"I met that kid you mentioned. My god, he's unbelievably green. I have no idea where a high schooler like him gets the nerve to wander the streets of New York at night."
"Spider-Man? Hmph."
"I'll admit those little gadgets he cobbled together are somewhat interesting, but only to that extent. Someone like him roaming Hell's Kitchen will run into people like you sooner or later and get stripped of everything... And also..."
"Enough."
Lance pinched the bridge of his nose and cut Stark off. Even after he had tossed his phone across the room, Stark's voice still streamed out. He had no idea where the man found this much energy.
"You just left Hell's Kitchen and couldn't wait to call me, just to share your encounter with a high schooler?"
Lance exhaled. "I shouldn't have to remind the great Mr. Tony Stark that late-night interruptions count as business consultations. I charge for this kind of work."
"Go ahead and charge," Stark said lightly. "Just send the bill to Pepper."
"Sometimes I genuinely worry about Miss Pepper. With a boss like you, is her mental state still intact? Should I talk to her.."
"Hey! We're talking about Spider-Man, not Pepper!" Stark snapped, clearly displeased. "And for your information, Pepper is doing just fine."
"Let me remind you," Lance said, "you're the one who's been dumping everything about Spider-Man on me without pause. What exactly is going on with you? You sound like a teenager with his first crush. What is it? Do you like that kid that much?"
"Like him? No! No! No!" Stark shot back immediately. "At most, I just think he's… interesting."
"Ah…" Lance drew the sound out, thoughtful. "I've said it before. Being stubborn doesn't make you more charming. It's obvious you appreciate the kid."
"Maybe..."
On the other end, Stark ran a hand through his hair, irritated. "But I'm not in a great state today. I'm in a bad mood, so I might not have been very polite. If I want to keep communicating with him, what should I do?"
"Tony Stark," Lance said with a sigh.
"Yeah?"
"I need you to understand that I'm your lawyer, not your psychiatrist. You don't need to confide in me about your questionable interest in teenage boys, and you certainly don't need me to draft a strategy for it."
"I'll pay extra," Stark said flatly.
Lance sat up.
He did not even need to ask for a number. Whatever Stark offered would be enough to satisfy him.
Now this was more like it.
He should have led with that.
Lance immediately returned the favor with a piece of information. "If I'm not mistaken, he'll be coming back to Hell's Kitchen in a few days."
"Hell's Kitchen?" Stark paused, caught off guard, then pressed, "Why? Based on my intel, he shouldn't be going back anytime soon. Hasn't he already stopped fighting underground matches at the boxing ring? Why would he return?"
"Maybe he just wants to see a certain bad guy who could strip him alive the moment he runs into him on the street."
"To see you?!" Stark's voice shot up several octaves. A loud clatter came from the other end, and he sounded genuinely stunned.
"To see you? Why would he see you? You've already met that kid. Damn it, why am I always one step behind you!"
"It's not just me he wants to see," Lance said calmly. "He might also want to meet his savior. Since you were so generous with that extra payment, consider this a bonus tip."
"That little Spider has a very good impression of his savior. At the very least, it's far better than his impression of someone like you, whose favorability is already in the negatives."
"Negatives?" Stark shot back, incredulous. "No one in this world rejects Tony Stark!"
"Is that so?" Lance leaned back, unconcerned. "Is it that no one rejects Stark, or that no one rejects Stark's money? Those are two very different things."
"They're the same thing," Stark insisted stubbornly.
"Really?" Lance pressed. "So you don't care whether Miss Pepper stays at Stark Industries for your money or for you?"
Stark went quiet.
After a long pause, he finally spoke. "Anyway, I'm going to find that little Spider and have another talk. While I'm at it, I'll see exactly who saved that reckless high schooler."
"Need intel? You know, it'll..."
"Cost extra!"
Stark cut him off, finishing the line at the same time.
"But not this time. I'll have JARVIS look into it," he added.
"Fine. The customer is king." Lance shrugged and hung up.
A clash between Daredevil and Iron Man.
That would be worth watching.
Still, none of it concerned Lance for now. He planned to stay in Hell's Kitchen for one more day before returning to Gotham.
After all, he had been away from Gotham for quite some time. Even though time in the DC world was frozen, it felt no different from leaving a pet at home during a long business trip. Lance could not help worrying about the frozen Waylana Jones.
There was no helping it. Once you grow attached to a pet, you start wondering whether it has eaten properly, whether it has been treated well, whether it has been bullied.
That was exactly the state Lance was in now.
"One more day," Lance murmured to himself.
As long as he confirmed there was nothing interesting left in Marvel, he would head straight back to Gotham.
Tempting fate like this was never a good idea.
The next morning, at his law firm, Lance ran into the kind of person he least wanted to deal with in the short term.
An agent.
Not the usual kind like Phil Coulson. On second thought, Coulson was far from ordinary, but compared to the woman standing before him, anyone would seem unremarkable.
Natasha Romanoff.
Lance raised an eyebrow. He set down two cups of cheap instant coffee, one in front of her and one for himself, then took his seat behind the desk.
"Have a seat, Miss Natasha. What brings a lady as beautiful as you to my office? A commission, perhaps?" he said.
Natasha handled his sarcasm with practiced ease.
She took a sip of the oddly flavored instant coffee without the slightest change in expression, then spoke calmly.
"Mr. Prescott, since you've already recognized me, I won't waste time on pleasantries."
"We at S.H.I.E.L.D. have a commission we'd like to entrust to you."
"Oh?" Lance was mildly surprised. He had not expected S.H.I.E.L.D. to change tactics so quickly after failing to monitor him, though it made sense on reflection.
"A commission concerning whom?" he asked.
Natasha drew a quiet breath.
"Perhaps you've heard of... Captain America?"
___
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