AutumnXd
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CHAPTER 15
🕑 Added 2025-06-20 14:51:49 +0000 UTCA month passed. In the shadowy world of international arms dealing, Obadiah Stane slowly finalized his treacherous arrangements with his contacts in Afghanistan, waiting for the perfect moment to send Tony Stark into the fire.
Miles away, in the stark beauty of the desert, Aidan Parker was playing with fire of his own.
He stood on an open test range under a blistering sun, a pair of immense, silver-white mechanical wings folded against his back. They were sleek, powerful, and made him look like a figure from mythology. With a thought, they unfurled, and with a roar of contained energy, blue flames erupted from their integrated thrusters, launching him into the sky.
He soared, the overwhelming steel wings carrying him with breathtaking speed. Once he reached a certain altitude, the flapping ceased, the wings locked into a delta shape, and he swooped into a high-speed glide, streaking across the sky like a futuristic jet.
On the ground, a new sound erupted: the percussive thump-thump-thump of automated cannons and the shriek of small rockets. A storm of lead and explosives tore through the air, converging on his position. Aidan, however, remained perfectly calm, his flight path steady. When the volley was just five hundred meters away, his wings reacted. Hundreds of razor-edged, feather-like steel flechettes peeled away from the main structure, forming a shimmering, incandescent shield around him. The air filled with a series of concussive blasts as every single bullet and shell was intercepted mid-flight. When the smoke cleared, Aidan and his wings were completely unscathed.
After another minute of aerial maneuvers, he dove toward the ground. Data flashed across the inside of his glasses, tracking his descent. Just as a collision seemed imminent, the massive wings broke apart with impossible speed, a swarm of micro-robots flowing like liquid metal. They enveloped two wheel-like structures from the wings' assembly and re-formed on the ground below him. Aidan executed a perfect mid-air tumble and landed seamlessly onto the seat of a newly constructed, silver-white mag-lev motorcycle, the wheels locking into place with a satisfying thunk.
He gunned it. The bike shot across the wide, paved square, a silver blur weaving between obstacles. The surrounding desert scenery was drawn into a single, continuous line. A thick concrete wall erupted from the ground directly in his path. Aidan leaned low, and with a thought, two blades of pure blue plasma ignited from the front of the bike. The micro-robots of the chassis flowed forward, forming a triangular armored cone around him. The bike hit the wall not with a crash, but with a silent, searing hiss, leaving a molten-edged gash through the concrete as if it were tofu.
After another minute of high-speed testing, he brought the mag-lev bike to a smooth halt in front of the control station. As he dismounted, three small, silver-black arrows detached from the motorcycle's frame and floated to a stop in front of him, hovering silently in the air. These were his "Electromagnetic Arrow Cones," each tipped with a laser-induced plasma emitter capable of cutting through steel. The testing ground behind him was a ruin of bisected targets and scorched earth.
He retrieved the three arrows, their energy cells depleted, and walked back towards the lab, leaving the motorcycle to be retrieved by a maintenance drone. The neural headband he wore was his greatest achievement from this period of intense study. He had integrated an AI co-processor, allowing it to handle the immense data flow from his suit's sensors and translate his high-level neural commands into complex, simultaneous actions for the millions of micro-robots. In the air, it managed the "super sensor" suite, perfect for city-wide surveillance or interception. On the ground, it switched to a more focused, "sensitive sensor" mode to prevent data overload and prioritize immediate threat assessment. It was a masterpiece of efficiency. But even this, he knew, was a temporary solution. The real endgame, the ultimate goal, was to replace it all with self-replicating, liquid vibranium.
He entered a different part of the facility, a sterile, clean laboratory that stood in stark contrast to the scorched, chaotic workshop where he built his weapons. He walked over to a rectangular white box and pressed a button. The box opened with a soft hiss, and a large, inflatable robot emerged, its form cute and non-threatening.
"Hello. I am Baymax," it said, its voice calm and soothing. "Your personal healthcare companion. I will now scan you for any injuries." A light emanated from its "face," and a holographic human figure appeared on its round belly. "Scan complete. I have detected elevated levels of neural exhaustion. You must rest. I will now administer a sleep spray. Are you sure?"
"I'm sure I don't need it, thank you, Baymax," Aidan said with a genuine smile. This was the other side of his ambition. Baymax was to be the flagship product of his new company, his "soft power" to win the hearts of the world, while the Archangel flight system remained his "hard power," hidden in the shadows. He would even produce an animated movie based on his time in the Big Hero 6 world to serve as the ultimate marketing campaign.
That evening, as he was comparing test data, a news alert popped up on his phone.
"Stark Industries CEO Tony Stark to visit Afghanistan tomorrow for Jericho missile demonstration..." The comments below were already a firestorm of angry peace activists and fawning weapons enthusiasts.
Aidan put down his phone. It's time.
The next day, he made the call.
"Hello, Mr. Stane. It's Aidan Parker from Midtown High. I hope you remember me," he said politely.
"Aidan! Of course, I remember you," Obadiah's voice boomed from the speaker, full of false warmth. "I hear you've been busy with your research. Any new breakthroughs?" Today is the day, Obadiah thought, a thrill running through him. Today, Tony goes to Afghanistan.
"Some, but I've hit a wall," Aidan said, his voice a perfect imitation of a frustrated genius. "There are some complex problems with intelligent computer systems that I just can't solve. That's why I was hoping… I could ask for Mr. Stark's help."
Obadiah was surprised. "Tony? What for?"
"I know his expertise is primarily in weapons systems, but his work on integrated AI is unparalleled. I've asked every professor I know, and none of them have the answers. I was hoping I could ask his advice. Please, Mr. Stane."
"I'm sorry, son, but he's about to leave for Afghanistan. I don't think he'll have the time," Obadiah said, feigning regret.
"It doesn't matter! I can go with him!" Aidan pleaded, his voice full of earnest desperation. "I'll only take a few minutes of his time on the plane. Please, Mr. Stane. I believe he's the only one who can help me."
Obadiah’s eyes narrowed, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. This was an unexpected gift. The Ten Rings Gang could force the tech out of both of them. Two geniuses for the price of one.
"Alright, son," he said, his voice dripping with magnanimity. "I'll try my best to convince him. But you know Tony's temperament. Don't get your hopes up." The decision, of course, was already made.
"Thank you, Mr. Stane! Thank you so much!" Aidan said, his voice full of giddy relief.
After the call ended, Aidan packed a single, unassuming case containing the compressed form of Baymax, and headed for Stark Industries. He was walking into the lion's den, but he was bringing a Trojan horse of his own.
