Authors Notes

Greetings, readers.

This story is going to focus on the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe, including the shows and other media, but from the perspective of the protagonist, feel free to make any suggestions of the stuff you want to see in the story, and if it is reasonable, I will fit it into the story.

As a budding writer, your reviews are very important to me, so I will start responding to them in the Author Notes Section with this chapter.

Warmaiden777— Thanks for the compliment, it means a lot. I Have played the game, and I loved it, but it wasn't the inspiration for the main character, it was just a coincidence, but I have plans to introduce another O.C down the road that will be heavily inspired by the game. Thanks for the suggestion. PM if you want spoilers.

RolePlayingGamesLover—Yeah, I thought so too, as far as intros go, this one wasn't my best, but at least you loving the rest of the story. I won't be adding the X men, because I'm not really familiar with the comics. I only watched X men: evolution, and the movies, and I felt Wouldn't be able to do them justice in the story. The rest of the shows you mentioned are going to be in the story.

Please feel free to leave a review, as it helps improve the story's quality.

CHAPTER FOUR

Revelations

Tony's POV

The garage was dimly lit, the soft hum of machinery and the occasional flicker of the holographic monitors providing the only ambient light. It had been a whirlwind since Monaco—a day of chaos, unanswered questions, and the weight of realization bearing down on me. I leaned back in the driver's seat of one of my classic hotrods, staring blankly ahead as I waited for Jarvis to complete his search.

"Query complete, sir," Jarvis' calm, synthesized voice announced, breaking the silence. The AI displayed the information on the screens before he launched into a detailed breakdown of the information he'd gathered.

"Ivan Vanko is the son of the late Anton Vanko," he began, his tone clinical as ever. "Anton Vanko was a physicist, who was deported back to Russia in the late 80s. his son was also a Physicist, though Ivan's record is marred by his criminal activities. His most recent, saw him arrested for selling weapons-grade plutonium to Pakistan and subsequently imprisoned for 15 years."

I rubbed my temples, trying to process everything. "Now, of all times," I muttered, almost to myself, "why would a Russian war criminal decide to come after me?"

A memory surfaced, raw and bitter. Ivan's words in prison, after his attack on Monaco still rang in my ears: "You come from a family of thieves." The audacity of that statement. My family, thieves? Yet there he was, wielding the arc reactor—our design. My father's legacy.

I leaned back in the seat, staring at the ceiling, but my vision began to blur. The edges of the room seemed to shift, like looking through fogged glass. The palladium core—I hadn't replaced it. A cold realization clawed at my chest, but before I could act, the door to the garage swung open.

Rhodey strode in, his face set in a mix of frustration and concern. "Tony, you gotta get upstairs and handle this situation now."

I blinked at him, trying to focus. His words felt distant, muffled, but I forced myself to listen.

"Listen," he continued, his voice firm. "I've been upstairs all day, trying to talk them out of rolling up here with everything they've got, and kicking down your door, to take your suits. They're tired of your games, man. You said no one else would have this tech for another 10 to 20 years. Well, guess what? Someone had it yesterday. It's not theoretical anymore. Yesterday was bad, and who the hell knows how much worse Monaco would've been if that other guy hadn't shown up?"

I could hear the edge in his tone, the urgency. But my body wasn't cooperating. The room felt like it was tilting, spinning. My chest tightened, my limbs felt heavy, and the edges of my vision darkened.

"Crap," I thought to myself, realization dawning. "The palladium core… I forgot to replace it."

I tried to push myself upright, but my body protested. Rhodey's voice cut through the haze, sharp and alarmed.

"Tony, are you even listening to me? Are you okay?"

"I'm good," I lied, my voice weak, barely above a whisper.

The moment I opened the car door and tried to stand, my legs buckled beneath me. Rhodey caught me before I hit the ground, his grip firm.

"Whoa, man!" he exclaimed, steadying me. "You sure you're okay? You don't look okay."

I gritted my teeth, frustration mixing with the faint sense of panic clawing at me. "Get me to the desk," I rasped.

He hesitated for a moment, concern etched into his face, but then he helped me across the room. Every step felt like dragging lead weights, but I made it to the workbench. My hands trembled as I fumbled with the burnt-out core, pulling it free and replacing it with a fresh one. The instant it clicked into place, a rush of relief coursed through me. The pain eased, and my vision cleared, though the weight of Rhodey's worried gaze didn't lift.

"Tony…" he started, his voice quieter now, more measured. "You don't have to do this alone. Let me help."

I met his eyes, the unspoken truth hanging between us. Help me do what? I'm a dead man walking. The palladium was poisoning me, and we both knew it. Instead of answering, I took a sip of the liquid chlorophyll sitting nearby, the bitter taste grounding me.

A thought struck me then, sharp and insistent—the guy who had intervened in Monaco. Whoever he was, he wasn't just anyone. I had to know more.

"So, anything on the new player?" I asked, setting the cup down and turning to face Rhodey.

He sighed, running a hand down his face. "Unfortunately, no. The guy's a ghost. No records, no sightings—nothing. Monaco was his debut, so to speak."

I nodded slowly, already spinning through the possibilities in my head. "No one's a ghost unless they're trying to be, that guy is too clean, it's like hes actively hiding," I muttered. "And if he's hiding, there's a trail somewhere. We just have to find it."

I turned back to the desk, my mind sharpening with purpose. "Jarvis," I said firmly, "run a search on our party crasher in Monaco. I want everything you can find—scour the internet, match height, weight, gait, everything. Until you find me a match."

"Right away, sir," Jarvis responded smoothly.

Rhodey shook his head, exhaling heavily. "Tony, I'm serious. You've gotta slow down man. This—whatever this is—it's going to kill you if you don't get help, you don't have to do this alone man, let me help man."

"I'll take care of it," I said dismissively, waving him off. "Go get some rest, Rhodey. I've got it handled; besides, Iron man doesn't need a sidekick, buddy."

Rhodey shook his head, he didn't look convinced, but he knew better than to argue. With one last concerned glance, he left the garage.

Once he was gone, I slumped back into my chair, the pain and exhaustion seeping back into my bones. I glanced at the digital files on Ivan Vanko, flipping through them absentmindedly. My mind wasn't on Vanko, though. It was on the mystery man from Monaco. Who was he? How on earth did he do all of that? Was he enhanced? An experimental super soldier maybe?

The questions gnawed at me as Jarvis quietly worked in the background, piecing together the puzzle. One way or another, I was going to find out who he was.

Jonathan's POV

The jet hummed softly as it soared through the afternoon sky above Monaco, cutting a path back home. The cabin was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that settled in after something life-changing had happened.

Penny and I were alone on the flight, her father having stayed behind to handle business—though, in reality, it was because my mom had called, demanding I return home immediately. He hadn't argued, which meant he agreed. That in itself was unsettling.

I glanced at Penny. She was staring out of the window, her face lit by the faint glow of the city lights below. She hadn't said much since we left, but I could tell the events of Monaco had shaken her. And why wouldn't they? Watching people die wasn't something anyone got used to, let alone a 17-year-old girl.

I exhaled slowly, leaning back in my seat. The fight was still replaying in my mind—the clash of metal, the crackle of energy, the weight of it all. I knew, logically, that what happened wasn't my fault. I had done what I could. But still, the thought gnawed at me: Could I have acted sooner?

In the movies, things were so much cleaner—people didn't die, or if they did, it wasn't shown. But that was the problem. I had been basing my expectations on PG-13 action sequences. This was real life. And in real life, people died.

I clenched my jaw, casting another glance at Penny. She was still lost in thought, but I made a silent promise to myself: I won't let innocent people die if I can help it.

"Jon."

Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned to her.

"What's up, Penny?"

She wasn't looking out the window anymore. Instead, her gaze was locked onto me, intense, serious. My stomach twisted at the look on her face.

"So," she said, her voice steady, "when were you going to tell me?"

Something inside me froze. I kept my expression neutral, but my mind raced. Could she know? No—that wasn't possible. I had made sure to cover my face during the fight. I had been careful.

Okay. Play it cool.

"Tell you what, Penny?" I asked, forcing feigned innocence into my voice.

Her hand slammed against the armrest. I flinched.

"Don't play dumb, Jon!" she snapped. "I know you have powers. We all saw you fighting that madman to save Tony Stark."

My heartbeat kicked up a notch. My throat felt dry. I stared at her, keeping my face unreadable, but inside? Shit.

Had I been that careless?

A deep sigh left my lips. No point in lying now. "What gave me away?" I asked, resignation creeping into my voice.

Penny let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. "What gave you away? Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that you 'suddenly' had to go to the bathroom during the attack? And then, not even a minute later, a guy in a black hoodie and black pants just happens to show up, fight off a supervillain, and disappear just as fast?"

I sighed again, rubbing my temple. God, I was stupid, how did I think that was a good disguise?

But Penny wasn't done. She crossed her arms, leaning toward me, eyes narrowed.

"Jon, I'm your best friend. I mean, did you really think I wouldn't recognize you? I could pick you out from a hundred people, even in disguise. The way you walk, the way you carry yourself—I can always tell it's you. A hoodie and a bandanna aren't fooling me."

She was on a roll now, frustration pouring out in full force. I let her vent, knowing she needed to get it all out.

Then, her voice dropped slightly.

"Why, Jon?"

Her tone wasn't angry anymore. It was hurt.

"Why didn't you tell me? Do you not trust me anymore?"

And just like that, I felt like absolute shit.

Penny had been there for me since day one. The one person besides my parents who had my back no matter what. And now she thought I didn't trust her? I had to fix this.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and moved over to sit beside her. Gently, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

"Come now, you know that's not true," I said softly. "I trust you more than anyone, besides my parents. You've always had my back, and for that, you will always have my trust."

She didn't say anything, but I could feel her relax slightly.

I pulled back just enough to look at her. "I didn't tell you because… my powers just awakened, Penny. I've been trying to understand them before telling anyone. Not even my parents know yet."

Her eyes widened slightly at that. She searched my face, as if trying to tell if I was lying. When she saw I wasn't, she let out a small, shaky breath.

For a few moments, neither of us spoke. The hum of the jet surrounded us, a soft but constant reminder that we were still hurtling forward, both literally and figuratively.

Penny swallowed, looking down at her lap. "I just… I don't want you to go through this alone, Jon, I mean, friends look out for each other, and what kind of friend would I be if I let you go through this alone."

I gave her a small, reassuring smile. "I won't, from now on, you and I are now a team."

She met my eyes, and for the first time since Monaco, she smiled back.

Penny let out a soft sigh, the last of her tension seeming to melt away as she rested her head against my chest. I felt her breathe in deeply before she spoke.

"You know," she murmured, her voice quieter now, "you're going to have to tell them."

I knew exactly who she meant.

"The last thing you need is for them to figure out you have superpowers on their own. Trust me, they won't take it as well as I did."

That made me chuckle. I tilted my head down, grinning, and playfully poked her ribs.

"You took it well?" I teased.

She let out a laugh, squirming slightly as she batted my hand away. "Well, all things considered, I think I went easy on you."

I laughed outright at that. "You know what? You're right," I admitted. Then, more seriously, I added, "I think I'll tell them. I'll do it when I get home."

Penny nodded in approval before suddenly sitting up, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

"So," she said, practically bouncing in her seat, "what exactly are your powers? What can you do?"

I smirked. Here we go.

For the next five minutes, I laid it all out for her—the extent of what I had discovered so far. I told her how I could lift at least sixty tons, though I wasn't sure of my actual limit yet. How I could fly, and if I really pushed myself, I could break the sound barrier. My reflexes? Just as fast. My body was durable enough to shrug off tank rounds. I could breathe in space, and my healing factor allowed me to recover from wounds at an insane speed.

By the time I was finished, Penny was staring at me, completely slack-jawed. Her mouth hung open in pure, stunned awe.

"That's awesome," she breathed.

Then, with a wide grin, she added, "You do realize your abilities basically make you Superman, right? Just, you know, minus the heat vision and all that extra stuff."

I chuckled at that. The fact that she was geeking out over this was honestly kind of hilarious. But at the same time, it made me… happy. This was part of what bonded us when we were younger—our shared love for this kind of thing. And now? It was real.

"Oh yeah, I'm only going to get stronger the older I get, judging by my daily growth, I feel myself getting stronger everyday" I said, raising a brow. "And the more I push my limits, the stronger and faster I'll become."

Penny's mouth was still open, and I was just about to poke fun at her stunned expression when she finally spoke.

"So, basically," she said slowly, "what you're saying is… if you hit the gym, you'll get even stronger. And faster."

"Yep," I replied simply.

She blinked.

Then a slow, mischievous grin spread across her face. "Huh. Well, mister, do I have a crazy idea for you, but I think I'll wait till later to tell you, it will be a surprise."

I narrowed my eyes in amusement. "Oh, this ought to be interesting," I said, smirking. "Well? Spill it, you know I'm bad with surprises, or should I tickle it out of you?"

Penny's eyes widened as she giggled. "You wouldn't dare, Miller."

I wiggled my fingers menacingly, and she immediately broke, laughing as she tried to squirm away.

"Okay, okay, Jon, you win!" she giggled.

I crossed my arms, waiting expectantly. "I'm listening."

She took a deep breath, then sat up straighter, looking serious now.

"I was thinking of asking Daddy for one of his abandoned factory warehouses," she said. "We could convert it into a workshop for our projects. There's one I've had my eye on since the beginning of the year."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She nodded. "It used to be used for storing military weapons that Daddy's company supplied to the U.S. military. But ever since Mom died, he shut it down. It was one of her last wishes—for him to stop selling weapons."

I frowned slightly, hearing the emotion in her voice, but she quickly shook it off and continued.

"It's been sitting there, completely unused. Now, it might not have state-of-the-art security yet, but I could ask Daddy to have it upgraded for us. Shouldn't take more than a day."

I blinked. "Wait—you could get that done today?"

She smirked. "All I have to do is call Daddy."

I listened as Penny spoke, her words measured and deliberate. It was clear she had given this a lot of thought—probably spent all of yesterday planning it out in her head. That explained why she'd been so quiet. She wasn't just processing everything that had happened; she was plotting.

She continued, her tone brimming with excitement.

"The warehouse could be our base of operations," she said. "We'd finally have our own place to work on our projects, and if you want, we could even convert a small space into your gym."

Then, with a teasing smirk, she added, "Speaking of which… what does a guy who can lift almost a hundred tons even use for a decent workout? What's heavy enough to give you a challenge?"

I chuckled at that, shaking my head. "Trains," I admitted casually. "or, the trailers, at least. Still having trouble lifting the locomotives. But soon enough, I'll be able to do it effortlessly."

She nodded, clearly impressed. "That works, I guess."

Then, shifting gears back to her plan, she said, "Anyway, about the workshop—I already made a list of all the equipment we're gonna need. Fabricators, heavy-duty welding tools,3d scanners, a small assembly line, milling machines, and a bunch of other stuff, like materials and other machinery to produce our own stuff."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "And your father?" I asked. "He's cool with you blowing his money like that? Most of that stuff is close to a hundred grand."

Penny laughed.

"Hundred grand?" she repeated, smirking. "Try a million."

I blinked. "One million?"

She waved it off like it was nothing. "Yep, and no, he won't mind. He's always trying to spoil me rotten—tries to make up for all the times he's not around. Last birthday, he wanted to buy me a Bugatti, like, why would I need something so ostentatious."

My jaw nearly dropped. "An actual Bugatti, and you refused that?"

"Obviously." She rolled her eyes. "I mean, it's not my style, besides, I Love my Porsche. The Bugatti was roughly the same price as the equipment I'm asking for, and I rarely ask him for anything, so I'm sure he'll be fine with it."

I nodded slowly, but in my head, I couldn't help but think, damn, Mr. Burns really does spoil her rotten. The fact that Penny had somehow managed to stay down to earth—most of the time—was a miracle in itself.

The next eight hours passed in a blur. The private jet finally touched down in New York around 2 PM, and after checking in at customs, we made our way to Penny's car.

As we pulled up in front of my parents' apartment, Penny parked the car, then turned to me with a smirk.

"So," she said, leaning against the steering wheel. "Do you need emotional support? I can come in with you, sit with you and hold your hand."

I chuckled. "Nah, I'm good, but thanks for the offer," I said, reaching for my bag. "If anything goes down, I'll call you."

She laughed. "Alright. I'm gonna call Daddy and set up the warehouse. I'll check in later tonight with an update."

"Sounds good." I gave her a nod, then stepped out of the car, waving as she drove off.

With a deep breath, I turned to face the building. Alright. Let's do this.

I stepped inside, making my way through the lobby. The security guard, Tyrone, sat at his usual spot—middle-aged, dark-skinned, balding but built like a linebacker. He was a friendly guy, well-liked by the tenants.

"Yo, Jon, how you doing?" he greeted, nodding as I passed.

"Hey, Tyrone," I said with a small wave before heading toward the stairs.

The moment I stepped inside the apartment, a sense of familiarity washed over me. The place was spacious, luxurious but warm. Home sweet home.

"Mom! Dad! I'm home!" I called out, making my way to my room.

As I dropped my luggage onto my bed, my father's voice rang out from the dining room.

"In here, son!"

I took a breath. My nerves were definitely kicking in now.

Just tell them. It's not like they're going to freak out or anything, I told myself.

Yeah. Right.

I stepped into the dining room, and there they were—sitting at the table, waiting for me. The moment I entered, they both greeted me warmly and motioned for me to take a seat.

I sat down, and the questions began.

So how was Monaco? Was I okay? Did I know how worried they had been after seeing the news about the attack?

I answered their questions, but something felt off. The way they were talking to me—too warm, too carefully friendly and asking a lot of questions.

My parents had always been loving, but this was different. Like they were trying to coax something out of me.

And then, as I sat there listening, it clicked.

They knew.

Penny was right. If she had figured it out, then of course they would too.

I exhaled slowly, steeling myself. Alright. Here we go.

"So," I said, looking between them, "You know. How long have you known?"

My parents exchanged glances.

"Known what, Jon?" my mother asked, her voice carefully neutral.

I chuckled. "Come on, Mom. My powers. I know you know. How long?"

My father sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Since yesterday," he admitted. "We saw your fight on the news, and it clicked."

I let out another chuckle—half amused, half relieved. "And here I was, stressing the hell out, preparing to tell you everything," I said, shaking my head. "Turns out, you already knew."

I leaned forward slightly, my gaze flickering between my parents as I asked the question weighing on my mind.

"So, what gave me away?"

My father exhaled, his sharp eyes locking onto mine.

"Your fighting stance," he said simply. "The one I taught you. Only a few people know it. The moment I saw you use it during the fight, I knew it was you."

I nodded, accepting his words. That made sense. I had trained under him in the past weeks—there was no way he wouldn't recognize my movements.

Then my mother finally spoke, her voice tight with worry.

"What were you thinking, Jon?" she asked, her tone laced with frustration and fear. "You could have died. This isn't one of your comic books where the heroes always save the day—you could have been seriously hurt."

I met her gaze, my expression firm. "I had no choice, Mom. He was killing people. I couldn't just stand there and watch while he kept going—not when I had the power to stop him."

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she took a steady breath. "Jon," she said, softer this time. "I'm not saying that what you did was wrong. I'm saying that if you're going to do this… you need to understand that it's not a game. This isn't some story where everything works out in the end. It's real life. And in real life, every choice has consequences—good and bad. Be careful when you decide to step into danger."

My father nodded in agreement; his expression serious. "Your mother's right, son." He leaned forward slightly, studying me. "How are you feeling? Seeing people die… it's never easy. Especially the first time."

I swallowed and forced a small, reassuring smile. "I'm good, Dad."

But my mother saw through me instantly. Her features softened, and she reached across the table, placing a gentle hand over mine.

"Jon… it's okay," she said, her voice warm and understanding. "Feeling regret, feeling pain—that isn't weakness. You don't have to pretend with us. You can tell us."

I hesitated, looking between them before finally letting out a slow breath.

"I wasted time," I admitted, my voice low. "I could have saved them. When I saw the terrorist step onto the track, I was… excited." I clenched my fists, guilt washing over me. "I thought I was about to see Iron Man in action. But then—then he started killing the race drivers. I could have stopped him if I'd acted sooner, I could have saved them all."

Before I could say anything else, my mother stood abruptly and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace.

"You couldn't have known, Jon," she murmured, holding me close. "It's not on you."

My father nodded, his voice steady and firm. "She's right, son. You couldn't have known. And in the future, you need to remember—no matter how powerful you are, you can't save everyone. No matter how hard you try. What matters is that you do what you can, to the best of your ability. And that? That's enough."

I took in his words, letting them sink deep. He was right. I had to focus on saving who I could—not dwell on the ones I couldn't.

He leaned back in his chair then, his expression shifting from somber to analytical.

"Now," he said, his tone turning more instructive, "about your fight with that terrorist in Monaco."

I sat up straighter, listening intently.

"I have to say, your aerial combat needs work. And your overall tactics? Also need refining." He folded his arms. "Once you engage an enemy, your main priority should be ensuring that the people you're protecting are out of harm's way. Clearing a crowded area or leading the fight to a more secluded space should always be step one."

I nodded, absorbing the lesson.

"After that," he continued, "your next priority should be neutralizing your opponent as quickly and efficiently as possible. The longer a fight drags on, the more dangerous it becomes—for everyone, including you."

I nodded again, this time more firmly. "Got it."

My mother sighed; exasperation clear in her voice as she turned to my father.

"Now is not the time to be giving him tactical advice," she scolded.

My father chuckled, shaking his head. "Come now, honey. You know our son—he's already made up his mind. Nothing either of us says is going to change that." He gestured toward me. "The best we can do is make sure he at least does it right."

I could see the reluctance in my mother's expression, the way she pursed her lips, but before she could argue further, my father shifted his focus back to me.

"You know," he said, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, "we never actually asked what your powers are exactly. What can you do?"

I straightened slightly, thinking for a moment before answering.

"Well… I'm strong. Really strong. Right now, I can lift at least sixty tons, but I've noticed that the more I push myself, the stronger I get."

My mother's eyes widened, and my father let out a low whistle, clearly impressed.

I continued, warming up to the topic. "I can fly—really fast. I'm sure if I pushed myself, I could break the sound barrier."

My father nodded in appreciation, while my mother's expression was caught somewhere between amazement and worry.

"My skin is also impenetrable," I added. "Bullets bounce right off me; I'm sure missiles do too." I paused. "Though, to be fair, I haven't fully tested that one out yet."

I deliberately left out the part about being able to breathe in space… or the fact that I could live for over ten thousand years. That felt like too much information for them to handle all at once.

Silence stretched between us as my parents processed what I had just told them. Finally, my father let out a slow breath and leaned back slightly.

"Well, damn, son," he said, shaking his head. "That's a lot to take in. But damn."

Then he turned to my mother, a knowing look in his eyes.

"Rose," he said, "See what I mean, about him already having made up his mind? if you were in his shoes—if you had that kind of power—would you really be able to just stand by while people got hurt? Or would you help?"

My mother sighed, rubbing her temples. "Sometimes I hate it when you are right," she muttered.

But after a pause, she reluctantly admitted, "Fine. I get it." She exhaled and stood. "You boys talk shop—I'm going to make some late lunch."

As she started toward the kitchen, she turned back and added, "One last thing, darling. You might want to tell Penny about your powers. She's your best friend, and if she finds out you kept this from her, when she's shared everything with you, she might feel betrayed, and she's not going to be happy."

I chuckled. "No worries there. She already knows."

My mother froze mid-step and turned back, frowning. "She knows? You told her before us?"

I raised my hands in surrender. "I didn't tell her. She figured it out yesterday and confronted me about it on the flight back."

My mother let out an exasperated sigh but didn't push further as she disappeared into the kitchen.

As soon as she was gone, my father leaned in again, his voice serious.

"Another thing, son," he said. "I get that you have all this power, and I know how it feels to think you're unstoppable. But always remember—there's always going to be someone stronger than you. That is how the world works." His eyes locked onto mine. "Never stop improving. Always improve your fighting position."

I nodded, absorbing his words. "I will, Dad."

"Good," he said, satisfied. Then he relaxed slightly and asked, "So… when did this happen? Your powers, I mean?"

I leaned back, recalling the moment everything changed. "It started during that bully incident," I admitted. "That's when my powers first kicked in. After that, I started testing them out—flying around the city, lifting trains at the trainyard…" I smirked. "And, of course, training with you."

My father chuckled at that. "Well, you've been busy, I see. That's good." Then his expression turned more analytical. "One issue, though. We're going to have to adjust your fighting style. You need to learn how to fight while flying."

I grinned as my mind instantly filled with images of Goku and Vegeta, their aerial battles flashing through my head. That would be badass.

I nodded enthusiastically. "Sounds good."

My father smirked. "I'll put together a plan." Then his expression turned thoughtful. "Oh, and you might want to stop going to the trainyard. That place is way too open—it's only a matter of time before someone sees you working out. You need a hidden location." He paused, rubbing his chin. "I think I ca—"

I cut him off, already having an answer. "Penny's got a plan for that."

My father raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah, she's working on getting us a warehouse," I explained. "One with security and everything. That way, we have a place to work on our projects… and I'll have a place to train, she said she's going to call later."

My father chuckled, shaking his head. "That Penny… she's a smart girl, Jon." He leaned back, a teasing glint in his eye. "If you were smart, you'd marry her as soon as you two are old enough. She's a force of nature, and the two of you would be a power couple."

I immediately felt my face heat up. "Dad she's just a friend," I groaned, shaking my head.

He laughed. "She's just really close friend, huh?"

"Yes, I mean no, not like that." I corrected quickly.

"And a really beautiful one too," he added, smirking.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Yes, she is, but she's my best friend, Dad."

He chuckled. "Your mother was my best friend too, Jon, and look how we ended up. She's perfect for you, and you for her. You complement each other."

I rolled my eyes and changed the subject, steering the conversation toward random topics.

But at the back of my mind, I couldn't shake what he had said.

I had thought about it before, of course. The idea of Penny being more than just my best friend.

But… I didn't want to risk it.

If I told her how I really felt and she didn't feel the same way, it would change everything. And I wasn't sure I could handle that.

My mother reentered the room about thirty minutes later, her presence bringing a sense of warmth as the smell of freshly cooked food filled the air. She set the plates down, and we all gathered around, eating together and talking about various things—some lighthearted, some a little more serious. My father cracked a few jokes, which earned him a playful eye roll from my mother, while I listened and chimed in occasionally. It was a simple moment, but one I appreciated.

Once we finished our meal, I excused myself and headed to my room, the familiar comfort of my space wrapping around me as I settled into my desk chair. The glow of my dual monitors lit up my face as I booted up my computer. On my secondary screen, I put on The Incredibles, letting the familiar soundtrack and action scenes play in the background. On my primary screen, though, I focused on something far more important—research.

It was time to take this whole superhero thing seriously.

Sure, I couldn't stop everything, but the major events? The ones I knew would send the world down a dark path? Those, I could change.

I began my search, fingers flying across the keyboard as I dove into the internet, hunting for key figures—individuals and groups that could make or break this world's future.

First, the X-Men.

I frowned as I scoured through articles, only to find… nothing. No mention of Charles Xavier, no stories about mutants or the X-Gene. That was unexpected. But at the same time, a huge relief. A world with both Inhumans and X-Men would've been chaotic. One headache down.

Next, the Fantastic Four.

They existed, or at least, they would—but they hadn't gone to space yet. No cosmic radiation, no Reed Richards stretching himself across skyscrapers, no Thing smashing through walls. Not yet, anyway. Good. That wasn't something I planned on interfering with.

Then, I moved on to something… someone more immediate.

Peter Parker.

I fully expected nothing to show up—after all, in the MCU, Peter would've been eight or nine years old by now, far too young to have any online presence. But what I saw on my screen made my breath hitch.

There he was. Peter Parker.

But not as a little kid.

A teenager.

And not just any teenager—his face was unmistakable. I was staring at the actor, Tobey Maguire. Except… he was younger. Much younger. If I had to guess, he was around fifteen or sixteen.

"What the hell…?" I muttered under my breath, staring at the screen.

This wasn't right. This wasn't the MCU's Peter Parker. How the hell did he fit into this timeline?

I shook my head and kept digging.

Norman Osborn.

His name popped up immediately. Alive. Still in charge of his company.

Okay, so that meant if this Peter Parker was about to get his powers, or had just gotten them, then Norman could very well be on his way to becoming the Green Goblin. But… would he follow the same path as the movies? Or would his fate be different in this new reality?

I sat back, rubbing my chin. There was no way I'd be able to predict how every event would play out, but one thing was certain: I couldn't just sit back and watch things unfold like a passive observer. No way in hell.

The big events—the ones that truly threatened the world—I would not let them happen.

Loki.

Ultron.

The Sokovia Accords.

Thanos.

Gorr the God Butcher.

And any other threats lurking in the shadows.

I needed to be ready.

More than that—I needed allies.

A team.

Not just a random collection of heroes, but people I could trust. People who shared my vision for what this world could be. I wasn't going to be some rogue operator fighting alone in the dark. No, I needed a foundation, something that could stand against the storms to come.

This was now my reality. My universe. My home.

And I refused to see it fall apart.

I couldn't just be a survivor, someone who stood idly by, minding his own business while the world burned.

No. If that meant I had to become its protector, then so be it.

But for that, I needed to become even stronger.

I leaned back in my chair, deep in thought. My power was growing by the day—my strength was increasing, my durability was unmatched, and my speed was improving. But brute force alone wasn't going to be enough.

No, I needed more.

I needed something to even the playing field against the monsters I knew were coming.

Always seek to improve your fighting position.

My father's words echoed in my mind, firm and unwavering.

And I intended to take them to heart.

Doctor Strange came to mind—the future Sorcerer Supreme, a man who, through sheer mastery of magic, had managed to go toe-to-toe with Thanos wielding four Infinity Stones. That was insane.

I wasn't delusional enough to think I could match Strange in pure magical talent. Magic probably took years—decades—to master. But if I could learn even a fraction of what he knew and pair it with my existing abilities? That would make me a whole different kind of powerhouse.

A true force to be reckoned with.

But that wasn't the only thing I needed to figure out.

I needed a costume. An armored uniform. Something durable, something flexible, something that would allow me to move freely without sacrificing protection.

My first thought? A vibranium weave suit.

It was the strongest metal on Earth, practically indestructible, lightweight, and able to absorb kinetic energy. Perfect for my intended use.

Except for one small problem.

No way in hell were the Wakandans going to just hand over their most precious resource to an outsider. To them, I'd be a colonizer, a foreigner trying to take what wasn't mine. They wouldn't trust me.

I leaned back in my chair, frustration creeping in. Damn it. If Vibranium was out of the question, what was my next best option?

Then—It hit me.

A spark of realization, a flash of genius so sudden that I jolted upright in my seat.

"Freaking Klaue!" I blurted out, my voice filled with excitement. "Why didn't I think of that before?"

Ulysses Klaue.

The infamous Vibranium smuggler. The same bastard Ultron bought Vibranium from.

I couldn't help but chuckle as the plan pieced itself together in my mind.

I wasn't going to buy it from him.

Oh, hell no.

I was going to dismantle his entire operation. I was going to take what he had stolen and make sure he never did business again.

If I pulled this off, I wouldn't just get my hands on Vibranium—I'd be cutting Ultron off from one of his biggest resources. No Vibranium for Ultron meant no Sokovia falling from the sky.

That was a major win.

But then my mind backtracked, and I frowned.

Shit.

No Vibranium for Ultron meant no Vision. No Mind Stone merging with J.A.R.V.I.S. to create the more powerful AI hero.

One life never being born in exchange for thousands being saved.

I exhaled slowly, leaning forward, hands clasped together.

Yeah, I could live with that.

But there was another problem.

Funding.

Short-term, Penny and I had been using her dad's money to bankroll our projects, but that wasn't sustainable. We needed a steady stream of cash flow—something independent, something that would keep us operational long-term.

And I had just the idea.

In the short term? We'd target crime bosses in New York. Hack into their accounts, drain their funds, and leave their organizations in shambles. Kill two birds with one stone—cripple the criminal underworld and fund our operations at the same time.

Long-term? Investments. I thought to myself.

One advantage of being from a different universe years ahead with similar events? I knew exactly which companies were about to explode in value. Even living on the streets, I heard things, and I intended to utilize that knowledge.

Tech startups? Google, Tesla, Space X, Instagram, Tinder. Cryptocurrency, like coin—all of them were on the verge of dominating their respective markets. A few well-placed investments now, and we'd have billions in just a few years.

With resources, with the right allies, with the right strategy—I could change everything. Not just this world. This universe. I could reshape it into something better.

The movie on my second screen had ended, the credits rolling across the screen. The room had grown darker, the last bit of sunlight fading beyond the horizon.

I shut down my computer and stood up, walking over to my window.

A cool breeze hit my face as I slid it open. The city stretched before me, bathed in the dim glow of streetlights and neon signs.

Without hesitation, I stepped forward and launched myself into the night sky, the wind rushing past me as I soared higher, my heart pounding with exhilaration.

This wasn't just about survival anymore.

That part of me—the one who only wanted to endure—was gone.

The protector had risen.

Rose's POV

The kitchen was quiet, save for the low hum of the microwave as it worked on the bag of popcorn inside. The sun had long since set, and the darkened sky outside was a reminder that another day had passed. But my mind wasn't on the time. It was on my son.

My Jon had powers now. Bast preserve us all. I thought to myself.

The thought weighed heavily on me. This was dangerous. If my people ever learned of this, they would not stay idle. No, knowing them, they would fight over him—over his power, over what he represented. His abilities could shift the political balance of Wakanda in ways I didn't even want to think about. And the worst part? I knew exactly how they would react.

They would try to control him. Shape him. Mold him into something that served their interests.

I couldn't let that happen. Not after what my father did to me. I closed my eyes, memories flashing through my mind like ghosts that refused to rest.

"My daughter has fallen in love with a colonizer." His voice, laced with disgust, echoed in my head. "This is disgraceful. This cannot stand. I will not allow this."

That was all it took. Just those words—sharp and final—before he disowned me completely.

He had looked at me, the daughter he had once called his pride, and cast me aside like I was nothing.

He wanted nothing to do with me, my colonizer husband, or my bastard child.

With a single sentence, he erased me from his life, from my family, from Wakanda itself.

That rejection? That betrayal? It cut deep. But what hurt most—what still haunted me—was what my younger sister, Okoye, had done. She hadn't fought for me. Hadn't even spoken to me.

She had just stood there, silent and unwavering at our father's side, and watched as I was banished from everything I had ever known.

I had lost them all that day. And yet, a twisted part of me wondered—what would my father think now? If he could see the grandson he had once rejected? If he knew the power Jon now wielded?

Would he regret his words? Would he try to claim Jon as his? No. I knew better. Wakanda could never know about Jon. I would not let them sink their claws into him.

He was my son. And they had no place in his life, not anymore.

The microwave beeped, snapping me out of my thoughts. I took the bag, carefully opening it as steam rose from inside, then poured the warm popcorn into a bowl.

Leaving the kitchen, I walked into the living room, where Derick was already reclined on the sofa, waiting for me. He had the movie ready to play, his relaxed posture inviting.

Smiling softly, I slid into the space between his legs, settling against his chest as I nestled into him, the bowl of popcorn resting in my lap.

As the movie started, Derick's fingers found their way to my braids, gently playing with them like he always did when he was deep in thought.

Then he spoke. "Rose, you know what this means, right?" His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. A warning.

I already knew where this was going. "If your people find out about Jon, they—especially your father—are going to do everything in their power to influence him. They might even twist the truth just to get him on their side."

He let out a slow breath. "Given your father's hatred for our children and for me, Jon would only be used as a tool."

I turned my head slightly, my eyes meeting his. "I know," I admitted softly. Derick's gaze was steady, unwavering. "So what do you suggest, honey?"

There was a pause. Then, his answer came, firm and certain. "I think it's time Jon knew who you really are. The sooner he hears from you, the better."

I tensed slightly, looking away. Was he serious? "And tell him what, exactly?" I asked bitterly. "That I was a War Dog who fell in love with a foreigner and was exiled for it?" I shook my head. "No. He's not ready, Der."

Derick chuckled softly at that, his fingers still idly twisting one of my braids.

"Are you sure he's not ready?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement. "Or are you the one who's not ready?"

I inhaled sharply. That hit deeper than I expected. I thought about it for a moment, then exhaled slowly.

"I just don't want to overwhelm him," I admitted. "Let's wait. Let him process his powers first. Let him deal with what happened yesterday. Then we'll tell him."

Derick considered this for a few seconds, then nodded slightly.

"Alright," he conceded. But then his voice dropped, serious again. "But what if the Wakandans find out about him first?"

I didn't respond immediately. My eyes drifted back to the TV screen, though I wasn't really watching the movie anymore.

"How would they?" I countered. "So far, Jon hasn't revealed his identity to anyone but Penny and us. And it's not like they would recognize him even if he fought without a mask."

I took a breath, my voice firm.

"We should be okay for a while."

Derick's voice cut through the dimly lit room, his tone calm but laced with something serious.

"Speaking of people knowing about Jon," he said, fingers still idly playing with my braids, "I think SHIELD knows too."

The words sent a shock through me like a bolt of electricity.

I sat up abruptly, twisting in his arms to face him fully, my eyes wide with disbelief.

"What?" I breathed. "How?" Derick shrugged, his expression unreadable, but there was an edge in his eyes—one that told me this wasn't just a hunch.

"Not sure," he admitted. "But it seems we're being watched."

My stomach twisted into a knot.

"Watched?" I repeated, my voice just above a whisper.

Derick nodded, his eyes flicking briefly toward the window before settling back on me. "There's a surveillance team posted in the building across from us. They thought they were being slick, but I trained most of those guys. I know how they think, and I know where to look."

His jaw tightened slightly, and I could tell he wasn't just concerned—he was angry.

"This presents a new problem, Rose." He sighed, leaning back slightly. "This means SHIELD knows Jon's identity."

I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling up inside me. "Damn it," I muttered under my breath, running a hand down my face.

Derick stayed quiet, letting me process, but I could already see the wheels turning in his head.

Finally, I exhaled sharply.

"So… what now?" A slow, knowing smile crept across his face. "We wait," he said simply.I narrowed my eyes at him. Wait?

"Knowing the Director," he continued, "he's probably watching Jon to see if he can be an asset. And if he is, he's gonna wait until Jon turns eighteen before making a move to recruit him."

My entire body stiffened.

No.

No, no, no.

Without thinking, I shot to my feet, the bowl of popcorn nearly toppling off the couch.

"No!" I snapped, stomping my foot against the carpet. "Jon will not join SHIELD!"

The mere thought of it sent a cold, suffocating fear through me.

I couldn't let that happen.

I wouldn't.

"We can't lose another child to them, Derick!" My voice wavered, but I refused to break. Derick's face softened immediately.

"Rose—"

"We didn't even get to bury Lora, Der. We can't lose another child to shield." My voice cracked, my chest tightening painfully.

The memory of my daughter—my sweet, strong, brilliant girl—flashed through my mind, and it felt like a dagger to my heart.

I felt his arms wrap around me before I even realized he had moved. His warmth, his presence—it grounded me, just like it always did.

"Shhh… it's okay," he murmured, holding me close. His chin rested gently on top of my head as one of his hands rubbed soothing circles against my back. "I hear you, Rose. I hear you."

I clung to him, burying my face in his chest, trying to steady my breathing.

"It won't happen," he promised, his voice firm. "I won't let it happen."

I squeezed my eyes shut, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Don't worry about it, Honey," he continued, his voice quieter now. "I'll take care of it."

I nodded against him, my grip tightening.

"I know, babe," I whispered. "Thank you."

He pressed a kiss against my temple, then hugged me even tighter, as if trying to shield me from the weight of our reality.

After a long moment, he exhaled and pulled back just enough to meet my gaze.

"Now," he said, giving me a small smirk, "forget about SHIELD. Let's finish our movie, yeah?"

A weak chuckle escaped me, and I wiped at my eyes before nodding.

"Yeah."

He pulled me back down onto the couch, wrapping his arms around me once more as we settled into our previous position.

I let out a slow breath, allowing myself to relax against him.

For now, SHIELD and Wakanda could wait.

Tonight, I just wanted to be here, safe, with the love of my life.