Xcalibur Xc

[Ironman] Ch: 95 [Stark Expo] [pt.2]

Tony stood tall under the lights, the weight of the moment shifting in his tone. This was the moment he had been waiting for. The first step toward a better future.

“I want to show you something,” he said. “And I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Some will love me, and some will curse me for this. But for a better future, it has to be done.”

The screen behind him darkened. Then, grainy footage played. Real, unfiltered. A child in a hospital bed convulsing as doctors scramble. A man screaming as he’s wheeled into emergency surgery, his leg already showing signs of necrosis. A woman screaming as her leg twisted unnaturally, the result of a misdiagnosed bone condition.

The images kept coming. The raw truth.

Overlaying those images were statistics.

[UNNECESSARY LOSS – 1975–1990

Preventable Deaths Due to Diagnostic Error – 251,000 Annually (US)

Average Cost of Full-Body Diagnostic Imaging – $800 + Taxes & other expenses

Undiagnosed Internal Trauma – Leading Cause of Complications in Emergency Care]

There were audible gasps in the audience. Some flinched. Others went still.

The video continued. A man losing an arm to an untreated infection that wasn’t caught early enough. A teen dying from an internal hemorrhage after a sports injury. Patients being turned away due to cost.

Then came the chart. A clean, brutal line graph.

The red line climbed: deaths due to misdiagnosed conditions, organ failure due to late-stage detection, and permanent disability from injuries left unscanned. Another line, blue, traced a parallel rise: the average cost of medical diagnostics.

Tony didn’t flinch.

“This is what happens when systems are slow, biased, or worse... built for profit, not people.”

He paused. The screen froze on a still image of a young boy, his chart reading "undiagnosed neurological disorder – expired, 18 hours after intake."

Tony turned toward the audience.

“This is not just about failure. It’s about injustice.”

He stepped aside, and the display changed. A phone-shaped handheld device floated into view on the screen. The render rotated, its metallic shell gleaming with fine etching along its sides. A pulse of blue lit from the core.

“AMS,” Tony said. “The Anatomy Mapping Scanner.”

The screen split to show a person standing inside a circular platform. A gentle scan swept over them, projecting a full 3D internal map: bones, tissue, nerves, even microfractures and early-stage cellular decay. Every single minute detail, depending on the need.

“Full-body, non-invasive, radiation-free. It scans down to the capillaries. No contrast dye. No delay. Five minutes flat.”

He gestured to a new slide, side-by-side images of a traditional X-ray and the AMS output. The AMS showed early nerve inflammation missed by conventional imaging.

“It identifies anomalies, traces genetic markers, flags infections, and even tracks micro-tears before they become ruptures. It can link with a diagnosis network or work standalone, no hospital needed.”

Tony’s voice lowered slightly.

“And I’m not selling it to insurance companies. Or any private investors so that they could earn profits. It’s going straight to communities. Clinics. Relief camps. Refugee sites. Schools. Anywhere it's needed. And I'm pretty sure everyone is dying to know the price. 80 dollars. At the end of this presentation, a live demo will be provided. Plus, a free checkup for everyone present here.”

The crowd erupted in applause. Everyone just jumped up from their seats, except for those poor investors who invested in traditional medical equipment. 

He let the moment hang, then raised a hand to quiet them.

The screen faded again. Tony stepped forward, face steady. The silence in the hall was heavy now, expectant.

Tony spoke...

"While some suffer in silence, others suffer in the chaos of the streets. In neighborhoods that get headlines for the wrong reasons. In raids gone wrong. In arrests that turn fatal. In the crossfire of outdated tools and outdated thinking."

The display shifted to bodycam footage. Officers crouching behind rusted vehicles. A suspect fleeing down an alley. Shouts, confusion, a flashbang going off too close to a child. Then, stats again:

Law Enforcement Fatalities – 1986 to 1990
Casualties due to outdated gear: 43 percent
Injury rate during civilian confrontations: 62 percent
Civilian deaths involving non-lethal escalation attempts: 38 percent

Tony nodded slowly, grimly.

"We keep giving our frontline officers tools from a war zone and expecting them to operate like surgeons. That doesn't work. Never has."

The screen changed. A figure stood under cool white lighting. The image sharpened. A suit: matte black with cobalt trim, shaped to the body but clearly reinforced. No sharp edges. No weapons visible.

"Aegis Suit. The next generation of protection."

The figure on the screen moved. Jumped. Rolled. Took a round to the chest and barely flinched. Another screen zoomed in on the material's layers. A titanium-polymer weave, flexible but unyielding.

"Lightweight. Breathable. Fully mobile under fire. High-caliber ballistic resistance without bulk."

A wireframe breakdown appeared, showing internal systems lighting up in sequence.

"Built-in trauma sensors. AI threat detection with real-time HUD feedback. Heart rate monitors, spinal alignment support, emergency defibrillator pads, and... non-lethal stun gloves."

Another clip played. A training simulation. The suit's user took down two aggressors using precise movements and a short, targeted electric discharge. Both subjects immobilized. No permanent damage. No excessive force.

Tony looked out over the crowd again.

"This isn’t about giving officers more power. It's about giving them better choices. Faster data. Safer outcomes. For them. And for everyone else."

He took a breath.

"The Aegis Suit isn’t going to every department. It’s going to departments that agree to transparency. Oversight. And reform. You want it? You sign the code of conduct. You train with it under human rights doctrine. No exceptions."

The audience was quiet again, but not from lack of interest. They were processing it. The implications. The tension between fear and progress.

Tony gave it a second, then continued.

"There will be criticism. That's fine. There should be. But this is how we fix it. With tools that de-escalate, protect, and save lives... not take them."

He let that settle, then turned toward the side of the stage again.

"And before we close, there’s one last thing to show you."

The footage of highways, city streets, and open deserts... empty of tailpipe smoke, and a map of the country with blue dots.

Tony stepped forward, voice steady and clear.

“Today, I’m proud to introduce the next revolution in transportation. Stark Motors.”

The screen split into three panels: a compact city runabout, a sports car slicing through desert highways, and a heavy-duty transport truck climbing a mountain pass.

“Zero fuel vehicles, from small to big. 100 percent eco-friendly. No petroleum. Diesel. No coal. No fuels. No compromises.”

He tapped the podium. The left panel zoomed in on the sports car’s wheel arch. A translucent overlay revealed the Micro-Reactor beneath the chassis, pulsing with blue-white energy.

“Ten thousand miles on a single charge. Ten thousand miles. Quiet. Emission-free. And built for performance.”

The center panel switched to a grid of glowing points mapped over a city skyline, charging stations lighting up in sequence.

“But power means nothing without distribution. Meet the Stark Localized Charging Grid. Mini reactors placed exactly where you need them... gas stations, parking garages, and temporary charging boxes for your personal use, up to 6 charges. 1 charge, 10k miles. Plug in anywhere. The price for each charge is half of what you currently pay for your gas, and it'll be fixed for all vehicles."

A moment passed after Tony finished.

Then the silence broke.

The crowd’s reaction was instant and divided.

One section of the audience erupted into cheers. Students, researchers, activists, and environmentalists stood up, clapping hard, some even whistling. A woman in a lab coat fist-pumped the air. A teenager shouted, “Yes!” while pointing at the car. "That car looks sick."

But not everyone looked happy.

Near the middle rows, a group of older men in dark suits murmured among themselves, faces tight. Two of them leaned toward a third, clearly trying to stay calm while typing on their tablets. One man with a corporate security badge shook his head and whispered, “He’s about to kill the energy sector.”

A few others didn’t clap. They just stared. Processing. Calculating. Some skeptical. Some annoyed. Some terrified.

One investor folded his arms and muttered, “That’s impossible. He’s bluffing.”

Another, older man seated next to him didn’t respond. He just stared at the projection of the charging grid, his fingers twitching slightly over the edge of his briefcase.

Cameras flashed from every direction as journalists scrambled to cover reactions. Headlines were already being written.

Howard and Maria exchanged a glance from the upper balcony. Maria’s expression was calm. Howard just exhaled slowly, a small, impressed smile forming on his lips.

In the tech VIP zone, Susan crossed her arms, a quiet grin tugging at her mouth.

Behind her, Julian, the biochemist from earlier, leaned over and whispered, “He just lit the world on fire.”

“Yeah,” Susan said softly. “But it’s the good kind.”

[Back to the stage]

"I know what you're thinking," Tony said, voice rising over the buzz. "Ten thousand miles on a single charge? Zero fuel? It sounds impossible."

The room quieted. Everyone wanted to hear how he was going to explain this one.

"I expected skepticism. In fact, I welcome it. Because I’m not here to peddle hope without proof. So here’s what I’m going to do."

He turned slightly toward the screens again.

"Next week, I’m inviting international regulators, engineers, media reps, auto industry watchdogs, energy experts, and every one of those angry investors to a secure facility outside Nevada."

Behind him, a map blinked on, highlighting a restricted zone marked “Horizon Test Sector A12.”

"There, I’ll run a full live demonstration. Real car. Real road. Real diagnostics. Measure the emissions. Check for fuels or whatever you want. And if any of you find a gas tank in that chassis, I’ll eat it."

Laughter rippled across parts of the audience. The tension broke just enough to let some oxygen back into the room.

"But here's the part some of you won’t like," Tony added, his tone shifting.

He looked directly at the section of suited men who still sat stiff in their seats, jaws tight.

"I'm not selling patents to oil companies. I’m not licensing the tech to automakers who want to bury it under a decade of delay tactics and boardroom red tape. This is happening. Whether it cuts into someone's profits or not."

He let that land.

"My goal isn’t market domination. It's not another billion dollars. It's a livable planet. Breathing cities. Clean skies. Quiet streets. No more poison in the air. No more kids growing up next to refineries. No more wars over barrels."

The screen behind him lit up again, this time showing a time-lapse of a major city skyline going from gray to blue, smog fading, stars returning overhead.

"I don’t care if a handful of people lose their investments. I care if my future generation can walk outside in eighty years without a respirator. And if that means some old stock portfolios crash, so be it. As for job loss... We are opening multiple facilities around the world. So, there will be plenty of job opportunities."

There was a pause.

Tony scanned the crowd again. A quiet confidence settled into his posture.

"I didn’t build these technologies to be stored in a vault or to feed boardroom greed. I built them because I could. Because they should exist. And now they do."

He gave a small nod.

"So, for those of you still in denial, still whispering to each other about lawyers and delays and sabotage... I dare you..." Tony smiled. "...try it. See how far you get. I’ve already made the data open to international regulators, safety boards, and environmental councils. And after the live demo, the global open license distribution begins. No one can bury it. No one can steal it."

He paused. Then, just as the stage lights dimmed slightly, he said one last thing.

"And if you still think I’m bluffing..."

He pointed at the main screen.

"Next week. Nevada. I’ll be there. Bring your doubts."

The lights dropped.

The crowd roared.

Cameras flashed.

Some people stood to applaud. Others stood just to storm out.

Tony didn’t care.

He had just thrown down the gauntlet on the old world.

And this time, he wasn’t waiting for permission.

This was just the beginning...

---

AN: Next. A bit of focus on Susan and the aftermath of the announcement and then back to spaceship building.

[Ironman] Ch: 94 [Stark Expo] [pt.1]

AN: Unedited. Wrote this ch on UPS. Didn't have enough charge to edit.😅 So, let me know if there are any mistakes. See ya tomorrow.

---

[Year: 1991]
[Location: New York City – Stark Expo Grounds]
[Time: 9:00 AM – Opening Day]

The morning sun hit the glass of the newly finished Stark Expo center, sending a cascade of light across the steel and chrome spires surrounding it. The plaza buzzed with the energy of thousands of attendees, all flooding through the security gates, flashing badges, adjusting cameras, and pointing at the holograms flickering over their heads.

The reporters were swarming around the place. Then there were those investors and researchers from high places. Students, kids, and even independent researchers were there.

Above the entrance, a massive display blinked with animated lettering:

STARK EXPO 1991 – FORWARD TOGETHER

Dozens of drones zipped through the air, projecting advertisements, interactive schedules, and stylized previews of key presentations. Holograms of clean energy models, biomech limbs, modular space architecture, and AI symbiosis drifted in the air like a slow-motion ballet.

In the center of the grounds, surrounded by elevated walkways and massive LED screens, stood the keynote stage. Stark Industries banners hung from the towers like flags, and the crowd packed tight against the barriers.

The security was tight. Melina was in charge of it, so there was nothing to worry about.

There was a big timer which was ticking... 

10 seconds left before the main event starts.

Everyone was there in the main hall. 

Then, the music cut off as soon as the timer hit zero.

The lights shifted to the main podium.

And Tony Stark stepped into view.

He wore a deep blue suit with a matte black undershirt, no tie, no badge, and no script. Just confidence and clarity.

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers. Camera drones hovered for a better angle. Journalists scrambled to get the perfect shot. His fame increased massively after the release of the commercial holographic technology and computers. So, people were expecting something groundbreaking again from him.

Howard and Maria stood in the top gallery, looking at their son with pride. Natasha was also there with them. As for Yelena, she wanted to come, but someone had to look after the Celestial Island. 

Tony raised one hand and gave a single nod.

"Welcome to the future," he said into the mic, voice carrying clear and strong. "And thank you for showing up to meet it halfway."

The applause returned, louder this time. He let it settle before continuing.

"This year, the Stark Expo isn’t about products. It’s not about sales or shareholders. It’s about people. The thinkers, builders, and risk-takers who work in basements, garages, and midnight labs. The ones who dream past the limits the rest of the world tells them to accept."

A pause. Then he smiled slightly.

"And I’m done pretending science needs permission to change the world."

That line hit. It echoed across the crowd like a spark.

"So, without delaying further, let's begin..." He pointed toward the 16-year-old boy standing on his right. The spotlight fell on him.

The boy stepped up beside Tony, stiff at first, blinking under the lights. He wore a plain sweatshirt and jeans, hands tight at his sides. His name lit up behind him in bold white letters:

Alex Reyes – Age 16 – Bronx

He was nervous.

Tony looked at him, then turned to the crowd.

"This is Alex. Two months ago, his school science fair disqualified his project because they said it was too advanced and probably stolen. They gave first place to a baking soda volcano."

There were murmurs and a few scattered laughs.

Tony continued. "Alex built a micro-drone the size of a fingernail. It maps interiors in real time and sends data to any device with less than a one-second delay."

The screen behind them shifted to a close-up of Alex's drone. Then a live feed from its camera. It flew out over the crowd, zipped through a narrow camera rig, and back again. People gasped.

"This is the future of surveillance, disaster response, and urban search. And he built it on spare parts."

The crowd applauded, this time louder. Alex smiled, just a little.

Tony clapped him on the shoulder.

"He's now a fully funded developer under the Stark R&D Grant. Next."

Another spotlight. Another name.

Dr. Mei Tanaka – Robotics Researcher – Dismissed from MIT

Tony introduced her as she stepped onto the stage with a calm, collected gait.

"Mei was fired from her lab because her employer didn’t believe assistive robotics for elderly care had a real market. They told her to shift her research toward 'combat exosuits for defense contractors.'"

The screen lit up with her prototype. A soft, joint-assisted exosuit that could be worn by people with arthritis or recovering from strokes. It moved gently, responding to muscle impulses with smooth, lifelike grace.

She demonstrated it herself, lifting a weight her frame had no business carrying, then letting go without a sound.

"She didn’t want to build weapons," Tony said. "She wanted to help people stand up. And now she will. Stark Industries has provided her with a full lab, a team, and no military strings attached."

Next came a young woman in a wheelchair.

Lena Khatri – Age 22 – Engineer – Rejected by Five Universities

Tony waited as the audience quieted. Lena rolled herself to the center, unbothered by the silence. A female assistant carried a chair and placed it on the stage. She sat down on it.

"This is Lena. Every institution she applied to told her she lacked ‘formal credentials.’ None of them bothered to test what she could actually do."

Tony glanced at Lena, then stepped aside and gestured to her with a small nod of encouragement.

“She built something unique. Personal mobility without wheels.”

The crowd leaned in.

Lena tapped a button on her chair’s armrest.

With a soft hum, the wheels retracted, and the entire frame lifted several inches off the ground. Her chair hovered in place, balanced and still. Then she moved smoothly, effortlessly, gliding across the stage like it was a perfectly polished floor.

There were gasps. Whispers of disbelief. Then cheers.

Tony smiled as she completed a slow turn and stopped beside him.

“Zero-impact movement. Designed with affordability and modular upgrades in mind. First applications start next month in hospitals and mobility clinics across the country. And it started in a garage in Queens.”

The applause rolled louder. Lena gave a small, quiet wave and returned to her place.

Tony turned slightly toward the other side of the stage.

“Next.”

A man in his early thirties walked up. Messy hair. Lab coat. Looked more like a night-shift tech than a keynote guest.

Name flashed on screen:

Julian Park – Biochemist – Unfunded Independent

Tony nodded toward him. “Julian cracked a food packaging issue no one was solving. Not because it wasn’t important, but because it wasn’t profitable.”

Julian raised a clear film between his fingers, barely visible.

“Biodegradable, edible, shelf-stable for up to two years. Breaks down naturally within forty-eight hours in soil or water. Costs less than a penny per unit to produce.”

A projection showed the material being exposed to rain. It dissolved instantly into a harmless mix, completely gone.

“No more plastic wrappers in landfills,” Tony said. “No microplastics in oceans. He did it without a lab team. Just time, tenacity, and his kitchen stove.”

The crowd clapped again, louder this time. Whistles. Someone in the back shouted, “Finally!”

Julian gave a humble bow and walked off.

Tony gave the signal again. “Next.”

After a few more demos...

The name appeared:

Dr. Susan Storm – Geneticist, Independent Researcher

Tony stepped toward the center stage again.

“Our next speaker is someone I met not long ago. And in that short time, she’s done what most institutions couldn’t accomplish in a decade. She’s not just brilliant... she’s relentless. She’s spent years chasing an answer no one wanted to fund, no one wanted to risk, and no one wanted to believe could work.”

He turned slightly toward the side of the stage.

“She built a cure. Not for a disease, but for a burden. For a life people didn’t choose.”

A murmur passed through the crowd. Tony continued.

“This is Dr. Susan Storm. And what she’s about to show you… is the beginning of a new kind of choice.”

The spotlight shifted. Susan stepped forward in a fitted black blazer over a slate-grey shirt and narrow-leg pants, her hair tied back. She walked calmly, carrying a small, flat case in her left hand.

She stopped at the center, just past Tony, and faced the crowd with quiet command.

“Good morning,” she began. Her voice was steady. Clear.

“I’m not here to talk about erasing anyone’s identity. I’m here to talk about agency. About the right to choose what kind of life you want to live.”

She held up the case and opened it. Inside was a small glass vial, faintly glowing with a pale violet hue.

“This is the RECODE serum. It doesn’t suppress abilities. It doesn’t ‘fix’ mutation. It does one thing, and one thing only... restores biological equilibrium to people whose mutations are causing them pain, instability, or progressive internal damage.”

The screen behind her came to life, showing side-by-side genetic models. Mutated genes flickering erratically on one side. On the other, stable strands post-serum application.

“There are mutants who can’t touch their loved ones without causing injury. Children whose bones grow faster than their skin. People with voices that rupture organs. For too long, they’ve been ignored, hunted, imprisoned, and discarded by society and the law.”

She paused.

“This isn’t about fear or being ‘normal.’ It’s about the freedom to say: I don’t want to suffer for something I didn’t ask for.”

The crowd was silent. Focused. Listening.

Susan continued, her tone unwavering.

“This serum is voluntary. Reversible. It rewrites nothing that wasn’t already trying to repair itself. It doesn’t erase the mutation. It stabilizes the unstable cells. So people can heal. Or sleep. Or stop hiding.”

The screen behind her showed a simulation where mutation cells were stabilizing without scarring. A girl’s arm stops mid-shift from a spasm-inducing mutation.

“I’ve tested it. In the lab. On simulated samples. And now, thanks to the resources and support of Stark Industries, we’re moving toward real-world trials under full medical oversight. Ethical, consent-driven, and free of corporate ownership. More details will be announced soon.”

Applause started. Light at first, then growing. Some stood. Others just sat, stunned.

Susan stepped back slightly and let the screen fade.

“I didn’t come here to ask for anything,” she said. “I came here to show that even the worst problems aren’t impossible. Just... inconvenient for the people who don’t have to live with them.”

She closed the case and gave a small nod to the crowd.

“Thank you.”

Tony returned to her side as the applause surged again. This time louder. More than polite. It was real.

He leaned in and said low enough for her alone, “You crushed it.”

Susan gave him a small smile. “I know.”

Tony stepped back to the mic.

“Ladies and gentlemen…  this is why we build Expos.”

He took a deep breath...

"Now, I guess, it's time for the finale. You must be wondering what I have created during my years of absence from the limelight... other than the perfect holographic technology? Well... Here we go..."

---

Slight delay

Heavy rainstorm as usual out of nowhere. No electricity. So, expect new ch around midnight or tomorrow.

SHAZAM POLL RESULT

1) Wonder Woman

2) Hippolyta

[Ironman] Ch: 93 [A night of pleasure]

AN: Just smut. Next, Ch will start with the Stark Expo day.

---

[Hotel Room]

As soon as Tony and Natasha stepped into the hotel room, she pinned him against the door and kissed him hard. His brain short-circuited instantly, all thought fading into nothing but the taste of her cherry lipstick, her hands in his hair, her hips pressed against his.

Tony grabbed her butt cheeks and pulled her up into his arms. Natasha wrapped her legs around him as she kissed him again. He carried her to the bedroom, dropping her on the bed, then he climbed on top, pinning her wrists above her head as he kissed her neck.

"I don't think I have ever seen you this aggressive before," he whispered into her ear.

"Don't get used to it."

"I could very much get used to it." He grinned, biting her lower lip. "It's turning me on."

She tried to flip him over. He held her down firmly, grinning.

"Oh? Playing rough already? I like it." She smiled mischievously, trying to flip him again.

"What happened to not getting used to it?" He chuckled.

"I don't play fair." She tried flipping him again.

Tony held her down easily, and this time he didn't hold back. He kissed her roughly, dominating her mouth with his tongue. The kiss was so intense that it left her gasping.

Natasha couldn't remember the last time she felt this turned on. She felt her core clench. She squirmed beneath him. It was maddening. It was intoxicating. But she still tried to get free and go on top of him. And she was cursing herself for avoiding the new serum. Had she taken it, she might have managed to pin him down instead.

"Stop resisting."

"Or what?" she breathed.

He bit her lower lip and then sucked it hard, making her moan. Tony smirked at her, then kissed his way down her neck to her exposed collarbone. She shuddered in anticipation as he slid his hands down to cup her breasts, massaging them through the thin material of her dress.

Then, in one swift motion, he ripped the front of her dress open.

Natasha's eyes widened in surprise. "You just ruined my dress!"

Tony simply raised an eyebrow, "This is a nanite dress. It'll fix itself."

"Tsk," Nat rolled her eyes.

He grinned, "You wanted to catch me off guard to get on top, huh?"

Natasha huffed, "I'm gonna get you back for this."

"Oh? That sounds exciting," he laughed.

She tried to bite him, but he dodged it with ease and gave her a smug smirk.

"You're not getting away that easily." Natasha glared at him.

Tony grinned, "Oh, yeah? And what are you going to do about it?"

He squeezed her right boob and pinched her nipple. Natasha moaned loudly. Her breasts were extremely sensitive, even more so when she was aroused, and right now she was extremely turned on.

"Ahh..." She arched her back to press her breasts against his hands.

He continued massaging her breasts while kissing her neck. Natasha moaned in pleasure, her whole body tingling from the sensations he was giving her. He slowly went down and kissed between ber boobs before he started sucking on her left nipple.

"Ahh... fuck!" Natasha cried out.

Tony flicked her nipple with his tongue, then sucked hard on it. Her pussy was getting wetter by the second. He then moved to the right nipple and did the same thing. By now, Natasha was a moaning mess. She tried to rub her legs together to relieve some of the tension building in her, but he noticed and stopped her.

"Oh, no, you don't," he said.

He let go of her nipple and spread her legs open. Then, he slowly started kissing his way up her inner thigh until he reached her pussy and blew warm air on it.

"Ahh! Stop teasing me!" She begged.

"You want me to taste you then?" Tony said with a sly smile as he looked up. His eyes were fixed on hers and his face was just an inch from her pussy. She could feel his breath on her clit and he could smell her arousal. It made his cock even harder if that was even possible.

"Taste? I want you to eat me!" Natasha groaned in frustration.

Tony chuckled and then buried his face between her legs. His tongue licked her from bottom to top and she gasped. He took his time teasing her clit with his tongue, sucking on it and nibbling gently on it.

"Ahh... Ahhhhh!" Natasha moaned softly.

She gripped his hair and pulled him closer as she bucked her hips up to meet his mouth. It's been too long since they had sex. It's always work and saving the world, but right now, it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that they are together and enjoying each other.

Tony sucked on her clit while sliding two fingers into her pussy. Natasha moaned louder as he started pumping them in and out while sucking harder on her clit. He then curled his fingers upward and hit that spot inside her that drives her crazy.

"Ahh! Yes! Ahh..." She cried out.

Her thighs clenched around his head, and he knew she was close. So he kept pumping his fingers into her while sucking harder on her clit. Natasha felt like she was going to explode. Her whole body was shaking, and her toes curled as she came hard, her juices gushing out of her and into his mouth.

Natasha collapsed on the bed, panting heavily as she tried to catch her breath. She felt like she just ran a marathon. Tony lapped up her juices, licking her clean before moving up to kiss her. She could taste herself on his tongue, and it turned her on again.

"God! That was awesome," She whispered.

Tony smiled against her lips before kissing her again. He broke off the kiss and whispered. "I'm putting it in." His cock's tip was already touching her pussy.

Natasha nodded as she grabbed his cock and began to rub it all over her pussy, before positioning it at her entrance. Tony slowly pushed in, savoring the feeling of her warm, tight pussy engulfing his cock inch by inch.

"Ahh!" Natasha moaned in pleasure.

"So tight!" Tony mumbled.

When he was fully inside her, he stopped for a second to catch his breath.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah... Just give me a minute," Natasha replied, breathing heavily.

She felt so full with his cock inside her. She could feel every inch of him stretching her walls, filling her completely.

After a few moments, Tony pulled back slowly, until only his tip remained inside. Then, he pushed forward again, burying himself deep inside her once more.

"Oh, god! It's hitting my ends," Natasha moaned loudly.

"You're so fucking sexy," Tony whispered into her ear before nibbling on her earlobe.

Natasha wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he started to thrust in and out of her faster and harder. He increased the pace until he was pounding into her with every thrust. She grabbed his ass, urging him to go faster.

"Ahh! Yes! Yes! Fuck me!" She cried out.

"You like that?" Tony asked in between pants.

"Yes! Don't stop! Fuck me harder!" She screamed.

Tony gripped her hips and started slamming into her with all his might. Natasha's moans grew louder as she felt another orgasm building up inside her. Her boobs were bouncing with every thrust, and her pussy was soaking wet with her juices.

"Ahh! I'm gonna cum again," Natasha moaned.

"Cum on my cock," Tony growled as he pounded into her harder and faster.

Natasha screamed in pleasure as she came hard. Her walls clenched around his cock as she squirted all over it. Her nails dug into his back as she rode out her orgasm. Tony kept fucking her through her orgasm until she was trembling beneath him.

Tony stopped for a moment, letting her catch her breath before they changed the position. Tony lay on his back as Natasha was finally on top. She leaned down and kissed him hungrily, her tongue exploring his mouth as she moved her hips back and forth.

She began riding his cock, slowly at first, but soon picking up the pace. Tony grabbed her hips, helping her move as she bounced on top of him, taking him deep inside her with each thrust.

"If you keep doing that, I won't last long," He warned.

Natasha grinned wickedly as she continued to ride him.

"You think I care?" She said as she continued bouncing up and down on his cock. "You wanna cum, do it. But I won't stop riding till I get two more orgasms."

"You're evil," He groaned.

"And you love it," She teased before leaning down to kiss him passionately.

Her hands roamed all over his body, exploring every inch of his chest and abs. Her fingers brushed against his nipples, eliciting a groan from him. She smiled as she felt him getting closer to orgasm.

"Hng! Shit!" Tony couldn't hold it any longer and came deep inside her.

Natasha kept moving her hips, riding him through his orgasm as she felt his cock pulsating inside her. She loved the feeling of his cock twitching inside her as he filled her up with his hot cum.

But she didn't stop there. She kept riding him until she came again. The sloppy wet sounds of their sex filled the room. Natasha continued bounding on top as Tony grabbed her boobs and started playing with them.

"You're still hard? I'm impressed," Natasha grinned wickedly as she felt his cock still rock hard inside her.

"How could I possibly go limp with you here?" Tony Smirked.

He switched their positions once again, and he was on top again. He pounded into her furiously, making sure that every thrust was deeper than the previous one. He fucked her so hard that the bed creaked underneath them. Natasha could feel another orgasm coming and she felt his cock twitch again.

"Let's cum together," She whispered.

He nodded and continued fucking her like a man possessed.

"Ahh! Fuck! I can't take it anymore!" Natasha screamed as she arched her back and writhed beneath him.

Tony felt her walls clench around his cock as she came again, and he couldn't hold back any longer. He released it at the same time as she did and they both climaxed together. Tony groaned loudly as he emptied his seed into her, filling her womb to the brim. Natasha's moans grew louder as she felt herself being filled up by him.

Their bodies were covered in sweat as they tried to catch their breath. Tony collapsed beside her, exhausted from the intense sex. Natasha snuggled close to him, resting her head on his chest as he wrapped an arm around her.

They lay there for a while, enjoying each other's warmth and closeness. Natasha could feel his heartbeat slowing down to normal and she smiled to herself.

"I love you." She whispered.

"I love you too, Nat." He kissed her forehead softly.

They stayed like this for a while until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

[Shazam] Ch: 6 [Amazon & clown]

[2 years later]

[Fawcett City – Cafe] [11 AM – Year: 2025]

The rain poured hard outside. The streets were wet, the sky was gray, and people moved fast under umbrellas, trying to stay dry.

Inside a small corner cafe, it was quiet and warm. Soft music played from a speaker near the ceiling. The smell of coffee and bread filled the air. A few customers sat scattered across the room. Most were looking at their phones or laptops. No one paid attention to the tall man sitting near the window.

John sipped his black coffee, his eyes on the rain outside. He wore a brown hoodie, some faded jeans, and boots still damp from the walk-in. His hair was a bit longer now, and he had a short beard. Nothing about him stood out. He looked like any other working-class guy on a rainy day.

And that was the point.

For the past two years, John had done nothing that could draw attention. He worked odd jobs. Moved from place to place. Construction, warehouse, cleaning, and even food delivery. He never stayed in one spot too long. He lived in a small, one-room apartment on the east side of Fawcett City. 

He hadn’t used his powers since the day he left Kahndaq.

Not once.

Not when his ribs cracked during a fall on a job site. Not when he got jumped by two guys in an alley for his wallet. (He simply stabbed them and left them to bleed out in the alley.) Not even when he had an accident that almost killed him.

He stayed human.

The reason? 

It was simple because there was someone in the Justice Society who could trace his existence, and that wasn't an option. Not to mention, there was Batman, who always had a way to find other superhumans' weaknesses. 

However, he learned martial arts and spent a few months learning his way around guns and other weapons. He was like a multitasking pro.

As for Luna, she started a new life in Metropolis, thanks to Talia. Last time he checked on her from a distance, she had already skipped a few grades and was now going to college. 

John stirred his coffee slowly, still watching the rain. In his coat pocket was a small notebook. He carried it everywhere. Inside were pages full of notes and names. It looked like a superhero fanatic's record book.

Superman. Batman. Wonder Woman. Aquaman. Flash. Green Lantern. Hawkman. Atom Smasher. Stargirl. Cyclone. Dr. Fate and a couple of other heroes. 

He also made a list of active villains like Joker, Harley, Penguin, Riddler, Calendar Man, Dr. Freeze, and a few others. 

He had been watching quietly. For months, he studied newspapers, watched talk shows on Superheroes, overheard street talk, and read every public record he could find.

The Justice League existed alongside the Justice Society. But they didn’t get along. Too many leaders. Too many secrets. And their different ways of doing their job. It was clear that there was tension among them. Public opinions about them are mixed. Some preferred the League while others preferred the Society. 

Then there was Amanda Waller and her Suicide Squad. That was a darker group. Criminals forced to do missions for the government. Dirty work. High risk. Zero mercy. John had watched them operate from a distance once. He saw them bring down a warehouse full of meta-humans during one of his late-night food delivery jobs. He saw Polka-Dot Man slaughtering a group while laughing like a maniac. Luckily, he drove fast from that area.

What surprised John most was when he found out that Billy Batson was just a normal kid here. So were his foster siblings. There was no Shazam. No wizard. No magical word turning a boy into a god.

It made no sense.

Some of the timelines were right. Others were wrong. This reality was broken. Like pieces from different puzzles shoved into one box.

A clusterfuck.

And the scariest part?

He had no idea what was coming next.

He took out a pen and flipped open his notebook. On the newest page were a few questions he had written:

"Why am I here?"

"What's next?"

"Too many heroes and villains. So, is there a reason for me to step in?"

He stared at them for a long time.

He sipped his coffee again, then...

Booom!

The boom shook the windows.

People in the cafe screamed and dropped to the floor. A few ran for the exit. Cups fell off tables. Plates crashed onto the floor. The lights flickered.

John stayed seated.

He looked up slowly and turned toward the sound. The explosion had come from the street just across the block. Smoke rose into the gray sky. He set his coffee down and stood up, pulling his hoodie tighter.

Outside, chaos had taken over.

A black armored van had crashed into a bank. The front was smashed in. A group of armed men in dark gear stormed out. They wore masks and carried rifles. One of them had a rocket launcher on his back. People screamed and ran. Cars screeched away.

The gunmen opened fire on the building. Glass shattered. Alarms blared. The gunmen shouted orders to each other.

John stood on the sidewalk, still watching. He clenched his fists. But then took a deep breath, releasing the clench. This wasn't his problem. The heroes will deal with them soon. No reason to get caught up in this mess.

Then he saw her.

A streak of red and gold shot down from the sky and slammed into the street, sending two gunmen flying. One hit a light pole and didn’t move. The other bounced off a car and rolled onto the pavement.

John recognized her.

Wonder Woman.

The rest turned, shouting.

“OPEN FIRE!”

Bullets flew.

The woman didn’t flinch. She raised her shield and deflected every shot. Sparks flew as bullets bounced off the metal. She moved fast, a blur of skill and force. Her lasso whipped out and yanked one man into the air. He screamed as he slammed into the ground, his gun sliding away.

The leader of the group shouted and raised his rocket launcher.

“Take her out!”

He fired.

The rocket flew straight toward her.

She stepped forward and swung her shield.

The explosion was deafening. Fire and smoke burst out in a wave, sending debris flying.

When it cleared, she was still standing.

Not a scratch.

The woman stepped out of the smoke, calm and steady. She cracked her neck one before she threw her sword.

It spun through the air and sliced through the launcher, cutting it clean in half. The leader stumbled back, stunned.

She caught her sword as it returned to her hand.

She moved again. Fast. Too fast. 

She dodged a swing from a steel pipe and broke the attacker’s nose with her elbow. She spun, kicked another one into a parked car, and used her lasso to slam two more together.

Within seconds, it was over.

All the gunmen were down. Some groaning. Some unconscious. None dead.

She stood in the middle of the wreckage, chest rising and falling. Her shield hung by her side. Her sword rested against her shoulder. The rain hit her armor and slid off like water over stone.

Police sirens echoed in the distance.

People peeked out from behind cars and buildings. Phones came out. Cameras flashed.

Wonder Woman turned to look at them.

Then she looked up.

Her eyes locked on John.

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

She tilted her head slightly, as if she sensed something. She glanced down at her lasso and noticed the faint glow and heard the faint humming sound. It was as if it was reacting to something. And by the time she looked up. 

John just disappeared into the crowd.

Diana narrowed her eyes.

Something wasn’t right.

She could feel it.

John didn’t look back after slipping into the crowd. He kept his hood up, head down, and moved fast. The streets were still full of panic and sirens, but he stayed quiet, weaving between people until the noise faded behind him.

He took a side alley, passed a locked gate, and ducked into a back entrance of a small building. On the door was a faded sticker that read:

"Tony’s Pizza – Hot. Fast. Honest-ish."

Inside, the kitchen smelled like garlic, cheese, and grease. The floor was slippery, the walls were stained, and the radio near the oven blasted rock music from twenty years ago.

Tony stood behind the counter, yelling into a headset, sweat pouring down his bald head. He waved when he saw John.

"You’re late!" Tony shouted.

John checked the wall clock. It was 12:07.

"Seven minutes," John said, hanging his coat on a hook.

"Seven minutes is late when there’s a lunch rush! Suit up! You got a big one."

John grabbed the delivery bag and the keys to the red scooter parked outside. He pulled on a waterproof jacket and his helmet.

Tony held out a ticket.

"Three extra-large meat lovers, one veggie, two garlic breads, and a two-liter soda. Go to this address."

John looked at it.

321 Locke Street. Apartment 4B.

"Cash on delivery?"

"Nope. Paid online. Big tip too. Must be someone’s birthday or bribe-your-neighbors day."

John nodded, took the pizza bag, and headed out.

The rain hadn’t let up, but he didn’t mind. He liked the cold. The scooter coughed a few times before starting. He zipped into the wet streets, weaving through traffic, splashing water as he went.

Fifteen minutes later, he reached Locke Street. It was a quiet block. Older buildings, lots of graffiti, cracked sidewalks. He parked the scooter near the entrance, grabbed the pizzas, and headed up the stairs.

The building smelled like wet carpet and cigarette smoke.

He knocked on 4B.

No answer.

He knocked again. Louder.

Bang! Bang! Bang! 

Three gunshots came from inside...

John froze.

The pizzas slipped a little in his grip. 

'Why the fuck am I getting into troubles lately?'

From inside the apartment, he heard a woman’s voice. High-pitched. Playful. But with a sharp edge that could cut glass.

“Puddin’, you shouldn’t have lied about your past.”

He knew that voice. There's only one lunatic who used that word.

Harley Quinn.

'Fuck!'

He heard something crash. Maybe a chair. Maybe a person hitting a wall. Then came a whimper. A man begging.

“Please, Harley, I didn’t mean to...” Joker's voice. "Wait a second. Not the kneecap."

Bang!

Another gunshot, followed by a muffled scream.

John stepped back, his eyes locked on the door. The pizza bag hung in his hand like dead weight.

He looked left. Empty hallway. Looked right. Same.

He set the pizza bag down quietly. Then he was about to get out of there.

The door opened with a band.

A pale hand with black nail polish pulled it wider.

Then she stepped into view.

Harley Quinn.

Hair in two messy pigtails, half pink, half blue. Bright red lipstick. Blue eyeshadow. A little star tattoo on her left cheek. She wore a red hoodie, short shorts over fishnet stockings, and boots covered in glitter and blood. She smiled like a wolf who had just finished dinner.

Her smile faded when she saw John.

She tilted her head. “You’re not my usual pizza guy.”

John said nothing.

“Where’s Tony’s usual meatball with arms?” she asked.

John kept his eyes on her hands. The gun was in her left hand, pointed at the floor.

“Busy,” he said.

“Aw. That’s too bad. You’re kinda cute.” She looked him up and down. 

But John's eyes were on the guy in a purple suit who crawled out of the door and tried to crawl away with bloody knees. Harley shot his butt without looking back.

"Ooh," John's eye twitched. "That's gonna hurt."

[Ironman] Ch: 92 [A little cryo problem]

The night was calm. City lights flickered in the distance. Natasha held Tony’s hand, ready to pull him somewhere more private.

Then it happened.

A loud explosion shook the ground. The shockwave rattled glasses on nearby tables. Seconds later, a series of sharp gunshots echoed from a few blocks away. People started yelling. Some ducked. Others ran to the edge of the rooftop to look.

Tony and Natasha turned at the same time.

A figure shot out of a crumbling building's rooftop. A man in a tight blue suit, ice-blue lines glowing across his arms and spine. He skated through the air as ice formed beneath his feet. Each swipe of his arm threw jagged blasts of ice at the NYPD officers trying to set up a perimeter.

Cops scrambled for cover, shouting over each other as bullets whizzed past.

Tony’s eyes narrowed. His nanites kicked in instantly, scanning the bag and the guy.

“Money,” he said aloud. “Lots of it. Humm... That guy mutated his own DNA artificially. A Cryogenic human. And his suit is customized with cryo tech.”

'That guy looks familiar.'

As soon as he put pressure on his mind, trying to remember the identity of that man from the comics in his past life, the mind stone helped him remember the details. Tony now remembered...

Dr. Gregor Shapanka, Ph.D., an employee of Stark Industries, was conducting private research into a means for achieving physical immortality. He attempted to rob the private vault of Anthony Stark, head of Industries, in order to obtain microtransistor designs that Shapanka intended to sell to finance further research in his private project. However, Shapanka was unsuccessful in his theft; captured, he was brought before Stark, who fired him. [Short version. You can check the fandom for more info.]

However, in this reality, there was a twist. Tony never hired him. So, there was no way that Gregor could have made that suit on his own without the technology. 'Could it be!' He ran a quick scan on the Stark Industries employee list, but Gregor's name wasn't there. He then searched his database and found it. Gregor's name was on the list of Hammer Industries employees. With Hammer Industries shut down, that guy must have run out of money, thus doing the classic bank robbery.

Natasha didn’t hesitate. She looked straight at him.

“Go,” she said.

Tony paused for a second, searching her face. She gave a small nod.

“You sure?” he asked.

Natasha stepped back with a smirk. “We can finish where we left off after you deal with him.”

While the guests were still watching the scene unfold, Tony slipped away from the crowd and headed toward the upper part of the building. He climbed a short maintenance stairwell and reached the roof.

The nanites inside his bloodstream responded instantly. They surged out from his skin pores, covering his body in a smooth wave. Within seconds, the classic red and gold suit formed around him. The helmet clicked into place, eyes glowing soft blue. 

"Hermes, Arctic mode," Tony ordered.

[Arctic mode- Activated]

The nanites shifted, changing colors to pure white, and the suit was ready to deal with the ice guy. 

He checked the trail of ice across the skyline.

“Target’s moving north,” he muttered.

The repulsors in his boots flared to life, and he shot off the rooftop, bursting through the air like a silent missile. He flew low between buildings, scanning ahead.

Nobody knew who he was. Some pointed their fingers at him, whispering about the Shadow Legion, and some even started taking pictures.

Tony locked eyes on the ice-skater ahead.

“Alright, Frosty,” he muttered. “Let’s dance.”

Tony pushed his thrusters harder, and almost instantly, he zipped past Gregor and stopped before him, aiming his right fist at Gregor. The nanites shifted, forming a sonic cannon.

"Put down the money and surrender, Gregor," Tony warned.

Gregor skidded to a stop mid-air, his boots sliding on a path of ice that curved high above the building. He squinted through his visor at the figure floating in front of him. His breath fogged the inside of his helmet.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" Gregor shouted. "And how the hell do you know my name?"

"I'm the guy who's going to shut you down," Tony said.

Gregor scoffed. "You can't stop me. You have no idea what this suit can do."

He raised both arms. Twin streams of ice blasted toward Tony like spears.

Tony activated the sonic cannon, meeting the attack head-on...

The ice hit the sonic wave mid-air. A loud crack echoed through the sky as ice shards exploded in every direction.

Tony hovered, stable. Gregor slid backward on his ice path, arms raised again.

“You sure you want to keep playing?” Tony called.

Gregor didn’t answer. He launched forward, ice flaring from his boots. A frozen ramp formed beneath him, curving high above the city.

He jumped off the end of the ramp and came crashing toward Tony like a missile, both hands glowing bright blue with stored cryo energy.

Tony spun mid-air, dodging the first punch. Gregor's ice-coated fist missed him by inches. But the second swing clipped Tony’s shoulder.

CRAKKK.

A layer of frost exploded on contact, locking up part of Tony’s right arm.

“And that was supposed to do what exactly?” Tony said.

His nanites moved fast. The armor around his arm shifted, melting the frost off with a quick heat pulse. Steam hissed as the ice evaporated.

Gregor landed on a nearby rooftop. Ice spread from his boots, covering the roof in seconds.

“You’re fast,” he said, panting. “But you’re not ready for this.”

He slammed his palm on the ground. A giant spike of ice shot up toward Tony.

Tony dropped fast, dodging it, then zipped forward. He landed on the rooftop across from Gregor and formed a new weapon.

“Hermes,” he said, “EMP + Sonic Cannon Combo.”

The nanites on his left arm reshaped into a wide, short cannon with glowing blue rings.

Tony fired.

The beam hit the rooftop, right in front of Gregor.

Boom! The ice shattered. The glow in Gregor’s suit dimmed.

“What... what did you do?” Gregor asked, stepping back.

“Shut down your cooling system,” Tony said. 

Gregor growled and raised his hands again. “I’m not done!”

He used his own power since his suit wasn't responding thanks to the EMP and blasted a massive wave of ice, freezing part of the rooftop and sending sharp spikes shooting at Tony. 

Tony jumped into the air, spun around, and launched two repulsor blasts. The ice shattered mid-flight.

Gregor followed, skating across a new ice path. He leapt into the air, pulling two ice blades from his forearms.

He came at Tony fast.

Tony blocked the first slash with an energy shield. The second one scraped his helmet.

“Okay. You got close,” Tony said.

Then he fired a point-blank blast at Gregor’s chest.

The hit sent Gregor flying across the sky.

He crashed into the side of a building, his ice armor cracking. He tried to recover mid-air, but Tony was already there.

He grabbed Gregor by his throat and slammed him onto the ground.

Gregor groaned, struggling.

"I WON'T LOSE LIKE THIS!" 

But Tony sent another sonic boom at him. His suit cracked open. Blood came out of his ears and nose. His eyes became bloodshot. Tony flew down. The nanites on his finger formed a needle, and he slammed it into Gregor's neck, injecting the bio-nanites.

"What are you doing?" Gregor spat.

"Just fixing your customized genetic enhancement. Not to worry," Tony pulled out the needle. The nanites shifted back into his suit. "You are now a regular human. No more cryo power. And as for your suit." 

He pressed his palm on Gregor's chest. The nanites crawled over Gregor’s armor, and within 10 seconds, that blue armor was turned to dust. 

'Alright, data and DNA, collected. Time to get out of here." Tony was about to fly away when the cops surrounded him, aiming their guns.

"Don't move," One of the cops warned. He looked like a newbie, trying to act tough in front of his superiors. 

"Really, now? What the hell is wrong with you guys? Pointing guns at the guy who just stopped a robbery and saved your asses?" Tony asked. 

The young cop with a shaky grip shouted again.

"I said, don't move!"

Tony sighed inside the helmet. His voice came out through the suit, calm and firm.

"I’m not the enemy here. The guy who froze your street and almost dropped a building on you? That was him."

He pointed to Gregor, who lay on the ground groaning, still too weak to move.

The other officers looked at each other, unsure. One of them lowered his weapon slightly.

Tony held his hands up slowly, palms facing forward. The repulsors glowed soft blue, but he didn’t charge them.

"I’m not here to fight cops. I stopped the threat. He’s neutralized, and his powers are gone. And that gun ain't gonna do much other than make me angry. So, stand down, tough kid."

One officer stepped forward cautiously. Older, more experienced.

"You some kind of government project? Shield? CIA?"

"No," Tony replied. "Just someone who helps when others can’t."

"You have a name?"

He smiled under the helmet.

"I'm Iron Man."

The cops exchanged looks. One of them muttered, "Iron Man?"

But the officer in charge held up a hand.

"Stand down. He’s not attacking. And he did just save the city block."

Guns lowered.

Tony walked toward Gregor. He picked up the duffel bag filled with stolen money and tossed it toward the nearest cop.

"Return that to the bank. And make sure you put on a better perimeter next time."

Then, before anyone could ask more questions, he launched into the air. The thrusters lit up, and he flew high over the buildings, leaving a white trail across the sky.

[Ironman] Ch: 91 [Sudden date with Natasha]

[Natasha’s Quarters] [Around 7 PM]

Natasha had just finished drying her hair, barefoot in a black tank top and joggers, scrolling through combat training schedules on her tablet while sipping tea. She was standing before her work desk.

The door opened with a soft hiss.

Before she could turn to see who it was, two strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her gently back against a familiar chest.

“Hey,” Tony whispered into her ear, his voice low, a little breathless from the day’s chaos.

Natasha blinked, surprised for a second. He hadn’t messaged. No call. No ping. Just... showed up, smelling faintly of ozone and machine oil.

She leaned her head slightly, a faint smile playing at her lips. “Shouldn’t you be elbow-deep in weapon diagnostics or doing zero-G backflips in a mech?”

“Did that,” he murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Calibrated, re-tested, exploded once, almost drowned... and now I need a break.”

He gently turned her around in his arms until they were face to face. His eyes were tired but warm, that rare version of him she saw when the mask slipped just enough to let her in.

She raised an eyebrow, both hands still resting lightly on his chest. “So? What’s up?”

Tony kissed her. Not rushed. Not playful. Just a slow press of lips that said I missed you, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

Then, still close, he said, “Dinner. You, me. Off-base.”

Natasha blinked again. “Dinner?”

“New York,” he added casually, like he was suggesting ordering takeout. “I made a reservation.”

“You made a reservation?” she echoed, now fully stunned.

“I know. Terrifying,” Tony smirked. “Took me fifteen seconds. I even called myself a name in the notes. ‘Do not seat this man near candles.’ Real classy.”

She stared at him for a second, caught somewhere between suspicious and touched. “You’re serious?”

“I want one evening where we don’t talk about adamantium, space radiation, mutant genetics, or warlords. Just you. Me. Real food. Wine. Something resembling normal.”

Natasha’s expression softened. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again, this time deeper, with that slow burn that always knocked the wind out of him. 

“You’re full of surprises today,” she whispered before biting his lower lip softly.

Tony leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m full of a lot of things. But right now, I’m full of one idea... dinner, you, skyline view, maybe some soft jazz if you’re into that kind of torture.”

She pulled back just enough to give him a teasing look. “You clean up nice, Stark?”

Tony grinned. “I’ll even comb my hair.”

“That’s commitment,” she said as she moved her head close to his neck and took a sniff before kissing. “You need to take a nice bath." She pulled back a little and looked at his usual jacket with a hoodie, "And wear something blue? It looks good on you. Makes you sexy." She winked.

...

[Tony’s Quarters]

Steam rolled along the ceiling of Tony’s bathroom as he stepped out of the shower, hair damp, towel slung low on his hips. His muscles ached pleasantly from mech training and lab work. Still, the second he’d felt Natasha’s kiss earlier, his brain had switched gears completely.

Dinner. A real one. 

He walked to the sink, wiped steam off the mirror, and eyed himself. The stubble stayed. Clean shave felt too much like a board meeting. He brushed his teeth, ran a hand through his wet hair, and pulled open the wardrobe he barely touched.

The blue suit was still wrapped in plastic. He pulled it out carefully.

Dark navy. Tailored. Simple but sharp. Natasha had picked the fabric months ago during one of their rare downtime days. At the time, she said nothing, just handed it to him like it was a dare. He hadn’t worn it. Not yet.

Tonight was the night.

He slipped into the pants, adjusted the cuffs, and rolled on the shirt. The jacket came last. Smooth, breathable, stitched with micro-thread armor plating that nobody would ever notice. 

He adjusted the collar, checked his reflection, and smirked. “Damn.”

Hermes chimed softly from a ceiling speaker.

“Transport is ready. Coordinates set. ETA twenty-three minutes to location.”

Tony tapped the comm.

“Notify Natasha. Tell her not to be late. I hate waiting. Even when she’s worth it.”

Hermes responded.

“Message sent. She replied with: ‘Try not to crash the car before I look hot.’”

Tony grinned as he opened his watch collection and put on one with a blue crystal theme. And as usual, it contains nanites. 

After that, he walked out, the hallway lights responding to his steps. The elevator doors parted, and the platform lowered in silence, bringing him down to the landing pad.

His ride awaited: a low-profile Stark flyer, midnight-black, shaped like a luxury coupe but silent as a whisper. Fully cloaked, untraceable, and outrageously over-engineered for a dinner date.

...

[Natasha’s Room]

Natasha stood in front of the full-length mirror, zipping up the back of her dress. Black, thigh-high slit, off-shoulder neckline. Elegant but unpretentious. Practical where it counted. Her hair was pulled into a low knot, clean and minimal, a few loose strands framing her face.

Her lipstick was deep wine. Her heels were discreet but sharp enough to be a weapon if needed. She checked her nanite bracelet, then grabbed her purse, and turned once in the mirror.

She didn’t usually dress up. But for this?

Yeah, she’d make an exception.

Elena’s voice came through the room’s speaker.

“Your transport is waiting. And I must say... red on black. Bold choice.”

Natasha smirked. “Eyes off, Elena.”

“Don’t worry,” the AI replied. “I’m more interested in how many jaw drops you’ll cause tonight.”

She walked out without another word.

...

[Hanger bay]

Tony glanced at the time and smiled to himself. "Two minutes early. That’s gotta break some universal law."

Then the doors at the far end of the hangar opened.

She stepped in.

And for a split second, Tony forgot how to breathe.

His brain stalled.

Natasha walked slowly, heels tapping with precise rhythm, the hem of her dress sweeping just above her thigh. The black hugged her like it was sewn onto her soul: off-shoulder, slit up the side, elegance laced with danger. Her walk was confident, unrushed, like she owned every step.

Tony’s heart thudded harder, tripping over itself.

When she finally did glance his way, something in her eyes, cool, sure, and faintly amused, hit him square in the chest. His breath caught. The dress, the hair, the lipstick… God, the lipstick.

“Damn…” he muttered under his breath, louder than he meant to.

Natasha stopped just a few feet from him. "Is that the part where you say something witty? Or are you still rebooting?"

Tony blinked, then let out a short laugh, eyes roaming once, respectfully, but thoroughly. “You look… I mean, you already know, but...”

“I do.” She smirked. “But go on. I like hearing it.”

“You look dangerous, sexy, hot, breathless,” he said softly. “And I'm kinda having a harder time controlling myself from hugging you and kissing you.”

She stepped in closer, looking up at him. “You clean up nice.”

Tony leaned slightly, voice low. “You make that dress illegal.”

Natasha slid a hand along his chest, smoothing the lapel. “You’re lucky I like criminals.”

He took her hand gently, lifted it, and kissed her knuckles. No smirk this time. Just eyes locked on hers. Serious. Warm.

“Let’s go make New York jealous.”

She tilted her head, grinning. “Lead the way, Mr. Stark.”

He offered his arm.

She took it.

And together, they stepped into the flyer, the hatch closing behind them as the engines hummed to life and they flew toward their destination.

...

[Location: New York City – The Aurelian, Rooftop Restaurant]

Night sky, busy city, cool air...

Tony and Natasha sat across from each other on a private balcony terrace, half-wrapped in the hush of the evening. The table was tucked away from the rest of the diners, screened by a living wall of ivy and soft ambient light. 

She swirled the red wine gently in her glass, eyes steady on his.

Tony watched her without hiding it. 

"You’re staring," she said, lips brushing the rim of her glass.

"I am. Intentionally. Can’t help it when the view clears my mind."

She smirked. "That’s poetic. Did you rehearse that?"

"I ran through five lines in my head before landing on that one. Seemed like the least likely to get me kicked under the table."

Natasha leaned forward slightly, chin propped on one hand. "I’m still deciding."

Their first course arrived. Tony barely looked at it. Some fusion appetizer with shaved truffle and a glaze he couldn’t pronounce. What mattered was how she looked, biting into it, eyes closing just a second too long like the flavor surprised her.

"You always eat like that?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"Like the food’s passing a test it didn’t study for."

She raised an eyebrow, playful. "You’re charming when you’re tired."

He rested his hand flat on the table between them. She didn’t hesitate. Her fingers found his.

"I needed tonight," he said.

"I know."

"No labs. No mechs. No galactic risk reports. Just one dinner with you, and the city breathing below our feet."

"You’re getting sentimental," she said, but the softness in her eyes didn’t argue.

"I’m letting myself feel things. Don’t make me regret it."

Natasha ran her thumb across his knuckles. Her voice lowered, more serious now. "You’re allowed to feel. Even if the world keeps asking you to act like you don’t."

He looked down for a moment, then back at her.

"You’re the only part of this I don’t second-guess."

"And you’re the only part of this that lets me stop looking over my shoulder."

They continued to talk and soon...

Their mains arrived. Neither touched them right away. There was too much weight in the quiet now... good weight. Familiar. Intimate.

After a few bites, Tony reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, flat case. He set it in front of her.

"What’s this?"

"Something I built a while ago. Thought about giving it to you. Couldn’t figure out if it was too much."

She opened it.

Inside was a pendant. Minimalist design, the size of a thumbnail, with a soft blue glow in the center. She opened it, and a soft tune started playing as a tiny holo-screen appeared on top, playing all their past recorded memories. 

Natasha quickly closed it as soon as it came to the part where Natasha was singing in the garden while feeding the birds.

"Ha!" Her eyes widened as she tried to hold her smile. 

"Oh, yeah. You got a nice voice. Don't try to hide it," He winked.

The rest of the dinner moved slowly. No rush. No schedules. They talked about normal things like music she didn’t hate, weird food he’d never try again, and what Yelena would think after learning about this dinner date.

When dessert came, Natasha pushed her plate away.

"I’m full."

"You didn’t even try it."

She looked at him over the rim of her wine glass. "I’m saving room."

"For what?"

She stood slowly, walked around the table, and took his hand. Her eyes flicked to the quiet corner of the rooftop lounge behind them.

"For whatever happens next."

SHAZAM POLL

Not the final poll. You can suggest some new girls. Since I'm still in the drafting phase, it'd be easier to go slow and make it proper. [No Teen Titans characters]

You can choose any 2.

In the past, I've used Power Girl's character in multiple books. Now, it'll be Supergirl. Harley Quinn will be there. Like, where's the fun without a Super Harley?

[Ironman] Ch: 90 [Model 50 x MECHA]

[Location: Horizon Facility – Underground Lab Sector 7][Time: 2:41 AM – Two Days Later]

The lab lights activated as Tony stepped through the pressure-sealed doors, fresh from his return flight. He looked tired, hoodie halfway zipped, a protein bar in his hand, and a holo-slate already scrolling in front of his eyes.

The container sat at the center of the chamber inside thick glass walls, triple-sealed, filled with a swirling pool of dark silver metal. Liquid adamantium. It moved with an eerie, almost sentient rhythm, like mercury on steroids. The surface constantly shifted.

"Welcome back, boss," Elena's voice echoed from the lab's central speaker. "Yelena's shipment arrived this morning. Batch One: eighty-two liters. Temperature stabilized. No degradation."

'Looks almost alive.' Tony thought.

Tony didn't respond immediately. He moved closer to the container, watching the liquid swirl. When he approached, it pulsed faintly as if reacting to his proximity.

He tapped a few controls and brought up the elemental scan overlay.

"Let's see what makes you so special," he muttered.

Elena projected the readout in front of him. The analysis scrolled fast.

Molecular Density: 4.3x denser than Vibranium

Thermal Resistance: Absolute stability up to 11,000°C

Impact Displacement Index: 97% energy redirection

Residual Kinetic Memory: Detected

Quantum Structure: Semi-adaptive crystalline layering

Magneto-gravitational Conductivity: High

Radiation Absorption: Extreme-level retention, no leakage

Tony raised his eyebrows at the last line and whistled.

"Absorbs radiation like a sponge and doesn't bleed it out. Perfect for ship hulls… or armor."

Elena spoke again. "Also, I've run a simulation, taking all its properties into account. The metal you've been looking for all this time to build the Model 50 suit. This is it. The scans match early-stage symbiote resonance patterns."

Tony blinked. "Interesting. Looks like Celestial blood is really different from man-made metal. So much potential. Well, time to create new gen nanites."

[Time: 5:46 PM – Six Days Later]

The entire chamber had been cleared out. The usual lab clutter was gone. There were no open benches, no scattered tools, no coffee mugs or datapads left behind. Just one thing sat in the center now: a raised platform with a containment rig glowing in soft blue pulses. Around it, suspended in magnetic fields, floated billions of microscopic units... Tony's newest creation.

It wasn't easy, but thanks to his Mind Stone in his head, it became too easy. The reason it took so much time was due to the mass production of the nanites. 

Now, it's time to see the result.

"Legion," Tony said, stepping onto the platform, wearing nothing but a black interface suit beneath his hoodie. "You ready?"

"All subroutines are active. Nanite formation matrix is synchronized. Awaiting your command," Legion replied, its voice steady and focused.

Tony exhaled slowly and raised his hand. The air shifted.

Billions of liquid metal fragments began to ripple in place. At his gesture, they surged forward, drawn to him like a magnetic tide. 

The Iron Man Mark 50 suit runs without an arc reactor by utilizing a combination of advanced technology and nanotechnology. It's designed to be self-contained, with a built-in power source, and also includes features like supercapacitor batteries and a powerful inertial dampener system. But in case of an emergency, it can run on Arc Reactor.

"Begin armor sync. Override defaults. Full neural tether," Tony said, stepping into position.

One by one, the nanites latched onto his suit interface. At first, it was just a shimmer around his chest. Then his arms. Then his spine. The liquid crawled across him like living circuitry, flowing into shape, hardening, flexing, adjusting.

And then it snapped together.

Chestplate first, then the shoulders, forearms, and boots. The helmet came last, folding over his face in smooth panels that locked together with a sound like magnetic locks slamming shut.

The HUD came alive.

MODEL 50 ACTIVE

ARMOR CORE: NATURAL ADAMANTIUM / SYMBIOTIC NANITE SYSTEM

ENERGY BALANCE: 100%

SUBSYSTEM STATUS: ALL GREEN

Tony flexed one hand. The armor shifted with him, like a second skin without any lag. Lighter than Vibranium, tougher than anything else on Earth. And silent. Not a single servomechanical hum.

"Legion, give me full diagnostics. Power response."

The nanites flared. Energy flowed through the suit like electricity through nerve endings.

"Response time: 0.0005 seconds. Synaptic sync: 100%. No latency."

Tony took a slow step forward. The nanites shifted with his movement, adjusting the tension in his legs, redistributing energy. He jumped. Landed. Pivoted. Spun in midair and landed again with a thud that cracked the reinforced platform, and the suit hadn't even activated its kinetic dampening.

"Run combat systems," he said.

Weapons formed instantly.

A shoulder railgun snapped into place on his left side. A plasma blade slid out from the right wrist. Two pulse repulsors charged silently in his palms. But none of them looked rigid. Everything was alive, formed of flowing metal, shifting and breathing with his movement.

"Hahaha! Hell yeah!" Tony was satisfied with his creation.

“System fusion is stable,” Legion confirmed. “Weapons array can form over 2,700 loadouts. Adaptive combat prediction is online.”

“Activate Loadout 2,” Tony said.

Instantly, dozens of weapon formations spiraled out around him. These weapons exist without being attached to the suit: Drones, laser cannons, tendrils, sonic guns, and independent energy arrays.

Tony thought of retracting them, and instantly they vanished, slipping back into the armor like water disappearing into the sea. There was no lag at all.

He stood silent for a moment.

He didn't speak.

He just closed his eyes.

He could feel it. Every micron. Every signal. The suit was more responsive than he imagined. It was intuitive. Like it wasn’t just listening to him... it was him.

“This is it,” he said softly.

He opened his eyes, looked at his reflection in the containment wall.

Silver. Organic curves. It was perfect.

He deactivated the armor with a simple thought. The nanites dissolved back, dispersing into the interface suit beneath.

...

Next, Tony began the next phase of his development. 

“Hermes,” Tony said. “If we’re walking into solar flares, asteroid fields, or God help us, a gravitational pinch near a neutron star, we’re gonna need suits. Space-rated. Vacuum-hardened. Modular.”

“Spec sheet?”

“Fast. Lightweight. Autonomous reentry protocol. Full life support. Radiation shielding, personal propulsion system, limb-lock feedback response, auto-seal hull tear recovery, and neural sync compatibility with my nanite grid.”

“Understood. Initiating build sequence.”

Blueprints began forming in the air: humanoid armor silhouettes, modular back units, oxygen cycling systems, reinforced helmet lattices. Tony pointed to the third design.

“That one. Start with that. That’ll be the base model for the team. Let’s call it the Solar Frame Type-Zero.”

[Hours Later – Prototyping Bay]

Three suits now stood on hydraulic lift plates, each shimmering with adaptive materials. Their base color was silver and dark graphite, but the plates shifted faintly as if unsure which spectrum of light to reflect. Tony walked past each one, eyeing their details.

Type-Zero: Standard tactical. Built for EVA and combat. Smart-fiber musculature and grav anchors in the boots.

Type-Zero-V: A variant model meant for high-speed orbital entry. Wing arrays. Micro-shield emitters. More like a space fighter than a suit.

Type-Zero-R: Reinforced heavy unit. Meant for carrying loadouts or protecting non-combatants. Its shoulders were broader, its limbs thicker, and its processor cores doubled for field repair modules.

“Status?” Tony asked.

Hermes answered. “Type-Zero series ready for remote calibration. Diagnostics at 96.3% functional stability. Life support endurance: twenty-three hours. Radiation resistance at 7.6x planetary baseline.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Not bad for two shifts and zero overtime. Alright, combine them in a single suit with the mode option. Create ten suits."

"Affirmative," Hermes replied.

Then he turned toward the last project, the one nobody else was allowed to touch. A dream project.

The mechs.

He has been working on these babies for some time now. But with the new gen nanites, all he had to do was put the model info in, and the nanites would do the rest.

It took 30 minutes to complete the procedure...

On the far end of the hangar, three gantries slowly rotated as the lights came on. Each held something monstrous in size and design: twenty-five-foot exo-frames built with both humanoid and hybrid configurations. They were designed for combat and terrain that didn’t care about physics.

These were Titans.

Tony walked up to the nearest one, resting a hand on the cool plating of its leg. A glowing blue Stark insignia pulsed beneath the armor like a heartbeat.

“Let’s start with TITAN-1,” he muttered.

[TITAN-1 – Design Notes]

Height: 8.2 meters

Core Material: Hybrid adamantium alloy

Cockpit: Neural link pod

Weaponry: Twin pulse cannons, shoulder railguns, deployable hard-light shield, gravitic sledge unit

Power Source: Arc Core XL – Modified

Feature: Auto-adaptive nanites.

Behind him, TITAN-2 and TITAN-3 were more specialized.

TITAN-2 was bipedal, with arms capable of transforming into excavation tools, carrying gear, or clearing debris in zero-G environments. An industrial-grade support mech with defensive upgrades.

TITAN-3 was leaner, designed for atmospheric flight and reentry. Think fighter jet with legs. Antimatter sensor rig on its back and a deployable recon drone hive in its chest.

Tony took a deep breath, looking at the towering figures.

“This is overkill,” he admitted out loud.

Then he smirked. “Gonna blast some shit off with these babies."

He stepped onto the platform as the AI activated the gantry arms, slowly prepping the first mech for test runs. Within minutes, TITAN-1’s chest opened like a vault. A pod lowered, waiting for him.

“Legion, sync me up. Minimal neural threshold. No full immersion yet.”

//“Link established. Ready for dry simulation.”//

Tony climbed in.

The moment the hatch sealed, everything changed.

He wasn’t standing in a pod anymore. He was the mech. His arms moved, and the mech responded instantly. Every twitch, every motion. A delay so small it might as well not exist.

Outside, the floor shuddered as TITAN-1 took a step.

Then another.

And then it ran.

...Across the hangar at a speed no machine of its size should’ve been capable of.

“Yup,” Tony said inside the helmet, grinning. “We’re gonna need a bigger runway.”

...

[Back in Horizon Command]

Natasha walked into the control room, coffee in hand, and glanced at the live feed. She watched Tony sprinting across the test field in a mech that looked like it could punch through a bunker.

Then he slipped and rolled on the ground before the propulsion system activated, and the mech flew like a rocket, crashing into the ocean.

"Ha! Elena, you did record that, right?" She smirked a little.

"Yes. Everything is being live recorded all the time, no worries," Elena replied. "Are you perhaps thinking of using that particular accident footage to blackmail Boss for a kiss or sex?"

"Eeh?! What the hell is wrong with you?" Natasha said as her eye twitched.

"Interesting. Human emotions are too complicated. Forget I said anything," Elena replied. Her tone was like she were analyzing Natasha's behavioral pattern. According to Elena's records, Natasha did actually use an embarrassing situation a few weeks back to get a couple of kisses from Tony behind the training hall.

There was a moment of pause before Tony flew out of the water and took a spin around the sky.

“He’s building giant robots now,” she muttered. "What's next? A robot that can transform?"

Elena’s projection flickered beside her.

“I believe the term he prefers is ‘combat frame,’ but yes. Technically accurate. And yes, the next project is a transformer jet.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

Elena smiled faintly. “Only if we run out of metal.”

[Shazam] Ch: 5 [God or a threat?]

AN: Words. 2.8k. Big chapter.

---

The Lazarus Pit hissed louder as Luna's body sank beneath the surface. The water shimmered, glowing with eerie light, casting shifting shadows across the stone chamber. Steam rose like smoke from a volcano. It stank of metal and rot, like old blood and burning air.

John knelt at the edge, fists clenched, eyes locked on the spot where she disappeared. The surface bubbled. Then it stilled. Silence returned.

Talia stepped closer, her voice calm.

"It takes time. Sometimes seconds. Sometimes minutes. It depends on the strength of the soul and the body."

John didn’t move. His eyes never left the Pit.

The water rippled.

Then it exploded.

A figure shot upward from the Lazarus Pit like a missile, soaked in glowing liquid, arms outstretched, mouth open in a raw scream.

Luna.

Her eyes burned green, wild and unfocused. Her hair whipped in every direction as she landed hard on the stone floor, crouched like a cornered animal. Her fingers dug into the stone. Her breath came in fast, broken gasps.

John stood quickly.

"Luna!"

She lunged.

Faster than he remembered. Stronger. Her hands slammed into his chest, but it was useless against his power. He just stood there. She spun away and staggered backward, shaking. Her eyes locked on him, still burning green in the darkness.

He took a step closer.

She hissed and was about to jump forward when Talia shot her with a sleeping dart. Luna hit the floor with a sickening thud, almost instantly.

John ran to her and lifted her head, her body limp in his arms. The glowing green water poured from her hair and dripped onto the stone floor. Her eyes were closed, her breathing soft.

He looked up at Talia.

"What did you do?"

"I sedated her. Don't worry, she'll wake up soon enough. Take her and follow me."

John took Luna's unconscious body in his arms and followed Talia out of the pit. They walked inside the main mansion. Talia opened the door of a room. Inside was a bed with an antique wooden frame. A small table sat to one side with a glass of water. The windows were covered by thick curtains. But the room was well lit.

John laid her on the bed. He was happy to see that she came back to life.

He pulled a chair next to her and waited.

Talia brought food and drinks. John refused to eat until Luna woke up.

He was getting impatient. What was taking so long?

"You must eat," Talia said. "And rest. It could take some time."

"I don't require food. Or rest."

"It's not a requirement. It's a pleasure."

John ignored her.

Talia sighed. She looked at Luna, lying on the bed.

"You're in love with her."

"Love?" John thought for a moment as he watched Luna's face. Was it that kind of love? Or something else? He didn't know. But he felt something. Something strong. Something that he'd never experienced before. Something he couldn't control. "Doesn't matter."

Talia watched him for a moment longer, then said, "Get out of the room. I'll change her clothes and clean her up."

John reluctantly left the room, closing the door behind him. He stood outside the room, pacing back and forth. He didn't understand why he felt this way. He felt anxious. Restless. He wanted to be with her. He needed to be near her. It was like he couldn't breathe if he wasn't close to her.

He didn't understand why he felt these things. But he knew it was real. And it scared him.

After what felt like hours, Talia opened the door. John rushed inside.

An hour passed before Luna stirred.

Her eyes opened slowly. No green light. Just gray and dazed. She looked around, confused.

John leaned in, relief flooding his face.

"Luna. You're awake."

She blinked. Then looked at him.

"Who are you?"

The words hit him harder than any blade ever could.

"It's me. John."

She pulled away slightly. Her eyes searched his face, but nothing sparked.

"Where am I?" she whispered.

John swallowed hard.

Talia stood nearby, arms crossed, watching with quiet interest.

"You got into an accident, but you are safe now," John said with a warm smile. He couldn't tell her that she was shot.

She glanced around the room again, as if searching for something.

"Where are we?" she asked again.

"She lost her memories. The cost of using the pit. I'm sorry, but this is permanent," Talia said calmly.

John sat back in the chair, letting out a slow breath. The pain was sharp, but it didn’t show on his face. He nodded once, more to himself than anyone else.

“That’s alright,” he said softly. “It’s better this way.”

Luna looked at him, uncertain, her body tense under the blanket. She didn’t know why, but something about his presence didn’t scare her. It confused her, sure, but there was no fear. Only a strange, quiet comfort.

“You’re safe here,” John said. “No one’s going to hurt you. You can rest. Eat. Heal.”

She hesitated, then slowly nodded.

Talia stepped closer and placed a glass of water on the bedside table. “Drink. Your body’s still adjusting. You’ll feel strange for a while.”

Luna reached for the glass and took a slow sip. Her hands trembled, but she held it together. She glanced at John again.

“You saved me?”

He didn’t smile. Just met her eyes with that calm, steady gaze.

“No. She did,” He pointed at Talia.

"Thank you," Luna said, looking at Talia before her gaze drifted to the window. “What happened before? I feel… empty.”

John looked away for a moment. The memories rushed back. The mine. The screams. The whip cracks. The blood on her face. The bullet. The cold weight of her in his arms. But he didn’t say any of it. Not a word.

“As I said, you got into an accident,” he said finally. “It’s over now. You don’t have to remember it. Just know that you’re safe.”

Luna nodded slowly, then leaned back against the pillows. She closed her eyes. Her breathing steadied. There were too many questions in her mind. Where did she come from? Does she have a family? What kind of relationship do they have with her? Why was her heart beating faster seeing that man smile? It was as if he was smiling for the first time in his life.

Talia stood silently for a while, then walked out, giving them space.

John remained at her side.

She didn’t remember the pain. The suffering. The broken fingers or the hunger, or the fear. She didn’t remember the people they buried or the fire pits or the laughter of guards. She didn’t remember the fight. But that was fine.

She was alive.

And that was enough.

Luna soon fell asleep. She was too tired.

John sat in silence, watching her sleep. His mind drifted to Kahndaq. He thought about the camps still full of broken souls. The guards were still walking freely, shouting orders and shooting anyone who hesitated. He thought about the one who’d shot her. About the others who stood by and laughed. Although they were all dead, what about those remaining bastards? What about the one at the top?

It was time to end it all...

No more unnecessary death or pain...

He stood and walked out of the room. Talia stood waiting in the hall, arms folded.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Kahndaq.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Revenge?”

“Doesn't matter... Revenge... Justice... Who cares? I'm just gonna kill those bastards,” John replied coldly.

“You’ll burn the whole place to the ground.”

John didn’t argue.

Talia smirked. “Just be sure you leave enough standing to rebuild.”

"Look after Luna. After her mind stabilizes, make a new ID for her and send her to Metropolis. Help her start a new life. That's all," John said before flying into the sky like a bullet.

...

[Khandaq]

That night, the sky above Kahndaq split open.

The clouds burned gold as a streak of lightning slammed into the heart of the capital. Windows shattered. Towers cracked. The streets lit up like the sun had fallen. People screamed. Alarms rang. But no one could stop what came next.

John Mason hit the ground outside the palace like a meteor. The shockwave blasted the front gates apart. Stone crumbled. Guards flew through the air like broken dolls. Dust and fire spiraled into the sky.

He didn’t slow down.

Two guards rushed him with rifles raised. Before they could speak, he crushed their skulls together with a single clap of his hands. Their helmets cracked. Blood sprayed. Their bodies dropped without a sound.

A third guard fired point-blank.

John didn’t flinch. The bullet hit his chest and flattened. He walked through it, grabbed the man by the throat, and slammed him into the wall hard enough to shatter both.

Inside the palace, panic spread like fire. Men shouted. Lights flickered. The intercom screamed for all units to converge.

They tried.

John ripped through the front line like wind through paper. Every guard who aimed a weapon died before pulling the trigger. Some exploded in lightning. Others went flying, bones snapping on impact. One begged. John didn’t even look at him. Just snapped his neck mid-step and moved on.

The halls were red with light and sirens.

He burned through the east wing.

A squad of ten waited in formation, shields raised, electrified batons charged. They didn’t last ten seconds. He blitzed them from the side, tore one shield in half, hurled it like a blade into another man’s chest, then sent three flying with a shockwave stomp that cracked the marble.

He kept walking.

More came. Rockets. Turrets. Sonic disruptors. None of it worked.

He flew through one hallway, dragging two guards by the legs, letting their heads bounce off walls until they went limp. He hurled them into a security door, blasting it open.

Inside, Asim Muhunnad waited.

Robes of gold. Body armor beneath. His eyes were wide.

He reached for a console. John appeared behind him, grabbed his wrist, and crushed it. Bones snapped like twigs.

Asim screamed.

John shoved him through the reinforced glass wall of his command room. They crashed into the courtyard below.

Blood streamed from Asim’s mouth as he crawled backward, coughing, sobbing.

“Wait! I can explain! I didn’t...”

John grabbed his throat and flew high up in the sky. 

John grabbed his throat and flew high up in the sky. He stopped when they were at the highest point, looking down at the city.

"No explanation will save your life. You have caused too much suffering in this world. Now you will pay," John said coldly, looking down at the struggling Asim.

The man's face turned red as he struggled to breathe, his hands gripping John's wrists with all his strength, trying to pry them off to no avail.

"Look down. I'm going to let go. Breathe as much air as you want. This will be your last breath," John said, tightening his grip on Asim's neck.

"Wait! Please! Mercy!" Asim choked out desperately.

But mercy was never an option.

John simply let him go.

"ARGGGGGGG!!" Asmin screamed at the top of his lungs as he fell, his body tumbling in the air. Forget breathing, he shat his pants out of fear.

Well, the scream lasted for a few seconds, followed by...

SPLAT!

He crashed onto the ground, right in front of the palace gate, painting the ground red. His body was a splattered meat and blood.

Next, John flew down. He walked through the central courtyard, slaughtering the last of the resistance. He grabbed a fleeing soldier and hurled him into a transport truck. The impact lit the engine on fire. It exploded seconds later, sending shockwaves through the plaza.

Another squad tried to escape through the north gate. He flew past them, stopped in midair, and raised both hands. Lightning erupted from the sky, dozens of bolts falling like a divine storm. The ground cracked. The men screamed. Then they were gone.

Inside the armory, soldiers hid behind blast doors. John ripped the door from its hinges, stepped in, and closed the door behind him.

Ten seconds later, it opened again. Only John stepped out. Blood soaked the floor behind him.

He left no one standing.

No heirs. No commanders. No architects of cruelty. He found the ones who ran the mines. The ones who ordered the executions. The ones who laughed at broken bodies and made bets on suffering.

He made sure they died last.

At dawn, the fires still burned.

The black tower of Asim’s reign cracked down the middle and fell in slow motion, collapsing into the earth like a dying titan.

John stood on the rubble, his eyes glowing faint gold in the smoke. Below, survivors crawled from bunkers and alleys, looking up at him in stunned silence.

Some wept.

Some just watched, unsure what they were seeing.

Freedom? A god?

Their savior from the old legends...

Within a few minutes, John was surrounded by the survivors and the city people who were just barely surviving.

Everyone fell to their knees and lowered their head.

John looked at them silently for a moment before speaking in a loud voice, "Today is the end of slavery in Kahndaq! There will be no more prisons! No more whips or chains! No more guards or masters! Any man, woman, or child found guilty of enslaving another will face judgment!"

The crowd looked up at him, their faces full of hope. There was not a single hint of fear.

"You are free now," he continued, "but it won't be easy. The path ahead will be hard. You must work together. Build a nation where everyone is treated with dignity and respect. You have suffered. You have endured. Now it's time to live. Live well. Live free."

With that, he flew into the sky, leaving the people to their new lives.

...

...

Metropolis. 2 Days Later.

Location: President’s Office. White House, East Wing, Situation Room.

The walls were lined with monitors. Every screen showed a different angle of destruction. Craters. Collapsed towers. Streets scorched with lightning. Drones buzzed through the wreckage, scanning heat signatures, picking through corpses.

Amanda Waller stood at the center of the room, arms folded, and she looked cold as usual. She wore her usual dark blue blazer, her ID badge clipped to her collar, but her expression made it clear she was the one running this room, not the President.

On the main screen, a satellite image zoomed in on the ruins of Kahndaq. The palace had become a crater. The black tower no longer existed. Dozens of heat signatures moved through the rubble... survivors, bowing before a man in a black suit.

The camera then froze on a single image: a gold-streaked blur in the sky. A man, mid-flight. Eyes glowing faintly. The lightning bolt on his chest was burning with power.

The room was dead silent.

"Play it again," Waller said.

A tech officer rewound the feed and hit play. The satellite footage replayed the fall of Asim Muhunnad. His body plummeted. Slammed into the stone. Blood splattered. The impact registered as a seismic event.

Someone in the back winced.

President Matthew Reed leaned forward, his palms flat on the desk. He looked pale.

"This is the man who took out an entire regime in one night?"

"Yes, sir," Waller said.

"He has powers like Superman?"

"We have analyzed his power with the limited information we currently possess. His strength level might be similar to Superman's. And according to our analyst, this one’s magic-based. That puts him in a different threat class entirely."

Reed looked at the screen again. "Is he on our side?"

Waller didn't answer immediately. Her silence was louder than any answer.

"Do we know his name?"

"No legal identity. No match in any registry. Origin unknown. Prior affiliations unknown. We’re still piecing it together."

"And Kahndaq?"

"Gone. He didn’t just overthrow the regime. He eradicated it. Wiped out their command structure, military forces, and black sites. Their entire intelligence network. All in less than an hour."

Another screen showed body bags being loaded into transport carriers. Hundreds. No survivors from the inner circle.

"He left civilians alive," Waller added. "Freed the prisoners. Gave a speech. Then left. He did what the Justice League and we couldn't for years. The people there now think of him as their God. That’s the only reason we’re not treating him as a global terrorist. But power like that, if left unchecked, could become a problem in the future."

"So what do you suggest?" The president asked.

"We must find his weakness and create a prison to hold him. Superman owes me a favor," Waller said as she looked at John's image. "Let him find out his weakness, and then we'll capture him. After that, we can interrogate him."

[Ironman] Ch: 89 [Proving worth]

[Location: Starfire Base – Sahara Desert, Cloaked Zone]

The boarding ramp lowered with a soft hiss, and a gust of warm desert air met them. But it wasn't the dry heat that made Susan stop at the top of the ramp.

It was the view.

Her breath caught.

What lay before her was so bizarre that for a moment she thought she was dreaming.

Walkways ran along transparent tunnels. Elevators glided along magnetized rails without wires. And everywhere, humanoid robots moved in perfect coordination. Some were tall and skeletal, built for heavy lifting. Others were smaller, designed for finesse tasks like welding, fitting, and analysis. 

And in the center of it all…

The Starfire ship.

Still in construction, but already massive. Half of its hull curved like a blade, the other half layered in open scaffolding where plating hadn't sealed the frame yet. It hovered in place, unsupported, held aloft by a web of gravity anchors and magnetic stasis fields that shimmered in soft blue arcs.

Susan stepped off the ramp slowly, eyes wide. "This… This is a science fiction novel with a billion-dollar budget."

Tony smirked. "More like a trillion, but who's counting?"

She turned slowly, taking it all in. Cloaking panels shimmered above them, active camouflage tech embedded into the domed ceiling, reflecting the desert sky with such precision that, from above, it was invisible. There were gravity lifts embedded into the floor, silent conveyor lines shifting massive materials with no wheels or rails.

Tony gestured casually. "The robots are called Hex Cores. Fully autonomous and zero-latency coordination. Some of them have better reflexes than I do."

Susan moved toward the railing and looked down as another platform ascended slowly, carrying a half-ton slab of alloy toward the ship's frame. "These robots are working in perfect sync. No noise. No downtime."

"No egos," Tony added, stepping beside her. "Everything runs off Hermes and Elena. The AIs coordinate task flow down to the microsecond. The only humans in this place are the ones I brought to do the things machines still can't."

"Like solve cosmic radiation mutation at a cellular level?" she said dryly.

Tony smiled. "Exactly. And the main engine that I'm working on, in person. But there's so much I can do alone, so it's taking some time."

They walked along the upper platform. The floor adjusted beneath their feet, sensing their gait, stabilizing each step with micro-thrusters in the panels. No stumbling. No imbalance.

"I don't even feel the slope," Susan muttered. "Is this a dynamic inertia compensator?"

Tony nodded. "Good catch. Keeps the balance stable. Pretty nifty, right?"

They passed a row of stasis tubes, translucent cylinders with humanoid test frames suspended in fields of blue light. Bio-suits. Pressure armor. Liquid nanite assemblies held in mid-form.

"This place is fifty years ahead of anything I've ever seen," Susan whispered. "Maybe more."

Tony stopped and gestured toward a large viewing window. Beyond it, the Starfire core glowed, bright white light humming from a central chamber where three rings spun around a floating prism of light.

"The heart of it all," Tony said quietly. "Synthetic graviton engine. Runs on a giant Arc Reactor. The closest thing we've got to FTL without folding ourselves into spaghetti. But still a work in progress."

Susan stared. "You building this... here?"

Tony glanced sideways at her. "It was either here, the moon, or underwater in a trench. The desert came with fewer fish and more sun."

She turned to him, arms crossed, her voice hushed with disbelief. "You really believe cosmic radiation holds the key to... what, human evolution?"

"In theory, yes. But we'll know once we go up there and test it out in person," Tony said casually.

Susan stood in silence for a few minutes, the soft hum of the reactor chamber pulsing beneath her boots like a second heartbeat. The glow from the graviton engine threw shifting patterns across her face, and for a moment, she let herself just feel the magnitude of what she was looking at.

This wasn’t a lab.

This wasn’t a simulation.

This wasn’t theory.

This was real. Living, breathing science, made practical by someone reckless enough to chase the future and smart enough to build it.

Her fingers gripped the railing tightly. She didn’t notice at first, but they were trembling.

Because deep down, under all the analysis, the equations, the sleepless nights writing genetic protocols and chasing flawed mutations... this was it. This was the edge.

The edge of what’s known. The place where science ends and everything after becomes a question nobody else has the guts to ask.

For months now, she'd been stuck in a loop. Study, test, fail, repeat. And every time she asked the institutions for help, they looked at her research like it was nothing but useless, too radical, too unconventional, too ambitious. They told her to narrow her scope. To think smaller.

And now here was Tony Stark, changing the very concept of sanity with his bare hands and asking her to go with him.

It scared her.

But not in the way most people would think.

It wasn't the ship or danger or the unknown.

What scared her was how much she wanted it.

How alive it made her feel just thinking about it.

She turned slowly from the viewing window and looked at Tony. He was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, waiting... not pushing, or persuading. Just waiting. Like he already knew what she was going to say.

She stepped closer.

“I’ve spent my whole life looking for answers,” she said quietly. “Trying to fix what people say can’t be fixed. Trying to give people a way out when the world tells them to just live with the hand they’re dealt.”

Tony didn’t say anything. He just watched her, eyes steady.

Susan looked up at the massive ship once more. The blue light reflected off her glasses. “But every time I get close, the door slams shut. Not enough data. Not enough funding. Not enough time. But this... this is past the door. This is what’s next.”

She exhaled slowly. Then looked back at him.

“I’m in.”

Tony’s lips tugged into a slow smile. “Good.”

“But,” she added, raising a finger. “I want full lab access. Total genomic autonomy. And I want two more people in the team.”

“Wow,” he said without blinking. “Anything else?”

Susan nodded. “One more thing.”

She stepped closer.

“No surprises. I want to know everything. Every test. Every risk. I’m not walking into a suicide mission, and I’m not going to let you fly half-broken because your ego didn’t want to share data.”

Tony gave a soft chuckle. “We just met today, and you want all access. Haha. Very well, you want access, you gotta earn it. I showed what I can do, now your turn... I will give you resources and everything you need. So, show me what you can do in such a short time... in the upcoming Expo. Create something groundbreaking..." 

"It'd take a huge sum of money and tech, you sure about that?" She asked. Her heart was hammering at this point. If she can get money and technology, maybe a better lab, then she should be able to complete the mutant cure. 

"And?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Why trust me? Don't get me wrong, everything so far was like a dream. But as you said, we just met today. So, why the trust?" She asked.

"Think of it as an instinct. Like, I can trust you," He took a step forward and looked into her eyes. "As for whether I am right or wrong, we'll know soon enough."

"Ok. Alright. Yeah, I can do it," Sue took a deep breath. "Can I get a pen and paper? You know, to make a list of things I need."

...

[Location: Susan Storm’s Private Lab – New York]
[Time: 9:27 PM – Same Day]

Susan walked through her lab door, half-expecting things to be as cluttered and half-dead as she left them: burnt-out equipment, low storage alerts, and three-day-old coffee mugs still clinging to the edge of her desk.

What she got instead?

A miracle.

She stopped cold, mouth parting slightly.

Everything had changed.

The old desk was gone. In its place stood a sleek, custom lab bench etched with her initials and integrated with a fully interactive light-reactive display panel. The holographic table she’d been scraping together with duct tape and a secondhand projector? Replaced by a full StarkTech OmniFrame capable of perfect gene modeling and environmental simulation rendering.

The storage wall was restocked. Cryo-chambers. Enzyme freezers. Three new analyzers she hadn’t dared dream about owning. Bio-scanners lined up on a rail that adjusted to her height when she stepped closer. And a completely new chemical synthesizer.

Top of the line.

Proprietary Stark design.

She reached out and ran her fingers across the polished edge of the counter.

"Freakin' hell! This is like a dream workshop," Sue jumped up once in happiness, with a large smile.

She once again took a look around.

Three custom-sequenced viral delivery systems

Two vials of inert X-Gene scaffolding serum

A reinforced containment chamber

Molecular rewriter prototype (Gen V)

Two AI-assisted genetic simulators

A private Stark cloud node link

Plus six crates of lab consumables, untouched and sealed

The upgrade of so real.

Then she walked toward the main computer and started it. She typed the password. The system greeted her by name as usual. It was just an early version of AI she created. But now, it looked like an upgraded version.

'Did he upgrade the AI too?' She wondered. 'Well, whatever. As long as I get to create the cure.'

> Welcome, Dr. Susan Storm. Project Access: VERIFIED. Full permissions unlocked.
> Custom Research Suite: RECODE - ONLINE.

She pulled up her notes. Then the genome models. Then she opened her old trial logs and within seconds, the system converted them into an upgraded rendering format that highlighted previously undetected mutation shifts in red and instability markers in violet. Her failure rates had been caused by low-level protein stack mismatches in nearly all versions.

She wouldn’t have found that for months. Maybe never.

But now?

Now she had a shot.

Susan dropped into the stool, slid her gloves on, and activated the bio-printer. “Alright,” she whispered. “Let’s work.”

She started fast, her mind already sketching out changes. The protein binders needed reinforcement. Carbon-lattice scaffolding was now possible with the new hardware. She began adjusting the base sequence, adding a redundancy buffer, and testing new simulations in parallel.

Her new AI assistant, built into the system, began rendering outcomes as she worked.

The interface glowed with synchronized speed.

**> TRIAL 142: 68% stability.

TRIAL 143: 81% stability.
TRIAL 144: 89% stability – neural harmony confirmed.**

Her hand shook slightly.

She laughed. A short, sharp sound that was half disbelief, half adrenaline.

She adjusted a final nucleotide pair in the recombination strand.

“Run it again.”

It ran again. Still stable.

“Cross-test against the neuromutation cluster from Trial 122.”

Still stable.

She backed away, breath catching in her throat.

It was working.

It was actually working.

The binder she’d theorized months ago, the one everyone dismissed as ‘theoretical noise’, was holding. And not only that, the Stark-enhanced systems were accelerating the simulations tenfold. What used to take days and sometimes weeks now takes five minutes.

...

AN: Next time to create some armor. Maybe mecha.

[Ironman] Ch: 88 [A big chance for Susan]

Tony leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, voice calm, and he had that signature smile.

"Why? You don't want to?"

Susan blinked, thrown slightly by the bluntness of the question.

Tony didn’t wait for her to answer. His eyes were steady, his voice quieter now.

"We're going to be the first in human history to get that close to the sun. Not just orbit it, not just wave from a satellite. I’m talking proximity deep enough to study raw cosmic radiation at its source. Not the filtered kind that slips through our atmosphere, but the real thing. The kind that shaped stars. The kind that might have shaped us."

He let that hang for a moment.

"And up there, anything can happen. Maybe the containment systems fail. Maybe some radiation breaches the shield. Maybe someone gets exposed. I’m not betting on ‘maybe it’ll be fine’ when we’re outside Earth’s safety net. I need someone who understands what happens to the human body when it's pushed past nature’s limit. Someone who’s already thinking about how to stop cellular decay before it starts. Someone who’s not afraid to look at a genetic anomaly and ask, 'What can we do about it?'"

Susan leaned back slightly, arms folded. The wind picked up just enough to tug at her collar, but she didn’t break eye contact.

"And you think that someone’s me?"

Tony gave a slow nod.

"I know it's you. You didn’t just study this stuff. You chased it down when everyone else was busy chasing glory. You didn’t do it for money or recognition. You did it because you actually gave a damn. That matters more than anything else. I know everything you've chased so far... That's why I chose you for this mission."

He continued.

"I’ve got engineers, physicists, pilots, and AI running half the systems. What I don’t have is someone with your instincts. Someone who can look at a problem with a human body in zero gravity, under stress, maybe even mutated, and find the thread that keeps them alive. That's why I want you with us. Not behind a desk or reading lab reports from home. Up there. Front lines. Because if something goes wrong, I don’t want the second-best person on this planet guessing what to do."

Susan didn’t answer right away.

She looked out over the edge of the rooftop. The city stretched out beneath them, alive and moving, but small compared to what he was talking about. Space. The edge of the sun. Radiation that could tear atoms apart. And a ship called Starfire being built to meet it head-on.

She glanced back at him. Tony wasn’t grinning anymore. This wasn’t a stunt or a vanity project. He was serious. And he trusted her.

"I’ll think about it," she said finally.

Tony nodded, "It's a big decision. Take your time. And if you want to visit the site, just let me know."

The waiter arrived right on cue, placing their dishes on the table with quiet precision. Grilled salmon for Susan, a pepper-seared chicken bowl for Tony. The scent of citrus glaze and roasted herbs filled the air as the city’s sounds faded behind the subtle ambiance of the rooftop.

Susan picked up her fork and gave Tony a quick side glance.

“You always spring space missions on people before lunch?”

Tony grinned as he sliced into his chicken. “Only when the person I’m asking might save all our lives.”

She shook her head, half amused, half still processing. “You really don’t know how to ease into things, do you?”

“I find small talk highly overrated,” Tony said, chewing thoughtfully. “Besides, there are only so many ways to say ‘your research saved a bunch of people from spontaneous combustion’ before it gets weird.”

Susan arched an eyebrow. “And here I was hoping this was just a casual power lunch.”

Tony raised his glass. “Casual power lunch… with a side of existential science and future space drama.”

They ate for a while in companionable silence. Susan couldn’t help noticing that Tony didn’t rush anything. He wasn’t performing. No ego games. Just… present. Focused. Still carrying the weight of something unspoken, but hiding it under sharp edges and wit.

“So the Expo,” she said between bites. “Big show, huh?”

Tony leaned back slightly. “Bigger than ever. But not in the usual fireworks-and-dancers way. This time, it’s real. Real projects, real scientists. No celebrity fluff pieces. I want to put people like you at the front.”

Susan looked genuinely surprised. “You’re planning to put research front and center?”

“Research, ethics, people. The whole structure of the scientific world has been skewed by corporate bidding. We fix that by showing the public what science can actually do, when it’s not bought.”

She smiled. “So you’re reforming the world while building a spaceship.”

Tony lifted his glass again. “Multitasking.”

They clinked glasses. Just water and fizz, but it felt like more than a toast.

As they finished the last of their meal, Tony pushed his plate aside and looked at her, that glint back in his eye.

“So… want to see where Starfire’s being built?”

Susan blinked.

“Wait. Like… now?” She asked in shock. Everything was happening too fast for her to digest.

"Uummm... Yeah," He nodded. “Unless you’ve got other plans. Brunch with human biology? Afternoon yoga?”

She grinned, catching the mood. “I have a meeting with a protein analysis at three, but it’s flaky. Might not show.”

Tony stood, sliding his jacket over one shoulder. “Then let’s go. I’ve got a ship standing by.”

Susan grabbed her bag, adjusting her blazer. “I didn’t bring anything.”

“You won’t need anything,” Tony said as they stepped toward the elevator. “You’re with me.”

She glanced sideways at him as the elevator doors opened.

“This is your version of a second date?”

Tony looked at her with that same signature smile. “Only if we survive the sun together.”

...

[Location: Private Stark Airstrip – Outside Manhattan]
[Time: 3:15 PM]

The car pulled through a private gate just outside the city, winding past layers of automated security and clean, empty tarmac. Susan had expected a simple jet or a helicopter.

What she got was not familiar.

Her eyes widened as they came to a slow stop.

In the middle of the runway sat a craft that didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen, not in the military, not in aerospace journals, not even in concept leaks.

It was matte-black, almost bone-white in certain angles, depending on how the light hit it. Seamless hull. No visible engines. The wings weren’t really wings; they were curved blades of alloy that pulsed faintly at the edges, like they were folding space rather than pushing through it.

The Stark logo was there, subtle and almost invisible.

Susan stepped out slowly, eyes scanning the craft. “Is that a… plane?”

Tony walked ahead, backpack slung casually over one shoulder. “Technically? It’s a Variable-Vector Atmospheric Orbiter with Grav-Null repulsors and a dual-mode arc engine. All running on a clean energy source.”

She gave him a flat look. “So… a plane.”

He smirked over his shoulder. “A very cool plane.”

They walked up the fold-down ramp. The interior was just as matte white with soft white lighting, curved alloy walls, and a cockpit interface that looked more like a command center than a pilot’s seat. No switches. Just hard-light projections, motion recognition, and two flight chairs.

Tony gestured toward one. “Pick your seat. Pilot or co-pilot. Either way, you’ll feel cooler than you should.”

Susan hesitated for a second, then dropped into the co-pilot’s seat, fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the console. It responded instantly, lighting up and syncing to her vitals.

“Welcome, Sir…” Hermes’ voice echoed softly. "It would seem you have a guest."

"Yup! Susan Storm. She might be joining us soon. Well, set the course to our desert base," Tony ordered.

"Affirmative," Hermes replied.

“AI?" She asked.

"Yeah," Tony said as he leaned back on his seat. The engines didn’t roar. They hummed, barely audible. The entire plane lifted without a single tremble.

Susan’s eyes widened again. “No turbulence?”

“No atmosphere drag,” Tony said. “Grav-null tech. We’re gliding on a synthetic gravity channel until we’re clear of standard flight lanes.”

The jet angled upward, slicing through clouds like they were fog.

As the city fell away behind them, Susan looked out the side view.

The sky darkened into a deep blue.

She leaned back in her seat and said, almost to herself, “This doesn’t feel real.”

Tony glanced over. “Neither did you saying yes.”

She gave him a look. “I didn’t say yes.”

“You got in the plane.”

“I said maybe.”

“You buckled your seatbelt.”

“I’m considering.”

Tony grinned, leaned back, and let the AI take over. “That’s closer than most people ever get.”

[Three Hours Later – Above the Sahara Desert]

Susan sat forward in her seat, watching the terrain change. Then her eyes narrowed.

“Wait… what’s that?”

Below, the ground was shifting.

Not sand.

Metal. 

Distorting surroundings.

Flat panels of alloy and steel stretched out, disappearing into cliffs and craters. A massive complex. Geometric. Clean. Not a single light visible from the sky.

“It’s cloaked,” Tony said. “You wouldn’t see it on satellite. You wouldn’t hear it on radar. But it’s real.”

As they descended, towers shifted from the sand... antenna arrays, energy dispersal units, kinetic dampeners. The jet gently set down on an invisible platform, its grav-locks engaging with a click.

[Ironman] Ch: 87 [Tony & Susan Storm]

[Location: New York – Susan Storm’s Private Lab]
[Time: 11:41 AM – One Week Later]

The low hum of lab equipment filled the room. Screens cast a light blue glow over walls cluttered with sketches, samples, and half-drained coffee mugs. Susan Storm stood in the center of it all, sleeves rolled up, hands gloved, eyes focused.

She adjusted the microscope, leaned in, and frowned. Another trial, another flawed reaction. The serum hadn’t stabilized. Again.

She stepped back and dragged a holographic interface toward her. The genetic model rotated, showing her the familiar spiral of DNA, the mutant strain she’d been working with for months now. Mutated at the chromosomal level. Too volatile. Too embedded.

Susan pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, then tapped a few keys, pulling up previous test results.

Trial 139: Organ rejection.
Trial 140: Neural degradation.
Trial 141: Partial success, then cellular collapse.

She clenched her jaw.

She wasn’t trying to erase anyone. That was never the goal. She didn’t see mutation as a disease. But the truth was, some people were suffering because of their powers... trapped in bodies that betrayed them, turned into walking targets, or left isolated by the way they looked.

They weren’t soldiers or criminals. Just people. And not all of them wanted to be “special.”

Mutant rights activists told them to embrace their identity. Xavier’s camp preached harmony. Magneto wanted power.

But what about those who just wanted normal?

A boy whose bones wouldn’t stop growing through his skin. A girl whose touch caused internal bleeding. A man whose voice ruptured eardrums if he so much as whispered.

No school could fix that. No speech could change how the world looked at them.

Susan brought up her primary project file: RECODE. The serum was still theoretically unstable, inconsistent, and dangerous in its current state. But it was getting there. Slowly.

She turned toward the sample freezer and pulled out a fresh vial. The latest formula. Slightly different protein binders. A tighter sequence control.

She walked back to the testing chamber, placed the vial in the analyzer, and initiated the simulation.

A digital readout scrolled quickly.

60% stability.
65%.
71%.
Then a spike... cell degradation.

Failure.

Susan swore under her breath. She shut it down and leaned back against the desk, rubbing her temples.

She was close. Too close to give up now.

Outside, the faint sounds of New York filtered through the lab’s walls. The usual traffic, sirens, the steady rhythm of a city that never slept. But in here, it was just her, a few AI assistants running basic routines, and the mounting weight of expectations.

No press. No funding. No corporate sponsors. Just one woman chasing a cure no one asked for, but that some desperately needed.

She stared at the screen again for a moment before she walked over to her whiteboard, still covered in scribbles from the night before, and added a single word:

CHOICE.

She capped the marker, exhaled slowly, and was about to turn back to the simulation logs when her tablet chimed.

New message.

She tapped it without thinking, expecting another automated test update or a ping from Johnny asking for lunch money again. But the sender made her pause.

Tony Stark
Subject: Lunch? And a little something important.

Her brow furrowed as she opened it.

...

Dr. Susan Storm,

Hope this finds you in one piece and not buried under caffeine and simulation failures.

I’ve followed your published work with interest, and I was especially impressed with your article on the genetic research on incurable diseases and super protein bars for athletics. Elegant stuff. You've got a sharp mind, and I think you're the kind of person who might appreciate a conversation about something a little bigger than lab work.

How about lunch? Somewhere quiet, no press, no buzz. Just food and a discussion, I think you’ll want to hear.

If you’re free, I’ll send the coordinates.

—Tony Stark

...

Susan stared at the screen for a long moment, rereading it twice. There was nothing invasive in the tone. No arrogance, no assumption. Just curiosity. Respect, even.

And Stark himself, the man behind the holographic system now running the world’s economy and academia, wanted to talk to her.

She let out a quiet breath and walked to her window, eyes flicking across the city skyline. She wasn’t the type to get starstruck, but she wasn’t stupid either. This was big. And it wasn’t just about tech or science, it was about being seen by someone who actually understood what she was trying to do. 

Most of the researchers made fun of her articles. She has no funding and is running on her father's money and a little bit of what she gets from the sales of the protein bars. Now, when someone actually praised her, well, she was definitely gonna meet him.

A smile tugged at the edge of her mouth.

She picked up her tablet and replied:

Count me in. Let me know where.

She hit send, then leaned back in her chair, feeling the tension ease from her shoulders for the first time in weeks.

Finally, a real conversation.

...

[Location: Manhattan – The Ember Atrium, Rooftop Restaurant]
[Time: 1:30 PM]

The Ember Atrium, a rooftop restaurant tucked away above a boutique hotel in Lower Manhattan. It wasn’t a place that showed up on tourist guides. No neon signs, no photos on walls. Just clean stone tables, soft instrumental jazz, and a view of the skyline that made the city feel quiet for once.

Tony sat at a table near the far corner, dressed in a dark blazer over a simple black t-shirt, sunglasses on the side of the table. He took the glass of apple fizz and took a sip before putting it back.

Susan stepped inside wearing a clean, fitted navy blazer over a black turtleneck and dark jeans. Her hair was tied in a simple bun, and she was wearing glasses. Simple. Smart. She scanned the space once, found him instantly. 

Tony noticed that she was wearing makeup, and a nice scent of jasmine perfume came from her. And she was so beautiful that Tony's heart skipped a beat or two. Seeing her on photo and real life, well... Real life version wins.

Tony stood as she approached.

“Susan Storm,” he said, offering his hand with a relaxed smile. “Or do you prefer Doctor?”

“Depends,” she replied, shaking it. “Are you trying to flirt or hire me?”

Tony chuckled. “Neither. First meeting. I try not to make moves on people I might need to work with later. It’s messy.”

“Noted,” she said, sliding into the chair across from him. She glanced at the folder on the table. “You brought homework.”

“Light reading,” he said. “Mostly yours. Some of it was buried so deep I thought I’d need a shovel. Impressive work.”

'Dang! He is handsome,' Susan raised an eyebrow. “I thought only angry forum trolls and dusty tenure boards read those.”

“I’m not dusty,” Tony said, flagging down a server. “And I don’t troll. Well, maybe recreationally.”

The server poured water into their glasses and took their orders. Susan asked for a grilled salmon bowl, and Tony ordered whatever looked the least like rabbit food.

As the server disappeared, Tony leaned forward slightly.

“I’ll get straight to it,” he said. “I’m building something. Bigger. Space, biology, interface systems, genetics. Stuff that requires people who know how to walk into unknowns without falling apart.”

Susan folded her arms. “You do realize I’m a one-person lab operation.”

“I also realize that you built your entire protein-binder model off a junk budget and a box of borrowed servers from Empire State University. Which makes you exactly the kind of person I trust. Someone who doesn’t need ten grant committees and a Tesla coil to get things done.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly. “What are you working on?”

Tony opened his palm before her. The nanites flowed out from his wristwatch, forming a smart glass. Sue was taken by surprise. 

"Nanomachine?!" She nearly raised her voice and was about to stand up, but quickly gathered herself.

"Yep! Put it on."

Susan took and slipped on the smart glass slowly, uncertain at first, then froze.

Her pupils dilated slightly as the world around her shifted. The entire rooftop dissolved into a digital horizon. She was no longer sitting at a restaurant but standing in the middle of a vast hangar suspended in orbit over a virtual planet. Below her, steel beams rose like growing branches. Massive ship scaffolds, raw alloy plating, drones weaving support struts together like ants on a nest.

Lines of live data floated beside her... structural integrity charts, radiation mapping, nanite logistics, atmospheric pressure readings, all moving in real-time. A thin golden path traced itself along a long corridor of the structure marked: Starfire – Phase 1.

“What... is this?” she whispered.

Tony’s voice echoed slightly inside the virtual space beside her, relaxed but focused.

“Starfire. The first manned, private deep-space vessel. It's being built right now. I made it to study cosmic radiation directly, close to the sources that shape evolution... black holes, supernovas, ambient stellar fields.”

Another window opened beside her, a rotating strand of double-helix DNA overlaid with cosmic energy patterns. The coils shifted with each pass, changing color and shape, reacting as bursts of radiation interacted with them.

“I’ve already built detectors for high-band cosmic energy. The kind that warps atomic behavior. The stuff that doesn’t just burn... it rewrites. And if it rewrites the right way...”

The screen shifted again. Three projections appeared. Each one showed a simulation:

In the first, a human cell disintegrated under raw gamma exposure.

In the second, a violent and unstable cellular mutation.

But in the third… the cell adapted. Regenerated. Enhanced neural activity. Stabilized molecular vibration. Even resistance to entropy over time.

“Cosmic evolution,” Tony said. “Or at least, the potential for it.”

Susan reached up slowly and rotated the helix with her hand. The system responded instantly, like touching real glass. She zoomed in, saw proteins bond under impossible pressure, then replicate.

“This is impossible,” she muttered. “This shouldn’t be happening. Even latent mutations can’t absorb that kind of radiation without complete denaturation.”

Tony nodded. “Exactly. That’s where I need your brain. You are one of the best in the field of bio-chemical sciences... No. You are the best. Help me find a solution. Because we are going to space to study cosmic radiation, and anything can happen out there. I want us to be prepared for everything."

"Huh?! Wow! Wait a sec..." Sue took off the glasses. "Us?"

[SHAZAM] Ch: 4 [Into the Pit]

AN: I think I kinda went a little fast paced with this one.

===

The mountains were cold. Fog covered the surroundings. John flew through the clouds, the wind cutting around him like knives. He held Luna close, wrapped in his cape. She felt lighter than ever. Too light. He couldn't stop thinking about the hole in her forehead.

She didn't deserve this.

The GPS from Bruce blinked steadily. He followed it through snow-covered peaks until the signal turned green.

The city revealed itself slowly, like a ghost. Hidden in the mist, built into the cliffs. John landed just outside the gate, dust and gravel exploding under his boots. He walked forward with Luna in his arms, his eyes locked on the temple doors.

Two assassins stood guard. They drew their swords without a word. Figures dropped from the rooftops. From behind columns. From the trees above. Dozens of assassins in black robes surrounded him, blades drawn, eyes locked.

John didn't want a fight. Not now.

"I'm not here to kill anyone," he said. "I need Ra's al Ghul."

The assassins didn't care. They attacked.

John ducked the first strike. Stepped left. Moved faster than they could follow. He dodged a bunch of daggers and...

Clank! 

A sword struck his neck. He didn't move, and the sword failed to cut through his flesh. Even the poison on the blade didn't even leave a scratch on his body.

"Wait," John said. "I'm not your enemy. I just want to talk. Don't make me repeat myself."

One assassin rushed forward.

John stepped back.

Another came from the right, sword raised.

Something inside him snapped when the blade came too close to Luna’s face.

"ENOUGH!" He shouted.

A flash of gold lightning burst out from his chest. It exploded outward in every direction. A wave of power rippled through the courtyard.

The assassins dropped their weapons and fell to the ground, stunned. Some were twitching. Others groaned. None were dead.

John stood in the center of it all, breathing heavily.

“Stop.”

A voice came from the temple gate. 

It opened with a loud creak...

An older man walked forward. Long black hair with white streaks, green eyes, and hands behind his back. He looked too calm even after witnessing John's power.

Ra’s al Ghul.

Beside him walked a woman with green eyes and brown hair. She was wearing a black ninja outfit.

Talia al Ghul.

They stopped at the edge of the stunned soldiers.

Ra’s looked down at them, then at John.

Ra’s raised a hand. The rest of the assassins stopped moving. “You came with force. That means you are desperate.”

John said nothing. He looked at Talia, then back at Ra’s.

Ra’s stepped closer. “We know what you did in Kahndaq. That kind of power doesn’t go unnoticed. You could level this mountain if we fought. But you didn’t kill my men. That says something.”

"You know what happened there?" John asked.

"We have eyes and ears everywhere," Ra's replied.

John vanished in a blur of speed and reappeared right in front of Ra’s. Their faces were inches apart.

Ra’s didn’t flinch.

John’s voice was low, calm, and deadly serious. “Take me to the Pit.”

Ra’s al Ghul studied John in silence, his eyes calculating. He looked down at Luna’s lifeless body cradled in John’s arms. The red smear across her forehead. The way her hand still curled like it had been reaching for something before death took her.

“You understand what the Lazarus Pit does, don’t you?” Ra’s asked quietly.

John’s jaw tightened. “It brings people back.”

Ra’s nodded once. “Yes. But not as they were. Resurrection is not a gift. It is a curse wrapped in a second chance.”

John didn’t move.

Ra’s walked slowly toward the edge of the courtyard. The stone path curved down to a lower chamber, hidden beneath the temple. He gestured for John to follow.

“The Pit restores life, but it takes something in return. Memories twist. Emotions fracture. Souls scream through the flesh. Some return with madness. Others return with... hunger. The girl you carry might not remember you. She might not remember herself. You must be ready to lose her all over again.”

“I’ll take that chance,” John said.

Talia stepped forward now. Her eyes were on Luna, not John.

“She fought for something, didn’t she?”

John nodded. “She believed someone would come back for us. That someone would tear down the walls.”

Talia looked at her father.

Ra’s sighed.

“Very well. But once this is done, you are in our debt.”

"Debt?" John stopped and looked at Ra's. His eyes were sparkling with lightning. He read it in one of the comics series about how Ra's  "You think I don't know you plan? You manipulated those bastards by giving them the information on the hidden treasure underneath. You knew very well that an internal conflict would break out, and slowly their lust for power and treasure would destroy Kahndaq. And when they are at their weakest point, you'll eradicate the entire city, including the civilians." 

He grabbed Ra's throat and pulled him up in the air with his left hand.

"Which means, Luna would have died had I not gained this power..." 

"Kuggg!" Ra's struggled against John's grasp. Even his enhanced strength, which he gained from the pit, was nothing before the solid grasp that was slowly squeezing out his life. 

"And you dare talk about debt?" John pulled him close and looked into his eyes. 

Ra’s clawed at John’s arm, veins bulging in his neck as his feet dangled inches off the stone. His calm mask cracked for the first time in years. Surprise. Panic. Rage. It all flickered across his face.

Talia stepped forward. Her hand twitched toward the blade on her hip. The assassins around them were about to use bombs. 

“Move, and I'll snap his neck,” John said without even glancing at her.

She stopped and raised an arm, signaling the assassins to stop.

John stared into Ra’s eyes. “You’ve spent centuries pretending your war is about balance, but it’s always been about power. Kahndaq burned because you let it. Because you fed them lies, let them tear each other apart, and planned to swoop in once the bodies cooled.”

Ra’s gasped, his voice barely a whisper. “You… know nothing…”

“I know enough,” John growled. “I saw what your silence cost. I carried her body through the pit of your design. You didn’t forge balance. You let monsters grow in the dark and called it strategy.”

Ra’s looked at Talia, eyes pleading now.

John turned to her. “He’s old. He’s smart. But he’s blind. You see it, don’t you?”

Talia’s eyes flicked between them. For the first time, she hesitated. No loyalty in her stance now. Only questions.

“Your father’s not building a better world. He’s hoarding a broken one. He talks about saving Earth while feeding it to the fire. That’s not leadership. That’s ego.”

John lowered Ra’s slowly until the man’s boots touched the ground. He didn’t release the grip on his throat.

“Talia. You can take the League somewhere else. Somewhere new. You don’t need to be your father’s shadow.”

Ra’s opened his mouth to protest, but John tightened his grip again.

“This is your chance,” John said to her. “Not just to rule. To change the League. Make it about purpose. Not manipulation.”

Talia stepped closer. She looked into her father’s eyes, and for once, she saw what she had spent years ignoring. Fear. Weakness. A hunger for control that had devoured his cause.

"Ta...lia... kuggg!" Ra's struggled.

Stab! 

Warm blood gushed out of Ra's stomach. 

Talia slashed it open in the blink of an eye. All his intestines and organs splattered onto the ground, creating a bloody mess. John snapped his neck at the same time. 

Ra's dead.

But John decided to make sure he stays that way. So, he summoned a blast of lightning from his hand, overheating and turning the Ra's body to ashes.

"Let's go," Talia said, walking past John toward the dungeon like area.

John followed her down the stone steps, the air growing colder with each level. The torches lining the walls flickered in their brackets, casting long shadows across the narrow path. Luna's body was still in his arms, cradled gently against his chest. Her skin was pale. Her weight felt like a memory.

He glanced at Talia, walking ahead with blood still dripping from her blade.

"You killed your own father," John said quietly. "Why? Because I said a few words?"

Talia didn’t look back. Her voice was steady, but something deeper stirred beneath it. Regret, maybe. Or clarity.

"No. Not because of your words. Because they were true. And Nyssa and I have been plotting to kill him for years. We even turned his own guards against him, but that man killed them all, and Nyssa took the fall. He severed her arms, made her blind, and threw her into the dungeon. He was too strong. I couldn't do anything back then. But... Thanks to you, I'll be able to save my sister."

'Well, that's some messed up shit. But one less scum,' John thought.

She paused at a large stone door and pressed her hand against a carved seal. It glowed faint green and groaned as it slid open, revealing a chamber lit by eerie blue fire.

Talia looked back and noticed John's curious eyes, so she decided to tell a little bit about Ra's. Why? Why not? The more they talk, the more she'd find out about him and his character because right now she was running blind without any idea of his real power. She needs information, and the best way to get information is to talk and make friends. She was pretty confident about her beauty and manipulation skills.

"You see, my father hasn't been Ra's al Ghul for a long time," she said as she stepped inside. "He stopped seeking balance years ago. He only wanted control. Even over death."

John stepped into the room behind her. The Lazarus Pit bubbled in the center like a living wound. The surface shimmered, glowing faintly with an unnatural light. The air was slightly metallic and cold. It felt ancient. Alive. 

Talia looked at the water.

"I watched him use this Pit too many times. Each time he came back less human. More obsessed. More cruel. At some point, I realized he didn’t care about saving the world. He just wanted to be the last man standing when it crumbled."

She turned to John.

"Anyway, it was just a matter of opportunity, nothing more."

John didn’t respond right away. He walked toward the edge of the Pit and looked down. Ripples moved across the surface even though nothing touched it.

"Can this really bring her back?"

Talia nodded. "Yes. But you have to be ready. If she comes back wrong..."

"She won't," John said.

Talia raised an eyebrow. "You sound sure."

John looked at Luna's face. He brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead.

"Because I know her. Whatever this Pit does to her… she’ll fight it. She’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. And if she forgets me, it's for the better. I wouldn't want her to remember all those cruel memories and sufferings."

Talia didn’t argue. She just stepped aside and gestured toward the water.

'So, she's his weakness, huh? Interesting.' Talia thought. 'Going so far for a girl... I wonder...'

John took a breath. Then another. He stepped forward and lowered Luna’s body into the Pit.

The water hissed.

[Vol-3] [Ironman] Ch: 86 [Time Skip]

AN: Slightly fast paced. I've explained the necessary things that took place during the skip and kept it tight.

---

[Year: 1991 – 6 Months Later]

Six months had passed since the world changed.

After Tony Stark and the Shadow Legion exposed corruption and tore down the rotten core of global systems, chaos followed. Governments fell. Secrets came to light. For four long months, nations scrambled to rebuild.

But things eventually settled.

A new system was formed. One that was less controlled by hidden hands and more open to progress, peace, and truth. Fury took this chance to place his men inside the system. 

During this time, Howard and Maria Stark quietly took the perfected Super Soldier Serum that Tony created. Their bodies rejuvenated. They looked and felt like they were 25 again. Stronger, sharper, and ready to stand beside their son in the new era they helped spark.

It created quite some confusion among the people and Stark Industries since it ain't every day one sees an old couple gaining their youth. He called it a lab accident and the effect of some mixed-up chemicals. 

Then, the news of Steve Rogers has been kept under the radar. Fury knows about him, and so he deployed some agents to keep an eye on him from a distance. 

As for Tony, he did some things... Created some things... We'll come to that in a bit. [Next Chapter]

Next was the Stark Expo.

Howard Stark made an announcement:

"The Stark Expo will return. Two months from now. New York City. A celebration of progress, peace, and the minds shaping our future."

Special invitations were sent to scientists, inventors, and visionaries. Not just celebrities of science, but the quiet geniuses working in labs, universities, bunkers, and even bedrooms. Tony even found some rare minds thanks to his vast network and three AIs. He won't just let talent rot in some dump.

...

[Location: Susan Storm's Apartment]

Susan Storm sat at her desk, surrounded by papers, coffee mugs, and a holographic screen displaying her latest control system simulation. Her fingers moved fast across the keys. The system was perfect.

Ever since Tony Stark released the holographic computer to the public last month, it has killed the old market. Who wouldn't buy them for 30% less price of the latest PC hardware and a better futuristic interface? Easy to carry, doesn't weigh much, has all the necessary hardware in a simple tablet or a laptop-sized device, depending on the model.

It was like Tony's name spread throughout the world with just a single move, just before the Expo. What a coincidence, right?

A soft ding broke the silence. Her inbox flashed.

Subject: Invitation to the Stark Expo 

Sender: Tony Stark

Priority: High

Susan raised an eyebrow. She opened the email and read it. Slowly, then again. Her eyes widened.

She turned in her chair, calling out, "Johnny!"

From the next room, her younger brother's voice replied, "What?"

"Get your lazy ass in here. Now."

Johnny stumbled into the room with a protein shake in hand, wearing sunglasses and pajama pants. He had some fun last night with a couple of girls in his custom-made new car. The girls just left a few hours ago.

"You won't believe this," Susan said, handing him her tablet.

Johnny read the message, his jaw slowly dropping. "No freaking way."

She nodded. "It's real. We're invited to the Stark Expo. VIP access. Full accommodations. He even referenced one of my old papers from MIT. How did he even find that?"

Johnny grinned. "It's Tony Stark. He probably has AI reading everyone's brainwaves."

Susan rolled her eyes. "This isn't a joke, Johnny. This is big."

He flopped onto the couch. "I know. You think Ben got one too?"

Susan didn't answer. She was already typing a message to Ben.

[Location: Brooklyn – Ben Grimm's Workshop]

Ben wiped sweat from his forehead as he stood over an engine block. His work gloves were covered in grease. The smell of fuel and hot metal filled the air.

His phone buzzed on the bench.

Message from Susan: Check your email. Like, now.

"What did Johnny do again?" He grunted, dropping his tools and reaching for his phone. A moment later, he was staring at the same email.

Ben let out a low whistle. "Well, I'll be damned."

[Location: Xavier Institute – Library]

Hank McCoy sat at a long wooden table, flipping through a thick volume on mutant biology. His glasses slipped a bit as he reached for his tea.

The sound of a new email came from his tablet.

He took the tablet, read the email, and froze.

"Well," he muttered, "Looks like I'm going to New York."

[Location: Various Labs, Universities, and Safehouses]

Across the country and beyond, brilliant minds received the same message. Each one different in field, background, or beliefs, but all had one thing in common: they'd been seen.

Some stared in disbelief. Others whooped in excitement. A few cried.

...

[Location: Egypt – Outskirts of the Sahara Desert][Time: Late Afternoon – Golden Hour]

The sun was low in the sky, casting a warm orange hue over the endless sand. Quiet and smooth winds rolled across the dunes. But deep in this forgotten land, something new was rising.

A massive structure stood in the middle of the desert. Flat, wide, and steel-gray, it stretched across several square miles. Dozens of robotic arms moved in sync, carrying metal sheets, welding beams, and laying down power lines.

This was the Starfire Base.

A full-scale spaceship construction and testing site. Hidden from the world.

Invisible to satellites.

Shielded by jammers.

Protected by Stark drones that flew in silent circles above the compound.

Inside the base, the walls were white. Bright lights lined the ceilings. Robots walked in rows. They were working nonstop.

In the heart of the structure, the Starfire ship was already taking shape. It was still in the early phase of development.

Tony stood on a balcony, hands on the rail, watching the workers below. He wore black cargo pants and a grey t-shirt, his hair messy. He was wearing smart glasses that fed him constant data.

Next to him stood a floating orb with glowing blue rings.

"Update," Tony said, without looking away.

"Construction is 12.4 percent complete. Structural integrity: optimal. No malfunctions detected," Hermes answered.

Behind them, a large monitor lit up, showing blueprint layouts, ship specs, and resource counts.

"Elena," Tony said, turning toward the control deck, "Status on incoming materials?"

"All shipments have cleared customs. They are en route via encrypted transport drones. No threats detected," Elena answered.

Tony nodded. "Good. Keep the perimeter locked. No one in or out unless I say so. We can't be too careful."

He took a deep breath and looked at the ship again. This was it. In the past months, he managed to create a detection device for cosmic radiation thanks to the energy readings from the Tesseract. He also created a containment device to trap and store cosmic radiation. Now, all he has to do is go to space and recreate the situation of the Fantastic Four from the comics or movies. Once his body evolves, he'd be free from the pain of the Mind Stone inside his head and gain new control and abilities. 

'Well, no need to get overexcited. It's still a long way to go,' He reminded himself and calmed his excitement. 'Time to focus on the job at hand.'

...

[Location: Celestial Island – Secure Perimeter]
[Time: Early Evening]

The dead celestial was freaking giant, bigger than any island on the map. And as usual, Yelena deployed the tech.

No radar could find it.

No satellite could see it.

No one could approach without being torn apart.

Perimeter drones moved in silent circuits through the humid air, each equipped with advanced motion tracking, heat vision, and kill protocols. Cloaking tech made the island completely invisible to eyes, and frequency jammers kept even the most advanced listening tools deaf. Turrets rotated in carefully coordinated arcs, ready to obliterate anything that moved without proper ID.

It took two months to set everything up due to the unknown structure. Then there was moving resources and all. And the exploration. 

Near the center of the island, just beyond a natural waterfall fed by the mountain’s internal spring, a facility had been carved into the stone. The natural formation made it easier for them to set things up. Built underground with reinforced alloy plates, hidden entrances, and natural geothermal cooling systems, it housed the island’s central command.

Inside the control room, ten women stood around a central table displaying a 3D map of the island. 

Yelena stood at the head of the table. She wore a tactical jacket over her Widow armor, sleeves rolled up. She looked alert as usual. 

“Any drone pings from the west coast?” she asked without looking up.

“No,” replied Ingrid, one of the older Widows. “Patrols are clean. Perimeter holding. Jammers synced.”

Yelena nodded. “Turret calibration?”

“Complete,” said Aiko, tapping a panel. “They’ll pierce a vibranium hull at full charge.”

“Good.” Yelena stepped back, arms crossed. “That leaves extraction.”

The holographic display shifted, zooming in on a quarry-like pit deep inside the island.

Raw Adamantium...

---

AN: Next Chapter: Lunch invitation for Susan Storm

[Vol-2 End] [Ironman] Ch: 85 [What's next?]

[Location: Horizon Facility – Garden Terrace]

[Time: Next Morning: 8:20]

The sun hung low over the ocean, casting a soft orange glow across the white stone walkways of Horizon Island. The breeze carried the scent of salt and the faint buzz of drones tending to garden systems. Birds, real and artificial, moved through the trees in rhythmic calm.

Tony stopped for a moment, looking at the sun. No matter how many times he sees it, it never gets old. After stretching his body a bit, he resumed his walk.

He walked alone through the winding path toward the overlook. He was wearing a dark hoodie, boots, and a half-empty glass of pineapple juice. He took a sip and moved more slowly than usual. Less of his usual swagger. More weight in each step.

He found them...

Steve was sitting on a bench, wrapped in a grey lightweight jacket. Peggy sat beside him, in a simple t-shirt and jeans, their fingers loosely intertwined. They looked tired but grounded. Like two people who had been underwater for a long time and were finally breathing again.

Tony approached with a warm nod.

"Morning, lovebirds."

Steve stood slowly, offering a small grin. "Tony Stark. I've been waiting to meet you." He extended his hand toward Tony.

He shook Cap's hand with a smile.

Peggy smiled too. "You're looking better. I heard you collapsed due to overwork." 

"Yeah, had a nap, some water, an existential crisis. The usual." Tony shrugged, then motioned to the bench. "Mind if I join?"

They both nodded. Tony sat, elbows resting on his knees.

"I just wanted to check in. How are you both holding up?"

Peggy answered first. "Still catching up, but... we're okay. It's overwhelming, sure. Everything's changed. But we’re together."

Steve nodded. "Yeah. I’m still adjusting to this time. The tech, the people, all of it. But it’s easier when she’s here."

Tony gave a small smile. "Good. You two deserve that."

Peggy looked at him. "We’ve been talking. About what’s next."

"And?" Tony asked.

"We’re thinking of taking some time off," she said. "Maybe disappear for a while. A quiet vacation. We have... a lot of catching up to do."

Steve added, "After that, we’ll figure out the rest. Where we fit. What we want to do. Together."

Tony nodded. "You’ve earned it. Honestly, if anyone deserves a break, it’s you two."

There was a pause. Steve turned to him, eyes steady.

"Thank you, Tony. For everything. For saving my life. For giving this new chance. I don't think I can ever repay you for all this."

"Repay? Let's just say you owe me one," Tony said.

"Just say the word, I'll be there," Steve said, giving a nod.

Peggy reached over, resting a hand on Tony’s arm.

"You gave us a second chance. That’s not something we take lightly."

Tony tried to wave it off but smiled anyway. "I just put the pieces together. You two did the hard part. But if anyone from Shield asks... this meeting never happened. Got it?"

They both nodded.

Then Tony leaned back with a teasing grin.

"So... when’s the wedding?"

Peggy laughed. Steve blinked, caught off guard.

"I mean, you’ve waited what, seventy years? Don’t tell me you’re gonna stall now."

Peggy squeezed Steve’s hand and smiled. "We’ll let you know. And don’t worry, you’re already on the guest list."

Tony gave a mock bow. "I expect good food and chilled beer."

Steve chuckled. "That's a promise I can make."

Tony stood, stretching. "Alright. I’ll leave you two to your sunshine and nostalgia."

As he walked away, Peggy called after him.

"Tony."

He turned.

"Thank you. Truly."

He nodded once, his smile softer now.

"Take care of each other. Oh, by the way. You two should check out the northern part of the island. Take the back stairs behind the training building and go straight. You can't miss it. Just make sure to clean up the place after you two leave. Well, see ya..."

...

[Location: Horizon Facility – Residential Wing – Room 12]

[Time: 9:12 AM]

The room was quiet, lit only by the soft blue glow of the projection screen. Harry Osborn sat cross-legged on his bed, wearing a black sweatshirt and loose cargo pants. His eyes were red-rimmed, not from lack of sleep but from watching the same recording over and over again.

On the screen, his father’s face stared back: tired, pale, but clear.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, Harry,” Norman said in the video, his voice slower than Harry remembered. “I just want you to know the truth. All of it. I was wrong. I did terrible things. I became the kind of man I used to hate. And I let you grow up thinking power was everything.”

Harry didn’t blink.

Norman’s face flickered slightly on the screen. He looked like he wanted to say more, but there was a pause. Then he continued.

“Tony... he saved your life. He gave me a chance to come clean. I took it because I couldn’t let you become me. I told him to help you disappear. Far from Oscorp. Far from all this. He agreed.”

The video paused there... Harry had stopped it. He stared at his father’s frozen face, jaw tight.

There was a knock at the door.

Harry didn’t answer.

The door opened anyway.

Tony stepped in and saw the projection still floating, Norman’s face paused mid-sentence.

Tony didn’t speak right away. He walked over to the wall and leaned against it, arms crossed.

“You’ve been watching that all night,” he said.

Harry glanced over but didn’t respond.

Tony pushed off the wall and walked over to the bed. He didn’t sit. He stood a few feet away.

“I’m not here to lecture you. Or judge you. I’m just here to talk.”

Harry let out a dry, humorless breath. “About what? How I should feel? Or how I should act now that my father..." He couldn't finish...

“No,” Tony said quietly. “About what comes next.”

Harry’s fists clenched on the blanket.

“I watched it all, Tony. Every file. Every video. Every name. I saw what he did to people. To kids. To mutants. I saw the labs. I saw the surgeries. And I saw his face while he did it. Calm. Proud. Like he was building something noble.”

Tony sat on the edge of the desk across from him.

"He started it to find a way to cure you... But... Well, he lost his way somewhere in between..."

Harry looked down at his hands. They were shaking. He pressed them into his knees to stop the tremble, but it didn’t work.

“I don’t know who I am without him,” he muttered. “Even after all this… even after what he did… part of me still wants to believe he loved me. That some part of him was trying to protect me.”

Tony didn’t interrupt.

Harry looked up, eyes bloodshot. “He killed people, Tony. He hurt so many. But he also tried to fix it in the end. I don’t know how to reconcile that. One minute, I hate him. The next… I miss him.”

Tony nodded slowly. “That’s normal. You lost your dad. Doesn’t matter what he did. He was still your father.”

Harry wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. “Is that what it’s like? Losing someone like that?”

Tony met his eyes. “Yeah. It’s exactly like that. A thousand questions you’ll never get answers to. Regrets. Anger. Guilt. But also... moments. Memories that won’t leave you. And it doesn’t make sense how they coexist. But they do.”

Harry swallowed hard. “You think I’m gonna turn out like him?”

Tony leaned forward, voice calm and steady. “No. Because you’re asking that question. He never did.”

Harry blinked. That hit something.

Tony continued. “You’ve got a clean slate, Harry. No Oscorp. No lab rats. No expectations to be the next king of a broken empire. You can build whatever kind of life you want now. I made sure of it.”

Harry looked at him with something like disbelief. “Why?”

“Because your dad asked me to,” Tony said. "For the truth."

Harry stared at him. His lips parted like he wanted to speak, but nothing came out. He didn’t cry. He just sat there, frozen in a storm that hadn’t passed yet.

Tony stood up, pacing slowly toward the window.

"You know, I used to think my dad never cared. That all I was to him was a PR piece and a potential successor. For years, I kinda hated him. He used to drink too much, and all those yelling... I knew he was going through some hard times. Yet... Then one day, I looked in the mirror and saw his shadow. And I realized something."

Harry turned to him slightly.

Tony kept his eyes on the window. The ocean shimmered in the morning light.

"It’s not about escaping your legacy. It’s about choosing what part of it you carry forward, and what part you bury for good."

Silence filled the room again.

Tony looked over his shoulder.

"What about you, Harry?" He asked. "Are you going to carry the name of Osborn and rebuild everything from scratch, all the good parts like what Oscorp was when it started... Or just bury everything and disappear? Take the shortcut."

Harry looked down at his hands again, quiet for a long moment. The storm in his chest hadn’t passed, but Tony’s words cut through it. Not like a blade, more like a lighthouse. Something to steer toward in the dark.

“I don’t know,” Harry finally said. “I don’t want to be like him. But I don’t want to pretend he didn’t exist either. If I run, I’m just erasing everything. If I stay and try to rebuild... I’ll always be in his shadow.”

Tony walked back across the room, leaned against the wall near the door, arms crossed.

“Then don’t rebuild Oscorp,” he said simply. “Build something else. Take the good ideas, leave the name behind. You’re not your father, Harry. You’re not your past. You’re just you. And what you do next... that’s what defines you.”

Harry gave a half-nod. It wasn’t an agreement. Not yet. But it wasn’t denial either.

Tony pushed off the wall and walked toward the door.

“I left something on the server. Private file. Your access only. It’s a full breakdown of Oscorp’s clean tech research, the stuff that wasn’t poisoned by greed or military contracts. Solar fields. Medical drones. Neuro-assistive tech. Your father may have drowned in ambition, but some of his scientists had good ideas. You decide what to do with it.”

Harry looked up, caught between confusion and gratitude.

“You’re giving that to me? Just like that?”

Tony shrugged.

“I’m not your dad, Harry. I don’t need to own you to help you.”

He stepped out into the hallway, then paused, turning just enough to glance back.

“By the way... You are going to stay here till things calm down. If you are bored, then there’s a workshop three floors down. Empty. Clean. All yours. Enough space to build whatever the hell you want. Or, if you want to stretch your legs, just go to the training building. See ya..."

Tony left the room.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Harry sat there, staring at the frozen image of his father still projected in the air. Then, slowly, he reached forward... and turned it off.

The room went quiet.

He sat in that silence for a while, thinking.

Then he stood. He didn’t know what he would build yet. But for the first time in a long time, he knew he wanted to try.

...

[Location: Horizon Facility – Command Deck – Later That Morning]

Tony stood with Natasha near the central balcony overlooking the island. The sun was higher now, casting long lines across the ocean’s surface. Drones flew in tight formations, keeping watch. The breeze was cool, not cold. Clear skies stretched for miles.

“You good?” Natasha asked.

Tony nodded slowly. “Yeah. For now.”

She studied him for a moment.

“You did right by him.”

Tony didn’t respond. Just looked out at the water.

“You think he’ll be okay?” she added.

Tony finally spoke. “That depends. Some people spend their whole lives trying to fix the mess their parents left behind. But Harry’s got a chance that most people don’t. He knows where the line is. And he knows what happens when you cross it.”

Natasha rested her arms on the railing beside him.

“Yelena will leave for the Celestial Island in a day or two, Melina is guarding your dad, I'll guide the girls and take out the outside trash in a couple of days max... So, I was wondering,” she asked. “What's next?”

Tony took a deep breath.

"Next. Stark Expo. Dad's already out there setting things up. And," He grabbed Natasha's waist and pulled closer. "...we are going to meet some new people who will join us in our space adventure."

---

NEXT: Space Arc

[Shazam] Ch: 3 [SHAZAM!]

John rushed in with the knife, wild and reckless, teeth clenched like he could bite fate in half. He aimed for the guard's face, knowing he'd never survive this but needing to leave a mark. Just one.

But Luna moved first.

While the guards watched John charge like a rabid dog, they forgot her. She slipped the metal shard from her boot and lunged low. The blade sliced across the back of the guard's leg. The tendons gave way with a wet snap.

He screamed, his knees buckling.

John didn't hesitate. He drove the knife up, under the man's chin, deep into the soft part of the throat. It sank in with a sick sound, and the guard's eyes went wide as blood flooded his mouth. He choked on it. Gurgled. Fell.

The camp commander. Dead.

Silence hit the room harder than the scream.

Then chaos.

The soldiers shouted. Rifles raised. Fingers on triggers.

John moved without thinking. He threw his arms around Luna and pressed her against the sarcophagus, using his own body as a shield. He saw the first muzzle flash and braced himself.

Bullets tore into him. First in the back. Then the side. Then more.

The pain didn't even feel real. Just pressure. Like someone pushing hard on his skin over and over.

His breath caught in his throat. Warmth flooded his chest. He held Luna tighter. She was crying, face buried against him.

Then her body jerked.

He felt her stiffen.

A small, red hole bloomed in her forehead. Just like that, she was gone.

John's mouth moved, trying to say her name, but no sound came out. His legs gave out. His body dropped with hers. They slid to the floor together.

His head hit the stone. His cheek rested against the cold, blood-slick surface of the sarcophagus. Luna's face was inches from his, her eyes glassy, her mouth slightly open.

So much blood.

His vision swam. Everything was dull, like watching the world through dirty glass.

The soldiers shouted again. One of them stepped closer to kick his body. Another leaned in, checking the pulse.

"He's still breathing."

A boot hit his ribs.

"Fucker's still alive after that? Well, not for long."

One of them pressed the rifle's muzzle to John's head.

"Don't shoot him. Let him bleed to death. Wanna bet how long he'll hold on to his pathetic life?" One of the said.

"Fuck yeah! 100 quids. 10 seconds."

"Dang! Fine. 120 quids says 15 seconds."

While they were betting...

Everything slowed.

The shouting guards blurred into shadows. John's ears rang. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He couldn't save her in the end. 

His body didn't hurt anymore. Maybe because it was shutting down. Maybe because there wasn't anything left to feel. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking into the stone, mixing with Luna's.

He wanted to say her name. Just once. Just whisper it into the dark.

But nothing came out.

His lips barely moved. His chest barely rose.

Then he saw it.

Where his hand touched the sarcophagus, something glowed. Faint at first. A dull flicker, like a dying ember. Gold, with hints of black. Like lightning trapped in stone.

It pulsed once. Then again. Brighter.

The staff inside the tomb somehow appeared right before his hand. 

John couldn't think. Couldn't reason. How could he? He was a few seconds away from his death. In that brief moment, he let out a blood-curdling scream as he barely touched the staff. The soldiers laughed at him while betting and having their fill of fun.

'Say my name...' A whisper came to his ears.

John tried to speak, but no word came out.

But there was no time...

One last try.

One last breath.

And with blood running down his mouth and nose, his voice barely a whisper, he said it.

"Shazam."

The chamber exploded.

Light filled every crack in the tomb. Not warm. Not gentle.

This was lightning. Judgment. Wrath.

The blast vaporized the guard standing over him.

The lightning swallowed everything. Stone cracked. Metal liquefied. The guards didn't even have the chance to scream because they were simply vaporized in an instant.

When it cleared, only dust and ashes remained where men had stood.

Time itself seemed to hold its breath. A strange, pressing silence replaced the chaos. Floating particles of golden dust hung in the air like suspended fireflies.

John lay motionless, barely alive, his body still leaking blood. 

Then he heard it.

A voice.

Feminine.

“You expected salvation from the wizard? No, you are my champion.”

A pulse of power surged through his veins. His back arched. Bones snapped and reformed.

“You were chosen for something older. Something the world forgot.”

The blood around him dried in an instant. The wounds closed. Scars vanished. His eyes burned with gold.

“Shu grants you stamina... endless as the sky.”

“Heru gives you speed... swift as the falcon’s dive.”

“Amon lends you strength... rivaling the storm itself.”

“Zehuti offers you wisdom... ancient, clear, absolute.”

“Aton channels power... the sun’s fury made flesh.”

“Mehen wraps you in courage... the serpent’s protection.”

John gasped as the words echoed in his skull, each one crashing through his body like thunder. His chest heaved. Air surged into his lungs like he was breathing for the first time.

The ground beneath him cracked. Gold light shot from his eyes, arcing upward like a signal to something beyond the veil of this world.

His spine straightened. His muscles expanded. Tendons thickened. Bones hardened. The wiry frame that had once belonged to a desperate man was replaced by his full potential form.

Black armor erupted over his skin, forged by unseen hands, forming around him as if nanites were swarming over his body to form the armor. The symbol of the lightning bolt burned across his chest, pulsing like a second heart.

John stood tall, taller than he’d ever been, every fiber of his body alive with power. His full evolved form made him look like a 25-year-old man. But his eyes, burning gold a second ago, dimmed when they found her.

Luna.

Still.

Her body lay exactly where it had fallen. Face relaxed. Eyes closed now. The red hole in her forehead was small, precise, unfair. Her hands were still curled like she’d been reaching for him when it happened.

John dropped to his knees. He failed to protect her. 

He reached for her, and his fingers trembled. Even though he got new power now, it wasn't enough to fix this. Lightning couldn’t reverse a bullet or bring her back to life.

“Luna…”

He cradled her head gently, brushing her hair back. It felt wrong that she looked peaceful. She was never quiet. She always had something to say, something to fight about, some plan brewing in her sharp mind.

He’d seen her bleed before. He’d seen her fight through pain, outwit enemies twice as clever, and stand tall when others broke. She didn’t die.

She wasn’t supposed to die.

"No..." 

John stood up with her in his arms. He won't let her go this easily. She dreamt of freedom and just when he gain the power to do that, she wasn't there anymore. 

"You are not allowed to die just like this..."

John knew about the DC universe. He had read comics and seen movies. So, he knew exactly where he needed to go to bring her back to life. 

The League of Assassins...

...Lazarus Pit.

John blasted through the stone ceiling like a cannon, the debris turning to dust around him. The lightning bolt on his chest flared bright as he shot into the night sky, Luna cradled in his arms. Her body was still warm. He didn’t have much time.

He tore through the air over Kahndaq, headed straight for the outpost tower. The guards never stood a chance. He hit the ground like a missile, the shockwave flattening walls and bodies alike. One raised his rifle, but John was already in front of him. A blur. A punch. The man folded in half and crashed into the far wall.

"DON'T GET IN MY WAY!" He yelled in anger as lightning bolts erupted from his body, killing everyone around him.

In seconds, it was over.

He stepped over the bodies without slowing down. He punched through the metal door of the broadcast room and ripped it out like a piece of paper. Inside, blinking monitors and equipment lined the walls. A guard tried to draw his sidearm. John didn’t even look. He moved once and grabbed the guard's throat and snapped his neck.

He snatched a phone from the dead man’s pocket, opened the map, and typed it in: Gotham.

"Found it."

John kicked open the window and flew out, the phone clutched in one hand, Luna in the other. The wind howled past his ears as the city lights blurred beneath him. He followed the coast, soaring faster than any jet, leaving a trail of gold lightning behind him that lit up the night sky.

Gotham appeared on the horizon like a bruise on the world. Clouded. Gritty. Choked in fog and shadows.

Perfect.

He needed Batman.

If anyone knew how to find the League of Assassins and the Lazarus Pit, it was him.

John found the Wayne Tower and didn’t waste time with doors. He simply flew around and spotted Bruce by luck. He was still in his office that night.

He flew straight in, shattering through the glass wall of Bruce Wayne’s office in a blast of shards and wind. The billionaire barely had time to turn before John landed hard, the floor cracking beneath his boots.

Bruce was there, still in his suit, tie loosened, eyes narrowing as the dust settled.

John didn’t speak at first. He held Luna in his arms, soaked in blood.

Bruce stepped forward, unfazed. “Who are you?”

“I need the Lazarus Pit.”

John pointed his finger at Bruce.

"Give me the location of the League of Assassins."

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “Put her down.”

“I’m not here to fight you,” John said, voice raw. “She’s dead. I have the power to fly across the world, burn through armies, survive bullets... and I can’t even save her. She saved my life, yet I failed her. But you can help me.”

Bruce didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared.

“You know where it is,” John said. “You know how to get in. You know Ra’s.”

“I also know the Pit doesn’t bring people back the same.”

“I’ll take that risk,” John said. “For her, I’ll risk anything.”

A long pause. Then Bruce looked at Luna, at the small hole in her forehead, and the blood dried on her skin.

Finally, he nodded. “You’ve got one shot.”

He stepped to a panel on the wall, entered a sequence.

Coordinates lit up on a nearby screen.

“Nanda Parbat,” Bruce said as he took out a GPS device and gave it to him. “Take this. Follow the signal. That’s all I can do.”

John didn’t say thank you. He didn’t have time for gratitude. 

He just turned, cradled Luna closer, and shot back into the night... glass swirling in the air behind him.

'Another superhuman. Need to create countermeasures,' Bruce thought with a grim expression.

----

AN: I decided to go with Black Adam's power. But wait a sec... What if he gains the Wizard's power too? Will that make him stronger than Superman?

[Shazam] Ch: 2 [Death either way]

Words: 2.7k.

---

A few months later. Or maybe more. Time didn't mean much anymore.

John Mason couldn't remember what day it was, or if days even existed in this place. There was only digging. Heat. Death. And the smell of sour sweat, blood, and burnt rock, always clinging to his nostrils like a brand.

He was thinner now. Hollow-cheeked. His ribs showed when he bent over, his back a web of bruises and healing welts. The man who once lit joints in office windows didn't exist anymore. That man had been broken down, piece by piece, and left to rot in the sun-baked filth of Kahndaq.

There was no escape. No hope. No plans of rebellion.

The last group that tried got paraded out in front of the entire camp. A family... mother, father, their two little boys, maybe five and eight, and a few young men who thought they could change something. The guards shot the children first just to make a point and give the parents pain. Then the parents. Then the rebels.

Luna had watched without blinking. Her jaw clenched so tight it bled.

John had puked behind the barracks when no one was looking.

That night, he tried to kill himself.

He waited until lights-out, until the drills stopped screaming and the guards got bored of beating anyone. He found a jagged chunk of metal under the workbench and slipped it into his pocket.

He walked out to the pit, past the work lines, past the place where the bodies were dumped when there were too many for the fire trench. He held the shard to his neck, and he thought about his last meal on Earth. The Principal's wife. The smoke. The gun.

But when he pressed the edge to his skin, he thought of Luna.

A week ago, a machine belt snapped and whipped across her hand. Two fingers gone. She didn't scream. Just bit down on a piece of cloth and staggered behind a crate until the bleeding slowed. John had wrapped her hand and never said a word. Then he started doing her share of the load. Every day. Quietly. Because if the guards noticed, she'd be dead before she could blink.

If he died now, she'd be next.

He dropped the metal.

That was the night John found his reason to live. Not for himself. But for the girl with missing fingers, who still looked at the horizon like something out there was worth waiting for. She saved his life once, now it's time to pay back.

He didn't speak much after that. Just worked. Ate what little he could. Slept like a soldier in a foxhole, one eye open, every muscle half-tensed. He carried Luna's weight and his own. He learned to walk quieter, move smarter, and keep his head down even when it burned to lift it.

Luna grew weaker, but she was still there. Still watching the guards like she was memorizing their patterns. Still whispering rumors in his ear when they passed by, the kind of whispers that made him think she still had a plan. Even if it was insane.

One night, while cleaning a broken drill part in the shade of the old wall, she said, "There's a map."

He looked at her. "A map of what?"

"Passages. Old ones. Before this place became a mine."

"You believe that?"

"I don't have to. I just need it to be possible."

He didn't answer.

She stared at him. "You still want to die?"

John shook his head. "We are already dead. It's just a matter of time before this body falls. But before I go, I will kill something first."

Luna smiled. Just a little. The first time in weeks.

The next morning, the guards marched in a new shipment of prisoners. All in chains. Most were barely standing. But one of them caught John's eye... Tall, gaunt, face covered in soot, and the other guards kinda seem afraid of him.

The announcement came at noon.

The gaunt new guard stepped out of the building with a scrap of paper in his hand. He didn't shout. He just spoke, and the way he said it... flat, like a judge reading a sentence, somehow made it worse.

"New order. Mining output to double. Effective immediately. No breaks. No meals during shifts. Anyone collapses, they're left where they fall."

No one moved. No one dared breathe too loud.

Then one of the older guards barked at the crowd and fired a round into the air, and the camp jolted back to life. Picks slammed into stone. Chains dragged. Cries echoed against the pit walls.

Another week of hell began.

Luna didn't cry. John didn't flinch. They just got back in line, shoulders hunched like everyone else.

That night, under the cover of drills and dust, they made their move.

Luna had the map tucked in the lining of her shirt, a faded scrap of parchment with ink nearly bled away. She'd found it in the boiler room weeks ago, hidden in a broken panel behind the old furnace. Or maybe someone gave it to her. She never said. Just called it "a gift."

They slipped out during the third shift rotation. There was a momentary gap in the guarding session when the new shift came in and the old shift went to rest. John led, hunched low, sticking to the walls. Luna followed, her bandaged hand cradled against her chest, feet silent on the cracked stone.

John made sure to carry makeshift torches, matches, an iron club, some digging tools, water, and whatever little food they had saved.

They passed the body trench. The fires were low tonight. Ash hung in the air like falling snow.

Behind the barracks, past the water barrels and the broken fence, they found it: a crack in the mine wall just wide enough to crawl through. Just like the map showed.

John hesitated. "You sure?"

Luna didn't answer. She was already on her hands and knees, sliding in.

Inside was dark. Choked with dust and silence. The air smelled old, like it hadn't moved in a hundred years. The tunnel sloped down, uneven and tight. John scraped his elbows. Luna hit her head more than once. But they didn't stop.

Hours passed. Maybe more. They couldn't tell. Only the sound of their breath and the soft crunch of gravel under palms kept them grounded.

Eventually, the tunnel widened. A chamber opened up, carved by hands long dead. Rusted tools hung from pegs. A rotten pile of wood and moss.

Luna lit a match. The flame danced, weak but alive. John took out a torch, and Luna lit it up.

"There," she said, pointing. "That way leads out. I think."

Suddenly...

An alarm.

Just one blare, echoing faintly through the stone veins of the tunnel.

John froze. Luna's eyes snapped to his.

"Shit!" she said, barely a whisper. "Let's go."

John nodded. No time to speak. He grabbed the torch and moved. Fast now. They both did, scrambling over uneven ground, ducking under fallen beams, slipping past jagged outcroppings.

Then Luna fell.

A hard crack of bone on stone. She gasped, clutched her ankle.

John turned back instantly. "Luna!"

"Keep going," she hissed, pain lacing her voice. "Take it." She shoved the map at him with her good hand. "Go."

He didn't even look at it.

He dropped the torch, tossed the backpack into the dark, slung the water bottle over his neck, and crouched low.

"You're insane," she muttered.

"Shut up and hold on."

She tried to protest, but he already had her up, one arm around his shoulders, the other under her knees. She was light. Lighter than she should've been. He could feel every rib through her shirt.

Behind them, another alarm. Closer this time. Muffled shouts. Metal clanking.

John pushed forward, his legs burning, lungs drawing in dust and smoke. The tunnel forked, and he followed the map's markings from memory: three notches, then a sharp bend.

Then the ground dropped beneath them, not far, but enough to rattle his teeth when he landed. Luna groaned. He adjusted her weight and kept moving.

Ahead, a shimmer of stone structure.

They reached it within minutes: a massive door, half-collapsed, embedded in the cliff face like a buried god. Ancient murals spread across the stone, faded but still clear. Warriors with flaming heads, spirals of fire, something that looked like a sky bleeding light. Words carved in a language John didn’t know.

There was no time to decipher.

To the right, a crack in the wall. Narrow, but wide enough.

He squeezed them through sideways, Luna half-dragged, half-lifted. The tunnel spat them into a chamber. Quiet. Wide. Air cooler, still.

It was a tomb.

Pillars rose in the dark like fingers from the earth. Statues loomed along the sides, crumbled and eyeless. In the center, a stone sarcophagus lay broken open, the lid split in two like it had been blown from the inside.

Luna slid from his arms onto the ground, breathing hard. She looked up.

“What is this place?”

He was staring at the far wall. Symbols glowed faintly. Lines curled like circuitry across the stone, pulsing once, then fading.

"No idea," John said as he handed the water bottle to Luna. "Drink some and take some rest. I'll look around... There has got to be a way out. Maybe some lever or something..."

Luna sat slumped against a pillar, her face pale and slick with sweat. She clutched her ankle and breathed in shallow bursts, like every inhale cost her something. John moved around the tomb, torchlight flickering against the carved walls, casting long shadows that seemed to watch him back.

No exit. No hidden passage. Just cold stone and the silent, looming presence of the statues.

He walked to the sarcophagus. The lid was cracked in two, jagged like a lightning bolt had split it. Inside was nothing but dust and a broken staff, dull and brittle-looking, curled like it had been twisted by heat. He leaned closer, expecting... something. A skeleton. Ashes. The charred remains of some godlike corpse.

Nothing. Just the staff, half-buried in powder.

"So much for legends," he muttered.

A click echoed behind him.

Then a soft clink. Something round rolled across the stone floor and stopped near his boot.

His brain caught up a second too late.

He turned to Luna...

"Get down!"

...but the flashbang went off before the words fully left his mouth.

White. Then black.

The bang shook the tomb like thunder inside his skull. His ears screamed. His vision shattered into stars.

Voices. Heavy boots. Metal on stone.

He staggered to his feet, torch dropped, eyes struggling to adjust.

Figures stormed in through the crack in the wall. Guards. Five, maybe six. Rifles up. Shouting commands that blurred into noise. One grabbed Luna. She kicked weakly, tried to scream, but her voice was lost under the ringing.

John moved. No plan. Just instinct.

"Argggg!" He tackled the nearest guard low, drove his shoulder into the man's gut, and brought him down. The rifle clattered away. John snatched it up, blind-firing as he spun.

Two more closed in.

He shot once, maybe twice. He wasn’t sure if he hit anyone. A baton cracked across his back. Another across his ribs. He dropped the gun. Hands grabbed him, pulled him backward. A fist split his lip. He tasted blood.

Someone hit Luna again. She collapsed. Her body folded like paper.

"Stop!" John bellowed, voice hoarse. He surged against the grip holding him. "Don’t touch her!"

A rifle butt slammed into his face. The world turned sideways.

Darkness took him before he hit the floor.

..

..

A splash of cold water snapped him awake.

John gasped, choking, blinking through pain and blur. His arms were tied behind his back. Knees dug into stone. Blood crusted his mouth. The tomb was still around him, the broken statues now lit by harsh, artificial light. Battery lamps. Brought in by the guards.

The new guard stood over him, calm as ever. The one who made the announcement. Still gaunt. Still unreadable.

"Thank you," the man said. His voice was dry, almost polite. "You and the girl did us a favor. We’ve been digging for years. Moving rock, wasting lives. All to find this place."

He knelt, almost at eye level with John. "And here you are. Leading us straight to it. Did you know she's the daughter of the rebels we just killed the other day? I tortured that bastard to give up the map, but well... He gave it to her daughter."

Luna's eyes widened.

"Oh, yes. We knew it from the beginning, but it was a necessary step to reach our end goal."

John said nothing. Just breathed. Watched. Waited.

"As for how we found you so fast?" The man smiled without warmth. "You’re not as clever as you think."

He pulled something from his pocket and tossed it near John's knees. The dented, scorched water bottle. John's water bottle.

"Tracker was in the cap. Easy. And one of the other workers… well. Let’s just say some people want out more than others. Freedom makes traitors of everyone, eventually."

John's jaw clenched. He thought of the tired faces in the lines. The desperate glances. He didn’t know who sold them out, but he knew why. Hunger. Fear. Hope. All poison in the right hands.

The guard stood and turned to Luna.

She was barely conscious, slumped against a pillar, breathing shallowly. Her left eye was swollen shut, and blood streaked down her cheek. The moment she stirred, the man grabbed a fistful of her hair and dragged her forward.

She didn’t scream. Just grit her teeth and let him pull her.

He threw her down in front of the sarcophagus with a thud. Her injured ankle twisted under her, and she cried out. The guard crouched beside her and pointed to the faded inscription on the base of the tomb.

"Read it."

Luna shook her head, weak but defiant. "No."

A kick landed square in her ribs.

She coughed, curled inward.

"DON'T HURT HER!" John yelled in his hoarse voice, only to earn a punch on his right cheek. "Kuggg!"

"Read it," he said again.

She looked up at him, one eye full of hate. "Go to hell."

The man straightened.

One of the soldiers stepped forward, rifle raised. Pressed the barrel against John’s temple.

Luna saw it. Her lips parted, breath shallow.

John didn't move.

The guard's voice was calm. Cold. "Last chance."

"You think you are so tough?" John said after spitting a mouthful of blood. "Hitting a woman like a panzy ass bitch... Ha! What a joke."

"What did you say?" The head guard turned around.

"Ah! A deaf panzy ass bitch... Hahaha!" John mocked again. 

The soldier punched him again. His body slammed against the floor.

"Hahaha..." John continued laughing. His teeth were covered in blood, and a stream of blood was rushing out of his nose. "Did I hit a nerve? Cough! Cough! You think you are a man? Why don't you cut me loose and fight me like a man? Oops. You are just a bitch who hits woman and hides behind... twenty armed men."

"Interesting," The head guard smiled without getting angry. 

"Yeah, very. You'll kill us either way. But let me tell you, I'll at least kill one of you before I die. But if you are afraid of a thin mine slave... Well," John said with his usual grin. He knew there was no escape from this. They will kill them either way. So, why not go with a little more struggle? 

"Don't," Luna said meekly.

But the guard gave a nod to the one holding John. He pulled John up to his feet and gave him a knife.

"You want to fight? Let's fight," The head guard simply stood there with his hands behind his back. 

John's eyes fell on Luna. He just winked at her before rushing toward the brute before him... 

Everyone's eyes were on the two of them. Luna took this chance to grab her makeshift metal knife from her boots. 

'If we are going to die, we'll take you motherfucker with us.' She thought and prepared herself.

[Ironman] Ch: 84 [Howard and Tony]

[A few hours later...]

Tony's eyes fluttered open. His head was pounding. He looked around and saw that he was in his room. Beside him, Howard was sitting on the armchair, and Natasha on his left. Both of them looked worried. Seeing him waking up, both of them sighed in relief.

"T-Tony..." Natasha stammered, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Just the usual. Forgot to take the med," Tony sat up as he pitched the bridge of his nose and frowned. "Sorry for worrying you."

"Med?" Howard stood up and walked up to his bed. "Tony... What med are you talking about?"

"As you know, I have a habit of overworking myself and staying awake for long periods of time, which has caused sleep deprivation and the usual headache. Thus the meds. Nothing to worry about. And don't tell Mom. She's gonna drag me back home if she finds out." Tony waved dismissively. As much as he wanted to tell his dad about the ticking bomb of an Infinity Stone in his brain, he decided not to. It could put both of them at risk in the future.

Howard sighed, shaking his head. "Building all those things and... You need to stop neglecting your health, son."

"Sorry about that. I'll try not to do it again."

Yelena usually takes care of Tony's meds and food. With her busy with the Celestial Island, Tony missed his reminders.

"Anyway, how's Steve?" Tony asked.

"Still a bit shaken. But Peggy is there with him, so I don't think they'll leave each other's side."

"That's good." Tony smiled.

"Well, then." Howard patted his back. "You need rest. Get some sleep."

"I had a good sleep. So, ask away what you wanted to ask. I'll try to answer them," Tony said as he reached for the glass of water on his bedside stand and took a sip.

Howard looked at Natasha and then back at Tony.

"The Shadow Legion..."

Before he could continue, Tony raised his hand.

"It's me. I created them."

Natasha remained calm while Howard frowned.

"You know Red Room, right?" Tony asked him.

"Yes. A Russian Syndicate. They kidnap kids to train them as assassins and spies... Widow Program. Shield has been trying to take them down for years. But they disappeared around two years ago. According to our intel, someone attacked their outposts," Howard replied.

Tony smiled, "I found them and wiped them out."

Howard's eyes widened. "You...?"

"Yup! After taking them down, I saved the Widows from their mind control, provided therapy, and helped them live normal lives. New identity, jobs, and everything they needed. But some decided to stay back," Tony explained.

"Wait a minute!" Howard took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "All these women around the base? They're the Widows?"

"Yes. I simply gave them another chance. I made sure that they didn't have to live with the sins of their past. Well, technically, it's not their sins, but those bastards from the Red Room. Now, they can live life as any other person without being burdened by their past."

Howard let out a long breath as he stared at Tony.

"Then I thought, if there are such cruel people in the world, then there is a possibility that in the future another Red Room or worse might surface. Not to mention those superpowered humans and mutants running around causing all kinds of trouble. So, I built the Shadow Legion. An elite team of enhanced individuals with the sole purpose of protecting people. Then I found out about the corrupt people in our system. Cops, government officials, Shield agents, Oscorp, Hydra, Hammer industries, Mandarin, and many others. That's where we come into the picture. Our goal is to expose these people, eliminate them if necessary, take their black money and give it to those in need, and make the world a better place for everyone."

Howard slumped back on the chair, deep in thought. There was a moment of silence between them.

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Well, too long. I started with Mandarin and Hydra after I found out about their assassination plan. They planned to kill you and mom. So, I did what I had to do... Eliminate them. Remember that time when Mandarin International suddenly fell? It was me. I exposed them and made them and Hydra fight each other. They destroyed each other. I exposed the Hydra agents inside Shield. I fix your relationship with Hank Pym. I saved Janet... Well, technically, I just gave Hank the info, and he did the rest. The rest, you already know from the news and Shield info channel. And as you can see... Here we are," Tony explained. "Oh, as for how I did it. Don't ask. I won't tell. A man gotta have some trade secret, right?"

Howard rubbed his forehead and sighed. "You... You're not a kid anymore. You've done so many things in such a short time. I'm proud of you, son. But..." Howard looked at him with a complicated gaze. "Did you kill? Take lives?"

"Yes. Yes, I have."

"And... Are you okay with that?"

Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "No. Not really. But it was a choice I had to make to protect my family, my loved ones... to protect you and mom and my friends here. Sometimes the most moral path isn't the best. You should know that, Dad. You killed during the war to protect people. We may not be at war, but I am protecting people. From evil, from injustice, and from the darkness in this world. And I have not taken any innocent life."

Howard remained silent, contemplating Tony's words. Natasha squeezed his hand tightly, smiling softly at him.

"I can't stop you, son. I never could. I don't think anyone could. Your determination, your will... You were always the best. I knew it from the day I saw you solving the Arc Reactor's formula. But this... Even I never imagined you'd come this far. You even found time to create technology to evolve the world. I couldn't be more proud of you than I am now." Howard smiled.

Tony nodded in reply.

"So, don't tell Mom?" He smiled, scratching his head.

"Why? Afraid she might ground you?" Howard chuckled. He was still processing everything, but he knew there was no stopping Tony at this point. And he wasn't going to stop him either. Instead, he decided to support his son as much as he could.

"That's one of the things I'm afraid of, yes." Tony chuckled, "You're cool with me being a crime-fighting vigilante?"

"I'll accept it if you accept one thing."

"What is it?"

"Don't overwork yourself. If something happens, tell me. I want you to depend on me when you need help."

"You serious?"

"Yes. All you have to do is ask."

"Well, I need a site to build a spaceship," Tony said with a large grin. He got Howard where he wanted. Now, Howard can't step back.

"Spaceship?" Howard narrowed his eyes. "You want to go to space?"

"Not just space. Let's just say, it's a secret and not to worry, I'll tell you everything when I am ready."

"Fine. You'll get your site and permits," Howard sighed.

"Thanks, Dad!" Tony cheered.

"Well, I should probably inform Fury and the others." Howard stood up.

"Keep my identity a secret from Fury and the world for now, please. I don't want Shield interfering with my work. As for Peggy and Cap, I'll talk to them," Tony said.

"Okay. I'll keep it a secret for now," Howard nodded as he stood up. "Just if you are planning on pulling another world-shifting stunt, please let me know in advance."

"Yeah. Got it," Tony chuckled.

Howard patted his head and left the room.

A few seconds later...

"You think he believed everything?" Natasha asked out of curiosity because she had never seen someone believing things that easily, and here it's Howard Stark himself.

"Yeah. He believes in me and my decision. That's what makes him a great dad. He doesn't try to stop me even after knowing about my secret identity. I've seen many parents trying to stop their kids from pursuing their dreams. And then I thought to myself, I'm so lucky to have him as my dad." Tony smiled. "Now, he wants to help me whenever I need help."

Natasha nodded with a small smile, "You think someday..." She didn't complete the sentence.

Tony knew what she wanted to say. He grabbed her arm and pulled her on top of him. He looked into her eyes as his right hand brushed against her cheek.

"Yes, someday. You are gonna be a great mom, Nat."

"And you'll be a great dad, Tony."

Their lips met as they kissed each other passionately.

---

AN: 1 more chapter before this volume ends. Vol-3 will start with a time skip, straight to the Stark Expo.

[Ironman] Ch: 83 [The Tesseract & Captain]

Tony gave Howard a sidelong glance, his usual smirk absent. “You’ve got a hundred questions, I know. I’ll explain everything. Later. Right now, time’s tight.”

Howard looked like he might argue, but after a beat, he nodded. “Fine. But don’t make me chase you down for answers.”

Tony clapped a hand on his father’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Keep Steve stable. I’ll meet you at Horizon.”

With that, Howard turned and jogged toward the waiting transport jet, where Peggy and Melina were already securing Steve inside the containment pod. The engines roared to life, wind swirling snow into spirals as the ramp closed behind them.

Tony waited until the jet was airborne and fading into the stormclouds. Then he turned to the Widows still gathered near the scaffold.

“We're done here,” he said, voice clipped. “Pack up. Remove out trace. Head back to base. Take the long route and avoid any signal hotspots. I don’t want chatter about this bouncing off every satellite.”

Melina’s second-in-command, a sharp-eyed Widow named Anya, gave a single nod. “Understood.”

Within moments, the team scattered into motion, gathering equipment, disabling surveillance drones, and collapsing tents. Tony didn’t wait for them to finish. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

The Infinity Stone in his head was reacting to the energy of the Tesseract. It was like a resonance of some kind. 

There.

A different vibration.

A deeper hum beneath the surface. Cold, ancient, alien. The Space Stone. The Tesseract.

It wasn’t far.

He could feel it pulsing under the ice, like a buried star. Not a signal exactly, but a gravitational echo his enhanced senses could trace, especially now, with the Mind Stone amplifying his awareness.

Tony opened his eyes and muttered, “Alright. Let’s go.”

Nanites surged from beneath his skin, climbing over his body like liquid armor, reshaping into the Snow Edition Suit. Matte white. Streamlined. Built for Arctic operation. The faceplate slid down with a soft hiss, HUD lighting up instantly.

“Hermes, lock on to the energy signature.”

//Online. Coordinates locked. Energy spike consistent with Infinity resonance, 1.3 kilometers northeast.//

“Then that’s our direction.”

Tony launched into the sky, propulsion system flaring silently beneath his boots as the suit adjusted for altitude and temperature. Snow parted in a spiral beneath him, the landscape shrinking into a field of white and shadow.

The HUD blinked in rhythmic pulses, a glowing trail etched across the digital map.

The white landscape stretched endlessly below, broken only by ridgelines and shadowed valleys. Wind resistance adjusted automatically.

//Hermes: Energy signature growing stronger. Distance to source: 1.3 kilometers.//

The terrain shifted beneath him, less uniform, more fractured. He adjusted altitude, descending slightly as the pulse led him toward a low basin surrounded by ice-crusted peaks.

Then he saw it.

A shallow depression in the ice, nearly invisible from the air. But his sensors lit up the moment he passed overhead.

//Lock confirmed. Energy signature detected. Depth: approximately 14.2 meters.//

Tony hovered in place, scanning. There were no structures. No wreckage. Just the ice and beneath it, the low, unmistakable hum of Infinity-level energy. He could feel the Mind Stone in his head throbbing, giving him that old headache. 

He descended gently, boots touching down with a soft crunch. 

He knelt, pressing one palm to the surface. The HUD lit up again, a faint blue glow pulsing beneath the ice directly below him. Solid. Undisturbed. Sealed in time.

“Found you.”

He tapped into the deep scan mode, feeding more power into Hermes’ quantum sensors. Readings came in clean. The Tesseract was here. No container. No interference. Just raw energy trapped beneath layers of frozen earth.

But it was starting to shift. Reacting to him... The Mind Stone, to be precise.

Tiny threads of blue light flickered under the surface, like veins of electricity trying to reach the air. The suit’s readings spiked for a split second before stabilizing again.

//Warning: localized spatial distortion detected. Minimal, but increasing.//

Tony stood. No time to wait.

“Time to dig.”

Panels slid open across his forearms, releasing a set of micro-excavation drones. They launched instantly, spinning into the ice in a precise formation. Laser drills flicked on, boring a tight vertical shaft through the frost.

Steam hissed upward in curling tendrils.

Below, the blue glow began to pulse faster.

The Tesseract was waking up.

The drilling continued for approximately half an hour. Tony took it slow and carefully controlled the drills because one wrong move and the Infinity Stone might activate and sent him somewhere else or in some other part of Multiverse.

The final layer of ice broke apart in a hiss of steam. Blue light flared from below as the drones hovered in formation, scanning the cavity they'd just cleared.

There it was.

The Tesseract.

Hovering slightly above the fractured floor, glowing with steady pulses of energy. It didn’t rest on anything. It didn’t need to. It floated as if it existed outside the rules of the terrain around it.

“Hermes, deploy containment protocol. Delta pattern. No direct contact.” Tony ordered.

The nanites on his left forearm shifted, flowing forward in a tight spiral. The drones reconfigured around the cube, forming a synchronized field. From the swirling nanites, a container took shape: compact, angular, reinforced with vibranium mesh and lined with energy-dampening nodes.

It floated down into the pit, guided by Hermes’ micro-thrusters.

The Tesseract reacted. Light pulsed faster. Energy flared at its corners, flickering toward the drones.

“Easy,” Tony said. “We’re not here to pick a fight.”

The container opened midair. Panels extended outward. Magnetic locks engaged with a muted thump. The drones adjusted their formation, creating a directed null field to suppress the flare.

The cube drifted into place on its own.

No touch. No contact.

The container sealed around it instantly. A hex-patterned shield shimmered to life, enclosing the cube in a tight web of energy insulation. The glow dulled inside, steady but contained.

“Status,” Tony said.

Hermes responded in his ear. “Containment secure. Energy emissions are stable. No leakage.”

Tony didn’t look away from the shaft. “Good. Tag the site, mark it cleansed. No trace left behind.”

//Confirmed. Wiping residual data from the local grid. No satellite ping.//

Tony turned and took off, containment unit secured at his side. Snow scattered beneath him as he flew low and fast, angling back toward the ridge.

He had what he came for.

Now he just had to keep it out of the wrong hands or maybe find a way to use it for a better purpose.

...[Night] [11:00 PM]...

[Horizon Facility – Medical Bay]

Steve Rogers lay in a sterile med bay, suspended in a narrow recovery cradle. Bio-nanites are already circulating in his bloodstream. Real-time vitals scrolled across a slim projection screen beside him: heart rate steady, body temp rising back to baseline, neural activity fluctuating just above coma level. 

Melina used the drones to change Steve's clothes.

Tony stood near the foot of the bed, still suited, helmet retracted. His eyes scanned the data. He said nothing. He arrived 10 minutes ago and, after placing the Tesseract into his hidden vault, he came straight to the med-bay.

Peggy sat beside Steve, one hand resting on the edge of the cradle. Her fingers hovered just above his, never quite touching. Her expression was unreadable. 

Howard was also there, sitting on the couch near the window, sipping a cup of coffee.

“The nanites are doing their job,” Tony muttered. “Circulation’s stabilizing, neural synapses are sparking on pattern. If this keeps up, he’ll wake up within the hour.”

Melina watched from near the wall, arms crossed, silent. She didn’t interrupt. Her eyes never left the screen.

Peggy leaned closer to Steve. “Come on, soldier. You’re not done.”

Tony took a deep breath, "Don't worry. He'll be fine."

...

[One Hour Later]

The rain tapped steadily against the reinforced windows, soft and rhythmic. The room stayed quiet. 

Then the heart rate monitor spiked.

Peggy sat upright, fingers tightening on the bed’s edge.

Howard rose from the couch, coffee forgotten.

Tony stepped forward. He focused on the monitor. Neural activity was climbing. Fast.

Steve’s body tensed.

Then, with a sudden jolt, he sat up.

His breath came fast and sharp. His hands curled into fists. Eyes wide. Alert. Defensive.

He swung his legs off the bed and stood on the floor, instantly in a combat stance. Shoulders squared. Chest rising with quick, steady breaths.

His eyes darted around the room.

Strange walls. Machines. Rain tapping on the glass. Unknown faces.

His fists clenched tighter.

Then his gaze landed on her.

Peggy.

She stood without a word.

Steve’s stance faltered.

His eyes locked onto hers, frozen for a beat like the world had stopped moving. His breathing slowed. A flicker of recognition sparked in his expression, cutting through the confusion.

His voice came low, rough. “Peggy...?”

Her eyes shimmered. She nodded. “Yeah. I’m here.”

He took a step forward. Then another.

“Is this real?” he asked.

She gave a shaky smile. “It’s real.”

Steve’s arms dropped slightly, his whole posture changing as the weight of the moment hit him. He looked like he didn’t trust his legs to hold him anymore.

He stumbled.

Peggy caught him.

He didn’t speak. He just held onto her, arms wrapping tight like letting go would break the world. Peggy hugged him back as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Howard let out a breath and muttered, “I’ll be damned.”

Tony whispered to his dad, "I think we should give them a moment... alone."

...

As they stepped outside and were about to go to the main building, Tony's vision blurred. He fell to his knees and felt as if his head was about to split apart. Legion sensed the spike in his neural activity and instantly activated the armor. But Tony lost his consciousness...

"Tony!"

Howard and Melina rushed to hold him...

....

AN: Time to pick up the pace a bit.

[Ironman] Ch: 82 [Out of Ice]

The floor shuddered as the hangar doors began to open, icy wind roaring in like a living thing. Snow whipped through the gap, blinding white against the cold steel of the plane’s interior.

Howard stood, the watch on his wrist pulsing once before the suit flowed over him like a second skin, metal wrapping tight around his frame with a hiss of locked joints and a low hum of energy.

Peggy looked up at him, startled. “You’re not serious...”

He grabbed her without waiting. “Hold on.”

The blast from the thrusters kicked up loose papers and scattered cups as he launched them both out of the plane. The cold hit instantly, biting and fierce, but the armor adjusted. A thin energy shield appeared around Peggy. Wind howled past. Below, a sprawling patch of white stretched across the landscape, broken by steel pylons, heat tents, and the faint glow of energy fields.

Howard’s visor lit up, a HUD flickering to life. “Hermes, mark the LZ.”

A soft chime. Coordinates locked. Descent path calculated.

He angled them down. Snow-covered ridges blurred past. Peggy clung to him, her breath short but steady, eyes locked on the ground coming into view.

They touched down in a crouch at the edge of the dig site. Howard let her go gently, metal plates withdrawing from his arms as the suit receded partially, retreating back into standby mode. 

Peggy took a shaky breath and straightened.

Around them, movement stirred.

Melina stepped out from one of the tents, wearing a thick winter coat over reinforced body armor. Her hair was pulled back, frost clinging to the edges. Several Widows flanked her, rifles slung, watching the skies.

“You’re late,” Melina said.

“We came as fast as we could,” Howard replied, already scanning the site.

Just beyond the line of heat lamps, a drone buzzed past, its red lights blinking as it zipped toward a scaffold near the ice trench. Another followed, sweeping the perimeter, building a silent grid of surveillance.

Tony’s voice crackled over the comms. “About time you showed up. We’ve got about six hours of daylight left, and this place isn’t getting any warmer.”

“Where are you?” Howard asked.

"The dig site. We are close," He replied.

"C'mon," Melina said, giving them a slight nod.

Peggy followed, her boots crunching against the packed snow. The wind cut through her coat, but she barely noticed. Her focus was fixed ahead, where floodlights cast sharp beams across the excavation site.

Steel scaffolding framed the edge of a deep trench carved into the ice. Orange tarps flapped on support poles, half-buried under snowfall. Generators rumbled nearby, their cables snaking across the ground like frozen veins. 

Howard moved ahead, eyes scanning the layout. He tapped his watch. The nanites moved, revealing his face.

They reached the edge of the trench. Peggy looked down. A rectangular shaft opened beneath them, descending through layers of packed ice and exposed rock. Warm light bled up from within.

Tony was at the bottom of the trench, crouched beside a thick column of machinery, his face illuminated by the glow of an arc reactor core embedded in the central console. Cables ran from it in all directions, pulsing with a steady blue light that made the frost on the walls shimmer. He was working on the interface.

“Welcome to the coldest damn rescue mission in history,” he said without looking up.

Howard dropped down beside him with a hiss of hydraulic brakes, the nanites on his boots anchoring him to the platform. Peggy descended more cautiously, climbing down a ladder until she reached the lowest level. Melina stayed near the opening above.

Tony stood and turned to face them, brushing snow off his shoulders. “We hit the chamber wall about forty minutes ago. It’s deep. Too thick for conventional drills, but Arc-based plasma cutters are holding up. We’re about twenty meters away from breaching the containment shell.”

“Any sign of structural collapse?” Howard asked, stepping up to the central readout.

“Negative,” Tony said. “The ice is denser than we thought, but it’s stable."

Tony turned to Peggy, giving her a once-over with a quick, unreadable glance before holding out his hand.

“Ah! Agent Carter,” he said. “Tony Stark. I’ve seen you kick those Oscorp agent's ass back the base. You were good.”

Peggy took his hand, her grip firm despite the cold. “You’ve got your father’s charm.”

Tony gave a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I try not to let it ruin me.”

He let go and turned back to the control panel, already busy. “We’re almost there. Final layer of ice is thin. The arc cutters have kept the integrity intact... no melting around the edges. That’s the good news.”

Howard stepped up beside him. “And the bad?”

Tony tapped a few keys. “The readings are fuzzy. He’s deep in cryogenic suspension. No life signs... but no decay either. Like the cold preserved everything. Which, biologically, makes zero sense, but I stopped questioning miracles after my third lab accident. But if I were to guess, it's the serum that kept him intact.”

Peggy moved closer to the edge of the trench, eyes locked on the narrow passage that led into the excavation site. Floodlights angled down into a chamber where machines had carefully carved away layers of snow and ice, exposing a large, uneven block.

Inside it, faintly visible through cloudy frost...

A man.

His arms were at his sides. Shoulders square. Head tilted slightly forward. The red, white, and blue of his uniform was still visible beneath the frost.

And the shield.

Strapped to his left arm. Faded. Scuffed. But whole.

Peggy took a slow breath. Cold mist formed around her face as she breathed. There he was, frozen in a block of ice. 

Peggy stepped forward, her voice quiet. “Is he alive?”

Tony quickly ran another scan. "Yup. Alright, let's bring him out, and then we'll do the melting procedure." He tapped his earpiece. "Melina, have the Bio-Nanites ready."

"Will do," She replied.

The winch system groaned as the suspension cables lowered into place, guided by drones and pulleys anchored along the trench wall. Tony and Howard worked in sync, securing the block of ice with magnetic clamps as its base was gently lifted from the ice cradle.

“Steady,” Howard muttered, adjusting the tension.

The block hovered upward, silent except for the hum of machinery and the soft crackle of frost fracturing along its surface. Floodlights tracked it, casting long shadows across the excavation site.

Peggy backed away as the icy tomb rose into view. She couldn’t tear her eyes from it. From him.

Steve.

His outline was clearer now: face pale but intact, mouth slightly open like he’d just exhaled. The frost curled along his cheekbones, clinging to the seam of his mask. It didn’t seem possible that he could still be whole, let alone alive.

The block settled onto a reinforced platform beside the trench, surrounded by a semicircle of emitters, their blue LEDs blinking in slow rhythm. Melina arrived with a team in tow, Widows now wearing insulated suits and carrying sealed canisters marked with Stark Industries' logo.

“Bio-Nanites, batch 23-K,” she said, handing one of the canisters to Howard. “Designed to repair cell degradation and stimulate neural activity. They’ve been tested on humans but... not someone who’s been frozen for seventy years.”

Tony didn’t look up. “That’s the fun part. Dad, you are on the hard part.”

Howard keyed the interface, activating the emitter array. A low vibration spread through the air. The emitters flared to life, forming a lattice of blue light around the block. Heat radiated inward, slowly, carefully, and controlled down to the microdegree. Not enough to damage tissue. Just enough to begin the thaw.

Steam hissed as the outermost layer of ice cracked.

The shield emerged first, frost sliding off its surface like snow melting on warm stone. Then the fabric of his uniform was still intact, still deep navy blue with muted red lines. The star on his chest gleamed faintly under the floodlights.

Peggy stood still, fists clenched at her sides.

The mist thickened, swirling around the platform. The ice thinned fast now, inner layers collapsing into water. Puddles formed at Steve’s boots. The shield strap snapped free. It clanged softly on the metal floor. 

It took 30 minutes to bring him out of the ice without harming his body. Tony activated the bio-nanites.

The bio-nanites pulsed in silvery threads as they sank into Steve’s skin, weaving across his chest and arms, dispersing beneath the surface. His body twitched once, faint and involuntary, then stilled again. Monitors beeped steadily. Howard kept a close eye on the vitals streaming across his HUD. Heartbeat. Respiration. Neural flickers. All faint, but present.

Tony stepped back, removing his gloves. “He’s alive. No brain decay. No organ collapse. The serum kept everything on ice… literally.”

Peggy stepped closer, her eyes scanning Steve’s face. “When will he wake up?” She was barely holding back her emotions, but she knew that she couldn't just hug him right now, considering his situation. So, he controlled herself.

Tony’s expression tightened. “Could be hours. Could be days. Could be longer. His brain’s intact, but the shock of revival... that’s uncharted territory. We’ll take him to Horizon. It’s isolated, secured, and fully equipped.”

Melina motioned to her team. “Extraction transport is ready. I’ll take you both.”

"Yeah, that'd be great. We'll be able to monitor him better there," Howard agreed.

Peggy turned and followed Melina toward the waiting transport jet as drones created an energy shield around Steve and carried him to the jet.

Tony didn’t move.

Peggy looked back at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. I’ve got something else to track.”

Howard frowned. “The Tesseract?”

[Ironman] Ch: 81 [No More Leashes]

[Location: SHIELD HQ – War Room, Washington D.C]

The silence following Howard’s question was long and loaded.

Fury stood up and walked to the glass wall, one hand in his coat pocket, the other resting on the wall. Outside, it was dark. He could see the blinking lights from the police cars and the rush of military vehicles outside. 

He didn’t turn to face them when he finally answered.

“Only time will tell,” His voice was low. Controlled. The kind of tone he used right before issuing a game-changing directive. “Right now, debating whether Shadow Legion is enemies or allies isn’t our priority. They’re doing what we should’ve done years ago. That’s on us.”

He slowly turned back to the table.

“Our job right now is to stabilize the fallout before every tin-pot warlord and opportunistic politician tries to fill the power vacuum.”

He looked pointedly at Peggy, then Howard, then Hank.

“The World Security Council is compromised. Half are dead, arrested, or in hiding. Shield's been used like a puppet for years. No more. This is our chance. We take the reins. We rebuild it the right way.”

Peggy leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing. “You want Shield to be fully independent?”

“I want it uncorrupted,” Fury said flatly. “Answering to the people, not to the shadows behind glass. No more greasy handshakes behind closed doors. No more missions dictated by fear, money, or backroom politics.”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “And who exactly puts you in charge?”

Fury walked to the central console and tapped the screen. Data cascaded down... arrest logs, financial seizures, confirmed links between WSC members and the black projects exposed by Osborn’s confession.

“They just did,” Fury said. “Shadow Legion knocked over the chessboard. That means we choose how to set it back up. Shield’s global networks are still intact. We have access to clean intelligence, clean funding, and boots that haven’t been bought.”

Howard nodded slowly. “You want a clean slate.”

“No,” Fury said. “I want a loaded slate. With good people. With people who won’t hesitate to do the right thing just because a politician or a senator might get their hands dirty.”

Peggy crossed her arms. “You’re talking about rewriting the chain of command.”

“I’m talking about taking it back,” Fury said. “For good. Shield was meant to protect the world from threats it didn’t understand. Well, now we understand. We’ve seen what happens when oversight becomes manipulation.”

There was a long pause.

Howard glanced toward the screen. Footage continued to roll of cities erupting in protest and celebration alike. Entire continents shifting beneath the weight of a new world order.

“So what do you need from us?” Howard finally asked.

Fury smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

“I need you to help me build a new chain. One that no one can break. Not with money. Not with fear. Not with lies.”

He turned back to the screen, watching the chaos unfold, a storm he hadn’t started but now intended to ride.

“We don’t let this world fall apart,” he said. “We let it fall into place.”

The meeting continued on for a few hours...

[After the meeting]

The heavy doors to the war room hissed open as Peggy and Hank left the room. The moment the doors shut behind them, Fury turned slowly toward the only one who hadn’t moved.

Howard Stark.

Still leaning against the edge of the circular table, Howard had his arms crossed, gaze fixed on one of the overhead monitors. His jaw worked slightly, like he was grinding a thought behind clenched teeth. He didn’t look at Fury when he spoke.

“Not bad for a first draft of a revolution, huh?”

Fury stepped closer, arms folded behind his back, voice low. “You held your own during that attack on the helicarrier.”

Howard finally turned his head. “Still got a few moves left in the tank.”

Fury’s eye narrowed slightly. “More than a few. The suit you used… it was advanced. Fluid-based nanites. Smart-weapons. Adaptive shielding. That wasn’t something out of Stark Industries, is it?”

Howard didn’t flinch. Instead, he looked down at his wrist.

The vintage-looking watch on his arm gave the faintest shimmer as he tapped its surface. The nanites beneath the metal pulsed, barely visible through a quick skin-thin flicker of blue light.

“It’s not mine,” Howard said simply. “Not really.”

Fury raised an eyebrow. “Then whose is it?”

Howard paused.

Looked up.

And said with perfect calm, “A gift.”

Fury stepped closer, his tone sharpening. “From who?”

Howard’s expression didn’t change. He just smiled... just a little, that old Stark grin with none of the warmth.

“Someone who believed I needed to stop being a relic.”

Fury let the words hang in the air, the unspoken tension vibrating between them.

“You’re saying someone gave you bleeding-edge tech like that… as a favor?”

Howard turned his wrist slightly, and the watch shimmered again, this time forming a brief outline of the full armor’s structure in the air... holographic, green, beautiful.

“No. Not a favor,” Howard said. “A reminder.”

Fury narrowed his eye again. “A reminder of what?”

Howard looked at him. Dead serious.

“That we’re out of time.”

He let that sink in, then deactivated the display with a flick.

Fury crossed his arms again, frustration prickling behind his words. “You know, if Shield operatives had tech like that... hell, if even ten of my best people had it back during the attacks, things would’ve turned out a lot cleaner. We might still have that symbiote in our possession.”

Howard tilted his head slightly. “Maybe. Or maybe they’d have become just another batch of super-soldiers on a leash. And we both know how that ends.”

Fury said nothing.

Howard closed the hologram and stood up, stretching his arms.

“Nick… this suit, this tech... it’s not something you just hand out like rifles. You don’t deploy it unless the whole world’s already on fire.”

“And is it?” Fury asked.

Howard held his gaze.

“Getting there.”

Fury exhaled slowly, his voice quieter now. “Then maybe it’s time you tell me who’s really behind it. Because the Shadow Legion agents were using similar suits."

Howard gave a dry laugh and turned toward the window, hands slipping into his pockets.

“You know what they say about ghosts, Nick,” he said over his shoulder. “You don’t chase them.”

He walked out without another word.

Fury stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door.

Then he muttered under his breath.

“You don’t chase them… but sooner or later, they stop hiding.”

...

[Next Day – En Route to the Arctic – Howard Stark’s Private Plane] [9:42 AM]

The quiet hum of the engines was the only sound filling the cabin.

Peggy sat near the window, rigid in her seat, arms crossed tight across her chest. She hadn’t said more than a few words since takeoff.

Her foot tapped.

Her hand clenched the armrest.

She stared out the window like it owed her answers.

Howard, seated across from her, was sipping coffee and watching her with a mix of patience and concern. The third time she exhaled sharply, he set the mug down.

“You’ve tapped out about six Morse Code variations in the last twenty minutes,” he said gently. “If you start spelling SOS, I might have to jump.”

Peggy didn’t smile.

Didn’t even look at him.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the clouds. “Seventy years, Howard.”

“I know.”

“He’s been alone. Frozen. God knows what kind of damage... neurological, psychological, physical…” She exhaled sharply, her voice cracking despite her effort to hold it together. “What if he’s not the same man anymore?”

Howard leaned forward, setting the cup down. “Peg...”

“What if...?” She couldn't finish her words. 

That made Howard pause.

She finally turned to him. Her eyes weren’t wet, but they were brimming. Years of strength holding the flood back.

Peggy looked down at her hands. “But what if he doesn’t even remember me?"

Howard shifted, leaning his arms on his knees. “Look. I’ve known Steve a long time. Not as long as you, sure, but long enough. And here’s what I do know: that man is stubborn. Ridiculously, stupidly stubborn. If there was ever a person who could stay alive and keep his soul intact through seven decades of ice and isolation, it’s Steve Rogers.”

He sat back again and offered a crooked smile. “Besides, even if he's injured... The one who found him has technology far beyond your imagination. Trust me. Things will get better. Don't lose hope."

Peggy tried to smile.

It didn’t quite reach her eyes.

She glanced down at the small photo sticking out from the inside flap of her coat, a faded black-and-white of her and Steve, laughing on a base somewhere before everything changed. She touched it with two fingers, briefly.

“I lost him once,” she said quietly. “I’m not ready to do it again.”

Howard looked out the window. The ice fields below were beginning to appear between breaks in the cloud cover.

“You won’t have to,” he said. “This time, you’re bringing him home.”

A soft ping echoed through the cabin.

The pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “Approaching drop zone. ETA ten minutes. Coordinates confirmed. Weather is clear but visibility may reduce on descent.”

---

AN: 1 more chapter to wrap up Captain America. Then, focus on Stark Expo. Time to meet Sue.

[Ironman] Ch: 80 [Gods and Ghosts]

[Meeting Room – Evening]

Tony sat at the end of the long table, leaning forward, elbows on the surface. He wore a dark shirt and jeans. Melina stood near the wall screen, her arms crossed. Yelena sat across from Tony, tapping her fingers on the table. Natasha sat beside him.

Melina was the first to speak. "I got what we needed from the assassin. The Mandarin is in France. Lyon. An old fortress converted into a compound. Underground, fortified. And he has something else."

Tony looked up. "What is it?"

"Ten rings," Melina said. "Not symbolic. Magical. Real magic. Ancient tech or something close to it. That's how he's been staying ahead of everyone. The rings make him untouchable."

'Damn it! Those fucking rings! Haaa...' Tony blinked. "Great. Magic rings. As if one mad billionaire wasn't enough."

"They don't behave like standard tech," Melina said. "The assassin said he watched the Mandarin melt a steel tank with a wave of his hand. Then survived a missile to the face like it was nothing."

Tony nodded slowly. "We'll figure it out. Thanks, Melina."

Then Yelena spoke. Her tone was clipped. "Ross gave me everything. Three sealed bunkers in New York. Full of mutated freaks. Failed experiments. They're still active. And worse... he was planning to use them on Shield and use that incident to take over."

Tony's jaw tightened.

"But that's not all," Yelena added. "He has a place. A base. Celestial Island, somewhere in the Indian Ocean. I tried to find it. No luck. Satellite scans came up blank. Ross said it's not just an island. He said... It's a giant alien rock."

Tony's eyes widened.

Natasha noticed. "You know something."

Tony sat back slowly, mind racing. "Yeah. I do."

He pulled up another screen and typed quickly. Images flashed... giant stone structures, red glowing rock, massive formations. He discovered it a few months back while testing his remote armor and drones.

"That island... It's not just an island. It's the body of a Celestial named Tiamut. He tried to emerge from the Earth, but the Eternals stopped him. Turned him into stone. Now, his body just sits there in the middle of the ocean."

Natasha frowned. "Wait. Celestial? Eternals? Who are they?"

Tony looked at her. "Big cosmic beings. Think gods... but weirder. They plant seeds inside planets. When the planet reaches a certain point of evolution, the seed hatches and a Celestial is born. Earth was one of those planets. But the Eternals, who were supposed to protect us, turned on their mission and stopped it. That's why Tiamut's stuck. Half-formed."

"Wow! Wait a sec," Yelena's eyes widened. "Like real gods? You mean heaven and hell are real?"

"Well, yeah. Like gods, considering their insane power. As for heaven, I don't know much, but as for hell, yup! Hell is pretty real and worse than what those fantasy books say." Tony explained briefly. 

Yelena's eyes narrowed. "And Ross set up a base on it? That insane fucker! What if it suddenly wakes up?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "And if he knew what that island really is, then he's way ahead of the rest of the world. That place is rich in natural adamantium. Stronger than vibranium. The whole island is sitting on that stuff. And don't ask how I know it."

Natasha crossed her arms. "So why hasn't anyone else taken it?"

Tony leaned back in his chair. "Because almost no one knows what it is. Ross kept it quiet. Probably only told a handful of people. That means if we move fast, we can take it before it becomes another war zone."

Melina nodded. "What's the plan?"

Tony looked around the room. The map zoomed in on the Indian Ocean.

"We'll handle Mandarin later. Right now," He turned to Natasha. "You are behind the computer again. Make three teams and take down those bunkers. Yelena, smash up Ross. Use truth serum if needed. Find out who else knows about that island. Take them out if necessary and start an expedition with the researcher team. Melina..." He pulled up a map of the Arctic region with a big red circle on it. "Take a team. Set up a temporary base there. That's all. Move out."

...

[Midnight] [Private Lab]

There were various floating holographic displays around the place. The hum of machinery underscored the rhythm of Tony’s work. Sparks danced off his gauntlet as he adjusted the molecular binders on a suspended humanoid frame.

Long limbs, a feminine silhouette, flawless synthetic skin still half-transparent, revealing layers of nanite muscle structures beneath.

Hovering nearby was a hard-light projection of Elena.

“You’re shaping me up to look like a model, boss,” Elena said, voice rich with sarcasm and a smooth, sultry British accent. “Should I start practicing my catwalk or just assume I’ll be parked in a glass case for admiration?”

Tony smirked, tightening a filament thread inside the synthetic arm. “You want tactical efficiency or centerfold aesthetics? Pick one. I’m doing both.”

The projection shimmered as Elena tilted her head, mock thoughtful. “I suppose you want me to say 'tactical efficiency', but you’ve been sculpting these hips like they owe you rent.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “You said you wanted full articulation. That includes balance and weight distribution. Hips happen to help.”

“Mmhmm,” Elena replied. “You didn’t need to make the cheek implants modular, Tony.”

“Everything’s modular,” Tony muttered. “That’s the point. You want to switch chassis mid-mission, I’m not going to stop and unscrew your butt panel.”

The AI let out a low laugh. “God, I’ve missed this kind of banter.”

"You are having too much fun, aren't you? And there's poor Hermes, your senior, without a body. Feel sad for the guy," Tony said with a low chuckle.

Elena flickered into a lounging pose midair, reclining on an invisible surface with one arm behind her head, the other playing lazily with a floating string of light. She said, "Legion has armor and suits. Hermes is just like... That oldie can control everything. But I was made for versatility. So, my performance will increase by multiple folds with a new body."

"Yup! Now, let's select your hair style and iris color..."

Tony kept customizing the body as if he were playing Sims.

“You always know how to make a girl feel special, boss. Custom nanite muscle systems, seamless sensory feedback matrix, modular everything..." Elena chimed in. "And if my calculations are right, you are going to use the natural adamantium in place of vibranium, right?"

"Yes," He replied. "Vibranium’s flashy and rare, yeah. But natural adamantium from a dead Celestial's body? That’s the real deal. Indestructible. Stable at the molecular level under nearly any conditions. No degradation. But I still gotta run experiments on it since I don't have much info on how different it will be from the adamantium I know. Well, if things go right, I’ll weave it through your skeleton and core plates. Reinforce the whole structure.”

Tony activated a deeper scan across Elena’s synthetic frame. Sparks crackled softly. A mechanical arm descended from the ceiling, laser-measuring the flex points of the nanite-woven muscle layers.

Elena stretched one leg experimentally on the support cradle, testing torque resistance. “And what about combat input routing? You said you'd add that cognitive reflex layer.”

Tony nodded, not looking up. “Already integrated. You'll have neural-latency response under 0.03 seconds. That’s faster than most enhanced operatives.”

Elena's projection glowed with a touch of amusement. “So I’m officially faster than Natasha.”

“She still hits harder,” Tony muttered. “Well... depending on the suit.”

A second projection popped in near the terminal... Hermes, flickering in with a restrained, minimalist form. No body, just a floating core of light and a neutral tone.

“I would like to remind you,” Hermes said dryly, “that having no limbs is not equivalent to lacking contribution. I am currently monitoring 164 ZB global data streams, six satellite trajectories, and three hostile AI signatures, which I just snubbed.”

Elena replied with a mocking tone. “And yet you still sound like a butler with no hobbies.”

Hermes responded without emotion. “Efficiency requires no flair.”

Tony shook his head with a grin. “You two keep flirting, I’m going to weld your operating systems together and call it an accident.”

Elena tilted her head. “Tempting. But let's keep our codebases separate until at least the third date.”

...

[Meanwhile...] [Location: SHIELD HQ – Washington D.C]

The command center buzzed with controlled chaos.

Dozens of agents moved through the halls like ants in a disturbed colony. Emergency meetings were nonstop. Alerts poured in by the minute. The global infrastructure of power, wealth, and influence was collapsing under the weight of exposed corruption.

At the heart of it, inside the primary war room, four of SHIELD’s most formidable minds sat around a circular display table.

Nick Fury.

Howard Stark.

Peggy Carter.

Hank Pym.

On the screen before them: red pins covering every continent. Labels blinked in and out: “ARRESTED,” “DEAD,” “ASSETS SEIZED,” “MISSING.”

Fury stood with his arms crossed, the lines on his face deeper than usual. “Two senators have committed suicide in the last twenty-four hours. One tried to flee with a private security team, but somebody intercepted them mid-air. Now there’s no wreckage. Just… nothing.”

Howard sipped black coffee, frowning as he scrolled through a data tablet. “This kind of coordination doesn’t come from amateurs. This wasn’t just whistleblowing. This was surgical. Weaponized leaks. Not a hacker with a conscience... someone with a plan.”

Peggy leaned forward, “We’ve confirmed over 300 illegal black-ops operations dismantled in three days. Laundering trails burned to ash. Medical experiments exposed. Whole research labs gone dark.”

Hank Pym tapped his fingers on the table, irritated. “You call that a mess? That’s divine intervention with military efficiency. This was someone with global infrastructure, elite field assets, and tech that no government has access to. Not even us.”

Fury grunted. “You mean someone like us.”

“No,” Howard said finally, lifting his eyes. “Someone smarter.”

They all turned to him.

Peggy raised an eyebrow. “What are you thinking, Howard?”

Howard set the tablet down slowly. “As I said before. This group is really pro. They left no trail. Money rerouted through humanitarian fronts. Surgical strikes with no civilian casualties. Shadow Legion, huh? Advanced suits with weapons beyond anything we have ever seen. You've seen the footage of Ross's facility, right? Not to mention their insane healing capabilities, which are beyond unbelievable... Haa... I think I've got an idea of who this group is. But I can't say anything until I am 100% sure."

He looked toward Peggy and then to Fury.

"What's your take on Shadow Legion, Fury? You think they are a threat or maybe friends? I need an honest answer," Howard looked toward Fury.

Another book completed

Batman x Ironman is now completed. I have unlocked all the chapters for all tiers.

Now, I'll focus on Ironman starting tomorrow. Sorry for the delay. Had to finish this one.

[Batman x Ironman] Ch: 106 [Epilogue]

[Arctic Circle - Moments After Impact]

The blizzard howled across the frozen wasteland, snow swirling in angry gusts as the wind tore across the crater. But above it all, something faster than sound sliced through the sky.

Kara.

Her blonde hair whipped behind her like a comet's trail as she flew, eyes glowing faintly with concern. She had seen the burning object from orbit. Something in her bones told her it wasn’t a simple meteor. Something in her heart told her it mattered.

She hovered over the crater now, snow and steam rising in a thick cloud around the blackened vessel. It wasn’t Kryptonian. Not quite alien either. The metal was strange, groaning with heat and energy, its surface scarred by interdimensional friction.

Kara landed lightly on the crater’s edge. Her boots crunched on the frozen earth. She took a breath and stepped forward.

The air was thick with residual energy. Her vision shifted to X-ray. She scanned the wreck.

Her heart nearly stopped.

There was a figure inside.

Human. Male. Heartbeat faint.

Familiar.

"No way," she whispered, voice almost breaking. "No. It can't be."

With a surge of power, she drove her fist into the metal shell. It buckled like paper under her strength. She tore the twisted alloy apart, steam hissing, heat burning against her skin. She didn’t stop.

Not until the body was revealed.

His chest rose. Barely.

He was covered in frost, half-naked, riddled with injuries. Burn marks. Fractures. Cracks across his skin that pulsed with fading golden light.

Kara dropped to her knees beside him.

"Bruce..." Her voice trembled. She brushed snow from his face. His beard had grown. He looked older. Weathered. But it was him. It was him.

She didn't waste another second.

Kara scooped him into her arms, wrapping him in her cape to protect him from the cold. Then she launched into the sky, a blur of light cutting across the arctic winds.

[Earth – Pamela’s Sanctuary]

Hidden deep in the biotechnological jungle she had designed, Pamela Isley’s sanctuary was alive in every sense. Trees responded to heartbeats. Flowers bloomed in response to emotional signatures. And the air itself carried particles that could read cellular decay and shift in real-time to combat infection.

It was the safest place on Earth for someone like Bruce.

Kara landed at the entrance. As soon as her boots touched the mossy floor, the plants reacted. The vines curled back, recognizing her aura, and the living doors parted to let her in.

Pamela looked up from her workbench, where she had been tending to a rare hybrid blossom that only bloomed in anti-radiation zones. The moment her eyes met Kara’s, her posture shifted.

"What happened?" she asked, moving forward.

Kara didn’t speak. She simply pulled back the cape to reveal Bruce’s limp, frost-covered body.

Pamela froze for a beat, then her scientist instincts kicked in.

"Put him in the chrysalis chamber," she instructed, turning sharply. "Now."

Kara followed her through a narrow path to a room pulsing with green and gold light. Bioluminescent roots formed a shallow pod in the center, designed for deep cellular healing. She gently placed Bruce in the basin, the vines immediately reacting to his touch.

Pamela grabbed a scanner from the wall and ran it across his body.

"What the hell… his cell structure is saturated with non-native quantum energy," she muttered. Her eyes narrowed. "Fragments of cosmic law. He’s been somewhere outside the multiverse."

Kara looked at her, stunned. "You can tell all that from your scan?"

Pamela didn't look up. "Bruce’s biology is one of a kind. Kryptonian hybrid with Infinity-based augmentations. I helped design most of his regenerative protocols back in the day and he taught me certain things. These readings…" She paused, adjusting the scanner's frequency. "They’re way beyond that."

She placed two fingers to his neck, where the faintest pulse still beat. The vines around the pod slowly extended and wrapped around his limbs, not to restrain, but to stabilize, syncing with his vitals.

"He’s alive," she said, her voice softening. "Barely. But his cells are unraveling. It’s like his body is… incompatible with reality. Something’s been keeping him together, but now that he’s here, that glue is falling apart."

Pamela moved quickly, selecting a series of botanical vials—bright green, golden, one glowing faint blue.

"I can stabilize him. But his state is delicate, Kara. If anyone finds out he’s back like this… in this condition…"

Kara swallowed. "You think someone might try to kill him?"

Pamela finally looked her in the eyes.

"I know someone will."

Kara opened her mouth, then closed it.

She knew Pamela was right.

"He needs time to heal," Pamela said, returning to the chamber. "And he won’t get that with reporters, gods, and assassins swarming the moment they hear his name."

"So what do we do?" Kara asked quietly.

Pamela’s voice was steady.

"We keep this quiet. But the thing is... We need to take him to the League's base. There's only so much my plants can do. We need the Lazarus Pit."

[League of Shadows Outpost – Nanda Parbat]

The mist clung to the ancient mountain walls like breath on cold glass. Nanda Parbat was quiet tonight, too quiet for a place that often pulsed with the silent tread of assassins, monks, and warriors of the hidden world.

But that was intentional.

Because tonight, the League had cleared its ranks.

By order of Talia al Ghul, no one but her most trusted stood guard.

Pamela's message had arrived an hour earlier. Encrypted. Urgent. The only content: a pulse signature and a phrase that struck like lightning.

He’s alive. And he needs the Pit.

Now, Talia stood at the entrance of the Lazarus Sanctum, her emerald eyes hard with restrained emotion. Behind her, torches flickered, casting gold across ancient stone. She wore her League armor, but no mask. She wasn’t hiding today. She was afraid, excited, and somewhat happy. 'He's alive.' 

The wind stirred.

And then, from the sky, came a streak of light.

Kara descended, cloak snapping in the mountain air. She landed lightly beside Pamela, who held a small biosphere, a living cocoon of vine and bio-resin. Inside, Bruce’s body was curled in a fetal position, his breath shallow, his skin pallid and faintly glowing with golden light.

Talia stepped forward.

She didn’t say a word.

Her eyes locked with Pamela’s.

Pamela gave a single nod.

Talia reached out and gently placed her palm over the biosphere. Her fingers trembled.

Bruce shifted inside.

A faint gasp.

Her throat tightened.

"Is he..." she began, but the words caught.

"He's hanging on," Pamela said. "Barely. The longer he stays in this state, the harder it’ll be to anchor him back to our reality."

Kara added, her voice low, "If he dies now... I don’t think anything could bring him back. Not even the Stones."

Talia’s jaw clenched.

Then she turned, leading them down the steps into the Lazarus Sanctum.

The chamber was ancient. Lit by a soft, ethereal green glow that rose from the Pit at its center. 

"Are you sure the Pit won’t harm him further?" Kara asked, her brow furrowed as she looked into the eerie glow.

"This isn’t a normal Pit," Talia said, reaching into a hidden compartment beneath the altar. She pulled out a small, jagged crystal and dropped it into the water.

The Pit hissed softly, turning momentarily golden.

Pamela raised a brow. "Modified?"

"No. This is the untouched pit. After Bruce disappeared back then, we took over the island and shifted one of the pure original pits here with Skylar's help," Talia explained.

Pamela looked down at Bruce. "Then it might be enough."

Kara gently lowered the biosphere. The vines uncoiled as unseen hands lifted Bruce’s body, carried it across the green-lit chamber. He hovered over the Lazarus Pit.

Talia stepped forward.

"I got you, Bruce," She said softly.

"Come back to us."

The vines released him.

Bruce sank beneath the surface.

For a moment, there was nothing but ripples.

Then the Pit surged with light.

A burst of energy rippled through the chamber, green and gold, streaked with strands of blue and red. The torches flared. The air grew hot.

Bruce's body rose halfway from the water, back arched, muscles taut, every nerve in his body firing at once.

He screamed.

It was not pain.

It was the memory.

It was the sound of timelines crashing together.

A heartbeat later, he collapsed again, floating in the Lazarus Waters.

Still.

"That's enough. Pull him out," Talia said a little too loudly.

Pamela moved first, vines reaching into the pool and drawing him out gently. Kara was there in an instant, wrapping him again in her cloak, her hands trembling.

He coughed.

Once.

Then again.

His eyes fluttered open. 

He blinked.

The light dimmed.

He looked around slowly. For a moment, everything looked blurry, and he was dead tired.

"…Kara?"

Her heart stopped.

"Bruce," she whispered. "You're here. You're back."

His voice was hoarse. Dry. But steady.

"I feel like shit. I think I'm gonna sleep a bit... Just a bit..." 

...

[One Month Later]

The room was dim, lit by a soft amber glow emanating from the living walls. Vines curled along the stone, pulsating gently with bio-light. The quiet hum of ancient tech fused with plant life created a calm, rhythmic ambience. The heart of the sanctuary had grown around him. Pamela’s design, seeded with purpose and care, had turned the cold stone of Nanda Parbat into something... alive.

Machines lined the walls. Nothing invasive, just passive monitors. Screens tracked his vitals, quantum signatures, energy fluctuation, and brain activity.

For the last month, there had been nothing.

Until today.

On the upper right corner of the screen, a new spike appeared. Slight. Fragile. But clear.

Neural activity.

A single ripple across the quiet surface of Bruce Wayne’s mind.

Pamela was the first to notice. She froze mid-analysis, eyes locked on the display. Her voice was a whisper.

He’s waking up.

Across the room, Kara stood. She had been leaning against the wall, her cape half-draped across a nearby chair. She moved quickly, stepping beside the bed. Talia, sitting near Bruce’s left hand, was already rising to her feet, eyes wide.

The chamber grew still.

On the bed, Bruce’s chest rose just slightly faster.

Then his fingers twitched.

Pamela stepped closer, breath held.

Come on, Bruce...

Another twitch. This time more defined. His brow creased faintly, as if something behind his eyelids was pulling him out of a heavy fog. Kara leaned in.

"Bruce... can you hear me?"

For a moment, there was no answer.

Then...

His eyes opened.

Slowly. Just a crack at first. Then wider.

The ceiling above him came into focus. The flickering plant-light, the gentle hum of machines, and then… faces.

Kara’s tear-filled blue eyes.

Talia’s calm, stoic expression, but with something fragile beneath it.

Pamela’s tired, worried smile.

He blinked once. Twice.

His voice came out like cracked earth.

"...I’m not dead?"

Pamela let out a breath that sounded like it had been locked in her chest for weeks.

"Welcome back."

Talia was already reaching for a damp cloth, dabbing his forehead gently. Kara just dropped to her knees beside the bed and grabbed his hand.

"You scared the hell out of us," she whispered, laughing softly through a shaky breath. "You really had to go out with a god-killing finale, didn’t you?"

Bruce turned his head slightly toward her, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

"Darkseid… deserved worse."

Pamela exhaled a breathless laugh, brushing hair from his face. “You sound like yourself already.” She was barely holding herself from hugging him.

He looked at her slowly. His eyes scanned her face, then Talia’s. He tried to sit up but winced.

"Easy," Talia said, holding his shoulder. "Your body’s still adjusting. The Lazarus Pit restructured what it could. The rest... was your own stubborn will holding you together."

Bruce leaned back against the raised bed, staring up at the vines across the ceiling, the golden veins running through them.

"How long?"

"A month," Pamela said.

"A month," he repeated quietly. "And no one’s come hunting?"

Kara shook her head. "Only us. Everyone else still thinks you’re dead. And if they find out you’re not... well, we’re not sure how some people might react. Not after what you did."

Bruce's eyes closed again for a moment. He inhaled deeply. All the old memories coming back slowly.

"I remember... the light. The Tribunal. The Spear. His soul." He opened his eyes again. "Did it work?"

"It worked," Kara said. "Darkseid’s gone. For good."

Pamela stepped forward, scanning his vitals. "But you weren’t just injured, Bruce. You were gone. We saw your body breaking apart. But then, last month, you fell from the sky."

Bruce stared at the ceiling again.

"Well, I didn't actually die. I woke up in another universe or multiverse... There was a war going on with giant alien robots... Arg!" He grabbed his head as a splitting pain assaulted his mind. 

"You alright?" Pamela ran to him.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm good. It feels so weird. You wouldn't believe me. But there were these giant sentinels like lifeforms... Reapers... Yeah, that's what they called them. Anyway, after I destroyed them. There were these Geth robots. Asari, Salarians, and many others. They helped me build a dimensional spacecraft, and then I left that universe... It's so hazy now. I don't even remember how long I stayed in that universe... Haaa..."

Bruce sighed.  

"Anyway. I want to see everyone... Please call them."

[A few hours later...]

Everyone has gathered in Wayne Manor's main hall. Pamela said that there's a surprise for them. So, Selina, Harley, Diana... (Too many names to write. So, let's go with everyone in the harem and family.) Everyone was there.

Then the door opened...

A familiar man entered the room with his usual signature smile and blue eyes.

Everyone was stunned as their eyes fell on that person. For a moment, they forgot how to breathe. That man looked around the room with a smile and then...

"Yo!"

....................

AN: END> Thank you, everyone, for all your support over the years. And there you go, another book ended. Phew! It's finally over. I am kinda happy with the new ending. I had so many arcs planned when I first started (> Mass Effect, Beyonders, and Anti-Monitor), but well, with the decline in readers and too many characters entering, I had to end it here. It was getting harder and harder to keep track of everyone.

HOPE YOU HAD FUN READING THIS FF.

THANK YOU.

[Batman x Ironman] Ch: 105 [The Watcher’s Gaze]

A few months later...

[First Person POV]

It began with a battle no mortal remembers. A war beyond memory. A sacrifice erased from time. But though the name is lost, the impact remains…

But the Gods have plans of their own. Such a sacrifice of three lifetimes, if forgotten, would sully the legacy of the man who gave his all to protect everyone. So, the Living Tribunal decided to let the memories of that man remain in existence.

Who am I?

From the edge of existence, where time folds in silence and stars whisper their old songs, I watch.

I am Uatu. The Watcher.

And what I see now is something no being in the cosmos expected. A convergence. Not a collision. Not a battle. But a fusion. Two multiverses once held apart by the thinnest membrane of possibility now coexist in a singular restructured cosmic thread.

The DC and Marvel universes have merged.

Not into one world. Not into chaos.

But into harmony.

Two Earths orbit the same sun now, held in perfect balance by a new gravitational structure born from their union. Twin planets. Twin histories. Coexisting within a shared solar system that has been remade. The laws of nature twisted themselves to allow it. The cosmos bent but did not break.

With this merger came change. Familiar faces. New alliances. Old rivalries reborn. Gods and mutants walk the same streets. Lanterns and sorcerers defend the same skies. Titans of strength and intellect build new foundations from once-separate legacies.

But not all that crossed this boundary came to build.

New villains have emerged. Hybrids of hate and ambition, forged from the worst of both worlds. They strike from the shadows between realities, using the chaos of this new existence to hide and grow stronger.

Yet light always rises to meet the dark.

And at the heart of that light stands the daughter of a legacy that now exists only in the whispers of the stars.

Morgan Stark.

Not a vigilante. Not a soldier. She does not wear a mask. She does not fight in alleys or from rooftops.

She fights with thought. With design. With vision.

She carries the name of Stark. She carries the will of Wayne. And she has become the bridge between two Earths.

Alongside Susan Storm, she has constructed a vast teleportation network. Twin-gate systems woven from the leftover research and quantum philosophies of Bruce Wayne. Vibranium laced with Nth metal. Arc reactors are tuned to respond to both chronal variance and dimensional anchors.

Through their work, anyone may walk between Earths. Heroes and civilians alike. No longer separated by time or stars. Morgan has made the impossible mundane.

But she did more than connect worlds.

She protected them.

The Aegis Net now circles both Earths. An orbital shield network capable of detecting dimensional rifts and responding to multiversal incursions in real time. It is not a weapon of war. It is a guardian system. A promise.

Morgan never speaks of her father. She does not mourn publicly. She does not wear the symbol he once wore. But everything she creates echoes with his presence. Every shield she builds, every life she saves, is another verse in the story he never got to finish.

I watch her as I once watched him.

And I watch others, too.​

Selina Kyle, now visibly pregnant, walks the rooftops of Gotham with a newfound serenity.​ 

Harley Quinn, also expecting, paints murals of hope across the city, her laughter echoing with joy rather than madness.​

Diana Prince trains young heroes in Themyscira, her strength and wisdom guiding the next generation.​

Susan Storm continues to refine the teleportation network, her intellect and determination unwavering.​

Kara soars between the twin Earths, a symbol of unity and hope.​

Jennifer Walters offers legal counsel to those navigating the complexities of the merged worlds, her courtroom becoming a place of justice and understanding.​

Pamela Isley cultivates gardens that blend flora from both universes, creating sanctuaries of peace and healing.​ And she still runs Wayne Industries.

Natasha Romanoff trains a new cadre of spies and operatives, ensuring the safety of both Earths from threats within and beyond.​

Clint Barton mentors young archers, passing on his skills and experiences to those eager to protect their new world.​

Martha dedicated herself to humanitarian efforts, their past tragedies fueling their desire to heal.​

Thomas decided to run Stark Industries after Selina decided to take a break from work due to her pregnancy.

Damien Wayne, now a young man, finds purpose in diplomacy, bridging gaps between former enemies.​

Elissa Wayne created her own team of heroes. The Teen Titans. They are doing a great job of protecting the world.

Nyssa Raatko and Talia al Ghul work together to train the SHIELD agents who don't have superpowers. 

Ariel returned to her kingdom, Atlantis, and no one saw her ever again. She decided not to touch the outside land again because it reminds her of Bruce. Although their relationship never progressed far, she was still in love with him.

Hela decided to go on a journey of her own to master her new powers.

The new Avengers, led by Ami Han, have now become the protectors of the Marvel Earth. 

And then, on the day Bruce sacrificed himself, the impossible happened.​

Carol Danvers, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker, Professor Charles Xavier, and everyone who died after Thanos' war in Magneto's hands returned to life, their presence a testament to the resilience of hope.​

Thor's wounds healed, and he rose once more, his hammer Mjolnir gleaming with renewed purpose.​

Jean Grey emerged from her seclusion, her heart lightened by the return of those she once lost.​

Wanda, now free of corruption, lives with Vision and her children in peace and happiness.

The cosmos has changed, and with it, the stories of its heroes.​

I watch, as I always have, bearing witness to the ever-evolving tapestry of existence.​

For in this new era, forged from the union of two universes, the possibilities are as infinite as the stars themselves.

...

[3rd Person POV]

The Watcher bowed his head in silent reverence.

"Thank you, Bruce Wayne," he said, his voice carried only by the void. "Your sacrifice echoed farther than you could ever know."

But as the stars shifted in their quiet orbits, something tugged at the edge of Uatu’s perception. A vibration. Subtle, like the whisper of a forgotten memory trying to claw its way back into time.

The Watcher turned.

Beyond the gravitational cradle of the twin Earths, beyond the regulated silence of deep space, something was moving.

Fast.

A meteor?

No, something more. It shimmered unnaturally as fragments of quantum dust trailing behind it like a broken time-thread unraveling in space. The object spiraled with heat, cutting a scar across the black as it flew toward DC Earth.

Uatu focused. The air around him pulsed as he bent his attention inward and outward, watching not just its path but its probability.

Inside, barely alive, was a human.

The burning object entered Earth's atmosphere and then crashed...

The crash lit up the arctic night like a falling star gone wrong. Ice cracked. Wind howled. The ground trembled for miles. Snow turned to steam as the strange object slammed into the frozen earth, carving a wide crater of melted frost and scorched stone.

Then silence.

The Watcher stood above it all, miles away but fully aware. His eyes, ancient and vast, narrowed. He felt the ripple before it reached him. Something familiar. Something once thought lost to time.

He whispered to no one.

"The dead do not always sleep. Some are simply... misplaced."

Beneath the ice, the wreckage hissed. Metal twisted. The object was no ordinary meteor. It was a vessel... half-burned, barely holding together. Panels of alien alloy bent under pressure. Symbols marked the side, scratched and faded by its journey through time and dimension.

Inside, a man lay still. Covered in frost. Clinging to life.

Not a god. Not a ghost.

A man.

"The world remembers his name in fragments," the Watcher said, his voice quiet and distant. "But the stars remember it whole."

The figure inside the wreck moved, barely. A flicker of breath against the frozen air.

"He gave everything. And yet fate, greedy as ever, took more than it needed."

The Watcher closed his eyes.

"Bruce Wayne. Your story is not done."

He turned away from the falling snow, his cloak shifting like starlight in the wind. His eyes caught something sinister swirling at the edge of the merged verse.

"How much more must you sacrifice to get some peace?"

Below, machines buried in the wreckage hummed to life. Faint blue light flickered through the cracks. A heartbeat, slow and steady, echoed inside the pod. The man’s eyes twitched beneath closed lids.

Somewhere deep in the arctic silence, hope stirred again.

----

AN: Ok. This went better than I thought. 1 more chapter, that's it. Oh, as for something sinister, it's Beyonder and Anti-Monitor. And nope. Not gonna happen. I won't be writing another arc. I barely get any views on Webnovel and Scribblehub. And its getting difficult to write with so many characters. Next, I will focus on Shazam.

[Batman x Ironman] Ch: 104 [A Dawn Beyond Memory]

The Radion nukes detonated.

The entire dimension caved in on itself. The time loop shattered, but Bruce quickly used his Infinity power to recreate another time prison and teleport both far away from their present location.

The damage continued...

Planets vaporized. The sky screamed. Oceans of molten rock evaporated into dust. Darkseid roared as the Radion tore through his divine flesh, ripping at his very existence, but he did not fall.

He adapted.

Through sheer will, Darkseid stabilized what remained of his essence, compacting it into a dense, burning form. His armor was cracked and smoking. His body was bleeding divine ichor. Yet his eyes blazed even fiercer.

Bruce charged.

Faster than thought. Lightning exploding behind each step. His fists, empowered by the Tenfold Rings and enhanced strength, slammed into Darkseid's chest, each blow creating sonic booms that cracked the void.

Darkseid countered. His fist collided with Bruce’s jaw, sending him hurtling through fragments of a shattered moon. Before Bruce could recover, Darkseid was on him, a godly backhand smashing him into the molten ground, carving a deep trench across the broken realm.

Bruce spun mid-fall, landing in a crouch, blood trickling from his lip. He wiped it away.

Darkseid charged.

Bruce met him halfway.

Their fists collided. The shockwave shattered light itself, sending fractures through the sky. Bruce drove his knee into Darkseid's ribs, following up with a spinning kick to the temple. Darkseid stumbled, but retaliated with a brutal elbow to Bruce’s spine, making the Tenfold Armor groan under the pressure.

Bruce roared. "ARGGGG!!" His eyes flared red, twin beams of concentrated heat vision slashing across Darkseid’s wounded chest.

"DAMN YOU!" Darkseid screamed and countered with Omega beams, but Bruce dodged, moving faster than light, and shot energy blasts at Darkseid's eyes to prevent him from using his beams.

Bruce found an opening...

He blinked in and grabbed Darkseid's arm mid-strike and twisted, snapping the bone with a sickening crunch. Darkseid howled and countered with a headbutt that cracked Bruce's helmet.

"Kugggg!"

Bruce’s blood sprayed into the air. He blinked through the pain, his mind crystal clear. He released the hold and activated the Vortex boosters on his back, launching himself into the air and raining plasma-charged Radion blasts down onto Darkseid.

Explosions rocked the field. Each hit carved new burns into Darkseid’s armor, each explosion weakening him a fraction more.

But Darkseid did not stop.

He pushed through the firestorm, body ablaze, one hand clutching a crackling sphere of collapsed Omega energy. He hurled it with godlike strength.

Bruce barely raised his shields in time. The impact sent him crashing backward, the ground erupting under him.

He rolled to his feet, coughing blood, body screaming in protest.

Darkseid was breathing heavily now, but grinning.

"You’re weakening," Darkseid snarled. "You burn bright... but you will burn out."

Bruce growled deep in his chest.

Lightning exploded from his fists as he surged forward. He threw everything into his assault. Punches that dented dimensions. Kicks that ruptured gravitational fields. Blasts that would have annihilated entire solar systems.

Darkseid took them all, countering with brutal blows of his own. The battlefield trembled with every exchange.

Bruce twisted behind him, locking Darkseid’s arm, driving his knee into his spine with a sickening crack. Darkseid screamed and slammed his head backward, striking Bruce’s helmet, shattering more of the armor.

Bruce tried to fly away, but Darkseid caught him around the throat and slammed him into the asteroid so hard that shockwaves swept over the space, shattering everything in their way.

Bruce’s vision blurred. "Shit!"

Darkseid’s foot came down.

Bruce rolled aside. The stomp missed by inches, cracking the giant asteroid in half.

He rose, blood dripping from his mouth, his armor flickering, barely holding together.

Darkseid laughed.

"You gave me a fight, mortal," he growled, stepping forward. "But all flames... flicker and die."

Bruce's body screamed in agony. His Kryptonian cells were burning up. His muscles were torn. Bones cracked. Every system is nearing failure. His nanites were barely holding on. But this much was nothing. 

"Flicker and die?" He stretched his arms and cracked fingers as the Infinity energy completely healed him. "Kid, I haven't even used 10% of my power. But well... I guess, it's time to amp it up a bit, huh?"

Bruce vanished...

Darkseid's eyes widened. He couldn't even detect Bruce's movements. 

Bruce materialized behind Darkseid in an instant, faster than a thought, faster than instinct.

And he slapped him.

A brutal, open-handed bitch slap that cracked across Darkseid’s face like a thunderclap from the birth of the universe. The force was so absurd, so absolute, that it twisted Darkseid’s neck sideways and sent him stumbling two steps back.

The void itself recoiled.

The fractured sky above flickered, glitching in and out of existence.

Darkseid slowly turned his head back to face Bruce, a dark red welt already forming on his cheek.

His expression was pure rage. No words. Just the trembling of an ancient tyrant whose pride had been violated.

Bruce floated a few feet off the shattered ground, arms relaxed at his sides, his aura now something else entirely.

Infinity energy coursed through him, every cell vibrating at frequencies that bent time, matter, and reality.

The Living Tribunal’s seal behind him flared to life, golden rings spinning faster, radiating judgment into the dimension itself. His armor regenerated fully, gleaming with layered Radion veins, woven now with raw cosmic judgment. Then there was a shade of rainbow, shimmering around him due to the Infinity energy.

Bruce spoke, his voice layered, carrying the weight of law, the bite of vengeance, the warmth of life.

"You think you're inevitable," he said quietly.

He moved.

One strike to Darkseid’s ribs.

The impact was so vicious that chunks of divine armor and bone burst outward in a geyser of golden ichor.

Darkseid howled in agony.

Bruce was already moving again.

One punch to the sternum. One to the jaw. A knee to the gut that folded Darkseid over like a man broken by gravity itself.

"You think you can't lose," Bruce said, hammering another left hook into Darkseid’s temple.

Each hit carried amplified force.

The Power energy boiled in his veins.

The Space energy folded distance around his strikes.

The Time energy bent each blow to hit not just now, but half a second in the future and half a second in the past simultaneously.

The Mind energy sharpened every reaction to absolute precision.

The Soul energy anchored his existence beyond physical harm.

The Reality energy wove his will into the very fabric of the fight.

Bruce didn’t just hit Darkseid.

He rewrote Darkseid’s pain into the structure of the battle.

Every movement chained together, unrelenting.

Darkseid, the Prime, the inevitable, the devourer of dimensions, was reduced to defense.

And it wasn't enough.

Bruce created an infinity-constructed chain and wrapped it around Darkseid’s arms, pinning him midair. The chains glowed with Tribunal Law, woven from the essence of balance itself.

"You talk about endings," Bruce growled, grabbing Darkseid by the throat.

"You don't even understand what ending means."

He lifted Darkseid and slammed him down into the void-ground with such force that the entire reality they fought in folded like paper under a hammer. Cracks spread outward, shattering the already broken dimension into a field of floating ruins.

Bruce hovered above, a living sun of judgment, and raised his hand.

A new weapon formed.

Forged from Infinity Power and Radion, blessed by Tribunal Law... a spear of pure consequence.

The Judgment Spear.

It shimmered like a star compressed into a blade. Every thread of its being was designed for one thing.

End a god.

Bruce aimed it at Darkseid, who struggled against the chains, roaring in defiance.

"You think this is death," Bruce said, voice cold and final. "But this is justice."

He launched the spear.

It tore through reality with a shriek of a billion dying stars.

"DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE ME, MORTAL!" Darkseid unleashed the full force of the Omega Effect, a black-red tidal wave of annihilation roaring toward Bruce's attack.

The two forces collided.

For a moment, everything froze.

Then, with a scream that echoed across infinite planes, the Judgment Spear pierced through the Omega wave, through Darkseid’s chest...

Darkseid staggered.

He looked down.

A big hole! 

Bruce blinked before him. 

His hands, burning with the raw power of Infinity, Tribunal Law, and the full might of the Ten Rings, closed onto Darkseid’s wounded form.

One hand gripped cracked, divine ribs.

The other, torn, shredded flesh.

"ARRRGGG!!" Bruce roared, the sound less a human cry and more the thundering birth of a new cosmic law.

And pulled.

There was no mercy.

No hesitation.

The sound that followed wasn’t just physical, it was the wail of a god’s entire existence breaking apart. Reality itself buckled around them, the frozen void collapsing inward as Bruce ripped Darkseid’s skeleton clean from his flesh, tearing apart the god’s divine structure at the atomic, conceptual level.

Darkseid’s physical body collapsed instantly, his obsidian armor clattering into molten slag across the shattered ground.

His soul, vast, terrible, shrieking with rage, ripped itself free from the remains, trying to flee, a roiling black mass that twisted through the void, desperate to escape annihilation.

Bruce’s eyes snapped open fully, Infinity light pouring from them. The Soul energy flared around him, an aura of perfect, unbreakable authority.

"No."

Bruce reached out, and the Soul Stone’s energy expanded like a net woven of starlight and judgment. It wrapped around Darkseid’s fleeing spirit, ignoring its desperate struggles, ignoring its howling.

The soul tried to shatter itself, tried to fragment into infinite pieces across the multiverse.

Bruce simply tightened his grip.

The Soul Net compressed.

Smaller.

Denser.

Darkseid’s essence screamed again as Bruce crushed his spirit into a compact, burning orb of black-red light.

Still trying to resist.

Still refusing to die.

Bruce raised his hand.

The orb floated above his palm, thrashing and flickering, trying to reform.

He summoned the Judgment Spear back to his hand.

Without a word, Bruce thrust the spear through the trapped soul, pinning it between dimensions, into the bleeding cracks of the multiverse.

The Tribunal's voice echoed in the dying skies:

"Judgment rendered."

The pinned soul shrieked one last time.

Then it collapsed into itself.

Imploded.

Gone.

Darkseid Prime was no more.

Not defeated.

Not sealed.

Not trapped.

Erased.

Completely.

Bruce lowered his arm.

The battlefield was silent.

The fractured plane trembled as it began to collapse fully now, no longer sustained by either combatant’s will. Reality itself would soon erase this place from existence.

Bruce stood alone at the heart of it all, surrounded by crumbling stars and dying echoes. 

He then flew down and sat on the floating shard of broken asteroid, the vast emptiness stretching around him. His breathing was slow. Calm.

He looked down at his hands. Cracks spiderwebbed along his skin, golden light leaking from the fractures. His armor was breaking apart. Not shattered by Darkseid, but dissolving, atom by atom.

The power that had fueled his final victory... the Living Tribunal's fragment, the Infinity energy threaded with Judgment... it was eating him from the inside out. His very existence, now incompatible with the multiverse, was fading.

And he accepted it.

Above him, the black void was bleeding into soft color. A sun? No, not the sun of any world he knew, but something deeper was rising, casting warm, final rays across the broken dimension.

Bruce smiled faintly. It was a lonely, sad smile, but a satisfied one.

The war was over. The monster was gone.

The people he loved would live.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the silence of victory wash over him.

Then a soft sound... almost like the rustle of wind through a forgotten hallway. A portal opened behind him, spinning into being with a soft sigh of energy.

Boots crunched against the floating rock.

Bruce opened his eyes and didn’t turn. He didn’t need to.

"Strange," he said, voice low but steady.

Stephen Strange, his cloak torn and burnt at the edges, floated down beside him. His face was weary, more human than Bruce had ever seen it. He said nothing at first, only looked at Bruce... the man who had done what no god, no champion, no cosmic force had ever achieved.

"Ha... You look like shit, Strange," Bruce chuckled.

"I’m sorry," Strange finally said, voice rough. "For everything. But there was no other way."

Bruce chuckled softly, the sound dry and cracked. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

"It doesn’t matter anymore," he said. His gaze remained fixed on the rising light. "No one’s going to remember me."

Strange swallowed hard, his hands curling slightly at his sides. He could see it—Bruce’s body was unraveling, pieces of him scattering like stardust with every passing second.

"The Tribunal’s judgment..." Bruce continued. "The price for wielding their authority. Existence in the multiverse becomes impossible. The timeline... forgets."

Strange closed his eyes, guilt bleeding from him like a wound. "You don't deserve this."

Bruce turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at him.

"I never fought for memory," he said. "I fought so Morgan could build a future without fear. I fought so Harley could laugh without pretending. So Selina could live without running. So Diana could dream again. So Pam could joke without hiding pain. So Kara could fly free. So Hela could find balance. So the kids... all of them... could grow up. Everyone... will be ok."

He smiled again, a little wider this time, though a tear traced down his cracked cheek.

"I fought for them. Not for a legacy. Not for a name."

The light from the rising sun grew brighter. His body shed more pieces, little particles of golden dust swirling upward. His fingertips began to blur, dissolve.

"I was never a god," Bruce whispered. "I was just a man who chose to stay standing when everything else fell."

Strange stepped closer, almost reaching out, but stopped himself. He knew. Nothing could be done now. No magic could bind him. No artifact could save him.

Bruce stood slowly. His body shimmered, flickering between existence and oblivion.

He turned toward Strange fully, the light haloing him.

"Promise me," Bruce said quietly. "Protect them."

"I swear it," Strange whispered.

Bruce nodded once. Then he turned his gaze upward to the newborn light, his expression calm, unafraid.

The portal behind Strange shimmered again. More figures stepped through it now.

Selina. Harley. Morgan. Hela. Diana. Sue. Ami. Kara. Jennifer. Pamela. Nat. Clint. Martha. Thomas. Damien. Elissa. Talia. Nyssa. Ariel. [And everyone... His friends and family...]

They had come.

Somehow, even as the universe tried to forget, they remembered.

They couldn't reach him—the rules of existence wouldn't allow it. But they stood there, silent, eyes burning, hearts breaking, bearing witness.

Harley tried to run forward, tears spilling down her face, but Selina caught her, holding her back, shaking her head.

Bruce saw them.

And he smiled one last time.

It was a smile full of love. Full of pride. Full of peace.

Then he turned back toward the light.

His body dissolved fully now, streams of golden dust trailing behind him like a comet.

And with a final step forward, Tony Stark... Bruce Wayne... Jack Lance... the Champion of the Multiverse...

Was gone.

The light swallowed him.

The void went silent.

And a new dawn broke.

A future he gave everything to protect.

Even if no one would remember the name of the man who made it possible.

They would live.

And for Bruce...

That was enough.

-----

AN: Should I end it here? Or, bring Bruce back? But if you ask me, this was the OG ending I had in mind. A little rushed, I know. Let me know in the comment.

[Ironman] Ch: 79 [Pain is a Language]

[Horizon Island – Command Deck] [4 days later]

The soft hum of servers filled the room, punctuated by the quiet clatter of keys. Screens glowed, illuminating Natasha's face. Her expression was calm and focused, and she was happy to be of help. While others were handling things outside, she was doing some hacking from the base.

Behind her, Hermes hovered silently in projection mode, sifting through thousands of live feeds, encrypted databases, and shadow accounts.

"Target 432B. Cayman Islands shell corporation. Linked to Senator Colter," Hermes intoned.

Natasha's fingers moved like blades over the holographic keyboard. Within seconds, she bypassed the firewall, cracked the secondary encryption, and exposed the ledger hidden behind six layers of dummy fronts.

"Got you, you rat," Natasha muttered.

With a few quick taps, she rerouted the funds. Washed them clean through humanitarian organizations, small startup ventures, and obscure tech firms Tony discreetly owned. Within five minutes, the black money vanished from the dirty accounts and reappeared in the coffers of Horizon Island.

Clean. Untraceable. Legal.

Hermes spoke again, voice crisp.

"Target 267X. Offshore accounts linked to former Oscorp board members. Funds: two point seven billion USD. Status: frozen by Interpol request."

Natasha smiled thinly.

"Not anymore."

She unleashed a code worm designed by Tony himself that bypassed the freeze by mimicking a diplomatic immunity protocol. The money flowed like blood down invisible veins, straight into their system.

Screen after screen flickered with confirmation.

Wire transfers completed.

Contracts voided.

Assets seized and reallocated.

On another monitor, real-time footage showed law enforcement raiding safe houses, private airfields, and penthouses. Politicians were dragged out in handcuffs. Corporate moguls wept as their empires crumbled in front of news cameras.

Some had tried to run.

Some had tried to hide.

None escaped.

The Widows hunted them down with surgical strikes. Lina's team took down an entire cartel-linked syndicate in Argentina. Melina's squad raided a secret biolab in Romania without a single shot fired. The other teams are also scattered around the world, taking down the criminals.

Natasha's voice cut through the room.

"How much have we recovered?"

Hermes processed for a heartbeat.

"Over four hundred seventy-two billion across multiple sectors. Estimated clean profit after redistribution: four hundred twenty-eight billion."

Natasha leaned back slightly, arms crossed.

She stared at the numbers flashing across the screens. Four hundred twenty-eight billion. It felt unreal. Like a mountain of weight, she could move with a few keystrokes. She didn't hesitate.

She pulled up the world map. Pinpoints flashed red where chaos had erupted after the mass arrests. Companies collapsing. Jobs lost overnight. Families stranded because their cities had depended on corrupted systems for survival.

She started there.

Eighty percent. That was the number she fixed in her mind.

She redirected entire blocks of assets toward rebuilding.

One keystroke sent hundreds of millions into emergency unemployment funds across Europe and South America.

Another opened floodgates to international medical networks, delivering vaccines and equipment to refugee camps in North Africa and Southeast Asia.

She created massive educational grants through dummy trusts, designed for war orphans, slum children, and abandoned towns. No application fees. No bureaucracy. Just opportunity.

Natasha routed funding into disaster relief programs that the world had long forgotten. Earthquake zones in Turkey. Flood recovery in Bangladesh. Drought-hit villages in central Africa, where a few hundred dollars could keep a school running for a year.

Food banks exploded overnight in cities that had once been ignored. Fresh produce, clean water, and proper shelter. Not handouts. Foundations.

Shelters sprung up in war-ravaged cities. Old-age homes were rebuilt, expanded, and staffed with proper nurses and doctors. Veterans received a huge amount of money through legal means. Entire homeless communities were moved into newly built centers with jobs, training, and dignity.

Every few seconds, another wire transfer flicked across the world.

Not hidden. Not silent.

Anonymous, but undeniable.

Wherever the money appeared, people noticed. A mother fed her starving child for the first time in weeks. A wounded soldier walked again. A refugee found a home that wasn't a tent and a number tag.

Natasha sat still as the map shifted from red to green. Tiny lights of hope blooming across the dark surface of the Earth.

For the first time in what felt like forever, her hands weren't stained with blood. They were building something.

Healing something. 

Through action.

Real, visible, unstoppable action.

She closed her eyes for a moment.

And for the first time in her life, she felt it.

Not adrenaline. Not survival. Not cold duty.

Satisfaction.

A weight lifted from her shoulders that she hadn't even realized she carried.

This.

This was redemption.

Not in whispers or in hiding.

In the open.

Where it mattered.

Natasha smiled. Not the practiced, weaponized smile she'd worn for years. A real one.

She leaned back in the chair, staring at the rising green dots across the planet, and whispered to herself, voice soft, steady, sure.

"This time... we did it right."

Behind her, Hermes quietly flickered a holographic screen to life.[Shadow Legion – Global Influence Map: Status - Active][Humanitarian Index: Surge + 312%]

The world was changing.

A few minutes later...

The door slid open with a soft hiss, and Tony stepped inside. 

He just walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her gently into him. His chin rested on her shoulder as he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

Natasha didn't flinch. She leaned into him, letting her head tilt slightly, eyes still watching the map on the screen. Green lights flickered like stars across the world.

She placed her hand over his.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Tony kissed her again, slower this time. "For what?"

"For giving me this chance," she said, voice steady but thick with emotion. "For letting me... be something more than what they made me."

He squeezed her tighter, his voice low in her ear. "I made a promise."

She turned slightly to look at him.

Tony met her eyes without hesitation.

"This," he said, gesturing to the screens, to the green blooming across the world, "this is just the beginning."

...

[Meanwhile...] [Interrogation room-1]

The lights buzzed overhead. White. Clinical. No shadows. No dark corners to hide in.

The Ten Rings assassin sat chained to a thick steel chair bolted into the ground. His wrists and ankles were bound by high-tension restraints laced with electric filaments, ready to deliver disabling shocks at a moment’s notice. His mask was gone now, revealing a brutalized face... broken nose, split lip, bruises forming dark patches under both eyes.

Across from him, Melina sat calmly on a metal stool, legs crossed, wearing a simple white tactical suit. Well, her white suit got patches of blood all over.

A small cart sat beside her. Neat rows of gleaming tools: scalpels, electrodes, bone saws, injectors, and a few other torture devices.

Melina didn’t speak immediately. She simply watched him.

The assassin stared back, breathing hard, jaw locked.

The silence stretched.

Finally, Melina picked up a slim black tablet and tapped it lightly with her nail.

"I know you're trained to resist pain," she said conversationally, almost like she was commenting on the weather. "Resist interrogation. Bite your tongue off if you have to. The whole martyrdom package."

The assassin said nothing.

Melina smiled faintly.

"But that's the old way. See..." she leaned forward slightly, setting the tablet down, "pain tolerance isn’t your shield anymore. Not when we can bypass it."

She reached for a thin, hooked probe from the tray.

"This?" she said, twirling it lightly between her fingers. "Nerve isolator. Not designed to cause pain exactly. Just... discomfort. In all the wrong places."

The assassin shifted slightly in the chair. Sweat started to bead on his forehead.

Melina moved to his side and, without ceremony, jabbed the hook into the side of his neck, precisely between two vertebrae.

There was no scream.

His body simply locked up.

His muscles spasmed violently, jerking against the restraints.

Melina watched clinically, timing it.

"That’s your vagus nerve protesting," she said mildly. "Controls your heart rate. Your digestion. Your breathing." She tilted her head, studying him. "Feels like you're drowning, doesn’t it?"

The assassin gasped for air, muscles twitching uncontrollably, saliva dripping from his mouth.

Melina pulled the hook free.

Instant relief.

He sagged in the chair, coughing violently.

"That was thirty percent power," she said, wiping the probe clean with a cloth. "Next time, it will be forty."

Still, he said nothing.

Melina smiled again. "I admire your training. Really. But it's not going to save you."

She pressed two fingers under his jaw, just enough pressure, and his body went stiff again. This time, he whimpered.

"You’re going to tell me everything you know," she said, voice calm and almost soothing. "Mandarin's base, safe houses, number of assassins, weaponry you people have, technology details, names, and everything you know about missions... ongoing and upcoming. I want everything."

The assassin clenched his jaw, shaking his head slightly.

Melina leaned down, her mouth near his ear.

"You will talk," she whispered. "Because eventually... your body will betray you. It always does."

She pulled back, reached for a syringe filled with clear fluid.

"You know what this is?" she asked.

No response.

She injected it into his neck.

"This will make your nerves ten times more sensitive," she said. "Every breath. Every twitch. Every heartbeat will feel like fire in your veins."

She stepped back, waiting.

It took less than a minute.

The assassin began to shake uncontrollably, teeth grinding so hard that flecks of blood appeared at the corners of his mouth.

Melina pulled up a second chair and sat calmly again, tablet in hand, stylus ready.

"Whenever you’re ready," she said gently. "Take your time."

Another minute passed.

Then, broken and trembling, he croaked out the first word.

"France..."

Melina's stylus moved without hesitation.

"Good," she said softly. "Now, keep going."

...

[Interrogation room 2]

The room stank of sweat, blood, and desperation.

Ross hung suspended by chains from the ceiling, arms stretched above him at painful angles. His uniform was gone. Just blood-streaked boxers now. His body was a roadmap of bruises, cuts, and burns.

Yelena stood in front of him, wiping blood off her gloves with a white towel.

She looked fresh. Relaxed. Like she was just getting started.

Ross lifted his head weakly, one eye swollen shut. His breathing was shallow, raspy.

"Four days," Yelena said, tossing the towel aside. "Four days, General. You’re tougher than I gave you credit for."

Ross tried to sneer. It came out as a pained grimace.

"You think this... will make you better... than me?"

Yelena chuckled, low and cold.

"What the fuck are you babbling on about? That wasn't the correct answer."

She pulled up a chair and straddled it backward, resting her arms on the backrest.

"You know the drill, Ross. Names. Accounts. Safehouses. Labs. Everything. You give it to me, and maybe, maybe, I'll let you live long enough to die in a real bed instead of on this floor."

Ross spat a wad of bloody saliva at her feet.

Yelena didn’t react.

She simply nodded to the wall.

From a small panel, two mechanical arms extended. Each fitted with tiny, whirring tools—microsaws, injectors, scalpels.

Ross's bloodshot eye widened just slightly.

"See, my sister’s the gentle one," Yelena said casually, nodding toward where Natasha was probably working upstairs. "Me? I’m a little more... hands-on."

She reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out a bone drill.

"Starting with your left tibia," she said. "Small hole. Won't even bleed much. But the vibration will feel like it's screaming inside your skull."

Ross struggled against the chains.

The drill whirred to life.

"I'll give you one last chance," Yelena said, voice almost kind. "Tell me everything that you kept off-records. We found the files and other records from the sub, but I'm pretty sure you got more. Where were you running to? Where was your destination? Some uncharted island? Underwater base? You got more of those failed monsters? I want everything. Oh, if you are wondering why not use the truth serum? Well, where's the fun in that?"

She cracked her knuckles with a sinister smile.

She stepped forward and pressed the spinning drill tip lightly against his shinbone.

He howled, the sound animalistic and broken.

She pulled the drill away.

"Where?"

Ross gasped, the pain cracking something inside him.

"Celestial Island... Indian Ocean..." He mumbled.

Yelena smiled.

"There we go."

She leaned in close, her voice almost tender.

"See? Was that so hard?"

Ross sagged against the chains, sobbing quietly.

Yelena smiled, "Now, shall we continue?"

"Wait!" Ross trembled in pain.

Yelena began her drilling again...

"ARGGGG!!!!" 

---------

AN: Time to get some Adamantium. We'll see Peggy in 1 or 2 chs.

[Ironman] Ch: 78 [The Serum Scam]

Yelena didn’t wait.

She rushed forward, dropped her center of gravity, and slammed a punch right into Ross’s face. Well, she kinda held back. Tony wanted Ross alive after all. 

There was a wet crack.

His nose flattened like a kicked-in tent. His body shot backward, slammed against the metal wall with a loud clang, and left a human-shaped dent.

Ross groaned, grabbing his face, blood dripping between his fingers.

But then…

"Kekeke! Heheheh!" He started laughing.

Not the calm, confident kind.

The I have lost every marble kind.

Yelena stared at him, arms folded, foot tapping.

"You... you feel that?" Ross gasped out, blood running down his chin. "I feel alive!"

She tilted her head. "Yeah, that's the adrenaline. You want a gold star?"

Ross pushed off the wall, wobbling slightly, but a crazed smile plastered across his face. He stumbled forward like a drunk brawler seeing double. With a loud, unintelligible yell, he swung a punch at her chest.

Yelena didn't even move.

THUNK.

Ross’s knuckles collided with the nanite armor.
There was a disgusting crunch. His wrist bent backward at an angle wrists were not supposed to bend.

Ross howled, stumbling back, clutching his shattered hand.

Yelena blinked. Once. Twice.

She pointed at his wrist with pure deadpan energy. "Did you seriously just try to punch reinforced armor with your bare hand?"

Ross, wild-eyed and shaking, screamed, "I feel no pain!"

He threw another punch with his left hand, aiming for her helmet.

THUNK.

Another horrible snap.

Ross immediately dropped to his knees, clutching his now broken left hand too, gasping like a dying fish.

Yelena’s eye twitched. She stepped back just slightly, staring at him like he was the dumbest creature she had ever encountered.

"Uumm..." She was kinda lost for words. 

Ross slammed his broken fists against the floor, howling like a wounded animal. His voice bounced off the metal walls, raw and desperate.

"This isn't right!" he roared, veins bulging at his temples. "The serum was supposed to work! It was supposed to...!"

Yelena crouched a few feet away, resting her elbow on her knee, watching him with mild curiosity, like he was some drunk at a party making a fool of himself. She cocked her head. "Serum, huh? Who made it? Because, buddy, you look about as superhuman as a wet sandwich."

Ross’s eyes were wild, bloodshot. His voice cracked as he spat out the name. "Norman. Norman Osborn!"

Yelena clapped her hands once, slow and mocking. "Wow. Wow. Hold on." She stood up straight and wiped an imaginary tear from her eye. "You... trusted Norman Osborn? After you and your government buddies cut his funding, tried to blacklist him, and gave him what...? Like a week?"

Ross didn’t answer. He just panted, cradling his ruined hands.

"And now that I think about it. Norman never gave you that serum, you mofo stole it from his lab after he disappeared, right? Hahahaha! I guess, Norman expected something like this to happen and... Hahaha..."

"My SSS Serum.. no, no, no... It can't be... No." Ross kept mumbling.

Yelena stepped closer, boots clicking against the floor. She leaned down just a little, voice syrupy sweet.

"You thought the guy you stabbed in the back was gonna hand you the key to becoming the next Captain America? You seriously thought that? And you thought me here wearing this high-tech suit with scanners and boosters of all kinds, let you just drink a super serum without stopping you? You really are a retard."

Ross glared at her through the pain, but the hatred in his eyes was dull and empty now.

She smiled wider. "He gave you an adrenaline shot, you moron. A cheap one. Probably expired. And you drank it like it was liquid gold."

She turned, pacing in a slow circle around him.

Yelena has already done a double scan on Ross and his blood, just in case. Can't be too careful. But nope. Nothing. He was just a regular human.

"You thought you were about to break the world," she said, almost kindly. "But Norman... he broke you first. Just a nice, warm rush to make you feel invincible for about... a few seconds."

Ross shook with rage, blood dripping from his shattered knuckles. "I’ll kill him... I’ll kill all of you..."

Yelena stopped behind him, her tone dropping to ice.

"You living under the rocks? Norman is dead," she said. "You're done. You're a relic. A sad, broken old man whose own ego finally caught up with him."

Ross tried to rise, tried to summon something of the soldier he used to be, but his legs buckled. He fell flat, face smashing into the cold steel floor with a wet smack.

Yelena crouched next to him again, tapping the side of her helmet to activate comms.

"Package secured. Dumb as a rock but breathing."

She paused, grinning under the helmet.

"Permission to kick him once?"

Tony's voice crackled through her earpiece, dry and amused. "Just once. Don't break anything important."

Yelena didn't need a second invitation.

She stood over Ross, measured the angle like she was lining up a golf shot, and sent a sharp, brutal kick straight into his groin.

There was a wet, pitiful grunt. His body jolted once and then went limp.

Yelena tilted her head. "Hmm. That looked satisfying."

She pulled a coil of electric rope from her belt. With efficient, almost lazy movements, she flipped Ross over, ignoring the pathetic groans escaping his bloodied lips. The rope wrapped tight around his wrists and ankles, crackling to life with a low hum as it hardened into a locking sequence. No way he was going anywhere, even if he woke up.

She slung him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, dragging his sorry weight back toward the bridge.

Sliding into the captain's seat, Yelena hacked the manual control interface. It was old-school, analog heavy, a pain in the ass, but nothing she couldn’t figure out with a few minutes and some creative violence toward the control panel.

Sub thrusters engaged.

Yelena guided it back to the Horizon Island.

...

[Meanwhile...] [Ross' base]

At what was left of Ross’s secret base, Tony and the Widows moved fast.

The survivors lay scattered across the field, groaning, broken, barely alive. Some were missing limbs. Others were so deep in shock they didn’t even register the world around them.

Tony didn’t hesitate. He activated the bio-nanite deployment system on his left gauntlet, a cloud of microscopic machines surging from his palm. The Widows followed suit, directing streams of shimmering mist toward the wounded.

The nanites latched onto the injured soldiers, weaving new flesh, fusing broken bones, repairing shattered organs with a quiet, almost reverent efficiency. Within seconds, the worst of the dying stabilized. Those too far gone and were one breath away from dying were brought back thanks to the regeneration properties in his bio-nanites. 

However, too many died... Too much blood spilled...

Tony didn’t flinch. Death was still death. But the ones he could save, he did.

"Tony!" one of the Widows called out, pointing at the mutated humans. 

The remains of the mutated goblins... Dead now, but still radiating faint, unstable bio-signatures.

Tony pulled out a series of sample vials and containment capsules. Carefully, methodically, the team harvested blood, tissue, and bone marrow. Every cell could tell a story. Every cell might lead to answers about the nightmare Ross tried to unleash.

Once finished, he stood back, surveying the grim harvest. The survivors from the tactical team thanked them for saving their lives. Tony asked them to take the remnants of their comrades and clear the area which they did without a question. 

Within fifteen minutes they cleared the area. Tony made sure to scan each of them for blood traces from those monsters before letting them go. 

Then...

"Burn them down. Don't leave a single trace of these monstrosities," Tony ordered. 

The Widows flew around dropping incendiary grenades, burning down all the traces of mutated humans to prevent others like the government or any other shadow agency from using them to create another army of monsters.

The stench of burning flesh swept over the area...

They regrouped at the base’s ruined command center.

Or what was left of it.

The doors were ripped open, the inside scorched black. Terminals smashed. Servers reduced to molten slag. Files burnt to ash.

Someone had cleaned house before the Widows ever arrived.

Tony scanned the wreckage, helmet visor flickering through layers of detection.

Nothing salvageable.

Not even a trace.

He let out a sharp breath through his teeth. "Son of a bitch. He torched everything. Well, Yelena got Ross, so that's a good thing. Let's go."

He turned and walked out of the command center.

The Widows followed.

They rose into the sky as one, repulsors flaring soft blue under the dark clouds.

The wind howled around them.

The blood and smoke of the battlefield faded beneath their feet.

The night swallowed them whole.

But this war?

It was just beginning.

...

The storm above was endless. Winds screamed across the frozen wasteland, drowning the world in white.

Buried deep beneath the glacier, the ancient facility stirred.

Not a place of science.

A place of survival.

A place where rules had died long ago.

At its heart, inside a dark steel chamber lined with analog machines and humming life-support units, an old man sat.

The body was more machine than flesh now. Spinal tubes. Metal ribs. Synthetic blood is circulating through plastic veins. But his mind. His mind was sharp. Too sharp.

He watched the monitor. Lines of information scrolled across the cracked screen. News feeds. Intelligence reports. Satellite intercepts. Emergency communications.

Oscorp Executive: Dead.
General Thaddeus Ross: Captured.
Unidentified Hostile Force: Detected.

He leaned closer.

Grainy footage played.

Black armored figures moving with terrifying speed.

Nanite clouds healing the wounded.

Metal and flesh fused together in ways he had only theorized, never achieved.

He slowed the footage. Frame by frame.

The armor. Too advanced. Not military. Not Oscorp.

He froze the frame and sat back, mind racing.

Decades... No, a century of work. Attempts to merge man and machine. To create hybrids that wouldn't rot, wouldn't die, wouldn't betray.

And now... someone had done it.

Someone had built what he had only dreamed. No, they did it even better. 

His machines whirred louder around him as his heart rate spiked. The life-support systems pumped faster, trying to keep pace with the surge of adrenaline his failing body could barely survive.

"Phew! Things just got interesting..." 

---

AN: Just to confirm, it ain't who you think he is. But feel free to guess. He'll be the big villain during space arc.