TM 184 -- Change (vaguely meta)
*OOC -- Based on Marvel Civil War canon. See longer note at the end.
Curt: We set out to change the world and ending up… just changing ourselves.
Arthur: What's wrong with that?
Curt: Nothing! … If you don't look at the world.
(Todd Haynes, Velvet Goldmine)
So you want to be a hero? Great. I approve. Nobody's been more supportive of the superhero movement over the years than I have. There's just one little thing that I'd like the rest of you to realize:
This is not your personal therapy session. This is not an opportunity to prove yourself to your dead parents, or impress the girl who got away, or get back at everybody who was mean to you in the seventh grade. Fighting the Human Nerve-Bomb in the 42nd street subway station, collapsing half the ceiling and traumatizing a train full of people who were just trying to get to work -- if you win your little battle, and leave the guy tied up, and make a little quip and fly off to get a beer and get laid? Everybody on that train is gonna think you're a douchebag. And they'll have a point.
News flash, little hero: saving the world isn't about you. It's about the world. In the grand scheme of things, your love life and your neuroses and your childhood trauma don't add up to a hill of beans. You're a professional; you're an adult. Start acting like it.
Now if you're reading this, and you're wondering if I'm thinking about a guy named Peter Benjamin Parker -- well, yes. Yes, I am. Peter Parker is Spider-Man. He's been Spider-Man for years. You all know he's Spider-Man, because he came on television and he told you that he was. Some of you may have heard -- or you think, or you guess -- that he did it because I told him to. And yes -- that's true, too. I know what you're asking -- how could Tony could he do that to his friend? How could Tony do that to Pete, Pete who's spent years being terrified of anyone finding out who he really is?
My answer is -- that's why. Peter has been through some terrible things over the years, experiences no one should have to suffer through. But, I was trying to get him to understand -- that was over. All that time, working on his own, Peter turned Spider-Man into a legend. A great story of individualism and success. Spider-Man is the hero everybody wants to be. Hell, I'd like to be Spider-Man. He would team up with the Avengers or the X-men every once in a while and run circles around the teams, all on his own. (Not that running circles around certain X-men is that hard -- your name's Gambit? You throw cards? -- But I digress). The point is, Peter spent all those years on his own, sharing the burden with no one who could really understand. Great power, yes; great responsibility, yes -- and he took it all on his own.
And then he joined the Avengers. He moved into Stark Tower, and he brought his family with him. No more solo act. I brought him in on the ground floor of Stark Industries, set him up to be my successor. I loved the guy -- sure, go ahead and laugh, but I did, and not in some pervy, self-interested way. I loved Peter Parker because he was just that good. Because he was a good person, and because he was good at what he did. Because he could have grown up to be me, only better.
When I chose Peter Parker as the symbol of openness in the superhero community, I didn't just do it because he was Spider-Man. I did it because he was Peter. I did it because no one was more scared for the welfare of his family and loved ones -- and no one had less reason to be. His family was living in the Tower, under full Avengers' protection. I'm not going to pretend that kept them safe from every kind of harm, but it put them in the same boat as all the rest of us. Peter was already publicly identified as my assistant; if anything, knowing that he was also Spider-Man ought to keep his family safer. Because Peter may still look like a sixteen year old choir boy, but he's an adult, and also -- he's Spider-Man. It shouldn't take J. Jonah Jameson to tell you, that guy can be dangerous.
So Peter went on TV and took off his mask. Then he went in the bathroom and puked his guts out while I stood in the hall cracking jokes. Then I promised to take care of his family. I meant every word of it. Then I sent him out in a world where he could finally show people his face, and find out it was nothing to be scared of. It wasn't just the best thing for the world. It was the best thing for him.
Some people don't know what's good for them. Some people never want to change.
*OOC -- This prompt is based on Marvel 616 Civil War canon, including The Amazing Spider-Man, and refers to those comics rather than to TM Spider-man-pups, who I think are all movieverse. I'm not incorporating post-CW canon, re: the murder attempt on Aunt May, because that arc's currently unresolved and it doesn't appear that anybody else knows about it, anyway. And if Tony did know -- well, even Tony's not that heartless of an SOB, but he might secretly be thinking that it proves his point.
Curt: We set out to change the world and ending up… just changing ourselves.
Arthur: What's wrong with that?
Curt: Nothing! … If you don't look at the world.
(Todd Haynes, Velvet Goldmine)
So you want to be a hero? Great. I approve. Nobody's been more supportive of the superhero movement over the years than I have. There's just one little thing that I'd like the rest of you to realize:
This is not your personal therapy session. This is not an opportunity to prove yourself to your dead parents, or impress the girl who got away, or get back at everybody who was mean to you in the seventh grade. Fighting the Human Nerve-Bomb in the 42nd street subway station, collapsing half the ceiling and traumatizing a train full of people who were just trying to get to work -- if you win your little battle, and leave the guy tied up, and make a little quip and fly off to get a beer and get laid? Everybody on that train is gonna think you're a douchebag. And they'll have a point.
News flash, little hero: saving the world isn't about you. It's about the world. In the grand scheme of things, your love life and your neuroses and your childhood trauma don't add up to a hill of beans. You're a professional; you're an adult. Start acting like it.
Now if you're reading this, and you're wondering if I'm thinking about a guy named Peter Benjamin Parker -- well, yes. Yes, I am. Peter Parker is Spider-Man. He's been Spider-Man for years. You all know he's Spider-Man, because he came on television and he told you that he was. Some of you may have heard -- or you think, or you guess -- that he did it because I told him to. And yes -- that's true, too. I know what you're asking -- how could Tony could he do that to his friend? How could Tony do that to Pete, Pete who's spent years being terrified of anyone finding out who he really is?
My answer is -- that's why. Peter has been through some terrible things over the years, experiences no one should have to suffer through. But, I was trying to get him to understand -- that was over. All that time, working on his own, Peter turned Spider-Man into a legend. A great story of individualism and success. Spider-Man is the hero everybody wants to be. Hell, I'd like to be Spider-Man. He would team up with the Avengers or the X-men every once in a while and run circles around the teams, all on his own. (Not that running circles around certain X-men is that hard -- your name's Gambit? You throw cards? -- But I digress). The point is, Peter spent all those years on his own, sharing the burden with no one who could really understand. Great power, yes; great responsibility, yes -- and he took it all on his own.
And then he joined the Avengers. He moved into Stark Tower, and he brought his family with him. No more solo act. I brought him in on the ground floor of Stark Industries, set him up to be my successor. I loved the guy -- sure, go ahead and laugh, but I did, and not in some pervy, self-interested way. I loved Peter Parker because he was just that good. Because he was a good person, and because he was good at what he did. Because he could have grown up to be me, only better.
When I chose Peter Parker as the symbol of openness in the superhero community, I didn't just do it because he was Spider-Man. I did it because he was Peter. I did it because no one was more scared for the welfare of his family and loved ones -- and no one had less reason to be. His family was living in the Tower, under full Avengers' protection. I'm not going to pretend that kept them safe from every kind of harm, but it put them in the same boat as all the rest of us. Peter was already publicly identified as my assistant; if anything, knowing that he was also Spider-Man ought to keep his family safer. Because Peter may still look like a sixteen year old choir boy, but he's an adult, and also -- he's Spider-Man. It shouldn't take J. Jonah Jameson to tell you, that guy can be dangerous.
So Peter went on TV and took off his mask. Then he went in the bathroom and puked his guts out while I stood in the hall cracking jokes. Then I promised to take care of his family. I meant every word of it. Then I sent him out in a world where he could finally show people his face, and find out it was nothing to be scared of. It wasn't just the best thing for the world. It was the best thing for him.
Some people don't know what's good for them. Some people never want to change.
*OOC -- This prompt is based on Marvel 616 Civil War canon, including The Amazing Spider-Man, and refers to those comics rather than to TM Spider-man-pups, who I think are all movieverse. I'm not incorporating post-CW canon, re: the murder attempt on Aunt May, because that arc's currently unresolved and it doesn't appear that anybody else knows about it, anyway. And if Tony did know -- well, even Tony's not that heartless of an SOB, but he might secretly be thinking that it proves his point.