“Master Parker,” Cassie informed Spider-Man as he swung through the air. “I’ve got an incoming call from Tony in regards to your new suit.”

“Put him up, Cass” Spider-Man acknowledged. “I want to thank him for making the best suit in the world.”

“How’s the suit working for you?” Tony asked, nursing a brandy as they spoke. “Not chafing or rubbing anywhere it shouldn’t be, is it?”

“Nope, this thing’s amazing. I couldn’t’ve asked for a better piece of tech,” Spider-Man answered with a grin.

“Well, I’ve got something back here that might change your mind,” Tony said. “Come on back to the Triskellion. I’ll show you what it is and why I needed your other suit.”

“Right, I’ll be there soon,” Spider-man nodded. “Spider out.”

“Sounds interesting,” Cassie commented. “I wonder what he’s cooked up for you.”

“Let’s hurry up and find out,” Spider-man said, firing a web onto a nearby building and swinging off the roof he was on, going through all the possibilities of what Stark could’ve cooked up for him.

Making quick time back to the Triskellion, Spider-Man was back in the lab Stark had sent him off in, seeing the older man standing over a table with a device in the middle of it, hooked up to several different wires and machines.

“So,” Spider-Man said, taking off his helmet, “Whatcha got for me?”

“Something you’re gonna like,” Stark said, sighing heavily before turning around. “And something else you’re not.”

“Well, with me being quite the cynic, gimme the bad news first,” Peter said, setting the helmet down on the table.

“Fury’s classified the armour you’re wearing a defcon two,” Tony sighed, taking hold of the helmet and looking at the black glass object.

“Wait… you mean I don’t get to keep it?” Peter asked in shock. “I only get to use this in a matter of national crisis?!”

“No, not national crisis kid, that’s defcon one. Defcon two, at least for us, is a state of the U.S being threatened; defcon three is a city being threatened; defcon four is a borough of a city, and defcon five is a street, which is what classifies as a lesser crime, and something you deal with on a daily basis.,” Tony explained.

“So you’re telling me that I can’t use this again until somebody threatens to blow up the entire New York State?” Peter growled.

“Or any of the other remaining forty nine states,” Tony nodded. “Sorry kid, it’s not my choice.”

Peter crossed his arms, staring angrily at the floor for a long second before sighing, and nodding in agreement.

“And I’m guessing it would be suicide to try and steal this thing?” he asked.

“Without a doubt, Pete,” Tony said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and walking back to the table.

“Well… fuck,” Peter sighed, hitting the release switch on his wrist, the plates popping out and sliding out of their locked positions, allowing him to remove the armour. “I’m gonna miss this thing… and Cassie, too.”

“I’m about to rectify that,” Stark said, looking at the computer screen on the table before grinning, seeing that whatever he was doing had finished. removing the small device from it’s many plugs and wires he handed the device to Peter.

“Is this what I think it is?” Peter asked with a grin, looking up at Stark with an excited glint in his green eyes. “Please tell me it is.”

“Put it on and find out,” Stark said, taking a step back and giving Peter space.

Peter examined the object thoroughly, it’s design being a simple steel band in a cuff-watch style with a large, blank screen set into a rotatable dial that seemed to be adjustable. On the sides of the device were two buttons, seemingly needed to activate it.

“So Stark, tell me what this is before I use it,” Peter requested with a grin, placing the device onto his wrist and watching as several small pieces of metal buzzed, locked and tightened to a perfect fit.

“Well… I call it the molecular transportation and armouring device. It uses nano-machines installed in any particular piece of clothing or accessories to break them down and transport them through teleportation to a predetermined location on the body to lock back into place with the others. This location is dictated by the programming of the nanomachines that transport them,” Stark explained.

“Right, so can we just skip the shit and call it what it really is?” Peter asked. “It’s a power morpher, Stark.”

“Huh, if you say so, kid,” Stark shrugged.

“Hey, can you see that thing that’s coming roughly a mile away?” Peter asked, looking out of the window.

“What… what are you talking about?” Stark asked in confusion.

“Oh, it’s the joke I’m about to make,” Peter smirked, squaring his stance and putting a determined look on his face before bellowing his next line. “It’s Morphing Time!”

With the iconic callout, Peter cocked his right hand back while extending his left out in front of him. He then brought his right wrist up to his left shoulder while at the same time bringing his left hand back into the morpher, activating the sequence and, once hearing the morpher power up, lashed both of his hands down to his waist, and held his fists upwards and tensing.

With a bright flash of light, his usual Spider-Man duds were transported from wherever Stark had put them and, using the nanomachines, removed the under armour he wore for the other suit as it covered his body with his old one.

With the suit being secured in place, he lashed his arms around briefly before dropping into a low crouch, holding one hand above his head and the other extended parallel to the floor, both hands performing his signature web-shooting pose.

“Spider-Ranger, online!” he said, standing up straight once more and assuming a ready stance.

Stark was silent for a long second before clapping sarcastically, chuckling under his breath.

“Beautiful, simply beautiful,” Stark laughed. “You colossal, fucking dork.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Spider-Man said, dancing back and forth on his feet in an excited manner. “Did I do good?”

“Beautifully, Master Parker,” Spider-Man heard Cassie say from lower down.

His eyes fell onto the morpher, holding it up to check it only to see a projection of a gorgeous, long-haired woman come from the watch.

“Hang on… Cassie?” Spider-Man asked in shock, noting the outfit, hairstyle and large-busted design she’d been given. “Is that what you’re supposed to look like?”

“I’m not supposed to look like anything,” she answered “With the morpher having projection capabilities, I decided to give myself an appearance that you’d find visually appealing, as well as something that matches the voice I’d been given, I’ll tell you the inspiration later, if you wish?”

“Uhhh… yeah, sure,” Spider-Man nodded, looking back up at Tony, the billionaire merely shrugging in confusion. “Anything else, Tony?”

“Nope… that’s it, get going kid,” Tony said, waving goodbye.

“Right, thanks man, I appreciate it,” Spider-Man said, the two men thoroughly weirded out by Cassie’s gorgeous physical appearance. “See you round… I guess.”

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