Xcalibur Xc

Quick Note

Shazam ff

Let me get a 3 chs up for the Platinum tiers, then Gold members will get the usual update. Give me 2 days. 🫡

Next chapter will be up by tomorrow for the Platinum members.

[Shazam] Ch: 24 [Ninja Turtles vs John]

Crackle! A lightning bolt crackled in the sky and seemed to hit somewhere... The Turtles looked up.

"Lightning in the clear sky? That's weird," Donnie mumbled.

A few minutes later...

John’s boots crunched against the gravel as he crossed the dim park. The pizzas balanced easily in one hand. The park was dead quiet except for the faint buzz of a lamp above the lone bench. On it, a rock pinned down a stack of bills.

From the shadows, a voice rasped low. “Place the pizzas on the bench, take the cash, and walk away.”

John set the boxes on the bench, took the cash, and tucked it into his jacket. Then, he asked. “What are the Turtles doing in Dakota City? Sightseeing… or Shredder?”

There was a moment of silence.

Then four shapes burst from the shadows, hitting the ground hard and circling him. Their shells glinted faintly in the lamplight. Each one taller and bulkier than John remembered from cartoons and comics. These weren’t kids’ mascots. These were warriors.

He turned his head slightly, pointing a finger as he spoke their names. “Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, and Michelangelo. You’re bigger than I imagined.”

The tallest, carrying twin katanas, narrowed his eyes. Leo. Calm but cautious. “You know too much. Who are you?” He narrowed his eyes.

Raphael stepped forward, red mask framing his scowl. His sais glinted in the dark as he leveled one toward John. “Speak. You with Shredder? How do you know us?”

John’s expression never flickered. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is why you’re in Dakota City, and I want to know why.”

Raph’s lip curled. “Wrong answer.” He twirled a sai in his hand and put it back into the waist holder. “I’ll beat it out of you, then you can talk.”

“Go ahead,” John said with his usual calm expression. "Do your worst."

"Wait! Ralf!" Leo sensed something unusual and a sense of danger from the man before him. And before he could stop Ralf...

He snarled and lunged. His fist shot forward in a brutal hook. It connected square with John’s jaw. 

Crackk! The impact cracked the air, dust kicking up around their feet.

John didn’t even blink. He stood there like a pillar with zero damage and looked at Raph as if he was expecting more, and was now disappointed. “That’s it? You hit like a kid. Try harder or would you like to eat first to get some energy?]

Raph growled. “You cocky son of a—”

He swung again, faster, harder. John caught the fist in one hand, fingers locking around the turtle’s knuckles like a vice.

"What power?!" Raph strained to pull free.

“Better,” John murmured, his grip unyielding. Then he shoved. The force sent Raph skidding backward, feet grinding furrows in the dirt until he slammed into a tree. Bark splintered.

“Raph!” Mikey shouted, nunchucks already whirling. He spun into the air, flipping over John’s head, and snapped both nunchucks down at once. Wood and chain cracked against John’s shoulders.

John didn’t move. “Cute.” He reached up and caught one of the chains mid-swing.

"Oh-oh!" Mikey’s eyes went wide as John yanked him out of the air and slammed him onto the ground with a bone-rattling thud. Dust sprayed up around them.

"No one hurts my brothers." Donnie came in next, bo staff leveled. He didn’t charge recklessly. Instead, he slid forward, jabbing fast and precise, aiming for joints and pressure points. The staff snapped against John’s ribs, wrist, thigh, each strike landing sharply.

John yawned as those attacks were meaningless. They echoed like steel on stone. Donnie’s brow furrowed. “What the hell are you made of?”

“Doesn't matter. What matters is that your leader told you to stop, yet you kept charging in blindly. And for the record, I got anger issues and unresolved traumas that still haunt me in my sleep. So, I'm gonna vent it all by beating the shit out of you all," John said. He seized the staff mid-strike and pulled, dragging Donnie forward. Donnie rolled with it, twisting and kicking upward. His heel clipped John’s jaw, snapping his head back slightly.

John chuckled. “Almost.” With a flick of his arm, he hurled Donnie across the grass. The turtle rolled and landed in a crouch, already resetting. He then looked at Leo. "They still have a long way to go."

"That they do," Leo agreed.

"Like, why attack someone without talking first?" John said with a little shrug. "So..." He pointed his finger at Leo. "Come at me. Show me your ninjutsu and whatnots."

Leonardo slid one foot forward, drawing both katanas. His posture was precise, his shoulders square, eyes locked on John. The calm was there, but so was the pressure. A leader’s weight. He had watched his brothers get tossed like rag dolls and felt the pulse of danger rolling off this stranger. But he couldn’t back down.

“You’ve made your point,” Leo said evenly. His blades glinted beneath the lamp’s buzz. “But we’re not leaving without knowing who you really are.”

John tilted his head, lips curving into a faint smirk. “Then come find out. Let’s see what the fearless leader of the Ninja Turtles can do.”

Leo exploded forward, faster than his size should have allowed. His katanas crossed in a flash, slicing downward in an X-strike. Sparks flew when the blades met John’s forearms. The sound rang like steel clashing against stone. Leo’s eyes widened but he didn’t falter. He spun on his heel, twisting into a sweeping slash at John’s waist.

John caught the blade between two fingers. He didn’t even flinch. “Sharp,” he muttered, flicking his hand. The katana wrenched free from Leo’s grip, tumbling through the air before it stabbed into the dirt behind him.

Leo didn’t hesitate. He pressed forward with his second sword, stabbing toward John’s chest. John sidestepped, the point whistling past his ribs. In that instant Leo used the momentum to flip forward, slashing upward with a rising arc that could have gutted a car in two.

John let the strike connect. The blade screeched against his skin, leaving not a mark. He sighed. “You’re disciplined. Controlled. But you’re holding back. You want answers. Don’t you?”

Leo jumped back, reclaiming his fallen sword in one fluid motion. His eyes never left John. “You’re strong. Stronger than anything we’ve fought before. I can tell that this won't be easy. But we don't quit."

“Good.” John planted his feet, aura crackling faintly with golden sparks. “Then don’t quit. Show me what the four of you can do together. Stop coming at me like amateurs. Come at me with full strength."

Mikey staggered to his feet, clutching his nunchucks with a sheepish grin. “Uh, guys? I think Rock Solid here just told us to go full combo mode.”

Raph cracked his neck, still rubbing the shoulder that had slammed into the tree. “Finally. I was getting bored of watching him shrug us off.”

Donnie twirled his bo staff, planting it in the dirt. “Then we go coordinated. No holding back.”

Leo nodded. “Shell Shock formation. On me.”

The brothers moved instantly, years of practice syncing them like gears in a clock. Mikey bounded to the left, spinning his nunchucks with wild rhythm. Donnie slid right, staff flashing in defensive arcs. Raph stormed straight up the middle, fists clenched tight, while Leo circled wide with his blades ready.

John cracked his knuckles. “Finally.”

Raph hit first. He launched forward with a spinning kick, sai flashing in his other hand. John leaned back, letting the kick whistle past his nose. Before Raph could reset, Mikey was already there, swinging his nunchucks low toward John’s knees. John stepped over the chain, but that gave Donnie the angle he wanted. His bo staff came down like a hammer, slamming across John’s shoulders.

The sound echoed like wood striking iron. John didn’t budge, but his grin widened.

Leo seized the opening. He surged in from behind, crossing both katanas in a twin slash at John’s back. Sparks screamed as the blades raked across indestructible flesh. John pivoted, catching both swords in his hands. The energy around him flared gold, casting harsh light over the grass.

“You’re coordinated. I’ll give you that,” John said. Then he shoved outward, releasing a blast of lightning that blasted all four turtles back. They hit the dirt, skidding and rolling, but scrambled to their feet without hesitation.

“Again!” Leo barked.

They came in harder this time. "Make some way, Mikey on the way!" Mikey vaulted off Donnie’s back, flipping high into the air and raining down spinning chains like a helicopter.

"Take this!" Raph followed with a diving shoulder, his shell slamming into John’s chest with the force of a battering ram.

For the first time, John shifted back half a step from the heavy impact. “Better,” he murmured.

Donnie slid low, sweeping John’s ankles with his staff. John didn’t move, but Mikey’s chains wrapped around his arm mid-swing. Leo dove in again, slashing faster and faster, aiming for pressure points. Together, they moved like a team, every strike chaining into the next.

John let them. He let the hits land, sparks flying, wood cracking, steel ringing. For anyone else, it would have been overwhelming. For him, it was fun. He stood amidst the fury like a mountain.

Finally, he clenched his fists and growled. “My turn.”

He twisted, ripping Mikey off the chain like pulling a weed from the ground. Mikey yelped as John flung him sideways, rolling across the grass until he hit a bench and splintered it. Donnie thrust his staff at John’s ribs, but John grabbed it, snapped it in half with two fingers, and punched Donnie, sending him flying a few feet.

Raph roared and tackled John from the side. They slammed into a tree, bark exploding around them. Raph swung his fists like hammers, each blow rattling the park with thunder. John let him rage, then caught both fists mid-swing. With a grunt, he lifted Raph off his feet and hurled him skyward. The turtle crashed down into the fountain thirty feet away, water spraying in every direction.

That left Leo.

He slashed, stabbed, feinted, rolled—his style was almost perfect. John parried with his bare hands, each deflection sounding like stone striking steel. Their movements blurred under the lamp’s glow, sparks flying with every clash.

“You are good,” John said, blocking another stab. “But…” He caught Leo’s wrist, squeezing until the katana slipped free. “It ain't enough. You think too much before attacking.”

Leo growled, twisting free with his other sword still ready. “And you talk too much.” He lunged, blade driving toward John’s throat.

John’s hand snapped up. He caught the sword tip between thumb and forefinger. Sparks shrieked as the blade shuddered against unbreakable skin.

In a blur, John twisted the sword, yanked Leo forward, and planted a palm against his chest. A golden crackle surged. Leo shot backward like a cannonball, slamming into the dirt beside his brothers.

All four turtles groaned, struggling back to their feet, battered but unbroken. They regrouped, standing side by side, weapons raised.

John crossed his arms. “Not bad. That was somewhat better. But against Shredder? Not good enough.”

Raph spat dirt. “The hell are you, some kind of coach?”

John smirked. “Well, I trained Harley and Maureen on how to make pizza and garlic bread. Does that count?"

Leo straightened, breathing hard but steady. His eyes narrowed. “You knew our names. You knew about Shredder. That means you know what’s coming.”

“Knowing the names doesn't mean I know what's coming,” John said. The pizza boxes were lying on the ground, but still intact. “Eat. You’ll need your strength. And when you’re ready, we’ll talk.”

Mikey dusted himself off, eyeing John with awe and nerves. “Bro… we just went all out and he treated it like warm-up stretches.”

Donnie adjusted his cracked staff with a grimace. “I don’t think he’s the enemy. He had many chances to critically injure us and kill us, but he simply brushed us off.”

Ralf growled, "I don't like him."

Leo kept his gaze on John, cautious, calculating. “Are you the protector of this city?"

John said as he stretched his arms and looked at his torn clothes. "Nope. I'm just a pizza guy who wants to live in peace. If Shredder is in town, it means chaos, and it might affect my business. Besides, I got a surprise birthday party planned for Harley this week. I can take the loss, but there is no way I'll let some ninja freak spoil my girl's birthday party. I even ordered a giant cake. What if that freak blows up the shop? So, speak up. What are you boys doing in Dakota?" 

---

[Shazam] Ch: 23 [TMNT in town?!]

[Two Months Later]

With the cash Harley “recovered” from her little stink-bomb heist, John had expanded the business. Three more pizza joints opened across the city, each buzzing with new hires running ovens and counters. Delivery scooters painted in the same bright red-and-white logo zipped down streets.

They rebranded the name from J&H Pizza to J&H&M Pizza. It wasn’t just John and Harley’s thing anymore. Maureen had earned her place. The girl who once looked at the world like it would crush her had become part of it. She worked hard, kept pace with Harley’s antics, and slowly carved her smile into the life they were building.

Then came the ice cream. That was Harley’s idea, but Maureen’s power made it real.

J&H&M started pushing out tubs of ice cream and popsicles under their brand. The flavors were good, and so were the quality and quantity. Harley pitched it like she was selling gold, but John was the one who undercut the competition with cheap prices and used the limited stock tactic. The result was simple. They ate the lower market alive. Bodegas, corner stores, and even supermarkets carried J&H&M popsicles. Kids clutched them walking home from school, parents bought boxes in bulk, and every freezer in the city seemed to have their logo stamped inside.

John had called it good business. Harley called it world domination with sprinkles.

And Maureen? She just worked the machine in the back, freezing crates of popsicles in minutes with one sweep of her hand, always smiling a little at the thought that this was her contribution. Something sweet. Something people wanted.

Life wasn’t all ovens and ice, though. Harley had taken it upon herself to teach Maureen the one thing she thought every self-respecting vigilante pizza girl needed: how to ride a bike.

It started rough. Maureen stalled the engine. She wobbled. She nearly toppled into a trash can on the first day. Harley, of course, laughed until her ribs hurt. But she never let the girl quit.

“C’mon, Bluebell,” she had shouted over the roar of engines one night, both of them parked at the edge of an empty lot. “Bike’s just like life. You fall, you scrape your ass, and then you get back on until you stop lookin’ like a baby deer on roller skates.”

Two weeks later, Maureen was leaning into turns with a grin plastered across her face. By the end of the month, she and Harley were flying down Dakota’s streets side by side, engines screaming, cutting through traffic like streaks of light.

Delivery time dropped in half. Their reputation soared.

“Fastest damn delivery in the city,” one customer bragged on the news after a clip of Harley and Maureen weaving through cars went viral. “Thirty minutes or less? More like ten.”

So J&H&M Pizza became more than just food. It became speed, ice, and firecracker energy. 

And in the middle of it all, John watched with arms crossed and that same tired frown that didn’t fool Harley or Maureen for a second. He was proud and happy.

...

As for the city, the arson and theft slightly decreased after Hotshreak disappeared. The city breathed a little easier. The mayor tried to make it look as if he were the one who stopped the flaming menace and the press rolled with it... Politics...

But underneath the good press, there were whispers. Cops muttered about clusters of Bang Babies disappearing off the streets. Known troublemakers vanished. Old crews were going quiet. Rumor had it someone was scooping them up, one by one, and building a crew too organized to be a coincidence. Nobody knew who. The only hint was the shadowy figure seen near abandoned warehouses.

Harley called it “Dakota’s Bang Baby Boy Band Reunion Tour.” John didn’t laugh.

J&H&M didn’t stop their night work, either. The police scanners stayed hot. Whenever a robbery broke out or some low-level powered punk tried to shake down a store, the trio geared up. They weren’t perfect. Sometimes they arrived late, sometimes they just scared people enough to scatter. But word was spreading. The pizza vigilantes weren’t just a gimmick anymore. They were a problem for anyone thinking of making easy money.

Maureen had grown into it. She was still nervous before every fight, but she was really awesome when freezing the goons. Harley had turned her nerves into a running gag, calling her “Snow Jitters,” but there was pride in every joke.

John didn’t throw himself into the spotlight, but he was the one dragging them back to the alleys when things got too loud, kept their gear maintained, and reminded Harley that cops weren’t fans of masked vigilantes smashing heads, even if they left free pizza behind.

Life balanced between normal and insane. In the day, they were a fast-food empire with sprinkles. At night, they were shadows chasing louder shadows.

And always, in the background, the rumor grew. A new gang forming. Something big coming. Something that made the police nervous enough to triple patrols near the docks.

One night, after a long shift and a quiet run, John sat on the roof of their first shop with Harley on one side and Maureen on the other. The streets below hummed with traffic, neon buzzing against the night.

“You feel it?” he asked quietly.

“Feel what?” Harley chewed on a cherry popsicle, already halfway melted.

“That it’s about to get worse before it gets better.”

Harley snorted. “Please. Worse is my middle name. Well, actually, it’s Frances, but you get the point.”

...

[9 PM]

A few days later, the shop was winding down. The ovens hummed low, the air smelled like melted cheese and oregano, and only three jocks were left at a corner booth trading jokes between mouthfuls of slices. Harley leaned against the counter, phone in hand, eyes glued to Angry Birds. Every time she nailed a level, she muttered “boom, headshot” under her breath.

John was wiping down the prep station when the printer chirped. A late order. He tugged the slip free and froze as he read it. Four large pizzas. One extra cheese and pepperoni. One farmhouse veggie with extra olives. One loaded with hot sauce, jalapenos, and red pepper flakes. And one with peanut butter and jelly.

His left eye twitched. Slowly, he looked at Maureen, who had just finished stacking boxes at the counter. She leaned over to read and her nose wrinkled.

“Peanut butter and jelly on pizza?” she whispered. “That should be illegal.”

“Yeah,” John muttered, though the absurdity wasn’t what made his pulse spike. Something from his other life rattled in the back of his skull, memories of watching Saturday morning cartoons as a kid. Four strange orders. Peanut butter and jelly. Hot sauce madness. Extra olives. His hands clenched the slip.

The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

If he was right, this wasn’t just some weird stoner’s order. This meant there were four very specific customers in Dakota. Which meant chaos wasn’t far behind. Those turtles always chase their arch nemesis, Shredder. Which means there is a chance that Shredder is in town with his ninja gang, and these recent rumors must be related to them. But if he joins hands with that shadow freak Ebon and his gang of Bang Babies, this will get nasty pretty fast.

Still, he got to work. He made each pizza exactly as written, layering the spicy one so heavy it almost smoked, spreading peanut butter and jelly that he had Maureen bring from upstairs. Harley wandered over and raised an eyebrow when she saw the lineup.

“Okay, I’ve seen freaky cravings, but this? Who in their right mind wants Skippy on a pie?”

“Don’t worry about it,” John said, sliding the last box shut.

Maureen frowned. “Shouldn’t we call this in or something? This doesn’t feel normal.”

John stacked the boxes, his jaw tight. “I’ll take this one myself.”

Harley squinted at him. “Since when do you do deliveries?”

“Since now.” He pulled on his jacket. “Lock up after closing. I won’t be long.”

He balanced the boxes in one hand and went out.

...

[3rd Street Avenue]

Luvin Park was almost empty, just a wide stretch of grass and a few scattered benches. At this hour, only stray cats and dogs kept the place alive.

But in the darker corner near the swings, four shadows moved. They kept low, voices hushed, but the hunger in their tone was impossible to miss.

“Man, I could eat a whole cow right now,” one whispered, holding his stomach.

“Keep it down,” another snapped. His voice had weight to it, calm and sharp. “We don’t need anyone recognizing us. We’re supposed to stay ghosts.”

“Ghosts don’t starve,” the third muttered. “I swear if this pizza guy takes long I’ll chew on my own arm.”

The fourth gave a low laugh, tapping out a rhythm on the pavement with his knuckles. The sound built into a steady beat. One by one, the others joined in, stomping lightly or snapping fingers. 

One voice rose low and hungry.

“Stomach rumblin’, feel it twist and shout,
Need that pizza now, before I black out.”

Another chimed in, sharper, snapping fingers to the beat.

“Extra cheese, pepperoni stack it tall,
Feed the crew quick, or we eat the stone wall.”

The third voice cracked in with a laugh, his tone playful, almost mocking.

“Veggies on the side, yeah don’t be late,
Olives, mushrooms, pile it on my plate.”

The fourth voice cut through, calm but heavy, keeping them grounded.

“Stay low, keep quiet, shadows in the night,
Money on the bench, keep the deal tight.
We eat, we split, then we fade from sight,
No names, no faces, no streetlight fight.”

Together, the four let the rhythm build, overlapping lines, their hunger shaping into a chant that echoed through the empty park.

“Hungry, hungry, can’t you see,
Pizza man’s the MVP.
Hot and ready, crust divine,
Drop it quick, the cash is mine.”

A few feet away on a wooden bench sat the payment. A stack of bills was pinned under a stone so the wind wouldn’t take it. The shadows kept their eyes on it, making sure the deal was clear. Money for food, nothing more, nothing less.

[Shazam] Ch: 22 [Glitter, flame, ice... Shadow?!]

John, Harley, and Maureen were suited up. Nothing flashy, just practical. Tactical black pants and jackets, plus masks. They looked ready to kick someone's ass.

Harley's mask was the standout, though. A scream mask, its white face twisted into an expression of eternal terror. It was simple, sure, but effective. It wasn't some piece of high-tech, stealthy espionage gear. No, it looked like something out of a low-budget horror flick. But that was Harley's style: a touch of flair, with a dash of "what the hell" thrown in.

Some might ask... Where did they get those tactical suits and masks?

Funny story.

Apparently, Harley had "liberated" it from a drug cartel. How? Well, first she had tossed a bunch of stink grenades into their base—no, not the cheap kind from a novelty shop, the serious, hardcore ones she bought when they first rolled into Dakota City. Then she had, quite literally, blasted their heads off with her signature baseball bat. She didn't kill them, just hit them hard enough to give them a concussion. She then stole their money, clothes, shoes, even sunglasses... In short, everything that was of value inside that base, including the coffee machine.

Oh, and the bikes. Yeah, she stole three of them. Super bikes. The kind that looked like they could outrun an entire police squad, if needed. Of course, she didn't ask for permission. She just saw them and thought, "Mine now. No... Our now."

There was a big truck in the warehouse where she found those bikes and loaded it up with all the stolen items and bikes, then drove off. 

"Don't ask how I got the stink grenades," Harley had said earlier while tossing a bundle of them into her backpack. "When you roll into Dakota City, you gotta be prepared for everything. Including weirdos who might be armed with hot sauce and are definitely not playing by the rules."

John raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. It was Harley, after all.

"How did you even—" Maureen began, glancing at the new bikes, "Where did you find those?" She can't ride. So, she rode with Harley. Harley promised to teach her how to ride like a pro.

"Well, when you're a woman of many talents," Harley said with a mischievous grin, "you can get anything from stink bombs to rocket launchers."

Maureen could've sworn she saw a glimmer of mischief in John's eyes too, but she couldn't quite figure out if it was a joke or a warning.

In any case, the three were suited up and ready.

[Present time]

Harley had hacked into the local police radio earlier in the day, and now, under the cover of night, they were camped out in a narrow alley near the Eastern Mall. According to the news reports, Hotstreak had a habit of selecting locations with a history of high sales or new stock arrivals. The Eastern Mall was prime real estate for arson. The chances of Hotstreak stealing and burning down that mall were sitting at a solid 90 percent.

"So, who's excited?" Harley asked, bouncing on her heels and swinging her baseball bat in the air. The flickering streetlight above them made her look like she was constantly about to explode into some ridiculous action sequence. And maybe she was.

Maureen couldn't help but tug on the edges of her jacket, adjusting it nervously.

"I think I'm more nervous than excited," she admitted, looking at the Mall. "But I'm ready."

Suddenly, a streak of fire shot across the night sky before it slammed into the pavement with a loud crash. Hotstreak had arrived, and he wasted no time making an entrance.

"Here we go," John muttered, already moving.

Harley, never one to waste an opportunity, was the first to spring into action. With a wild grin on her face, she grabbed the glitter grenade from her backpack and threw it. The grenade hit the pavement in front of Hotstreak, exploding in a burst of sparkling glitter that sparkled like fireworks and filled the air with blinding light.

For a split second, Hotstreak was disoriented, his eyes squinting in surprise as the glitter rained down on him. "What the fuck is this shit? Arrkkk! It's everywhere!" He stumbled back, growling, trying to blink the bright lights out of his vision. But it didn't last long.

Harley didn't waste any time. She swooped low and slammed the bat's handle on his toes, multiple times.

"Arggg! My fucking toes!" Hotstreak let out a shriek of pain, hopping back on one foot. He might've been fire-wielding chaos incarnate, but even he wasn't immune to a good toe smash.

"Ha!" Harley laughed, striking another blow to his foot before landing a brutal punch square in his groin. "Special move: Nut cracker! Hiyaaa..."

"OOOH!" Hotstreak howled, doubled over in pain. He was so distracted that he didn't even realize Maureen and John had entered the fray until it was too late.

Both of them looked at the situation and weren't sure of who to help. John's left eye twitched under his mask as he watched Harley kicking Hotstreak as he rolled on the ground, grabbing his crotch. 

"So, this wasn't the plan..." Maureen mumbled.

"Nope," John agreed. "But you'd better get ready. That won't keep that brat down for much longer. The angrier he gets, the unstable his power becomes."

Hotstreak roared as he somewhat recovered from the assault on his toes, though his groin was still throbbing... And in a flash, he twisted his body, releasing an explosive blast of fire in all directions. The air around him shimmered with intense heat, warping the world into a mirage.

"Oopsy daisy!" Harley, already well-practiced in the art of dodging insanity, backflipped twice, her scream mask flying in the air like some nightmarish flag. She landed effortlessly on her feet, immediately doing a dramatic spin on her toes like she was on a Broadway stage before rushing toward John and Maureen.

"He's all yours, Bluebell!" Harley shouted, her voice dripping with excitement. "Go show this fire-spitter what real heat looks like! Wait! No, not heat. Ice."

John, ever the realist, patted Maureen’s back. "Don't hold back," he said, his tone serious but encouraging. "You’ve got this."

Maureen glanced at the firestorm Hotstreak had just unleashed, feeling her heart rate skyrocket. She clenched her fists, the energy inside her swelling. The temperature around the place lowered rapidly. She had to push her nerves aside, focus on her power, and make sure she didn’t let it slip out of control. This was her moment.

"Well, look at this, we got a damn smurf in the fight!" Hotstreak sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. He noticed her exposed blue hands. "What, you think you're gonna stop me with that little ice power of yours? Cute. Real cute."

Maureen’s eyes narrowed. There was no way she was going to let that slide. She clenched her fists, the frost building on her palms. Her skin tingled with the rising cold. "No one is allowed to call me names," she muttered under her breath, the ice forming in her hands. "But Harley."

Before Hotstreak could react, she shot a bolt of ice at him, the blast traveling like a jagged arrow. He barely had time to react before the stream of freezing power collided with his chest.

“Whoa, what the hell!” Hotstreak howled as the ice cracked along his body, the shock of cold making him stumble back. But he quickly recovered, flame bursting from his hands as he let out a snarl. “Oh, you’re asking for it now, Smurfette!”

“I think she just told you where to shove that attitude, Hothead!” Harley piped up, her voice ringing out like she was calling the shots in a wrestling match. She had taken up her usual post on the side, twirling her baseball bat like she was ready for a grand finale. “And trust me, that ice blast? Only the beginning! Wait for the real snowstorm!”

Hotstreak spat, his fire flaring higher. “You think I’m scared of a little frostbite? I’m fire incarnate, you overgrown snow cone!”

Maureen didn’t hesitate. With a roar, she thrust her hands forward and released another blast of ice so intense it hissed as it met the air. A sheet of frost shot forward, aiming straight for Hotstreak’s feet.

“Not today, punk!” Hotstreak growled, trying to leap out of the way, but the ice tracked him, freezing his legs to the ground. His fiery aura intensified in a desperate bid to melt the ice, but it was too late. Maureen didn’t give him a second to breathe.

“You might wanna start cooling off,” she shot back, her voice cool as a winter morning.

With a speed that surprised even herself, Maureen slid to the side, launching an icy whip from her hand. It cracked through the air like a chain of frost and caught Hotstreak by the neck, yanking him to the ground. He crashed with a painful thud, flames sputtering in all directions as he struggled to get up.

“Hotsteak, you better pay attention,” Harley sang from the sidelines, tossing her bat into the air and catching it like a circus performer. “You’re getting out-iced here. And if you don’t stop that, it might be the last time you ever roast anyone with your little tantrums.”

Hotstreak growled, his body buckling under the pressure of the freezing chain that held him down. His fiery form flickered, but he had enough firepower to ignite himself once again, burning the ice off his legs. “You really think you’ve got me, Ice Princess?” he sneered, his hands seething with fire as he stood up, flames crackling from his body like a furnace.

Maureen wasn’t about to give him an opening. As his flames flared up, she slammed her hands together and summoned an explosion of ice spikes that shot up from the ground like jagged mountains. Hotstreak barely had time to dodge, but a few of the icy projectiles scraped across his arms, leaving frostbite-like burns where they touched.

"Ouch!" he hissed, stepping back quickly. “Okay, that’s it. You really want to play hardball?"

“I’m not playing,” Maureen shot back. She raised both hands to the sky, summoning a blizzard, swirling around them like a miniature snowstorm. Ice and snow whirled like a cyclone, obscuring Hotstreak's vision.

“Holy shit!” Hotstreak screamed, flailing around in the storm of frost. “What kind of circus is this?”

"Just the good kind," Harley cheered. “She’s got him in a frosty situation now, folks! Who’s ready for the next round of this? Cause I’m thinking—Maureen’s about to turn this heatwave into a chill fest!”

Hotstreak staggered through the storm, his fire flickering erratically as the ice made it harder for him to keep his flame stable. He let out a frustrated scream. “That’s it. No more games!” He thrust his hands forward, releasing an explosion of heat that sent a wave of fire toward her.

But Maureen had no intention of giving him the chance. As the fire raced toward her, she froze the moisture in the air, extinguishing the fire in midair. But Hotstreak wasn't done. He sent out multiple blasts of flames through the blizzard, but it was all useless as Maureen extinguished them with ease.

And then, as Hotstreak’s fiery blasts began to sputter and grow weaker. The cold has seeped into his body, interfering with his power. He tried to summon more flames, but couldn't feel anything but cold. His eyes were burning from excessive cold, and his mouth was parched. He even got a couple of frostbites.

"Fuck it!" He could barely speak.

Maureen saw her opening.

She slammed her palms down hard on the pavement, and the ice responded. It surged outward from her touch, covering the ground beneath her, reaching up to encase Hotstreak in a freezing tomb. In the blink of an eye, the once-invincible firestarter found himself trapped, his arms and legs frozen stiff in jagged sheets of ice.

"Well," Harley drawled from the sidelines, twirling her bat like she was in the middle of a dance routine, "I think we found Hotstreak’s weakness. Frostbite."

Hotstreak struggled against the ice, but it was useless.

"This... this is bullshit!" Hotstreak howled, his flames flickering like a dying ember. "You can't just trap me in here like some... some popsicle!"

Maureen stood tall, her breath visible in the frigid air. "Yeah, well, I can't let you destroy my new home."

"Okay," Harley said, taking a few steps closer, her grin wide as ever, "we’ve got ourselves a frozen fire hazard. Now... Huh?!" She narrowed her eyes. 

Out of nowhere, a pitch black shadow appeared before Hotstreak. An eerie voice came from it. "Looks like you could use a hand." Then it wrapped around Hotstreak's ice cage like shadow whips and then pulled him into the ground.

The trio rushed, and there was nothing...

"Teleportation," John mumbled. "Another Bang Baby, huh?" He tried to remember his old memories from the Static Shock series, but most of it was hazy. Like he was a kid when he saw the animated series. But he remembers this annoying shadowy freak of nature... Ebon.

"Argggg! Darn you!" Harley yelled, slamming her bat on the ground. "Now, how the hell am I going to get my reward and free parking tickets? GIVE ME BACK MY HOTSTEAK!"

John patted Maureen's back and said, "You did great. He won't be annoying anyone for a long time." 

"Let's get out of here before the cops arrive and misunderstand this situation," John said as he grabbed Harley and put her up on his shoulder. He knew that she was going to yell and curse on that spot and might even dig a hole just to check if there was an underground bunker there. So, the sensible thing to do at that moment was to carry her, like a sack of potatoes, instead of calming her down.

Harley kicked her legs back and forth, her voice rising in frustration. "Seriously?! Who the hell invited Mr. Shadowy McTeleportation over here?" she grumbled, smacking John's back with her free hand. "I was this close to getting my parking tickets and maybe even some sweet, sweet pizza after this. And now, poof! Gone! All because of some freak in a cloak!"

"Calm down, we'll get him someday," John said.

"It's alright, we'll get him next time," Maureen said, clenching her fist. 

"Haaa..." Harley let out a long sigh. "My broken dreams..." She made a mental note to smash that shadowy creature's nuts with a barbed-wire zombie killer baseball bat. "One day..."

---

AN: This is it for Silver tier for now. Next 5 chs will be for gold tier.

[Ironman] Ch: 159 [The White Queen’s Gambit]

[New York City] [Late Night]

The bar smelled of booze, cigarettes, sweat of men who clearly hadn't bothered with a shower in a while, and cheap beer that had long since soaked deep into the floorboards. It was a small place in downtown, squeezed in between a laundromat and a pawn shop, the kind of spot where the regulars drop by to drink their savings away and try to forget about their troubles back home. 

Frank Castle was sitting over at the far end of the bar, slowly sipping at a glass of whiskey that was mostly water. Tonight, he wasn't wearing his tactical gear or Kevlar... Just casual clothes, a black jacket, and jeans, looking like another guy looking for a bit of peace and quiet. His eyes were fixed on the mirror behind the bar, taking everything in without so much as turning his head.

The waitress, a girl who couldn't have been more than twenty-two, moved between tables with a fake smile plastered on her face. She was a brunette, with tired eyes that had already learned to stop expecting kindness. Every time she passed a certain booth, the men sitting there reached out, touching her inappropriately.

Five of them. All mid-thirties to forties, work shirts unbuttoned, sleeves rolled, tattoos creeping up their arms. The kind of men who looked like they'd been fired from construction sites for fighting. Their laughter was loud, forcing everyone else in the bar to hear them.

The tallest, a bald slab of muscle with a jaw like cinder block, slapped the waitress on the backside as she tried to slide by. She stiffened, forced another smile, and kept moving. The table roared with laughter.

Frank's jaw flexed. He didn't turn, didn't raise his voice. He simply spoke, his words low and even, but loud enough to carry.

"Don't touch her again."

The laughter cut short. All eyes turned toward the bar. The bald one leaned forward, grin splitting across his thick face.

"The hell you say?"

Frank didn't look at him. He took a sip of his whiskey and set the glass down carefully.

"I said keep your hands off her."

The waitress froze mid-step, tray shaking in her hands. The bartender lowered his eyes and kept polishing a glass. Nobody else moved.

The bald one stood, his chair scraping against the floor. He walked behind Frank, close enough that Frank could smell the cheap cologne and stale beer on his breath. A mug of beer sloshed in his hand.

"You got a big mouth, old man," Baldy said, voice dripping with mockery. "Maybe you need a wash."

The mug tilted. Beer poured over Frank's head, cold and sticky, running down his jacket. The table burst into laughter again.

Frank didn't laugh. He didn't move. Then, suddenly, he did.

His elbow shot backward with the precision of a piston.

Crack! Bone cracked loud as a gunshot. Baldy's nose exploded in blood, cartilage folding sideways. "ARGGGG!!!" He screamed, clutching his face, stumbling back.

Frank grabbed the mug still in Baldy's hand, wrenched it free, and swung it in a sharp arc. Clank! Glass shattered across Baldy's ruined nose. Blood mixed with beer as the man dropped, moaning, hands slick with red.

The other four surged to their feet. Chairs toppled.

Frank rose slowly, rolling his shoulders, his expression flat.

"Bad choice."

The first came fast, swinging a bottle. Frank stepped in, parried the strike with his forearm, and buried a fist into the man's stomach. "OOF!" Air rushed out of him like a punctured tire. Before he could double over, Frank yanked his head down and slammed a knee into his face. CRUNCH! Teeth snapped. Blood sprayed the floor. The man screamed, muffled through broken lips.

The second lunged with a barstool, swinging wide. Frank pivoted, letting the stool whistle past his ribs, then stepped in close. His palm shot out. THWACK! Right into the man's throat. The wet crack of crushed cartilage echoed. The man gagged violently, choking, hands clawing at his neck.

The third was behind him, pool cue raised. WHACK! The stick smacked across Frank's shoulder, splintering wood. Frank caught the broken cue mid-swing, ripped it from the man's grip, and rammed the jagged end into his thigh.

SHUNK!

"ARGGGG!! MOTHERFUCKING LUNATIC!"

The scream that followed was high-pitched and raw, the man collapsing, scrabbling at the stick protruding from his leg.

The fourth hesitated, knife glinting in his hand. He circled, breathing heavy, eyes flicking between his friends writhing on the ground and Frank standing in their midst like a storm.

"Walk away," Frank said, voice calm.

The man lunged instead, knife thrust forward. Frank caught his wrist and twisted hard. SNAP! The bone gave way like kindling. "Heeekkk!" The man shrieked, knife clattering to the floor.

"Arggg!" Frank smashed his forehead into his nose.

CRACK!

"Gaahhhh!" Another scream, cut short when Frank spun him, hooked an arm around his neck, and yanked back. The choke held tight. "Kugghh!" Three seconds later, the fight drained out of him. His body went limp.

Silence crashed over the bar. Only the groans of broken men filled the air.

Frank stood tall, chest heaving once, then steady again. He grabbed a napkin from the bar, wiped beer from his face, and tossed it on the counter.

The bald one was still alive, crawling toward the door, blood streaming down his face. Frank walked over and planted a boot between his shoulder blades, pinning him to the floor.

"You don't touch women. You don't use fear to feel big. You don't get second warnings."

Baldy wheezed beneath him, gurgling through the blood.

Frank crouched low, whispering in his ear.

"You remember this beating. You carry it every time you think about putting your hands on someone who can't fight back. You so much as look at her wrong again, I'll finish what I started. I'll break every single bone in your body and then I'll bury you alive."

He stood up and kicked the baldy one last time. The man gasped, scrambling out the door, leaving a trail of blood behind.

Frank turned back to the others. Two were unconscious, one choking, another whimpering as he pulled the cue from his leg. He ignored them. His eyes found the waitress, still frozen by the bar, tray clutched in both hands.

"You alright?" he asked, voice soft now.

She blinked, nodded quickly. She was stunned by the violent beatdown, but was glad. Those bastards deserved that beating.

Frank tossed a handful of bills on the counter. "For the mess." Then he walked out.

...

[Outside the Bar]

Frank stepped out of the bar and was about to disappear into the city, but he stopped when he saw it. A black BMW parked at the curb. The back door stood open like an invitation he didn’t want.

Inside, a woman sat waiting. White dress, diamond necklace that probably cost more than the bar he had just left, blonde hair, and white heels. 

Emma Frost. The White Queen.

'What the hell is she doing here?' Frank wondered.

Frank’s eyes narrowed. He saw the news and heard the whispers. Shaw was dead. She had taken over the Hellfire Club and was carving her way through the criminal underworld piece by piece. And now she was here.

He didn’t waste time pretending he had a choice. When someone like her shows up in your path, you either get in the car or you get buried. Frank walked forward, boots crunching against broken glass on the sidewalk, and slid into the back seat.

“What do you want from me, White Queen?” He asked.

Emma smiled, faint and cold. She crossed one leg over the other, fingers laced lightly in her lap.

“Straight to business. I do appreciate that in a man. Saves us both from wasting time.”

Frank didn’t blink. “Talk.”

Emma tilted her head slightly, studying him like he was an interesting piece of art. “You’ve been busy tonight. Five men in a bar. One with a shattered nose, another with a collapsed trachea, a third bleeding out on a pool table... Tell me, Frank, does it ever get dull?”

He didn’t flinch. “You didn’t pull me out here to talk about my hobbies.”

Emma smiled before saying, "I want you to work for me."

Frank replied, "I don't work with crime lords."

“Oh, you will work for me, Frank. Not because you want to. But because you need what I have.” 

“I don’t need a damn thing from you.”

Her smile widened slightly, patient, like a teacher humoring a stubborn child. “Frank, I know you’ve gutted half the underworld over the years. Every man who touched your family is in the ground because of you. But tell me something… did you ever find him? Did you ever get to the one who matters?”

Frank stayed silent.

Emma continued. “The Owl. Real name. Real face. Where he hides. The man who pulled strings and made sure the system failed you. You’ve been chasing shadows for five years, and you’re no closer to him than you were the night your family bled out in that park.”

“Keep talking,” Frank growled, voice low.

“I can give you that trail. I can hand you the Owl’s true location, his network, his safehouses. Everything you’ve been bleeding for.” Emma’s tone was almost gentle, like she was offering a gift. “All I ask in return is simple. You and I… cleanse the board together. Every head of every crime family. Removed. Permanently. The filth of this city carved out root and stem.”

Frank’s eyes locked on hers. There was no trust in them. Only calculation.

“You’re not asking me to cleanse the underworld. You’re asking me to clear it out so you can take the throne.”

Emma didn’t blink. “Of course I am. Why lie about it? This world runs on power, Frank. Someone will always sit at the top. Better it be someone who can actually control it… rather than some slobbering animal with a trigger finger. You hate criminals? Good. So does my boss. I’m going to kill them, and I want you to help me do it. The difference is, when I sit on their ashes, I’ll make sure the rot doesn’t grow back.”

"Your boss?" He asked, surprised.

She let the pause hang in the air before replying. “Tony Stark.”

Frank’s eyes narrowed. He almost laughed, but it came out more like a scoff. “Stark doesn’t play mob boss.”

Emma leaned back. “He doesn’t need to. He’s playing the long game. The politicians, the agencies, the charities—he’s rewriting the rules of the world. But to do that, he needs the rot in the streets burned out. That’s my job. And now… it’s yours.”

Frank sat back against the seat, silent for a long moment. His mind ran through everything he’d seen on the news these past months. Stark dismantling human and mutant experiment labs. Putting S.H.I.E.L.D. back on the map again. Stopping alien invasion and Sublime. The man didn’t just talk about fixing the world. He did it.

And in his wake, crime had plummeted. Whole neighborhoods rebuilt. Veterans and the homeless are given jobs and homes. Kids pulled off the streets before gangs could sink their hooks in. Free treatment, medicine, jobs, education... A stable life that stopped them from turning to crime. All the things Frank had fought for in his own way, Stark had managed to put into motion on a global scale.

If Stark was behind Emma, this wasn’t just another turf war. This was a purge.

Emma’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Stark gives me The Hand. I give him a cleansed underworld. And you, Frank… you get what you’ve wanted from the beginning. A clear shot at the men who think they’re untouchable and your revenge.”

Frank leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He studied her like a man deciding whether to put a bullet between her eyes or hear her out. Finally, he spoke, his voice low.

“Point me at the target.”

Emma’s smile widened, just slightly. She reached into her clutch and slid a folded dossier across the seat.

“The first is small, but symbolic,” Emma said. “A warehouse in Brooklyn. Drugs, guns, trafficking. The kind of filth that spreads like mold. Take it out, make a mess, send a message. Let the city know the Punisher is back on the board… and that the rules are about to change.”

Frank picked up the dossier and tucked it into his jacket.

"Happy hunting, Castle."

---

[Manhattan, Same Night]

Virginia “Pepper” Potts sat cross-legged on the small couch in her one-bedroom apartment. The sound of traffic bled in through the thin windows, mixing with the faint clatter of pipes in the walls. She had graduated only three months ago with a degree in Business Administration, and reality was hitting fast. Rent was high, bills piled up, and the city did not wait for anyone to catch their breath.

Her laptop screen glowed in the dim light. She had been scrolling through job boards for hours; most postings were either scams, unpaid internships, or “entry-level” positions demanding five years of experience. Her coffee had gone cold on the table beside her.

Finally, she landed on the Stark Industries website. The interface and bold logo at the top of the page felt almost intimidating, like staring at the future itself. She clicked on the “Careers” tab. The listings appeared one by one. Engineers, programmers, logistics managers… jobs she knew she wasn’t qualified for.

Then she saw it.

Administrative Assistant.

Pepper sat up straighter. The description was straightforward: scheduling, filing, handling communication, preparing reports, supporting executive staff.

"Well, nothing I can't handle," She mumbled to herself.

Her pulse picked up. It was Stark Industries. The kind of job that could change her life overnight if she managed to land it. She clicked “Apply.”

The online form was long, but she filled it carefully. Name, education, past internships, references. She double-checked every field, reread her answers twice before hitting submit.

The screen flashed: Application Received. Thank you for applying to Stark Industries.

Pepper exhaled, leaning back against the couch.

"Gotta give it my all or live in one of those homeless shelters."

Note

Sorry for the delay of Ironman chs. I'll upload the next chapter around noon. We will see a fan favourite character making an appearance.
Saving the smut for the next next chapter.

[Shazam] Ch: 21 [Glitter Bombs and Grocery Bags]

The week after the Winston Bank explosion, Dakota City had been plastered with headlines about one man. Francis Stone, better known by the street name Hotstreak, burned his way across half the city. Gas stations, jewelry stores, even a police cruiser or two. He seemed to light things on fire for fun, tossing flames around just to hear people scream.

Every night, the news replayed the same shaky phone videos. Francis laughing with that cocky grin, his hands glowing like molten iron, cops ducking behind cars while fire hydrants sprayed steam into the air. Static had confronted him once, and for about two minutes. The fight ended with Hotstreak blasting Static before flying away while mocking him.

The city was rattled. Every corner shop and bodega was bracing for the day Hotstreak might walk in with flames on his palms.

[Apartment above J&H Pizza] 

Harley was sprawled upside down on the couch, her legs hooked over the backrest and her pigtails dragging the carpet. She had a bowl of popcorn balanced dangerously on her stomach.

“Well, ain’t that a flaming meatball. Guy’s been torchin’ half the city for a week, and no one’s gotten him yet? C’mon! What’s the point of havin’ cops if they ain’t gonna play firefighter with attitude?” She stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth, then pointed at the screen. “I say we catch this hot potato and cash in on a fat reward. The mayor’s gotta be dangling money for this nutjob. Or the cops. Somebody’s gotta cough up a reward for takin’ down Mister Matchstick."

John was sitting on the couch. He arched an eyebrow. “A reward. You think the city of Dakota has money sitting around to pay vigilantes?”

“Hey, don’t crush the dream before it gets juicy,” Harley shot back, twisting upright and landing on her feet in one smooth roll. She even managed to catch the popcorn bowl. She placed the bowl on the table and planted her fists on her hips. “Bluebell here’s got ice. All she’s gotta do is turn Hotsteak into a popsicle. Bing bang boom, we win.”

Maureen blinked, caught off guard. “You want me to… turn him into a popsicle?”

“Yeah!” Harley replied. “C’mon, you got the cold thing, he’s got the hot thing. It’s like cosmic balance or whatever. Plus, if Hotsteak's locked up, less chance he decides to barbecue our storefront. That neon sign ain’t cheap.”

Maureen said softly as usual. “It’s Hotstreak.”

“Hotsteak, Hotpot, Hotcrossbun, whatever.” Harley waved a hand. “Point is, he’s roastin’ half the town and nobody’s stoppin’ him for good. We swoop in, save the day, cash in.”

John finally leaned back, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“As much as I hate agreeing with her, she might have a point. If that freak throws a fireball in here, our shop goes up in smoke. Then I have to deal with insurance paperwork.” He looked at Harley with deadpan seriousness. “Insurance is worse than war. At least in war, you see the bullet coming. With insurance, you fill out twenty forms, wait six months, and argue with some jackass on the phone about ‘acts of god’ versus ‘criminal mischief,’ and still get denied. It’s like trying to claim life insurance without dying."

Maureen blinked. “That’s… the comparison you’re worried about?”

“Yes,” John said flatly. “Paperwork is hell.”

Harley clapped her hands again, this time spinning toward John with a grin so wide it nearly split her face. “Oh my god. We should totally do it. We could be like… vigilantes. Fightin’ crime in the shadows at night, slingin’ pizzas in the morning. It’s perfect! Just like Batman, except way cooler and with better carbs.”

Maureen blinked at her. “You want to be like Batman?”

“Damn right I am,” Harley said, pointing dramatically toward the window like a director calling ‘action.’ “Only difference is we don’t brood on gargoyles all night. We fight crime, we cash checks, and we still make it back in time to prep dough for the lunch rush. Gotham’s got Batman. Dakota’s about to get…”

She paused, tapping her chin. “What’s a good team name? The Pizza Patrol? The Mozzarella Mob? Eh, we’ll workshop it. Oh, we'll also need a cool signal in the sky. Instead of a bat, maybe a giant pizza slice. People’ll look up and go, ‘Oh thank god, the Pizza Vigilantes are comin’!’ She spread her arms dramatically. “Justice served with extra cheese.”

John rubbed his temple. “I regret opening my mouth.”

Maureen tried not to laugh, but it slipped out. “Pizza Vigilantes?”

“Yeah! Temporary name for now,” Harley pointed at her like she’d just passed a test. “You’d be the Ice Queen of the crew. Freeze-dry Fireboy before he melts the city. Me? I’m the brains and muscle and style and comedic relief. Ok, too many 'ands'. And John—well, John’s our brooding boss who growls a lot but secretly cares. He'll be our ultimate trump card who'll step in when we are half head.”

John muttered, “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“Nightmare that pays,” Harley shot back. “Think about it. We kick Hotsteak’s butt, the city calls us heroes, we continue to take down more baddies and maybe we get medals. Or coupons. Or maybe we finally get that soda machine fixed without me havin’ to bang it with a wrench.”

Maureen shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure this is… normal.”

“Sweetie, normal is overrated. I mean, you freeze things with your hands. He sets things on fire with his. You two were literally made to fight. It’s destiny. Like peanut butter and jelly, only with more property damage.”

John leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Destiny or not, Harley’s right about one thing. If we don’t deal with him, eventually he’ll find his way here. Then it won’t just be about headlines. It’ll be about survival. Ovens, freezers, stock, all gone in a second. We’d be out on the street.”

Maureen shook her head, "I'll do my best."

Harley clapped her hands together. “Alright then. It’s settled. We’re gonna track down Hotcrossbun and turn him into a campfire story. John can handle the punching, Bluebell can handle the freezing, and I’ll handle the public relations. I’m real good at quotin’ stuff for reporters.”

"Weren't you the muscle?" Maureen said with a raised eyebrow.

"Details," Harley grinned.

John gave her a flat look. “Virginites and reporters don't mix well.”

“Don’t be such a buzzkill. This is gonna be fun! We'll be wearing masks,” Harley walked around like a general giving orders. “First things first. Outfits. Every good vigilante crew’s gotta have a look. I’m thinkin’ leather jackets. Maybe matching masks. And utility belts. Definitely utility belts. Mine’s gonna have glitter bombs.”

Maureen lifted a brow. “Glitter bombs?”

“Distraction, duh. No one expects a face full of sparkle.”

John took a deep breath. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly. We find him, we stop him, take him to the cops, and collect the reward if there is any. Then we get out before anyone links it back here.”

Harley groaned. “Ugh, you’re no fun. You’d go to Disneyland and lecture Mickey Mouse about tax codes.”

Maureen bit her lip, then spoke carefully. “If… if I help you, it’s not for rewards. I don’t care about money. I just… maybe it’d be good to use my powers for something better than…” Her words trailed off, but Harley caught the look in her eyes.

Harley softened a little, stepping close and nudging her shoulder. “Hey. Don’t sweat it. We all got our pasts. Right now, you got a chance to do somethin’ different. Freeze the bad guy, save the good guys. It’s like redemption, but with extra mozzarella.”

Maureen let out a real laugh. It was small, but it wasn’t bitter.

John grabbed his jacket from the chair. “We start tomorrow.”

Harley snapped her fingers like she was sealing the plan. “Then it’s official. The Pizza Vigilantes are open for business. Our motto: we deliver justice in thirty minutes or less.”

---

[Dakota Mall – Morning]

The sliding glass doors parted, and Dakota Mall greeted them with air-conditioned chill and the faint scent of pretzels. A pop song blared faintly overhead. Families pushed strollers. Teenagers clutched shopping bags like trophies.

Maureen hesitated at the threshold, hugging the sleeves of Harley’s loaner hoodie tighter. The hoodie was pink, covered in glittery cartoon cats. Not really her style.

“This feels… strange,” she admitted softly.

Harley looped her arm around Maureen’s shoulders and tugged her forward. “Strange? Honey, this is paradise! Behold! A whole cathedral of capitalism, where dreams come true if you’ve got the cash. Lucky for you, Daddy Warbucks here brought the wallet.” She jerked her thumb toward John.

John sighed. “Stop calling me that.”

“Fine. Sugar Dad—”

“Finish that sentence and you’re walking home,” John said without looking at her.

Maureen tried to hide her laugh.

Harley grinned and whispered to her, “Totally worth it. He gets this little vein in his forehead when he’s cranky. Love it.”

John ignored them both and strode ahead like a man on a mission.

“Alright,” he said. “We’re buying everything you need. Clothes, shoes, winter coat, maybe a phone. Whatever you’re missing. We’re doing it all today so I don’t have to be dragged back here every week.”

“Clothes are fine,” Maureen said quickly. “I don’t need much.”

Harley spun on her heel and pointed dramatically. “Incorrect! Girl, you’ve been raiding my closet for weeks. You’ve got, like, two shirts and one pair of jeans to your name. That’s not a wardrobe. That’s a hostage situation. We’re liberating you.”

Maureen opened her mouth to argue, but Harley was already marching toward the first store like a general storming the front lines.

[First Stop: Clothing Store]

The store was a bright, modern space with racks of denim and mannequins in crop tops. Pop music thumped.

Harley dived in headfirst. She began yanking hangers left and right, piling Maureen’s arms with everything from leather jackets to sundresses. “Try this. And this. And oh my god, this would look killer on you.”

Maureen blinked at the growing mountain of fabric. “I… don’t usually wear expensive dresses.”

“Exactly! That’s why you gotta try one. Expand your horizons. C’mon, live a little. Don’t make me start singing songs about leaving your comfort zone.”

John trailed behind, hands in his pockets, looking like a soldier in enemy territory. He surveyed a rack of ripped jeans with deep suspicion.

A clerk approached him. “Can I help you find something?”

“Yes,” John said deadpan. “The exit.”

The clerk blinked, then quickly retreated.

Harley shoved a pile of clothes into Maureen’s arms and steered her toward the fitting rooms. “Alright, Bluebell, it’s makeover time.”

Maureen emerged ten minutes later in a dark green sweater dress. She tugged at the hem, cheeks flushed. “This feels… weird.”

Harley gasped like she’d just witnessed the birth of a star. “Weird? Sweetie, you look like you stepped out of a magazine. John, back me up.”

John looked up from the rack of jackets he was pretending to inspect. His eyes flicked over Maureen once. “It suits you.”

Maureen’s face went pink. She ducked back into the fitting room.

Harley elbowed John. “Could you be any less dramatic? You’re supposed to say something like, ‘Wow, you look amazing, Maureen! Let’s buy ten of those.’ Not ‘it suits you’ like you’re picking wallpaper.”

John gave her a flat look. “I don’t do pep talks. I said it works. That should be enough.”

Harley rolled her eyes. “He’s hopeless. Anyway, Bluebell, try the jeans next!”

[An Hour Later]

By the time they staggered out of the store, John was carrying three bags in each hand, Harley had two more slung over her shoulder, and Maureen looked dazed.

“I don’t know if I need all this,” Maureen murmured.

“You do,” John said. “End of discussion.”

“Also,” Harley added, “you look smokin’ in half of it. Don’t argue with results.”

Maureen smiled shyly, the kind of smile that looked rare on her.

[Second Stop: Shoes]

The shoe store was chaos. Shelves stacked high, teenagers arguing about sneakers, a kid trying on shoes two sizes too big.

Harley immediately ran to a display of sequined boots. “Oh my god. These scream Harley Quinn. Should I get ‘em?”

“No,” John said automatically.

“You didn’t even look!”

“I don’t need to look.”

Meanwhile, Maureen tried on a pair of black ankle boots. She walked a few steps, wobbling slightly. “These are… nice, but maybe too fancy.”

Harley crouched dramatically, clutching her heart. “Too fancy? Girl, you deserve fancy. After everything you’ve been through, you should be strutting like a runway model.”

John inspected the boots with a soldier’s eye. “Good grip. Solid heel. Practical.”

Maureen blinked. “So… we’re buying them?”

“Yes,” John said.

“See? He approves!” Harley crowed. “If Mister Broodypants approves, it’s destiny. Buy them!”

They left with two boxes of boots and a pair of sneakers John insisted on.

[Third Stop: Essentials]

John dragged them into a department store next. He grabbed socks, jackets, toiletries, phone and a winter coat, piling them into the cart with military efficiency.

“Uh, John?” Harley asked. “You’re shopping like you’re provisioning an army.”

“That’s the point,” he said. “She shouldn’t have to worry about this for months. One trip. Done.”

Maureen looked overwhelmed, but there was a faint glow in her eyes. No one had ever stocked her life like this before.

[Lunch Break – Food Court]

The three of them finally collapsed at a table in the mall’s food court. Harley had a tray stacked with nachos, pizza slices, and a milkshake taller than her head.

Maureen had a modest chicken sandwich. John had black coffee and a burger.

“Alright,” Harley said with her mouth full, “we officially survived the Mall Wars. How ya feelin’, Bluebell? Enlightened? Reborn? Like Cinderella after the fairy godmother intervention?”

Maureen smiled faintly. “More like… overwhelmed. But… in a good way.”

John sipped his coffee. “You’ll get used to it. Everyone deserves stability.”

Harley pointed her straw at him. “Aww, look at you. Mister Softheart pretending he’s still Mister Scary. You’re basically a teddy bear with anger issues.”

John deadpanned. “I could strangle you with this straw.”

“See? That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Harley laughed.

Maureen covered her mouth, hiding her laugh behind her sandwich.

Harley leaned closer to her. “So, which outfit’s your favorite? The green dress? The leather jacket? Or those jeans that made John’s eye twitch like he was tryin’ not to compliment you?”

Maureen turned red. “I don’t… I don’t know. Maybe the jacket.”

Harley grinned like she’d just won the lottery. “Knew it. Classic cool girl vibes. With your ice powers? Chef’s kiss.”

[Later – Back at the Apartment]

By the time they got home, arms full of bags, Maureen looked like she’d just run a marathon. She sat on the couch surrounded by her new things, touching the soft fabric like she didn’t believe it was real.

Harley plopped down beside her. “See? Told ya it’d be fun. You’re officially upgraded.”

John set the last bag down. “Remember: these aren’t luxuries. They’re essentials. Don’t feel guilty using them.”

Maureen looked at him, then at Harley, then back at the pile of clothes. For the first time since they’d taken her in, her smile wasn’t small or shy. It was wide and bright.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Both of you.”

Harley threw an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t thank us yet, sweetie. Wait till we kick Hotsteak’s butt. Then you’ll really see how fun this trio can be.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s Hotstreak.”

Harley winked at Maureen. “Hotsteak forever.”

---

Next Chapter: Hotstreak vs Permafrost

[Ironman] Ch: 158 [Vacation with the Harem]

[One month later]

The stability serum worked exactly as Tony had predicted. Within days, Rogue's mutation was no longer a curse. Under Tony's direct guidance she learned how to control it, turning it on and off at will. The first time she touched skin without draining life or power, and without the suppressor, she broke into tears. 

Tony still insisted she keep the nanite bracelet. It worked as both a suppressor and a protective suit, a safeguard in case her control slipped. She didn't argue. She just wanted to wear the cool suit again and probably brag about it to Kitty and Jubilee back at school.

When the week ended, Rogue made her decision. She wanted to experience a normal life. She enrolled in college alongside Lorna and Pietro, and for the first time in years, allowed herself to imagine a future that was not defined by fear. She visited Charles' school every now and then, still tied to her friends there, but her home was now with Wanda, Lorna, and Pietro. The house Tony gifted them was more than big enough for them, and for Rogue, it was everything she thought she could never have.

Well, they are now like a happy family.

Meanwhile, the construction of the new Stark Tower pressed forward, thirty percent complete and climbing every day. With the help of his robots and drones, it'd take a couple of months to properly build it. He planned to finally leave Horizon Island and move to NY.

As for the Brotherhood. Except for Magneto and Mystique, the others were either sent to Charles's school or to prison, depending on their crimes. At the school, they would be watched, guided, and restrained when necessary. For now, they were under control.

Tony had a brief meeting with Charles over a holographic call. Charles agreed to guide them and thanked Tony for not taking any drastic action against them. He knew it was the only way forward, the only chance to reshape what once was chaos into something resembling order.

As for Emma, she took over the Hellfire Club and started to pluck out the underworld crime lords, slowly and painfully.

Then, there was Shield. They opened multiple branches all over the world and with the mutants and superhumans joining as agents, the crime rates went down rapidly over the month. This made Tony's job easier. He used his surveillance system to track down the bad guys and the agents would take them down. They destroyed nearly 300 human & mutant experiment facilities around the world. The number might seem small, but it's a start.

Moving on to Tony, he was finally ready to colonize Mars and build a base on the Moon. The technology was ready. As for the space station, it was 94% ready. 

Everything was going smoothly. 

[Sunday]

Tony decided to take a small vacation with Sue, Natasha, and Yelena. He was really exhausted and just needed a break.

...

[Iceland, Evening]

The jet touched down on the private S.H.I.E.L.D. outpost, skimming through the low mist that clung to the runway. The air outside was crisp and cool. Tony stepped out first.

“Alright, team,” He said, stretching his arms wide. “Welcome to Iceland. Land of volcanoes, hot springs, and overpriced sweaters. Try to act impressed.”

Sue followed with a small smile. “I already am. This place looks beautiful.”

Natasha came down the steps behind her, suitcase in one hand. “I’m impressed if the villa is actually as big as you promised.”

Yelena brought up the rear, hands in her pockets. “If it has food, I’m impressed.”

They got into a waiting black SUV. The ride into town took them past jagged cliffs, waterfalls tumbling in the distance, and patches of farmland dotted with Icelandic horses. Yelena pressed her forehead to the window, snapping quick pictures with her phone.

“Looks like the desktop background section on Windows,” she muttered.

“Correction,” Tony said. “This is the premium background section.”

The villa sat on the edge of a small town, half-hidden behind a ridge. When they pulled up, it looked exactly as Tony had described: modern, large glass windows, stone walls, perched above the coastline. The ocean stretched out below, waves crashing against black rock. A geothermal pool steamed in the backyard.

“Not bad,” Sue said, running her hand along the railing of the deck. “You did good.”

“I always do good,” Tony said. He dropped his bag by the door and spun around. “So, here’s the plan. We’re in vacation mode. No missions unless the world is ending or a city is about to blow up. Just normal people stuff. Step one: claim your rooms. Step two: figure out food before we starve.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t stock the fridge?”

Tony put a hand over his chest. “Excuse me, do I look like I shop for groceries? I had agents buy the property, not fill it with snacks. Besides, we’re in Iceland. We should eat local.”

“Pizza is local everywhere,” Yelena said.

They went inside and scattered through the villa, each staking out a bedroom. Tony tossed his bag onto the master suite without shame. Yelena called dibs on the one with the ocean view. Natasha picked the one closest to the stairs, habit driving her choice. Sue entered the master bedroom.

"Well, I'm gonna stay with you, unlike those two," She said with a wink before placing her suitcase near the closet.

"Saves me the time to sneak into your room in the middle of the night," Tony said with a sly smirk.

"Oh my, should I be worried?" She said, walking closer to him.

"You should," He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. "Because I'm gonna make love to you like there is no tomorrow." 

Both of them leaned forward and began kissing.

Half an hour later, they regrouped in the kitchen, which was spotless and empty. Tony opened the fridge and sighed. “Yeah, that’s on me. Nothing but bottled water and butter. Who even sells butter by itself?”

“Someone who thought you could cook,” Sue said, amused.

“I can cook,” Tony protested. “Technically. I just prefer not to.”

Yelena leaned against the counter. “Well, let's go and find a nice restaurant. I'm starving."

...

The town was small, its streets lined with shops, cafés, and restaurants that glowed warmly in the cold night. They parked and started down the main street. Yelena walked ahead, scanning menus taped to windows.

“This one,” she said, pointing at a cozy-looking place with wooden beams and a chalkboard out front. “It says lamb stew. That sounds like Iceland.”

Inside, the restaurant smelled of bread, herbs, and grilled fish. They found a table by the window. A waitress brought the menu with a smile. Sue leaned over hers, thoughtful. “It all looks good. I'll probably have the lamb chops combo.”

“I’m getting the fish,” Natasha said, setting hers down.

“Steak,” Yelena said immediately. “Extra potatoes... for appetizers."

Tony scanned the options. “I’ll try the lamb stew. If it’s terrible, I’ll buy the restaurant and fire the chef.”

The food came quickly, steaming plates that filled the table with the smell of fresh herbs and butter. Yelena ate fast, clearly starving. She ordered an entire fish dish after finishing her steak. Sue savored hers. Natasha ate steadily, not rushing. And Tony loved the food. 

After 45 minutes or so...

Tony finally sat back with a satisfied sigh. “Okay. Icelandic food gets the Stark seal of approval. That means something.”

“It means you’re full,” Natasha said dryly.

Then came the dessert... Plates of pastries and thick hot chocolate. Yelena stole bites from everyone else’s plate without shame. Sue laughed when she caught her and offered hers anyway.

On the walk back to the car, the northern lights faintly streaking the sky. They stopped in the middle of the street to look up. Green and purple waves shimmered above the rooftops.

“Wow,” Sue whispered.

"So beautiful," Yelena muttered in awe.

“Okay, that’s worth the price of the villa,” Tony said. “Nature finally did something I can’t outdo with tech.”

“Give it a week,” Natasha said.

Back at the villa, they settled in for the night. Tony lit the fireplace, the crackle filling the room as they sprawled across the couches. Sue curled up with a blanket. Natasha sipped tea. Yelena was stretched out on the rug with her phone.

Tony looked around at them, the quiet comfort sinking in. For once, there were no crises, no enemies waiting around the corner. Just warmth, food in their stomachs, and the sound of waves outside.

Yelena looked up from her phone. “So, tomorrow… volcano?”

"Yeah, that's a good idea," He replied, stretching his arms above his head. Then he stood up. "Now, ladies, if you'd excuse me." He began to walk toward the backyard and was already taking off his shirt. "I'm gonna soak in the nice pool."

The three girls looked at each other's faces. They waited for Tony to go out, then quickly ran toward their room. 

"The first one to get into the pool gets to ride him first," Yelena said while dashing.

[Shazam] Ch: 20 [Truth]

AN: I read this one after writing and I am on 50/50 with this chapter. 🤔🤔

---

The clock above the counter ticked past nine, and the streets outside had gone quiet. Harley had already dragged the mop bucket out, humming to herself while she swished water across the tiles.

Maureen stacked the last of the clean plates, glancing every now and then at the window table where Diana still sat. The golden-jacketed woman had not budged in hours. She ate six large pizzas and four garlic breads.

When Maureen timidly set the bill down, Diana had paid without blinking, sliding the money over with a smile that made Maureen's fingers shake. 'What is Wonder Woman doing in here? She ate so much. How is she not fat? Arg! Don't overthink, Maureen; she must be here on her secret mission. Wait! Should I get an autograph? No way, I'm too nervous. Let's get out of her way.' She took the money and ran away to the counter.

Harley kept whispering like a gossiping aunt, ducking close to Maureen's ear whenever John's back was turned. "She's here for me. Gotta be. It must be because of that time when I threw stink bombs on her head and into Bat's car. I knew it would come back to bite my ass. Bats probably sent her as payback. Or maybe she's mad 'cause I called her a 'shiny gladiator Barbie' on live TV. Think she remembers that?" 

Maureen tried not to laugh but failed.

"Live TV?" She asked.

"Yeah. I used to run with Livewire back then, and she had this news channel where she trolled Superman. So, I kinda made fun of her on live TV. Hehehe. It was so fun back then," Harley whispered as her eyes went toward Diana. "But not so much, right now."

Meanwhile, the last customers trickled out. A group of college kids had taken pictures of Diana but dared not approach her. Dakota City rarely saw Justice League members up close, and their curiosity buzzed through the air. Well, Diana ignored them and remained in her seat with a calm face.

Finally, John got out of the kitchen. His jaw was set like stone, his patience worn thin. He flipped the sign on the door so it read Closed, slid the bolt in place, and crossed the room. He pulled out the chair opposite Diana and sat down.

"What do you want?" he asked with cold eyes and a hint of annoyance in his tone.

Diana met his stare without flinching. "I did not mean to disrupt your life. That was never my intent. But ever since I first saw you in that crowd, and again when you saved me during the bomb incident, I have sensed something about you. Power. Not ordinary power, but something old and divine. I feel the presence of multiple gods within you. My instincts are rarely wrong. So I followed what I felt, and it led me here. I only have questions. Once I hear your answers, I will leave you be."

John leaned back slightly, folding his arms. "And why should I tell you anything? Did Batman send you even after that warning? Is this his game now? Find out what makes me tick so he can write me down in one of his little files? Countermeasures against me, like he already has for all of you? Or do you have some other agenda you are not admitting?"

Diana's eyes narrowed, but she kept her composure. John leaned forward, voice dropping lower, each word edged with warning.

"I do not care what you want. I have built something here that matters to me. Now, you are here trying to interrogate me, next I know your Justice League friends or Waller or the JSA might come here and destroy my peaceful life. You think I will just stand by? Hell no. I'll fuck them up. And do not mistake me. I might not be able to take all of you down, but I can kill half of you before I fall. That is not a threat. That is a fact."

The air between them grew heavier, Maureen frozen in place behind the counter, Harley clutching her mop like it might double as a weapon.

John's gaze locked with Diana's. "So I will ask you once. Are you ready to take that risk? Because this is your first and only warning. Do not interfere with my life. Keep your little bands of heroes in check."

"I heard from Batman about Khandaq and your hatred for us. I understand your pain and..." Before Diana could finish...

John slammed his fist on the table and said, "You understand nothing, Princess. Not a fucking thing. We suffered while you so-called heroes were playing politics. Everyday I watched those bastards kill so many people... Man, woman, children... Old... Young... The burning smell of flesh... There was barely any food for us to eat. Dry bread, rotten food, stale water and they'd beat us everyday. Some thought the heroes would save them one day and end their sufferings, but no one came. Haha. You think you understand me? You know nothing of suffering. Heck, your kind live on others' misery, so how could you know what real suffering is?" 

Diana didn't say anything, but clenched her fists.

"Looting ships, fucking the men and killing them after having your fill, then sinking those ships. That's how you Amazonians get knocked up, don't you? When a girl is born, you girls brainwash them, mold them according to your visions, and in case a boy is born, don't you just kill them or send them somewhere to die? Oh, your mom must have gone on a lot of raids, right? So, here's a quick question for you..." John leaned forward with a cold smile. "Who is your daddy?"

"ENOUGH!" Diana, unable to hold back her anger anymore, threw a punch, but somehow stopped her fist right before John's nose.

"Hahaha..." John began to laugh, slow at first, but then he laughed louder and louder like a madman.

Harley and Maureen both froze where they stood. He leaned forward, teeth bared in a grin that had nothing of humor in it. His laughter disappeared as quickly as it came and his expression went back to his usual cold self.

“What’s the matter, Princess? Were you trying to silence me just now?” His voice dropped low, almost a whisper. “Is that what this is about? Afraid the truth might spill out? Or tell me, was I wrong in what I said? Can you deny it? Can you swear on your gods that what I just spoke of your people is false?”

Diana’s hand trembled, her fist still hovering in the space between them. Slowly, with visible restraint, she lowered it to the table. Her eyes never left his. “No. I do not deny it. I left Themyscira because of those very traditions. I could not accept them. That is why I turned my back on my home. That is why I chose the world of men instead.”

He sighed and said, “So you ran. You ran away from the rot of your own people and left others to suffer it. And now you stand here and dare to tell me you understand suffering? That is hypocrisy at its highest point, Princess. And judging by your reaction, you don't like to talk about your past, do you? And just like you, I too don't like to remember all those painful memories. And every time I see you and other heroes, it reminds me of my past." 

John stood up.

"Khandaq was where I woke up. It was my home, and I saved my home with my own two hands from tyrants. Do the same. Save your brothers and sisters from their cruel fate. Stop your sisters from killing any further. Stop their stupid traditions. Then come back. I'll be here. I'll answer your questions. Till then," He pointed toward the door. 

Diana stood slowly. Her chair scraped against the floor, her eyes still locked on John. She said nothing more. There was nothing left to say. She turned and walked toward the door, each step heavy with pride swallowed and anger held tight. When she opened the door, the cold night air rushed inside. The bell above the frame gave a hollow chime as she disappeared into the street.

The silence that followed seemed to stretch forever.

John’s shoulders lowered. His jaw eased back into that blank, guarded mask. Without another word, he walked back into the kitchen, pushing the swinging door aside. Harley gripped her mop tighter. Maureen hurried to gather the plates left on Diana’s table. Both of them worked quickly, almost desperately. Not a single word passed between them. They had never seen John like that. They had never heard that kind of rage in his voice.

By the time the clock on the wall struck half past ten, the shop was spotless and locked. Harley and Maureen climbed the stairs together, their footsteps quiet, neither daring to break the uneasy silence. When they reached the apartment above, the table was already set with three plates. John was waiting for them. He looked tired, the lines around his eyes deeper than before, his hands resting flat on the table like he had forced himself to sit still.

When Harley and Maureen settled in, John let out a long breath. “I am sorry for how I acted downstairs,” he said. “I lost control.”

Maureen looked down at her plate, then glanced at Harley, who gave her a small nod. With a quiet gulp, Maureen lifted her head. "I don't want to make you angry, but..."

"You want to know my story?" John asked.

"Only if you want," She said softly.

So, John told them the story of what happened in Khandaq, skipping the part where he got his power.

The room stayed quiet, only the ticking clock filling the silence.

Maureen’s throat tightened. Her blue fingers clenched around her fork. “I thought my life was hard,” she whispered. “I thought losing my mom and living on the streets was the worst thing that could happen. I used my powers to lash out at others. I wanted them to feel pain because I was hurting. But you… you suffered more than I can imagine, and you used your power to save people instead of hurting them.”

Harley pushed her chair back. She walked around the table without saying a word. She stopped behind John, bent down, and wrapped her arms around him. Her cheek pressed to his shoulder. She held him tight, and for once she had no jokes, no smart remarks, or laughter to fill the air. She just held on.

John let out a slow breath and lowered one hand to rest on her arm.

"Now now, don't get mushy with me. The food is getting cold, eat up," He said with a little smile.

...

[2 AM] 

[Winston Bank] 

Booom! 

A massive explosion rocked an entire block. Flames were rising from the bank's door as someone blew it up. From inside, a guy walked out, carrying a big duffel bag and swirling fire in his left hand. 

"Ha! No cops today? Bunch of useless pussies. Always late. Well, whatever. Time to enjoy life a bit," He said with an arrogant smirk.

[Ironman] Ch: 157 [Four Choices and No Mercy]

An: Slightly unedited, let me know if you find any mistakes.

===

[Basement level] [Containment section]

In the cells were Mystique, Blob, Avalanche, Forge, Mastermind, and a couple of others. Alongside them, the earlier captives Magneto, Pyro, Toad, Sabretooth, and Azazel. Then there were the Hellclub duo, Emma Frost and Sebastian Shaw.

The infected was free now from Sublime’s grip. And Tony had made sure they remembered everything using his Mind Stone. Now, it was time to decide their fate.

Tony entered and stopped in the center of the row of cells. His voice carried across the room.

“You have very few choices right now. I already know what you were before Sublime. With one exception, all of you chose this life before he touched you. Murder, manipulation, chaos. That was the path that you chose before Sublime came into the picture. So don’t waste your breath telling me you were only puppets."

His eyes turned to Mystique.

“You are the exception. He used you to tear a wedge between Charles and Erik. He stripped your will and twisted it. I’ve restored your memories. You know what he did to you.”

Mystique said nothing. Her face remained unreadable.

Tony let the silence sit before continuing.

“You have four choices. First, take the mutant cure, walk out of here, but what you do with that life will be chosen by me based on the crimes you committed before the manipulation. Second, face trial for your crimes. That ends with the cure anyway, plus a prison sentence. Third, you use your powers for something better. You fight for Earth, you protect the innocent, and maybe you claw back some redemption. Fourth, you refuse. If you refuse, I end you here. Five minutes to decide.”

The words hit the room like a hammer. Some of them shifted uneasily. Blob muttered under his breath. Pyro clenched his fists. Azazel simply sat on the floor.

Tony turned his head toward Shaw.

“Except you. You don’t get a choice.”

Shaw tilted his head, mocking. “And why not?”

“Because you’ve gone too far,” Tony said. His tone was flat and final. “You’ve spilled too much blood for your own amusement. There’s no redemption for you. I’m going to strip your mutation out of you and then kill you slow enough that the souls of the people you burned will finally rest. Or..." He walked toward Magneto's cell. "I'll hand you over to him." He looked into Magneto's eyes. "Humm... Tough decision."

Magneto finally stood up and walked forward. He stopped before the forcefield. 

"What game are you playing, Stark?" Magneto asked.

"You don't recognize him, do you?" Tony asked as he opened Magneto's containment cell. "Come out." He gave Magneto a slight nod and then tapped the bracelet on his wrist.

Magneto walked out of his cell.

A holographic screen appeared before his eyes with videos and files on a man whom Magneto knows very well. 

Dr. Klaus Schmidt.

Tony played each of them and gave him enough time to read through the files.

Magneto’s eyes narrowed as the files scrolled past. At first, he did not seem to breathe. Then the screen showed the grainy black-and-white photo of a man in a German officer’s coat. The face was younger, clean-shaven, but unmistakable.

“Dr. Klaus Schmidt,” Tony said, his tone steady. “Alias: Sebastian Shaw. Same man. Different century. Different uniform. Same monster.”

Magneto’s gaze locked on Shaw, who finally straightened in his cell. The arrogant calm that usually wrapped Shaw like armor cracked for the first time. He smirked, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of recognition.

Memories hit Erik like a physical blow.

...

[1944. Auschwitz.]

The cold was bone-deep, the kind of cold that did not leave the body no matter how close he huddled to the other prisoners. Erik sat in the cramped office. Before him sat a man who called himself Dr. Schmidt. The man smiled too warmly for the place they were in, his blue eyes sharp as glass. He offered Erik chocolates and tried to be friendly to see his power. But Erik refused to show his power.

“Come now, Erik,” Schmidt coaxed, pointing at the coin on the table. “All you have to do is move it. Just a little. You can do it.”

Erik’s hand shook, but the coin did not move. He stared at it with all his will.

Schmidt’s smile faltered. He gave a sigh and stood. “Perhaps you need... encouragement.”

He motioned, and the guards dragged Erik’s mother into the room. Erik lunged toward her, but Schmidt stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, gentle and firm.

“Look at me, Erik. Move the coin on the count of three, or you can stop that bullet. Your choice. One...” His voice was calm, cruel in its patience. “Two...”

Erik’s lips trembled. His eyes blurred with tears. Nothing happened.

“Three.”

The gunshot was louder than thunder. His mother fell to the floor, lifeless.

"NOOOOO!"

Erik screamed. The sound was raw, primal, more beast than child. The lights shattered above him, metal fixtures tore from the walls, the desk crushed in on itself like paper. The guards scrambled, shouting, but iron ripped through their bodies, spears of steel piercing flesh.

Dr. Schmidt stood untouched in the center of the storm, smiling with satisfaction.

“Outstanding, Erik,” he said, clapping slowly. “So we unlock your gift with anger. Anger and pain. You and me... we are going to have a lot of fun together.”

That was the last thing Erik remembered before the guards dragged him away. The words carved themselves into his memory like brands.

...

[Present time]

Magneto’s breathing grew ragged. His hands trembled, then clenched into fists so tight the skin of his knuckles whitened. His eyes never left Shaw.

“You...” Magneto’s voice was low, guttural. “You were him. You were there. You killed her.”

Shaw spread his hands in mock surrender. “She was one life. You have killed thousands in her name since. Do not pretend your crusade is clean, Erik."

Magneto’s hands shook as he stared at Shaw, the man who had haunted his nightmares for decades. The weight of that memory pressed down on him like steel. Shaw’s smirk did nothing to lessen the fury building in Erik’s chest.

“You can kill him,” Tony said, stepping closer. “End it all. End the hatred. Shaw doesn’t deserve mercy, I know that. He is beyond redemption. But you still have good in you. I've seen it, Erik. That little bright corner in the darkness. Your life doesn't have to be consumed by this revenge. You have a choice.”

Erik’s eyes narrowed. “A choice, you say? It's more like your choice, right? No one here has the power to defy you. You can force me to kill him... Or, end him yourself. Why go through all this drama?”

“Because this endless drama of mutants vs humans has gone on long enough. I want it to end as fast as possible. Now that I've exposed Sublime's plot, both sides are slowly adjusting to the idea of coexistence. Mutant-related crimes declined, and humans attacking mutants also declined. And if my calculation is correct, which most of the time is... Within two to three years, this hate will disappear. No one will again go through what you or many others went through in the past."

Tony paused and took a little breath before continuing...

"You can keep living like this... broken and consumed. Or, I can restore your abilities. You can fight again—fight to protect, not destroy. Together with the Ultimates. The threats coming are worse than Skrulls and Sublime. The universe doesn’t care about your vendetta. But you could make a difference. So, what will it be? Waste the remaining years of your life or become someone your son and daughters could at least be proud of, which.. Well, it's a long way to go."

"Daughters?" Magneto asked.

"Yeah. I know all about Lorna. She knows everything. Oh, by the way, I think I should tell you the truth. Shaw attacked her and critically injured her. She was lucky I noticed and sent Wanda to save her, or God knows what he'd have done with her," Tony revealed the truth.

Magneto’s chest heaved as he absorbed Tony’s words. The room seemed to shrink around him, every cell humming with tension. He swallowed hard, his mind spinning with the weight of the past, the present, and what might come. 

Then he spoke, his voice low and unwavering.

“Tony,” he said, each word deliberate, “I don’t care about choices, or redemption, or whatever else you’re offering. You can tell me to live, to fight, to join the Ultimates, or to kill anyone. I will do it all. Anything you say. All I want… all I need… is that bastard. Alone. Four walls. Just me and him.”

"Deal," Tony said with a satisfied nod. Then he looked toward the rest of the mutants. "And you lots? Your five minutes up... So, what's it gonna be? Cure, jail, redemption, or death?"

The room fell into tense silence. One by one, the mutants spoke.

Blob grunted first. “I’m not giving up my powers. But I’ll face the trial.”

Pyro clenched his fists but didn’t argue. “Trial.”

Azazel, quiet as ever, simply nodded.

Mystique’s eyes flicked to Tony as she gave a slight nod of appreciation for not killing them and giving them a second chance.

Mastermind, Forge, Sabretooth, and the others followed suit except for Emma. They would keep their abilities, face the law, and answer for the choices they had made before Sublime.

Tony. “Good. Trials will start in a week. Enough time to prepare, enough time to think about what you all are going to do with your second chance. But make no mistake, I'll be watching you and the moment you mess up, I'll end you.” 

He then walked over to Emma's cell.

Emma sighed and then said, "If my memory serves right, I haven't killed anyone who didn't deserve it. And if you've read my mind, you should know the reason I was following Shaw, right?"

"Yep! I know all about you and your sister's situation," Tony said as he opened her cell. "Destroy the underground criminal families, every single one of them. I don't care how or what you do with them, I just want them gone. Do that, and I'll help you annihilate The Hand." [Sister: Not blood related. Her name is Chat/Sophia Sanduval.]

"I want Gao alive," Emma said in a cold tone. 

"Deal," He extended his hand toward her.

"Deal," She shook his hand.

He walked over to Shaw. "Where's that nice big smile of yours?" He activated the nanites within Shaw's body and extracted his mutation, leaving the man powerless and writhing. The cell door opened, and the nanites flowed out and converged over Tony's palm. Then he turned to Magneto.

“Your turn, Erik,” Tony said as he activated the nanites within his body. 

A familiar surge of energy coursed through Magneto. Metal around him trembled in recognition, and for the first time in weeks, he felt whole again. The power he had lost returned in a wave that left him gasping.

Shaw stumbled back at the corner. He knew there was no escape from what was coming.

"The door is open. Do what you must," Tony said as he moved toward Mystique's cell.

He unlocked it, stepping aside. She hesitated, then stepped forward. Her eyes, normally guarded, shone with something close to relief.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For ending this endless and meaningless war. And for helping Erik… to let his rage go.”

Tony nodded, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Try to make the next choices count. Don’t waste the second chance.”

They left the basement together. 

As for Magneto... 

Well, he took his time with Shaw and let's just say... Shaw's soul won't rest in peace. No RIP for Shaw.

---

AN: Some might not agree with the route I decided to go. But I just wanted to end the war between human and mutant on a good note. And give Erik a chance to redeem himself. Like, killing him would have been a waste. If Lorana and Magneto joins in a fight together, just imagine their power.

---

Next Chapter: Rogue's training & Pepper Potts.

[Ironman] Ch: 156 [Rogue's evolution: 48 hours]

[Horizon Island Base]

The storm of flashing cameras and political outrage faded quickly once Tony was back on Horizon Island. From the moment his shoes touched the glass floor of the hangar, he had already pushed the world’s noise into a box. Natasha, Melina, and his father could handle the talking heads. They had the patience for it. He did not.

Instead, he turned his focus to the real work.

Holographic reports floated around him in the central lab. Each feed carried a different piece of the aftermath: Sue Storm with her small team of Widows in New York, stabilizing mutants who volunteered for the cure; Yelena and Janet drilling the new recruits in combat formations; Ben, Johnny, Ghost, and Wanda spreading themselves thin across the globe, stopping whatever criminals thought they could thrive in the lull.

Even Pietro and Lorna had stepped back to finish their studies, which secretly amused him more than he let on. Mutant speedster and magnetic prodigy going back to classrooms instead of battlefields.

As for Rogue's cure, Tony decided to use Forge's idea to upgrade the stability serum, which will allow Rogue to absorb power without touching anyone and remove the final drawback of her power: the memory absorption. For now, Rogue's using the suppressor bracelet.

A notification pulsed in the corner of the display. Meeting: Lorna’s parents.

Tony rubbed his jaw, pulled a clean shirt from the rack, and headed for the private call room. 

Lorna's aunt and uncle appeared first on the feed, the middle-aged couple looking stiff and wary until Lorna slid into view beside him.

“Mr. Stark,” her uncle began. His tone was clipped, cautious. “We did not expect to speak with you directly.”

“Please. Call me Tony,” he replied, leaning back casually. “Your daughter’s done good work with us, and if I say so myself, she's got huge potential. I wanted you to know she’s got my full sponsorship for college and higher education.”

Her aunt blinked at that. “Sponsorship? You mean… paying for it?”

Lorna crossed her arms in the background as her voice came. “He means I don’t have to fight my way through another mess. I can actually study whatever I want. And I’m going to do it right this time.”

Her uncle’s lips parted, but no words came out. Her aunt reached for her niece’s hand on the table. “Lorna… you mean it?”

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, her throat tight. “For the fights. For running off. For… everything. I thought I had to prove I was strong by being impossible. But I want you to be proud. I’ll reach the top. You’ll see.”

The silence that followed stretched long, broken only by the sound of her uncle clearing his throat. His eyes glistened as he gave a shaky nod. “We already are proud, Lorna. We always were. We just… never thought we’d hear you say this.”

Her aunt brushed tears quickly from her face. “You’re our daughter. That’s all that matters.”

Tony quietly stepped out of the frame, leaving them to the moment.

...

Later, in the strategy room, Howard Stark’s face appeared on the screen.

“The French President is demanding answers about X-Force,” Howard reported. “The Russians are pretending they had nothing to do with the mercs. Half of the world wants in on the space program, and surprisingly, they've been pretty supportive of you. The other half wants you tried for vigilante overreach."

Tony sipped his coffee. “Which half is offering money?”

Howard gave him a look that could strip paint. “Do not joke, Anthony. Melina and Romanoff are working overtime to keep this from spiraling. You made a hell of a speech, but speeches are like grenades. The shrapnel always lands somewhere.”

“That’s why you’re in charge of the cleanup,” Tony said smoothly. “Delegation, Dad. You taught me that. Let me build while you play politics.”

Howard’s sigh was long but not without pride. “Just do not forget, the stronger you build, the harder they’ll try to tear it down.”

“I’m counting on it,” Tony replied, shutting down the feed.

...

[2 days later] [NY Shield's training ground]

The training grounds echoed with the sound of metal striking metal. Yelena was running a squad of new recruits through a combat gauntlet, barking orders with her usual sharp humor. And she was more than happy to order them around.

“Faster. You think those space freaks are going to pause and let you catch your breath? Again. Shields up. Block as if your life depends on it.”

Janet hovered nearby, wings shimmering, correcting stances and technique with surgical precision. She caught Tony watching from the sidelines.

“They’re improving,” she said, landing beside him. “Some of them even smile while training now. That’s a bigger win than you realize.”

Tony tilted his head. “And the ones who aren’t smiling?”

“They’re here anyway,” Janet answered simply. “That’s enough for today.”

Yelena smirked as one recruit finally managed to flip another onto the mat. “See? You listen, you live. You don’t listen, you break a rib. Simple math.”

Tony clapped his hands once, drawing the squad’s attention. “Listen to your teachers. They’re the best I could find. And remember, if you think the gauntlet is hard now, wait until you see the world outside.”

...

[Medic section]

In the medical wing, Sue guided a trembling mutant boy onto a cot. His eyes glowed faintly, traces of uncontrolled energy sparking along his skin. Six Widows stood nearby, monitoring the situation. Then there were some combat bots and drones around the place to stop any unnecessary interruption.

Sue’s voice was patient, maternal. “We’ll stabilize the energy first. No one’s taking anything from you. This is your choice. If you want the cure, we’ll help you. If you want control, we’ll train you.”

The boy nodded slowly, tears streaking his cheeks. “I just… I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.”

Tony was looking at them through the surveillance live feed. He watched as Sue placed her hand gently on the boy’s shoulder, her field dampening the sparks until his trembling slowed. The Widows exchanged relieved glances.

For all his talk about machines and strategy, moments like this reminded him why they fought.

...

[Horizon Base] [Evening] 

Tony found himself in the hangar, alone with the silence of machines. He adjusted the final calibrations on a new prototype, its nanite systems weaving like liquid metal across a skeletal frame.

Ghost appeared out of nowhere, leaning casually against a crate. “You really think this peace will last?” He asked.

“Peace never lasts,” Tony replied without looking up. “But stability? That’s worth chasing. Besides, every villain who pops up gives us another excuse to test-drive new tech.”

Ghost gave a dry chuckle. “Always the optimist.”

“I call it realism,” he said, snapping the casing shut.

He tilted his head, studying him. “And when the next big war comes?”

Tony finally looked at her, eyes sharp. “Then we’ll be ready. With more than just armor this time.”

...

[One Week Later] [Medical Lab]

Tony stood in front of a containment chamber, arms crossed, watching the green solution swirl inside a cylindrical vial. He hadn’t slept more than three hours a night all week, not that he needed any sleep, but no one can escape mental exhaustion. Besides, when it came to cracking a mutation like Rogue’s, obsession was the only language worth speaking.

Rogue sat on the examination table nearby, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. She looked nervous since this was the moment of truth that would change her life forever.

“You’re staring at it like it’s going to sprout legs and run away,” she said finally. Her Southern drawl cracked the silence.

Tony smirked. “If it sprouts legs, I’ll patent that too. Walking medicine. Could be big.”

“Quit dodging,” she shot back. “You tellin’ me this thing’s ready?”

He picked up the vial and held it against the light. “Ready as it’s ever going to be. I’ve run every simulation, tested every variable. This rewrites your cellular interaction pattern. Think of it like a firewall that you can toggle. When you want to absorb, you’ll absorb. When you don’t, you won’t. No more accidental kills, absorption, or comas. Plus zero memory baggage.”

Her breath caught. “So this is it. I'm ready.”

Tony set the vial carefully on the tray. “Just a warning... don’t expect miracles on day one. This isn’t like flipping a light switch. Your power’s been firing uncontrolled for years. The serum stabilizes the engine. But you’ll still have to learn how to drive it.”

She laughed softly, though her eyes were glassy. “Tony Stark, teachin’ me how to drive? Now that’s a headline.”

“Relax. I’m a great teacher,” he deadpanned. “Just ask anyone who survived my crash courses.”

The door slid open then, and Wanda stepped in, curiosity written across her face. “Is it true? You’re giving her the serum today?”

“Unless she decides she prefers gloves and isolation,” Tony said.

Rogue shot Wanda a look. “What do you think?”

Wanda walked closer, folding her arms. “I think you’ve earned this. But if it backfires, I’ll hex him into the sun.”

Tony raised a brow. “Noted. Although I’d prefer you wait until after we confirm the results.” He pointed at the vial. "Drink it."

Rogue exhaled slowly, then uncapped the vial and drank it in one steady gulp. The liquid glowed faintly as it slid down her throat, warmth spreading through her chest like fire.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. She sat there, staring at her hands, waiting for something catastrophic. Then, slowly, her skin began to glow faintly as the nanite-serum bond activated.

Tony checked the monitors. “Vitals stable. No cellular rejection. It’s holding.”

Rogue clenched her fists. She could feel something different. It was as if a huge pressure had been lifted from her body. She opened her palms and clenched them a few times. She felt a weird hum. 

Her eyes widened. “Tony… it feels different. Like I’m not drowning anymore.”

He tapped the screen. “That’s because you’re not. The serum is working."

"I... I feel sleepy..." Rogue mumbled as her eyes felt heavy.

Everything went dark before her eyes as she fell back. She could tell someone caught her, but after that, nothing... She fell asleep.

Rogue slumped back against the examination table, eyes closed, breath steady but faint. The serum’s glow pulsed faintly in her veins like threads of light beneath the skin. Tony was already moving, one arm catching her weight before her head hit the metal.

Wanda’s eyes narrowed as she stepped closer. “What just happened? She was fine a second ago.”

“She is fine,” Tony said, shifting Rogue into his arms. The monitor continued to display results rapidly, graphs rising and falling with each second. “The serum is rewriting her DNA. It’s evolution in real time. And evolution hurts like hell.”

Tony continued as he carried Rogue toward the door, and Wanda followed him. “I built in a sedative agent. It keeps her under while the serum does its work, numbs the nervous system, and prevents her from feeling like her skeleton is being pulled inside out. Trust me, she should thank me later."

The door slid open, and Wanda walked beside him. “How long until she wakes?” She asked.

“Forty-eight hours,” Tony said. His tone was matter-of-fact, but his eyes were locked forward. “Give or take. When she does, she’ll be stable. No memory backlash, no uncontrollable drain, no risk of killing anyone by accident. For the first time since she awakened her mutation, she’ll be able to control her power.”

They reached Rogue’s quarters. Tony lowered her carefully onto the bed, pulling a blanket over her. The glow beneath her skin pulsed softer now, settling into a rhythm that almost matched her heartbeat. Wanda lingered in the doorway.

He turned back and asked, "Would you stay and keep an eye on her?"

"Yeah. I'll look after her," Wanda replied instantly.

"Great. Let me know when she wakes up. In the meantime, I'll have a little chat with our guests in the cells," Tony said as he looked at Rogue one last time before walking out, leaving her in Wanda's care.

[Shazam] Ch: 19 [Maureen's new life]

AN: I went a bit too much into slice of life. It looked good to me.😬😬 Words: 2.7k

---

Snow clung to the cracked windows of the small house. The place was never warm enough, even when the heater rattled through the nights. Maureen sat cross-legged on the living room carpet, her hands folded neatly in her lap, staring at the wrapped boxes stacked under the tree. The lights on the tree blinked in uneven rhythms, a strand shorting every few minutes, but to her eyes it was magic. Though they were struggling, her mother made sure to buy some little gifts for her little girl.

Her mother was in the armchair across from her, wrapped in a quilt. Her face looked thin, skin pale against the glow of the television, but her smile was soft. She kept clearing her throat, fighting the weakness in her lungs. Every laugh came out wheezy, every breath shallow. Maureen had grown used to the sound, though every cough made her stomach twist.

Behind them, the man who called himself her stepfather muttered at the counter. He wasn't watching them. He wasn't watching the tree or the girl waiting for him to sit and open gifts together. He poured himself another drink, shoulders hunched, eyes tired of being here at all.

"Can I open them, mama?" Maureen asked, her voice hopeful.

Her mother's tired smile widened. "Yes, baby. Open the small one first."

Maureen tore the paper carefully, not wanting to ruin the bright colors. Inside was a porcelain angel with painted gold wings. The little figure carried a star above its head, face tilted upward.

"It's pretty," Maureen whispered, holding it close.

"It's yours," her mother said, coughing into the quilt. "So you always have someone watching over you."

Maureen hugged it, chest warm. She wanted to tell her mom she didn't need an angel when she already had her.

The front door opened so hard it rattled the windows. Her stepfather kicked it open and yelled. "I'm done with this. I didn't sign up for a sick house and another man's kid. I'm done."

The blast of winter air rolled through the living room, sweeping around the tree, sweeping across her mother in the chair. She gasped, her hand clutching her chest. The coughing turned violent.

"Wait," Maureen cried, scrambling up, but the door had already slammed again.

Her mother tried to push herself upright, but her breath wouldn't come. The quilt slid to the floor. The coughing broke into silence, her chest heaving but empty. The color drained from her lips as her hand fell limp against the armrest.

"Mama?" Maureen whispered, shaking her arm. "Mama, wake up. Mama, please." She ran to the desk and brought her inhaler. "Mama, inhaler. Mama..." She kept calling her, but her mom never woke up.

The tree lights kept blinking. The angel in her hand slipped, shattered on the floor. Porcelain wings scattered across the carpet, broken in half.

That night, Maureen sat in the living room with her mother's still body, staring at the cracked porcelain pieces until her eyes blurred. The cold air crept through the windows. She stayed anyway, dazed in shock and grief.

...

The days after blurred together. There were adults she didn't know who came to take her away. A woman with a clipboard and a heavy coat said words like "child services" and "foster care." Maureen bolted from the front porch before she could be touched. She ran until her legs ached. She found corners of the city where no one asked questions. She wrapped herself in trash bags and cardboard, her mother's face stuck in her head like a photograph she couldn't tear up.

Food came from church kitchens. Reverend Anderson left sandwiches by the back steps for her when she was too ashamed to walk in. He smiled at her when she did show up, like he knew she was fighting something too heavy for her age. She never smiled back.

She stayed in an abandoned cable car depot with other kids and people who had no homes. Some shared scraps, some shoved her away. The nights were always freezing. She would hold her arms tight to her chest, pretending she didn't care that the cold was cutting into her bones.

When the night of the Big Bang came, she had crept out near the waterfront looking for food. Smoke filled the air after the canisters exploded, rolling over alleys and streets. It burned in her throat, burned her skin, and then something changed. The cold stopped hurting. Ice curled from her fingertips without her asking. The others screamed when they saw it, backing away like she had turned into something inhuman.

The first time she froze a streetlight solid, she laughed. It was power, finally. The world couldn't push her around anymore. 

Maureen named herself Permafrost and decided to ruin the lives of other families in the same way her family was ruined, as she had lost her own family and had never known real happiness.

...

[Present time]

The ceiling fan hummed softly above her, the steady rhythm tapping at her nerves. The blanket felt heavy, real cotton pressing down on her chest instead of damp coats or stolen blankets. She pulled it tighter, hating how good it felt. The pillow cradled her head in a way that scared her more than alleys ever had.

She turned her face into the fabric and whispered, "Why are you doing this to me?"

She had been ready. Hungry enough that her body ached, she had waited outside that pizza shop for hours. In her head, she pictured the scene: the tall man with stone eyes or the loud blonde woman would come out, yell about her scaring off customers, maybe shove her for good measure. That would be her moment. She would let the frost pour out of her palms, freeze the neon sign, crack the windows, coat the ovens in ice. A frozen monument to remind Dakota City that she was not weak, not someone to pity or shove away.

But it didn't go that way. Harley had walked across the street with a grin instead of a sneer. She didn't flinch when the frost bloomed across Maureen's hand. She laughed and called it "cool." She dragged her inside and shoved food in front of her like she was some guest, not a stray.

And John, the man with stone eyes, didn't threaten her like she imagined. He asked where she lived. He set rules, simple ones. Work, eat, earn. His voice carried authority but not cruelty. After surviving in the darkest part of the streets for years, she gained certain intuition and could tell who's bad and who's good. She could just tell that John was a good guy. 

Maureen had eaten the pizza so fast and it was so tasty that she almost cried. She hadn't tasted anything that warm in months. Now she was in their spare room with a real bed, told she belonged here if she wanted it.

The guilt gnawed at her chest like a rat. She had planned to hurt them. Instead, she was full and warm.

She buried her face into the pillow, teeth gritted. "I didn't ask for this," she whispered. "You were supposed to shove me away. This isn't fair." Her hands curled, frost gathering at her fingertips before fading again. 

The truth she hated most of all was simple. For the first time since her mother's death, she didn't feel invisible.

...

[Next Morning]

Harley opened the bedroom door.

“Rise and shine, Frosty Flakes!” Harley sang, clapping her hands. “Breakfast is served, and if ya wait too long, I’ll eat your share outta principle.”

Maureen startled awake, clutching the blanket like she’d been caught doing something wrong. Her hair stuck up at odd angles. The warmth of the room still felt unreal, as if it would vanish if she blinked too hard.

“C’mon, kiddo,” Harley said. “But first thing’s first: I'm givin’ you the spa treatment, deluxe edition. You smell like alleyway mystery stew.”

Maureen blinked. “The… what?”

“The bath,” Harley said, hauling her to her feet. “Don’t worry, I gotcha. Bubbles, bodywash, fluffy towels. Time to get ya back into the civilization. Let’s go.”

[Bathroom]

Steam rose as the tub filled. Harley tossed in a splash of pink-swirled soap and the water frothed with bubbles. She set a bottle of bodywash on the counter, something neon-colored with “Sugar Rush” printed across the label in glittery letters.

“This stuff’ll make ya smell like cotton candy married a fruit salad,” Harley said proudly. “Premium stuff.”

Maureen hesitated at the door, fingers clutching the hoodie sleeve. “I… I can do it myself.”

“Relax, Bluebell, I ain’t plannin’ on scrubbin’ ya like a car hood. Just settin’ the scene.” Harley winked, then turned her back to give the girl space. “Soak up, chill out. You deserve it. And don’t ya dare argue. Or I’ll toss ya in with your clothes on.”

When Harley left, Maureen lowered herself into the hot water. The warmth crawled up her skin, melting the chill she usually carried like armor. She leaned back against the porcelain, closing her eyes as bubbles clung to her arms. The scent of the bodywash was absurdly sweet, but she used it anyway, rubbing the foam along her shoulders.

For the first time in years, she didn’t smell like rust and dirt. She smelled… human.

[Bedroom]

When she finished, Harley was waiting with a pile of clothes. “Here ya go. Vintage Quinn collection. Don’t worry, it’s all washed. Probably. Maybe. Eh, mostly.”

The stack included a red & blue hoodie that smelled faintly of detergent, black leggings, and a T-shirt with a cartoon bat on it. Maureen slipped into them, tugging the sleeves over her hands. 

Harley tilted her head. “Perfect fit. Look at you. Like a sad blueberry turned into a cherry pie.”

Maureen muttered, “Thanks.”

Harley grinned. “Good enough for me. Now c’mon, breakfast before John eats all the wings.”

[Kitchen Table]

The table was already set. A plate piled with stuffed garlic bread sat steaming beside a basket of chicken wings glistening with sauce. Scrambled eggs with a sprinkle of herbs. A pot of coffee steamed in the center, mugs lined up like soldiers.

John stood behind the counter, finishing a second pan of eggs. 

“Sit,” he said, not looking up.

Maureen sat in a chair. Harley plopped down beside her, pouring coffee into two mugs. One she pushed toward John, the other she claimed for herself.

Maureen reached for the garlic bread. Her fingers trembled, but she took a piece and bit in. Cheese stretched, gooey and hot. She closed her eyes, savoring it.

“Careful,” John said. “Hot.”

She nodded quickly, swallowing too fast.

Harley leaned on her elbow. “Told ya. Our boy here makes a breakfast that’ll make ya forget your own name. Don’t get used to it, though. Tomorrow you’re on toast duty.”

Maureen blinked. “Toast duty?”

“Everyone pitches in,” John said simply, sitting down with his own plate.

Harley wagged a finger. “And don’t let him trick ya with his scary voice. It’s not slavery. It’s tradition. Community. Like, family dinner but in the morning.”

Maureen’s hands froze around her plate. The word “family” stuck in her ears like a pin. She lowered her gaze, hiding her face in another bite of garlic bread.

John watched her quietly. Then, as if to ease the weight, he shifted the plate of chicken wings toward her. “Eat.”

She took one. Slowly at first, then faster, until sauce smeared her fingers. Harley laughed, tossing her a napkin.

“Attagirl. Now you’re a real Quinn diner.”

Maureen wiped her hands, cheeks flushing faintly. “It’s… really good.”

John gave a single nod, which, from him, might as well have been applause.

...

[Behind J&H Pizza Place]

Later that morning, the rumble of a truck echoed down the alley, followed by a loud honk. Harley threw open the back door, waving as the driver hopped out.

“Supplies incoming!” she called. “And by supplies, I mean enough cheese to clog an artery just by lookin’ at it.”

The driver began unloading crates stacked with flour, veggies, boxes of mozzarella, and a couple of other items. John stepped out, sleeves rolled up, ready to haul.

“Harley, Maureen, lend me a hand.”

“On it, boss man,” Harley said, grabbing a crate of soda bottles and passing a smaller box to Maureen.

Maureen was clutching the cardboard against her chest. Her breath puffed white in the morning air, though the day wasn’t cold.

“Careful, Bluebell,” Harley said, bumping the box with her elbow. “Don’t drop the sacred mozzarella.”

Maureen almost smiled. “I won’t.”

They carried the crates inside. John stacked the heavier ones near the walk-in fridge. Maureen set hers down and stepped back.

John glanced at her. “You did fine.”

The words were simple, flat, but Maureen felt heat crawl into her face. It had been a long time since anyone told her she did fine.

Harley slung an arm around her shoulders. “See? You’re officially part of the team. Next step, pizza box origami. We’ll make a professional outta ya yet.”

Maureen ducked her head, hiding a faint smile.

...

[Noon]

The bell over the door jingled every few minutes as customers came and went. The lunch rush had begun to swell. John moved fast in the kitchen, stretching dough, sliding pies into the oven, turning out trays of garlic bread with practiced rhythm. The air was thick with the smell of baked cheese and roasted tomato.

Harley had taken off an hour earlier with two stacked delivery bags hooked over her shoulder, yelling something about tips and free entertainment if anyone stiffed her. That left Maureen at the counter. She stood a little stiff, pen in hand, scribbling down orders on a notepad.

The first few customers had stared too long. A woman whispered to her husband, her eyes darting to Maureen’s pale blue skin as though it were a stain. Two boys laughed softly when she reached for their menus.

Maureen carried the slip of paper back to the kitchen, holding it tight. John glanced at her face, then the order, and without looking up from the cutting board said, “It’s human nature. People stare at what they do not understand. They get curious when they see someone or something different. Harley used to get those stares back then. But with time, things changed. It'll change for you too. So, don't think too much.” He slid a tray toward her. “Do your job. That is what matters.”

She nodded slowly, throat tight, but when she walked back out, she kept her shoulders straighter. Carrying plates to a booth, she focused on balance, on setting them down without clatter. The customers mumbled their thanks without looking at her. That was fine. She's used to that.

By the time the clock above the counter hit two, she had found a rhythm. Take the orders, smile enough that it looked polite, bring the plates out. John stayed steady in the kitchen, and whenever she passed him a new slip, his words echoed back. 'It'll change for you too.'

[A few hours later]

The lunch crowd thinned. Harley was snoring upstairs after the rush hour.

Maureen wiped down tables after eating lunch. A couple of teenagers lingered in the corner booth, laughing over sodas. She caught one girl staring, but instead of shrinking, Maureen met her gaze until the girl looked away.

John came out from the kitchen carrying a tray of fresh wings for a late table. He set them down, spoke a short thanks to the customers, and stepped back toward the counter. His eyes flicked toward Maureen, a small nod acknowledging her effort. She almost smiled.

The quiet between orders felt comfortable. Maureen leaned on the counter, tapping her pencil against the notepad. She could almost imagine this was normal life. No alleys, no hunger. Just pizza, garlic bread, and the steady hum of the fan overhead.

[4 PM]

The place was empty for now...

The door swung open. The bell chimed.

A familiar figure walked in. Her clothes were casual enough for the city streets. A simple top, golden jacket, jeans and high-knee boots. She walked over to the window table and took a seat. Maureen took the menu and walked over to her.

John peeked out from the kitchen doorway. 'Diana! What the hell is she doing here? Did she track me here? Tsk.'

----

[Shazam] Ch: 18 [Bang Baby Blues]

AN: Quick Note: Bang Baby: Metahumans. In Static Shock, metas are called Bang Baby

----

The girl across the street lingered like a shadow that forgot how to fade. Harley leaned against the doorframe, chewing gum, squinting through the neon glow of J&H Pizza’s sign. The kid looked no older than nineteen. Oversized blue hoodie, ripped jeans, beat-up sneakers. Her skin had a pale bluish tint, not like makeup or a bad night’s sleep but like frostbite trying to live on a human face.

The girl’s eyes flicked to the shop and away again. She hugged herself against the night air, though it wasn’t cold. When Harley caught her looking, she ducked behind the streetlight like it could swallow her whole.

Harley’s grin stretched wide. Trouble had found her.

“Well, well, well. What have we got here?” Harley whispered, popping her gum.

She ran inside, apron still tied crookedly around her waist. John was at the counter, rolling bills into neat stacks, precise as always. He looked up.

“Don’t shoot me for askin’, sugar,” Harley said, flopping onto the counter and nearly crushing the tip jar, “but did you notice the Smurfette lurkin’ outside?”

John set the cash aside without answering right away. That was his thing, chewing on silence like it was gum. Finally, he said, “She’s been there since seven.”

“Oh ho ho!” Harley pointed at him like she’d caught him red-handed. “And ya didn’t tell me?”

“She wasn’t a threat,” John replied calmly. “Hungry maybe.”

“Hungry’s still a crime in my book if it means starin’ at my neon masterpiece for hours,” Harley said. She hopped off the counter. “I’m goin’ in.”

“She is a...” John started, but she was already halfway out the door. "Bang Baby."

[Outside]

The girl startled when Harley walked across the street. She shrank into her hoodie, eyes darting left and right like a cornered cat.

“Relax, kiddo,” Harley said, stopping a few feet away. She popped her gum. “I ain’t the cops. Though technically I got an apron, so that makes me a waitress with jurisdiction over mozzarella-based disputes.”

The girl blinked. Confusion beat fear for half a second.

“Name’s Harley,” she continued, hands on her hips. “Yes, that Harley. And before you ask, yeah, the rumors are true. I once dumped Penguin in a fish barrel and imported him to France. Don’t ask why. Long story. What’s your name, Blueberry?”

The girl muttered something too quiet to catch.

“Speak up, hon, I ain’t got sonar.”

“Maureen,” she whispered, voice raspy from either nerves or exhaustion. “Maureen Connor.”

Harley tilted her head. “Cute. But you look more like a Maureen-the-Bluebell to me. What’re ya doin’ out here, freezin’ up my sidewalk with those big sad eyes?”

“I was just… looking,” Maureen said. Her gaze drifted to the sign again. “It looks… warm in there.”

“Well, duh. We got ovens. Two of ‘em. But lemme guess…” Harley squinted. “You’re one of them Bang Babies, ain’t ya?”

The girl stiffened.

“Ohhh, nailed it. Don’t gotta tell me twice. I've seen enough shades of weird in Gotham to recognize a metahuman glow when I see one.” Harley leaned closer, lowering her voice. “What’s your trick, huh? You breathe glitter? Spit fire? Pull rabbits outta your ears?”

Maureen hesitated. Then she opened one palm. Frost spiraled across her skin, spreading in jagged little veins of ice. Steam curled into the air.

“Ohhh! Cool!” Harley said without missing a beat. “Can you make popsicles?”

Maureen snapped her hand shut like she’d shown too much. “People don’t usually… think it’s cool. They think it’s scary. And I guess, I can make popsicles.”

Harley rolled her eyes. “Sweetheart, I once fought a cannibal and nearly got stomped by a freakin' giant. Scary’s relative. C’mon, you look half-starved. First slice is on the house.”

She hooked an arm around the girl’s shoulders and dragged her across the street before Maureen could argue.

...

[Inside J&H]

The warmth of the ovens hit Maureen like a wall. She froze at the doorway, blinking against the glow of string lights Harley had stapled haphazardly along the ceiling. The place smelled like garlic, basil, and flour.

John glanced up. His gaze lingered on Maureen for a moment, steady and unreadable, before he returned to the cash register.

“Don’t mind him,” Harley chirped. “That’s John. Looks like a brick wall, acts like a brick wall, but secretly he’s a giant teddy bear who snores like a chainsaw.”

“I don’t snore,” John said.

“Liar,” Harley shot back automatically.

Maureen stood awkwardly by the counter, tugging her sleeves down over her icy hands.

"Sit," John said without looking at her.

Maureen took a seat at the corner table, next to the counter.

Harley darted into the kitchen and returned with a steaming plate, slapping down a slice of pepperoni big enough to fold in half.

“There ya go. Eat up before it melts into existential despair.”

Maureen eyed the pizza like it might bite her. Slowly, she picked it up. The first bite was cautious. The second was hungrier. By the third, she was inhaling it like a vacuum.

Harley clapped her hands together. “Attagirl. Nothing heals teenage angst like carbs and grease.”

Maureen swallowed hard. “I’ll pay you back. Somehow.”

“Pfft. You kiddin’? The only currency we accept here is smiles, awkward hugs, and the occasional body disposal. You’re good.”

John set the last stack of bills aside and finally spoke again. “You live around here?”

Maureen froze with the crust halfway to her mouth. “Sometimes.”

“That mean you got a home or not?”

Silence.

Harley smacked John lightly on the arm. “Subtle, big guy. Real gentle.” She crouched in front of Maureen, grinning widely. “Don’t listen to him. He’s got all the bedside manner of a cinder block. You crashin’ somewhere sketchy? Some alley, maybe?”

Maureen looked down at her shoes.

“Bingo,” Harley said. “Alright. New plan. You’re hangin’ with us.”

Maureen’s head shot up. “What?”

“Don’t argue. I can see your ribs through that hoodie, and it ain’t fashion, it’s malnutrition. Plus, I don’t trust Dakota’s streets after dark. Too many creeps with bad breath. You can have my bed, since I'm always crashing in with the cinder block, eat our cereal, maybe help fold pizza boxes if you feel fancy.”

“I don’t want to be a problem.”

Harley ruffled her hair. Frost clung to her fingers, but she didn’t flinch. “Kid, bein’ a problem’s kinda my brand. You’re safe here.” Then she turned toward John. "Can we help her?" She then made puppy eyes. "Please?" She pointed her finger at Maureen. "She got cool ice power. We can make our own slushy and ice cream brand, instead of buying them from outside."

John sighed, the kind of heavy exhale that meant Harley had already won but he needed to make a show of resistance. He set his elbows on the counter and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Harley,” he said evenly, “You want her because you think she’s a walking slushy machine.”

Harley gasped in mock offense. “Excuse you! That’s only, like, sixty percent true. Seventy tops. Maybe eighty if she can do soft serve.”

John’s eyes flicked toward Maureen. The girl shrank into her chair, shoulders rising, as if waiting to be told to leave. Her fingers gripped the remaining little crust of her pizza like it might disappear if she let go.

“Look at her,” Harley said, softening her tone. “She’s one sad Disney montage away from bein’ a tragic ice princess. We can give her a roof. You got any idea how hard it is out there? She’ll freeze her butt off, and that’s sayin’ something.”

“She won’t freeze,” John muttered, glancing at Maureen’s pale skin. “Not with what she is.”

“Okay, wise guy, but she’ll starve. Or worse.” Harley planted her hands on her hips. “You’re the one who made me promise we’d do good here. Feed people, help the community, blah blah blah. She’s people. She counts.”

John’s jaw tightened. He held the silence again for a few seconds. Finally, he leaned back against the counter and folded his arms.

“Fine,” he said. “But there are rules. Roof and food in exchange for help around the shop and chores. I'll pay you for your work too. You don’t work, you don’t stay and you don't get paid. Clear?”

Maureen blinked at him, surprised he had spoken to her directly. She nodded quickly, too quickly, like she was afraid the offer would vanish if she didn’t accept it fast enough.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Don’t call me sir,” John replied. “It’s John.”

Maureen lowered her gaze and whispered, “Okay.”

Harley squealed and practically tackled the poor girl in a hug. Maureen stiffened at first, unused to the sudden warmth and contact, but Harley squeezed tighter, rocking her side to side.

“Welcome to the family, Bluebell!” Harley announced. “Keep your head down, carry your weight, and who knows—maybe one day I’ll even slap your name on the sign. J&H&M Pizza! Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, but hey, neither does mozzarella.”

For the first time all night, Maureen smiled. Just a flicker. Small and Fragile. But it was there.

...

[That Night]

The room Harley cleared out for Maureen wasn’t much. A spare bedroom in the small apartment above the shop. The paint looks new. There was a dresser that leaned slightly to the left, and a twin bed with fresh sheets, the pillow soft, and the blanket heavy enough to bury her under its weight.

Maureen sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily. The warmth of the room wrapped around her like an alien thing. She wasn’t used to it. Not this kind of warmth. Not the kind that seeped into her bones and told her she didn’t have to stay awake to keep watch.

Her hand trailed across the quilt. "So soft." Not a pile of jackets in a train car, not a cardboard box with newspapers shoved inside. Real fabric, smelling faintly of detergent. She drew the blanket around herself and for the first time in years, felt safe enough to close her eyes without bracing for footsteps in the dark.

But sleep didn’t come easily. Memory and guilt came first. Her past and the real reason she was waiting out the joint.

[Shazam] Ch: 17 [Citizen-ish of Dakota City]

AN: Been a while. Big chapter. 2.5k+ words.

---

Life in Dakota City was almost suspiciously good. For Harley Quinn, “good” usually meant something was about to explode, catch fire, or crawl out of a sewer with too many teeth. But here, things had calmed down. The kind of calm that made Harley itch, but in a good way.

She and John had their little pizza joint, J&H Pizza: We Knead You. Harley had hand-painted the sign herself, complete with a cartoon pizza slice holding a revolver and a wink. John insisted the gun was unnecessary. Harley insisted guns were “family-friendly.” They compromised and gave the pizza slice a finger-gun instead.

The shop wasn’t Gotham fancy, but it didn’t need to be. A converted laundromat with scuffed linoleum, two pizza ovens John had repaired from Craigslist scrap, and a counter Harley had painted pink with glitter glue. The glitter never really dried, so customers sometimes left with sparkles on their elbows. Harley called it “brand loyalty.”

Dakota City wasn’t crime-free, not by a long shot, but compared to Gotham or Fawcett? It was paradise. Sure, every other Tuesday some kid with electric powers shorted out a traffic light, or a flying metal dude fought a guy who could turn into gas in the middle of Main Street. But most of the time, it was quiet enough to sling pizzas and yell at John for folding the napkins wrong.

On a good afternoon, Harley zipped around the shop with an apron covered in marinara stains and doodles she’d added with Sharpie. One pocket had a smiley face, the other had “Tips plz or I’ll cry” scrawled in uneven letters.

“Table four wants extra cheese, no olives,” John called from the oven. His voice was steady, calm, like always. If he was rattled, he never showed it.

“No olives?” Harley gasped like she’d just been told the Pope stole her hyena. She stomped toward the table, glaring at the customer like they’d confessed to murder. “Who don’t like olives?”

The guy, a college student with acne and a Dakota U hoodie, raised his hands nervously. “I just… don’t like the taste.”

“You don’t like happiness either? You don’t like joy? You don’t like the glisten of the Mediterranean sun on a tiny little fruit that sacrificed itself to spice up your boring life?” Harley leaned closer until he flinched.

John appeared behind her, gently steering her by the shoulders. “Harley. Order.”

“Fine,” she huffed, spinning back to the kitchen. “But when the man’s sad and lonely in thirty years, remember he turned away the olives.”

John didn’t comment. He slid the pizza into the oven. He never said much, but when Harley was too much—and Harley was always too much—he had this way of grounding her. Just a hand on her shoulder, or a flat “Harley, no.” It worked better than anything else had in her life.

She didn’t admit that out loud. Too mushy.

...

[Harley's self-control & Nightlife]

Harley made a real effort to live normal. She woke up, brushed her teeth (most days), went to work, delivered pizzas on the scooter, came home, watched dumb soap operas with John, and went to bed.

She resisted a lot of temptations. Like the vending machine in the laundromat across the street. It had this smug Snickers bar that always got stuck halfway when other people paid. Every night, Harley stared at it through the window like it owed her money.

“Don’t do it,” John would say without looking up from the cash register.

“I wasn’t gonna,” Harley lied.

And the mall. Oh boy, the mall. Dakota City Mall had a leather jacket that practically screamed her name. A shiny red number with studs down the arms. She pressed her nose against the glass once and drooled a little. The security guard gave her a look.

“I’m good now!” Harley shouted at him, raising her hands. “Reformed citizen. I only steal… uh, hearts. And occasionally pens from the bank, but they chain those things down, so it’s basically a victimless crime!”

She walked away. Without the jacket. Which felt like a personal betrayal of everything Harley Quinn stood for. But she did it because John believed in her.

Of course, “trying to behave” only went so far.

At night, when John was asleep or tinkering with the ovens, Harley sneaked out. Not in her old clown getup—just in a hoodie, sneakers, and a baseball bat she called “Savings Account.”

Dakota City had its share of gangsters and corner thugs. Nothing Gotham-level, but enough to make Harley’s fingers twitch.

So she helped.

In her own way.

“Hey, boys,” she chirped one night, stepping into a back alley where three goons were shaking down a shop owner. “What’s the exchange rate for broken noses these days? ‘Cause I’m about to invest heavily.”

They laughed.

Well, for about two seconds.

Then Harley’s bat cracked across one guy’s jaw, sending teeth scattering like Skittles. The second guy pulled a knife, which she snatched, flipped, and used to cut his shoelaces before kicking him in the knee. He went down like a folding chair. The third ran. Smartest of the bunch.

She whistled, scooping up their wallets and phones. “Thank ya kindly. Don’t worry, I’ll put it to good use. Black market’s open all night, sugarplums.” Surprisingly, she gave back the shopkeeper's money after looting them.

By the time she got home, she had five hundred bucks, two pairs of sneakers, and a pair of gold-plated earbuds. She sold the lot to a shady pawn shop and stuffed the cash in a cookie jar labeled “J&H's Honeymoon Fund.”

John found the jar once. He looked at her. She looked back.

“Uh. Savings,” she said, grinning.

He sighed. Put the lid back on. Said nothing.

...

[Harley vs. The Bubblegum]

Her biggest struggle was bubblegum. Dakota City had these corner stores with giant bins of candy by the register. Rows of shiny pink gumballs in perfect wrapping, just begging for a sticky-fingered klepto.

One afternoon, Harley stood in front of the bin, sweating. The cashier eyed her like a hawk.

“You okay, miss?”

“I’m fine,” Harley said through gritted teeth. She gripped the counter so hard her knuckles popped. “Just… admiring the, uh, craftsmanship. Look at these spheres! Perfect geometry. Galileo would be proud!”

She slapped a dollar on the counter. “Gimme seven.”

The cashier bagged seven pieces. Harley walked out, chewing, proud of herself for buying instead of stealing.

“Character development, baby,” she told herself around a mouthful of gum.

...

[Life with John]

Living with John was nothing like Harley’s old life. For once, there was no need to look over her shoulder every ten minutes, no Joker-shaped shadow waiting to yank her chain. Just John, steady as a brick wall, with a quiet presence that somehow anchored her stormy self.

They shared a small two-bedroom apartment above the shop. John cooked half the time, and when Harley cooked, it usually involved cereal or Pop-Tarts flambé.

He repaired appliances like it was therapy. She painted murals on the walls. The living room now had a giant pink hyena chasing a pizza slice with wings.

At night, despite having two bedrooms, she would sneak into John's bed and curl against him, warm and restless, her leg usually draped across his like she was marking territory. Sometimes she sprawled across him like a starfish or hugged him while snoring into his chest. John never complained. He just shifted enough to hold her steady.

He was a heavy sleeper most nights, but Harley noticed that even when he was out cold, his arms stayed firm around her. Protective. Like some part of him never really let go. She teased him about it one morning, poking his chest.

“You’re like one of them big stuffed bears they sell at Valentine’s. But less fluffy. Yet so cozy. And scarier when you snore.”

John gave a rare small smile. “You’re the one snoring.”

“Was not!” she shot back, though she absolutely had been.

Those moments—the teasing, the quiet smiles—were becoming more common. When they first met, John barely cracked a grin. His face was stone, his voice steady, his eyes always watching the horizon. Now, he smiled at her jokes. Sometimes it was just a twitch at the corner of his mouth, other times a full grin when she went over the top.

She flirted constantly, because that was Harley Quinn’s natural state. She’d saunter into the kitchen in the morning wearing one of his shirts and nothing else, leaning against the counter with a smirk.

“Hey there, Big John,” she purred, “wanna butter my toast?”

He would roll his eyes, but the tips of his ears always went a little red. That was a victory in Harley’s book.

Sometimes she plopped herself in his lap while he was fixing something, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek until he sighed and let her distract him. Other times she’d drag him to the couch, insisting they watch whatever ridiculous soap opera was on, even if he clearly thought the plot was nonsense.

But he watched anyway. With her. Always with her.

Harley never asked about his powers. She never asked what he did before Fawcett, or why he carried that weight in his eyes whenever thunder rolled outside. She figured if he wanted to tell her, he would. And if he didn’t, well, she wasn’t exactly Miss Transparency herself. Everyone had ghosts. She respected his.

What mattered was that he was here. With her.

There was one evening, after closing the shop, when Harley dragged John onto the roof. She brought two beers, a blanket, and an entire pizza balanced on a paper plate. They sat side by side on the edge, legs dangling over the street while the neon sign flickered below.

“You know,” Harley said between mouthfuls, “this ain’t so bad. I mean, sure, I miss the occasional heist, the adrenaline, the kabooms, the chaos. But sittin’ up here with you? That’s nice too. Real nice.”

John glanced at her, the city lights catching in his eyes. And he smiled.

Harley felt her chest squeeze in a way that scared her more than any bat, clown, or metahuman brawl ever had. 'Harl doesn't want to lose him... ever.' She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Don’t get used to me bein’ sappy,” she muttered.

“Too late,” he said softly.

She didn’t have an answer for that, so she just shoved another slice of pizza in her mouth.

...

[Sunday Noon at the Mall]

Sunday in Dakota City felt like Sunday anywhere. Kids screaming at the arcade. Parents dragging their offspring through department stores like reluctant sleds. The smell of buttery pretzels filling the air and clogging arteries in real time.

John wasn’t a mall person. He looked out of place, like someone had picked up a stoic brick wall in a flannel shirt and dropped it in the middle of a Hot Topic. But Harley Quinn? Harley thrived in this environment. If chaos had a food court, it was here.

She bounced ahead of him, pointing at everything like a kid on a sugar rush. “Ooooh, John, look! A Build-A-Bear! Can we build-a-bear? No, wait. Build-a-hyena. Do they got that? Oh, oh! We should get matching Crocs. Pink for me, black for you. No? Okay, fine, but you’re at least gettin’ glitter laces.”

John followed, carrying two shopping bags already. He hadn’t bought anything for himself. Just socks, Harley swore she’d steal if he didn’t get them.

“Harley,” he said, his voice steady as always. “We came here for one thing.”

She pouted. “We can’t just live a little?”

He raised an eyebrow. She sighed. “Fine. One thing.”

That one thing turned out to be the jacket.

The shiny red leather jacket in the window of Dakota City Mall’s overpriced boutique. Harley had been drooling over it for weeks. A dangerous kind of longing, the sort of thing she usually solved with breaking glass and running shoes. But not anymore.

Harley froze in front of the display, eyes wide, palms pressed against the glass like she was watching a long-lost lover walk by. “There it is. The forbidden fruit.” She glanced at John and smirked. [Why not buy it with the money she made from those goons? That money is only for her Honeymoon fund. No compromise on that.]

He didn’t say a word. Just walked inside.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Harley whispered, running after him. “John, no. That thing’s like...” She checked the price tag. Her voice went high. “Oh boy, that’s two months’ rent! That’s three hundred slices of pizza! That’s… that’s highway robbery!”

“Harley,” John said. “Stay outside.”

She stayed. For maybe five seconds. Then she peeked through the door like a raccoon.

John stood at the counter, wallet out, completely unfazed. The cashier boxed the jacket, Harley squeaked, and by the time he walked back out, she was vibrating like a shaken soda can.

He held the bag out. “Here.”

Harley’s eyes went saucer-wide. “No way. You did not. John Mason, you absolute madman, you did not just...!”

She ripped the bag open, pulled out the jacket, and slipped it on in one motion. It fit perfectly. Like it had been waiting for her. She spun, arms wide, the mall lights catching the glossy leather.

“Oh my god. I’m gorgeous. I’m lethal. I’m...” She stopped mid-spin, stared at John, then launched herself at him.

He had no warning. One second she was twirling, the next she was in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, kissing him full on the mouth like a scene from a rom-com with explosives.

For a long second, neither of them moved. Harley’s brain caught up with her body, and her eyes went wide. She pulled back, still clinging to him, stammering like a broken jukebox.

“I—uh—I—look, don’t—okay that was—uh—shut up—”

John chuckled. Actually chuckled. A low, warm sound that made her insides twist in a way Harley Quinn wasn’t prepared for.

“You look good in it,” he said simply.

Harley blinked at him. Then she shoved her face against his chest to hide how red she was turning. “You’re killin’ me here, Mason.”

He didn’t reply. Just held her steady until she hopped down, muttering something about popcorn and changing the subject fast enough to make herself dizzy.

They saw a movie next. Harley picked the loudest action flick she could find. Explosions, car chases, a villain with a robot arm and bad one-liners. She laughed at every corny bit, threw popcorn at the screen when a side character died, and whispered commentary nonstop.

John? Sat through the whole thing without a word. The only time he reacted was when Harley leaned over halfway through and whispered, “You’re totally hotter than that guy.”

His ear turned red. Victory.

...

[Evening at J&H Pizza]

By evening, they were back at the shop. Harley insisted they open late, because apparently “the city needs pizza, John, don’t be a monster.”

Business was steady. A couple of families, some college kids, one guy who ordered anchovies and got a fifteen-minute lecture from Harley about seafood and betrayal. By nine, things had slowed down.

John counted cash at the register, neat stacks forming like little paper soldiers. Harley stretched her legs outside.

She leaned against the doorframe, chewing gum and blowing bubbles so big they almost popped in her hair. She was about to head back in when she noticed something.

Someone was watching the shop.

A girl, maybe 19 or older, half-hidden behind a light post across the street. She was thin, hunched into an oversized blue hoodie, with ripped jeans and shoes that looked like they’d been dumpster-dived. But what stood out wasn’t the clothes.

It was the skin.

Bluish. 

Harley tilted her head. The kid peeked at the glowing “J&H Pizza” sign like it was calling her name, then ducked when Harley spotted her.

Harley grinned.

“Well, well, well. What have we got here?”

---

[Vol-4 END] [Ironman] Ch: 155 [Aftermath]

[AN: Think of this as an interlude chapter. Basically a press conference.]

The battlefield still smelled of scorched metal. Forge lay unconscious in containment, his armor reduced to inert fragments sealed in a secured vault. Across the ruined plaza, Brotherhood mutants and hired mercenaries were shackled, escorted into reinforced cells by the Shield agents. None resisted. Without Sublime whispering in their heads, they were hollow, confused, some even weeping.

Many of those who had been freed clutched their temples. When Sublime’s control lifted, a portion of their memories went with it. Years of servitude wiped clean. For some, it was a mercy. For others, a haunting blankness they would carry forever.

The Ultimates regrouped. Johnny still grinned at the memory of Forge’s humiliation. Natasha leaned against a stair rail, chewing a bubble gum. Wanda sat on the top stairs. She watched the sky return to normal. The others just stayed there till the agents finished their jobs. Elena remotely controlled the robots from the Horizon Base to surround the perimeter and clean up the area.

Tony said nothing that night. He only stared upward, the faint golden residue of the Sublime-killer still drifting in the sky like the last sparks of a dying fire.

[The Next Morning: Press Conference]

The world was watching. Reporters jammed into the hall, cameras lined the stage, and every global network was carrying the feed live.

Tony stood at the podium, the Ultimates behind him. He wore a black suit. His expression was calm as usual.

“Last night, we were attacked. I'm pretty sure some of you experienced sudden memory loss, and some even witnessed the battle from afar. Let me make one thing clear. It wasn't humans or mutants who were responsible for this attack. It was something far older. An ancient bacterial entity known as Sublime.”

He pressed a button on the podium. Screens lit up around the hall. Recordings played of Forge’s possession, Sublime’s voice thundering through him, ranting about enslaving mutants and humanity alike, and how he had manipulated both sides for centuries. The crowd murmured in shock.

“For centuries,” Tony continued, “Sublime has manipulated us. It whispered in ears, twisted events, and created wars. It fed on hate. Human against mutant. Mutant against human. Every riot, every massacre, every broken treaty—none of it organic. All of it pushed by this parasite to keep us divided."

Gasps rippled through the room. Some reporters shouted questions, drowned out by the sheer weight of revelation.

Tony’s gaze swept across the hall, steady, unblinking. “The Ultimates stopped it. Last night, we destroyed Sublime’s hold on this planet. For the first time in history, that voice is gone. Mutants and humans are free from it. But freedom alone isn’t enough.”

He let the words settle, then leaned forward.

“We can’t keep living as if we’re enemies. That conflict was never ours. It was engineered. And it’s time we ended it. Which is why today I’m announcing something new. A second line of defense for Earth. I call it the X-Force. A team led by mutants.”

The name flashed across the screens. Whispers spread like wildfire.

“They won’t answer to governments. They won’t play politics. Just like the Ultimates, their only mission will be to keep this world safe. From invaders. From threats like Sublime. From anything that endangers life on this planet. Humans. Mutants. Everyone.”

He paused, then raised his chin slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth.

“Because after last night, we should all understand something. The real enemy was never each other. It was what wanted us divided.”

The room erupted in a storm of flashes and voices. Some reporters shouted questions about membership, others about whether mutants could be trusted with such power. Tony ignored them all.

Behind him, Wanda, Lorna, and Pietro exchanged glances. 

Tony continued. “Earth now has two guardians."

The flashes didn’t stop. The noise rose like a wave. Tony let it crest, then raised a hand. The room stilled, a thousand voices reduced to scattered murmurs.

“Alright,” he said. “I see the vultures circling. Let’s make this simple. Questions. Keep them short. I’ll keep the answers shorter.”

A woman in the front row shot up, microphone in hand. “Maria Ortiz, Global News Network. You said the X-Force will be mutant-led. Can you confirm who’s leading it?”

Tony glanced over his shoulder. Wanda, Lorna, and Pietro stood silently. “Well, let me build a base for them first, gather a team, do some training, and then we'll see.”

Maria nodded, satisfied.

Another reporter leapt up before she could sit. “Caleb Stern, World Daily. How do you guarantee this X-Force won’t turn on us? Last night might’ve been Sublime, but mutants have caused chaos before. How can humans trust them?”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. Wanda’s eyes narrowed. 

Tony leaned on the podium. He answered calmly. “You’re asking how to trust mutants when Sublime literally spent millennia engineering your fear of them. That’s like asking how to trust your neighbor after learning someone’s been spiking your water supply with paranoia juice for centuries. Maybe give them a chance before you declare them guilty again. Besides, you got your phone, right? Do a quick search. Check the Global crime stats. Tell us all, who caused more chaos throughout history? Humans or mutants? And I think I already showed the evidence. So, who knows how many of them were under Sublime's influence?”

Caleb flushed, his mouth opening to argue, but Tony cut him with a raised finger. “Next question.”

A softer voice broke in from the left. “Amira Khalid, Cairo Post. Mr. Stark, you said Sublime is gone. Is this permanent? Or could it come back?”

That one made the room lean in. Tony nodded slowly. “The Sublime-killer was designed to hunt every bacterial fragment tied to it. I made sure it didn’t just cleanse people. It scrubbed the oceans, the atmosphere, even the soil. Is it permanent? Permanent is a big word. But I’ll tell you this. If Sublime ever finds a way back, we'll be here to put them back into its grave before it can even spread its influence."

A ripple of applause spread through the crowd before the moderators hushed them.

Another voice boomed over the clamor. “Douglas King, Sentinel Network. Mr. Stark, don’t you think creating another super-team is reckless? Governments already have trouble keeping tabs on the Ultimates. Now you’re adding a mutant task force with no oversight? That sounds like dictatorship in disguise.”

The cameras zoomed in. Tony smiled thinly. “Oversight. That’s cute. Here’s the thing, Douglas. Governments had centuries to solve mutant-human relations. They failed. Miserably. They let Sublime play them like puppets. My sources say, some uninfected people helped Sublime to create this rift. So forgive me if I don’t hand the steering wheel back to the same people who drove us into the ditch.”

Douglas sputtered. “So you admit you’re creating a rogue force.”

Tony’s grin widened. “Rogue? No. Effective. Which, in politics, probably feels the same thing.” Laughter broke out across half the hall.

A woman with glasses raised her voice next. “Li Na, Asia Broadcast. Can you share how you chose the name X-Force?”

Wanda actually chuckled softly behind him. Tony tilted his head. “You can call it a coincidence. Or a tribute. Or maybe it just sounded cool. Doesn’t matter. The point isn’t what you call it. The point is what it will do in the future. And what it will do is keep this world from falling apart in case something happens to the Ultimates.”

The next voice was colder, barbed. “Graham Voss, Empire Times. Aren’t you afraid this announcement will embolden mutants who already see themselves as superior? Last night, you gave them a spotlight. What if they decide they don’t want to share the stage with humanity at all?”

The question landed like a challenge.

Tony’s eyes hardened. “You mean, what if the victims of centuries of manipulation suddenly start acting like their oppressors? You’re asking the wrong question. The better one is: how do humans step up so that mutants don’t feel they have to carry the burden alone? Because if you’re waiting for fear to solve this, newsflash—it never has.”

The hall buzzed. Graham sat down, red-faced.

Another hand shot up. “Jacques Moreau, Paris Daily. Mr. Stark, how will the Ultimates and X-Force work together? Separate missions? Or joint operations?”

Tony’s smirk returned. “Think of it like two fire departments. Sometimes they’ll handle different neighborhoods. Sometimes the blaze is too big, and they’ll join forces. Either way, the fire goes out.”

The metaphor landed well. Nods moved across the rows.

One last question cut through. “Shinji Okada, Nippon News. You’ve fought that glowing girl, aliens, and now an ancient parasite. And you said there are more threats out there in the universe. Do you really believe Earth can stand on its own against what’s coming?”

Tony paused, then gave a slow smile. “That’s the question I like. Here’s my answer. For the first time in history, humans and mutants have a shot at fighting on the same side. That makes us stronger than we’ve ever been. And if something’s coming? Well…” He glanced at the team behind him and then back to the camera. “We’ll be ready to slap it in the face.”

The room broke into noise again. Reporters shouting, flashes blinding, questions overlapping. But the message was already planted.

Two teams. One Earth. A new chapter.

---

Next Chapter tomorrow: Stability Serum for Rogue.

Oh, I'll be introducing Pepper after the next chapter.

---

[Ironman] Ch: 154 [Apocalypse & Doom]

[Egypt] [Night]

At the base of a half-buried pyramid, floodlights illuminated a dig site buzzing with activity. A team of archaeologists moved carefully among ancient stones, their voices low but filled with awe.

Dr. Rashid Al-Karim, the expedition leader, adjusted his glasses and studied the hieroglyphs carved into a newly exposed chamber wall. The torchlight flickered across depictions of gods and warriors, but these were different. The figures were distorted, their bodies tall and angular, their heads crowned with strange halos of fire. One central figure loomed over all the others, his eyes carved so deep they seemed to follow Rashid wherever he moved.

“This is not a burial record,” Rashid whispered, brushing away sand from the symbols. “The looks like some kind of warning.”

Beside him, Dr. Evelyn Marks, the site’s translator, frowned as she ran her hand over the same carvings. “These glyphs are older than anything in the pyramid. Pre-dynastic. Maybe older than civilization itself. And here—” She traced her finger across a repeating symbol, a circle pierced by four lines, etched into stone again and again. “This is not Egyptian. This is something else. These people are worshipping a God or some kind of priest. But here, they are killing him for what looks like tyranny... tyrant? I need time to decipher these records.”

The team had all the equipment: radar, portable arc generators, reinforced drills and other necessary equipment. A set of monitors buzzed nearby, mapping out hollow spaces deep below the pyramid. One chamber pulsed bright on the display, larger than anything they had mapped before.

Rashid turned to the crew. “We are opening it tonight. If this chamber is untouched, it could rewrite history.”

The drills bit into the stone. Dust filled the air, clouding the lights. Hours passed, sweat soaking through shirts despite the cool desert night. Finally, the last slab gave way. A hidden passage yawned open before them, black and deep, as if the earth itself had been keeping it secret for millennia.

The team descended with ropes and lights. The passage walls were smooth, not carved by hand but melted, as if something had burned its way through solid rock. Evelyn touched the stone, then pulled her hand back. It was warm.

“This is impossible,” she murmured. "I've never seen anything like this before."

The tunnel opened into a cavernous chamber, untouched by time. Massive pillars rose to the ceiling, carved with symbols older than language. At the center of the chamber lay a colossal sarcophagus of black stone, etched with the same circle-and-lines symbol. Its surface shimmered faintly in the light, like the glow of dying embers.

30 minutes later...

The cavern smelled of dust and age, the kind of air that had not been touched by breath in ten thousand years. Floodlights washed the black sarcophagus in pale light, and every archaeologist present felt the same weight pressing on their lungs. The tomb was not merely old. It was oppressive, as if the stone itself wanted to push them back.

Rashid Al-Karim ignored the unease. He had waited his entire life for a discovery that would secure his place in history, and this was it. Cameras, scanners, and monitors were placed around the chamber, their wires snaking across the floor. Workers marked the perimeter with chalk, mapping the place. Some were recording and snapping pictures. 

Evelyn Marks was reading the murals on the tomb. Her eyes scanned every line of the carvings, her hands tracing the grooves. The repeating symbol of the circle pierced by four lines appeared again and again, always at the edge of the script, like a ward meant to hold something in place. She translated what fragments she could, scribbling notes furiously.

Her lips moved as she pieced together the fragments. “...not a king... not a god... a tyrant. Bound beneath the earth... must never wake... must never...”

She stopped.

“Dr. Marks,” Rashid called out. “Any progress? What do the inscriptions say?”

Evelyn hesitated, then swallowed. “This isn’t a tomb. It’s a warning. Whoever they buried here, they feared him. They tried to erase him from history. These aren’t hymns. They are pleas.”

Rashid gave a short laugh, waving her words away. “Every civilization feared death. They built myths to keep it at bay. This is no different. What lies here is beyond myth. Look at it. A sarcophagus of solid stone, untouched by time. There's a possibility that its occupant is perfectly preserved. Imagine what we could learn.”

The workers, however, exchanged nervous glances. They were men who lived by superstition as much as by wage. The desert was full of stories, and none ended well for those who ignored warnings carved in stone.

Still, Rashid’s authority kept them moving. Hours dragged on as they examined every inch of the sarcophagus. There was no lid, no seam, no mechanism of entry. The black stone was flawless, its surface smooth as glass.

Finally, Rashid ordered the drills to be brought down. The machines roared against the silence of the chamber, their bits sparking against the strange material. But no matter how long they pressed, the drills left nothing but scorched marks. The stone resisted as if it had been forged from something beyond the earth. 

After fifteen minutes of drilling nonstop, they managed to get only a chunk of rock, and for some reason, the drills stopped working. The tech expert checked on it, and it was some kind of glitch in the power supply.

Frustration mounted. Rashid paced, snapping at the workers. Sweat gleamed on his face in the artificial lights. “We will do it the old way. Hammer and chisel. Carve it apart stone by stone if we must.”

Reluctantly, the workers obeyed. They gathered hammers, chisels, and iron rods, then surrounded the sarcophagus. Each strike rang through the cavern like the toll of a bell. Chips of black stone flaked away, releasing faint sparks. Dust clung to the air.

'Weird! It's working with manual labor when the high-powered drills failed?" Rashid thought. Then he dismissed the thought, thinking that the drilling must have weakened the structure.

Evelyn stood apart, her face pale. Every hammer strike seemed to echo inside her skull, a drumbeat that did not belong to the living. She could not shake the feeling that something within the sarcophagus was listening.

Hours passed. The chisels carved grooves into the top, creating the outline of an opening. The stone fought them, but progress was made inch by inch. Rashid urged them on, his eyes feverish with ambition.

Finally, with a coordinated heave, the workers struck together. A crack spread across the surface with a deep, resonant sound that silenced the room. For a heartbeat, no one moved. The chamber itself seemed to hold its breath.

Then the slab shifted. Slowly, the top of the sarcophagus lifted.

A wave of air poured out, stale and heavy, yet carrying with it a faint metallic tang that made every throat dry. The floodlights flickered, though the generators above ground hummed without interruption.

The workers backed away instinctively, crossing themselves, muttering prayers in Arabic. Evelyn clutched her notebook so tightly her knuckles turned white. Rashid alone stepped forward, his face shining with awe.

Inside the sarcophagus lay a figure.

The body was massive, far larger than any human. Its skin was the color of stone, marked with patterns that glowed faintly like molten lines. The figure was armored, though the armor looked fused to its very flesh. Its eyes were closed.

But the chest rose.

Barely... Faintly...

Breath.

Someone screamed. The sound broke the spell, and panic rippled through the workers. They stumbled back toward the ropes, shouting in terror. Rashid barked at them, trying to calm them, but his own voice shook.

The figure’s eyelids fluttered.

A low hum filled the chamber. The symbols on the sarcophagus blazed with golden light, then cracked apart, the stone crumbling as if it could no longer contain what it held. Dust rained from the ceiling. The floodlights surged, then burst, plunging the chamber into darkness.

In the pitch black, only one thing shone: the white eyes of the figure. 

A voice rolled through the cavern, deep and resonant, though the lips barely moved. It spoke in ancient Egyptian.

“ink ʿn Šbḥ Nūr... tpj. ḥˁḥ. gm nfr.”

The workers screamed. Some bolted for the passage, clawing at ropes in blind panic. But they never reached the surface.

The air shifted, thick and heavy. A force pressed down on them, rooting them in place. Their bodies trembled as though invisible hands had seized their bones. One by one they fell to their knees, gasping as the very life drained from their veins.

Apocalypse rose from the sarcophagus, towering, his body radiating power. The carvings on his skin flared as he extended one hand. Wisps of pale light tore from the archaeologists, streams of energy drawn out of mouths and eyes and hearts. Their screams rose, then cut short as their bodies withered.

Skin shriveled. Bones cracked. In seconds, strong men became husks, empty shells crumbling to dust on the chamber floor. Their life essence flowed into Apocalypse, feeding him, restoring what centuries had eroded. His armor gleamed, his form grew stronger, his eyes blazed brighter.

Rashid staggered forward, tears streaking his face. “We came to honor you! We came to awaken history! To know the truth!”

Apocalypse’s gaze fell upon him.

“kꜣi̯.k pḥty.k m rꜥw.” [“You have awakened your own end.”]

Rashid convulsed as his body rose from the ground, suspended by unseen power. His scream echoed once, then cut into silence as his essence was consumed. His body fell empty to the stone, nothing more than a discarded husk.

Evelyn alone remained. She had not fled, though terror locked her in place. Her notebook slipped from her fingers, pages scattering across the floor. She could barely breathe as Apocalypse turned toward her.

“ḫft.k mdw nṯr. šꜣ.k ẖr.w n ḫftjw jri̯.n sḏm ḥr.j. ḏr.sn wi mꜣꜥt. nḥḥ ḫpr m ḥqꜣw. ḥnk.k m-ꜥḥꜥ. ḏd.k mꜣꜥt. ḥr.k šsp.sn rḫt.k wi ḫpr.”

[“You carry knowledge. You read the marks of those who dared defy me. They bound me once. But no chain holds forever. You shall live... for now. You will speak of what you have seen. You will tell them I have returned.”]

The cavern trembled as if the earth itself shuddered at his words. Stone cracked. Sand poured from the ceiling. The black sarcophagus split apart completely, fragments flying like broken teeth.

Apocalypse spread his arms wide. Power surged outward in a ripple of force. The last thing Evelyn saw before fainting was his towering form, glowing like a god reborn, absorbing the life of all who had disturbed him.

When silence returned, only one living soul remained on the chamber floor, lying unconscious among the dead.

Apocalypse was gone.

Sizzzle! A sizzling sound filled the air as a green portal opened. 

A man in a green robe emerged from it. His face was hidden behind a silver mask. His eyes scanned the area, then fell on the unconscious girl. He bent down and checked her pulse. She was still alive.

"The age of Apocalypse and the Horsemen has begun..."

He stood up and looked up at the hole in the ceiling. His eyes glowed green as he clenched his fists. On his right hand was a crystal pendant that was glowing with a purple hue.

"Time to hunt a God."

---

AN: Next couple of chs will be focused on Tony and girls. Slice of life, mars expansion and then we'll come to this new threat.

[Ironman] Ch: 153 [Technopathy]

"Humm..." Tony looked at the timer. 1 minute to go. "Well..." His energy suddenly skyrocketed as his body began to glow brighter and brighter with each passing second. "...Playtime is over."

He raised one finger and pointed at Forge.

Forge smirked, preparing another tirade about Stark's arrogance. The smirk froze.

With a faint hum, his armor buckled. Plates shifted against his will. Lines of energy shorted out like faulty neon signs. Then with perfect, surgical precision, every component began peeling apart. The chest plate split down the center. The gauntlets unraveled like mechanical snakes shedding their skins. The nanites weaving his armor together reversed their bonds, collapsing into their base fragments.

In a heartbeat, Forge's armor was nothing but a floating cloud of stripped-down parts.

Forge's eyes widened. His mind went blank. He had been ready for brute force, for Tony's energy blasts, for shields and counters. He had not been ready for this.

"You…" His voice cracked with disbelief. "…you can control it?"

Tony twirled his finger in the air lazily. The fragments spun around Forge like a halo of knives. "You look surprised. Too much for your little brain?"

Forge quickly gathered his mind and used Remote Technoforming. It allows Forge to biomystically conduct technological refitting with but a few simple words in order to reshape machinery to suit his needs.

"Refit. Mode 1."

The fragments around him bent in defiance of Tony's will, pulling back together like rivers reversing course. Metal flowed, nanites fusing into their armor shapes again. In seconds, the shell returned, locking around him, sealing his body once more.

Forge exhaled sharply, sweat forming on his brow. That had been too close. He snapped his gaze to Tony. He looked angry as hell. "You think you're the only one who can bend machines? I was born for this. I can—"

The words died as agony slammed through his skull. Forge clawed at his helmet. A scream ripped out of him, raw and uncontrolled.

"ARGGGGGGG!"

The words died as agony slammed through his skull. Forge clawed at his helmet. A scream ripped out of him, raw and uncontrolled.

Because he had just tried something dangerous.

He tried to scan the nanites that pulsed within Tony's bloodstream, hoping to twist them, to hijack the technology that turned Stark into something beyond human. But the instant he touched them, a wall of power slammed back. It was as if someone cracked open his skull and poked a knife into his brain while he was still conscious. 

His vision blurred white. His mind felt like it was going to split into molten shards. He broke the connection instantly.

Tony floated there, smirking. "Oh, you tried to touch the toys inside me, huh? Cute idea. Shame for you, my nanites aren't just tech. They're bonded with something that makes you look like a kid sticking a fork in an outlet. Next time, you won't just get a headache. You'll pop like popcorn."

Forge panted, jaw clenched in fury. "You…"

Tony raised his finger again.

Click.

Forge's chest plate unraveled. His shoulders popped open. His helmet fizzled into fragments.

"Not again," Forge growled. He forced Remote Technoforming into play, snapping the armor back.

Click.

The left gauntlet disassembled into fifty floating shards.

Snap.

The right leg bent backward as the nanites broke down.

Forge groaned in frustration, refitting the armor each time, only for Tony to flick his finger again and send it apart. The battlefield became a ridiculous back-and-forth of disassemble and reassemble, like two kids tugging over a toy.

Tony leaned into it. He grinned, eyes alight with mischief.

He snapped his fingers and Forge's comms system blew out with a squeal of feedback that echoed painfully in his ears.

"FUCK!" Forge cursed, clutching his head. "YOU WILL PAY FOR THAT!"

Tony whistled innocently, then flicked his hand. A jolt of electricity surged through Forge's armor, shooting straight into the codpiece. The sound that came out of Forge was half snarl, half strangled yelp.

"Oh man," Tony chuckled. "Did I just zap the family jewels? That's gotta sting. Maybe you should have worn a cup."

Forge's face twisted with rage as he pulled the armor back into shape. "I will kill you!"

"Hold that thought," Tony said. Another flick. The armor's stabilizers over Forge's backside overloaded, sparking into a small fiery burst. Smoke trailed behind him like a cheap firework.

Forge slapped at the flames, teeth bared in humiliation. "You bastard!"

"Oh, come on. Don't act like I'm not entertaining. You've got the whole villain vibe, but right now you look like a toaster having a seizure."

Forge raised his arm to fire an energy cannon. Before the blast could launch, Tony pinched his fingers together. The weapon peeled apart in a delicate unfolding of pieces, leaving Forge pointing an empty gauntlet like a mime with a toy gun. Then some wires around his ass short-circuited, causing a couple of nanites to explode.

The Ultimates on the ground were howling with laughter now. Johnny clutched his stomach, tears in his eyes. "He... hahahaha... He short-circuited his ass! Oh my god!"

Even Natasha cracked a smile. Yelena nearly fell off the stairs with her soda can.

Wanda, arms crossed, was trying to look unimpressed, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

"Hell yeah, blast his ass off," Lorna yelled with a large grin.

Ben transformed back to his human form, "Haaa... That poor kid is never gonna walk straight again."

Forge, meanwhile, was losing composure. His every attempt at attack turned into a humiliating slapstick routine under Tony's control. Sparks showered his face, his weapons misfired, systems rebooted mid-sentence. He was supposed to be a god of mutant-tech fusion. The deal with Sublime enhanced his mutation beyond limits, yet it wasn't enough. He looked like Stark's favorite chew toy.

Tony finally stopped playing. He lifted his hand high, his aura glowing brighter. The fragments floating around Forge vibrated. Then they pulled away from him all at once.

"No!" Forge bellowed, fighting to hold his armor together. His Remote Technoforming was straining. For a moment, he managed to keep the shell intact.

Then Tony clenched his fist.

Every circuit, every nanite, every metallic thread in Forge's creation tore apart simultaneously. The armor exploded into its smallest possible components, scattering across the sky like metallic confetti.

Forge was left floating, exposed, his skin burning with exertion.

"You lose," Tony said simply.

Forge shook his head violently. "No… Sublime gave me—"

The sky above them changed.

Miniature explosions rippled across the sky, faint but countless, like sparks in a dark ocean. They spread in perfect synchronization, detonations too precise to be random.

"Well, time's up," Tony said before letting out a large yawn.

The world looked up as the night became a sea of golden fireflies.

"What did you do?!" Forge yelled. He was barely floating in the air using the boosters that Tony left intact.

Tony's voice carried across the battlefield, calm, final. "I just released the Sublime-killer. Every fragment in the atmosphere is a seed designed to hunt the bacterial lifeform down, track him through his viral essence, and erase him. But it won't kill the host. Impressive, right?"

Forge's eyes widened with horror. "You… you released it globally?"

"Yep!" Tony's grin sharpened. "Think of it as fireworks for a very special occasion. The death of a parasite. Oh, my bad... Ancient Bacterial Lifeform."

The sparks continued to spread, covering the night sky in shimmering clouds of golden light. It was beautiful, almost serene. But Forge could feel it. The connection inside him was fraying. Sublime's voice, once a steady whisper in his mind, became static. 

He clutched his head, screaming, as his stolen strength began to falter. His body convulsed, muscles spasming without control. His armor fragments hung around him, inert, no longer responding.

Tony watched without mercy. "You used humans and mutants since the beginning. You manipulated everything and created hatred against the mutants by manipulating the facts and events. You thought control made you a god. But unlucky you... You met me. You piece of shit is nothing more than a freaking bacteria. And now…" He raised his hand, aura blazing. "…Time to say goodbye."

"The mutants are nothing more than a freaking curse!" Forge's eyes went bright white as Sublime's voice came like a freaking boom box. "I was supposed to rule over them, the very ones who created me. I shaped them. Molded them into tools for my will. They were to be my army, my eternal slaves. And you... You ruined it.”

The ground shook with the force of Sublime’s words. The air itself seemed to shiver.

“A filthy human. Weak, short-lived, crawling vermin who claw at scraps. Your kind were meant to kneel, to serve. To be vessels for my will. They were never meant to rule. Never meant to resist.”

His voice cracked, laced with fury and desperation. “I am older than your kind. I survived extinction after extinction. I AM SUBLIME. I CAN NOT BE KILLED. And make no mistake, I will rise again! You cannot erase me, Stark. I am evolution incarnate!”

But as he raged, the golden dust above spread wider, filling every horizon. One by one, Sublime’s words turned ragged. His grip on Forge’s body faltered. The light in his eyes flickered.

Around the world, hosts shuddered. Everywhere Sublime’s spores had seeded silently for decades—people collapsed, spasmed, then gasped for breath as the infection bled out of them. Black veins faded. White, clouded eyes cleared. Humans and Mutants who had been controlled for years cried out, free for the first time.

The counter agent sank into the earth, into the oceans, into the winds. Everywhere the bacterial threads tried to hide, they were hunted. Every trace of Sublime’s viral essence was burned away by Stark’s design.

Forge’s body jerked like a puppet with cut strings. Sublime’s voice broke into static. “No… no, not like this… not by a human… not by you…” His final scream split the air, half rage, half disbelief. “Mutants were mine! Humanity was mine! You cannot—”

Silence.

Forge collapsed, stripped of Sublime’s power, nothing but a broken man gasping for air. Tony caught him before he could fall. The golden clouds above faded slowly, dispersing until only the stars remained.

For the first time in millennia, the world was free of Sublime.

Tony floated in the sky, watching the last glow vanish. 

“Checkmate.”

...

[Meanwhile...]

Somewhere in Egypt...

A team of archaeologists who were researching a pyramid stumbled upon a giant underground space that looked untouched by time. In the middle of the place was a giant tomb.

[Ironman] Ch: 152 [Forge vs Ultimate Tony Stark]

The explosion scattered fire across the night sky, but from the flames a hulking machine emerged. Its joints screeched, molten fragments dripping off its armor as it pushed through the wreckage.

The giant metal fist slammed into Tony with the force of a missile. He was hurled backward several hundred feet, his body cutting through the sky like a comet. He stopped himself midair, the golden aura around him flaring brighter. Not a scratch.

"Big swing," Tony muttered, rubbing his jaw as if humoring the blow. "Zero damage. Try again."

The machine’s chest began to pulse. Bright blue conduits ran down its arms and legs. On the battlefield below, every Brotherhood mutant screamed at once. Their bodies convulsed as invisible tendrils shot down from the giant mecha and latched onto them, draining the essence that gave them power.

One by one they collapsed. Their powers ripped away, their mutations extinguished. 

Thirty mutants lay scattered, barely breathing. The machine straightened. The light within it shifted, stabilizing into a cold blue glow.

Then it began to change.

Its bulk shrank, metal folding inward. Plates overlapped and reshaped, converting the brute frame into something leaner, more human in proportion. The shifting metal converged around a figure at its core. The armor closed tight around him like a second skin.

The new form hovered in the air. It looked exactly like one of Tony's suits. The faceplate hissed, sliding back with a hiss of steam.

Forge’s face emerged. His eyes glowed faintly with a white glow. His lips curled into a smile.

"Stark," he said, his voice amplified through the morphing suit. "It's time to die. I'm going to show you what happens when technology and mutation fuse together."

Tony’s golden energy crackled as he steadied himself in the sky, eyes narrowing.

"You just stole thirty mutations to make yourself taller. Not to mention, you are using my First Generation Suit's model. I mean, even with Sublime's boost, you couldn't come up with your own model... It's pathetic. Oh, well... Congratulations," he said. "I'm suing your ass for stealing my design."

Forge didn’t answer. His first move was fast. He raised his right arm and pointed two fingers at Tony.

Twin beams of compressed energy cut through the sky, burning a path toward Tony.

Tony braced. The blasts struck him head-on, engulfing him in light.

For a moment, the sky looked like it had split open. Then Tony walked out of the blast, golden aura crackling.

SHHHHHRRRRRK! His energy split the beams in half, sending them scattering wide.

"That it?" Tony tilted his head, unimpressed.

Forge cut the blast and darted forward with superhuman speed. Sparks tore across the air as his body blurred, Quicksilver’s stolen acceleration pulling him into striking range. One moment, he was yards away; the next, his fist was already swinging. [The other Quicksilver. Sublime used Forge to extract his power and the guy is probably dead.]

WHOOOM!

Tony caught the punch with one hand. The air cracked from the impact, as a shockwave rippled through the night, shaking the battlefield below.

"You hit like a truck," Tony said, tightening his grip. "But trucks don’t win against nukes."

He twisted and hurled Forge aside.

He twisted Forge’s arm and sent him spinning. Forge corrected midair and countered instantly. His body twisted unnaturally, bones reshaping under Mystique’s mutation. He experimented on her mutation genes and managed to weaponize her genes to the level of a sentinel. The metal of his armor bent with him, morphing to fit the shifting skeleton. He lashed out with a blade-like protrusion of steel.

Tony dodged. "Wow! You are gonna poke someone's eyes with those forks."

The blade tore a scar through the air where his head had been. Forge slashed again and again, morphing his limbs into weapons.

Tony shot upward. His hands lit up as he raised them, and golden beams exploded outward, cutting through Forge’s attacks. The sheer heat forced Forge back, chunks of his armor melting from the blast.

But Forge recovered. He raised both hands, and a magnetic field ripped through the air. Metallic debris from the destroyed aircraft and battlefield below launched upward, pulled by Magneto’s stolen gift. Dozens of twisted shards and metal chunks swirled together, forming a storm of weapons.

Tony glanced at the storm. His aura pulsed. "So, you've been using the Brotherhood to absorb their mutation and cause chaos to increase the hate for the mutants, huh?"

With a flick of his wrist, his own energy surged outward, catching the storm of metal. The debris halted, frozen in midair, caught between Forge’s stolen magnetism and Tony’s raw cosmic force. 

"Cute trick, but it's useless," Tony said with his usual arrogant grin.

Sparks rained down like shrapnel.

Forge roared, pushing harder. His suit glowed brighter, blue veins of energy flaring as Sublime’s influence amplified him. Tony clenched his fist and the golden aura expanded in a shockwave.

Booom!

The entire metal storm shattered into dust, fragments vaporized in an instant.

Lorna and the others looked up, shielding their eyes from the golden blast, watching as Tony pushed Forge back with sheer dominance.

But Tony felt it. Deep in his chest. A faint tug, almost like a drain. The golden aura flickered for half a second, then stabilized. 'Energy drain!' He opened and clenched his fists a couple of times, checking the energy level.

Forge noticed. His grin widened. "You feel it, don’t you? My system is pulling your energy. Every time you flex that pretty glow, I absorb a portion of it."

"Rogue's mutation? Ah! Let me guess, you sent an infected doctor to the hospital where Rogue went for a check-up when she first awakened her power. Then, over the years, you managed to harness her power and probably evolve it to absorb power without touching. Interesting," Tony revealed his deduction as he touched his chin as if he was in deep thought and couldn't care less about the battle. Then he mumbled, "Humm... With a bit of a tweak and if I can reverse No.2X with S33Y... It's possible."

"You bastard! Where the hell are you looking?" Forge screamed in rage and lunged again, this time shifting his body mid-charge. His arms elongated unnaturally, stretching with a grotesque mimicry of Toad’s mutation. The suit reinforced the extension, turning his limbs into metal whips. They lashed across the sky, cracking like thunder.

WHIPPP-CRACK! WHIPPP-CRACK!

Tony dodged between them with controlled bursts of speed. His aura flared as he zipped forward and struck Forge with a straight punch to the chest. The blow lit up the sky, the sound echoing like a cannon.

BOOOOM!

Forge flew back, his armor tearing apart from the hit. But even as he tumbled, his body twisted again. His wounds sealed with accelerated healing, courtesy of another stolen mutant. His chest plates reformed, and his grin returned.

"You’re wasting energy," Forge taunted, his voice carrying over the battlefield. "Keep going. Burn yourself out for me."

Tony ignored the words and attacked again. He moved like a comet, golden trails burning behind him. He slammed into Forge with a barrage of blows. Each strike cracked armor, bent steel, and forced shockwaves across the air. Forge blocked, countered, and reshaped his form, but Tony kept hammering.

The sky lit up like a warzone. Every collision of energy shook the night, the flashes visible for miles.

Below, Pietro’s eyes tracked every movement, his jaw slack. "He’s beating the shit out of that Cyborg."

Wanda frowned as she summoned her chaos energy over her palms. She was ready to jump in if things got bad. "Not for long. Look closer. Tony’s energy is flickering."

She was right. With each massive hit, the golden aura around Tony dimmed just slightly. Forge’s suit kept glowing brighter in return, absorbing trace amounts of the energy with every clash.

She then looked toward Natasha and the other Ultimates. 

Well, they were sitting on the stairs, eating and drinking as if they were watching a movie.

"What the hell are you all doing?" Wanda asked with her voice raised a bit. She couldn't believe her eyes that they were having a party in this situation. 

"What?" Yelena asked as she popped a can of melon soda and took a chug.

Wanda's left eye twitched a bit.

"We are hungry," Johnny said with his usual grin.

"Tony is about to lose. His energy is depleting at a massive rate," Wanda said, pointing at the sky.

"Lose? Tony?" Natasha said, raising an eyebrow, and then everyone began to laugh hard. 

"Hahahahaha! Good one," Yelena said.

"What the hell is wrong with you all?" Wanda asked again.

"Here," Yelena threw a can of soda at Wanda, who caught it with one hand. "Just drink and chill. There is no way he's losing. He's barely using 20% of his power, right now."

"You serious?!" Lorna flew down near the stairs. The enemies on the ground stopped fighting after the healing stopped and Lorna pinned them all to the ground with metal cuffs.

"Yep! Just keep watching. You'll see soon," Sue said as she threw a few popcorn into her mouth.

Back in the sky...

Forge countered hard, shifting again. His body swelled with brute strength as he mimicked Sabretooth’s ferocity, claws of metal ripping outward. He caught Tony with a slash across the chest. Sparks flew as golden energy resisted the strike, but the force still knocked Tony back a few meters.

Tony steadied himself midair. His jaw tightened. He was still unharmed, but the drain in his power was undeniable now.

"Alright," Tony said as he cracked his neck and stretched his legs. "You’re more annoying than I thought."

Forge laughed. His eyes glowed brighter, his body surging with stolen power. "And you’re weaker than you pretend."

He spread his arms. Lightning arced across his body, another stolen ability sparking to life. Bolts of raw electricity cut across the sky, converging on Tony from every direction.

ZZZZZKKT!

Tony braced, his aura shielding him as the lightning struck. The air sizzled with the collision, the night torn apart by light and thunder. When the storm ended, Tony hovered untouched, though his glow had dimmed again.

"Humm..." Tony looked at the timer. 1 minute to go. "Well..." 

His energy suddenly skyrocketed as his body began to glow brighter and brighter with each passing second. 

"...Playtime is over."

---

AN: Before you say anything about the cliff, I apologize. There's rain and a storm in my area. The electricity went off.

[Ironman] Ch: 151 [The Healer’s Shadow]

Mystique’s body rippled, her form shifting until she became the blue-skinned mutant, her yellow eyes were gleaming. She smirked, clearly believing she could talk her way out of this.

"You're not really going to do this, are you, Lorna?" Mystique's voice was smooth, almost coaxing, as she took a step toward the younger mutant. "You know we can do so much more together. Join me, and I can help you... free your father. Free yourself. Don't believe what they say to you about your father. They are liars. You don’t have to stay here, hiding behind Tony Stark’s tech. You’re more than that, Lorna."

Lorna didn’t flinch. Her eyes narrowed, her HUD flickering with data as it scanned Mystique. The results came back instantly: Infected. Sublime’s bacterial signature was coursing through her veins.

"You're infected," Lorna said.

Mystique’s grin faltered, just for a moment. But she quickly recovered, shrugging as if to brush off the accusation. "You don’t really believe that, do you? You're being manipulated, Lorna. You have no idea what you're doing. This... this isn't an infection. This is a gift. You’ll see that, eventually."

Lorna didn’t respond. Instead, she clenched her fist as her nanite suit shifted, the edges of her gauntlets pulsating as they morphed into a mini missile launcher. Five missiles' tips were visible, and there was a blue glow.

"Non-lethal form: electric homing missiles." Hermes's voice came to her ears.

Mystique, sensing the sudden shift in Lorna’s stance, dashed toward her. She was fast—too fast for most and a wristwatch-like device on her wrist glowed with a blue hue as nanites rushed out and coated her fist with a metallic sheen.

But Lorna got a suit and nanites way better than hers. 

"Lock on and fire," Lorna fired the mini missiles. The projectiles shot out, streaking through the air with precision. Mystique tried to evade, flipping and twisting in midair, but the missiles tracked her effortlessly, locking onto her movements like hungry hounds. Each missile detonated with a pulse of electrical energy, sending jolts of current into her limbs and locking her in place.

Mystique’s attempts to fight back were futile as her body seized, her movements twitching under the shock. Before she could recover, Lorna raised her hand again, this time to create a shimmering energy field that surrounded Mystique in a nearly invisible cage.

The forcefield hummed, and Mystique slammed her fists against the barrier, but it held firm. "You think this is going to stop me?" Mystique snarled, her voice laced with venom. "You bastards with fucking technology! You bastards are always ruining my plans. How dare you? You think technology can beat us? There are hundreds of thousands of us." 

Lorna’s face remained calm. "Shut up." She shot Mystique with another zap of electricity. "Freakin' parasite with a nasty mouth." She amped up the voltage till Mystique went unconscious. 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Lorna turned, her sensors scanning the area. Her stance immediately shifted, her arm raised as a reflex.

Out of the shadows, a familiar voice broke the tense silence.

"Nice job," Tony said, stepping into view, his hands in his pockets and a slight grin on his face. He surveyed the scene—Mystique contained and unconscious, and Lorna standing poised, ready to act.

Lorna’s eyes narrowed, her muscles coiling with tension. She quickly scanned Tony, the readings flashing across her HUD.

The results came back clear.

Tony raised an eyebrow, noticing the subtle change in her posture. "Nice suit, huh?"

She lowered her hand.

"Sorry," she muttered. 

Tony gave her a brief nod. "It's fine. You can never be too careful," he said, his voice easing the tension in the air. "You’re doing a good job. But I’m afraid we’re not done just yet."

Lorna looked back at Mystique. "What now?"

"Now," Tony said, "We are gonna fight. Let's give our team a breather."

"Wait! We?" She said with an excited expression. "You are gonna let me join in the fight?"

"Yeah, why not. I want to see your real power. So, you'll take the lead. But first," He bent down near Mystique and pressed his palm over the forcefield. It disappeared with a little hum and then Tony released the nanites with the cure into her body. "Let me destroy this parasite."

"ARGGGGGGG!!!!"

Mystique’s body jerked, her spine arching violently as the infection inside her writhed against Tony’s cure. Her scream echoed off the metal walls, a piercing wail that seemed to reverberate through Lorna’s bones. She could see the writhing bacteria, the twisting, pulsing mass of Sublime, desperately trying to adapt, to fight, to survive. But the cure Tony had unleashed was far more powerful than anything Sublime had ever encountered.

For a moment, it looked like Mystique’s entire body was going to tear apart at the seams. Her skin rippled, shifting hues, her bones elongating unnaturally as the infection fought for control. Then, with a violent spasm, her body collapsed into a heap, the bacterial lifeform inside her flickering out like a dying flame.

Mystique's eyes opened. But her eyes were glowing with a white hue.

"How did you create a counteragent in such a short time? How? I've survived and evolved since the beginning of the first lifeform, yet... A kid like you... My dreams. My rule... You..." She pointed a finger at Tony. "I can feel it. The energy of a Gem. Ah! I see... Hahahaha. So, it has begun. The Gems have begun to manifest themselves in this era. We have waited for its return since before your species crawled. Yet..."

Then, with a wisp of air, her body slumped on the floor. 

Tony stood back up. “That’s it. The infection’s gone.” His right arm transformed into a gauntlet. "Let's put up some safety measures." He launched two drones from his gauntlet. The drones then flew over Mystique and released a force field around her.

"Gem?" Lorna asked with a curious expression.

"Don't think too much about it. I'll tell you in due time. For now, let's give our friends a hand, shall we?" He said while cracking his knuckles. 

...

[Outside]

Lorna flew into the air. Below her, the battlefield was a chaotic mess of gunfire, explosions, and the screams of soldiers and mutants alike. Her HUD flashed with incoming data, showing movement patterns and threats. With a flick of her wrist, she shifted her focus to the ground forces, a team of mercenaries and mutants still entrenched in their assault. The metallic ground around them began to creak and shudder as she willed the metal beneath her to rise. It moved at her command, twisting into jagged spires and rising walls of debris.

Tony followed close behind. His eyes flicked to his HUD, watching the timer count down. Seven minutes. In seven minutes, the cure would blanket the planet, destroying every last trace of Sublime. The race against time was on, but the chaos on the battlefield wasn’t about to let up. Not yet.

"Alright, team," Tony’s voice crackled through the comms. "Fall back and take a breather. This is a momentary retreat. I want everyone to rest up and enjoy the show."

He watched as the Ultimates regrouped, pulling back from the front lines. The mercenaries and mutants, in their disarray, didn't know what hit them. Now, it was Lorna’s turn to lead the charge.

Tony's face plate retracted as he shot Lorna a grin. "This is your show, kid. Go wild, but no killing."

Lorna’s eyes glinted with excitement, her gaze turning to the mass of enemies below. "Understood." Her voice was cold, but there was an eagerness to her tone as she angled herself downward, diving toward the battlefield.

The ground below erupted as she slammed her fists down, sending shockwaves through the area, knocking mercenaries off their feet. The metal in the surrounding area trembled and surged toward her like it was alive, forming deadly projectiles that she hurled with brutal precision, piercing the enemies' arms and legs, nothing too fatal.

'Nice control,' Tony thought. He was impressed by her precision.

A group of mercenaries got instant heal, and they stood up and shot Lorna. But the metal bullets stopped midair around her. Another group fired multiple RPGs, but the projectiles got frozen in the air. 

Lorna threw the RPG projectiles into the sky.

A deafening chain explosion rippled through the sky. 

Lorna then flicked her finger, sending the bullets back at the enemies. But as usual, she made sure not to kill them.

But they were healed again.

"Tsk. Where the hell is the healer?" She continued her assault. 

"Dang! She's good," Pietro said, impressed. 

"Of course, she is good. She nearly killed Shaw," Wanda replied as she leaned against the wall.

Meanwhile, Tony zoomed in on the battlefield with his enhanced vision, scanning the area for that healer bastard. His eyes flicked skyward. There—hidden above the clouds—a faint glimmer. A stealth aircraft. 

"Ah! There you are, sneaky bastards," He grinned. 

He shot a glance at Lorna below, her suit shimmering as she tore through the battlefield, effortlessly dispatching enemies with calculated strikes. She didn’t need backup for now.

"Stay on the ground," Tony’s voice came through her earpiece. "I’ve got a job up top."

Lorna didn’t even look up as she ripped another group of mercenaries apart, the sound of their cries swallowed by the chaos of war. "Got it," she responded, her tone focused. "But don't take too long. These guys aren’t going down easily."

Tony adjusted his trajectory mid-air, rocketing toward the stealth aircraft above. His scanners locked onto it, but something was interfering with the signal. The ship was using a disruptor strong enough to block his scans, making it impossible to get a clear read on the interior. Tony’s grin widened.

"Forge," he muttered to himself, eyes scanning the edges of the craft. "Always one step ahead."

Tony's armor disappeared as he retracted the nanites into his bloodstream. Then he activated his cosmic power. 

A burst of golden light lit up the night sky.

[Booom!] Tony blinked before the aircraft almost instantly and punched it hard enough to shatter it into pieces. The aircraft exploded.

Instantly, a giant metal fist appeared before his face.

---

AN: Sorry about the slow updates. I was attending a couple of interviews.

[Ironman] Ch: 150 [The Ultimates vs Sublime]

[One Hour Later – Tony's Lab] [Shield base]

The hum of Tony's equipment filled the lab. Robotic arms moved across the workbench as he layered chemical agents with cosmic radiation. He was building a bio-weapon that could tear Sublime out at the cellular level without harming the host. His visor lit with streams of calculations, hundreds of simulations running per second. Still, every few moments his gaze flicked to the surveillance wall.

Outside, war had broken loose.

The Brotherhood, the Hellfire Club, and multiple groups of mercenaries were hammering the Shield Base. The feed showed them hitting the perimeter with shock cannons, drones, and enhanced mutants. The base shook with each blast, but the adaptive shields were holding just fine.

The Ultimates were already in the fight.

Tony knew that Forge was with the Brotherhood, and there was a possibility that he was nearby and analyzing his tech. So, he simply told the team to use the basic suits for this battle.

[Outside]

Natasha cut through the mercenaries like a ghost from within their ranks thanks to the stealth mode that rendered her invisible. The nanite suit shimmered over her body, every movement calculated and precise. She used non-lethal weapons for now.

"To think all these people are being controlled," She said while shooting electric darts.

Yelena fought right beside her. Where Natasha was surgical, Yelena was ruthless. "Hahaha! This is so fun. One for you, one for you, and you can have two," She laughed while throwing shock discs that stuck to mercenaries and detonated with crackling energy. The suits they wore had adaptive resistance, but they were not perfect. Yelena moved fast, closing gaps before enemies could reset and beat the shit out of them with a happy smile.

Johnny scorched the battlefield from above. He rained fire on armored vehicles and drones, forcing enemy lines to scatter. The counter-tech in their suits dampened some of his heat, but it didn't make them immune.

Nat yelled from below, "Johnny, incoming reinforcement up north."

He noticed the oncoming helicopters and jets. "Leave it to Johnny." He turned the sky into a wall of flame, cutting off the air reinforcements.

Ben was on the ground, holding the line against waves of enhanced mutants. His rocky fists smashed through their energy shields like paper. They hit him with flame, electricity and even threw poison darts at him, but it was useless against him.

"That barely tickled," He smashed his fists on the ground, creating a massive shockwave that threw those mutants away a few feet from their location.

Janet van Dyne zipped through the chaos. She shrank to avoid targeting systems, stung mercenaries with focused plasma shots, then returned to full size to slam them into the dirt. She darted around Ben's bulk, keeping his blind spots covered.

Sue was the shield. She was easily nullifying the barrage of attacks and using her shield to annoy the enemies. Explosives detonated harmlessly against her walls of light. She pushed enemies back with bursts of invisible energy, then covered Johnny when he needed to recharge.

Ghost was phasing through squads to rip out weapons or disable suits with surgical strikes. The mutants targeted him, but Ghost kept moving, always two steps ahead, his voice crackling in their comms: "You're wasting your bullets and power."

Pietro blurred across the battlefield. He was disarming enemies, stealing weapons, punching those mutants who picked on him or badmouthed him behind his back during his time in the Brotherhood, and tripping them before they even realized he was there. He worked with Wanda in tandem, dragging enemies into her line of sight before darting away.

And Wanda… Well, let's just say those poor bastards will feel the pain even after this battle is over.

Her chaos energy tore apart drones midair. She ripped weapons from soldiers' hands, bent metal into cages, and detonated enemy mechs from the inside out. She even squeezed out multiple Sublime's bacteria from the enemies and destroyed them with overwhelming power. If there were fifty or even a hundred infected, she could have squeezed the bacteria from their bodies, but before her were too many infected. She wanted to use a grand scale move, but without proper control, she could kill everyone. So, she was taking it slow.

"Where the hell did they get these mechas? Where the hell are our mechas?" Pietro asked as he stopped before Wanda.

"That's why I keep telling you to listen and read the files," Wanda said with a sigh. "There's a mutant who can analyze technology and counter them. So, we are keeping it as simple as possible without involving high-tech suits and mechas."

[Inside the base]

Lorna stayed inside, suited up and restless. Tony had ordered her to defend the inner base, not the outer battlefield. Her HUD displayed the fight in real time. She clenched her fists each time she saw mercenaries swarming her siblings.

She wanted to fight. Every part of her screamed to throw herself into the fray. But she also knew Tony's order wasn't optional. If the base fell, if the labs were breached, the entire war would be lost in seconds. So she stayed ready.

[Back to Tony]

Tony's eyes narrowed at the surveillance feed. Something was off.

The mutant power suppressors weren't working even after cranking them to max settings. The Brotherhood mutants in the fight weren't just resisting—they were wearing nanite suits that countered his own tech. He zoomed in on the footage, pausing on the signature of the energy fields.

Forge.

Tony grinned despite himself.

"Finally," he muttered. "A worthy challenge."

He refocused on the weapon. The nanite assembly completed another stage, layering the silvery liquid with Tony's cosmic energy. The design was ready, but the calibration needed absolute precision. One mistake and the bioweapon would burn out human hosts along with Sublime. He worked fast but meticulously, hands steady even as the base shook from impacts outside.

[Outside]

The Brotherhood's main team pressed harder.

Mystique led squads of mutants, her shifting form sowing confusion. One moment she was a mercenary, firing from behind their own lines. The next she was Natasha, causing allies to hesitate before Yelena cut them down.

"Darn it! The scanners aren't working on the mutants. They got adaptive nanites. And just as Tony predicted... Forge is upgrading them on the go. Be careful, everyone," Natasha warned the team.

"Can't we just shoot them with the cure?" Janet flew down and stood beside her.

"That's what they want," Natasha replied. "If we do that, I'm pretty sure they will twist the scenario and will put the blame on us for curing mutants against their wishes. Then they will say that they attacked because we are forcefully curing them and experimenting on them. We need to get rid of that parasite first."

"Ah! The same old tactics. I guess they are on standby and just waiting for us to make a mistake. Probably, some journalists or news channel guys. And, looks like they got a healer mutant among them. So, it's gonna be a long night," Janet replied as she shot multiple bioelectric darts toward a group of mutants.

Blob waded into the fight, shrugging off plasma fire from the nearby turrets as his bulk absorbed hit after hit.

"What the hell are you? A blob of fat?!" Ben said as he looked at Blob.

"Did you just call me Blob?" Blob shifted his attention toward Ben. His fist was already before Ben's face.

"Yeah. What are you gonna do about it?" Ben Grimm stepped forward to meet him, the ground cracking beneath their blows as rock met immovable flesh.

Avalanche shook the battlefield, sending shockwaves that cracked the base's outer walls. Sue reinforced them instantly, but the shockwaves rattled her bones. Pietro blurred across the tremors, pulling teammates clear of collapsing ground.

Sue wrapped Avalanche inside her barrier and yanked him up into the sky before slamming him down on the ground.

Colossus slammed into Johnny mid-flight, his steel form gleaming even under flames. Johnny blasted him point-blank, but it wasn't enough to hurt his organic steel. The two crashed into the ground in a fiery explosion.

Wanda's chaos magic flared, throwing Colossus back.

"Thanks, Red," Johnny said with a salute before throwing a beam of fire at Colossus, before he could get back up. "Time to heat up the silver kettle."

...

[Back to Tony]

Tony barely blinked at the chaos on the screens. He trusted his team. His job was to end Sublime before this infection became unstoppable.

The weapon was almost ready. The containment vials pulsed faintly with the bacteria Wanda had extracted earlier. They reacted to his presence, as if aware of what he was building.

“Not today,” Tony muttered. “You don’t get to win.”

The nanites shifted, sealing the bioweapon into dispersal modules. He coded delivery systems, keyed to his network. Airborne and injectable.

The lab in his main base has already created enough dosage to cover the Earth's atmosphere. 

"Hermes, deploy them," Tony tapped the command.

"Affirmative. The cure will be airborne in 10 minutes," Hermes replied.

"Nice," Tony said, standing up and cracking his knuckles. His eyes went toward a red blip on the base map. "Using the chaos to infiltrate, huh?! Probably, Forge or Mystique. Well, time to stretch my legs."

...

[Meanwhile]

Mystique took advantage of the chaos and used her shapeshifting ability to enter the base. Her main goal is to locate Magneto and the others and free them. But she stopped when she saw Lorna standing near the blast door that leads directly to the cell.

"Going somewhere?" Lorna said as she aimed her palm toward Mystique, who was in Tony's form. The repulsor point glowed on her palm.

[Ironman] Ch: 149 [Sublime]

Sublime was the self-appointed name of a sentient bacterial life-form that arose during the beginnings of life on Earth. With the rise of multicelluar lifeforms, Sublime found endless numbers of hosts it could infect. However, mutantkind, immune to its infection, eventually arose and multiplied, becoming the first threat to its domination.

The very hatred and fear of mutants was caused by Sublime itself. But the bacteria took more direct actions in order to ensure that the mutant population would be held in check, if not exterminated, in order to keep it from becoming the dominant species of the planet. 

However, the big question was if the mutants are immune, then how the hell did Shaw get infected? 

Well, the answer was simple. It evolved. 

Tony activated the cryo protocol at max power. The cell’s environmental systems hissed as the cryogenic liquid flooded the cells. Shaw’s smugness froze on his face, literally, as ice crystallized across his skin. Emma Frost, in the other cell, was also locked in a suspended state. The entire process took less than 10 seconds.

"What are you...?" Wanda mumbled but noticed the grim expression on Tony's face. 

Tony scanned the base with the energy of the Mind Stone. Luckily, no one was infected. Then he quickly added the data to Hermes and upgraded the scanners in all his bases. Thanks to the adaptive nanites, it took less than a minute. Then he scanned Horizon Base, the Starfire Base and all the Shield bases for traces of Sublime. The Horizon and Starfire bases were safe, but some of the Shield agents were infected.   

"Hermes, tag them and keep an eye on them. If they try to do something funny, zap them and put them in cells," Tony ordered.

"Affirmative, boss," Hermes replied.

Finally, he turned the Stone's energy inward. The sensation of scanning himself was always unsettling. It was like seeing the blueprint of his own mind layered over his body. The results came back clear. No infection, no latent signals, nothing alien embedded in his system. He let out a breath he did not realize he had been holding.

The absence of infection in them did not change the larger problem. If Sublime was here, then it already had hosts elsewhere. There was no telling how many. Sublime’s strategy had never been about single targets. It spread itself across populations, hiding in plain sight until its influence was so entrenched that removing it meant tearing out the heart of a civilization. Somewhere out there, it had a hoard of infected bodies, and they could be anyone... like those Shield agents, for example.

"Well," He looked back at Wanda. "We got a big problem on our hands and... I need your help." 

"What can I do?" Wanda asked as she walked over to him.

"You can control others' biology to the cellular level, right?" Tony asked.

"Yeah, I can turn anyone into a bloody meatball without killing them if I want," She replied as she raised her right hand a bit and summoned a ball of chaos energy. 

"Okay, that's great and slightly disturbing. Anyway, I need you to extract a bacterial lifeform from Shaw's body without killing him if possible. And I know there are many bacteria and germs living in a human body, so... I'll give you the information you need. Don't resist," Tony touched the right side of his forehead as his eyes glowed with a yellow hue. He transferred the information about Sublime and its structure directly into Wanda's mind.  

He could have extracted it with his nanites or used his cosmic energy to purge that freak of nature, but he simply wanted to check out Wanda's power with his own eyes. 

Wanda’s expression changed the moment the knowledge settled into her mind. Her pupils dilated, and a flicker of unease passed across her face before it was replaced by cold focus.

“You gotta be kidding me! You are telling me that thing has been manipulating human history for millennia?” she was surprised. "I didn't even detect it when I manipulated his genes." Her gaze shifted toward Shaw, frozen in his cryo-prison. “If it can evolve to infect mutants and even upgrade their power, then no one is truly safe anymore.”

Tony gave a short nod. “That’s why we’re not going to give it a chance to adapt again. Extract it from their bodies.”

Wanda stepped forward, her right hand raised. The sphere of chaos energy in her palm pulsed, the red light shifting into a deeper crimson shade than before.

She closed her eyes, feeling beyond Shaw’s frozen skin, past the blood, nerves, and bone, down to the microscopic world inside him. It was not like reaching for a single organism. Sublime’s presence felt like an oily stain that had soaked into every part of him. She pinpointed its structure instantly thanks to the data Tony had shared, locking on to it with surgical precision.

The sphere in her hand swelled and drew the bacteria toward it. As each cell of the infection tore free from Shaw’s body, they gathered inside the red energy, suspended in a writhing cluster. When she had every trace, she sealed it into a tight, humming orb. The light within the orb flickered as if the thing inside was trying to escape, but her control was absolute.

“One down,” she said.

She walked to Emma Frost’s cell. The process was faster this time, Wanda’s power sliding into the same microscopic hunt. The second sphere of chaos energy formed, the crimson glow enclosing another pulsing cluster of the alien bacteria. When she was finished, she held both spheres aloft for Tony to see.

“They’re contained. For now,” Wanda said. "But they are trying to send some kind of telepathic signal."

Tony studied the spheres for a moment, his mind already calculating contingencies. “Good. Cut their telepathic link. I don’t want them warning the others.”

Wanda’s eyes glowed faintly as she extended her influence toward the two floating orbs. She severed the thin, glistening threads that connected them to the larger mental network. The connection snapped in silence, leaving Sublime isolated.

“It’s done,” she confirmed.

“That buys us time,” Tony said. “Not much, but some. The others will notice when two of their hosts drop off the grid. They might not know why, but they’ll suspect. When that happens, they won’t just hide. They’ll act. If we’re not ready, they’ll do something we can’t take back.”

He turned to his wrist display and opened a secure channel. “Ultimates, we have a situation,” he said as soon as the line was live. “Potential planetary-level threat. Possible infiltration vector is a bacterial lifeform called Sublime. It can adapt to infect mutants. It can also shapeshift, take over humans, and influence thoughts and decisions without the host realizing it. Be on guard and keep the suit on for safety. I’ll send the biological signature so your systems can flag it immediately.”

Tony tapped a few commands and transferred the information to them. Then he continued...

"Melina, take your group and keep my parents safe. Elena, take over the surveillance and tag every single infected person and animal. The rest of you, come to my coordinates I am sending and be ready to act at any moment. Meanwhile, I'll prepare a nasty surprise for these fuckers. Tony, out."

Tony stepped closer to Wanda, his hands already in motion as adaptive nanites streamed from his palms, weaving together into two elongated glass vials reinforced with a thin lattice of vibranium. They settled into his hands with a faint metallic chime.

“Transfer them in here,” Tony said, holding the vials out. “I’m not taking any chances with containment.”

Wanda gave a short nod. The two crimson spheres floated forward, their light dimming as she compressed them into tight, dense cores. She lowered them into each vial with slow, deliberate control, sealing the writhing clusters inside. Once the orbs were fully enclosed, Tony’s nanites sealed the tops with airtight, adaptive caps that shimmered faintly with an energy field.

“They’re secure,” She said, watching as the light in the vials pulsed once before fading to a steady, muted glow.

“Good. Now you stay here and defend this base until the Ultimates arrive,” Tony instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The connection is already cut, which means the others will notice. There’s a ninety percent chance they’ll strike here first to recover what we’ve taken. This base becomes the choke point. Hold them back till I create a bio weapon that will erase them from existence.”

Wanda cracked her knuckles with a smile, "Well, this night is getting better and better."

Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out three bracelets, each one etched with faint glowing patterns. He handed them to her.

“Nanite suits,” he explained. “For you, Pietro, and Lorna. They’re keyed to your biometrics and linked to my network. You’ll have full combat support, medical nanites, and environmental shielding. Don’t take them off unless you want to end up as Sublime’s next petri dish.”

"Cool! So, this means we are now the Ultimates?" She asked.

"Yup! After this mess, I'll throw a big welcoming party for you all," Tony replied, and then he quickly went to the lab in that base. 

[Ironman] Ch: 148 [The Weapon and the Leash]

Tony crossed the room, stopping just a few steps from her. His expression shifted from casual to something sharper, more deliberate.

"I heard what you did out there," he said. "Holding off Shaw like that, especially when you just figured out what you can do… That’s not a small thing. Most people in your position would have panicked, burned out, or gotten themselves killed. You didn’t. You held your ground, and thanks to you, Wanda bagged two key players in the underground crime world. Sebastian Shaw and Emma Frost. That’s a clean win in my book."

Lorna blinked at him, her mind momentarily blank. She was used to being underestimated, dismissed, or treated like a liability. Hearing the opposite, especially from Tony Stark, made her excited.

She shifted her weight, crossing her arms, trying to hide the heat rising in her face. "I… didn’t really have a plan," she admitted. "It was mostly just not wanting to die."

Tony’s grin widened. "Survival is the foundation of good strategy. You’d be surprised how many so-called pros forget that."

Lorna glanced at Wanda and Pietro, half-expecting them to chime in with some sarcastic remark, but they were both watching her. Pietro had that smirk like he was already planning to tease her about this later. Wanda’s look was softer, more approving.

Lorna exhaled slowly, letting the compliment sink in despite herself. She didn’t know if she believed she’d done anything special, but the idea that she might have actually mattered in the fight… that was something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

"Thanks," she said quietly, and for once, she meant it.

Tony’s expression shifted again, the easy warmth giving way to a more measured seriousness. He leaned against the back of a chair, folding his arms.

"Alright, fun part’s over," he said. "Now for the serious question. What does Shaw want with you?"

Lorna hesitated, eyes flicking toward the floor. Then she told him everything. How Shaw had approached her with promises and pressure, dangling the chance to save her father’s life. How she had believed it, even if it meant working for someone she barely understood. But later decided to beat him up and question him. Her voice trembled slightly when she reached the part about discovering the truth.

"Now I know who my real father is," she said, her lip curling slightly. "A terrorist and manipulator. I feel sick even thinking about him. And after what I remembered… after what happened on that plane... I am the reason they died. If not for my existence, they would still be living a happy life."

She stopped, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

Tony stepped forward, his tone calm but firm. "You can’t change the past. None of us can. But the future… that’s in your hands. You’re Lorna Dane. The people who raised you, they’re your parents. They’re the ones who mattered."

Lorna swallowed, forcing herself to meet his gaze. There was no judgment there, only conviction.

He tilted his head slightly. "That said… do you want to meet him?"

The answer came without hesitation. "No. I don’t want any ties with him. Not now, not ever."

Tony walked over and pulled one of the chairs from the small dining table and turned it around, resting his arms on the back as he sat down. His gaze locked on hers. He studied her for a long moment, reading her like an engineer inspecting a new prototype. Then he asked, "So, Lorna Dane, now that you’ve survived your first run-in with Shaw and company, and you got powers, what’s the plan?"

She didn’t hesitate. "I want to master my power and use it to help people. Like you do."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Like me?"

"Yeah," she said, leaning forward. "You’ve got the brains, the suit, the resources, and you use them to save lives. You take on impossible odds. That’s the kind of person I want to be."

For a moment, Tony looked almost flattered. Then his grin turned knowing. "That’s a flattering pitch, but I should warn you — the path from rookie to Iron Man isn’t exactly a stroll through Central Park. It’s a long road. A lot of it is ugly. And it costs you more than you think."

"I’m not scared of that."

He leaned back slightly, folding his arms. "Good answer. But if you want to walk the same path as me, or as the Ultimates, you have to start at the beginning. And for you, that means finishing your studies."

Her face dropped. "You’re kidding."

"I’m serious," Tony replied. "I didn’t come this far by skipping class and blowing stuff up… Well, not entirely. You need to learn discipline, problem solving, the boring stuff that becomes the foundation for the fun stuff. Engineering, physics, leadership... that doesn’t just happen because you’ve got powers."

Lorna crossed her arms. "I’m not exactly the ‘sit quietly and take notes’ type."

"Neither was I," Tony said, smirking. "But you’ve got a mind that works differently. I can tell. Which means you’d be wasting your potential if you didn’t sharpen it. You want to help people? Great. Step one is knowing enough not to accidentally kill them with friendly fire."

Pietro popped another handful of popcorn into his mouth and said around the kernels, "Translation: Tony’s gonna make you do homework before you’re allowed to blow up bad guys."

Wanda shot him a look. "And you could have benefited from the same."

Tony ignored them both and focused on Lorna. "Here’s the deal. I’ll help you train your powers. We’ll run you through simulations, tech integration, and maybe even get you into the field once you're ready. But in return, you put in the work academically. Think of it as an investment in your future. You’re young. You’ve got time to do this right."

Lorna thought about it. The idea of spending years in classrooms didn’t exactly thrill her, but she understood what he was saying. Power without control was a disaster waiting to happen — she’d lived through that already.

"Alright," she said finally. "I’ll do it. But when I’m ready, I want to be in the field. I don’t want to be kept on the sidelines."

Tony’s grin returned. "Good. Because I don’t do sidelines. Welcome to the long game, Lorna Dane."

He turned toward Wanda. "She’s your responsibility when it comes to the training schedule. Keep her from breaking anything we can’t afford to replace. And I'll try to make time for some special guidance."

Wanda inclined her head. "Understood."

Pietro raised his hand. "And what about me?"

"Oh, I almost forgot," Tony said as he looked at overexcited Pietro. He thought for a moment.

"Well," Pietro grinned, pointing a finger at his face.

"I heard you've never completed your studies... So, you are going back to high school. Good luck, and if you run..." Tony glanced toward Wanda. 

"I'll break his legs," Wanda finished it for Tony.

"..." Tony grinned as he pointed his finger at Wanda. "What she said. Now, time to interrogate our new guests."

...

[Basement level]

The containment wing was colder than the rest of the facility. Stark’s design: The usual energy turrets, reinforced adamantium walls, and enough redundancies to make escape a fantasy. The lights were dimmer here, focused beams cutting across polished steel. Each cell was sealed by transparent energy fields.

Shaw sat on the lone bench in his cell, relaxed as if he were a guest in a luxury suite rather than a high-security holding block. His posture was straight, shoulders loose, a small smile curling at the corner of his mouth. His tailored jacket had been taken, but even in a plain black shirt, he carried himself like a man still in control.

Tony stopped just short of the energy barrier, hands in his pockets. Wanda stood at the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, her eyes locked on Shaw. 

"Comfortable?" Tony asked casually.

Shaw glanced up slowly, that same faint smile never leaving. "As comfortable as one can be when held by people who think they’ve won."

Tony tilted his head. "Funny, you don’t look like a man concerned about the charges stacking up against him."

He shrugged. "Charges are for men without reach. You’d be surprised how quickly the law bends when the right hands push it."

"Yeah, I’ve met your type before," Tony said. "You think you’ve got a backdoor out of every situation. But here’s the thing… my doors don’t open for you."

Shaw’s smile deepened. "And yet you’re here. Talking to me. That means you want something. You wouldn’t waste your time otherwise."

Tony stepped closer to the barrier, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Maybe I’m just here to see if you’re dumb enough to tell me what your plan was with Lorna Dane."

"Lorna…" Shaw said her name slowly, as if tasting it. "She has potential. And potential should never be wasted. Your problem is that you see a weapon and think it needs a leash. I see a weapon and think it should be unleashed."

Tony’s jaw tightened, but his voice stayed level. "You see people as tools. That’s your flaw. And that’s why you’re in here instead of out there."

Shaw leaned forward just enough for the light to catch in his eyes. "You think you have me contained. But I was always a step ahead, Stark. Even now."

That was the moment Tony knew something was off. Shaw’s confidence wasn’t just arrogance. It was calculated. "Well, let's see what you got in that head of yours." Without changing his expression, he triggered a silent mental command. The energy of the Mind Stone infiltrated Shaw's mind. 

In an instant, the map unfolded in his head: the Hellfire Club’s underground dens, hidden ports, encrypted routes, the entire chain of command from smugglers to financiers. Not just names, but patterns. How shipments were disguised. Which officials were paid. The secret safehouses in cities that didn’t even exist on official records.

It was a treasure trove of intel. Enough to tear apart their network root and branch. 

'It's been a while since I looked at the small timers. I'll have Janet and Ghost clean them up tomorrow,' Tony thought.

And then something else flickered in the data stream.

The Mind Stone's energy flared as it warned: Invasive ancient bacterial lifeform detected.

---

AN: I'm pretty sure most of you know who this freak is.

[Ironman] Ch: 147 [Trio siblings]

Lorna had a dream. It was hazy, like she was watching it through frosted glass. She was on a plane with her parents. She knew they were her parents in the way dreams simply give you knowledge, but their faces were blurred as if they were made of smoke.

The sound came in bursts at first, the deep rumble of engines and the murmur of voices, until an argument broke through the haze. Her father’s voice rose. He was angry. He accused her mother of having an affair with a wanted criminal named Eric. The words came with weight, each one striking harder than the last. He said Lorna was that terrorist’s child, not his, and that her mother had lied for years to make him raise a child that was never his.

Her mother’s denial came quick and fierce, layered with desperation. She tried to speak over him, her tone rising into something frantic. They talked about betrayal, about lies that spanned years, about danger coming for them all.

Lorna sat between them, feeling smaller and smaller, her pulse racing as the voices grew sharper. She begged them to stop. Her small hands gripped the armrests, her knuckles pale.

The air inside the cabin seemed to change. She felt something in her chest, deep and growing, like a storm gathering in her bones. The desperate wish for the shouting to end became a roar in her head. The roar turned into a pressure that built behind her eyes, in her fingertips, in every nerve in her body.

Her parents were still yelling.

The storm inside her broke.

A magnetic pulse burst out of her body, invisible yet devastating. The lights flickered and the metal around her screamed. The sound of tearing metal mixed with the panicked cries of her parents. The fuselage ripped apart. Cold air rushed in like a flood. Lorna reached for her parents, but the world twisted into chaos, a spiral of black and white. Then nothing.

The nothing shifted into the sound of her own gasp.

Lorna sat up, lungs burning as if she had been holding her breath for years. Her legs swung instinctively to the floor, her body already dropping into a fighting stance before her mind caught up. For a moment, everything was white. Her eyes watered as she squinted, trying to push back the blinding light. Slowly, shapes came into focus.

She was no longer on the road where she had been fighting. She was standing in what looked like a hospital room. A narrow bed sat behind her, sheets rumpled. Beside it stood a set of machines blinking with vital signs. She looked at her hands, turning them over as if checking for damage.

"What the...?!"

Her fingertips brushed against her ribs. The memory of pain was fresh, but the pain itself was gone. Her body felt healed despite those critical injuries. 

Lorna slumped back onto the bed and pressed her palms to her forehead. The dream was already pressing into the corners of her mind. Her parents, the plane, the fight, followed by the burst of magnetic power that had destroyed everything... Then terrible silence afterward.

It was her fault.

The thought settled into her chest like a stone. She had killed them. She had been a child, but the truth felt no lighter for it. The guilt, the sadness, and the truth that she was the daughter of a terrorist and that her mother cheated... It was like too much for her to process.  She pressed her lips together until they hurt, forcing herself to swallow it.

This was not the time. She could not afford to sink into grief. The past could be buried for now. Survival came first.

She took a slow breath and slid off the bed. She tiptoed toward the door and carefully opened it, trying not to make a sound, and peeked out.

The room outside was not the sterile white of the medical bay. It looked like a living area, warm and oddly domestic. A large couch faced a low table. Beyond it was a kitchenette with polished counters and a coffee machine that hissed softly.

On the couch sat a boy with silver hair. He leaned back casually, one leg crossed over the other, a jumbo box of popcorn balanced on his knee. His hand moved in quick bursts, shoving fistfuls into his mouth with a speed that seemed just a little unnatural.

Near the coffee machine stood a brunette girl in a deep red dress. She was waiting for the brew cycle to finish, her fingers resting lightly on the counter. 

Lorna stepped fully out of the doorway. She took a moment to glance around again, taking in every detail she could. No visible weapons. No immediate threat. That meant nothing, but it gave her a second to act.

She walked toward the center of the room, keeping her tone even.

"Hello," she said.

The silver-haired boy glanced at her, his eyes bright and a little too knowing. He grinned around a mouthful of popcorn. "Well, Sleeping Beauty is awake," he said before tossing another handful into his mouth.

The brunette turned from the counter. Her gaze landed on Lorna, and something unreadable flickered across her face. She walked forward slowly, her coffee forgotten. "You are safe here," she said, her voice calm but layered with something heavier.

Lorna crossed her arms. "Safe from what?"

"From Shaw," the brunette said simply. She stopped a few steps away and studied Lorna. "You were injured. I saved you and brought you here. Take a seat." She nodded toward the couch. 

Lorna walked over and sat on the empty spot.

The silver-haired boy extended his fist toward her. "Name's Pietro. You can call me big bro. Remember to add Big Bro Pietro. Got it? Ha! It got a nice ring to it."

The girl in red smacked his head.

"Oow!" Pietro rubbed his head and looked toward her. She gave him that look. "Seesh! Fine, you can call me Pietro."

"Stop embarrassing yourself. Grow up," She said before smacking his head again.

"Stop hitting me. I always wanted a little sister. So back off," Pietro fought back with words obviously. 

Wanda cracked her knuckles. "Care to repeat that last part?"

"Please continue," Pietro quickly backed off.

Wanda sat beside him. She looked toward Lorna, who was slightly smiling, seeing the situation. But she still got her guards up. "I am Wanda. Your elder sister. I guess you have lots of questions. So ask away."

[A few minutes later]

Lorna sat in silence for a long moment after Wanda finished answering her questions and told her the truth.

The truth about Magneto was far from the twisted story her dream had given her. He had not been a father to any of them in the way most people meant the word. He had taken Wanda and Pietro when they were children, not out of love, but because their powers made them valuable to him. He had raised them like weapons, training them to serve his cause. He had lied to them and tried to manipulate them since childhood.

When she finished, she reached forward and took Lorna’s hands in hers.

“I know what you are feeling,” Wanda said. “The confusion... betrayal. That aching question in your chest about whether anything in your life has ever been real. I know what it is like to have the people you thought were your parents turn out to be something else entirely. It is a wound that does not heal clean.”

Her grip tightened slightly, not to hold Lorna in place but to make sure she knew the connection was real. “The whole parental thing is messed up. I will not lie and say it gets easier overnight. But I can tell you that you are not alone in this. We are here with you.”

Lorna’s throat felt tight. The words she wanted to say were tangled up with the bitterness that had taken root in her. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then let out a slow breath. “I don’t know what to think right now,” she admitted.

“That is fine,” Wanda replied. “But here's some advice from your big sis. Don't dwell on the past and on what ifs. Walk forward and create new memories. If it were anyone else, I would've said that won't be easy, but seeing how you kicked some serious ass back there... You are strong. You got it."

The sound of a door opening broke the moment. All three of them turned toward it. Tony walked in. He glanced at each of them in turn, his gaze settling on Lorna for a beat longer than on the others.

“So,” he said, “our newest house guest is awake.”

Lorna leaned back slightly, studying him. “And you are… Tony Stark!” She stood up.

"In flesh," Tony walked to her and extended his hand.

Lorna quickly shook his hand. 

"Nice to meet you," He said with a smile.

"Yes. Wow! I mean, yes. Nice to meet you too," She said with a little stutter. All her strong alpha female behaviour disappeared for the moment and for the moment, she forgot about her parental crisis situation. Her only focus was on Tony. 'OH MY GOD! That's Iron Man. I want to see the suit. If I ask nicely, will he give me one? Maybe I can get him to sign one of his figurines from my collection or the poster.' 

Lorna Dane... Iron Man's biggest fan.

[Ironman] Ch: 146 [Crimson Reckoning]

[Back to Shaw]

Emma Frost stepped out from the shadows, her white coat catching the moonlight. Her expression was composed but her eyes lingered on Shaw’s torn sleeve and the faint dust clinging to his jacket. “Are you alright?” she asked.

Shaw rolled his shoulders with a sigh. He said, “I'm good. She was stronger than I expected. Far stronger. And she does not even know what she is yet.”

Two black SUVs rolled up behind them. The vehicles stopped in perfect unison. The rear doors swung open, and four men in dark tactical gear stepped out. They moved quickly to collect Shaw’s unconscious goons from where they had fallen earlier. They dragged the groaning bodies to the first SUV and tossed them inside. Then, two of them walked toward Lorna.

Emma’s gaze was on Lorna. The green-haired girl stood unsteady, her chest heaving. Her eyes fought to focus, lips moving with the start of another insult. Emma’s mind brushed against hers. “Sleep,” she whispered into Lorna’s thoughts.

Lorna’s pupils dilated, her stance softened, and she collapsed forward and one of the men caught her. Her aura sputtered out, and the floating debris clattered to the dirt.

“Careful with her,” Emma instructed. “She is valuable.”

The guy adjusted his grip and walked toward the second SUV. 

Then it happened...

A sudden pressure made everyone stop in their tracks. 

It was like an invisible hand had gripped the entire yard and squeezed. The men froze where they stood, eyes wide and veins bulging as the ground beneath them cracked in a spiderweb pattern.

A female voice cut through the night.

“Take your filthy hands off my sister.”

A pulse of crimson erupted from the far side of the yard, warping the air around it. Then a bolt of crimson energy slammed into the man holding Lorna, sending him sprawling backward in a bloody arc. The girl didn’t hit the ground. Instead, she drifted through the air, cradled by an unseen force, until she floated at the side of the figure who had appeared in the center of the carnage. 

Chaos energy coiled around Wanda like a storm. Her hair whipped across her face, her boots sinking slightly into the dirt as the pressure around her increased. She looked at Lorna and saw the wounds on her and something snapped within her. A faint barrier appeared around Lorna.

The rest of Shaw’s men tried to move but Wanda’s gaze flicked toward them.

"Die!" She extended her right hand toward Shaw's men. Their limbs bent unnaturally inward as an unseen force crushed their bodies into the gravel. The sickening sound of bones snapping was swallowed by the wet crunch as the pressure intensified. In the blink of an eye, they were nothing but bloody heaps of meat, twisted and unrecognizable.

Emma’s body shifted. Her skin crystallized into her flawless organic diamond form. The moonlight scattered across her new form, refracting into pale fragments. It was as if she were glowing. The crushing force of Wanda’s power washed over her but didn’t break her hardened body.

Shaw stood calmly as he absorbed the energy. Lorna's power had impressed him, but this was something else entirely. His boots sank into the dirt as he pushed against the invisible gravity. 'To think she could overload me.' He rolled his shoulders once, then stomped down his right foot.

The ground detonated under him. A shockwave of pure kinetic energy shot toward Wanda, ripping through the gravel and sending a spray of metal and rock into the air. 

"Cute," Wanda tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a grin. The blast froze midair. "But no thanks. You can have it back." The energy blast reversed course as if the space around that place was reversed for a moment. It slammed back toward Shaw with double the speed and power.

He didn’t flinch. His arms snapped up and the energy vanished into his body, absorbed like water into dry earth. His grin returned. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

The air erupted with movement. Shaw charged, his steps cratering the ground, closing the gap between them in seconds. Wanda raised one hand. Instantly, a wall of crimson energy appeared before her. His fist connected with it.

Boom! A massive explosion occurred from the impact, but it wasn't strong enough to break the barrier. She twisted her wrist and the barrier bent like molten glass, curling around him. Before it could close, Shaw’s other fist slammed forward, sensing the danger. He used 50% of his absorbed energy. The kinetic backlash shattered the construct into fragments of glowing light.

Emma attacked from the side. Wanda’s hand flicked upward, summoning chains of raw energy from the dirt. They whipped around Emma’s limbs, yanking her into the air before slamming her into the ground.

Shaw pounced on the opening and threw a barrage of punches. Every blow detonated on impact, driving Wanda backward as her shields buckled.

She clapped her hands and the world buckled. Sound and motion died for a breath, and Shaw found himself hurled into the side of a rusted boxcar. Metal screamed as it folded around him.

Emma recovered fast, striking at Wanda with psionic blasts and then quickly turned her body back to the diamond form as Wanda simply stood unaffected as her constructs trapped her, morphing into spiked cages and snapping whips. She tore them apart just as quickly.

Shaw ripped free of the wreckage. He recovered his lost energy thanks to the attack.

"What the hell is she?" He rushed in at a blinding speed and attacked Wanda again.

This time the hit connected. The force pushed Wanda a few steps back. But she held her ground, her aura flaring until the wind howled through the yard. Her eyes went toward Lorna. The barrier she raised when the battle started has cracked. Wanda raised another barrier around her in that situation.

Wanda’s expression hardened. The crimson glow around her deepened until it painted the yard in a living storm of light. She just had enough. Shaw and Emma were still standing, still moving toward her as if they had any right to do so. 

"Allow me to show you what it feels like to drift between life and death," Wanda said as she opened her palm, and multiple wisps of crimson energy spread around the area.

Shaw slowed first. His steps faltered, his head tilting as if trying to shake away sudden dizziness. He opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. A deep ache spread through his chest and shoulders. His breath hitched. It felt as if the very marrow in his bones was turning against him. The kinetic energy he stored slipped from his control, leaking away like water through broken glass.

Emma’s diamond form began to crack, fine fissures splintering across her flawless surface. The transformation collapsed entirely, leaving her in her human state. Her breath quickened, and she reached for her head as if a sudden migraine had torn through her skull. Her knees buckled. The sharp efficiency in her eyes dulled under a fevered haze.

"What the hell is this?!" Emma thought it was some kind of mental attack that penetrated her diamond form, which was supposed to be impossible. So, she tried to use her psychic abilities, but nothing happened. She couldn't feel her powers anymore. "You!" She looked toward Wanda. "What have you done?"

Wanda stepped forward. Her power threaded deeper, past muscle and bone, to the very blueprint of their bodies. This is her Biological Manipulation power. She's still in the learning phase, but it was enough for those two. She severed the signals that gave their mutations life, shutting down the genes like flipping a switch. The spark of their abilities died instantly, leaving them stripped and vulnerable.

"I just shut down your mutation and now..." 

At the same time, she accelerated the smallest of enemies within them. The harmless bacteria and dormant viruses that all bodies carried surged into overdrive. Fever ignited in their blood. Their immune systems screamed in confusion as every germ they had ever harbored turned into an army.

Shaw fell to one knee, sweat beading on his forehead. His breath came shallow and ragged, his strength draining faster than he could comprehend.

Emma tried to rise, but her body betrayed her. Her skin flushed red, her limbs shook, and she felt as if her entire body was burning.

“You thought power made you untouchable,” Wanda said, her voice calm. “All it takes is one small shift in the balance of what you are, and you are nothing. If it were up to me, I'd have buried you two right here, alive. But sadly, I got orders from the big boss to capture you two alive and since this is my first big mission, I can't screw this up. So, night night. Oh, and do enjoy the pain."

Wanda flicked her fingers and opened a direct portal to Shield base and kicked them inside. Then she walked in with Lorna floating behind her.

---

AN: I decided to keep Wanda at her 60% potential at the moment. Still, she's freaking OP. And no worries, I won't be nerfing her.

[Ironman] Ch: 145 [Shaw vs Lorna]

Lorna stared at Sebastian Shaw for a long moment. Her heart was beating so fast that she could hear the beats. Every cell in her body screamed to either run or fight, but to her at that moment, finding out about her father was more important than running away. She wanted the truth more than she feared what might happen if she let go.

She closed her eyes. That strange hum she had always felt in the background roared forward. It was like opening a door that had been locked her whole life. The air around her shimmered. The damp smell of the field was overtaken by the scent of ozone, sharp and electric.

Green light began to spark along her fingers. Her black-dyed hair shifted, the color bleeding away strand by strand until it was the vibrant green she had hidden for years. Her boots lifted off the gravel as if the earth itself had released her.

The world sharpened. She could feel every piece of metal in the field. The rusted bolts in the old fence. The nails in the telephone pole. The steel skeleton of the boxcars in the train yard. Every coin in the pockets of the men in front of her.

She opened her eyes. Shaw’s three goons stood ready, their confidence faltering for the first time.

Lorna smiled coldly. “You wanted me to stop holding back. Fine.”

The energy around her intensified, a green aura crackling and snapping like lightning. With a flick of her wrist, the knuckle dusters she had been holding shot off her hands and flew into the nearest goon’s chest with enough force to knock him into the dirt. A second movement and the metal pipe in another man’s grip wrenched free, spinning in the air before slamming across his jaw.

The tattooed one charged anyway, snarling. Lorna’s eyes narrowed and the chain-link fence rattled violently. A moment later it tore free from its posts and wrapped around him like a net, dragging him backward.

Shaw clapped again, but this time it was slower, heavier. “Better. Much better.”

“You’re next,” Lorna said. “I’ll beat the shit out of you, then you can tell me about my dad while you’re spitting teeth.”

She shot forward, the ground beneath her boots sparking as stray nails and bolts ripped free. Shaw moved to meet her, his stance calm but prepared. Her first strike sent a wave of green energy that tore through the grass and dirt between them, carrying shards of rusted steel. Shaw took the hit full-on. The impact rang out like a gunshot, but he stood there, grinning.

“I absorb energy, my dear,” he said, his voice low. “You’re feeding me with every attack.”

“Then I’ll just have to give you more than you can handle.”

"This is me at 5%," Shaw said calmly. "If you think you can overload me, go ahead. Show me everything you have. That rage and raw emotions... Use it all and come at me, kid."

She raised both hands. The scattered debris in the field shot toward Shaw in a deadly storm. He waded into it without hesitation, the metal striking him with explosive force. Each hit only seemed to make him stronger, his grin widening. When he lunged forward, he was faster, heavier, and his fist came down like a hammer.

Lorna crossed her arms and a wall of twisted metal rose between them, his blow denting it inward but not breaking through. She pushed back, the wall flattening and then exploding outward, sending him skidding across the gravel.

Shaw laughed as he stood. “Yes. That’s it. You are getting there.”

“You asked for it,” she muttered.

The boxcars in the train yard groaned. Metal screamed as she pulled their frames toward her. Panels tore free, wheels ripped from axles, and a moment later, a dozen massive pieces of railcar were circling in the air around her like a storm of blades.

Shaw’s eyes narrowed now, his earlier amusement replaced with focus. Right now, he was barely using his full power. He charged as she sent the first wave of metal hurtling toward him. He smashed through the first few chunks with his fists, absorbing their kinetic energy, but the next barrage was faster, heavier, and relentless.

One jagged panel slammed into his side and spun him around. Another caught him in the back, driving him toward the dirt. Before he could recover, Lorna ripped a rail from the gravel and snapped it like a whip. The steel lashed across his chest and hurled him into a heap of old scrap.

She advanced, eyes burning with green light. “You’re going to tell me everything,” she said, “or I’m going to bury you under this yard.”

Shaw rose slowly, brushing dirt from his jacket. The grin was gone. “Impressive. You pushed me to 10%. That's more than I expected,” he admitted. “But you still don’t understand the scale of your power.”

“I’m figuring it out just fine,” she said.

He moved faster than before. One second he was standing among the wreckage, the next, he was right in front of her, fist cocked back. The blow landed against a faint green barrier she formed instinctively just in time, but the force still knocked her back several feet. She gritted her teeth and pushed forward, shoving him away with a blast of magnetic force.

He twisted in the air and landed on his feet, absorbing the energy from her attack like a sponge. His next move was a feint followed by a low strike that caught her in the ribs. Pain lanced through her side, stealing her breath.

Lorna’s vision swam, but she forced the pain down. She yanked the steel fence from the far side of the yard and hurled it toward him. He caught it in one hand, but she twisted her fingers and the entire structure bent around him, wrapping him in a cocoon of metal.

For a moment he was still. Then the metal began to bulge outward as he absorbed the force. She clenched her fists, tightening the grip until the steel groaned like it was about to snap in on itself.

Shaw simply took a step forward as the metal busted, shards flying in every direction. He caught one in midair and threw it like a spear. She deflected it, the projectile spinning harmlessly into the dirt, but the distraction gave him time to close the gap again.

Their next exchange was brutal. Her attacks came in waves, metal slamming into him from every direction, each piece bent and reshaped mid-flight to strike again. He absorbed the punishment, returning each blow with crushing punches and kicks that forced her to shield constantly. The ground around them was a cratered mess, littered with twisted steel and smoking debris.

His punches carried the weight of every attack she had thrown at him, each one a shockwave through her battered body. Every impact rattled her bones and drove the air from her lungs. She staggered back, boots skidding over the gravel.

Lorna's vision was clouded with the green flicker of her own energy. Blood streaked down from her nose and she tasted blood every time she swallowed. Her ribs screamed with every breath. She was sure something inside her had cracked.

Shaw yelled in excitement. "You are stronger than when your father first awakened his power. It's impressive. Your control is much stronger than his. Back then he could barely bend a fence."

She spat blood into the dirt and watched him, her hands loose at her sides. He thought she was breaking. He thought he had her figured out.

But something had shifted.

The hum in her head was no longer just the pull of the boxcars or the fence posts. It was as if her perception got much clearer. She could feel it in him. The metallic tang that lived in every human being. The trace of iron in his blood was like a thread she could see with her mind, coiled and ready to be yanked.

Her heart slammed in her chest. She had never felt this before.

Shaw took a step forward. She let him. Another step and his shadow fell over her.

"You don't have anything left," he said.

Her eyes locked on his. "You sure about that?"

The air between them tightened. Invisible weight coiled around him, not from the metal in the yard, but from inside him. Shaw froze mid-step. His smirk twitched.

Lorna clenched her fists and pulled. The iron in his blood responded. His muscles jerked in protest, his veins burning under her control.

Shaw's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he masked it. "Clever," he said, his voice strained. "But... Sadly, we have to end this."

Suddenly, Lorna's vision blurred as she let Shaw go. Her body wasn't under her control and someone was controlling her mind. She could tell it, but too weak and exhausted to resist. 

"Fuck!" She cursed.

...

[Horizon Island]

A few minutes earlier on Horizon Island, Tony was running a routine systems sweep when the alarms lit up.

A sharp spike in the electromagnetic spectrum tore across his monitors. His AI flagged it instantly. The energy signature was off the charts, almost identical to the readings he had on file for Magneto. But this one was stronger, wilder, and unrefined.

Tony’s fingers flew over the controls. Satellite feeds pivoted to the location. Grainy visuals sharpened into high-resolution images of an abandoned rail yard. There was a girl in black boots floating above the gravel, a green aura blazing around her. Metal swirled in a storm around her body. Opposite her, Sebastian Shaw was laughing like a lunatic, shrugging off attacks that could level a tank.

“Of course it’s Shaw,” Tony muttered. “Guy never learned the meaning of a peaceful night.”

He tapped into the comms. “Wanda. Priority one.”

Her voice came in, calm but clipped. “Really now? It's midnight. What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got a fight on my screen that’s about to level a small town. Your sister’s in the middle of it. She’s going toe-to-toe with Shaw and somehow holding her own.” He rewound a second of footage. “Scratch that, she’s doing more than holding her own. She’s turning the guy into a piñata.”

"Sister?!" Wanda asked, confused. She never knew about Lorna since Magneto kept her hidden and used Mastermind's power to erase her existence.

"Stepsister, to be precise. And right now she needs help. Shaw is never alone. Emma Frost is always with him. So, expect a strong Omega-level telepath," Tony replied.

There was no hesitation in Wanda’s tone. “Location.”

Tony sent it with a flick. “Get there now. Shaw’s soaking up her hits and getting stronger. If she keeps throwing at this pace, she’ll burn herself out and he’ll take her alive or probably use Emma to manipulate her mind. So, saving her is the top priority. As for the rest, capture them alive if possible. And bring everyone to Shield Base 1. I'll meet you there and be careful.”  

He walked out to the balcony and flew away with a streak of golden light.

This time, Tony didn't use his suit; instead decided to fly using his cosmic power. 

“Understood,” she said. The channel cut off.

[Ironman] Ch: 144 [Lorna Dane]

[Meanwhile] [Pennsylvania]

Lorna Dane was twenty-one years old, living a life that, on the surface, looked completely ordinary. She shared a modest apartment with her aunt and uncle, the Dane family, who had raised her since she was a child. They told her her real parents had died in a plane crash when she was very young. She had no memory of them, just vague dreams and the occasional flash of unfamiliar voices that made her question the story she had been told.

She went to a local university, majoring in environmental science. Most days she rode her beat-up electric bike to class, her headphones blasting old punk rock tracks from a playlist she made in high school. She had friends, a solid GPA, and a habit of ditching responsibility whenever it suited her. That part usually came with a smirk, a defiant flick of her jacket collar, and a whispered curse about how boring everything was.

Lorna wasn’t a quiet girl, but she was careful about certain things. People gave her enough weird looks for her natural green hair, so she dyed it black every few weeks to keep the attention away. She had done it for so long it barely even felt like a choice anymore. It was just part of her routine, like checking the lock twice before sneaking out her bedroom window or making excuses when her aunt asked too many questions about the bruises on her knuckles.

She didn’t like rules and hated curfews. 

Her nights were filled with underground music gigs, abandoned buildings turned into party zones, and late-night outings with her friends. 

Still, there were nights when she would lie on the roof above her bedroom, staring up at the stars, and wonder if this was it. If her entire life would be defined by small-town routines and fake smiles. Something about that thought made her feel trapped, like her skin didn’t quite fit.

There was one thing she never talked about. Sometimes when she got angry, weird things happened, like light bulbs flickering and metal objects rattling. Once, in a fight with a guy who grabbed her wrist too hard at a party, the chain-link fence behind her bent inward like someone had crushed it with invisible hands. No one saw it happen, but she felt it. The way her blood surged, the way the world seemed to pull itself toward her.

She blamed it on adrenaline and stress and said to herself that she must be hallucinating. She wanted to think it was all just a big coincidence and had nothing to do with her.

But deep down in her heart, Lorna knew she wasn’t like the other girls in her class or even the rebellious ones she partied with. Something in her blood felt different. It always had. And no amount of hair dye, sarcasm, or running away could keep it buried forever.

That night, she was sitting on the windowsill of her room, dressed in ripped jeans and a faded leather jacket. Her black-dyed hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. Her boots were already muddy from an earlier detour through the woods with her friend Kayla. The music from her phone pulsed through one headphone as she glanced at the street below. Her aunt and uncle were asleep. The lights were off. 

She grinned to herself, then slipped out the window and landed quietly on the grass.

There was another party at an old train yard across town. A bonfire, a few local bands, and enough cheap beer to make people forget they had classes tomorrow. For Lorna, it was the perfect kind of escape. Noise, chaos, and just enough danger to feel alive.

...

[Old Train Yard]

The party had burned hot for hours. The old train yard pulsed with the heavy thump of bass from a portable speaker system stacked against a rusted-out boxcar. Red plastic cups littered the gravel. Flames from a makeshift bonfire cracked and spat into the night sky. Lorna moved with the rhythm, half-drunk, half-hypnotized by the noise and heat. Her jacket hung from one shoulder, the collar popped, and her boots crushed empty cans with every careless step.

People shouted over each other, dancing, laughing, spilling beer. Some climbed the old rail cars and jumped down just to show off. The smell of smoke, gasoline, and sweat filled the air. Lorna had already pushed down three drinks earlier, but now she just clutched a fresh one and let it dangle from her fingers. She had no interest in getting too drunk tonight. 

Why?

She noticed them about an hour ago.

Three people. All standing too far apart to be a group, yet they watched her with the same hungry attention. They didn't drink or talk to anyone. Their eyes just tracked her across the chaos.

They looked out of place.

One of them wore mirrored glasses even though it was long past sunset. Another had a sleeve of tattoos that looked far too fresh, as if they were part of a disguise.

Lorna didn’t react. She danced harder. She laughed louder. She spun around in the crowd and let the music hide the tension in her spine. Every instinct in her body screamed not to run. Not to tip them off. So she played it cool, sipping just enough beer to keep up the act, dumping the rest when no one was looking.

Around 3 AM, when most of the crowd had thinned and the speaker batteries were nearly dead, she left. She grabbed her bike, dragging it more than riding it. Someone popped the front wheel.

The night air was damp, heavy with early fog, and the only sounds were distant crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl. She didn’t glance behind her. Didn’t pick up her pace. But she felt it—the steady presence of someone following her. One set of footsteps, maybe two. Not close enough to be obvious, but just near enough to make her nerves spark.

Lorna veered off the main road, turning onto a side path that cut through an overgrown field. She pretended to check her phone. Her fingers curled into fists inside her jacket pockets. Her knuckles itched. Her breath was slow and steady, but her pulse climbed.

After another twenty yards, she stopped.

She propped the bike against a leaning telephone pole. Her hand slid into her inside pocket and came out with a pair of silver knuckle dusters, scarred and worn from use. She slipped them on with care. The cool metal felt good.

Then she turned.

Her boots crunched the gravel as she faced the darkness behind her.

"C'mon out, you motherfuckers," she said, her voice cold and sharp. "I know you’re following me."

The silence that followed was brief but electric. The kind of pause that comes right before something bad.

From the shadows between the trees, one figure emerged. Then another. Then a third.

Lorna’s fingers flexed inside the metal grips. 'Fuck! There could be more hiding somewhere around here. Tsk. Well, whatever. I'm gonna beat them to a pulp.'

"You’ve got five seconds to explain why you're stalking me before I start breaking teeth," she said, her eyes locked on the lead figure.

The one in the center stepped forward, lifting both hands slightly.

"No need for violence, Lorna. We’re not here to hurt you."

Lorna chuckled and said, "Yeah? That's what they always say. Classic line: We're not here to hurt you."

A clapping sound came from deeper in the shadows. The sound was unhurried, like someone enjoying the build-up to a show. A man’s voice followed...

"Enough introductions. Push her to the limits. Let’s see if she lives up to her daddy's name."

'Daddy's name? He knows my dad?!' Lorna thought. 'Arg! Fine. I'm gonna beat the answer out of you lots.'

The three shifted instantly. Their postures changed from passive to predatory. The one with the mirrored glasses moved first, sprinting toward her with surprising speed. Lorna stepped sideways and swung hard, the metal knuckles catching him across the jaw. He staggered but didn’t drop, shaking it off like he had been hit before and knew how to take it.

The tattooed one came in next, low and fast, aiming to sweep her legs. Lorna jumped back and drove her boot into his ribs. The impact jarred her leg but sent him sideways into the dirt. She barely had time to breathe before the third lunged from behind, arms reaching for her shoulders.

She twisted out of his grip and slammed her elbow into his stomach. He grunted and doubled over, but she could already hear the crunch of gravel from the first two closing back in.

Lorna’s heartbeat increased. The air around her seemed to hum. The old telephone pole beside her gave a faint metallic groan, as if straining against some unseen pull. She ignored it and kept moving, fists snapping out in quick, brutal arcs. Her strikes connected, but they kept coming, each hit they took only slowing them for seconds.

'Darn it! What the fuck are they? They just won't fall. Wait a minute! Drugs! They are definitely on drugs or mutants,' She thought.

The man in the shadows clapped again, faster this time, almost mocking.

"Good. Don’t hold back."

Her grip on the knuckle dusters tightened. The ground felt strange beneath her boots, as though a hidden current was running through the metal debris scattered across the field. The chain-link fence in the distance shivered, rattling faintly in the fog.

One of them took out a metal pipe out of nowhere and swung it at her head. She ducked, caught his wrist, and drove her other fist straight into his cheek. "What the...?" She mumbled. She felt as if she had just punched a solid steel. 

That guy punched her hard enough to send her rolling on the ground. She stood up and raised her hands, ready to fight again. Her chest rose and fell fast. She could taste the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. That punch just now was strong enough to make her blackout for a moment there.

"Is this the best you’ve got?" she spat.

The man in the shadows didn’t answer. He just stepped forward and raised his left hand. The three men stopped.

"That's the question I should ask," He said. "Is this the best you've got?"

"Who the hell are you people?" She asked.

"I am Sebastian Shaw. Some call me the Black King. And I know your real father. We had a long history. But that's the story for another time. Right now, he's alive. But..." Shaw opened his arms with a large grin. "You've got to stop holding back. Use that power inside you and show me what you can really do. Only then I'll tell you how to save him."

[Ironman] Ch: 143 [Sue: Submissive? or Masochist?]

AN: Ok. I might have gone a bit too far with the sensual scene. 😬😬

---

[Horizon Island] [Day: 4 since the massage] [Nighttime]

Tony leaned back in his chair and glanced at the clock. It was 2:37 a.m. He has finally synthesized a beta serum for Rogue, but he needs to test it further with Rogue's DNA. He needs her to touch someone without the suppressor to see the changes in her genes when she absorbs others' lifeforce and powers. He tried it with her DNA using his blood, but the results weren't that good.

'Haaa. Well, I'll talk to her tomorrow.' 

He turned toward the adjacent workstation where Sue sat, focused as ever, tapping away at a holographic interface. Her jacket was draped over the back of the chair, and her hair was tied up in a messy bun. The glow from the screen lit her face, but her eyes were tired.

"You do realize normal people sleep, right?" Tony said as he stretched his arms.

Sue didn't even look at him. "You gave me your word, remember? Carry me to bed every night for the rest of my life. So technically, I'm just keeping you on your toes."

Tony smirked. "That's one hell of a commitment. You planning to push that line every night?"

She finally looked at him, a teasing smile curling at the edge of her lips. "Unless you're planning to break your promise?"

Tony stood up and walked over to her. "You just want the massage, don't you?"

Sue stretched her arms over her head with an exaggerated sigh. "I mean, a girl could get used to them. Not to mention being carried like royalty." She looked at him. "Has a nice ring to it."

He chuckled, leaning on the desk beside her. "You're trouble, you know that?"

Her expression softened. "Only for you."

Tony's eyes lingered on her a second longer than usual. He didn't say anything right away, but Sue noticed the shift. The playfulness in his posture eased. Something had been on his mind. He had noticed the changes in Sue's behavior over the past couple of days... Okay. Weeks.

Well, the way she flirted with him every chance she got, and not to mention the way she steals glances at him from time to time, then yesterday she asked her to massage her glutes... Tony knew that beating around the bush would be a waste of time. Sue knows that he's already with Natasha and Yelena, still she was making advances. So, better have a quick conversation.

After a long pause, he finally spoke. "Listen... I've been meaning to talk to you."

Sue blinked. "What's up?"

Tony rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly unsure how to phrase something he'd been rehearsing in his head for days. He wasn't nervous often, but this? This was different. 

"I've noticed how things have been between us lately," he said. "And I've seen how much you care. You've always had my back, and I've always admired that about you. But lately, I've been thinking about you differently."

Sue sat still, her heart beating a little faster. 'Is he going to ask me out, or reject? Better prepare your heart, Susan.'

Tony continued. "I like you, Sue. I mean, like not just as a friend or teammate. I like you as someone I'd want to spend more time with... outside of labs and missions. Someone I'd like to take out, sit across from at a dinner table and share silly stories and secrets."

Sue's breath caught. She hadn't expected him to say it, not like this, not so directly. She stared at him for a beat, searching for anything in his face that hinted at a joke, but all she saw was sincerity.

"You want to take me out?" she asked quietly.

Tony nodded. "Yeah. On a real date. Just you and me."

For a moment, she said nothing. Then, a smile bloomed slowly across her face. The kind of smile that was warm and a little shy, the kind she rarely let herself wear.

"I'd like that," she said.

'Ok. That was... quick.' Tony's grin widened. "Cool. I'll even promise to carry you home after. But only if you pretend your feet hurt."

Sue laughed, then stood and walked up to him. "Oh, I won't need to pretend. I'm definitely making you carry me," She said in a playful tone.

Tony tilted his head. "Noted. Now get your things. I'm taking you to bed."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Literally. Don't get excited. I meant the carrying part."

Sue shook her head, still smiling as she let herself relax into his arms.

And just like that, a new relationship began...

...

[Sue’s Quarters] [Later That Night]

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the ambient ceiling lights and a faint breeze drifting in from the balcony. The scent of fresh ocean air mingled with something warm and faintly floral—massage oil already uncapped and waiting on the bedside table.

Tony stood near the door, arms crossed, watching as Sue moved across the room toward the clothing closet. His eyes fell on the lavender massage oil. 'Wait a minute! I bought it for Natasha last week for some sexy bath time fun.' He did a quick scan on the bottle, and it got the same serial number. 'Don't tell me! They are all into it?!'

Sue took off her shirt and slipped out of her pants, right before his eyes, and was now wearing only a matching black bra and panty set.

'Eehh!' Tony froze for a moment. 

She put the clothes in the laundry basket and then climbed onto the bed, stretching out on her stomach, her arms folding beneath the pillow. 

Tony blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, he let his thoughts run wild. 'Big boobies... Spankable butt cheeks. Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! Don't get hard. Think about something else. Armor, Genome 32 X formula, oiling the machines, oiling her butt cheeks... God help me.'

"Comfortable much?" he said with a half-smile, trying to play it cool. He was hard.

Sue glanced back over her shoulder, calm and completely unbothered. "You said you were giving me the full treatment, right? Thought we’d skip the whole fabric-in-the-way nonsense."

Tony stepped toward the bed, the bottle of oil already in hand. "You could’ve warned me first. I'm still just a man, Sue."

She chuckled into the pillow. "Then consider this part of your training. Focus, Mr. Stark."

Tony kneeled beside her on the bed. He took the massage oil bottle and poured a few drops of oil into his hands, warming it between his palms. His eyes scanned her back, both with care and lust. Every inch of her was tense, and he could feel her trust in the way she laid still for him, unguarded.

"You sure you're good with this?" he asked quietly.

Sue’s voice was soft. "I wouldn't have asked if I wasn’t. I trust you. Besides, I liked that confident Tony Stark. You'd better bring him out and just go for it. I promise I won't complain."

Tony smiled as he said, "Be careful what you wish for, Miss Storm."

He placed his hands on her shoulders, the slick warmth of the oil allowing him to glide smoothly across her skin. He worked slowly, thumbs pressing into tight muscles, knuckles rolling down each side of her spine. 

'So soft,' He thought.

Sue exhaled deeply, her body beginning to unwind with every slow, deliberate motion.

"Mumm~ Feels so good," she mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow.

Tony moved down to her lower back, his hands trailing a path along her spine. He could feel the tension there, too, but it was different - less from stress and more from... anticipation, perhaps? He pressed his thumbs into the small of her back, working the oil into her skin, feeling her muscles relax beneath his touch.

Sue let out a low moan, her body arching slightly at the contact. "Oh, that's... that's the spot."

Tony smiled, his hands never pausing. "Your muscles are so tense," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

He continued down, his hands spreading out wider to cover more of her back, his fingers digging in just the right way to make her sigh and squirm. He could feel her breath hitching, her body tensing and relaxing in rhythm with his touch.

"Well, time for a foot massage," Tony said as he moved down to her feet and dripped more oil. He began to massage her soles, his fingers working in gentle circles, pressing into the tender spots that made her wiggle her toes. He could feel the tension melting away, her body growing more pliant with each passing moment.

Sue let out a contented hum.

His hands moved to her calves, his thumbs tracing the muscles there.

He worked his way up her legs, his touch firm yet tender, his fingers leaving no inch of her skin untouched. He could feel her body responding to him, her breath coming in short gasps, her skin flushing a soft pink.

As he reached her thighs, he paused, his hands resting just below the curve of her behind. He looked up at her with his usual confident smirk. "Still with me, Sue?"

She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Don't you dare stop."

Tony dripped a generous amount of oil onto Sue's butt cheeks. He watched as the lavender liquid slid down her skin, his heart pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. He then slowly made his way up Sue's thighs, his thumbs tracing the firm muscles. She made no move to stop him. He took a deep breath, his hands hovering for a moment before he began to massage her buttocks.

His fingers were kneading the soft flesh of her butt cheeks. He could feel her relax into his touch, her breath coming in soft, even rhythms. He moved his hands down, his thumbs tracing the curve of her cheeks, his fingers digging into the muscles.

Sue let out a low moan, her body arching slightly at the contact. "Oh, that feels... incredible," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tony smiled, his hands never pausing. He could feel her response to his touch, her body growing more aroused with each passing moment. He took his time, his hands exploring every inch of her, his fingers digging into the muscles, his thumbs tracing the curves.

He could feel the heat radiating from her, could see the flush spreading across her skin. He moved his hands down, his fingers traced the line where her buttocks met her thighs, and he could feel her body tense slightly, waiting for his next move.

"Turn around," He said firmly.

Sue followed and turned on her back.

Tony dripped some oil onto her tummy and began massaging the oil in with gentle, circular motions. He could see her breath hitching, her chest rising and falling rapidly as he moved up, his fingers tracing the underside of her breasts.

"Tony..." she whispered, her voice laced with desire.

He looked at her, his eyes reflecting the same hunger. "Yes, Sue?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. "Nothing. Just... keep going."

He chuckled softly, and his hands touched her underboobs a couple of times, but that was how far he went before moving up to her upper chest, around the neck area.

Tony's hands moved to Sue's shoulders, his fingers digging into the tight muscles there. He could feel her pulse quickening, her breath growing more ragged. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "Relax, Sue. Let go."

She let out a shaky breath, her body trembling slightly as he worked his way down her arms, his touch feather-light yet firm. She was so horny that she couldn't help but rub her thighs together. After weeks of work and zero self-release, she was horny as hell.

Tony massaged her upper chest and then moved down to her legs once again. He massaged her inner thighs, from left to right.

'Shit! I might just cum!' Sue thought.

Tony decided not to indulge any further, or he might not be able to hold himself back. And he was reading Sue's thoughts thanks to the Mind Stone. He knew how much she wanted to cum. But where's the fun in that? He was going to ruin her orgasm and deny her a release.

So, he leaned near her ear. "You do know I can read your thoughts, right?" He whispered. He told her about it during the Skrull mess.

"Yes," Sue replied without opening her eyes.

"You were thinking all those naughty things..." Tony smirked, his breath hot on her ear. "And you were hoping I'd help you with that, weren't you?" His voice was low, a husky whisper that sent shivers down her spine.

Sue's eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting his. She saw the mischief in his eyes, the curve of his lips that promised trouble. She knew he was teasing her, but she couldn't help but play along. "I don't know what you're talking about, Tony," she said, her voice innocent.

Tony chuckled, his hands moving back to her thighs, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin there. "Oh, come on, Sue. You can't fool me. I know exactly what you want." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her neck, his voice barely above a whisper. "You want me to touch you, don't you? You want me to make you cum."

Sue's breath hitched, her body responding to his words, to his touch. She could feel the heat building inside her, the desire pooling in her core. She wanted to deny it, but she couldn't. She was powerless against the hunger in his eyes, against the promise of pleasure that hung in the air between them. Sue let out a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper, "Yes. I want you to touch me. I want you to make me cum. I want you to love me just like how you do with Yelena and Natasha. Yelena told me you like a naughty girl in bed. So, I thought... You know..."

Tony's lips curved into a satisfied smirk. He knew he had her right where he wanted her.

"Well, I do like to punish naughty girls. And you've been a very naughty girl, Sue. You overwork yourself, and then make everyone worry. So, I'm gonna punish you now," He said as he climbed down the bed. "No touching yourself or cumming till I give you permission."

"What are you...?!" Sue's eyes widened. 'Are you going to spank me if I cum? Choke me and slap me like a dirty slut? Shit! What the hell am I thinking?'

"I'll take you on a date on Sunday. After that, I'll decide," He said as he began to walk toward the door.

"But... But that's 4 days..." Sue said as she sat up.

"Yup! Naughty girls need to be punished. Starting tomorrow, no overworking unless you take the Ageis Serum, or else I'm gonna spank you," Tony said as he looked back and then left her room.

Sue just sat there for a moment, her heart was racing like a jackhammer, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. She couldn't believe what had just happened. Tony had always been playful, but this was something else entirely. She felt a mix of frustration and excitement. She wanted him, wanted him more than before. She loved the way he confidently ordered her not to touch herself or cum.

"Shit! I'm a Sub? Maso? Both?"

[Ironman] Ch: 142 [Blushes and Realizations]

Tony was sitting in the living room, his feet propped up on the table in front, and a bowl of fresh fruit on his belly. Before his eyes were multiple holographic screens. He was doing a side research on his own DNA, checking the changes. He popped a slice of pineapple into his mouth. 

The door slid open behind him. He heard the footsteps. Without looking up, he murmured, "You know, I've been telling you for days to take it easy."

Sue walked over and slumped onto the couch opposite him with a heavy sigh. She looked exhausted. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to scrub away the fatigue, but it was no use.

"Yeah, well, you know me," she muttered, her voice hoarse from too many sleepless nights. "I can't just stop. Not when people are depending on me." She took off her jacket and placed it beside her. The dark circles under her eyes told the story of the past few days—days spent running on nothing but adrenaline and sheer willpower. Oh, and lots of coffee.

Tony looked at her with concern. He knew she was pushing herself too hard. He even told her to take proper rest, but she was stubborn just like him. She won't stop just like that. 

"How'd it go today?" he asked, breaking the silence.

Sue leaned back, her head resting against the couch. Her eyes stared at the ceiling, unfocused, as if replaying every moment of her visit. "It was... it was good. Everything's going smoothly. Today we cured fifteen mutants and got thirty applicants for the hero job. Nat is doing the background check and all that. Then we talked about opening a few more branches around the world. All in all, it was good."

She let out a long, shaky breath, the weight of the past few days settling deeper into her bones. She knew she was making progress, but seeing the effect it had on people's lives—seeing those smiles, those moments of relief—had made all the sleepless nights worth it. Still, the physical toll was catching up with her.

"I think you've done more in the last few days than most people do in a lifetime," Tony said softly, looking at her. He wasn't the type to hand out compliments, but he knew Sue's work was groundbreaking. It wasn't just the science; it was the lives she was touching, the lives she was saving.

Sue smiled faintly at his words. "Thanks again. I couldn't have this without you and the team," she said, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper, "And I know you are worried about me, but I can't help it. I just... I had to see it. Had to know if it was really working."

Tony took another bite of his fruit, his thoughts momentarily drifting away as he processed her words. "I understand what you mean. Been in your shoes too many times and have made a lot of people worried. But at that moment, from my point of view... the end result was all that mattered."

Sue nodded slowly. "I thought I might sleep once I saw it. But I couldn't. Too many thoughts running through my head. Too many people who still need help. And if I stop now…"

"You'll burn out." Tony's voice was firm, cutting through her half-formed thoughts. "Don't make me drag you to bed myself."

Sue laughed softly, though it was more from relief than humor. "I'd like to see you try."

"Alright," Tony said as he deactivated the nanites in his eyes and stood up. He walked over to her. "Bridal carry it is."

He carefully lifted her from the couch into his arms.

"Hey!" She let out a small, surprised gasp, her hand instinctively resting on his shoulder as her body sank into his chest. She could feel the warmth of him, the rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear. For a brief moment, she forgot how much her muscles ached, how heavy her eyes were. It felt almost... comforting.

"Tony!" Sue protested, though the word lacked any real force. "What are you doing?"

"I'm doing what you obviously can't do yourself," Tony replied with a smirk, his voice playful, as he carried her toward the hallway.

Sue smiled as a small blush crept across her face. It wasn't just the physical effort of being carried, but the unexpected softness of the moment that made her feel vulnerable.

"Seriously," she murmured. "I can walk. You don't have to..."

"Yeah, you can walk," Tony interrupted, "but if you keep doing what you've been doing, I'll be carrying you to bed every night for the rest of your life."

'Ummm... He's so warm.' Sue laughed weakly as she gave in, resting her head against his chest. "You're impossible."

"I know," Tony said casually as he carried her down the hallway toward her room. He stopped in front of the door. After a quick scan, the door slid open with a soft whir.

He walked inside and lowered her gently onto the bed. Sue sank into the plush comforter, her body almost instantly relaxing at the feel of the soft mattress beneath her. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and she inhaled deeply, the exhaustion slowly melting away.

"I should've known," Sue muttered, letting out a deep sigh. "You're right. I'm too stubborn for my own good."

Tony walked over to the side of the bed, grabbed a pillow, and fluffed it. "Lift your head." She lifted her head, and he placed the pillow. 

"Humm~" She let out a satisfying sound.

He then took a seat at the edge, looking down at her with a softened expression.

"You need to rest," he said firmly. "And since you won't listen to yourself, I guess I'll have to be the bad guy."

Sue chuckled faintly, but the sound was followed by a quiet groan as she stretched out on the bed. The softness beneath her seemed to call her to sleep, but Tony's voice stopped her.

"Turn over," Tony said, his tone light but still commanding. "I'm giving you a massage. You've earned it."

Sue hesitated, the weight of the day still lingering in her thoughts, but the gentle pressure of Tony's words, combined with the tenderness of the moment, made her obey without protest. Slowly, she shifted onto her stomach, her body grateful for the softness of the bed as she let her arms rest at her sides. 

Tony moved behind her, his hands hovering for a moment as he assessed the tension in her muscles. He could see her pressure points and tensed muscles. 'Wow! She's overworked. I told her to take the serum. Haaa... Well, time to do my magic.' His fingers began working their way across her back, applying just the right amount of pressure to release the knots of exhaustion.

Sue's breath caught in her throat for a moment as she felt his fingers sink into her muscles. It wasn't just the physical relief that washed over her; it was the little care in his movements. There was no rush, no hint of impatience. It was just him, offering her a moment of comfort, of peace.

His fingers were expertly massaging her shoulders, working their way down her back. 

Sue couldn't help but let out a soft moan of relief. 'Oh, yeah. Keep going.' She tried to answer, but the words caught in her throat. She simply nodded with her eyes closed. The weight of the world, or at least the weight of the past few days, seemed to lift off her shoulders with every movement of Tony's hands. 

He then moved toward her feet and cracked her toes, then moved up to her calves, slowly moving up, but stopped near her inner thigh. She wanted him to go up and massage her glutes, but decided not to since it might be weird. 

Tony pressed his thumbs along her spine and slowly applied pressure while moving up to her neck. She bit her lips to stop moaning. 'Fuck! That's a close one.'

"How's that?" Tony asked softly.

"Feels..." She paused, letting the sensation overtake her. "It feels good."

"Well, if you take proper rest from now on, then I might just give you massages like this every now and then."

She couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you, Tony," she whispered, her voice barely audible, but filled with gratitude. "I... I really needed this."

He didn't say anything and continued the massage.

Soon, she fell asleep.

Tony stopped and looked at her sleeping face for a bit before she got down from the bed. He pulled out a blanket from the cupboard and covered her properly. 

"Sleep well, Sue."

He dimmed the light and left the room.

...

[8 PM]

Sue woke up due to the beeping sound of the mail. She closed the notification and let out a large yawn. The muscles in her back no longer ached, and the fatigue from the past few days seemed to have gone, leaving her feeling lazy but refreshed. She stretched slowly, enjoying the sensation of her body loosening up.

"Ohhh~ Yeah."

A satisfied sigh escaped her lips as she rolled over onto her tummy, burying her face into the pillow. The comfort of the bed, combined with the memories of Tony’s gentle touch as he massaged her, made her heart race just a little faster. His hands had been firm yet tender, careful yet confident. She couldn’t help but smile, remembering the way he’d taken such meticulous care with her. The memory lingered, filling her chest with a warmth that was more than just physical relief.

Her mind began to wander to the last few months. Tony had always been there, sharing laughs, working alongside her, their banter playful but laced with something more. She had always been aware of the bond they shared, but tonight, something inside her felt like it was shifting.

Sue knew Tony was in a relationship with both Natasha and Yelena. The three of them seemed to have their own unique dynamic, something that worked for them. But that didn’t stop Sue from wondering whether she could be part of that circle, too. Could she? Would they want her to be? It felt like a bold question, one she wasn’t sure she was ready to ask aloud, but the feelings were there, slowly pulsing in the back of her mind.

After a few moments of silence, Sue shook her head, as if to shake away the hesitation. She had spent so much time holding herself back, so much time wondering, but no more. She was tired of waiting.

Sue took a deep breath, "Alright. Let's do it." She tapped her smart bracelet and activated it. The interface activated in holographic mode as she initiated a video call to Yelena and Natasha, her heart pounding a little faster at the thought of this conversation. She had to do this. She wasn’t going to hold back anymore.

The call connected after a few seconds, and the faces of Natasha and Yelena appeared on the screen. 

"Hey, Sue," Natasha greeted first, her tone light. "Please tell me you took a nap."

Sue chuckled softly, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket as she settled against the pillows. "Yeah, I did. Tony made sure of it." Her voice softened at the thought of Tony, but she cleared her throat and focused back on the conversation. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you both about something."

Yelena raised an eyebrow, always quick to catch on to the change in tone. "Uh-oh. This sounds serious."

Sue hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Well... it’s about Tony. And about, well... all of us."

Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly, an amused but cautious look in her gaze. "You know you can talk to us about anything, Sue."

Sue took a deep breath, feeling her heart race in her chest, but she pressed forward. "I’ve been thinking a lot about the three of you. About Tony... and about how I feel around him."

Yelena leaned forward, her interest piqued. "Go on."

Sue swallowed and lowered her eyes for a brief moment, gathering her thoughts. "I don’t want to overstep or make things weird. But... I’ve developed feelings for Tony. I know about the relationship you all have, and I’ve always respected that. But... lately, I’ve been wondering if maybe... if there’s a place for me in that dynamic."

There was a pause on the other end of the call as Natasha and Yelena exchanged a glance. Neither seemed surprised, but Sue could tell they were considering her words carefully.

"Finally," Natasha said with a smile as she looked at Yelena. "Told you, she won't be able to hold herself back."

"Yep! The way she always looks at him all the time and smiles when no one is noticing, well," Yelena looked toward Sue. "Welcome to the group, Sue. And before you get excited and ask a barrage of questions, hold it in and wait till we get there. We girls are gonna have a nice long chat."

"Oh, and ready to get teased. Yelena took a couple of pictures of you blushing and stealing glances at him," Natasha chimed in.

"No! You didn't!" Sue's eyes widened.

"Oh yeah, I did," Yelena said with a smirk. 

[Ironman] Ch: 141 [Rogue and Janet]

AN: Think of this as an interlude chapter.

---

[Horizon Island – Main Research Wing]

Tony stood at the central console, holographic displays flickering around him. He was deep in thought, eyes scanning strands of DNA unraveling in midair. He adjusted the magnification, highlighting rogue segments of genetic code linked to unstable X-gene activation.

Rogue sat nearby on a medical platform, her sleeve rolled up. A small sample of her blood spun inside a containment vial behind a glass panel. Tony glanced over at her, then back to his screen.

"Alright," he said, his tone focused but calm. "This is going to take some time. Your X-gene's structure is more layered than most. And your mutation seems to have multiple sublevels, in simple words. That's what makes your touch dangerous. But it also means you have more potential than you think."

Rogue gave a nod, "Potential?"

Tony smirked faintly. "You are special. Your mutation just needs boundaries. Once I isolate the right suppressor frequency, I'll pair it with a stabilizer serum. You'll still have your powers, but you'll be able to control when they activate. And you might just become the strongest of all. Anyway, that's for later. For now, let's take one step at a time."

Rogue exhaled, slower this time. She stood up. "Thanks. Really. For not treating me like a problem to be solved."

Tony looked up from his work. "You know, you should really stop thanking me. This is like your 15th thanks."

She gave him a small, grateful smile, then turned to the glass doors at the far end of the lab.

"Ok. I'll try. So... Can I look around this place?"

Tony waved a hand in response without looking. "Go ahead. You'll find a few people worth knowing out there. They've been through their own version of what you're going through. Just ask that bracelet for direction. It'll show you the map of this island and the restricted areas."

[Horizon Island – Courtyard]

The wide-open spaces outside the lab were filled with activity. Training platforms, greenhouses, the robotic sector, then there was the production sector, and a couple of other places. This place went through multiple revamps over the years. 

Rogue walked through the courtyard, her eyes taking in the advanced tech alongside natural beauty. Small drones buzzed past overhead while the Widows practiced hand-to-hand combat and shooting in the training ground. 

She walked into a shaded area where a woman with short brunette hair sat cross-legged on a bench, watching a movie on her tablet. She wore a white and purple suit. The woman looked up as Rogue approached.

"Hey. You're new."

"Yeah," Rogue said. "First day. I'm Rogue."

"Janet," the woman replied. She stood and extended a hand. "Janet Van Dyne. I hear Tony's working on something special for you."

Rogue hesitated only for a second before shaking her hand. The bracelet on her wrist gave a soft pulse, reminding her she was safe.

"Yeah. He's trying to stabilize my mutation."

Janet smiled. "Good. You deserve to live without fear of yourself. If he says he can do it, he will." She closed her tab and placed it on the bench. "C'mon, let's take a round."

They walked for a few minutes, talking about Horizon Island, the training sessions, and the other residents.

As they reached the edge of a pathway, they stopped near a little balcony with stairs on the right that led to the beach. Rogue looked at Janet curiously.

"So, what about you?" she asked. "You got powers too?"

Janet nodded, her steps light and relaxed. "I'm a mutant, same as you. My body can alter its size at will. I can shrink down to insect-scale or grow big enough to knock over a transport truck. I can also generate bio-electric stings and fly."

Rogue blinked, impressed. "Damn. That's... a lot."

Janet gave a small laugh. "It is. And for a long time, it was a mess. The shrinking and flying, sure, those came with a bit of training. But the stings were tied to my stress. The bigger problem was something else entirely."

Rogue asked. "What kind of problem?"

Janet hesitated for a beat, then looked forward with a serious expression. "I had insectoid genetics. I had these insect instincts. I used to get urges I couldn't control. I would feel the need to lay eggs. I craved insects, live ones. I would wake up in the middle of the night with the instinct to burrow. I couldn't be near people without worrying that something primal would take over. It was humiliating."

Rogue stared at her, stunned. "That's... And Tony fixed that?"

Janet nodded. "He did. He isolated the rogue behavioral pattern in my brain's neural feedback loop and neutralized it without affecting the power source itself. It took time. Some trial and error. Well, here I am, completely normal. Now, I don't build nests or eat insects." She said the last part with a chuckle.

Rogue took it in slowly. Her grip tightened slightly on the railing as she looked out at the view. "I’ve always been scared to get close to people. My touch can kill someone. Well..." She paused for a moment, then continued. "When my mutation awakened, I nearly killed someone. So, you know. I've always been alone and treated my power as a curse. Everyone was afraid of me. Well, right now, thanks to the suppressor, I can feel human again. I can't wait for the serum." She smiled a bit.

"C'mon, enough with he gloomy talk and the past," Janet grabbed Rogue's arm and pulled her along as she ran down the stairs, straight to the beach. There were a couple of widows playing volleyball. "Time to enjoy the day."

[10 minutes later] [Beach]

It was a sunny day. The salt breeze rolled in gentle waves, mixing with laughter and the sound of volleyballs thudding against sand. Rogue stood barefoot near the edge of the net, her toes curling into the soft ground. She was wearing a blue bikini that Janet gave her. Her hair was tied back loosely, and the breeze caught strands as she moved.

She bumped the ball upward with both hands, laughter slipping out as it nearly spiraled out of bounds. One of the Widows, a woman named Eva with a red headband and lightning-quick reflexes, dashed in from the side and slammed it back over the net. The group burst into cheers.

Janet gave Rogue a high five and grinned. "Not bad for a first timer."

Rogue couldn’t help but laugh. "This is fun."

"Yeah, it is," Janet replied. 

They reset the ball, and the game continued. Sunlight bounced off the water, and seagulls called from above. Around them, the tension that usually followed Rogue like a shadow was completely absent. She ran. She played. She even shouted with mock frustration when she missed a serve. And for the first time in what felt like forever, her laugh came without hesitation.

By lunch, her face was flushed red, and she got tan lines. She walked back from the waterline with the others, her hair damp from a splash fight she didn’t start but definitely escalated. As they reached the outdoor tables, Jane handed out sandwiches, fruit bowls, and cold drinks. Janet handed Rogue a plate and nudged her toward an empty spot beneath a sunshade.

"You look different already," Janet said, sitting beside her.

Rogue bit into her sandwich and nodded. "Feels different. I never thought I’d laugh like that again."

"You’ll do more than laugh," Janet said. "Just wait for the rest of the team to get back."

Rogue looked around, watching the women chat, stretch out in the sun, and throw towels around each other in half-serious wrestling matches. She saw people who had been broken before but were healing. And now she was part of it.

In that moment, the fear that had been her constant companion felt far away. She wasn’t just suppressing her power. She was beginning to live.

[Main Facility – Observation Balcony]

Tony leaned against the edge of the second-story balcony, a plate of food in one hand, a glass of iced tea in the other. The glass was already sweating in the heat. He looked down at the beach, quietly watching Rogue laughing with the others. She had just flicked sand at Eva, who countered by grabbing a water bottle and chasing her toward the shore.

A rare expression flickered across Tony's face. It wasn’t pride or satisfaction. It was something quieter. Something closer to peace. He took a bite of his wrap, still watching as Rogue doubled over from laughing too hard to run.

He shook his head lightly and turned away, walking back toward the entrance of the cafeteria.

"Better enjoy this lunch before Yelena calls just to yell about how I skipped a meal again," he muttered.

Inside, the table auto-adjusted as he sat down, pulling up the day’s analytics on a side screen. He reached for a fork, paused, and glanced back once through the glass wall toward the beach.

Rogue was still smiling. And this time, she wasn’t pretending.

Tony allowed himself a small smile, then dug into his lunch. The work could wait another ten minutes.

[Ironman] Ch: 140 [A Perfect Failure]

[The Brotherhood's Base] [Surveillance room]

Mystique stood in the center of the room with a worried expression. The unexpected attack by drones took everyone by surprise. It was supposed to be a simple grab and run, instead it turned out to be a mess. Her yellow eyes narrowed at the flickering monitors. She tried to contact the team, but their comms are dead.

Blink paced back and forth behind her, holding her hands out and attempting to open a portal to their last known location. Each time, the same result. Her power sparked, shimmered faintly, then collapsed before it could fully manifest.

"It's like there's nothing there," she muttered under her breath. "No space to grab onto."

Mystique turned her head slightly. "Try again."

Blink clenched her jaw and focused. Her eyes glowed faintly as she summoned the portal again. The air bent and twisted, but then it fizzled out with a pulse of static. She staggered back, frustrated. "Darn it! I just can't... Something's interfering with my portal. It must be those drones."

Forge was flipping through encrypted satellite feeds, ground-based cameras, and Brotherhood surveillance nodes scattered across the city. He typed rapidly, his cybernetic eye flickering as he locked into the last known timestamp of Magneto's location.

The footage skipped like a scratched disc. Magneto's heat signature vanished. The entire quadrant around the street where the battle took place had been rendered a technological dead zone.

"Whoever did it is good. They painted a black hole right over the map," Forge said, voice tense. "Every drone, every satellite feed in the area got fried or looped. They even jacked my tech without me noticing."

Mystique's voice was low and cold. "Looped?"

Forge nodded grimly. "Artificial signal. Someone masked the entire situation and looped every single surveillance tech in New York City. The feeds are just running on a continuous loop, playing over and over. Whoever did this knew exactly how to cover their tracks."

Mystique turned her back to the screen and looked toward the wide staircase that led deeper into the base. The other Brotherhood members were starting to notice the silence. Whispers carried through the stone halls. Questions. Fear.

"Can you track their biometric data?" she asked.

"I've been trying," Forge replied. "But nothing. They're either in a complete stasis field or..."

"Or dead," she finished.

Forge hesitated, not wanting to confirm it.

He leaned back from the console, his cybernetic eye twitching slightly as it scanned through layers of corrupted data streams. He didn't speak immediately, his jaw tightening as he considered what to say next. 

Finally, he exhaled and nodded. "I think it's Stark. This level of coordination, the precision, the suppression field tight enough to cancel out Blink's portals, even the way the feed was scrubbed clean—there's only one person I know who can run ops like that and make it look effortless."

Mystique folded her arms across her chest. She knew and had seen what Tony's technology was capable of. And if he has shifted his attention toward the Brotherhood, then he'll come for them soon. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"I'd bet my other eye on it," Forge replied, swiveling in his chair to face her fully. "If Tony Stark's involved, then the survival odds for Magneto and the others aren't great. He doesn't fight unless he's already planned five steps ahead. If they're still alive, it's because he wants them alive. Otherwise? They'd be ashes, and no one would ever find out."

Mystique was in charge in Magneto's absence, and she knew that with their strongest members and leader gone, things would start to crumble soon enough. Stark will come for them, and they will be too weak to stop him. So, before that happens, she wanted to create countermeasures. 

She stepped closer to Forge. "Can you build something more advanced than his armor? Or at least find a way to counter his suppressors? If he comes after us next, we won't survive a second round with just brute force."

Forge rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, then pushed away from the console. He stood and walked over to a nearby workbench littered with spare components, blueprints, and a disassembled plasma rifle. He picked up a twisted fragment of metal and turned it over in his hands as he spoke.

"I’ve been watching the evolution of Stark’s tech and suits for months. It’s a predictive combat system with real-time adaptability, drone support, neural-link optimization, and possibly AI. The worst part is his constant upgrades, making it challenging to know what’s integrated. Facing it head-on unprepared is suicide."

Mystique’s voice was firm. “Then don’t fight it head-on. Outthink it. Find the holes.”

Forge glanced up at her. “That’s the thing. There aren’t many. But… if I had enough time, the right resources, and complete lab access, I could build something that might level the field. Not match him blow-for-blow, but counter him where it matters."

He paused for a moment. Then said, "But, if you really want me to defeat Stark tech, I need to be present there with enough resources, and someone strong has to fight him for at least 5 minutes and make him use that glowing energy power of his for me to get all the data. Then I'll build something better to counter him on the spot.”

“Then we'll need something to counter his suppressors first,” Mystique said.

“That’s trickier,” Forge admitted. “If we take his Skrull killer tech into account, then he must be using some kind of nanite tech tied to bio-frequency modulation. It targets specific mutation signatures and shuts them down without affecting baseline humans. To counter that, I’d need to isolate the frequency Stark’s using and build something that can jam it or block it on a cellular level.”

“Can you do it?”

He looked at her for a long moment as he drew the blueprint in his mind, then gave a slow nod. “Yes. It's possible."

“Then drop everything you're working on and focus on it. By the way, how is Stark Sr. doing?" She asked.

"Despite the order to stop all operations and focus on taking down Stark, he's working on the clone project. It's already at 70% in progress," He answered.

...

[Meanwhile...] [[S.H.I.E.L.D. BASE – HOLDING CELL LEVEL]

The door slid open with a hiss, and the Maximoff twins stepped inside. The security field rippled as they passed through, then re-stabilized behind them. Tony remained at the entrance, arms still folded, watching every step.

Inside the cell, Magneto looked up slowly. His face was bruised. He didn’t look surprised to see them. If anything, he looked as if he had been expecting this moment.

“Wanda. Pietro,” he said quietly.

Neither of them responded at first. Wanda stepped forward with a cold expression. Tony told them everything and showed them the live footage of Magneto's confession.

“You lied to us,” she said simply.

Magneto didn’t flinch. He nodded once, then looked at the floor.

“You’re not our father,” Pietro added, his voice flatter than usual. “You found us in a lab, took us in, and built a story. You used us.”

“I protected you... raised you as my own,” Magneto said, raising his head slowly. “I gave you purpose. I gave you something the world wouldn’t.”

Wanda’s jaw tightened. “As grateful as we are for saving and raising us, you also gave us an enemy. One we didn’t ask for.”

Magneto looked at her, his eyes dim but resolute. “You wouldn’t have survived without me. Do you really believe Xavier would have come for you? That SHIELD would’ve cared about two enhanced kids abandoned in a lab in Eastern Europe? You would have died in that place. I did what I had to do.”

“You did what benefited you,” Wanda said. "You simply saved us because you wanted weapons for your selfish goal."

There was a brief silence.

“Is any of it real?” Pietro asked. “Did you ever care about us?”

Magneto’s lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but the words caught in his throat. His shoulders sagged further under the weight of the question.

“I did,” he said at last. “I still do."

"Liar!" Wanda said as a burst of chaos energy erupted from her body. "I can sense your emotions. I can read your memories." She looked at him in disgust. "You were going to abandon us there, but then you found the experiment data and decided to use us for your goal. You always wanted to turn us into weapons... Using fake memories, hallucinations to manipulate our minds since we were kids... But thanks to my power, I was able to nullify them. I could've killed you anytime I wanted, but you saved our lives nonetheless..."

She turned back and began to walk toward the exit door. Pietro followed her. She stopped near the door and glanced back. "...think of it as mercy. And we'll expose you. No more mutants or humans will get hurt anymore. That I promise."

Both of them left.

...

[THE BROTHERHOOD BASE – HOWARD STARK SR.'S LAB] [TWO DAYS LATER]

The underground lab was busy as usual. Mechanical arms moved trays of organ samples, cooling systems hummed along the walls, and digital screens showed lines of code on glass panels. The air was cold and sterile, filled with the smells of chemicals and metal.

The clone project was nearing 70% completion. Rows of pods lined the back wall, each containing partial bodies in suspended animation—neural frameworks constructed with a combination of mutant templates and genetic splicing. Some bore the early features of Brotherhood members. Others had enhancements built in from scratch.

Stark Sr. stood before one of the new bodies. He adjusted a circuit on one of the fetal brain interface modules when his fingers twitched involuntarily.

For a moment, he paused.

His right hand began to tremble. He attempted to recalibrate the limb through internal commands, sending override instructions from his spinal CPU. But the tremor intensified.

Then heat surged through his torso. His artificial blood began to boil. He tried to speak, to call Forge, but his vocal module failed. The room’s lights dimmed as the core reactor in his chest flickered under stress. His pain receptors were suddenly activated, and he felt every bit of pain and agony.

He reached for the nearest console, but his legs refused to respond. His vision split, glitching with digital artifacts, color distorting across his synthetic retinas. The processor implanted behind his left eye surged to 300% activity, then flatlined. Internal diagnostics attempted a shutdown, but the system rejected every command.

In his last coherent moment, Howard realized something had infiltrated his body at the root level. 

The safety features shut down.

His body seized, power surging past safe thresholds. The reactor in his chest detonated, obliterating the upper torso in an instant. The explosion ignited the coolant lines and destabilized the containment fields housing the growing clones.

Every system collapsed in under two seconds. It was as if someone had activated the instant self-destruction. The lab imploded into a firestorm of synthetic tissue, plasma arcs, and shattered containment pods.

Above ground, a controlled tremor was felt through the foundation of the Brotherhood's base. Alarms blared as internal sensors reported a complete systems failure in Lab Sector Twelve.

By the time Mystique and Forge reached the wreckage, there was nothing left but just fire and ashes.

...

[Back at Horizon Base]

"Goodbye, gramps. And thank you for wasting their resources and time," Tony mumbled to himself.

----

AN: I know it's late, but do we need Pepper?

Oh, by the way, I think it's time to develop his relationship with Sue. It's been a while since I worked on their private life.