This is the sort of madness my muses come up with if left to their own devices. It is very AU, borderline crack, and not to be taken too seriously.

I do not own Marvel in any way and this story is written solely for enjoyment.

TapTap

It was in the middle of a press conference - and it was needless to say that Tony Stark was right there, completely visible and obviously present.

Still, there was a sighting of Ironman out there, and so the reporter who got the message had to ask. Then again, it wasn't as if it was the first time a reporter - or even this one - asked a really silly question.

Clearing his throat after getting the word, the man spoke up a little hesitantly, "There has been a sighing right now of Ironman... what is the comment on this?" There was a brief "What?" from the room, followed by more reporters checking their cellphones, waiting for updates from their own, slower organisations.

Tony Stark, however, reacted with absolutely no surprise, merely a frown. "What colour is it?" When the reporter who had asked the original question merely looked at him blankly, Tony Stark rolled his eyes and said, with waning patience. "The suit that's out there. What colour is it."

"Eh," the confused reporter half-shrugged, "Red and gold?" To everyone's surprise Stark swore lightly, reaching for his latest generation Starkphone in a well-practised movement. "That'd be the Mark 109 - it's fully accessible in the Malibu workshop. Tells me nothing."

In the silent, still room where everyone merely waited, too out of their depth to know what to even ask about, Tony Stark's phone rang out signals as it called and waited for someone to pick up on the other side. It was still connected to the monitors after a presentation the R&D cheif and owner of Stark Industries had made earlier, so when someone did pick up, the video call showed up on the big screen for everyone to see.

It showed them what seasoned reporters would later be able to identify as the pool of the Stark mansion in Malibu, and more specifically, it showed a young woman in a black bikini swimming laps in said pool.

The bikini she was wearing was quite small, but it was built for swimming rather than posing, and her hair – which was pitch black and looked like it might be quite long - was unceremoniously tied back to let her swim. She was doing so with the diligence of someone who was actively training rather than just swimming about, and she heaved herself up easily upon reaching the edge, facing the cellphone someone else must be holding.

"Stark," she greeted him, all no-nonsence and effective manners. This was a skilled soldier, ready to act on a moment's notice. Or less. Stark swore again. "The Mark 109 is up in the air. I had hoped it was just you." She shook her head, easily getting to her feet out of the pool. "No, clearly. Want me to track it?"

"Well, if it is Anna I want you to help her, if it's Nicole then I want you to get her down!" Stark's reply was rather loud as she moved, accepting the tovel reached out from behind the cellphone.

"Friday?" A male voice asked from behind the phone, and got an immediate reply which went through clearly. "Anna left me a message to call for backup should she not be back in 17 minutes and 43 seconds from now, young Sir," the AI said.

"Great. Yasmine, get up there and help, please, and Friday alert Jarvis, he can scan better from New York," Stark instructed, getting a polite reply from his junior AI to the affirmative. "Will do," the woman - Yasmine apparently - nodded, already moving out of the picture. In her stead, the phone was turned around and the assembled press could see a young man with half-blue eyes and dark hair, the very image of a young Tony Stark.

"They'll be up in a few minutes," the young man shrugged. "I can't really do much in this situation - not an Ironman." Tony Stark levelled him what could only be described as a stern gaze, patient and decidedly fatherly in a way none of the journalists would have thought.

"You do you, son. Remember what your grandad always said about Stark men." "That we must always be strong, you mean?" "Yes, and what do we say about what grandad thought about things?" As they talked, the young man walked, seemingly going inside as the light changed abruptly, and there were suddenly noises of quick, efficient activity.

The young man laughed. "That I must never ever listen to a word of it?" "Good boy." A smile greeted this response, and a hurried, "By the way," the young version of Tony Stark shrugged again, "I got accepted into MIT. Not on a scholarship though..." he looked a bit sheepish, prompting the adult Tony Stark to look stern again. "Anthony Michael Stark, I swear..."

A laugh was his response. "Right. Thanks dad. I gotta go - I need to make sure none of my sisters get into their suits wet. Jeanette will call tonight - she made some sort of breakthrough with genes she thinks might give Bruce a hand with his current research. Love you, speak to you soon!"

He hung up before his father, apparently, could reply, but Tony Stark was smiling as he looked up to the shocked, dead silent room. "The Ironman Juniors - also known as the Ironlady Brigade, will be up in a few minutes to deal with the identified threat that made one of them go up there. We will keep you posted."

And because he knew the press best, really, Tony Stark walked out of the room immediately, without answering any more questions, because that was very much his only shot at doing so.