Marvel: The saiyan

The flight back to my secluded home was silent, but my mind wasn't. The wind whipped past my ears, the horizon stretched endlessly in front of me, but for once, I couldn't savor the freedom of the skies. My thoughts were tangled, looping back to the conversation I'd had with Tony Stark.

Obadiah Stane.

The name lingered in my mind like an itch I couldn't scratch. Not because I cared about Stark, or even Stane for that matter, but because the warning I'd given Tony didn't sit right with me.

Why did I even bother?

I clenched my jaw, pushing my energy harder as the forest below came into view. My house sat just beyond the treeline, hidden from the chaos of the world. It was my sanctuary, my retreat—where I trained, planned, and pushed myself toward a future I was still trying to shape.

And yet, today, it didn't feel like enough.

I landed softly in the clearing, the grass bending under my boots. The familiar surroundings of the forest should've grounded me, but as I walked up to the house, unease followed me like a shadow.

Obadiah was just a human. A cunning one, sure, but nothing more than a man. No power, no aura, no strength that could threaten me—or Tony, for that matter. If anything, Stark needed this. He needed someone to betray him. To wake him up. To make him stronger. That was how the timeline was supposed to go.

So why did I feel like I'd made a mistake by walking away?

Inside, the house was just as I'd left it—quiet, unassuming, and more than a little boring. I tossed my scouter onto the desk, the green display blinking faintly in standby mode before I flicked it off. Dropping onto the couch, I let out a long sigh, staring at the ceiling.

"Stark can handle himself," I muttered, as if saying it aloud would make it true.

But as my tail twitched restlessly around my waist, I knew the words rang hollow.

The Training Ground

I stepped outside, hoping the strain of training would drown out my thoughts. The forest clearing stretched out in front of me, the air heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth. This was my haven, the place where I could test my limits without worrying about destroying anyone or anything that mattered.

I took a deep breath, letting my energy rise slowly. My ki flared around me, golden sparks dancing along my arms as I shifted into my stance.

A quick punch sent a shockwave rippling through the air, scattering leaves from the nearby trees. I followed it up with a spinning kick, the force of my foot slicing through the wind like a blade. My strikes were strong, precise, and controlled. But something felt… off.

My movements were sharp, but my mind was scattered. Every punch, every kick felt like it carried the weight of a question I couldn't ignore.

What if Stane was smarter than I thought?

What if Stark wasn't ready?

What if this—right now—was the moment I should've intervened?

The questions clawed at the edges of my focus, and with a growl of frustration, I drove a fist into the nearest boulder. The rock shattered into a cloud of dust and debris, scattering across the clearing.

The silence that followed was deafening.

I stood there, breathing heavily, my hand still outstretched toward the pulverized boulder. Bits of rubble crumbled away under the weight of their own collapse, falling into the dust below.

"Enough," I muttered under my breath, brushing the stone fragments off my knuckles.

This wasn't like me. Second-guessing, worrying about things I couldn't control… that wasn't the Saiyan way. I was here to grow stronger, to prepare for the challenges I knew were coming. Stane? Stark? They weren't my problem. They couldn't be.

But deep down, I couldn't ignore the faint twinge of unease gnawing at my gut. My instincts—those same instincts that had carried me through countless fights and training sessions—were trying to tell me something.

Maybe it was nothing.

Or maybe it was everything.

Stark's Garage

Back in Malibu, Tony Stark was buried in his work. His garage buzzed with activity, the air thick with the hum of machinery and the faint metallic tang of welding. Holographic displays floated in the air around him, their light casting a faint blue glow over the sleek tools and half-finished prototypes that filled the room.

The Mark II suit was nearly complete. Its polished silver frame gleamed under the overhead lights as Stark tested the thrusters, muttering to himself as he adjusted the flight stabilizers.

"JARVIS," Stark said, wiping a smudge of grease from his cheek, "run a diagnostic on the right repulsor. That last test felt… off."

"The repulsor is functioning at ninety-eight percent efficiency, sir," JARVIS replied smoothly. "However, I recommend recalibrating the stabilizers to compensate for the minor torque imbalance."

"Torque imbalance," Stark repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know, sometimes I think you enjoy pointing out my mistakes."

"Only when they're amusing, sir," JARVIS quipped.

Stark chuckled, shaking his head as he grabbed a wrench and got to work. Despite the banter, his focus was razor-sharp. The Mark II was his priority—his ticket back into the air.

But the gravity chamber… that was another story.

Stark swiped a hologram to the side, bringing up the schematics for the chamber. The design was bold, even by his standards—a sleek, circular room reinforced with high-density alloys, equipped with a gravity generator capable of pushing fifty times Earth's gravitational force.

He stared at the blueprint, letting out a low whistle.

"Fifty times Earth's gravity," he muttered, shaking his head. "What kind of lunatic asks for something like this?"

The hologram flickered as JARVIS chimed in. "Shall I prioritize the construction of the gravity chamber, sir?"

Stark paused, considering the question. On one hand, the chamber was an engineering challenge unlike anything he'd tackled before—a puzzle that would test his skills and push the limits of his tech. On the other hand, it wasn't exactly top of his list.

"Not yet," Stark said, swiping the hologram aside. "We've got bigger fish to fry."

"Very well, sir," JARVIS replied. "Shall I allocate additional resources to—"

"JARVIS," Stark interrupted, raising a hand. "One impossible project at a time. Mark II first, gravity chamber later. If Shallot's in such a hurry, he can wait. Or, you know, build it himself."

"Duly noted, sir," JARVIS said.

As Stark turned back to the Mark II, a faint smile tugged at his lips. Shallot's request might've been insane, but there was a part of him—the part that thrived on challenges—that couldn't help but be intrigued.

"Still," Stark muttered to himself, tightening a bolt on the Mark II's left thruster. "Fifty times gravity? What the hell is that guy training for?"

The question lingered in the air, unanswered.

Shallot's Inner Conflict Deepens

Back in my clearing, the shattered remains of the boulder still littered the ground. I stood in the middle of it all, staring at the sky as the sun dipped lower on the horizon.

I could feel it—the weight of my own hesitation. The cracks in my confidence. The nagging voice in the back of my mind that kept asking, What if?

But I wasn't ready to answer that question.

Not yet.

For now, I'd push the unease aside, bury it beneath training and routine. Stark could handle himself. He'd always handled himself.

And if he couldn't?

I clenched my fists, ki flickering faintly around me as I turned and walked back toward the house.

"If it comes to that," I muttered, my voice low but firm, "then I'll deal with it. My way."

A few days later, 

The Malibu sunset painted the horizon in hues of gold and amber as the sound of clinking glasses echoed through Stark's spacious living room. Tony, wearing a loose Black Sabbath tee and holding a tumbler of scotch, leaned casually against the counter. Ho Yinsen sat comfortably in an armchair, sipping tea like he was the calmest man alive.

I stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the waves crash against the cliffs below. My tail was carefully wrapped around my waist, hidden beneath my jacket—it wasn't something I flaunted casually. The sun dipped lower, streaking the sky with colors that might've been inspiring if my thoughts weren't already elsewhere.

"And let me tell you something, Yinsen," Tony said, gesturing dramatically with his glass. "This guy"—he jabbed a thumb in my direction—"just waltzes into the middle of a warzone like he's starring in his own summer blockbuster. Doesn't break a sweat, doesn't flinch. I mean, it was insane."

Yinsen chuckled, setting his cup down with deliberate care. "I was there, Tony. But I was slightly preoccupied trying not to bleed out at the time."

"Minor details," Tony replied, waving a hand dismissively. "But seriously, doc, you should've seen it. It was like watching John Wick—minus the suit and the tragic dog backstory."

I turned away from the window, smirking as I leaned against the back of the couch. "What can I say? If you're going to crash a party, you might as well make an entrance."

"Entrance?" Tony said, grinning. "You practically brought the house down. Literally. I'm pretty sure you leveled half the cave."

"Subtlety's overrated," I said, plucking an apple from a nearby fruit bowl. "Besides, you're the guy who builds flamethrowers into his suits. Pot, meet kettle."

Yinsen laughed softly, his warm, fatherly demeanor filling the room. "You have a point, Shallot. But I must admit, I find you fascinating. You're… not what I expected."

I raised an eyebrow as I bit into the apple. "Oh? And what exactly were you expecting?"

"Well," Yinsen began, his tone gentle but probing, "most people who risk their lives for others do so because they feel a sense of duty or obligation. But you… you seem different. Detached, almost. Like you're playing a game no one else knows the rules to."

Tony snorted into his drink, clearly enjoying this. "That's pretty spot-on. Shallot's got this whole mysterious loner vibe going on. The kind of guy who shows up, saves the day, and then vanishes before the press can ask questions."

I rolled my eyes, letting the sarcasm drip from my voice. "Might as well call me Batman. I'm dark, brooding, and I work alone. Except for the part where I had to save your butt."

"Batman?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Forget it," I said, brushing it off. DC Comics didn't exactly exist in the way I remembered, and I wasn't about to waste time explaining it. But it was still worth mentioning Superman still existed.

Yinsen chuckled but didn't let the moment slip away. "Perhaps it's none of my business, but I can't help but wonder—what drives someone like you? You don't strike me as a man who acts without purpose."

I shrugged, leaning back as I tossed the apple core into the trash. "What can I say? I like a good fight."

Yinsen tilted his head, studying me with a calm, knowing look that felt like he could see straight through me. "Strength for its own sake, then? That's a dangerous path, Shallot."

I held his gaze for a moment, my tail twitching under my jacket. Yinsen's words hung in the air, heavier than I wanted to admit. Finally, I shrugged, forcing a smirk. "I prefer to think of it as practical. And practical keeps me alive."

"Alive," Yinsen echoed softly, his expression unreadable. He didn't press further, but I could tell he wasn't convinced.

Tony broke the tension with an exaggerated groan, setting his glass down with a clink. "Alright, that's enough philosophy for one night. Next thing you know, Yinsen's going to pull out a Tibetan proverb or tell us to meditate."

"I wouldn't say no to a vacation," I said, smirking as I grabbed another apple. "Think the Ten Rings offer all-inclusive retreats in the mountains?"

That earned a laugh from Yinsen, and even Tony cracked a grin.

The laughter was still dying down when Pepper walked in, tablet in hand and her sharp heels clicking against the floor. She stopped just inside the living room, raising an eyebrow at the scene.

"Let me guess," she said, her tone laced with dry amusement. "Tony's making himself sound like a hero again?"

Tony grinned, raising his glass. "Not sound like a hero, Pepper. Be a hero. Big difference."

"Sure," Pepper replied, glancing at Yinsen and me. "And I'm guessing neither of you are challenging that narrative?"

Yinsen lifted his teacup in mock surrender. "I don't have the energy to argue with Tony's ego tonight."

"Smart man," Tony said, pointing at him. "Shallot, you could learn a thing or two from Yinsen here."

I raised an eyebrow, tossing my apple core into the trash with a casual flick. "Oh, I learn something new from you every day, Stark. Mostly about what not to do."

Pepper hid a smile behind her hand before turning her attention fully to me. "And you? Any chance you're the voice of reason in this little boys' club?"

"Reason?" I said, smirking. "Not really my thing. I'm more of a 'sit back and enjoy the chaos' kind of guy."

"Fantastic," Pepper said, her tone deadpan. "Just what we needed—another overgrown child."

"Hey," Tony protested. "I saved your life. Twice, if you count Afghanistan and my continued brilliance."

Pepper sighed. "Tony, you didn't save my life—don't exaggerate. But yes, Shallot, thank you for helping him. Lord knows he wouldn't have made it out on his own."

"You're welcome," I said, leaning back with a smirk. "Though you could've sent a thank-you card. Maybe some flowers. I hear roses are a safe bet."

Pepper rolled her eyes, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. "I'll keep that in mind next time."

She crossed the room to stand beside Tony, her eyes flicking to the tumbler in his hand. "And you," she said, her tone soft but firm, "maybe go easy on the scotch? You've got the gravity chamber project, the Mark II suit, and about a hundred other things to finish in the next week."

Tony groaned dramatically. "Pepper, it's one drink. I think I can handle it."

"I've seen what happens when 'one drink' turns into three," Pepper countered, crossing her arms. "And you're impossible to deal with when you're hungover."

"She's got a point," I said, smirking. "Hungover Stark sounds like a nightmare. Not that sober Stark's much better."

"Wow," Tony said, feigning offense. "Is there a 'roast Stark' memo I didn't get? Because it feels like everyone here's in on it."

Pepper ignored him, turning her attention back to Yinsen. "Dr. Yinsen, how are you feeling? I know the hospital cleared you, but if there's anything you need, just say the word."

Yinsen smiled warmly. "Thank you, Miss Potts. I'm feeling much better. The tea helps, and you've been a wonderful host."

"Good," Pepper said, smiling. "Just keep letting me know if Stark starts driving you insane. It's part of the job description."

She glanced back at Tony. "Oh, and the gravity chamber components are being delivered tomorrow. The suppliers confirmed everything's on schedule."

Tony perked up. "See? This is why I keep you around, Pepper. You're the glue that holds this operation together."

"And don't you forget it," Pepper replied before heading toward the door.

Tony leaned back in his chair, grinning as he swirled his drink. "Fifty times Earth's gravity," he muttered. "The things I do for my mysterious houseguest."

I glanced at him, smirking faintly. "You'll thank me later."

Finally, she sighed and tucked the tablet under her arm. "Well, I'll leave you three to… whatever this is."

"Team bonding," I said, smirking.

Pepper raised an eyebrow, her expression somewhere between amusement and disbelief. "If that's what you want to call it."

She turned to leave but paused at the doorway, glancing back at me. "And, Shallot… thanks. For everything. Really."

I gave her a small nod, the smirk softening into something more genuine. "Don't mention it."

As Pepper exited the room, the click of her heels fading down the hall, the silence that followed was comfortable, almost reflective. Only the faint hum of Tony's AI systems filled the space, a quiet reminder of the house's high-tech heartbeat.

"She's good people," Yinsen said after a moment, his tone warm and thoughtful as his gaze lingered on the doorway.

"Best in the business," Tony agreed, swirling his drink lazily. Despite the casual words, there was a sincerity in his voice. "Honestly, I'd be dead without her—probably from forgetting to eat or wandering into traffic."

"Or spontaneously combusting from sheer recklessness," I added, leaning back against the couch.

Tony raised his glass in mock agreement. "To Pepper Potts—the queen of duct tape, damage control, and reminding me to not die."

Yinsen chuckled softly, and I couldn't help but smirk. For all the chaos Stark seemed to thrive on, there was something undeniably grounding about Pepper. Even when she was sharp-tongued or exasperated, she carried an unshakable calm that managed to steady the room.

As the conversation drifted to lighter topics—Tony reminiscing about ridiculous past projects and Yinsen chiming in with a quiet sense of humor—I found myself glancing back at the doorway where Pepper had left. Her words stuck with me more than I'd expected, a faint but persistent echo in my thoughts.

There was something about the way she said "thanks" that lingered, though I couldn't quite put my finger on why.

The Next Day

The early morning Malibu sunlight poured through Stark's garage, gleaming off the nearly-completed Mark II suit. The workshop buzzed with activity—holographic displays flickering mid-air, tools scattered across the workbenches, and JARVIS's voice chiming in with its usual precision.

Tony was practically vibrating with excitement. He had been up all night fine-tuning the Mark II, tweaking the repulsor systems, recalibrating the flight stabilizers, and obsessing over every last detail. By the time the sun rose, the suit stood gleaming in its metallic glory—a testament to Stark's genius and stubborn persistence.

Yinsen and I stood near the edge of the garage, watching as Stark slipped into the suit piece by piece. The mechanical arms of his assembly rig moved with practiced efficiency, fastening each segment into place.

"You sure you're ready for this?" I asked, arms crossed as I leaned against a nearby workbench.

Tony grinned, the helmet still resting on the table. "Ready? Shallot, I was born ready. This is the fun part."

Yinsen raised an eyebrow. "Fun? You're about to strap yourself into a machine powered by experimental technology and launch yourself into the sky. I'd call that something other than 'fun.'"

Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Relax, Yinsen. What's the worst that could happen?"

"You could die," I deadpanned.

"Minor detail," Stark shot back, grinning as he grabbed the helmet. "Don't worry, I've got this."

Yinsen and I exchanged a look. It was clear neither of us was convinced, but Tony wasn't exactly the kind of guy you could talk out of something once he had his mind set.

The suit clicked into place, the arc reactor glowing faintly beneath the sleek silver chestplate. Stark adjusted the fit, rolling his shoulders as the suit powered up, the faint hum of energy filling the garage.

"JARVIS," Tony said, his voice already laced with excitement, "give me a systems check."

"All systems are operational, sir," JARVIS replied. "Repulsors are online. Flight stabilizers are calibrated. Power levels are stable."

"Good," Stark said, sliding the helmet over his head. The faceplate snapped shut with a metallic hiss, and for a moment, he stood still, the glowing eyes of the suit flickering to life.

"Alright, boys," Stark's voice came through the external speakers, slightly distorted but unmistakably cocky. "Time to take this bad boy for a spin."

Yinsen stepped back, his expression somewhere between curiosity and concern. "Please don't crash."

"Relax," Tony said, his voice filled with confidence. "I'm a quick learner."

With that, the repulsors on his hands and feet flared to life, lifting him a few feet off the ground. The suit wobbled slightly, but Stark quickly adjusted, steadying himself with a triumphant laugh.

"See?" he said, hovering in place. "Easy."

"Right," I said, raising an eyebrow. "Now try not to hit the ceiling."

Tony ignored me, his focus shifting entirely to the controls. The repulsors roared as he shot forward, flying out of the garage and into the open Malibu air. Yinsen and I followed him to the edge of the cliff, watching as he soared higher and higher, a silver streak against the clear blue sky.

Stark's laughter echoed over the comms, pure and unfiltered joy. "This is incredible! JARVIS, how high can we go?"

"Altitude limits have not yet been tested, sir," JARVIS replied. "Proceed with caution."

"Noted," Tony said, clearly ignoring the warning as he pushed the suit higher.

The suit cut through the clouds like a missile, the arc reactor glowing brighter as the altitude climbed. I could see him experimenting with the controls, banking left and right, testing the suit's agility.

For a moment, everything seemed perfect. Stark's genius had come to life in a way that even I had to admit was impressive.

And then it happened.

"Uh, JARVIS?" Stark's voice crackled through the comms, suddenly less cocky. "Is it getting cold in here, or is it just me?"

"External temperature is dropping rapidly, sir," JARVIS replied. "Ice formation detected on critical components."

The suit began to sputter, the repulsors faltering as thin layers of frost formed along the joints and vents.

"Okay, not good," Stark muttered, his voice tight with alarm. "JARVIS, power down—wait, no, power up! I don't know, just do something!"

"Attempting to stabilize," JARVIS said, though even the AI sounded unsure.

The suit's movements grew erratic, Stark flailing as the repulsors flickered in and out of power. And then, like a stone, he started to plummet.

"Well, that didn't take long," I muttered, already leaping into the air.

As Stark tumbled through the clouds, I soared upward, the wind whipping against my face as I closed the distance between us.

"JARVIS!" Stark shouted, his voice panicked. "Do something! Anything!"

"I'm doing my best, sir," JARVIS replied calmly, though it was clear the situation was dire.

I caught up with him just as the ground started coming into view, grabbing the suit by its chestplate and stabilizing his descent.

"Hold on," I said, my voice steady as I slowed our momentum.

Stark let out a shaky laugh, his voice still coming through the external speakers. "Well, this is… humiliating. Thanks for the save."

"Don't mention it," I said, lowering us to the ground. "Seriously. Don't mention it. Ever."

As we touched down, Stark slumped against a nearby rock, the suit's faceplate retracting to reveal his slightly pale face.

"Alright," he said, catching his breath. "Maybe I need to work on the altitude thing."

"You think?" I replied, raising an eyebrow.

Yinsen jogged up to us, his expression a mix of relief and exasperation. "Tony, are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Stark said, waving him off. "Just a minor hiccup. Nothing I can't fix."

I crossed my arms, smirking. "You call almost turning into a human popsicle a 'hiccup'?"

"Hey," Stark said, pointing at me. "I'm a pioneer. Pioneers take risks."

"Sure," I said, rolling my eyes. "Just try not to get yourself killed before you finish building my gravity chamber."

Stark grinned, already back to his usual cocky self. "Don't worry, Shallot. I'm not going anywhere."

Yinsen sighed, shaking his head. "You're both insane."

"Maybe," I said, smirking. "But at least we make it interesting."

As Stark headed back toward the garage, muttering to himself about frost-resistant alloys and flight stabilizers, he paused mid-step, turning to face me with a curious look.

"Wait a second," he said, pointing at me. "You can fly. Like, actually fly. Not with a suit or anything—just… you."

I shrugged. "Yeah. So?"

"So?" Tony repeated, his voice rising slightly. "You didn't think that was something worth mentioning earlier? What else can you do? Are you bulletproof? Laser vision? Can you turn invisible? Do you bench press tanks in your free time?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," I replied, smirking.

"Yes, I would," Tony shot back, clearly exasperated. "Seriously, who are you, Superman's cousin or something?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "Relax, Stark. Let's just say I'm not from around here and leave it at that."

Tony narrowed his eyes, but I could see the wheels turning in his head. "You're full of secrets, you know that?"

"That's part of my charm," I said, turning to walk back toward the cliff. "Now, stop asking questions and focus on fixing your suit. You're not ready to fly solo yet."

Tony muttered something under his breath but didn't press further. For now, at least.