Spider-Son & Iron Dad two shots

The Baby Monitor Protocol

Okay.

May Parker's day so far had consisted of splitting a lip, internal bleeding, and best for last: a new baddie breaking into an old Stark building and stealing some tech while she had been on patrol.

Obviously, this simply wouldn't do. Her dad may not know she's taken on some sort of vigilante mantle, and he was not going to find out just because this failure of hers got on the news. Her dad is busy— her mom too, really. They're all doting on her two year old baby brother back at home.

They probably thought she was at Gene's right now, May thought in quick passing, as she swung past a dark Harlem alleyway and landed on the street.

"Hey!" Mayday yelped, skidding her feet across the pavement. "I'm like, a hundred percent sure that doesn't belong to you, buddy! Just hand it over, and—"

The man growled and lunged backwards, trying to make a run with the ANCIENT Stark tech he had tucked under his arm. Some kind of fancy watch or something. Either way, May wasn't having it— she shot a web out and yanked the tech towards her.

Somewhere in this unfortunate series of events, the device being thrown into her hands with all the combined velocity of super strength and tensile strength webbing, a button clicked against her wrist. May suddenly shrunk into her own skin and was being tossed around a gazillion swirling colours, like the world's most epilepsy-inducing funnel slide.

Mayday gasped, twisting around in pain as she tumbled through the tube, and then in the blink of an eye she slammed into hard linoleum ground.

She groaned weakly and fell to her side.

There's a clattering. "Kid, where'd you come from?"

That was her nickname alright, Dad used it all the time ever since she was born, but that was not her Dad's voice. If she tried to cover her ears, maybe lessen the impact of her enhanced hearing, it might just even sound like—

"I didn't even get a notice that you went on Patrol.. If you hacked my suit again, I swear to—" a pause, met with a chair on wheels being shoved backwards. "Shit, are you hurt again? Damn it."

Mayday, hunched over on the floor of the medbay, finally stood up. She uncurled herself, hissing softly through gritted teeth from the pain of what felt like at least eighty broken ribs. Maybe ninety. How many ribs were there again? She'll look it up later.

"Are you talking to me?" May finally gasped out. She clenched her fists, ready for a fight. "I dunno— who— who you are, or what you drugged me with, but—"

She blinked. Pa stood a few feet away from her, his eyes narrowed tightly with confusion and a thinly strained concern knitted in his eyebrows. He looked different. Really different. Like, less old. (No offense, Pa.)

"Uh," May sat up slowly, holding a hand pressed against her wet bloody side.

"Okay," Tony said carefully, huffing with an almost unhinged amusement. "You're not... Who are you?"

"What year is it?" Mayday blurted out. It was the most fitting question she could think to utter, other than maybe 'do you have a bandaid?' or possibly, 'do you have a Capri-sun? I know they're vintage, but...'

Tony opened his mouth. Closed it.

"Oh, God." Mayday stood up shakily, leaned against a desk that was covered in half-finished Chemistry homework, and like, a backpack, and bits of old robot parts, for some reason. Blood from her glove soaked through and left a print on the paper. "I can't tell you anything! It's gonna mess stuff up. Like uh, like the Butterfly Effect."