I think,” Peter said, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Continue?”

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