Here it is! The sequel you've all been waiting for! I give you Labrat: Adjusting! (Labrat is ch 9 if you want to re-read that first).

The Next Day

No one knows quite what to do with the kid. His next of kin are an aunt and uncle, May and Ben Parker, who live in Manhattan, but of course he isn't ready for a normal life. He doesn't even know what normal is, much less how to act it. We have facilities on the helicarrier, but those are more barracks style- we don't have the space to clear one out for his personal use and besides, he doesn't trust us and we don't trust him enough to ask him to share a room. By the end of the morning we've cleared out a closet on the barracks level and inserted a desk, a light and a trunk – more belongings than he can remember having in his life by his admission.

We begin to install a bunk as well, but he says he prefers a hammock. Now I don't know what he thinks of when he thinks of a hammock, but what he creates looks like nothing less than a giant web. Thin strands of silk crisscross the upper half of the room congregating in a tightly woven bundle near the ceiling with just enough room for Parker to curl up in. Fury decides not to fight that battle. If sleeping in a web will make him feel safe then the kid is welcome to it. We can work on getting him in a bed later, if he ever reaches the point of re-entering society.

The idea of the spider-kid sleeping in a web is reasonable; watching him make it is disturbing. First he opens his mouth, extends sharp, nearly translucent canines, and nicks the skin right above his wrist arteries. Once my attention is drawn to them I can easily pick out dozens of similar small white scars pocket-marking the entire area of his lower forearms in a surgical pattern. He waits a minute until the blood starts to clot and then picks at the forming scabs until they came away in his fingers, still attached to the cuts by fine, glistening lines. Spidersilk. Somehow he uses the tips of his fingers like spinnerets, drawing the stuff out and running it from wall to wall to wall, until I wonder if I should stop him. Surely he's hurting himself, pulling that much material out of his body at once. But when he drops to the ground again – "hammock" complete – he seems no worse for wear and the cuts on his wrists are already healing over.

When he notices where I am looking – the kid seems to notice everything – he rubs his arms subconsciously and glibly explains, "Doc Oc's plan was to embed spinnerets into my forearms to spin the stuff more efficiently but he hadn't got the organs scaled up and human compatible before- you know- So, Anyways! The glands are subdermal to allow room for those non-existent spinnerets. I have different glands to produce different types of silk-" Here he bit himself again, nicking the skin in several places, "See? These glands produce more crystalline fibers that are stronger but not as stretchy and these glands produce more wool like fibers that are really stretchy but can't hold as much actual weight, and these glands produce silk that's super sticky- See how it's just kind of balling up on it's own? I can't weave it because it basically never fully solidifies, but it's great for catching things or stopping things up. Doc Oc once spent a day stuffing globs of it into the muzzles of various weapons and most of them just blew up when fired. That was a fun day. I hardly had to do anything. Also this kind is a good salve and clotting agent for injuries, if you don't mind getting all sticky. There are a few other kinds of silk, various ratios of stretchy and rigid, sticky and smooth, strong and weak- Doc Oc liked using me as a guinea pig if you hadn't noticed. I've got this idea for a sticky lead and a stretchy cord with a stronger core that I've been wanting to try- combining them all see? – to create my own draglines but-"

He continues chattering likeso the entire way from his room to the training rooms. You'd think that as an agent of SHIELD in the twenty-first century I would be more acclimatized to stories like his as every power hungry wannabe and ethics loose scientist tries to create their own superhuman, but something about the offhand way he describes his life as a living experiment breaks my heart.

Lunch is mashed potatoes, soggy peas and seriously overcooked beef. The kid is fascinated by food that doesn't come in a sterilized protein shake. I try to guide him in how to use silverware and give up when he snaps at me for touching his food and then looks up fear-stricken as if afraid I'll punish him. I let it go and he uses his fingers to scoop the food into his mouth as quickly as anyone might if accustomed to their food being taken away on a whim. I finish my own food snappily as well and then show him where to leave our trays.

He doesn't ask but I can tell he's dying to know what's going to happen to him next so I explain what the combat room is and why we want to test the full extent of his abilities. He nods like it's no big deal, but his gait becomes more skittery and he lags behind the pace I set. When we reach the combat room I notice with relief that Fury has requested Iron Fist's presence. Hopefully he can sooth the kid's jangling nerves.

-0-

"Greetings Spider."

Iron Fist bows to the newest teen resident and smiles reassuringly. "I am to guide you through the exercises meant to test your power and range. Are you ready to begin?"

The new kid rocks from foot to foot and sidles sideways to put the wall behind him. Iron Fist makes note that Parker is uncomfortable with leaving his back exposed and nods farewell to Agent Colson as the doors close.

"Come Spider. First is target practice."

"Call me Parker please? Or Peter? Spider is what Doc Oc called me-" here the teen flips over to land next to Danny and shakes his head violently, "-and I'm not his anymore."

"Of course Peter. My apologies. During training we typically refer to ourselves by code names so that, during battle, we do not reveal our true identities."

"Oh. What do you want me to do?"

Danny picks up the first weapon, a beebe gun for starters, and begins showing him how to load, aim, and fire. Silently, he also accesses his powers and emits and aura of safety. By the time he hands off the beebe, Parker is already noticeably more at ease and isn't shaking or starting at every new motion or sound.

He turns out to be clueless but a quick learner with weaponry once Iron Fist explains how each model works. Even taking his newness to them into account the teen has a remarkable eye for marksmanship. When the targets start shooting back Danny and SHIELD receive their first surprise. Parker takes out one drone from the ground. Next he dodges with a series flips and dives until he has a clear moment in the pattern and leaps up to cling to the vertical surface of the wall itself. Iron Fist notices that his hands are bare and he'd kicked off his shoes at some point during the exchange. The drones don't expect this kind of attack pattern and quickly fall to Parker's carefully lined up shots in between flipping from wall to wall. At one point he hangs from the ceiling, looking for all the world as comfortable as if standing on the floor to shoot down at a cluster of confused drones.

"How do you do that?"

Parker drops down beside him and holds out his hand. Danny traces the minuscule and numerous folds covering every inch of Parker's palm. On each ridge tiny hairs add to the surface area and help hide the unusual feature.

Danny nods his thanks and moves on to the next station. Basically a giant sound system it tests the limits of Parker's hearing both in volume and frequency. When he complains that the stereo itself is making its own sound that's hard to distinguish from the sounds he's supposed to be listening too Iron Fist notes that too, and then quickly turns off the sound as the frequency notches up again and Parker claps his hands to his ears in pain.

"Are you all right?"

Parker winces, rubs his temples and nods. "Yeah, just not my favorite test. What is next?"

He gives Captain America a run for his money in the strength tests, puts in a decent show in the speed trials, and shows enhancements to all of his senses, but it's when the agility course is set up that Parker shows his true talents. No matter what is asked of him or thrown at him, his body bends and twists to accommodate. Danny's mind is blown when, after the highest level is completed, Parker drops to the floor and asks innocently, "Is the warm-up sequence over?" Iron Fist nods mutely and fires up his powers. Let us see if you can dodge psychic attacks as well as you do physical ones.

-0-

Peter revels in the free motion of his body. He closes his eyes and listens to the air around him outlining the dimensions and movement of everything nearby. Iron Fist is a stronger presence down below, subtly different than the motors of the machinery surrounding them and somehow more alive than most humans. Several more life sources are discernable within a module near the ceiling. It probably contains the control center and whichever SHEILD personal are watching his performance. With a sinuous twist he avoids a series of moving poles sticking out from the wall and delivers a cheeky salute towards the hidden viewers. A disk approaches him from behind. He jumps aboard and rides it into the heart of the movement. Obstacles collide, swivel and twist, raise and lower, swoop and soar. Within the motion, Peter is a thread of life, mind and body, that reads the patterns and rests within them. He is perfectly safe; the program always provides a way out, unlike the Doc's, which were designed to contain and kill.

At last the obstacles recede into the walls and he lands next to the movement named Danny Iron Fist. "Is the warm up sequence over?" He wonders what level of deadliness the next sequence will be. SHEILD does not want him dead of course, but then neither had Doc Oc: not completely anyways, only mostly dead.

Iron Fist faces him and stills. Then the world lights up with energy spiraling in around them to concentrate within the other's fist. Iron Fist. Got it. Peter crouches and waits for the attack, but Iron Fist remains still and centered. Then something reaches towards him from behind and above. He dives out of the way and it follows him while Iron Fist does nothing to engage. He flips over the invisible threat planning for it to run into the wall behind him, only for it to run through the wall instead and disappear. Peter stills and opens up his senses. Where will the next attack come from? Two trails of energy disturb the air molecules to the right and left. He waits until they are nearly upon him then leaps upward. They collide and ricochet after him, catching him in a web against the ceiling that despite being some type of energy feels as solid to touch as if he were held in place by a padded harness.

Only then does Iron Fist move; walking over with an upraised fist to where Peter is pinned and letting him down gently. As soon as his feet touch the floor the light around his fist vanishes and with it the mysterious energy.

"That was you! It's like nothing I've ever seen! What is it? How do you direct it? Where did you discover it?"

Iron Fist grins. "Relax. I earned the powers of the Iron Fist by facing the dragon Shou Lao and taking responsibility for the city of K'un Lun. I am impressed that you were able to dodge my attacks. I suspect you are tied into the fabric of this world in a way the Doctor did not intend."

The thought discomfits Peter. Back in the Lab, experiments that didn't go as Doc Oc. intended tend to die unfortunate and painful deaths as what ever went wrong finished them off. What had gone wrong with him? Will he die?

-0-

Danny smiles at the sudden excitement of the serious teen and explains, then kicks himself when mention of the Doctor causes Peter's mood to deflate as surely as a popped balloon.

"Hey Parker. Pete. That's enough training for now. Lets hit the books and see where your education is at."

As they leave the combat room behind for the SHIELD library consuls Parker shakes his dark mood and moves up beside him. "So what kind of books do you have? Engineering? Biology? Physics? Chemistry?"

"All of those. Also literature, history, sociology, psychology, geology, astronomy, you name it."

"literature? Like fictional stuff?"

"Yes. We have fiction and non-fiction archives. Do you have any favorites?"

"Well…. A lot of the controls had great things to say about Harry Potter? And this one control always went on and on about this guy named Sherlock Benedict Cumberbatch? He sounded cool although I never quite understood if he was real or fictional. She didn't last long."

The causual way Peter refers to death chills Danny as he tries to focus on the lighter topic at hand. "Sherlock is a fictional character played by the real actor Benedict Cumberbatch. It's a good series if a bit melodramatic. What books have you read?"

"Have I read? None! Doc Oc never taught me, he just rattled on about his work a lot. This one control, Gwen-" The pause stretches into a silence and Danny looks over. Peter's face is drawn and pained. Danny reaches over and places a hand on his shoulder. "Gwen?"

Quietly Peter describes the girl who'd been his only friend. Who'd taught him about the outside world and what it meant to be free. Who'd tried to teach him how to read, only they couldn't see each other from their cells so the going was slow. Who, through her death, succeeded in teaching him that it wasn't good to care because caring only made life hurt worse.

"Pete." The words seem horribly inadequate but he has to say something. "I'm sorry."

A shadow falls over the somber teens. "Morning Parker. Rand. Ready for school?"

.

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TBC

Well... what are your thoughts?