Silver Superman (Marvel)

"J.A.R.V.I.S, how is your system vulnerability self-examination going?"

Tony Stark stepped into his underground laboratory, the familiar hum of machinery greeting him as holographic projections lit up the room.

"Sir, several vulnerabilities have been identified and are currently being repaired," J.A.R.V.I.S. responded. "This includes the breach from last night. Estimated repair time: three days."

Tony took a sip of the green chlorophyll smoothie on his workbench and grimaced.

Ugh… This stuff tastes awful.

Compared to this, a glass of whiskey sounded far more appealing.

"Good. I don't want a repeat of what happened last night," Tony muttered.

The memory sent a chill down his spine.

That intruder… If he'd meant any harm…

Fortunately, the bald man with the eye patch—Director Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D.—hadn't come to kill him.

Instead, he'd invited Tony to join some "superhero boy band" called the Avengers Initiative.

Tony still couldn't decide if the idea was ridiculous or intriguing.

"Alright, J.A.R.V.I.S., let's get to work."

Tony placed the empty glass aside and approached the holographic interface.

"I woke up this morning with a new design concept—something lightweight, portable, and easy to equip. A suit I can deploy instantly in emergencies."

"This new armor will be designated as Mark V," J.A.R.V.I.S. confirmed.

"Keep in mind, sir, reducing the suit's weight will require sacrificing certain weapon systems."

"I know," Tony replied, his fingers flying across the holographic keyboard as he adjusted the virtual schematics.

"This suit isn't for heavy combat. It just needs to be fast, portable, and strong enough to take down anyone who decides to break into my house again—especially if that one-eyed head of S.H.I.E.L.D. shows up uninvited."

"Understood, sir."

Tony continued refining the design, his mind already visualizing the silver and red suit encased in a sleek briefcase for easy transport.

This would be his first truly portable Iron Man armor—a game-changer for any situation where he couldn't access his full lab.

As J.A.R.V.I.S. processed the design parameters, the AI's smooth voice interrupted Tony's concentration.

"Sir, you wished to inquire further with Mr. Ethan about certain matters. Have you done so?"

Tony hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I did, but… I must've been out of my mind."

Why did I think a science fiction writer would know anything about real-world technology?

"Most of his ideas probably come from wild imagination," Tony said, shaking his head.

He recalled their conversation from the previous night.

But still… there was something strange about it.

"Wait…" Tony paused, eyes narrowing as he replayed the exchange in his mind.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., did I mention something unusual just now?"

"Sir, you noted that Mr. Ethan referred to the Arc Reactor by name."

Tony's pulse quickened.

He knew about the Arc Reactor.

But how?

While the world knew about Iron Man, very few people outside of Stark Industries were aware that the Arc Reactor embedded in Tony's chest was both the heart of his suits and the device keeping him alive.

And he was certain he'd never mentioned it to Ethan.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., that had to be a coincidence, right?"

"Writers are indeed skilled at naming fictional technology," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied, though there was a trace of uncertainty in its tone.

"Perhaps Mr. Ethan's mention of the Arc Reactor was mere happenstance."

"Yeah… Maybe."

But Tony couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Ethan than met the eye.

He regretted leaving the party so abruptly last night.

I should've stayed and asked more questions.

Still… It's probably just a coincidence.

Taking a deep breath, Tony pushed the thought aside and refocused on the Mark V's design.

For the next two hours, he worked tirelessly, adjusting the armor's components and running simulations of various deployment scenarios.

"Sir, Miss Potts is here," J.A.R.V.I.S. announced.

"Let her in."

Before the AI could respond, Pepper Potts' voice echoed from the entrance.

"No need—I know you're always in the lab at this hour."

Tony turned in his chair as Pepper approached, her sharp eyes immediately catching the holographic projections of the Mark V.

"What's this one called? Mark 17? Mark 18?"

"Mark V," Tony replied, standing up and brushing his hands against his jeans.

"There's a bit of a mess here—I've been meaning to clean up."

"It's always a mess," Pepper teased, folding her arms.

"So, what brings you down here?" Tony asked.

"There's been some discussion about the future direction of Stark Industries. I thought we could talk."

"Here?"

"Why not?" Pepper replied with a shrug.

Tony glanced at the unfinished elemental experiments on the other side of the lab and decided it would be better to leave work behind for a bit.

"How about we talk over dinner instead?" he suggested.

Pepper raised an eyebrow.

"Are you… asking me out on a date, Mr. Stark?"

Tony rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah. I guess I am."

Pepper glanced down at her outfit—a professional but casual ensemble she wore for meetings.

"Give me a few minutes. I'll head upstairs and change into something more appropriate."

"There's a room upstairs I had prepared for you," Tony reminded her.

"Yes, the one I've never used," Pepper replied with a smirk.

"Still, it's nice to know you've been keeping it ready all this time."

As Pepper headed upstairs, Tony watched her go with a faint smile.

The warmth in his chest was tempered by the cold reminder of the Arc Reactor embedded there.

How much longer do I have before the palladium poisoning gets worse?

Lifting the device that measured his blood toxicity, he pressed his thumb against the scanner.

Blood Toxicity: 10%

"J.A.R.V.I.S.," Tony murmured.

"It feels like my life's on a countdown timer."

"Sir, do not lose hope. We have yet to exhaust all possibilities in our search for alternative elements."

"Yeah… Maybe."

But deep down, Tony knew the truth: Earth's periodic table didn't have an element capable of replacing palladium.

I need a miracle.

Shaking off the grim thoughts, Tony clapped his hands and turned toward the wardrobe hidden in the wall.

"Alright, J.A.R.V.I.S. Find me a Michelin-star restaurant with a great atmosphere. And I want the whole place reserved."

"Understood, sir."

"And… I should probably put on a suit that doesn't have oil stains all over it."

As J.A.R.V.I.S. searched for the perfect restaurant, Tony selected a tailored black suit with a crisp white shirt—classic, elegant, and perfect for dinner with Pepper.

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