Movie Tech Extraction in Marvel

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Already 44 Chapters + daily 2 CHAPTERS.

While the story of the attack in Afghanistan slowly faded from the front pages, one piece of news about Tony Stark remained a blistering, persistent headline: "Tony Stark Closes Stark Industries Weapons Division."

The fallout was immediate and catastrophic. For nearly a week, the stock market savaged Stark Industries. The stock price plummeted by forty percent, then forty-five. Panicked shareholders, seeing a future without lucrative government arms contracts, began dumping their shares in a frenzy. While most of the market was running from the fire, a single, anonymous investment account began to move, calmly and aggressively buying up every available share at bargain-basement prices.

With the money from his previous ventures, Aidan could never have afforded a significant stake. But now, with the stock in freefall, he made his move. Using the chip factory and its associated patents as collateral, he secured a massive line of credit from a private bank and poured it all into the market.

Inside the company, Tony had directed Pepper Potts to begin acquiring stock to consolidate his control. But by the time she acted, it was too late. Aidan Parker, moving with digital speed, had already snatched up nearly every loose share, securing a fifteen percent stake in Stark Industries.

He reviewed the new power structure from his lab, a cold smile on his face. Tony held the controlling fifty-one percent. Obadiah Stane, a formidable obstacle, held a thirty-four percent stake, giving him veto power. And now he, Aidan, held the remaining fifteen percent—enough to call ad-hoc meetings, to question, to investigate, to make life very difficult for anyone he chose. His next target was clear: Obadiah's shares. But that would have to wait. He knew Stane would eventually make a move as the Iron Monger, and in the ensuing chaos, his opportunity would come.

For now, he had another project. He needed to make a movie.

He found Principal Angus in his study, surrounded by books. "Another leave of absence, Aidan?" the old man had asked.

"I have a new project, sir. An animated film."

Angus had sighed, then handed him a business card. "Bobby Lyle. He's one of my former students, runs a small but brilliant animation team. They just finished a project and are available. They're based in San Francisco. I told him the director of Real Steel might be calling. He was… intrigued."

"Thank you, Principal," Aidan had said, genuinely grateful. He often came to Angus's home to borrow books from his vast personal library, and their talks had become a small comfort, a connection to a normal life he was rapidly leaving behind.

"It's good that you still come to see an old man," Angus had said, his eyes kind. "You're always welcome here."

Now, with sufficient funding and a new mission, Aidan was on his way. He got permission from Aunt May, a negotiation that ended with him promising to send her a photo of himself every single day so she knew he was alive. It felt absurd, like he was a soldier going off to war, but he agreed.

He drove across the iconic Golden Gate Bridge, the deep orange towers stark against the blue sky. He snapped a quick selfie, the wind whipping his hair, and sent it to May with a smiley face emoji. Her reply was almost instantaneous.

"You went all the way to San Francisco?! You just wait until you get back, young man! Knife emoji, knife emoji, knife emoji…"

He smiled, typed back, "Working on something big. Love you." and put the phone away.

He found the address for the animation studio deep in the vibrant, bustling heart of San Francisco's famous Chinatown. A man with glasses and an enthusiastic smile was waiting for him on the street.

"Aidan Parker?" he asked, waving. "Bobby Lyle. It's an honor." He shook Aidan's hand with gusto. "Angus told me all about you, but I have to admit, it's still hard to believe the director of Real Steel is a thirteen-year-old high school student."

"I get that a lot," Aidan said. "The principal speaks very highly of your team."

"Then you found the right people!" Bobby beamed, leading him into an office building and up to the third floor. He threw open the door to a large, cluttered studio. "Brothers and sisters of the pixel! Our new boss is here! Say hello to Aidan Parker!"

The room was a hive of creative energy. A woman with a boisterous laugh and a head of curly hair, Erica Motley, was doing vocal warmups into a microphone. Across from her, a grizzled, intense man with a thick beard, Elsie Moses, was hunched over an editing bay, his eyes glued to a screen. A stylish young man with slicked-back hair, Jair Myron, was sketching a beautiful explosion of light on a large tablet. And in the corner, a quiet, focused woman named Kelsey Quan was lost in her work, her desk covered in stunningly precise character sketches.

They all came over to greet him warmly, their new boss. After Bobby made the introductions and explained their roles—Erica on voice, Elsie on editing, Jair on special effects, Kelsey on character art, and himself on scene design—Aidan got straight to the point.

"Okay," he said, pulling a thick folder from his backpack. "I won't waste your time. I'm choosing to shoot this animated film because I have a product launching soon, and I want to use the movie's popularity for publicity." The team exchanged slightly concerned looks. "I've already prepared the complete script and detailed character portraits." He laid the folder on the table. "Your job is to follow these designs. Exactly. If you have suggestions, you can bring them to me, but no changes are to be made without my express permission. Is that clear?"

The welcoming atmosphere in the room instantly chilled. The smiles vanished, replaced by stiff, professional masks. These were seasoned artists, masters of their craft, and this kid was telling them to be simple technicians, to color within his lines. It felt deeply disrespectful.

An awkward, tense silence fell over the room. It was Bobby Lyle who finally broke it, stepping forward and picking up the folder. "Well, let's see what the boss has given us, shall we?" he said, his voice tight. He was ready to give his old teacher's prodigy a chance, but if the material was amateurish, he would refuse the job, face or no face.

He opened the folder and began to read the script. His professional skepticism slowly began to melt away. The plot was clever, full of novel technological concepts, but also a surprisingly deep exploration of grief and hatred. It was good. Very good.

Then, he turned the page and saw the character designs. His eyes landed on the central drawing. It was a simple, inflatable, marshmallow-like robot with a gentle, minimalist face.

And in that moment, Bobby Lyle understood everything.

He saw the soul of the entire project. He didn't just see a cute character; he saw a global icon. He saw plush toys, theme park rides, Halloween costumes. He saw a character so pure, so endearing, so perfectly designed for maximum healing and huggability that it would conquer the world. The kid's strictness wasn't arrogance; it was the fierce protection of a creator who knew he had captured lightning in a bottle.

He looked up from the drawing, his eyes wide with a new understanding, and met Aidan's gaze. "No problem, sir," he said, his voice now full of genuine respect. "We'll do it exactly as you've written."

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