Chapter Text
Chapter 91
The ominous tension left in the air from the Mandarin’s manifesto dissipates almost instantly as Goten notices Gohan’s arrival. His wide eyes light up with excitement, and he lets out a joyful cry.
“Gohan!”
Without hesitation, Goten darts forward, throwing himself into his older brother’s arms. Gohan barely has time to let his duffel bag drop to the floor before catching his little brother, lifting him effortlessly into the air as they embrace.
“Goten!” Gohan warmly laughs, spinning him around once before setting him back down. “You all had me worried for a second there.”
Although Tony is still preoccupied with the looming threat of the Mandarin, he sets his concerns aside for now and steps forward to greet Gohan.
“Sorry for the delayed welcome, Squirt,” Tony says with his signature smirk, pulling Gohan into a side hug. “We were all busy watching some tryhard’s manifesto right before you portaled in.”
Gohan returns the hug, raising an eyebrow. “Anything we should be worried about?”
Tony claps him on the shoulder before stepping back. “Nothing worth losing sleep over just yet. I’ll talk to Rhodey and Steve when they get here—see what the army and SHIELD have to say about it.”
Gohan nods, his expression thoughtful. “Alright, I’ll tag along.”
“You got it, Kid,” Tony replies, his tone easing into a more casual warmth. “But until then, how about you settle in and catch us up on how campus life is treating you? I bet you’ve got some stories.”
Before Gohan can respond, Goten chimes in, his energy boundless. “Yeah! And after, I can show you how much better I’ve gotten with the Power Pole!”
“And spar with me!” Trunks adds, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Count me in on that,” Videl says, grinning. “Gotta make sure you’re not getting rusty on us, Bookworm.”
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Piccolo remarks, his arms crossed but his tone light, almost teasing.
Gohan chuckles, feeling the warmth of his family and friends’ excitement wash over him. “Alright, alright, I’ll bite. Power Pole practice, sparring matches, and catching up. Sounds like a good way to spend the morning.”
“Perfect!” Goten cheers, grabbing Gohan’s hand and tugging him toward the family room.
As the group starts to shift back into a lighter mood, Tony lingers by the TV for a moment, glancing at the now-static screen where the Mandarin’s manifesto had just played. He folds his arms, his smirk fading slightly.
“You’ve got some nerve, pal,” Tony mutters under his breath. Then, shaking off the thought for the time being, he turns to follow the others, calling out as he does. “Hey, don’t start without me! I wanna see Monkey and Bowl-cut's performances.”
“Stop calling me that!” Trunks yells, glaring over his shoulder. “It’s called style, Old Man Goatee!”
“Hey, this goatee’s iconic!” Tony shoots back, his grin wide as he catches up with the group.
The tension in the room is officially gone as laughter and banter echo through the house. Even Piccolo’s stoic demeanor softens as he quietly joins the others, inwardly grateful for this brief moment of peace and family bonding.
Still, in the back of his mind—and in Tony’s as well—the Mandarin’s cryptic warning lingers. But regardless of whatever storm this new potential enemy might be brewing, they’ll face it together.
After a few hours of catching up and engaging in various sparring matches, Rhodey and Steve arrive, only to be swiftly roped into discussing the situation over a day out—Tony's idea, of course.
However, despite initiating the plan, Tony chooses to fly in his suit rather than squeeze into a car with the others. (Piccolo, naturally, opts out entirely, preferring to steer clear of public outings.)
The dive bar buzzes with low chatter, the ambient noise punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses and the hum of the television mounted in the corner.
Tony and Rhodey sat at their table nursing their drinks, Steve, Gohan, Videl, Goten, and Trunks sitting along with them, each nursing a soda or juice.
On the television, Joan Rivers’ sharp wit slices through the bar’s ambient noise as she comments on Rhodey’s new suit, now freshly painted in the colors of the American flag.
“Same suit, but painted red, white, and blue,” she says with a smirk. “And they renamed him Iron Patriot! You know, just in case the paint was too subtle.”
Tony nearly chokes on his drink, laughing as he turns to Rhodey. “You hear that, Rhodey? Iron Patriot is a fashion icon now.”
Rhodey groans, rubbing his temples. “It tested well with focus groups, alright?”
“Focus groups?” Tony quips, raising an eyebrow. He straightens his posture, adopting an overly serious tone. “I am Iron Patriot. Hero of democracy. Defender of freedom.” He dramatically salutes, earning some giggles from the boys.
“Enough, Tony,” Rhodey grumbles. “War Machine was a little too aggressive. This sends a better message.”
“‘Better message,’” Tony mockingly repeats, rolling his eyes. “Sure it does. And how about the Mandarin? Can we talk about this guy now? What’s really going on?”
The humor in Tony’s voice dims slightly, and Rhodey gives him a wary glance. “It’s classified, Tony,” he says, lowering his voice. “Alright? There have been nine bombings.”
Steve, who had been quietly sipping his drink, set the glass down with a thud. “Nine?”
Rhodey nods, his expression grim. “The public only knows about three. The thing is, nobody can ID the devices. There’s no bomb casing, no traces of a traditional explosive. It's like...it’s something new.”
Gohan, seated to Tony’s right, leans forward, frowning, his analytical mind hard at work attempting to solve this puzzle. “No residue at all? No fragments? Not even chemical traces? That doesn’t make sense.”
Rhodey shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s clean. Too clean. And we’re at a standstill.”
Tony exhales slowly, his tone suddenly serious. “You know I can help, right? Just ask. I’ve got a ton of new tech—bomb disposal tools, prehensile tech, even systems that can catch explosions mid-air.”
Rhodey sharply glances at him. “When’s the last time you even got a good night’s sleep, Tony?”
“Sleep?” Tony scoffs, waving the comment away. “Einstein slept three hours a year. Look what he did.”
“That’s not the point,” Rhodey says, his tone softer but tinged with concern. “People are worried about you. I’m worried about you.”
“Not to pile on,” Steve interjects, his voice calm yet firm, “but Rhodey’s got a point, Tony. You’ve been running yourself into the ground ever since New York.”
“You're both really gonna come at me like that?" Tony says, referring to Rhodey and Steve, but he's only giving the former the stinkeye.
Rhodey shakes his head. "No. No, look, I'm not trying to be a dic-" But before Rhodey can finish, a young girl and little boy approach the table. "-tator."
The girl clutching a folded piece of paper clears her throat and nervously asks, “Um...Mr. Stark? Can you sign this?”
Tony tilts his head, a faint smile spreading across his face. “If Richard over here doesn’t mind.” He gestures toward Rhodey. "What do you say, Dick? Do you mind, Dick?"
Though Steve and Gohan level Tony with unimpressed stares, his joke does get a laugh out of Videl.
Rhodey rolls his eyes. “Fine with me.”
The girl hands Tony the paper—a drawing of Iron Man in flight during the Battle of New York, carrying the nuke on his back, heading toward the portal. “What’s your name?” he gently asks.
“Erin,” she shyly replies.
Tony glances at the boy standing beside her and smirks. “Loved you in A Christmas Story, by the way.”
The boy blinks in confusion while Goten and Trunks giggle behind their sodas and Gohan holds back a laugh.
As Tony began to sign the drawing, he half-heartedly listens to Rhodey, who's trying to explain the political pressures surrounding the Mandarin investigation.
Rhodey sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we get back on topic? Listen, the Pentagon is scared. After what happened in New York...gods, aliens, come on. They need to look strong. Stopping the Mandarin is priority, but it's not-”
Tony raises his hand, cutting in. “It’s not superhero business, I get it." His tone biting, frustration bubbling to the surface.
"No, it's not," Rhodey confirms. "Quite frankly, it's American business."
Tony leans back, nodding. “That’s why I said...I got it.”
“This isn’t just about stopping the Mandarin,” Rhodey says. “It’s about optics. They need to look like they have everything under control—”
“And repainting your suit helps with that?” Videl cuts in, skeptical.
Rhodey shrugs. “It’s what the Pentagon thinks works.”
As Tony adds the finishing touches to his signature, his hand falters. For a brief moment, his face twists in discomfort. “I broke the crayon,” he mutters, his voice distant.
Erin’s smile vanishes. “Are you okay, Mr. Stark?”
Noticing his friend's distress, Rhodey leans closer. “Take it easy. Tony...”
But before anyone can react further, the boy beside Erin leans in and whispers into Tony's ear, “How did you get out of the wormhole?”
Tony freezes, his eyes widening. His breath hitches as his mind reels, flashes of New York and the Chitauri invasion overwhelming him. Abruptly, he stands up, nearly knocking over his chair.
“Tony?” Steve calls, rising to his feet.
"Dad?" Gohan calls as well, fearing he knows whats happening.
“I—I need air,” Tony stammers, pushing his way toward the door. Rhodey quickly follows after him, with Steve, Gohan, Videl, and the boys not far behind.
Outside, Tony stumbles toward his parked Iron Man suit, his chest heaving. “What did he say?” he asks no one in particular, his voice trembling.
“Tony, stop!” Rhodey shouts. “What’s going on?”
“I need to check the suit,” Tony mutters, almost incoherent. “Make sure—”
Climbing inside the suit, Tony drops to his knees, his head in his hands. “Check the heart… check the—is it the brain?”
JARVIS’s calm voice fills the helmet. “No sign of cardiac anomaly or unusual brain activity.”
Tony’s voice cracks. “So I was poisoned?”
“My diagnosis,” JARVIS replies, “is that you’ve experienced a severe anxiety attack.”
The diagnosis leaves Tony reeling. “Me?” he whispers, disbelief lacing his voice. He’s helped Gohan navigate his anxiety attacks over the years, but he never imagined this was what they felt like—or that he’d experience one himself.
Rhodey knocks on the suit’s helmet, concern etched across his face. “Tony, open up. Come on, man. This isn’t a good look.”
"Daddy?" Goten worriedly calls, nervously clutching Rhodey’s leg. "What's wrong?"
Inside the suit, Tony shakes is head. “Sorry, I gotta split.” He quickly glances at Steve and Rhodey, and asks, "Make sure the kids get home, please?"
Before anyone can stop him, the suit powers up, and Tony launches into the sky, leaving his friends, boyfriend, sons—and his spiraling panic—far behind.
Rhodey, Steve, Gohan, Videl, Goten, and Trunks can only stand there, helplessly watching as he disappears into the clouds, concern etched deeply into their faces.
"What just happened?" Trunks finally asks, his voice breaking the stunned silence.
"I'm pretty sure it was a panic attack," Gohan answers, years of experience having them himself leaves little room for doubt in his mind.
Rhodey frowns, his eyes still fixed on the sky where Tony had vanished. "I’ve never seen Tony have a panic attack before." He turns to Steve and Gohan. "Have either of you?"
Gohan shakes his head. "No."
"Neither have I," Steve replies, his voice quieter than usual. "I mean, we’ve been there for each other after really bad nightmares a few times, but I’ve never seen him this terrified before." He pauses, his brow furrowing as a painful memory resurfaces. "Well, except when Loki kidnapped Goten. But that was different—panic mixed with anger, grief, and determination. This…this was just fear. Pure fear."
"What do you think triggered it?" Videl asks, glancing between the others.
Gohan frowns as he thinks. "That boy whispered something to him," he recalls. "Whatever he said must have caused it."
Before anyone can respond, Trunks bolts back into the building without a word. A minute later, he returns, his expression grim. "He said he asked Tony how he got out of the wormhole."
The weight of those words crash over them like a tidal wave. Steve, Gohan, and Goten all visibly flinch, memories of that harrowing day flashing before their eyes—the moment they’d nearly lost Tony for good because of that portal.
"That explains it," Gohan quietly comments, his voice heavy.
He suddenly feels a small tug on his hand. Looking down, he finds Goten staring up at him, his wide eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Is Daddy gonna be okay?" Goten asks, his lips trembling.
Gohan’s heart clenches. He wants to tell his little brother everything will be fine, but the truth is, he isn’t sure. Tony’s always been one of the strongest people he’s ever known. No matter what crisis came their way, no matter the danger or uncertainty, Tony faced it all with unshakable determination. But now, for the first time, Tony’s strength had faltered, and it scared Gohan in a way few things ever had.
Pushing aside his own doubts, Gohan crouches down to Goten’s eye level and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don’t worry, Buddy. Dad’s gonna be fine," he says, his voice steady despite the uncertainty gnawing at him. "We’ll make sure of it."
Goten stares at him for a moment, his fear slowly giving way to a spark of determination. He nods firmly. "Right."
Gohan smiles softly, ruffling Goten’s hair.
In the 5 years since he took them in, their dad has always been their rock through everything. Now, it was their turn. Whatever it took, they would be there for him—just like he’s always been there for them.
-SI Malibu HQ-
The bustling lobby of Stark Industries was alive with the chatter of employees shuffling about their day, but Happy had only one mission in mind: enforcement. Striding purposefully, he points emphatically at his badge as he passes by staff.
“Badge. Badge. Come on, badge,” he barks, his voice cutting through the noise. “I put a memo in the toilet. Come on, people!” His exasperation is palpable as he waves off anyone who dares look at him without the appropriate credentials displayed.
It isn’t long before he reaches Pepper’s office. Happy wastes no time in venting his frustrations. “Tony’s got those robots of his in the basement. They’re wearing party hats, for crying out loud. This is an asset we could put to good use!”
Pepper, seated at her desk, barely looks up from her work as she responds with the precision of someone who has long since mastered the art of dealing with Tony’s antics and Happy’s...enthusiasm. “Uh-huh. So what you’re saying is that I should replace the entire janitorial staff with robots?”
Happy excitedly nods, as if he's just proposed a groundbreaking solution. “Exactly. The human element of Human Resources? Biggest vulnerability we’ve got. We should start phasing it out immediately.”
Pepper’s eyebrows shoot up. “What!?”
Happy, unfazed, marches past an employee and mutters a curt, “Excuse me, Bambi,” before returning his attention to Pepper.
Pepper’s jaw slightly drops. “Did you just say that?”
“Security,” Happy flatly replies, pointing again to his badge like it's his ultimate defense.
“Happy?” Pepper interjects, folding her arms, her tone a mix of affection and exasperation.
“Yes?”
“I love that you’re taking your new position as Head of Security so seriously. It’s the perfect role for you,” she starts, softening for just a moment.
Happy grins, puffing up slightly. “Thank you.”
“But—”
“I do appreciate it,” he interrupts, beaming.
Pepper presses on, undeterred. “Since you’ve taken the post—”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Happy cuts in again.
She sighs. “We’ve had a rise in staff complaints of three hundred percent.”
“Thank you.” He confidently replies.
“That’s not a compliment.” Pepper deadpans.
Happy blinks, his confidence faltering for a moment. “That’s not a compli...? It is a compliment! Clearly, somebody’s trying to hide something.”
Pepper pinches the bridge of her nose, debating whether to argue further when her assistant enters the room, clipboard in hand. “Miss Potts, your four o’clock is here,”
Pepper nods. “Thank you.”
Happy, ever vigilant, leans in. “Did you clear this four o’clock with me?”
Pepper shoots him a look. “Happy, we’ll talk about this later. Right now, I have to go deal with this very annoying thing.”
“What's so annoying about it?”
Pepper sighs, already rising from her chair. “I used to work with him. He used to ask me out all the time. It’s...a little awkward.”
Happy’s jaw tightens, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. “I don’t like the sound of that,” he mutters, falling in step beside her.
As the glass doors open, Pepper’s breath catches at the sight before her, Aldrich Killian, handsome, polished, and confident, sporting a tailored suit. He was almost unrecognizable from the awkward, disheveled man she remembered from years ago.
“Pepper,” Aldrich warmly greets her, his smile lighting up the room.
“Killian?” she manages to reply, her surprise evident.
“You look great. You look really great,” Aldrich remarks, his tone smooth and assured.
Pepper stammers, still taken aback by his transformation. “God, you look...You look great. I...I can’t...What on earth have you been doing?”
“Nothing fancy,” Aldrich replies with a slight shrug. “Just five years in the hands of physical therapists. And please, call me Aldrich.”
Happy, already bristling, steps forward, his voice stern. “Uh...you were supposed to be issued a security badge.”
Pepper raises a hand to stop him. “Happy, it’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Stand down.”
Happy reluctantly steps back, but hovers near the door. “Okay. I’m gonna linger. Right here.”
“Thank you,” Pepper says, shooting Happy an affectionate smile before ushering Aldrich into her office.
As the glass doors close behind them, Aldrich turns his attention back to Pepper, his voice warm and confident. “It’s very nice to see you again, Pepper.”
“Likewise,” she cautiously replies.
Happy steps outside but remains watchful. His gaze falls on a man seated in the waiting area—one of Aldrich’s associates.
Suspicious, Happy points to his own badge. The man, seemingly unbothered, casually picks up his badge from the table beside him and holds it up for inspection.
“Merry Christmas,” the man says with a sly grin.
Happy's eyes narrow, his instincts on high alert.
Inside the office, Aldrich wasted no time getting to the heart of his presentation. “After years of dodging the President’s ban on ‘immoral biotech research,’ my think tank has something new in the pipeline. It’s an idea we like to call Extremis.”
As he speaks, he dims the lights and reveals three small metallic spheres in his hand. “Regard the human brain.”
He tosses the spheres onto the coffee table. Once they roll to a stop, they project a vivid 3D image into the room.
“Wait. Hold on, hold on,” Aldrich says, adjusting the projection. “That’s...that’s the universe. My bad.”
Pepper chuckles, watching as he corrects the image to display the intricate neural network of the human brain.
“There,” Aldrich proudly gestures. “That’s the brain. Strangely mimetic, wouldn’t you say?”
Pepper leans closer, visibly impressed. “Wow, that’s amazing!”
“Thanks,” Aldrich replies. “It’s mine.”
Pepper blinks. “What?”
“This.” He taps behind his ear, referring to an embedded device. “You’re inside my head. It’s a live feed. Come on up—I’ll prove it to you.”
Aldrich steps onto the coffee table and extends a hand to help Pepper up. Hesitant but curious, she joins him, standing amidst the holographic projection.
“Now, pinch my arm." Aldrich instructs. "I can take it."
Pepper pinches his arm, and immediately a section of the holographic brain lit up.
“What is that?” she asks, intrigued.
“The primary somatosensory cortex. It’s the brain’s pain center,” Aldrich explains. “But this...this is what I wanted to show you.”
He turns her around and manipulates the hologram, shifting the image with a swipe of his hand. “Extremis harnesses our bioelectrical potential and directs it...here.”
The projection zooms in on an empty neural slot.
“This,” Aldrich continues, “is essentially an empty slot. What it tells us is that our mind–our entire DNA, in fact—is destined to be upgraded.”
Pepper stares at the glowing projection, awe flickering across her face. “Wow.”
Outside, Happy is still watching Aldrich’s associate with suspicion. He glances back toward the office, his protective instincts sharper than ever. No way is he letting his guard down—not when that guy was in there with Pepper.