The dust from the imploded Blockbuster roof was swirling in the night air, illuminated by the flashing red and blue lights of an approaching police car. The siren wail was getting louder, piercing the ringing in Tony's ears.
"We must go, Master Tony," Jarvis said, his voice tight with a mixture of adrenaline and iron resolve. He still had a protective arm clamped around Tony's shoulders, guiding him away from the wreckage and the glowing woman standing amidst the debris.
Tony dug his heels into the sidewalk. "No, wait! Jarvis, stop!"
"Sir, this is not a negotiation," Jarvis said, not slowing his pace. He ushered Tony toward a side street, away from the gathering crowd. "That was an explosion of unknown origin. There is a collapsed rooftop. It is unsafe."
"But she's alone!" Tony protested, twisting his head to look back. Through the gap in the crushed storefront, he could still see the faint, pulsating glow of photon energy. He knew exactly what that was. It wasn't just a woman; it was one the most powerful being in the galaxy, confused and suffering from amnesia. It was Kree technology. It was the future. "She looked... lost, Jarvis. I think she's hurt. We can help her!"
"We can help her by allowing the authorities to handle it," Jarvis countered, though his grip on Tony softened just a fraction. He looked down, seeing the desperate earnestness in the boy's eyes. "Tony, look at me. You are ten years old. My responsibility, above all else, is to keep you breathing. Walking toward a blast site is strictly contrary to that directive."
Tony slumped. He knew that tone. It was the 'Alfred voice'—the one that brooked no argument. He couldn't exactly explain that he knew she was a space soldier who thought her name was Vers but who was actually an Air Force pilot named Carol Danvers.
"Fine," Tony grumbled, kicking a pebble. "But we're missing out. Big time."
"I am quite content to miss out on pieces of a falling cieling," Jarvis said, wiping a smudge of soot from his own cheek. He managed to call a passing taxi, his composure returning as if he hadn't just tackled Tony behind a station wagon. "To the hotel, please."
The suite at the hotel was quiet when they entered, a stark contrast to the chaos of the street. The heavy door clicked shut, sealing out the noise of North Hollywood.
Howard and Maria were already there. Howard was sitting on the plush sofa, his tie loosened, a tumbler of scotch in one hand and a stack of blueprints on his lap. Maria was pacing by the balcony, looking out at the city lights.
When the door opened, Maria spun around. Her eyes widened when she saw them—dishevelled, smelling of smoke, with dust on their clothes.
"Oh my god," she breathed.
She didn't ask questions. She just moved. In three strides she was across the room, dropping to her knees in front of Tony. She pulled him into an embrace so tight it squeezed the breath out of him.
"Where were you?" she murmured into his hair, her hands trembling as they rubbed his back. "I was so worried. You were gone so long."
"We just went for burgers, Mom," Tony said, his voice muffled by her shoulder. He hugged her back, feeling the frantic beat of her heart. "We're okay. Just... a little dusty. There was an accident down the street."
"An accident?" Howard stood up, his sharp eyes scanning Jarvis. "Is everyone alright? Jarvis, you're bleeding."
Jarvis touched his forehead, looking at the small smear of red on his fingertips. "A minor scrape, sir. A storefront collapsed nearby. We were fortunate to be at a safe distance."
Howard nodded, his expression shifting from concern back to pragmatic assessment. He checked his watch. "11:00 PM. A bit late for excitement, don't you think?"
"Howard!" Maria scolded gently, pulling back to cup Tony's face. She used her thumbs to wipe a smudge of dirt from his cheek. "Look at him. He's tired." She looked at Tony, her eyes shimmering with that fierce, unconditional love that always made Tony's chest ache. "I am so sorry, my baby. I shouldn't have left you alone. I should have stayed. We could have ordered room service and watched movies."
"It's okay, Mom," Tony said, forcing a smile. "Really. Jarvis took good care of me. And the burger was awesome."
"You are too good to me," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."
Howard sighed, rubbing his temples. He looked exhausted, the weight of the company clearly pressing on him. "Jarvis, I hate to ask, considering the hour and... the dust. But I have these contracts for the land acquisition. The zoning laws in California are a nightmare. Could you help me cross-reference the clauses?"
Jarvis straightened his posture, the consummate professional. "Of course, Mr. Stark. I will be with you momentarily."
Maria took Tony's hand. "And I am taking this young man to bed. No arguments."
Tony didn't argue. The adrenaline was fading, leaving him heavy and tired. He followed his mother into the massive master bedroom where a smaller rollaway bed had been set up for him near the window.
She helped him out of his dusty clothes. Tony grumbled as she fretted over a small scrape on his knee, insisting on cleaning it with a wet washcloth.
"Mom, I'm fine," he complained, batting her hand away gently. "It's just a scratch. I build robots, I get cut all the time."
"Not on my watch," she said firmly. She helped him into his silk pajamas—ridiculous things, really, but she loved buying them for him.
Once he was tucked in, the sheets cool and crisp against his skin, Maria sat on the edge of the bed. She reached over to the nightstand and picked up a book.
"Mom," Tony groaned, sliding down under the covers. "I'm ten. I calculate thrust-to-weight ratios for fun. I'm too old for a bedtime story."
"You are never too old for a story," Maria said softly, opening the book. It was Beauty and the Beast. "And humor your mother. I missed you today."
Tony sighed, but he didn't stop her. He watched her profile in the soft light of the bedside lamp. She looked beautiful, but tired. He knew, with the curse of future knowledge, that his time with her was limited. Every second like this was a diamond he had to hoard in his memory.
"Once upon a time," she began, her voice melodic and soothing, "in a faraway land, a young Prince lived in a shining castle..."
Tony listened, letting his eyes drift shut. He thought about the Beast. A creature made of anger and sharp edges, hiding away in a castle, terrified of the world and terrified of himself. He thought about the future Tony Stark—the one who lived in a high-tech tower, hiding behind suits of armor.
Am I the Beast? he wondered. Or am I the Enchantress? Enchanter ?
Maria finished the story, her voice dropping to a whisper. "...and they lived happily ever after."
She closed the book and set it down. She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, her hand lingering on his cheek.
"I know you think you're grown up, Anthony," she whispered. "And in your head, you are. You're so smart, it scares me sometimes. But moments like this... they're precious. To me. And maybe one day, when you have a little genius of your own, you'll understand. You'll want to freeze time just to keep them safe for one more minute."
Tony felt a lump in his throat. He thought of Morgan. A daughter he hadn't met yet, in a timeline that might never happen.
"I love you, Mom," he whispered.
"I love you too, my sweet boy. Sleep well."
She leaned down, kissed his cheek, and turned off the lamp. The door clicked shut, leaving him in darkness.
But Tony couldn't sleep.
His mind was a whirlwind. Captain Marvel was in Los Angeles. The Skrulls were coming. SHIELD was involved. Nick Fury—with two eyes—was probably on his way right now. The trajectory of the entire universe had just crash-landed two blocks away, and he was lying in bed wearing silk pajamas.
He tossed and turned. He stared at the ceiling, visualizing the Kree energy signature he had seen. He thought about the photon blast. If he could harness that... if he could understand the power source...
Eventually, exhaustion won. The math equations in his head slowed down, and he drifted into a dreamless sleep.
Clink. Sizzle.
The smell of bacon woke him up.
Tony opened his eyes, blinking against the morning light streaming through the sheer curtains. He sat up, rubbing his face. The digital clock on the nightstand read 7:30 AM.
He slid out of bed, his feet hitting the plush carpet. He walked into the main living area of the suite. The room was empty of his parents, but the kitchenette was active.
Jarvis stood by the stove, wearing an apron over his shirt and trousers. He was flipping bacon with the precision of a surgeon.
"Good morning, Master Anthony," Jarvis said without turning around. "I trust you slept well?"
"Like a log," Tony lied, hopping onto one of the bar stools at the counter. "Where is everyone? It's quiet."
"Your father received a call at 6:00 AM," Jarvis said, sliding a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of Tony. "GeneralRoss, I believe. Or perhaps someone from the Pentagon. He had to leave immediately for the airfield."
Tony picked up a piece of bacon. "And Mom?"
Jarvis smiled faintly as he moved to the sink to wash a pan. "Your mother was... less than enthusiastic. She wanted to be here when you woke up. However, Mr. Stark was quite insistent that her presence was required for the social aspect of the meeting. I believe a bribe was involved."
"A bribe?" Tony grinned. "Jewelry?"
"A promise of a week in Italy, unencumbered by business," Jarvis corrected. "Though I suspect she will make him pay dearly for dragging her away regardless."
Tony chewed his bacon, swinging his legs. It was just the two of them. Again. It was a familiar pattern, but having Jarvis made it bearable.
He watched Jarvis scrub the pan. The butler moved with a calm efficiency that was hypnotic. Tony cleared his throat.
"So," Tony started, trying to sound casual. "About last night."
Jarvis paused, the sponge still in his hand. He didn't look up. "If you are referring to the pyrotechnics display at the video rental store, I suggest we classify that as a 'closed chapter'."
"I was just thinking," Tony said, leaning forward on the counter. "The police were there last night. They probably taped everything off. But... whoever that lady was, she didn't have a car. She didn't have a bag. She was just... there."
Jarvis turned around, drying his hands on a towel. He raised an eyebrow. "Anthony."
"She looked confused, Jarvis," Tony pressed, dropping the 'cool kid' act and leaning into the vulnerability that he knew Jarvis couldn't resist. "Like... like she didn't know where she was. Remember when I got lost in the stark expo crowd when I was six? And I couldn't find you or Dad?"
Jarvis's face softened. He remembered. He had found Tony crying behind a display of repulsor prototypes.
"I remember," Jarvis said softly.
"I just... I want to make sure she's okay," Tony said, widening his eyes. "We don't have to talk to her. We don't have to get close. I just want to drive by. See if she's... you know, safe. If she's not there, we come right back. I promise."
He held up his hand. "Scout's honor. And I wasn't even a scout."
Jarvis looked at the boy. He saw the intellect of a man, yes, but he also saw the heart of a child who simply couldn't stand the idea of someone being alone and afraid. It was Tony's greatest weakness and his greatest strength.
Jarvis sighed, a long, defeated exhale. He untied his apron and folded it neatly.
"If we go," Jarvis said, pointing a finger at Tony, "and if there is even a hint of danger—a single police siren, a wisp of smoke, or a glowing individual looking agitated—we leave immediately. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal," Tony beamed, shoving the rest of his toast into his mouth.
"Finish your milk," Jarvis ordered, walking toward the bedroom. "I shall make the necessary preparations."
Ten minutes later, Jarvis emerged from his room. He looked like a man preparing for a tactical extraction, albeit a very gentlemanly one.
He was carrying a small duffel bag. Tony watched as he checked the contents.
"Water," Jarvis listed. "First aid kit. Protein bars." He reached into the side pocket and pulled out a sleek, black handgun. He checked the safety, then slid it into a holster concealed beneath his suit jacket.
Tony's eyes went wide. "You brought a gun?"
"One never knows," Jarvis said simply. He then produced a switchblade knife, slipping it into his pocket, and finally, a large, brick-like cellular phone. "And communication. Better to have it and not need it, as your father says about his lawyers."
Tony ran to his room and changed quickly. He threw on a plain black t-shirt, navy blue shorts, and his favorite blue and white sneakers. He looked like any other kid in Los Angeles, except for the calculative gleam in his eyes.
"Ready?" Tony asked, bouncing on his heels by the door.
"Against my better judgment," Jarvis muttered, opening the door. "After you, sir."
The morning sun was bright, burning off the haze of the previous night. North Hollywood was waking up. Shop owners were sweeping sidewalks, and traffic was building up on the boulevard.
As they approached the site of the Blockbuster, the damage was evident. The area was cordoned off with yellow police tape. A few construction crews were already there, sweeping up glass.
Jarvis kept a firm hand on Tony's shoulder, keeping them on the opposite side of the street.
"She's not here," Jarvis observed, scanning the scene. His shoulders relaxed visibly. "The police must have taken her in, or she moved on. See? An empty ruin."
"Wait," Tony said, squinting.
He scanned the perimeter. The Blockbuster was empty, yes. But next to it was a Radio Shack. And in front of the Radio Shack, sitting alone in the parking lot, was a phone booth.
Tony's heart leaped.
Inside the booth, huddled over the receiver, was the woman. She was wearing the same odd black and green star suit from the night before. She looked frustrated, slamming the phone down and picking it up again.
She was hacking the phone. Just like in the movie. She was rigging it to make an intergalactic call.
"There!" Tony whispered, pointing. "By the Radio Shack!"
Jarvis followed his gaze. He stiffened. "Good heavens. Is that... is she stealing phone service?"
"She's trying to call home," Tony said, his mind racing. He needed to get closer. He needed to hear what she was saying. He needed to see the tech she was using to bypass the switchboard. "Come on, J. Just a little closer. Behind that van."
"Anthony—"
"Please," Tony grabbed Jarvis's hand. "She's just making a call. She's not glowing anymore. Look at her. She's just a person."
Jarvis hesitated. He looked at the woman. She did look ragged. Desperate. Not a monster, but a stranded traveler.
"Very well," Jarvis conceded, moving them behind a parked delivery van that offered a clear view of the booth about thirty feet away. "But we stay here. If she moves toward us, we retreat."
Tony peeked around the bumper. He watched as Carol Danvers pulled a small, silver device from her pocket and interfaced it with the payphone. Sparks flew.
Universal translator? Tony wondered. Communicator?
He watched, mesmerized, as the woman punched in a sequence of buttons on the phone, her movements sharp and military.
"She's amazing," Tony whispered to himself.
"She is vandalizing public property," Jarvis whispered back, though he sounded more intrigued than disapproving.
Suddenly, the woman stopped. She turned her head, scanning the parking lot. Her eyes—sharp, blue, and terrifyingly intense—locked onto the delivery van.
Tony ducked back, heart hammering. "She saw us."
"Stay down," Jarvis ordered, his hand drifting toward the inside of his jacket where the gun was.
But she didn't attack. She just stared for a moment, then turned back to the phone. She had bigger problems than a nosy kid and a butler.
Tony risked another peek. This was it. The beginning of the Avengers initiative, really. The moment the universe got bigger. And he was the only Stark who knew it.
"Jarvis," Tony whispered.
He was frozen, his small hands gripping the edge of the delivery van's bumper, his eyes wide and unblinking as he stared at the phone booth thirty feet away.
To any other ten-year-old, or even to the few pedestrians walking past, the woman in the booth looked like a vagrant trying to steal a free call. She was huddled over the receiver, wires sparking from a device on her wrist.
But Tony saw the world differently. He saw the energy signature.
"Jarvis," Tony whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and scientific ecstasy. "Look at the refresh rate on the projection. It's not flickering. It's... it's solid light."
Jarvis, crouching uncomfortably in his bespoke suit behind the van, adjusted his grip on the handle of the switchblade in his pocket. "I see a woman vandalizing a Pacific Bell telephone, sir. And I see wires that are likely a fire hazard."
"No, look!" Tony hissed, pointing a small finger.
The woman, Carol—or Vers, as she knew herself—tapped a sequence of commands onto the metallic gauntlet clamped to her forearm. The air inside the phone booth shimmered. It didn't just glow; it bent. The space distorted, and suddenly, a holographic projection materialized in the air above the coin slot.
It wasn't the grainy, blue-tinted holograms Tony had seen in sci-fi movies or even the primitive prototypes in his father's R&D lab. This was high-definition, volumetric imaging. It looked real.
A man's face appeared. He was wearing the same green and black tactical suit as the woman. He looked concerned, his voice crackling not through the phone receiver, but seemingly vibrating the air itself.
"Vers? Can you hear me?"
Tony gasped. "Subspace transmission," he muttered to himself, his brain firing on all cylinders. "She's bypassing the local grid and using the copper wires as a grounding rod to boost a superluminal signal. That's... that's impossible. That's Einstein-Rosen bridge theory applied to telecommunications!"
"She is talking to a floating head," Jarvis noted, his tone dry but laced with a growing unease. "That is never a good sign, Anthony."
They watched as the woman spoke urgently to the hologram.
"I'm okay," she said, her voice tight. "My pod disintegrated on entry. I'm stranded on C-53."
"C-53?" the man in the hologram asked. "The planet is inhabited?"
"Yeah," she replied, looking around nervously. "It's... primitive. Listen, the ambush. It was a setup. The Skrulls... they're looking for someone."
Tony leaned forward, his sneakers scuffing the pavement. Skrulls. The word sent a chill down his spine. He knew the history—or rather, the future. The shapeshifters. The secret invasion.
"Did you get the code?" the woman asked. "Soh-Larr sent a coded message."
"We are analyzing it," the man replied. "But Vers, you must be careful. If the Skrulls are there, they will shapeshift. Trust no one."
"They want something called the Light Speed Engine," she whispered, glancing over her shoulder. "And they're looking for a scientist. A Dr. Larson."
"Larson," Tony mouthed the name, filing it away in his photographic memory. Light Speed Engine. The concept made his heart hammer against his ribs. If he could see that engine, if he could just get five minutes with the schematics, he could change the world. He could protect Earth without needing weapons.
"Hold your position," the hologram commanded. "We are coming for you. Do not—"
Click.
The hologram fizzled out. The payphone let out a harsh, metallic clang as the connection died.
"Damn it!" the woman shouted, slamming the receiver against the cradle. "I need more time!"
She frantically tapped at her wrist device again, but the screen flashed red. Her universal currency—or whatever power source she was using—had run dry.
"We have seen enough," Jarvis whispered, his hand clamping firmly onto Tony's shoulder. "Alien technology, intergalactic conspiracy, and a distressed super-soldier. This checks every box on your father's 'Do Not Engage' list. We are leaving. Now."
Jarvis turned to scan the street for a clear extraction route, checking for police or, god forbid, more aliens. It took him exactly two seconds to ensure the coast was clear.
"Come along, Master Anthony," Jarvis said, turning back to the bumper. "We shall go back to the hotel and—"
He grabbed at empty air.
The space beside him, where a small boy in navy blue shorts had been standing, was vacant.
Jarvis froze. His heart didn't just skip a beat; it stopped entirely. He looked left. He looked right.
"Oh, good heavens," Jarvis breathed, the color draining from his face.
He looked toward the phone booth.
There, standing directly in front of the intergalactic warrior capable of punching through starships, was Tony Stark. He was rocking back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back, looking up at her with a bright, disarming smile.
The woman, Vers, blinked in surprise. She had been about to punch the phone booth in frustration when the small human appeared out of nowhere. She looked down at him, confused by his lack of fear.
"You ran out of time," Tony said, his voice chipper and confident. "That happens with payphones. It's a racket, really. Designed to eat your quarters."
Vers stared at him. She tilted her head, analyzing him for threats. He was three feet tall and wearing light-up sneakers.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice guarded.
"I'm Tony," he said, extending a small hand. "And you have really cool tech. Is that a Kree universal translator on your wrist? Or is it a subspace transceiver? Actually, don't answer that. It's probably both."
Vers looked at his hand, then at his face. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. He was undeniably cute, in a nerdy way. She took his hand. Her grip was strong, like steel wrapped in velvet.
"I'm Vers," she said. "Kree Starforce."
"Nice to meet you, Vers," Tony beamed. "You're not from around here, are you? I mean, obviously not. But you picked a nice spot to land. Although, the Blockbuster didn't appreciate the renovation."
Before she could answer, the sound of frantic footsteps slapped against the pavement.
"Anthony!"
Jarvis skidded to a halt beside them, placing himself physically between Tony and the woman. He was out of breath, his usually perfect hair slightly askew. He looked at Vers with a mix of terror and polite determination.
"Anthony, you simply cannot wander off like that!" Jarvis scolded, though his eyes never left the woman's glowing fists. "I turned my head for one second!"
"Relax, J," Tony said, waving a hand. "We're just talking. This is Vers. She's Starforce."
Jarvis straightened his tie, recovering his composure. He looked at the woman. "My apologies, madam. My charge has a... terminal case of curiosity. I am Edwin Jarvis. The butler."
"Friend," Tony corrected immediately.
Jarvis paused. He looked down at the boy. Tony was looking up at him, his expression serious.
"He's not just the butler," Tony said to Vers, his voice firm. "He's my friend. He takes care of me."
A silence stretched between the three of them. Jarvis felt a warmth bloom in his chest that had nothing to do with the California sun. He swallowed the lump in his throat.
"It is... a pleasure to meet you, Miss Vers," Jarvis said, his voice slightly thicker than usual.
"You too," Vers said, her guard dropping further. She looked at Jarvis, then Tony. "You two are a weird team."
"We make it work," Tony grinned.
"Indeed," Jarvis cleared his throat. "However, it was very nice meeting you, but we really must be going. Your father will be wondering where we are, and frankly, standing in the middle of a crime scene is ill-advised."
"Hold on," Tony started. "I want to ask her about the Light Speed—"
SCREEECH.
The conversation was cut short by the aggressive sound of tires locking up on asphalt. Two cars—a generic black government sedan and a standard LAPD cruiser—swerved into the parking lot, coming to a halt directly in front of the Radio Shack.
The doors of the black sedan swung open.
A man stepped out. He was young, dressed in a sharp suit that looked a little too cheap for a banker but too expensive for a cop. He had close-cropped hair and sunglasses. He walked with a swagger that Tony recognized instantly.
Nick Fury. But young. And with two eyes.
He walked toward them, removing his sunglasses with a practiced motion and tucking them into his breast pocket. He looked at the shattered Blockbuster across the street, then at the woman in the green space suit.
"Excuse me, ma'am," Fury said, his tone casual but authoritative. "You know anything about a lady blowing a hole through the roof of that Blockbuster over there?"
Vers crossed her arms, looking unimpressed. "I witnessed it."
"Uh-huh," Fury nodded, pulling a notepad from his pocket. "Witness says she was dressed for laser tag."
Tony stifled a giggle. Laser tag.
"Yeah, I think she went that way," Vers said, pointing vaguely to her left with a straight face.
Fury didn't even look where she pointed. He just stared at her. "I'd like to ask you some questions. Maybe give you the 411 on the latest dropbox."
"Dropbox?" Tony whispered to Jarvis. "Is that spy talk?"
"Shh," Jarvis hissed.
"I'd like to see some identification, please," Fury said, stepping closer.
"Vers," she said, tapping the star emblem on her chest. "Kree Starforce."
Fury let out a short, mocking laugh. "Starforce. Right. And how long do you plan on staying in town, Miss Starforce?"
"I'll be out of your hair as soon as I track down the Skrulls invading the planet," she said, her eyes scanning the rooftops, her soldier instincts kicking in.
"Skrulls," Fury repeated, rolling his eyes. He turned to the man getting out of the passenger side—a younger man with a receding hairline and a kind face. Phil Coulson. "You hear that, Rook? Skrulls."
Coulson looked at the strange woman, then at the glowing device on her wrist. He didn't look as skeptical as Fury. "Sir, maybe we should—"
Fury turned back, and his eyes finally landed on the other two people standing by the phone booth. He looked at the immaculately dressed British man and the small boy in the navy shorts.
"And who are these two?" Fury asked, gesturing with his pen. "Your sidekicks? The Butler and the Boy Wonder?"
Jarvis bristled. "I beg your pardon, sir. We are merely bystanders. We were just leaving."
"No," Fury said, stepping in their path. "I don't think so. The witness also described a well-dressed man and a young boy loitering near the impact site. You fit the description."
"We were getting burgers!" Tony piped up. "And then we saw the roof explode. It was awesome."
"They aren't with me," Vers cut in, stepping forward to draw Fury's attention away from the civilians. "Listen to me. The Skrulls are shapeshifters. They can transform into anyone, down to the DNA.2 Simulating recent memories, personality, everything."
Fury paused. He looked her up and down. "So, let me get this straight. You're a space soldier fighting shape-shifting lizards, and you're hanging out with a kid and a butler at a Radio Shack."
"It's a phone booth," Tony corrected helpfully.
"Hold on," Fury held up a hand. "How exactly are we supposed to know you aren't a shapeshifter?"
Vers smirked. "Congratulations, Agent. You finally asked a relevant question."
"No congratulations to you, Starforce lady," Fury deadpanned, reaching for the badge on his belt. "You are under arrest."
Tony wasn't looking at Fury anymore. His eyes had drifted upward. The sun glinted off something on the roof of the hardware store across the parking lot. It was a lens flare. But not from a camera.
Tony's mind flashed back to his previous life. To the wars. To the Jericho missile demonstration. To the snipers in the desert.
Reflection. Elevation. Threat.
He saw the silhouette of a man on the roof. The man was holding a long, silver rifle that looked nothing like Earth technology.
"OVER THERE!" Tony screamed, pointing at the roof.
Everything happened in slow motion.
Fury turned his head.
Jarvis didn't look. He didn't think. The moment Tony screamed, the butler's instincts overrode his fear. He grabbed Tony by the back of his shirt and spun, pulling the boy into his chest and turning his back to the threat, shielding Tony with his own body.
ZZEEW!
A beam of violet energy tore through the air.
It missed Fury's head by an inch, singing the hair on his ear. It slammed into the brick wall behind them, leaving a scorching black crater where a payphone ad used to be.
"Get down!" Carol shouted.
She didn't run for cover. She shoved Fury hard, sending the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent sprawling onto the asphalt behind his car. In the same motion, she raised her fist.
The photon blast was deafening.
BOOM!
A beam of golden light erupted from her hand, traversing the distance to the roof in a millisecond. It smashed into the parapet where the sniper was, sending bricks and dust exploding into the air.
The sniper—a Skrull—scrambled back, leaping across to the adjacent building with superhuman agility.
"Stay here!" Vers yelled to Fury.
She bent her knees and launched herself into the air, not flying, but jumping with incredible force, vaulting over the Radio Shack sign and giving chase.
Silence returned to the parking lot for exactly one second.
Then, pure chaos.
"Start the car!" Fury yelled, scrambling up from the ground, his suit dusty. "Coulson, start the damn car!"
Coulson was already diving into the driver's seat of the black sedan, the engine roaring to life.
Fury looked at Jarvis and Tony. Jarvis was checking Tony over frantically, his hands shaking.
"You two!" Fury barked, yanking the back door of the sedan open. "Get in!"
Jarvis straightened up, clutching Tony's hand so tight his knuckles were white. "I beg your pardon? We have our own transportation, thank you very much!"
"There's an alien sniper on the roof and a lady shooting lasers from her hands!" Fury shouted, his cool demeanor cracking. "We are the extraction team. Get in the car or get shot!"
"I refuse to get into a vehicle with a man who nearly got us killed!" Jarvis retorted, stepping back. He reached into his pocket, his hand brushing the gun he had brought, but decided against it. Instead, he pulled rank. "Do you have any idea who this boy is? This is Anthony Stark! If a single hair on his head is singed, his father—Howard Stark—will not just have your badge, he will buy the agency you work for and turn it into a parking lot!"
Fury blinked. "Stark? Howard Stark's kid?"
"Yes!" Jarvis yelled. "So I suggest you—"
"Shotgun!"
Jarvis and Fury both froze. They looked at the car.
Tony was already in the back seat. He had slipped past them while they were arguing, climbed over the leather upholstery, and was currently buckling his seatbelt, vibrating with excitement.
"Come on, J!" Tony shouted, sticking his head out the window. "We're chasing an alien! Get in!"
Jarvis looked at the boy. He looked at the dangerous government agent. He looked at the precarious situation. He let out a noise that was half-groan, half-sob.
"I am going to need a substantial raise," Jarvis muttered.
"Get in, Jeeves!" Fury yelled, shoving Jarvis toward the car.
"It's Jarvis!"
Jarvis tumbled into the back seat next to Tony. Fury dove into the passenger seat.
"Go, Rook, go!" Fury slammed the dashboard.
Coulson floored it. The sedan screeched out of the parking lot, tires smoking, chasing after the trail of destruction Vers had left behind.
Inside the car, Tony was bouncing in his seat. "Did you see that gun? It was a directed energy weapon! And the photon blast? She generates it internally! We need to get a reading on that!"
"Master Anthony," Jarvis said, his voice terrifyingly calm as he pulled out the large brick cellphone from his bag. "Please sit back and be quiet."
"Who are you calling?" Tony asked.
Jarvis began dialing a number with trembling fingers. "I am calling your mother. And then, I am going to pray."
Fury looked back from the front seat, eyeing Tony. "Stark, huh? You got a lot of fire for a pipsqueak."
"And you have two eyes," Tony noted. "For now."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Fury frowned.
"Nothing," Tony grinned, looking out the window as Los Angeles blurred by. "Just... watch out for cats."
Guys I'm looking for a new element for my arc reactor. A friend suggested powerstones could replace badassium !