"Nice work, kid."
Tony Stark gave Peter a nod of approval.
When Ant-Man suddenly popped up earlier, he thought they'd lose the shield—but Peter reacted quickly and saved the moment.
"What the heck was that just now? Looked like something out of a comic book."
Rhodey shot off his questions like bullets.
"Ahem! I'm not some 'comic book monster.' Name's Ant-Man."
Scott got up from the ground, dusted himself off, and shot Peter a resentful look.
"Kids these days—no respect for their elders."
"I'll respect you when your hair turns gray, Uncle Ant."
Peter shot back without missing a beat.
"I'm not a bug—I'm Ant-Man! And you've got the nerve to talk, Spider-boy?"
"I'm not a boy—I'm Spider-Man."
The bickering was heating up again until Tony interrupted, clearly annoyed.
"There are two targets on the tarmac. One of them's Wanda—I'll handle it."
He pulled up a heat signature scan to track the enemy positions.
Meanwhile, Captain America stepped toward Peter, holding out his hand.
"Kid, can I have the shield back?"
Peter flipped the shield to his left hand and gave him a cheeky grin.
"Feels pretty good in my hands. I'll hold onto it for a bit."
CLANG!
An arrow flew in out of nowhere. Peter reflexively raised the shield and deflected it with ease.
"Nice reflexes," Tony said before jetting off toward the airstrip.
"Rhodey, you handle Cap."
"Got it. Two inside the terminal—Wilson and Barnes."
"Barnes is mine," T'Challa growled as he dashed toward the terminal.
Cap's face hardened. He knew getting the shield back wouldn't be easy, so he chased after them.
But even with all his strength, Steve was no match for the vibranium suit Black Panther wore. He was quickly overwhelmed.
Luckily, T'Challa wasn't going for the kill—just enough to pin him down.
Peter watched the chaos from above, and excitement sparked in his chest.
He fired a web onto a support beam, swung up into the air, and launched himself toward the terminal.
There, on the second floor, he spotted two figures running—one with a gleaming silver arm.
"That's gotta be the Winter Soldier," Peter muttered.
He raised the shield and SMASHED through the glass, leaping down right in front of them.
"Whoa—what the hell are you supposed to be?"
Bucky flinched, startled.
"Man, everyone's got something flashy these days," Sam said, sliding into a ready stance.
Peter's eyes locked on Bucky's metal arm.
"I mean, his gear looks just as fancy."
"You sure you wanna stop us?"
Bucky narrowed his eyes.
"Orders are orders."
Peter shrugged.
No more talking—
BOOM!
Bucky threw the first punch.
Peter blocked it with the shield—it barely shook him.
"Whoa, this shield is awesome!"
SPIDEY SENSE blared in Peter's head.
He jumped up just in time to dodge—
A blur shot past where he'd just been—Sam!
Falcon had his wings deployed and switched into combat mode.
"You've got wings, he's got a robo-arm, and I'm the flashy one?"
Peter fired a web at Sam's back.
Sam dodged mid-air and fired off a few micro-missiles.
Peter stepped to the side easily—none of them hit.
Clearly, he wasn't going for damage—just probing.
Everyone understood:
This wasn't a kill mission. They were pulling their punches.
Peter was loving it.
Another web shot—missed again.
Peter glanced at the shield.
"If I had both hands free, I'd have stuck you already. Shield's cramping my style."
Then an idea popped into his head.
"Catch!"
He hurled the shield at Bucky.
The Winter Soldier instinctively raised his metal arm to block it, stumbling back from the force.
Peter was already on Falcon, hands free now.
The terminal ceiling was high for regular people—but tight quarters for a flying guy.
Peter noticed, and took advantage.
He waited for Sam to dodge near a crossbeam—then fired a webline straight into his flight gear.
CLANK! CLANK!
The wing mechanism jammed—Falcon crashed to the floor.
Peter leaned forward as if to catch him, then realized the fall wasn't far enough to hurt.
He let it go.
Falcon rolled to his feet and raised his arm for another strike—
THWIP! THWIP!
Peter's webs fired again—pinning both his arms to the nearby railing.
"That wing tech is carbon fiber, right? No wonder it's so light and tough."
Falcon scowled.
"Do you make those webs yourself?"
Peter blinked.
"What? No way. I wish I could! If I could spin webs from my body, I'd be using them in class to cheat on tests... uh, forget I said that."
"Are you always this talkative in a fight?"
"No!" Peter blurted out, instantly defensive.
But...
That wasn't quite true.
Back in the Shadow Spider world—when he was fused with another version of himself—his demeanor had been colder. Quieter.
Now, though—this was him.
Just Peter.
The talking, the joking, the overthinking...
It wasn't because he didn't care.
It was because—
He was nervous.
—End of chapter—
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