Hello there! Welcome to another entry into the Kryptonverse series! I'm gonna try my best to keep this one no longer than five chapters because otherwise I'll still be in Year 1 of this series in five years :D
This takes place around chapter 29 of The Girl Who Could Knock Out the Hulk, and somewhat concurrent with the start of The Royal We. Sometime in September 2012, though I'm not too particular about dates.
This story is basically a retelling of the Big Hero 6 film featuring Tony Stark's Iron Man and ties to the larger Kryptonverse series and the Big Hero 6 cartoon! Word of warning, we're not in the future and we don't have a mixed setting (this is regular San Francisco), and I'm gonna have to play a little fast and loose with the timeline and some of the events in order for the BH6 crew to smoothly integrate into this massive crossover universe. I hope you enjoy!
"I have to say, Tony." –Pepper says, finally putting down her work tablet and easing back against her lush chair, a scarce half hour to go before arriving at SFO. "I'm still struggling to believe you've finally decided to show up at one of SFIT's showcases."
Tony looks up from his absent fiddling on one of the suit's gauntlets – he's having some trouble getting the repulsors to fire non-lethal blasts, the kind he'd need to operate, as Peter puts it, at 'street level' with the rest of New Yorks vigilantes. "Granville asked so nicely, I just had to." –he says, sardonically.
Pepper raises a sarcastic eyebrow at him. "She asks nicely every year, Tony."
He hums. "Yeah, well." –he mutters. "Last year we didn't have massive alien invasions that could potentially wipe out the currently available superheroes. Now I've gotta consider my own mortality and shit. Think about the next generation in a context sadly lacking in Jean-Luc Picard."
"Shouldn't you be digging into that S.H.I.E.L.D. Index file you had JARVIS steal from the Helicarrier's servers instead of attending a fancy science fair, then?"
Tony shrugs. "S.H.I.E.L.D. firewalls may be crap, but their encryption is top notch, I'll give them that. Jay is still code-breaking in the background – I don't expect him to produce anything usable for at least a couple months."
"I believe the latest estimate I gave you was for approximately six months, Sir." –the AI chimes in.
"Well, I believe in you anyway, buddy." –Tony says. "Point is, it couldn't hurt to look in some rather unorthodox places to figure out who's gonna avenge the Avengers, or at least equip whoever actually ends up replacing us. Y'know, if we ever actually lose."
"Might be a little early to get that cocky, honey." –Pepper says, crossing her arms. "So, you're...what, expecting to find the next Iron Man here?"
Tony glances at the list of featured attendees, his eyes settling on the Robotics course applicants. None of the names particularly jump at him, though he does notice that Robert Callaghan himself is sponsoring a project from one Tadashi Hamada. "With any luck?" –he mutters. "Someone who'll make Iron Man obsolete someday."
Tony visits the college campus early in the morning, both to familiarize himself with the place and avoid making a scene. It's a tremendously nostalgic scene for him; students running around like headless chickens, rushing to make their morning lectures via unholy amounts of caffeine, stimulants that shall go unnamed, and that particular brand of STEM-flavored spite that drives severely underfunded nerds to change the world.
The San Francisco Institute of Technology is, for its massive size and prestige, a rather recent development; it's only been around for about a decade, and it owes its existence, in large part, to the patronage of Stark Industries.
More specifically, and rather uncomfortably, to Obadiah Stane.
Stane may have turned out to be a murderous, corrupt war profiteer, but it wouldn't really be fair to say that he didn't ever do anything good with SI's billions in revenue; much of Silicon Valley's ravenous expansion was fueled by investments made under Stane's leadership and later counsel, and SFIT itself was established to make sure that the West Coast had an equally powerful purveyor of intellectual capital as MIT. Tony wasn't really involved beyond signing the checks Obie wanted him to – incredibly stupid and naive, in hindsight – but he can at least be proud that he and his inventions helped fund what's become one of the most prestigious STEM-focused universities in the planet.
The stainless steel statue of Iron Man in front of 'Anthony Edward Stark' hall is, however, a bit much.
"I take it you approve, Mr. Stark?"
Tony turns to find Professor Granville walking up to him. She looks as stern as ever, further throwing Tony back to his years at MIT, where Granville used to teach – and taught him, specifically – before moving to San Francisco to pretty much raise SFIT from the ground up. In all honesty (and shame), he doesn't remember much of her; he was an equal parts abused and neglected teen super genius with way too much money and no regard for his own well-being, so much of his time at MIT – though fortunately, not the stuff he actually learned – is a complete blur to him. What he does remember about Granville is that, despite her standoffish exterior, she cared about him, and all her students – cared too much, in fact, to let him and his worst tendencies be too much of an obstacle to his own growth.
"Not really? Contrary to popular belief, I don't need to see a monument to my greatness built." –he says, then shrugs. "I'm well aware of how cool I am already."
Granville rolls her eyes at the shit-eating grin he's put on. "The enormous 'STARK' branding on the side of your company buildings would suggest otherwise." –she says, sarcastic. "How are you, Anthony?" –she asks, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lip.
"All things considered, I can't exactly complain." –he says. "Got the girl, got the suit, got the superpowered roommates…" –he trails off.
"Yes, I am slightly surprised you're not trudging along in that garish exoskeleton of yours."
Tony looks down at his outfit, black jeans and a blazer over a printed t-shirt with an image of a partially filled, tilted Erlenmeyer flask that says 'If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the precipitate'. Pepper collects dorky-ass science-themed shirts like that for him to wear at home. It's very cute. "Guess I wanted a quiet morning. This is incognito mode for me, these days. Everyone expects Iron Man to just drop from the sky in front of them – by the way, did you know I have to pay for repairs to the streets and sidewalks almost every time I do that? Four-hundred pounds of metal and human at high speed does not mesh well with concrete or pavement."
Granville tilts her head, ignoring his little tangent. "You almost seem like you could be part of the faculty."
He grins. "What can I say? Alien invasion aside, New York's been good to me."
"Almost suspiciously good, it seems. I must admit, I was genuinely shocked when you accepted our invitation for once. We usually send yours as a mere formality." –she says.
"Ow. Right in the shrapnel magnet." –he says, dramatically taking a hand to his chest.
"Yes, well. Despite your best efforts to unmake it of late, you had made your bed and laid in it for quite some time, Mr. Stark." –she points out. "You should expect some remaining skepticism to be a part of the process."
"Don't I know it." –he sighs. "In any event, this isn't exactly a social call."
"I figured as much." –Granville says. "I can't imagine you've personally come to scout for new blood for Stark Industries, and I believe Miss Potts has already confirmed her assistance, so…come to shop around for new Avengers among my students?"
It's a trap!, he thinks, Ackbar-style, noting her eyes, narrowed in suspicion. "Don't think that's how it works, honestly." –he says. "Becoming a superhero isn't exactly a career path you can pick out of uni; it's usually some combination of harrowing life events, dead parents, and a shit-ton of luck with some sort of radioactive animal bite or mad science experiment…" –he says, then shrugs. "Or absurd amounts of inherited wealth, I guess, though I kinda got dibs on that one."
She hums. "I suppose we ought to be thankful that some of it was thrown our way – even if it was by way of a man like Obadiah Stane."
"Honestly, I guess that's part of the reason I finally decided to come." –Tony admits. "I missed…a lot of shady crap going on under my roof for a very long time, and I'm still trying to sort through it all." –he says. "You've got something good going here, Granville; I guess I just needed to see it for myself. Be glad something good came out of that enormous shit-show."
He sighs, takes off his sunglasses. "To answer your question: I'm not really looking for new Avengers." –he says. "So far, we seem to rise up on our own, anyway; but I am hoping to find the next Bruce Banner, the next Lena Luthor, and – if you'll allow me the narcissism – the next me. The people who'll make a world that doesn't need superheroes anymore."
"For all our sake, I hope you find them." –she says. "But from what I've seen…I'm afraid the world may have hit a point of no return the minute you said to the world: 'I am Iron Man'."
Tony misses the opening ceremony – which is, historically, the norm for him – but this time it's purposeful. He wants to actually get to see the projects, not get mobbed by fans or brought on stage for some half-assed impromptu speech, so he spends a few minutes inspecting the show floor by himself in the meantime. The showcase is a cramped but exciting visual feast, colorful booths covering almost every square inch of Stark Hall, trying to catch the eye of investors, entrepreneurs, and faculty members alike. There's a bit of a manic energy to the proceedings, not unlike vendors peddling wares at a street market – each of the SFIT students, both current and former, trying their best to show the world the fruits of their brainiac labor.
He mentally jots down a few projects as he goes along – a powerful particle laser emitter, a mag-lev bike, some kind of chemical embrittlement spray for search and rescue purposes, among others – but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't purposefully looking for one in particular.
When he arrives at the booth, the Hamada kid is nowhere to be seen. It's a bit odd, but Tony vaguely recalls seeing the same last name as part of the admission hopefuls, who'll be presenting their project in the next thirty minutes, so perhaps Tadashi is supporting his…brother? Cousin? Whatever they are. His project is there, though, and the visual aids in the booth explain how to test it.
So he does.
"Ow." –he mutters.
The small red box at his feet beeps twice, and the panels retract so the robot inside can get to work. Tony immediately takes notes: the vinyl wrapping around the robot's chassis completely inflates in about five seconds, which is impressive, if an obtuse way to store it; at full height, the bot appears to be just over six feet tall, which combined with its impressive, downright huggable girth, could make traversal fairly inconvenient. Judging by the way it slowly scans its surroundings, it seems like the robot is a little lacking in processing speed as well.
Small potatoes, in terms of development issues. With the right funding and support, Baymax could be the next big thing.
The robot's torso is decidedly pear-shaped, with long, fat arms and short, stubby legs. It has a very small, oval head, whose only feature is a pair of camera lenses serving as its eyes, two black dots connected by a straight line. It blinks at him once it's ready.
"Hello; I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion." –it says, monotone yet comforting. "I was alerted to the need for medical attention when you said 'ow'. On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"
These days, it's about a constant three; the arc reactor is an incredible piece of technology, if he can say so himself, and he owes Yinsen his life for it several times over, but getting part of his sternum and ribcage shorn off in order to fit the damn thing in has come with a few side effects. He decides to be a little facetious. "Somewhere between a two and a four, I guess."
"Understood; I will perform a quick scan." –it says, and its eyes narrow, a dull, projected laser sweeping over his form. "Scan complete; I have detected a number of metallic foreign objects embedded in your chest cavity."
He notes that its tone never changes – purposeful, he imagines, so whatever news it delivers, good or bad, don't alarm its patients and potentially worsen the situation. "Oh, I'm well aware, trust me."
"Analyzing; I count seventy-six distinct metal shards and particulates held in place by an electromagnetic field generated by the apparatus in your chest." –Baymax says, extending its arm and pointing a marshmallow-y finger at his chest. "Is this a medical device?"
Tony hums. "You could consider it that. It's a miniaturized arc reactor powering a small electromagnet and keeping the shrapnel from entering my bloodstream and tearing up my cardiovascular system."
"Understood. I will update my medical database with this new information."
He snorts. "Highly doubt you'll run into another case like this, but sure thing, buddy."
"This device appears to have significantly reduced your lung capacity, and I detect recent evidence of minor tissue inflammation in the surrounding area."
"Yup, I've detected that too." –he admits.
"I recommend engaging in deep breathing exercises such as the 'pursed lip' and 'belly breathing' techniques. Also, consider substituting regular exercise for interval training." –Baymax says, and its abdomen lights up with a projected screen showcasing simplified renditions of the aforementioned exercises. "Note that these exercises cannot reverse lung damage or augment lung capacity, but they can help a patient use their lungs to their fullest capacity."
Tony knows all of these things, of course – he's lived with this condition for a couple years already, and the first thing he did after returning from Afghanistan and declaring that Stark Industries would no longer fabricate weapons was to get the implant evaluated and work with his physician to develop a new one that would minimize any adverse effects on his body. Still, he's very impressed by Baymax's ability to glean everything from just a quick scan; the medical database it's working with must be very comprehensive, and its AI must be up there – roughly 0.6 Turing, he'd say, about as smart as JARVIS was in his second or third iteration.
"Got it. Thanks, Baymax." –he says.
"I cannot deactivate until you say you are satisfied with your care." –the robot says.
Gotta work on that deactivation logic, Mr. Hamada, Tony thinks. It's a cute sort of goodbye phrase, but Tony can think of no less than half a dozen reasons a patient would be unable to deactivate the robot that way. "Then I'm satisfied with my care."
The robot nods – nice touch – and steps back into its case, deflating and collapsing into a portable form, wrapped once again by the shifting red panels. "It's impressive, isn't it?"
Tony turns, finding none other than Robert Callaghan observing him and his interaction with Baymax. "Robert Callaghan! How the hell are you?" –Tony greets, smirking. "Aren't you supposed to be at the presentation?"
Professor Callaghan is getting on in years – he was already in his late thirties when he taught Tony – but he hadn't truly looked old until very recently. More specifically, Callaghan lost his daughter Abigail, an Air Force pilot, about a year back in an undisclosed training exercise. Tony was half a world away at the time, tracking down and eliminating every member of the Ten Rings he could, so he didn't attend the funeral, but Pepper and Rhodey went in his stead.
It…wasn't an open casket sort of deal.
The father of modern robotics chuckles. "Truth be told, there's only one hopeful for the robotics course today – the younger brother of the young man who created Baymax, in fact."
"I think I might've seen something in the brochure." –Tony muses. "You think it runs in the family?"
"Intelligence? Perhaps. The late Hamadas worked for the LIFE Foundation, I believe, before their tragic passing, and Tadashi is a brilliant and dedicated student." –Callaghan says. "I've only briefly met the younger Mr. Hamada, but what I saw of his work was very intriguing. With the right support network around him, I believe he could revolutionize our field in a way that might even put your rather ostentatious combat shell to shame."
Tony snorts. "Not a fan of the red and gold, huh?"
"It's not that. I'm just concerned about the man underneath." –he says, turning towards the inactive nurse bot. "We've made so many advancements in so little time, and still we find a need for humans to risk their lives in such dangerous endeavors."
He gets the feeling that the man is no longer really talking about him. "I hate to say it, but…I think some things are always gonna need a human touch, Professor." –he says, gently.
Callaghan sighs. "I truly hope the future proves you wrong, Mr. Stark." –he says, then scowls just a bit, a hint of simmering anger flashing through his eyes, no doubt directed at whoever drafted his daughter for the secret project that unfortunately took her life. "But for now…I must admit that you're correct."
"Now presenting: Hiro Hamada, for the Robotics Course." –the PA says.
"I believe that's my cue." –Callaghan says, smiling, the shadow in his face completely gone. "I hope you'll watch the presentation along with us, Mr. Stark. I'm sure you'll see exactly what I saw in young Hiro."
Some trivia for y'all:
-Not to go into detail, but I have no doubt Tony's college years were bad. He was a teen prodigy, he had basically unlimited money and zero oversight, he'd throw himself into the wildest parties...if not for Rhodey and Maria's eventual intervention, there's a very good chance Tony could've died young.
-I'm kind of obsessed about Obadiah Stane and the lasting damage he'd have left on Tony and everything else he touched. I do genuinely think he cared about Tony like the son he never had, and he did good things with the power he had at Stark Industries, but his greed was ultimately stronger than everything else in him.
-Generally speaking, I think even beyond Tony and something like Wakanda, Earth-199999 is definitely ahead of ours in some areas. Robotics is definitely one of them.
-0.6 Turing is an easter egg! Who here knows to what it refers?
-The MCU kinda forgot about any lasting effects to Tony's health from the big ass piece of machinery he had to get stuck in his chest (even if he did remove it eventually), so I kinda wanted to expand on that, and Baymax of course gave me the perfect chance to do it! As mentioned, I think Tony suffers from cronic pain all around that area, as well as infrequent but uncomfortable swelling due to the casing rubbing up against his soft tissue. He's also lost a little bit of lung capacity, as his lungs and diaphragm had to shift a little bit to accomodate the reactor. Also, very rare, if he uses the Unibeam, the reactor can get really freakin' hot.
That's about it for now! I'm sure there's stuff I missed, so feel free to ask about anything you feel I might've missed! I don't have an update schedule beyong trying to update at least one of my fics every week, but I'll try to get through this one quickly. I hope you tune in for next time!
If you have any questions or comments, be sure to leave a review/comment, or reach out through my ask box on tumblr (darthkvznblogs)! It's open to all :D Until next time!