[Parker Residence – Peter's Room]
Forest Hills, Queens
June 3, (2015)
Wednesday, 10:02 p.m.
Peter shut the door and let out a long breath, peeling off his hoodie and tossing it onto his desk chair. He didn't even bother turning the lights on—just the glow of his computer monitors and LED strips lit the room in soft blues and purples.
He sat on his bed, reached into the hoodie pocket…
…and pulled out the Chitauri repulsor glove.
It was heavier than it looked. Humming faintly. Still alive in a weird alien-tech kind of way. Peter ran his fingers along the ridged metal casing, eyes wide, mind already racing.
"You're not from around here," he muttered to the glove with a half-smile.
He placed it gently on the desk, right next to his half-built drone and sketchpad. Then he grabbed his phone, pulled up his notes app, and started scribbling down theories:
> — Repulsor energy core?
— Alien-stark hybrid design?
— How did Max even get access to this…?
— What if it can be reverse-engineered into something new?
He was already grabbing a screwdriver, popping open the bottom casing with surgical care.
But even as he worked—brain on fire, fingers nimble—he couldn't stop smiling.
Not just because of the tech.
But because she trusted him with it.
Riley.
Peter paused for a second, leaning back in his chair, eyes drifting toward the glove.
"She gave me this…" he whispered.
And that meant something. Way more than just metal and wires.
It meant she saw him—really saw him.
Peter turned back to the glove, cracked his knuckles, and whispered:
"Let's see what you're hiding."
---
[Green Residence – Riley's Room]
Williamsburg, Brooklyn
June 3, (2015)
Wednesday, 10:06 p.m.
Riley lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. The faint city hum filtered through her cracked window, mixing with the occasional honk, a distant train… and her thoughts.
Her backpack rested by the desk. Empty now. No repulsor glove.
She let him take it.
Her fingers gently touched the spot on her hand where the repulsor had rested earlier—like a phantom memory.
She turned her head toward her phone on the nightstand. No messages. No notifications.
She wasn't expecting any.
But her heart still fluttered, stupidly hopeful.
She thought of Peter's face when she handed it to him. That soft gasp, the excitement lighting up his whole expression like a kid at Stark Expo. It wasn't just that he liked the tech. It was how he looked at it—like it was art.
No.
Like it was purpose.
And she loved that.
She loved him.
Not the superhero. Not yet.
Just… the boy.
The awkward genius with that messy hair and quiet passion.
Riley hugged her pillow tighter.
"God, you're in deep," she whispered to herself, laughing under her breath.
Downstairs, her parents were still cleaning up. Evelyn was probably passed out in her bed, still in her socks, half-hugging that weird owl plushie.
And Riley?
She turned to her side, eyes still open, lips curled in a small smile.
"Be careful with it, Pete…"
And she didn't mean the glove.
She meant everything.
---
[Parker Residence – Peter's Room]
Forest Hills, Queens
June 3, (2015)
Wednesday, 11:48 p.m.
The lamp buzzed quietly above Peter's cluttered desk. Nuts, wires, scrap alloys, and two very different repulsor gloves lay in pieces—one Chitauri in origin, the other a Frankenstein mess of toaster coils and garage-sale copper.
His hands moved fast, guided by instinct and obsession.
Video clips of Iron Man vs. Ultron played on loop on his laptop. Frame by frame, he studied the angle of Tony's hands, the arcs of the pulses, the charging delay, the recoil. He mimicked them. Adjusted. Soldered. Glued. Modified. Again.
His own prototype glove, the one he made at eleven, was completely gutted now—reworked with Chitauri circuits, enhanced pressure valves, and a raw energy core humming with unstable power.
Click.
He locked the final plate in.
"Phewwwwww…" Peter leaned back in his chair, arms stretched. "It's done."
Then, with a grin: "Gotta SS and send to Riley."
He snapped a pic. The gauntlet gleamed faint blue and purple in the desk light. A glowing arc panel sat in the center of the palm. His fingers trembled with excitement.
Sent.
---
[Green Residence – Riley's Room]
Williamsburg, Brooklyn
June 3, (2015)
Wednesday, 11:51 p.m.
PING.
Riley checked her phone.
Her jaw dropped.
> "Peterrr??? You just made a Mark 45 replica gauntlet with scrap metal and my glove?! What the actual f**? Peter, send me a video. NOW."
---
[Parker Residence – Peter's Room]
Peter grinned, already recording.
He slid the glove on.
Clenched a fist.
Pointed it at his old LEGO Iron Man minifigure on the desk.
The gauntlet glowed—a swirl of unstable purple-blue energy charging at the core.
"Alright, let's test this baby—"
PCHHWA!!!
The blast fired, vaporizing the LEGO… and blowing his entire desk in half.
Papers flew. His lamp sparked out. A photo frame shattered.
Peter stared at the chaos.
"…Oh no. That's not good."
---
[Green Residence – Riley's Room]
Riley watched the video on loop.
Mouth open.
Eyes wide.
Heart racing.
> "PETERRRR. You're ASTONISHINGGGG."
She paused.
Typed: "ily."
Backspaced.
Typed nothing.
---
[Parker Residence – Peter's Room]
> Peter: "Just messing around 😝"
Riley threw her phone on her bed, flopped backward, eyes on the ceiling.
He did that in an hour.
I took months…
Peter… I love you, she thought.
But she didn't say it.
Not yet.
---
[Midtown High – Lockers]
Queens, New York City
June 4, (2015)
Thursday, 8:05 a.m.
Peter stood at his locker beside Ned, yawning mid-sentence. "—and then I kinda blew up half my desk. Legit."
Ned laughed. "Classic. What were you even doing?"
Before Peter could answer, a blur of brunette hair and boots zipped into frame.
"Peter!" Riley's voice cut through the morning noise like lightning. She practically slammed into the locker next to him, eyes wide, lips twitching with a grin she could barely contain.
Peter blinked. "Hey—uh—morning?"
Ned stepped back a little, surprised. "Woah. You good?"
Riley ignored Ned completely, her gaze locked on Peter. "You didn't tell me it lit up like that! I thought it'd spark or hum—but you destroyed your desk, Peter!"
Peter smirked, leaning closer. "Yeah... might've overcharged the capacitor. Worth it."
Ned frowned, confused. "Wait, what glove?"
Riley immediately shifted. "Nothing! Just... school project. Science Club. Very boring."
Peter shot her a tiny, knowing smile.
Riley nudged his arm. "You're bringing it after school, right? I need a closer look."
Peter tapped his hoodie pocket lightly and gave her a wink. "Wouldn't leave home without it."
Riley tried not to blush as she turned toward class, muttering, "You're ridiculous," under her breath—but the smile didn't leave her face.
And Ned? Ned was just confused as hell.
---
[Queens Alley – Behind Midtown High]
Queens, New York City
June 4, (2015)
Thursday, 3:39 p.m.
The alley was narrow, quiet, and smelled faintly of old pizza boxes and summer asphalt. Peter pulled the glove out of his backpack, holding it up like it was a holy artifact.
"Okay," he said, glancing between Riley and Ned. "No sudden movements. This thing will blow your arm off if you're dumb."
Ned raised his hands like he was under arrest. "Got it. Not being dumb."
Riley crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "You're the one who fried your desk."
Peter smirked. "Touché."
He knelt down, powered it on, and the glove hummed to life—soft pulses of violet and blue light flowing along the repulsor core. It looked like something torn out of a Stark prototype… if Stark lived in a scrapyard.
"Who's first?" Peter asked.
"I volunteer as tribute," Ned said instantly, stepping up.
Riley rolled her eyes. "Ned—"
Peter chuckled and helped him slide the glove on. It was heavy and slightly oversized, but the repulsor lights adjusted to Ned's movement.
"Okay, now just aim, gently, at that trash can."
Ned raised his arm with dramatic slowness. "Like this?"
"Yeah, and now double tap the pressure pad in your palm."
Ned did. A soft whine built up—
PCHSSHHHHHT—
A burst of energy blasted from the palm, flinging the trash can across the alley with a CLANG.
"YO!" Ned jumped back. "I just Iron Man'd a trash can!"
Peter grinned. "Stabilizer's working. I tightened the focus ring."
"My turn," Riley said, stepping forward before Ned could even get the glove off.
She slipped it on like it belonged to her—confident, focused. The lights instantly responded, flickering brighter.
Peter blinked. "Huh. It... syncs better with you."
Riley didn't wait. She locked onto a stack of empty crates, narrowed one eye, and—
CHWAM!!
The crates exploded into splinters.
Ned shielded his face. "Okay! She's better than me. Noted."
Peter just stared, kind of amazed. "That was... clean. Riley, that was clean."
Riley beamed, her hair falling into her face as she lowered her arm. "Maybe I am Stark-level."
Peter muttered, mostly to himself, "Better, actually."
And in that moment, with alley dust floating in the sunlight and the smell of ozone in the air, the three of them laughed like maniacs—nerds with a superweapon made of scrap, pretending the world wasn't about to get weirder.
---
[Queens Alley – Behind Midtown High]
Queens, New York City
June 4, (2015)
Thursday, 3:42 p.m.
A low whir split the air—then a smooth clang.
Out of nowhere, Iron Man descended from above like a falling comet, his Mark 45 landing perfectly on the cracked pavement. The golden faceplate peeled back with a mechanical hiss, revealing Tony Stark, eyes scanning, unimpressed.
Peter froze. Riley's arm was still glowing from the repulsor blast.
"Sir," FRIDAY's voice spoke calmly in his HUD, "Chitauri energy signature traced to this device. Scanning local profiles."
Tony's HUD flickered:
Peter Benjamin Parker. Age: 14. Midtown High Student. Science GPA: 4.6.
Riley Green. Daughter of Max Green, former Stark Industries A.S.C.D. Division. Terminated.
Edward Leeds. Civilian. No relevant tech access.
Then a new scan pinged the glove:
> Device: Hybrid Repulsor Gauntlet
Origin: Scrap-built, Stark schematics + Chitauri core + unknown capacitor rig.
Compatibility: 82% match to early Mark 23 base. Heavily modified.
Tony raised an eyebrow and stepped forward slowly. "Where'd you get that?"
Riley lowered her arm cautiously. "It's... sort of a shared project."
Peter gulped. "We built it. Mostly me... but the parts were—uh—Riley's idea."
Ned stepped back, hands up. "I'm just here for moral support."
Tony stared them down. He wasn't angry. Just... processing.
"Chitauri core, unstable capacitor, Stark design," he muttered, looking at the gauntlet. "And you slapped it together in what... a garage?"
Peter shrugged awkwardly. "My bedroom."
Tony looked at him — really looked at him — and for a second, the sarcasm faded.
"You're good," he said quietly. "Really good."
Peter's heart almost stopped.
But then Tony turned to Riley, his expression unreadable. "You Green's kid?"
Riley blinked. "Yeah. You knew him?"
Tony nodded slowly, something tight behind his eyes. "We crossed paths."
He didn't say more. Didn't need to.
Peter stepped slightly in front of Riley, uncertain. "Are we in trouble?"
Tony tilted his head, eyeing the gauntlet one more time.
"Let's just say... don't test that thing near an airport," he said dryly, then looked right at Peter. "And maybe... keep your calendar open this summer."
With that, the mask slid shut.
VRRRMMM—BLAST.
Iron Man shot into the sky, leaving nothing but a gust of wind, stunned teenagers, and a destroyed trash can behind.
Riley blinked. "...Did that just happen?"
Peter, still staring upward, muttered, "I think he liked it."
Ned clutched his chest. "I think I peed a little."
---
[Parker Residence – Hallway & Apartment Unit 5A]
Forest Hills, Queens, NYC
June 4, (2015)
Thursday, 4:17 p.m.
The elevator dinged open on the fifth floor. Peter stepped out first, backpack slung over one shoulder, still wide-eyed from what just happened.
Riley followed, rubbing her wrist where the repulsor glove had left faint red marks. Ned trailed behind, still vibrating with excitement like someone who'd met a celebrity and been hit by a truck all at once.
Peter fumbled with his keys. "Okay, just act normal—"
Before he could finish, the door flew open.
"Peter!"
May Parker, wearing a flour-dusted apron and a warm smile, was already there. "I was just thinking about ordering pizza—who's hungry?"
Then her eyes landed on Riley.
"Oh!" May's smile softened into a beam. "And you must be Riley. I've heard exactly two things: smart and sarcastic. Love that combo."
Riley blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, guilty?"
May stepped forward and immediately pulled her into a hug before Riley could stop it.
"You are adorable," May declared. "Are you Italian? You look like you could be Italian. Or Israeli. Is that rude to ask?"
"Um…" Riley laughed. "Brooklyn."
"Even better." May winked. "Come in, come in."
Ned whispered to Peter, "Dude... she's gonna replace us both."
Peter smirked. "Yeah, I'm already jealous."
—
[Parker Residence – Peter's Bedroom]
Forest Hills, Queens, NYC
June 4, (2015)
Thursday, 4:28 p.m.
All three collapsed onto the bed and chairs in Peter's small room. Posters of Star Wars, Iron Man, and a dusty telescope decorated the corners.
Ned flopped onto the beanbag. "Bro... bro... that was Iron Man."
Peter nodded slowly, like his brain was still buffering.
Riley crossed her arms and said flatly, "We almost got grounded by Iron Man."
Ned flailed. "No, we almost got adopted by Iron Man. Did you see the way he looked at Peter? Like—like—like he found his mini-me in the wild!"
Peter let out a breath. "He said I was good."
Ned squeaked. Literally. "He said you were good!"
Peter gave a lopsided smile, glancing at Riley. "He also knew who your dad was."
Riley's smile faded just a little. "Yeah... that part freaked me out. He didn't even flinch. Just knew."
Peter sat forward. "You okay?"
She nodded, but slowly. "Yeah. Just... wondering how much he knows. And why he didn't say more."
Ned blinked. "Wait—should I be worried too? I mean, FRIDAY scanned me. What if I end up on a watchlist?"
Peter rolled his eyes. "You're fine, Ned."
Ned crossed his arms, mock serious. "Tell that to my future kids. I'll have to explain why Iron Man once scanned my cholesterol."
They all laughed.
But under the laughter, something unspoken lingered — the spark of something bigger.
Riley adjusted the gauntlet on her lap, fingers brushing its edge. "We're in this now, huh?"
Peter looked at her. "Yeah. We are."
---
[Avengers Tower – A.C.S.D. Command Room, Level 10]
Manhattan, New York City
June 4, (2015)
Thursday, 5:02 p.m.
The massive glass panels dimmed automatically as Tony Stark walked in, peeling off the Mark 45 suit piece by piece with the help of hovering drone arms. He tossed the chestplate onto a tray and cracked his neck.
Bruce Banner, standing at a large holographic display table, looked up from his tablet. "So… that was fast."
Tony wiped his face with a towel. "Yeah. Found a Chitauri-grade repulsor in a school alley. Casual Thursday."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Was it his?"
"Kid built it. Reengineered, actually. With scrap. But it was originally fabricated by someone else."
He swiped a hand across the holo-table. A 3D scan of the glove popped up, rotating slowly.
Banner frowned, leaning in. "That's Stark-core technology... and this?" He zoomed in on the capacitor ring. "That's... Max's sequence code."
Tony exhaled. "Yeah. That Max."
Bruce tensed. "I thought you said he was off-grid."
"He was," Tony said bitterly, grabbing a glass of water. "After the A.S.C.D. fallout, I buried his access and had him escorted out. Next thing I know, his daughter's running around with a hybrid repulsor and making me nervous."
Bruce blinked. "Wait—Riley Green? That was her?"
Tony nodded. "Friday scanned her. Daughter of Max Green. Lab familiarity. Genetic match. And sharp—real sharp. She fired that thing cleaner than I expected."
Bruce ran a hand through his hair. "You think she knows what her father was doing?"
Tony paused.
"No." He stared at the holo-glove. "And I'm not the one who's gonna break it to her."
Bruce tapped a few keys. "Well… if she has Max's mind and his instinct to cross lines…"
Tony looked at him.
"…she's either gonna build something brilliant—or burn the sky."
Tony smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Exactly why I'm watching."
He turned away, the cityscape beyond the glass buzzing in the distance, the past catching up faster than ever.
---
[Avengers Tower – A.C.S.D. Command Room, Level 10]
Manhattan, New York City
June 4, (2015)
Thursday, 5:27 p.m.
The hum of Stark tech pulsed gently in the background, holographic screens suspended midair. Bruce was scrolling through Max Green's profile while Tony stared at the paused image of Riley in the alley, firing the repulsor.
The door whooshed open.
Steve Rogers stepped in, followed by Natasha Romanoff, both fresh off a debrief.
Steve: "You mean Max Green? The guy you said got his hands on a sample of my S³ blood?"
Tony nodded without looking back. "Yup. The same guy Natasha sniped from 200 meters out when he tried to sneak it out of his home lab."
Natasha: "Still one of my favorite shots."
She crossed her arms and looked at the 3D model of the glove still floating mid-air. Her eyes narrowed at the Chitauri energy matrix woven into Stark-core hardware.
Natasha (quietly): "We still don't know what he's up to… or how he's still sourcing Stark tech after being cut off."
Bruce: "We're talking about a guy who rewired alien neural gel to sync with human cognition. He doesn't need a warehouse—he just needs scraps."
Tony: "Look, I don't wanna play the long game of 'who finds Max first'. We've got bigger threats than grounded, disgruntled ex-scientists."
Bruce: "Tony… you know he's going to build it again. The Cloning Device."
Tony: "Yeah. And at the pace he's working? It'll take at least 2 to 3 years—so 2017, maybe 2018."
Steve: "Then don't keep my blood in vials, Stark."
Tony smirked. "Relax. Natasha torched those years ago."
Natasha nodded. "Clean fire. No samples left."
The door slid open again.
Clint Barton walked in with a slice of pizza and a shrug.
Clint: "Huh? What's the pep talk about?"
Tony: "Max Green. Our favorite ex-lab rat. Currently unemployed, disgruntled, and still very much a pain."
Clint took a bite. "Why not just bag him?"
Tony: "Because technically? He's done nothing illegal—yet. And I'm not gonna trash the dignity of the Green family just because Max has an ego issue with me."
Steve: "You think the daughter knows?"
Tony: (quietly) "No. She's just 14. Riley Green. Smart, crazy smart. Scans show she assembled the first glove in her dad's old lab—probably didn't even know what she was working with."
Natasha: "She's his wildcard."
Bruce: "Or his cover."
Tony stared at Riley's profile on the screen — bright eyes, Stark-core tech glowing on her wrist.
He muttered to himself. "The real reason we're not moving on Max…"
Pause.
"…is because he's using her."
Silence fell over the room.
Natasha (low): "And she doesn't even know it."
Tony: "Not yet. But if she gets too deep in his shadow... we're gonna have a real problem."
Steve nodded grimly. "Then we better keep our eyes open—before 2018 shows up early."
Tony: "Yeah. Because if Max finishes what he started…"
He glanced at Bruce.
"…we won't be dealing with just clones. We'll be dealing with a war of originals versus copies."
The screens flickered — Riley's repulsor glowing again in a looped scan.
Fade out.
---
[Parker Residence – Living Room, 4th Floor Apartment]
Queens, New York City
June 4, (2015)
Thursday, 7:39 p.m.
Aunt May had gone full hospitality mode the moment Riley walked through the door—blankets, cookies, and way too much lemonade.
May (grinning): "Riley, you're absolutely adorable! You eat? You need anything? Vitamins? Peter never brings home girls, you know."
Peter (mortified): "May—!"
Riley (blushing): "I'm fine, really."
May (rubbing her shoulders): "You let me know if he's not a gentleman. I'll ground him until college."
She winked and headed to the kitchen. Peter looked like he wanted to melt into the floor.
Ned (whispering): "Bro… she loves her more than she loves us."
Peter: "Shut up."
---
[Peter's Room – Moments Later]
They all flopped onto the bed and chairs, Peter with his laptop open, Ned pulling up his tablet, and Riley curled beside the window.
Ned: "Okay. Operation Max Green deep dive. I'm going full internet ninja mode."
Peter: "Use incognito this time, dude."
Riley (smirking): "Paranoid much?"
Peter: "Says the girl with a Stark-level repulsor on her arm."
Riley: "Touché."
They scrolled. Articles. Tech blog mentions. A few blurry conference photos.
Ned gasped. "Yo—wait! Got something!"
He spun the tablet around.
Peter squinted. "Is that… Max? With… Tony Stark?!"
Riley leaned forward, stunned. The image was old—early 2000s, maybe—showing a younger Max Green in a Stark Industries lab coat, standing next to a smirking Tony Stark during a press conference on energy weapons.
Peter: "So your dad really did work with Stark..."
Riley (quiet): "He never mentioned knowing him personally."
Ned (scrolling): "This says Max got booted after something called... 'A.S.C.D. Phase I'."
Peter: "That's what FRIDAY scanned. The Advanced Superior Cloning Device."
Ned: "Which means your dad wasn't just in the room. He was the room."
Riley sat back slowly, brow furrowed. "…He always told me Stark Industries used him. That they stole everything."
Peter (gently): "You think he's lying?"
Riley (softly): "I think… I don't know what to think."
Silence.
Ned: "Welp… this just got way above our paygrade."
Peter (glancing at her): "We'll figure it out. Together."
Riley looked at him, grateful but confused.
Outside, the sun was setting, casting orange light across the window—peaceful, but brief.
Because soon… chaos was coming.
---
[Abandoned Ferry Dock – Underground Salvage Lair, Sublevel B2]
Staten Island, New York City
June 4, (2015)
Thursday, 7:49 p.m.
The humid air beneath the dock reeked of seawater and rust. Flickering utility lights hung from salvaged scaffolding, casting jagged shadows across the cluttered lair. The walls were lined with crates stamped D.O.D.C., chunks of broken Ultron drones, and alien tech scavenged from past battles.
Max Green, sleeves rolled up, calibrated the glowing core of the S.C.D. (Superior Cloning Device)—its containment ring pulsing with unstable energy. The machinery buzzed like a hive, surrounded by a tangle of Chitauri wiring and retrofitted Stark circuitry.
Max (smirking):
"They're probably tearing apart my old place right now. Feds, Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D. wannabes. All looking for a ghost."
He turned to face the others.
Max:
"But the genius of it? This is where the future's being built. Not in labs. Not in towers. Right here—underground."
Adrian Toomes tightened a joint on the talon mechanism of his upgraded Vulture suit, sparks flying as he locked it in.
Adrian:
"We're ghosts now, Max. And ghosts? They haunt the living."
Phineas Mason approached, holo-pad in hand. Behind him, the Shultz brothers rolled in a cart loaded with alien fragments, repulsor parts, and a scorched Ultron Mark 2 head, its red optics long dead.
Phineas:
"The tech drop's solid—Chitauri gauntlets, Stark drone cores, even a chunk of a Leviathan spine. D.O.D.C. must've missed half their manifest."
Max (grinning):
"Good. In a few years, they'll realize what I was building. And by then, it'll be too late."
Adrian (raising a hand):
"To the next era... built from their trash."
Max:
"No... forged from their betrayal."
They all nodded. In the dark, buzzing heart of Staten Island, a storm was brewing—quiet, calculated, and ready to rise.
---
[Green Residence – Living Room, First Floor]
Brooklyn, New York City
June 4, (2015)
Thursday, 8:26 p.m.
The front door creaked open.
Riley Green stepped in cautiously, her backpack slung over one shoulder, still processing everything from Peter's place. The lights were dim. Too dim. She blinked.
Then—
Click.
The hallway lights flared on.
Inside, standing like statues in her living room, were two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and behind them…
Steve Rogers. Natasha Romanoff. Bruce Banner. Tony Stark.
All there. Waiting.
Riley (tense, surprised):
"…You've gotta be kidding me."
Tony (arms crossed, voice calm but cutting):
"Evening, Miss Green. Hope you don't mind—we let ourselves in."
Natasha:
"We didn't touch anything. Except maybe the encryption on your dad's hidden basement servers."
Riley (bitterly):
"You really went through our house?"
Bruce (gently):
"Riley, your father was involved in something dangerous… something we should've shut down years ago."
Steve (stepping forward):
"We need to talk. About the gauntlet on your arm… and what Max Green was building before he disappeared."
Riley:
"I don't know where he is."
Tony (narrowing his eyes):
"Maybe not. But you're walking around with alien tech on your wrist and blueprints tied to old Stark protocols. I don't believe in coincidences."
Riley (hard stare):
"Then believe this—I made that gauntlet myself. From scraps. Not from some world domination plan."
Tony (quietly, like he's testing her):
"Then you've got your father's mind. That's the part I'm worried about."
A tense silence.
Natasha (tilting her head):
"She's not lying."
Tony (softening just slightly):
"…No. But she's still in the middle of something big."
Steve:
"Let's give her a chance to help us fix it. Before someone else pulls her into something she can't walk out of."
---
[Green Residence – Dining Room, First Floor]
Brooklyn, New York City
June 4, (2015)
Thursday, 9:03 p.m.
Riley sat across the dining table from Steve, Natasha, and Tony, while Bruce quietly observed from the side. Her fingers drummed against the wood—nervous energy disguised as defiance.
Her mother, Emily Green, stood in the kitchen archway, pretending to check the kettle but hearing every word.
Steve (calmly):
"You said you built the gauntlet yourself. From what exactly?"
Riley (without hesitation):
"From parts Dad left behind. And some tech I… might've borrowed from Midtown's old robotics closet."
Tony (raising a brow):
"Define 'borrowed.'"
Riley:
"Define 'you showing up in my house uninvited.'"
Natasha tried not to smile.
Tony (leaning forward):
"Listen, Stark tech doesn't grow on trees. And what you're using—that gauntlet? That's not just junk. It's dangerous in the wrong hands. Lucky for you, I haven't labeled you wrong yet."
Riley (defensively):
"I'm not my father."
Tony stared at her a moment… then glanced back at Emily. She met his eyes without flinching, calm, protective.
Tony (quietly):
"No. But that's why we're here."
Emily (finally speaking, smooth and sincere):
"She's a teenager. A gifted one, sure, but a good one. Don't treat her like an enemy."
Steve (softly):
"We just needed the truth."
Riley stayed quiet. For once, she didn't have more to say.
Tony stood up. Walked to the table, pulled out a Stark-branded card, and slid it across to her.
Tony:
"Meet me at Avengers Tower. Tomorrow, 10 a.m. Don't make me send a Quinjet."
He paused. Looked over his shoulder.
Tony (dry):
"Bring the kid. The hyper one. Peter."
Riley blinked.
Tony was already heading out the door.
Natasha (passing Riley with a faint smirk):
"You did good. Most people cry halfway in."
Riley:
"I don't cry easy."
Natasha:
"Neither did I."
One by one, they left. Until only Bruce lingered behind. He gave Emily a knowing look—a polite scientist-to-scientist nod.
Bruce (softly):
"He's hiding something. We'll find out eventually."
Emily (smiling faintly):
"I'm sure you will."
Bruce left.
The house went still again.
Riley sat frozen. Then slowly looked down at the card in her hand.
Emily (from the kitchen, calm):
"You should go. Tomorrow."
Riley (still staring at the card):
"…Did you know they were coming?"
Emily (turning, quietly):
"No. But I'm not surprised. Tony Stark always finds the truth. Sooner or later."
Riley:
"You trust him?"
Emily (nodding softly):
"I do. Not because he's perfect—but because he cares. About the world, about kids like you… about doing what's right, even if it gets messy."
Riley:
"Even if Dad's part of that mess?"
Emily (gentle):
"He wouldn't hurt you to get to your father. That's not who he is."
Riley (looking down):
"…What if I end up like Dad?"
Emily walked over, kneeling beside her.
Emily:
"Then I'll still love you. But I raised a better version. You're smarter. Kinder. And you'll never be alone in this."
Riley:
"You really think he'll listen to me?"
Emily (smiling faintly):
"I think Stark's smarter than your father gives him credit for. And he already sees something in you… something important."
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Hey, it's the writer here, busted hehhe what's up everyone hope you like the story till now. Congrats for getting this far.