"Hi, welcome to McDonald's, how can I help you today?"

Peter walked past Sam on headset, making sure that everyone was working properly. It was early February and it was starting to warm up as the winter months began to thaw away. Peter's plan was on track; in fact, he had already been promoted to manager, probably due to the fact that he could work at anytime during the day and managed to keep his cool every time an entitled Karen sauntered up to the store.

From where he was running around the store, helping train a new worker and taking orders, Peter could hear the 16-year-old girl getting flustered at the window. Someone screeched outside, the string of profanities muffled by distance. Sam came around the corner, her dark eyes growing shiny as she picked at her uniform. "Peter, I need your help. This woman is demanding the manager."

"Another Karen? That's the third one this week." He walked back with her, opening the window to see a furious woman, raging about something stupid or other. "Hello ma'am, what appears to be the problem?"

"Are you the manager? You look twelve."

It had been five seconds and Peter was already done with her. He plastered on a fake smile. "No ma'am, I'm 17 and I am the manager. What appears to be the problem?"

The woman huffed, eyeing the teen with disdain. "Your stupid worker here won't give me a discount for my fries not being salty enough."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "A discount... because your fries weren't salty enough?" When the woman nodded, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. With a sickly fake sweetness lacing his voice he continued. "Unfortunately we cannot offer a discount, however we can offer you a packet of salt."

Karen's last measly straw was broken and she snapped, screaming profanity at unhumaly high decibels in Peter's face. The boy merely stared, debating whether to laugh at her entitlement or to slam the window in her face. When he didn't react the woman took matters in her own hands by throwing her scalding hot coffee at him. Peter barely had the chance to react, even with his spidey sense, and the boiling hot liquid soaked through his shirt. He hissed, grabbing a handful of salt packets and pegging them out the window before slamming the window shut.

Sam blinked, still trying to process what had happened. "What the... Peter, are you okay!?"

"Yep. Mhm. I'm fine. Just dandy." Peter pulled the shirt away from his chest to avoid getting any more coffee onto his skin. He'd survive; after all he was Spider-Man. "Can you see if we have any spare shirts?"

Sam nodded and went to get one while he vanished into the back room, pulling his stained shirt off and dabbing at his chest. The red skin was tender, but nothing that several minutes with an insane healing factor wouldn't fix. Sam came in with a spare shirt repeatedly asking if he was okay no matter how hard he reassured her. "How did you just... keep your cool like that?"

Peter shrugged, pinning his badge back on. "I've dealt with worse people in my life. She's just a grumpy sourpatch."

Sam nodded, giving him a last once-over to make sure that he was 100% fine. "Okay. If you're sure." She paused. "Heard back from MIT yet?"

Peter shook his head. "Not yet." He had sat the entrance exams last month after having to explain some elaborate lie of how his parents were scientists (technically true) and how they had honeschooled him (big fat lie) and wanted him to go to MIT. Oddly enough, everyone believed him. After all, he couldn't really go back to Midtown Tech, not since the whole memory spell. Now he was waiting to see if he got in or not, but as MJ once said, "Expect disappointment and you won't be disappointed." Despite that, a small part of Peter still held on to hope that maybe he would get in.

Sam and Peter went back to work, neither of them mentioning the fact Peter had just been the target of a cup of boiling coffee. It was too fast-paced to get any decent word of conversation. There was hardly any time to think. And Peter liked that. His mind stayed focused on the present, not on the past, and work kept him distracted from any loneliness he was trying to overcome. Besides, he had made a pretty awesome friend with Sam, becoming somewhat of an older brother figure to her. It worked out, and work was great, no matter how many times he got scalding hot beverages pegged at him.

The bus ride home was uneventful and cramped, consisting mainly of Peter telling himself that he really needed to find a better mode of transport. The bus stop was still around the corner from his apartment, so by the time he got home he was exhausted from everything. He dumped his coffee-stained shirt in his laundry hamper and changed into his old Midtown High sweater, unconsciously picking at the small lint balls. The rose plant on the counter needed watering and he should probably be starting to consider dinner, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

With all of his suits from Tony Stan either missing or destroyed, Peter had no access to KAREN, his old AI in his first ever suit from Stark. Now that he didn't have a guy in the chair, patrol became very lonely and it was hard for Peter to bring his phone along with him to overhear on police comms. So he had borrowed some base coding online and got to work with creating someone to keep him company.

His laptop whirred with age as he opened it, the coding he was working on still there. "Okay, now I just need to tweak this here..." With a few changes made to the coding, it was finally done and Peter could upload it to his glasses. They weren't prescription or anything, just a pair of round, good-quality costume glasses with thick frames perfect for housing wires. Peter plugged the glasses into his laptop, waiting for the little ping that would alert him it was done while he got about with dinner.

It was when he was halfway through his meal, flipping through a textbook that the computer chimed. Peter leapt off his seat so fast that he nearly spilt fettuccini alfredo everywhere as he hurried to unplug the glasses. Please work please work please work... They slid on his face easily, still keeping the world around him in focus. "... May?" He asked timidly, scared that he'd screwed the coding up or the upload didn't work, or maybe there was something faulty in the wires-

"Hello Peter." May Parker's voice echoed through the little earpiece and Peter whooped. He'd done it: he'd made his own Artificial Intelligence. "How can I help you today?"

Peter grinned. "Run me through everything you know about yourself."

"My name is M.A.Y.. M.A.Y. stands for Ms. Artificial Youth, in honour of your aunt, May Parker. I was designed by you to help you on your patrol around New York as Spider-Man, and also to keep you company. You've recently applied for a scholarship to MIT and you're also a manager at your local McDonald's. You have an IQ of 250, you excel in mathematics, physics and science and you want to work at Stark Industries." She paused, waiting for his response. "Is that correct?"

"You hit the nail on the head." Man, it was good to hear May's voice again, even if it was in the form of a computer. "Okay, I've got some studying to do-"

"Putting on your study playlist now."

Yeah, having M.A.Y. was kinda awesome.