Stark Industries R&D Labs – 8:47 A.M.
For once, the usually bustling Stark R&D floor was quiet.
Too quiet.
Which, for Peter Parker and Ned Leeds, usually meant trouble.
They had commandeered one of the smaller prototype labs for their "totally safe and 100% school-appropriate" robotics project which, naturally, had already gone wildly off-script.
"Okay," Peter said, gesturing at a sketch on his tablet. "Hear me out. We make it small, mobile, flexible, like a miniature Transformer! It can roll, crawl, maybe even wall-crawl!"
Ned frowned. "Yeah, but that's so… expected. What if we made it look like us? Little robot versions! I could give mine the ultimate dad-joke protocol."
Peter blinked. "You want to make a tiny robot you?"
"Yes!" Ned said proudly. "It's genius! We could start a whole line. Leeds-Bots!"
"That's terrifying," Peter deadpanned. " a robot army with your face."
Before Ned could fire back, a muffled boom echoed from the other side of the lab.
Both teens turned slowly. Wade Wilson was standing in front of a smoking table, holding a test tube in each hand and looking unreasonably pleased with himself.
"Science!" Wade declared triumphantly. "Sometimes it explodes! Sometimes it just burns eyebrows!"
"Mr. Wilson," Peter groaned, "what did you mix?"
"I don't know, but it fizzed!" Wade chirped in an impeccable fake British accent. "Also, your beakers were talking to me."
Ned sighed. "You can't mix random chemicals, Wade! This is robotics, not chemistry!"
"Exactly," Wade said cheerfully. "That's why I'm helping! I'm thinking—listen—robot cat. Or robot bear. Maybe with a jetpack. Sir Whiskers of Starkonia!"
Peter stared. Ned considered.
Then, in perfect unison: "We're in."
"Of course you are," Wade muttered proudly, brushing soot off his mask.
"Okay," Ned said, already at his computer. "I'll handle the AI."
Peter grinned. "I'll do the body and mechanics."
"And I," Wade announced dramatically, "will find the perfect voice."
Before either of them could object, Wade jumped, grabbed a ceiling vent, and vanished into it with surprising speed.
Peter blinked at the empty space. "Is it bad that I'm not even surprised anymore?"
Ned shrugged, typing. "At least he didn't set the floor on fire this time."
"Yet," Peter muttered.
They were just getting into rhythm soldering, typing, arguing about whisker servos when the lab doors phased open with a soft hum.
"Excuse me," came a calm, smooth voice.
Both teens froze mid-task and turned simultaneously, blinking like startled meerkats.
Vision floated just above the threshold, hands clasped behind his back, expression mild. "I was wondering if you were available for a conversation."
Peter and Ned exchanged quick glances, then nodded in perfect sync.
That earned them a small smile. "Excellent. Me, Friday, and Karen have been working on a private initiative. A new infrastructure system. We'd like your input."
Ned leaned forward eagerly. "Like, Stark-level secret?"
Vision tilted his head. "Higher."
Peter's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, now I'm intrigued."
"The project," Vision continued, lowering his voice slightly, "involves merging Pym Particles with Stark nanoparticle technology to create self-adjusting quantum servers. Systems that can exist in multiple scales simultaneously."
Peter's mouth fell open. "You mean servers that can expand or compress space itself to store more data?"
"Precisely," Vision said.
Ned's eyes gleamed. "And you want us to help?"
"I wouldn't trust anyone else," Vision said simply.
Peter and Ned shared a grin that could only mean trouble.
"Okay, yeah," Peter said. "We're in."
Vision's smile warmed just a fraction. "Then let's begin."
Upstairs – The Penthouse Kitchen
Stephen and Tony stood side by side at the sink, sleeves rolled, finishing up breakfast cleanup like it was some kind of unspoken truce.
"So, Gandalf," Tony said, handing him a dish towel, "what's on your schedule today? Please tell me it's not summoning another ceiling gremlin."
Stephen arched a brow but didn't look up from the pan he was rinsing. "I have a series of meetings Kamar-Taj at nine, São Paulo sanctum at noon, consultations with Wong and the Brazilian chapter until three."
Tony leaned against the counter. "Busy, busy wizard."
"I'll be back by four-thirty," Stephen continued smoothly. "Dinner, a Loki check, and if you're still standing a strategy talk."
Tony nodded, pretending to focus on drying dishes. "Sounds like a plan."
Stephen's hands stilled for a moment, heart thudding harder than he'd admit.
It shouldn't have felt so… natural. Cleaning dishes, planning dinners, talking like they were two halves of a normal household.
"Hey," Tony said, catching the brief silence, "you okay?"
Stephen's composure slipped for a heartbeat just enough for his voice to catch. "Fine. Just… thinking."
Tony's tone softened. "Yeah. Happens to the best of us."
The Sorcerer smiled faintly, hiding the storm behind it. "Then I'll see you at dinner."
Tony smirked. "You better. You're the only one in this tower who can cook without setting something on fire."
Stephen gave him a long-suffering look. "And yet, somehow, I'm still staying."
"Yeah," Tony said quietly, with that tired grin that never reached his eyes. "You are."
They stood there for another moment the genius and the sorcerer both pretending they weren't already thinking about wars waiting just beyond the horizon.
Part 2:
Stark Industries – Sublevel R&D Labs
Three hours later, the chaos had evolved.
Where there had once been a clean, orderly lab, there now existed a battlefield of open circuit boards, scattered wires, and at least six versions of what might someday become a robot cat.
Peter was hunched over a holographic display, cycling through designs that looked like rejected Transformers prototypes each one sleeker, more impractically aerodynamic than the last.
Ned sat across from him, typing furiously, screens full of AI code branching like neural vines.
Vision hovered between them, serene as ever, offering observations that were somehow both helpful and terrifyingly literal.
"Sir Whiskers of Starkonia version 4.2," Friday announced helpfully. "Current projected functionality: ninety-one percent mobility, sixty-eight percent coordination, zero percent discretion."
Peter frowned. "What do you mean, zero percent discretion?"
"Peter," Friday replied, "the cat currently sings Taylor Swift songs at full volume whenever it recharges."
Peter turned to Ned. "Okay, first of all, not my fault. That's his code."
Ned threw his hands up. "Hey! Emotional intelligence subroutine! It's supposed to relax it!"
"By serenading the lab?"
Before the debate could escalate into full-blown chaos, Vision drifted closer to Ned's workstation, watching lines of code scroll across the screen.
"You are attempting to replicate Mr. Stark's AI framework," Vision said softly. "How are you finding the process?"
Ned looked up, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Hard. But kinda amazing. His architecture isn't like normal AI — it's like… personality encoded in logic."
Vision smiled faintly. "Yes. Tony's AIs are a reflection of himself. Structure built around chaos. Function wrapped in empathy."
Peter leaned back, grinning. "That sounds about right."
Vision turned his head slightly, gaze thoughtful. "I find myself wondering… do you think I could be described the same way?"
Ned blinked. "You mean… like an emotional mirror of your creator?"
"Exactly," Vision said. "Though lately I have been learning new expressions of emotion. New… terminology."
Something in his tone made both boys pause.
"What kind of terminology?" Peter asked carefully.
Vision tilted his head. "For example, I encountered the term 'zaddy' yesterday. It appears to be a form of admiration directed at… distinguished men?"
Peter immediately inhaled his water wrong and started coughing violently. Ned froze mid-keystroke.
"W-where did you hear that?" Ned managed.
"From the Wakandan princess I was speaking with," Vision said simply. "Shuri. She was referring to me as a synth-zaddy."
Peter made a strangled noise halfway between a laugh and a panic attack. "Shuri-Princess Shuri called you a zaddy?"
"She said, and I quote," Vision continued matter-of-factly, "'You didn't come here just to flatter me, synth-zaddy.'"
Ned wheezed. "She didn't."
"She did," Vision said, still confused. "And then she sent me a meme of a confused baby with the caption 'I am confusion.'"
Peter's face hit the table. "Oh my god, she's perfect."
"Indeed," Vision said serenely. "She is most… refreshing. She also requested a direct holographic link to review your project, which I sent."
"Wait, what? Now?" Peter sat bolt upright.
Before either of them could protest, the nearest display flickered and the grinning face of Princess Shuri of Wakanda appeared, elbows propped on her desk, chin in her hands.
"Hello, genius white boys," she said brightly. "Vision tells me you're building a robot cat. Bold choice. I approve."
Peter froze, words failing him completely. "Uh—I—Your—Highness—ma'am—Princess—your—"
Ned smacked his arm. "Breathe, dude!"
Shuri just laughed. "Relax, I'm not going to knight you. Yet." Her eyes gleamed with mischief. "So, show me this Sir Whiskers."
Ned spun his monitor. "We're still prototyping! But I'm building an AI patterned on Mr. Stark's frameworks. Personality, adaptability, humor."
"And I'm working on the design," Peter added quickly, pulling up the holographic model. "Fully articulated, flexible chassis, micro-servos in the tail"
"and fireproof," Ned interjected pointedly.
Shuri leaned closer to the hologram, clearly impressed. "Okay, I'm stealing this idea. And your code."
Peter blinked. "You—you can't steal—wait, actually, can you? Because that would be amazing."
Shuri grinned. "You two are adorable. I like you."
"Thanks?" Ned said weakly.
"You're funny and smart," she continued. "I need more of that in my lab. Maybe I should come visit."
Peter nearly fell out of his chair. "Visit?"
"I'm going to hitch a ride to New York with Doctor Banner today anyway," she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I'll stay at the Tower. We'll finish the cat together."
Ned stared at the screen in horror. "Oh no. Mr. Stark's going to freak out."
Vision, utterly serene, folded his hands. "He will adapt."
Shuri smirked. "Tell your boss to clear a guest suite. The princess is coming."
The screen went dark.
For a long moment, neither boy spoke.
Then Peter whispered, "We just got adopted by a Wakandan princess."
Ned buried his face in his hands. "We're so dead."
While Ned and Peter were spiraling downstairs, Friday's voice broke through Tony's personal lab speakers calm, but with a hint of dry amusement.
"Boss," she said over the Tower-wide channel, "the children are collecting strays again."
Tony's reply was instant, tired, and full of dread. "Please tell me it's not another assassin."
"Worse," Friday said cheerfully. "A princess. From Wakanda."
There was a pause.
Then: "…Of course it is."