“Hello.
Are you Happy?” Peter walked downstairs to find a luxury car parked at the entrance.
Looking through the window, he could see a heavy-set man sitting in the driver’s seat, though Iron Man was nowhere to be seen.
The heavy-set man cast a glance in his direction and gave a brief nod.
There was a soft *clack* as the door unlocked.
“Get in, Mr.
Parker.” “Oh, right.
Mind telling me where we’re headed?” Peter asked, settling into the back seat.
There hadn’t been time to ask much of anything this morning—Iron Man had been in quite a rush and left plenty of details unsaid.
“Tony didn’t tell you?
You’re going to Germany.” “Huh?” Peter blinked in surprise.
“Why Germany?
Isn’t this happening in the US?” “Of course not.
It’s Germany.
You seriously didn’t know?” Happy replied without turning his head.
He possessed a swift, decisive style that completely belied his bulky appearance—even as he spoke, he had already started the car and merged smoothly into traffic.
“How on earth was I supposed to know we were going to Germany…?
I don’t even have a passport!” Peter was utterly speechless.
“Oh, don’t worry about that.
It’s already taken care of.” Happy reached out with one hand, pulled a bag from next to the driver’s seat, and tossed it back to Peter.
Peter caught the bag and opened it up, finding that his passport really was inside.
He had never even sent Iron Man a photo or anything…
Well, he shouldn’t be asking silly questions like that.
It was Iron Man, after all; that level of efficiency was hardly surprising.
Even so, it gave Peter a distinct sensation of being swept along against his will.
It felt odd.
A bit uncomfortable, really.
Because he didn’t particularly care for that feeling—especially the feeling of being swept along by a capitalist.
Then again, perhaps he was just being overly petty.
After all, the man had saved him a great deal of hassle…
The car soon pulled up at the airport, where Peter caught sight of a private jet.
He had seen this aircraft on social media before; rumored to cost hundreds of millions, it was Tony Stark’s personal private plane.
It made total sense.
Even with access to so many suits of armor, no one would enjoy flying around in iron suits all day long.
More often than not, Iron Man would appear dressed in normal attire, just as Peter had seen him that morning.
Once the car came to a stop, Peter watched Happy pull a silver suitcase from the trunk.
Without saying a word to him, Happy set off toward the private jet on his own.
Though he didn’t say it out loud, Happy harbored a slight bias against Peter.
After all, Peter looked like nothing more than a teenage kid—and by age, that was precisely what he was.
While judging a book by its cover wasn’t entirely fair, Happy genuinely believed Peter wouldn’t be of much help to Tony.
Peter didn’t mind.
Shouldering his backpack, he quickened his stride to keep pace with Happy.
Once aboard, the jet’s lavish interior opened Peter’s eyes to a whole new world.
The aircraft didn’t even have a pilot; it was a smart jet fully capable of autonomous flight.
Naturally—aside from his suits of armor, Tony Stark was most famous for his artificial intelligence.
Making an airplane fly itself was a walk in the park!
The only flaw in the diamond was the absence of beautiful flight attendants.
Didn’t everyone say private jets came equipped with gorgeous flight attendants?
Why didn’t this one have any?
Peter was thoroughly disappointed.
With the natural temperament of a teenager, Peter turned into a curious kid the moment he stepped onto the plane, touching this and inspecting that.
Happy, having stowed the silver suitcase, picked a seat for himself and sat down.
Seeing this, Peter monkey-see-monkey-doed and sat down right across from him.
Happy, who had just closed his eyes, opened them once more: “You’re sitting here?” “Uh, is that not okay?” Peter asked, puzzled.
“Is this your first time on a private jet?” “It’s my first time on a plane, period!” Happy: …
‘Even if it’s your first time flying, can’t you see all these open seats?
Do you really have to sit right in front of me?’ Thoroughly exasperated by Peter’s chatter, Happy abruptly rose and practically fled to the seats further back to sit down.
“If you’re really that bored, go take a look at that suitcase.” “The suitcase?” Peter located the silver suitcase Happy had placed in the overhead bin.
“Can I open it?” “Yeah, yeah, yeah…
that’s your stuff, do whatever you want with it.
Though I’d suggest you wait until the flight stabilizes before taking a proper look.
We’ve got a six-hour trip ahead of us, you’ve got plenty of time,” Happy called back.
“Oh, alright,” Peter snapped the latch on the overhead rack back into place and sat down obediently.
*ROAR!* The aircraft lifted into the sky amidst a deafening roar.
Flying for the very first time—coupled with sensory perceptions dozens of times more acute than an ordinary person’s—Peter turned deathly pale from sheer fright.
This sensation reminded him of earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis, an enraged Aunt May…
cross out that last one.
In short, it was terrifying beyond belief.
It wasn’t until a good while later, when the jet entered the stratosphere and stopped constantly shaking, that Peter’s senses gradually settled back down.
“Phew…
flying is terrifying~” Peter was still nursing lingering fears; the experience took him back to when he had first acquired his powers.
He remembered waking up one morning to find his senses altered in the strangest way: lying in his bedroom, he could hear the footsteps of someone jogging down the street outside, the faint buzz of a mosquito flapping its wings on the roof, the rushing sound of water flowing through the pipes…
His sensory world had expanded into something impossibly complex and vivid in a single instant.
The sheer volume of information hitting his brain at that moment had nearly caused him to collapse!
He had hastily ducked under the covers, closed his eyes, and taken a long, long time to recover.
It was the very reason he had ended up late for school that day.
*Phew—* Exhaling a long breath of stale air, Peter stood up and retrieved the silver case from the overhead compartment.
With a gentle press, the case popped open.
Immediately after, a striking red-and-blue suit presented itself before Peter’s eyes.
Constructed primarily from an unknown nano-composite material, this red-and-blue spider suit boasted a refined texture, exquisite craftsmanship, and a remarkably sleek design.
Forget Peter’s own pajamas—even the Noir Spider-Suit he had considered so impressive earlier paled significantly in comparison to this outfit.
“This…
this is really for me?” Peter could hardly believe his eyes.
“Yeah, it’s for you.
Restroom’s in the back—if you want to try it on, go back there,” Happy said crossly.
“Now, could you keep it down and let me get some sleep?
I haven’t closed my eyes in nearly sixteen hours.” “Oh, sure thing, Mr.
Happy.” Peter lifted the red-and-blue spider suit out of the suitcase and tiptoed past Happy, slipping into the restroom at the rear.
The suit was far easier to put on than he had imagined.
He simply had to step into it and press the spider emblem on the chest, and it instantly contracted to fit snugly against his body.
Peter tested out a few movements on the spot, finding the mobility extraordinarily smooth.
He discovered that the suit didn’t restrict his actions in the slightest; on the contrary, it actually provided a noticeable positive boost to his movements.
This was simply fantastic!
Over the next few hours as the plane sped toward Berlin, Peter remained clad in the suit, leaping and scrambling all over the cabin.
Fortunately, keeping Happy’s instructions in mind, his movements—despite their large scale—were astonishingly quiet, somehow managing not to wake Happy up at all!
And just like that, the jet finally arrived in Berlin.