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Schiller's consideration of Peter's request to stay seemed somewhat superficial.

Indeed, Spider-Man was kind, courageous, and resolute, but at the same time, Peter had the typical flaws of a young man his age: staying up all night, gaming addiction, not sleeping at night, and not waking up in the morning.

Perhaps due to the spider mutation, Peter had a voracious appetite and an obsession with all kinds of American hamburgers and fried chicken. Schiller couldn't help but think that if he continued like this, he would transform from a spider into a crab.

Schiller knocked on the edge of the pot and said, "Listen, I don't care how much energy you've spent training with Steve recently, but no human being should want another serving of porridge after eating five bowls of rice."

Peter put down his bowl, patting his stomach, and said, "I never dreamed I could eat so much. I suspect there's a black hole in my stomach."

Matt limped into the room; his injuries were not fully healed yet. Peter quickly stood up to help him, and Matt said, "He's still growing, so eating a bit more is necessary. But kid, promise me that after you eat, you'll exercise. If you don't want to turn into a ball, it's best not to spend all day in your room playing games."

Schiller also picked up Pikachu and said, "I guess it's your fault, Peter, whether it's eating so much at once or playing games all day…"

Pikachu, in a voice resembling Deadpool's, retorted, "How can you blame me? This sticky kid is as skinny as a bean sprout, and he's terrible at video games. Every time we play a fighting game, I have to use only one hand, and even in armed assault, the onions you cut in the morning have better aim than him."

Before Pikachu could finish, Peter covered his mouth, and Schiller said, "There's no more rice in the clinic, so you'll have to deal with dinner yourselves tonight."

Peter let out a mournful cry, and Schiller wiped the water droplets off his hands, saying, "Not just your dinner, mine too."

"Do we go out to eat?" Peter asked.

"Of course, and I know a good place. It's one of the benefits they provided me when I joined. I've heard the food there may not be very tasty, but it's definitely filling."

"Hmph," Peter scoffed, "They must be too young. I feel like I could swallow ten cows right now."

S.H.I.E.L.D.'s international defense headquarters were located in New York, with the entrance in a telephone booth not far from Manhattan. However, once inside the telephone booth, the elevator twisted and turned, making it impossible to know where it was heading.

Schiller had a sense system, and he faintly felt they were nearing the outskirts when the elevator finally stopped.

Schiller and Peter got off the elevator, and Coulson greeted them, saying, "As you can see, welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s international reception center. This is where they specially host various S.H.I.E.L.D. contract members and elite field agents."

Schiller glanced at his watch and said, "I suppose you'll honor the benefits written in our contracts when we joined?"

"Yes, the employee canteen is always free, and coffee is also free. Though the coffee here may not meet your high standards. If you're very particular about coffee, I can file a report higher up," Coulson said with a grin.

"No, that won't be necessary," Schiller waved it off. "I don't hold high hopes for the coffee tastes of those who prefer instant noodles."

Coulson led Schiller and Peter through the lobby and into the living area. Here, the decorations weren't overly sci-fi but had a minimalist Nordic feel, with plenty of fabric decor, giving it a comfortable ambiance.

Peter looked around and seemed a bit disappointed, saying, "I thought you guys would be working in a place like an alien spaceship."

"Well... the international defense headquarters and some scientific research centers are like that. But this place is just a reception center for field agents to eat and rest. Do you think spending 24 hours in an alien spaceship is a good idea?"

Peter didn't reply, but it was clear that this place didn't quite meet his expectations of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Coulson was perceptive and said, "If you formally join S.H.I.E.L.D., you'll have the chance to go to the headquarters, and it will surprise you."

Before Peter could inquire further, they arrived at the restaurant. It did have a bit of a sci-fi vibe, as there were no chefs. Instead, rows of food were placed on various conveyor belts, coming out from different windows.

"Is it a buffet?" Schiller asked.

"Regular agents don't have the time to wait for chefs, so it's all self-service here. But you can rest assured; you can find cuisine from all over the world here, and the taste is decent."

"That suits me," Schiller said.

Peter patted his stomach, and Schiller slapped his shoulder, saying, "Go on, Peter. I think you can make them regret giving me this job perk."

Coulson chuckled and said, "S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't so stingy that agents can't eat their fill. Go ahead, children. Your eating speed can't possibly match the conveyor here."

Schiller smiled faintly.

Three hours later, Natasha walked into the room with a telephone in her hand. She scolded on the phone, "Don't you know I'm on a mission with Stark? And what nonsense are you talking about? When did S.H.I.E.L.D. change the contract? Is there any treaty we can't provide? Do you need me to come back and make changes?"

She spoke on the phone while briskly walking into the restaurant. She pushed open the door and said, "Coulson! Damn it, you better give me a good reason, or I'll definitely complain to the director about you interfering with my work..."

As soon as she finished speaking, she saw the mountain of plates in the middle of the restaurant.

This was not an exaggeration; it was a fact. The circular restaurant was quite large, about several thousand square meters. However, at the moment, the middle of the restaurant was completely blocked by a towering pile of plates, reaching straight up to the ceiling, like a massive pyramid.

This pile of plates was at least three times as tall as a person, and dozens of people couldn't hold it together. Judging by the situation, it seemed they hadn't finished eating yet.

Natasha stepped over a pile of food debris and patted a meal delivery robot that was already smoking a cigarette. She exclaimed, "What's going on here? Is Nick Fury finally planning to raise dinosaurs at S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Coulson leaned wearily against a bar and said, "They really need to reconsider the clause about employee meal benefits in the contract..."

Natasha glanced up and down at the heap of plates and remarked, "I remember that clause, but employees aren't supposed to bring outsiders, right? How many people did he bring? Is there a whole party going on?"

Coulson pointed, and Natasha walked around the pile of plates, only to discover just three figures: Peter, defeated and dozing off in a chair, Pikachu, looking a bit tired but still tossing plates onto the plate mountain, and Schiller, the one with Grey Mist, who didn't seem to mind eating at all. Instead, he stashed the food into Grey Mist, breaking it down without actually consuming it. In essence, he had come here for supplies.

Of course, Grey Mist seemed to be enjoying itself, consuming at least dozens of kilograms of desserts loaded with chocolate, syrup, and pickled fruits. Schiller even let him have a tiny sip of fear gas concentrate. At the moment, he was happily looping through Schiller's mind, dancing to the catchy tunes he had learned from the television.

Natasha blinked, momentarily at a loss for words.

"Hey, is the restaurant still open? I just finished my run, and tonight, we're having basil beef..."

Captain America had just pushed the door open, but he too froze in shock. "I knew it. Nick told me decades ago that he wanted to raise elephants, but I never thought he'd fulfill that dream now..."

Coulson didn't say a word. He covered his face and raised his arm as Captain America walked past the pile of plates, finally seeing the three individuals gorging themselves.

"Um..." Captain America hesitated, then turned to Natasha. "Please don't tell me they've eaten all the food in the restaurant."

Natasha forced a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and slapped the overhead panel of a nearby delivery robot.

After reading the information, she said, "Very well, we can now decide which restaurant in New York to have dinner at. And let's consider where to eat tomorrow morning and afternoon as well."

Schiller stood up casually, behaving as if nothing was amiss. "Thanks for the hospitality. The employee benefits here are quite good, but unfortunately, I'm a bit pressed for time today. After all, I have a friend who's hungry, so I'll have to pack some food for him to take home. I'll pass on lunch for now."

Natasha stopped him, saying, "While S.H.I.E.L.D. can certainly afford the cost of this food, you guys eating here means our other agents won't have anything to eat during their restocking period. Are you willing to let your colleagues go hungry?"

Steve chimed in, "Can't you see it? Of course, he's willing. He's even willing to let his friend go hungry. I was planning to have a big steak, but now it looks like I can't even get a single French fry."

Schiller snapped his fingers, and Pikachu set down the last beef patty. Jumping onto Schiller's shoulder, he smiled and said, "I have a great place to recommend. It's part of my other job's perks, and while the food there isn't great, it's guaranteed to fill you up."

Natasha and Steve exchanged knowing glances.

Five hours later, Stark gazed at the mountain of plates in the employee canteen of Stark Industries. He opened his mouth but couldn't find words to express his astonishment.

JARVIS spoke up beside him, saying, "I assume you're not in the mood for a detailed report on food loss right now, but I must inform you that if we don't receive new food supplies by 10 o'clock, all company employees will go hungry tomorrow."

Stark took a deep breath, already envisioning Pepper's fury at him tomorrow, as she faced a room full of complaints from employees.

Dressed in his suit of armor, Stark clanked through the pile of plates and looked at the three individuals lying back in their chairs, their bellies full.

"Very well, you've managed to create the first food crisis in Stark Industries in a century. If Pepper gives me a hard time tomorrow, I'm giving each of you a punch."

Schiller replied nonchalantly, "Don't be nervous; we'll go buy more."

"It's almost 9 o'clock now. Where do you expect the procurement team to buy from? Our transportation is shut down, and even if we buy something, how will we transport it?"

"Come on! A Captain America, two super agents, Spider-Man, and Iron Man. Can't you guys carry a bit of groceries?"

Two hours later, everyone was flying back with bags full of food.

Stark had never dreamt that the Superhero Squad's first mission would involve going to the nearest supermarket to buy heaps of groceries, with each hero carrying numerous bags.

Stark grumbled as he flew, "Damn it, I can't let my fans see Iron Man like this. Am I a babysitter robot or a housewife rice cooker?"

He had just finished speaking when a flurry of camera flashes went off.

The next day, the front page headline of The New York Times featured a picture of Iron Man loaded with dozens of shopping bags. Behind him, two individuals leaped between high-rise buildings, also carrying bags of groceries in various sizes and shapes.

As for Pepper, she was on the top floor of Stark Tower, yelling at Stark, "You, you useless busybody! The high-gluten flour you bought has turned all the bread and cakes in the employee canteen into rubber bands!"