Typing felt too slow. Yang Luoluo just called.

It took a while before anyone picked up, and she figured they had probably made up some excuse to slip away from Peter Parker.

"Hello..."

Harry's voice came through hushed and small. In the background, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were still chattering away with Peter Parker about the Wizarding World, and Draco Malfoy was noticeably chattier than usual, chiming in every so often.

It said a lot about how hard all four of them were working to keep the secret group chat hidden from Peter Parker.

Hearing Harry's voice, Yang Luoluo automatically dropped her own, cupping a hand over the receiver.

"So you guys pulled me into the group chat because you wanted to ask if I had any suggestions?"

The conspiratorial act earned her a sideways look from Loki.

"Yeah." Harry answered, sounding troubled.

Making big promises about helping Peter Parker had been easy. Actually coming up with a plan was another matter entirely. The four of them couldn't scrape together a single idea between them.

Were they seriously going to throw a bag over Flash Thompson's head?

One imagined scenario: the plan gets exposed, all four get hauled off to jail, and the Potters, the Weasleys, and the Grangers have to fly all the way from Britain just to bail them out. Worst case, they get deported back to Britain altogether. Harry shuddered.

Yeah, maybe not.

Yang Luoluo thought for a moment and murmured a few words into the phone, too absorbed to notice Loki's expression shifting through a series of changes beside her.

"...Do you really think that'll work?" Harry sounded uncertain.

"I'm not sure either." Yang Luoluo's expression turned a little troubled. "But since Peter Parker specifically said not to let Tony Stark and the others find out, this is the only option worth trying."

Harry hesitated, then agreed. "All right. I'll fill Ron Weasley and the others in after."

"Okay. When you're back from school, we'll sit down and go through the details properly."

"Sounds good."

The call ended.

Yang Luoluo planted her toes against the floor and pushed off, letting the chair wheels roll her right over to the bed. She flopped down face-first and sprawled out flat, and the mattress was so soft it almost pulled a satisfied groan out of her on the spot.

Loki sat on the bay window ledge, glanced over once, and went back to the tablet. When he spoke, his voice was light and offhand, but it carried a sourness he hadn't noticed himself.

"What, Peter Parker's that important to you?"

Sunlight filtered through the glass and fell warm across her face. Yang Luoluo lay there half-melting into the mattress, already feeling like she could fall asleep any second.

"Mm-hmm." A lazy hum was all she offered in reply.

Loki was not satisfied with that. He set the tablet down on the ledge, crossed the room in a few strides, crossed his arms, and stood over the bed looking down at Yang Luoluo, who was very convincingly playing dead.

"What did you just say?"

Playing dead was clearly not going to work. Yang Luoluo gave up, flipped over, and pushed herself upright in one motion. She reached out and tugged the hem of Loki's shirt, and the moment he looked down at her, she hit him with her most dazzling smile.

"Come on, we're all friends here. And you like Peter Parker well enough too, don't you? Of course we have to help. We can't just sit back and let Peter Parker keep getting pushed around, can we?"

She tugged at his shirt again. Loki sat down, and when his girlfriend pulled him into a quick hug, the hard line of his expression visibly softened, though his words stayed plenty stubborn.

"Please. I have no interest in some chattering little Midgard hatchling. Utterly useless, letting this go on for so long!"

"Hmph. If it were me, I would have cursed the lot of them hundreds of times over by now!"

Yang Luoluo hadn't moved away to make the call, so Loki had heard every word of it. The more he talked, the angrier he got, looking two seconds away from storming over to Peter Parker's school personally to sort out whoever had been doing the bullying.

Loki's day-to-day attitude toward Peter Parker wasn't exactly warm, but it was still noticeably better than how he treated most of the other Avengers. Probably because every single time Peter Parker watched Loki use sorcery, those eyes went wide with pure admiration, no suspicion, no wariness, no treating Loki like a villain with a very long track record. Loki found that deeply satisfying.

Watching the fury kindle in those green eyes, Yang Luoluo quickly reached up and patted his chest to calm him down. Internally, though, she was already rolling her eyes.

Midgard hatchling. By Loki's actual age, practically every human on Earth would qualify as a hatchling in his eyes, and yet, when you converted his years, he himself was barely out of the underage range, still deep in some cosmic rebellious-teenager phase.

Wait.

Did that mean she looked like a hatchling to him too?

Oh, damn it. No wonder Loki sometimes looked at her with that inexplicable, faintly weird quality she could never quite pin down.

Complaints noted. Comforting words still required.

"Okay, okay, don't be angry. If you really can't stand it, just come with us when we go set things right for Peter Parker. Flash Thompson is absolutely getting a lesson this time."

Yang Luoluo clenched a fist.

Loki nodded along automatically, and then caught himself immediately, remembering he had just been performing total indifference to Peter Parker's entire existence. To protect the image, he cleared his throat.

"Ahem. Given that you have so sincerely begged for my help on that kid's behalf, I suppose I'll agree."

Yang Luoluo:?

When, exactly, had she sincerely begged Loki for anything?

...

The moment school let out, Peter Parker headed home to Aunt May's place. Harry and the others made their way back to the compound and quietly gathered in the kitchen. Yang Luoluo showed up not long after.

She walked in to find them absolutely demolishing the pile of snacks on the table.

"What happened to you all... Did the cafeteria forget to feed you?"

"Ugh, don't even ask." Ron Weasley had a sandwich clenched in each hand and another one stuffed in the side of the mouth, words coming out thoroughly muffled.

"Monthly exams today. The questions were brutal. I nearly starved to death just sitting through it."

"..." Yang Luoluo looked over at Hermione Granger. Not quite as chaotic as Ron Weasley, but food was still vanishing with remarkable elegance and speed. Feeling the look, Hermione Granger went a little red.

"It really was a hard exam. I guessed on so many questions. Honestly..."

Hermione Granger's expression was deeply pained.

Yang Luoluo nodded. She got it.

These wizards had barely spent any real time in class since transferring to Midtown High School. A handful of days in before they had to take leave for the battlefield. Then school suspended altogether due to the chaos from the Blip survivors coming back. Now, barely a few weeks into the new term, monthly exams had already arrived.

On top of that, only Harry and Hermione Granger had ever received any Muggle schooling at all, and even that had stopped at age eleven. That they hadn't completely bombed the thing was the real surprise.

"Let's not talk about it. It's too depressing."

Harry looked thoroughly bleak. Given the choice, going another round against Lord Voldemort was starting to sound more appealing than monthly exams.

"So, the plan is basically: we find a way to let Flash Thompson see the Avengers and Peter Parker actually getting along?"

Harry asked, completely unaware of the ring of yogurt sitting around the mouth. Hermione Granger, unable to watch any longer, wordlessly tossed over a stack of napkins. Harry went red and scrubbed it off hastily.

Yang Luoluo swallowed a laugh and nodded.

"Flash Thompson has been calling Peter Parker's Stark Industries internship a fake this whole time, even refusing to believe the actual certificate. So the only way left is to let Flash Thompson see it directly — as an intern, running into the Avengers regularly and being on good terms with them is pretty normal, right?"

"I think it works."

Ron Weasley agreed, then sighed immediately after.

"If only Peter Parker didn't care so much about keeping Tony Stark and everyone out of it, honestly, the simplest fix would be him stepping in personally. That would shut Flash Thompson down for good."

"There's nothing to be done about that." Harry sighed too. "Honestly, I can tell — if Flash Thompson hadn't done it right in front of us, Peter Parker would have buried this forever without saying a word."

Draco Malfoy looked equally worn out. "I didn't expect the teachers to side with Flash Thompson either. So much for going to them about it."

All five of them at the table sighed at the same time.

"All right. That's settled, then. I'll go ask Wanda Maximoff and Pietro Maximoff if they're willing to help."

Yang Luoluo spent another quiet moment worrying for Peter Parker, then stood up to go. She had barely taken two steps when she stopped and turned back around.

"Remember — keep this locked down tight. Do not let Tony Stark and the others find out, no matter what. Otherwise the whole compound will know Peter Parker is getting bullied by the next morning."

Harry and the others nodded with great solemnity, then grabbed several bags of snacks off the table and fell into step right behind her.

"Wait for us — we're coming too!"

➤ Next: Endgame Memorial Museum

Chapter 148 - Endgame Memorial Museum

The kitchen fell silent.

A moment later, a figure slipped out from the gap between the kitchen island and the cooking range.

Tony was sitting on the floor, dark circles under both eyes, holding a plate of waffles, staring toward the kitchen doorway with a look of pure bewilderment.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., do I look like someone who spreads rumors?"

"..." J.A.R.V.I.S. said nothing.

Tony took a bite of waffle and turned the question over quietly.

The original plan had been simple: pull an all-nighter, nearly pass out from hunger, come downstairs to find something to eat. Then, without thinking, swipe a plate of waffles sitting on the table, judging by the syrup drowning every square inch, it was almost certainly Vision's work, since Vision never could figure out portion sizes.

And then, in the very next second, the sound of a stampede came thundering this way.

Terrified it was Steve, that insufferable mother hen, coming to lecture about staying up all night again, Tony crouched down fast, guilt written all over the face, and ducked behind the island.

Lucky thing the snack cabinet and dining table were both near the door. Harry and the others grabbed their snacks and sat right down, no reason to venture further in, no chance of finding Tony hiding back there.

What Tony did not expect was to sit there and overhear the entire conversation that followed.

Working from everything just overheard, the conclusion was staggering: the underage superhero Tony had personally recruited, Spider-Man, New York's lively, lovable friendly neighborhood hero, the great savior of the world, was being bullied at school by some guy named Flash Thompson?

And had been for a while?

Tony's face darkened. The fingers holding the plate had gone pale at the tips.

Daring to bully Peter right under Tony's nose, how many lives did that guy think he had?

Fuming, Tony finished off the rest of the waffles in a few angry bites, slapped both hands clean, and gave the order.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., connect to the chip in Peter's suit. Pull up the recent video and audio recordings."

Both Tony and Peter wore specially made nanotech suits, normally stored in chest-mounted chips and capable of deploying across the entire body in under a second whenever needed.

The suit was almost an extension of the person who wore it. Combined with its built-in recording functions, Peter's every move had been documented, Tony had simply chosen not to look, out of respect for privacy.

Right now, there was no choice.

A translucent light screen unfolded in the air. Everything from the past stretch of time flashed rapidly past,

Flash Thompson shoving Peter hard. Flash Thompson calling Peter a "wimp." Flash Thompson loudly mocking Peter's so-called "Stark Industries internship" in front of the whole class. Peter getting deliberately tripped in the hallway after class. The warning glare Flash Thompson threw across the room when Peter answered a question correctly.

"That's enough. Cut it off."

Tony stood up and slammed the plate down on the counter. A storm was building behind both eyes. Tony paced back and forth, furious, and only stopped after a long moment, letting out a sharp laugh, cold with rage.

"Flash Thompson, huh."

The name rolled off Tony's tongue like something being chewed up and spat out. Tony's lips curled into a sneer. That kid wanted to play bully? Tony was going to give Flash Thompson a memory that would last a lifetime.

J.A.R.V.I.S. hesitated, then decided to speak.

"Sir, murder is against the law."

"..."

Tony went dead silent. The words landed like a slap, and now Tony was even angrier, both palms coming down on the island counter with a sharp crack.

"When did I say anything about killing him!"

"...My apologies, sir."

J.A.R.V.I.S. offered the apology without argument. To be fair, the assessment had been based on a full read of Tony's expression, movements, heart rate, and adrenaline levels, and the conclusion reached had been: Tony was about to fly out and commit murder in the next five seconds.

Apparently, the assessment had not been accurate enough.

J.A.R.V.I.S. filed the error away with some private distress and quietly went off to run an upgrade.

Tony rubbed the hand that now hurt from hitting the counter, furious, in pain, and utterly stifled. Flying straight to Midtown High School and beating Flash Thompson senseless was not an option. Peter would find out. Peter would be furious.

The reminder came easily enough: back then, Peter had hacked a suit worth several million dollars just because Tony had quietly installed a tracking device inside it. If Peter ever found out Tony had gone through the suit's recordings without permission, there was no telling what Peter might do to it this time.

Tony stood there scowling for a long time and could not come up with a single workable plan.

"Boss, Gamora and Nebula sent a message. They say construction of the Endgame Memorial Museum is nearly finished. When can the two of them be sent back?"

F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s cool voice cut through the silence. J.A.R.V.I.S. had gone to upgrade; F.R.I.D.A.Y. had been drafted in to cover right before the handoff.

The words hit like a spark.

Tony's hands came together in a sharp clap.

That's it.

"Tell them both: once the museum is open, they work there for three months. After that, everything that happened before is wiped clean."

F.R.I.D.A.Y. spared a brief, genuine moment of sympathy for the sisters Gamora and Nebula from the other universe.

Just a moment, though. Then F.R.I.D.A.Y. dutifully went off to relay the message.

There was no helping it. Thanos had leveled Tony's newly built compound, and the culprit had turned to dust and blown away on the wind before anyone could do anything about it. The sisters were the only ones left to settle the debt.

...

Evening.

"Ahem."

Tony wiped the mouth and gave a deliberate cough, pulling the attention of everyone at the table, and incidentally cutting off the younger ones, who had been sneaking glances at each other since the moment they sat down.

Clint had gone home to reunite with the family. With the table's best conversational relay missing, Steve picked up the responsibility.

"What is it, Tony?"

The cutlery went down. The question came patiently.

Tony's mouth curved with satisfaction, waiting until everyone's curiosity was visibly snagged before speaking.

"Actually... I've been keeping something from all of you."

CLATTER!

Under everyone's eyes, Bruce Banner fumbled to retrieve the fork that had bounced off the plate, swallowing hard, expression full of dread.

"Please tell me you didn't build another Ultron."

Just think about what Ultron had done, Ultron, who was originally built to protect the Earth. Destroying J.A.R.V.I.S.'s consciousness, attempting to wipe out all of humanity, and ultimately reducing Sokovia to rubble.

Steve's face had gone as grim as if the sky were falling. A hand was already moving toward the shield.

"Of course not! That was a complete accident and you know it!"

Tony protested loudly. The skepticism was unanimous; a couple of the faster ones were already on their feet reaching for weapons. Tony let out a cold scoff and had J.A.R.V.I.S. — freshly back from the upgrade, cast a light screen open in front of the room.

"Is that... the battlefield?"

Natasha studied it carefully for quite a while before placing the scene. And it wasn't poor eyesight, the image on the screen simply looked almost nothing like the island from Endgame.

The post-battle island had been a wasteland. Smoke and ash, broken walls, rubble everywhere, blood soaking the ground. Bleak in every direction.

But the screen showed something else. The wreckage was still there, yes, but rising straight out of the center of the battlefield stood a building, entirely white, stark against the ruin around it. J.A.R.V.I.S. zoomed in, and then Natasha could read it clearly,

Written across the front of the building, plain as anything: "Endgame Memorial Museum."

Natasha: "..."

Natasha: "?"

It took a long moment to find words. "So you... built an Endgame Memorial Museum. Without telling any of us."

Tony nodded, visibly delighted.

"Isn't it perfect? The government was going to put one up eventually anyway — why let them do it when I can fund it myself? The site was already right there."

Whether it turned a profit was beside the point. The main thing was that after the whole Mysterio situation, Tony had developed a very deep appreciation for the value of a good reputation.

Natasha stared at the screen, speechless, and when the ruins came back into frame, just sitting there encircled by a chain-link fence as a ready-made tourist attraction, the speechlessness hit its ceiling.

Natasha was now firmly convinced Tony had already been hatching this plan the moment the island was purchased.

"What — you're not happy?"

Tony had been buzzing with excitement for a full minute before noticing the expressions around the table. Surprise. Shock. Confusion. Every variety was represented. Happiness was not among them.

"I was even planning to fund a statue for each of you..." Tony sighed, and the entire posture deflated into open disappointment.

The words were barely out before a voice rang across the table.

"A statue? I think this Endgame Memorial Museum is an absolutely wonderful idea!"

Yang Luoluo looked sideways at Loki, helpless. The word "statue" had visibly electrified him. Both eyes lit up as Loki practically lunged over to Tony's side of the table.

"Is there one for me? Because if not, I'm fully prepared to fund my own."

Tony had spent the last few minutes without a single ally. Even if it was Loki, with whom Tony could never quite manage to get along, a supporter was a supporter, the mood lifted instantly. The two of them put their heads together in conspiratorial murmurs.

"Of course there's one for you. You were the one who snapped your fingers at the end, after all. And if you want to commission a second one on top of that, I'm not going to stop you — just as long as it's not sixty meters tall and solid gold..."

The rest of the table exchanged glances.

And sighed, all at once.

➤ Next: Visiting the Memorial Museum (1)