Chapter 6: The Confession That Isn't
The meeting room felt too clean, too corporate, after weeks on the streets. Ben sat in a chair too big for him, facing Pepper Potts across a polished table, a cup of hot chocolate cooling between them. She was waiting for an explanation, her expression professional but not unkind.
He took a breath and tried to tell the truth—which immediately became a disaster.
"Tony Stark is going to announce he's Iron Man, and then there's this guy who—"
What came out was: "Banana Man will tell everyone he's Shiny Robot, then the bald mean friend will—"
Ben stopped, frustrated tears forming. "Why can't I just tell her? Why does the universe hate me?"
Pepper's concern deepened. The child's distress was genuine, but the words made no sense. Some kind of developmental disorder? Trauma-induced speech problems? She'd seen the security footage—this boy moved like a trained operative, but spoke like someone with severe cognitive issues.
Ben tried a different angle, desperate. "Bad things are coming. I can help. I have special abilities—"
This, at least, came out clearly. Pepper's eyebrows rose. "Special abilities?"
To prove it, Ben asked her to throw the pen on the table at him. Skeptical but intrigued, she tossed it gently in his direction. His Enhanced Reflexes snatched it from the air with inhuman precision—faster than her eyes could track, more controlled than any child should manage.
Then he pointed at a waste bin fifteen feet away. "Watch."
Hawkeye's Aim guided the pen in a perfect arc, dropping it cleanly into the container with a soft thunk. Pepper's skepticism cracked like ice under pressure.
"That's not possible. Ten-year-olds don't move like that."
Her coffee grew cold as she studied the boy across from her. Enhanced children weren't unheard of—there were rumors of government programs, genetic anomalies, things SHIELD whispered about in briefings she wasn't supposed to hear. But this felt different. More purposeful.
"How long have you been able to do things like that?"
"Since I woke up," Ben said, then caught himself. "Since I woke up in this body" was what he'd almost said. "Since a few weeks ago. When the bad dreams started."
Pepper made a note on her tablet. The child's timeline matched his appearance at the soup kitchen, the escape from the group home. Something had changed for him recently—trauma, enhancement, or something else entirely.
"Ben, I need you to help me understand something. You broke into this building specifically to warn Tony about palladium toxicity. That's very specialized knowledge for a child. Where did you learn about it?"
Ben's mouth opened to explain—dreams that weren't dreams, memories of movies, knowledge of a future that hadn't happened yet—but the words twisted in his throat like barbed wire.
"I see things. Bad things that are going to happen. And I can't—I can't say them right, but I can draw them sometimes."
He requested paper and markers, and Pepper slid a legal pad across the table. Ben began sketching with the focused intensity of someone transcribing sacred texts. His child hands moved with surprising precision, creating crude but recognizable images.
The first drawing was Tony in the Mark I armor, arc reactor glowing in his chest. The second showed the same figure, but cleaner, more heroic, standing protectively over smaller figures. The third made Pepper's stomach tighten—a bald man standing menacingly, arms crossed, something predatory in his posture.
"Is this Tony?" she asked, pointing to the armored figure.
Ben nodded frantically, then drew Tony emerging victorious, alive, triumphant. Relief washed over Pepper's face, but questions multiplied like bacteria.
"And this man?" She indicated the bald figure.
Ben's crayon pressed harder, gouging the paper. He couldn't write explanatory text—it came out as nonsense—but the image conveyed threat, betrayal, danger close to home.
"Obadiah. I can't say his name, but I can show her. Maybe that's enough."
While Ben continued drawing—crude sketches of arc reactors, armored suits, scenes that felt like prophecy or delusion—Pepper stepped outside to make calls. Her assistant's voice was crisp and efficient through her phone.
"I need everything we have on a Ben Parker, approximately ten years old, homeless, possibly enhanced. Priority one."
Through the conference room's door, Ben's Enhanced Hearing caught fragments of conversation:
"—no family, no records of enhancement programs—"
"—Bishop Security flagged him weeks ago—"
"—abilities definitely beyond normal parameters—"
The Bishop Security file arrived via encrypted email—forwarded by Eleanor Bishop after Pepper's inquiry about "enhanced children in NYC." The photographs showed Ben in action: impossible jumps, perfect aim, movements that defied his age and apparent background.
Pepper studied the images with growing unease. This wasn't a child playing around. Every movement was controlled, purposeful, impossibly precise. Someone had either enhanced this boy or trained him to superhuman levels.
But the drawings suggested something else entirely. Prophetic knowledge. Warnings about Tony's safety that she couldn't ignore.
When she returned to the conference room, she found Ben eating the sandwich she'd ordered—his first real meal in weeks, judging by how he devoured it. His drawings now covered three pages: detailed sketches of arc reactor technology, armored figures in combat, and recurring images of the bald man in threatening poses.
The arc reactor diagrams were remarkably sophisticated for a child's work. The technical details suggested either genius-level intelligence or access to classified information. Given his age and background, neither seemed possible.
"Unless he's telling the truth about seeing the future."
Pepper sat across from him again, her decision crystallizing. This child was either mentally ill with random superpowers, or he genuinely knew something about Tony's safety. Either way, she wasn't sending him back to the streets.
"Ben, how would you like to stay somewhere safe while we figure this out? Just until Tony gets back tomorrow."
The offer hit Ben like a physical blow. After weeks of cold, hunger, and fear, someone was offering him safety. Not just anyone—Pepper Potts, the woman who'd become Tony's wife, who'd run Stark Industries, who'd help save the world a dozen times over.
"You mean it?" His voice was very small.
"I mean it. You clearly care about Tony's safety, and that matters to me. Whatever else is going on, you're not a threat. You're just a child who needs help."
"And possibly the key to preventing something terrible from happening to Tony."
[QUEST PROGRESSION: GAIN PEPPER POTTS' TRUST - 70% COMPLETE]
[ENHANCED HEARING GAINS 80 EXP - LEVEL 8 ACHIEVED]
[RELATIONSHIP ESTABLISHED: PEPPER POTTS (PROTECTIVE)]
That evening, Ben found himself in a Stark Industries guest room—actual sheets, actual warmth, actual safety for the first time since awakening in this world. The bed was softer than anything he'd experienced, the room temperature controlled to perfect comfort.
His System displayed new notifications:
[SAFE HAVEN LOCATED - ALL ABILITIES GAIN +100 EXP BONUS]
[ALLY GAINED: PEPPER POTTS (PROVISIONAL)]
[WARNING: TIMELINE ACCELERATION DETECTED]
[MAJOR EVENTS APPROACHING]
But Ben lay awake despite exhaustion, staring at the ceiling as his mind raced. Tomorrow Tony would return, and the MCU timeline would truly begin. The press conference. "I am Iron Man." The moment that changed everything.
He pulled up his System interface, the blue glow filling the dark room. Five new Standard Tickets waited, along with the three Premiums he'd earned from gaining Pepper's trust. Power at his fingertips, but at what cost?
The speech restriction still locked away his most crucial knowledge. He could act, but not warn. Could influence, but not prevent. The System seemed designed to make him a guardian rather than a prophet—someone who shaped events rather than stopping them.
"Tomorrow, I meet Iron Man."
The thought sent excitement and terror through him in equal measure. Tony Stark—the man who would become his father, his mentor, his family. But also the man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, who would face impossible odds again and again.
Ben's Enhanced Hearing picked up the soft hum of the building's systems, the distant sound of late-night security patrols, the whisper of air through ventilation shafts. Everything was quiet, peaceful, safe.
But peace was temporary in the Marvel universe. Tomorrow would bring the birth of Iron Man, and with it, the beginning of an age of heroes and villains that would reshape the world.
The notifications pulsed softly in his peripheral vision as sleep finally took him, dreams mixing with determination. He'd made it this far—from homeless orphan to protected guest of Stark Industries in less than a month.
Now came the hard part: helping shape the future without destroying it.
In her office forty floors below, Pepper Potts worked late into the night, preparing for Tony's return while her mind churned over the strange child now sleeping in their guest quarters. Tomorrow would bring answers—or more questions.
Either way, her life had just become infinitely more complicated.
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