A Rider Kick in Marvel Rewrite

Tony Stark's Malibu mansion gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight. Inside, Pepper Potts watched him carefully, her professional demeanor masking a deep underlying concern. She had seen Tony through countless transformations, but this felt different.

"Are you okay?" Pepper asked, her voice measured and calm.

Tony turned, a practiced smile crossing his face. "I'm fine," he responded quickly, his tone dismissive yet familiar.

He walked toward her, his movements slightly more deliberate than usual. The recent trauma of his captivity still lingered beneath his confident exterior. Tony's eyes flickered with a mix of determination and something else—a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"Are you worried about the stocks dropping?" Tony asked, his gaze fixed on Pepper.

Pepper met his eyes steadily. "Whatever your decision, I'll follow it," she said. Her voice carried a weight of experience. "I've tried to stop you before, and we both know how well that's worked out."

A hint of a genuine smile crossed Tony's face—part amusement, part acknowledgment of their long-standing dynamic. Pepper had always been more than just an assistant. She was his anchor, his most trusted confidante.

J.A.R.V.I.S. interrupts them. "Sir, Mr. Stane has arrived."

Tony's demeanor shifted instantly. His relaxed posture stiffened, and he turned toward the entrance. Obadiah Stane walked in, his large frame filling the doorway. Something was different about him—a mix of worry and barely contained anger etched across his face.

Stane's eyes locked onto Tony, his voice carrying a pointed tone. "You pulled quite a stunt."

Tony leaned against his desk, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. "Did I just paint a target on the back of my head?" he asked Stane, his tone casual but with an underlying edge.

Stane's eyebrows furrowed. "Your head? What about my head?"

The tension in the room shifted, a familiar dance of corporate sparring between the two men. Stane moved closer, his massive frame casting a shadow over Tony's more compact figure.

"So," Stane said, changing the subject, "what do you think the over-under on the stock drop is gonna be tomorrow?"

Tony considered for a moment, his mind already calculating potential market reactions. "Forty points," he replied with an optimistic shrug.

Stane nodded, a hint of a smile crossing his face. "At minimum," he responded.

Obadiah Stane's massive frame loomed over Tony, his voice carrying a mixture of frustration and genuine concern. "Why did you shut down the weapons manufacturing?" he demanded.

Tony crossed his arms, meeting Stane's gaze directly. "We're a weapons manufacturer," Stane continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "That's what we do."

"I don't want our legacy to be just a body count," Tony responded firmly. His mind flashed back to the weapons he'd seen in Afghanistan, the destruction they'd caused.

Stane's expression hardened. "What we do keeps the world from falling into chaos," he argued, leaning closer to Tony. "We are Iron Mongers. We make weapons."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "Not based on what I saw," he replied, his voice low and resolute.

The tension between Tony and Stane crackled like static electricity. Tony's eyes gleamed with a mixture of frustration and determination.

"We're not doing a good job," Tony said bluntly. "We can do better."

Stane raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he challenged. "What exactly are you suggesting? That we start making baby bottles?"

Tony leaned forward. "I think we should take another look into arc reactor technology."

A heavy sigh escaped Stane. His exasperation was palpable. "The arc reactor is nothing more than a publicity stunt," he declared. "It was never cost-effective, we knew that when he built it. Arc reactor technology is a dead end."

Stane continued, his voice growing more dismissive. "We haven't gotten a breakthrough in 30 years."

Tony's response was measured, almost contemplative. "Maybe," he said simply.

The silence stretched between Tony and Stane, thick with unspoken tension. Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills.

"You've got a lousy poker face," Tony finally said, breaking the stillness. His voice was casual, but his eyes were sharp and calculating.

He turned to Stane. "Who told you?"

When Stane didn't immediately respond, Tony pivoted toward Pepper. "Did you tell him?"

Pepper shook her head, her expression neutral but her eyes watching the interaction carefully.

Stane waved a hand dismissively. "Never mind who told me. Show me."

Without hesitation, Tony pulled open his shirt, revealing the glowing arc reactor embedded in the center of his chest. The blue-white light illuminated the room, casting stark shadows across their faces.

Obadiah Stane's reached out and carefully buttoned up Tony's shirt, covering the glowing arc reactor. His touch was almost paternal, but his voice carried an edge of controlled frustration.

"We're going to take a lot of heat from this," Stane said, his tone serious. "I need you to let me handle things. Promise me you'll lay low for a while."

Tony looked at Stane, his expression a mixture of defiance and acquiescence. "I'll try," he responded, the words carrying just enough ambiguity to suggest he might not fully comply.

Stane studied Tony for a moment, seeming to weigh whether to press further. Then, apparently satisfied, he turned and walked out of the room.

The moment Stane departed, Tony moved directly to his lab, his mind already racing with potential innovations and next steps.

…

The school bell rang, signaling the end of another day. Ace gathered his backpack, glancing at Nico and Berto as they packed up their things.

"So," Nico said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "you're finally going to show us where you live?"

Ace chuckled, understanding her playful jab. "Don't get too excited," he warned. "I'm boarding in a small, cozy café. Nothing glamorous."

"A café? Really? I was expecting something else."

Ace's expression softened. "Pops—the café owner—he took me in when I had nowhere else to go. I'm grateful for that." His voice carried a hint of sincerity that made Nico pause, her usual sarcastic demeanor momentarily replaced by genuine curiosity.

Berto, who had been listening quietly, nodded. "That's cool. Sometimes family isn't just about blood, you know?"

Nico raised an eyebrow, her gothic accessories catching the afternoon light. "Sounds like there's a story there," she said, her tone more interested than accusatory.

The trio continued walking, the conversation light and easy, heading toward Café Pole Pole.

As they approached Café Pole Pole, the familiar bell chimed when Ace pushed open the door. The warm, inviting atmosphere of the café enveloped them immediately. Pops looked up from behind the counter, his eyes immediately focusing on Ace and his two companions.

"Welcome back, Ace!" Pops called out, his voice cheerful and welcoming. He noticed the two unfamiliar faces and tilted his head slightly. "Are these friends of yours?"

Ace smiled, stepping forward. "Yes, Pops. This is Nico," he said, gesturing to the gothic-styled girl, "and this is Berto," he continued, indicating the other teenager.

Pops leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with curiosity and warmth. "Nice to meet you both! Friends of Ace are always welcome here."

As Ace and his friends entered Café Pole Pole, a group of young women near the window began whispering and giggling. Their excited glances were clearly directed at Ace, who seemed oblivious to their attention.

"Ace," Pops called out with a knowing smile, "could you help serve those customers? They have been waiting for you all day."

Ace nodded and turned to Nico and Berto. "I'll be right back. Just need to change into my work uniform."

He disappeared into the back room, leaving Nico to observe the scene. She leaned closer to Berto and muttered, "Wow, Ace sure has a lot of fans."

The women continued to steal glances and whisper, their excitement palpable as they waited for Ace to return and serve them their coffee.

Ace smoothly navigated between tables, his movements practiced and efficient. He approached the group of women, notepad in hand, with a warm smile. "What can I get for you today?" he asked, his voice friendly and professional.

The women exchanged excited glances, each trying to catch Ace's attention. They placed their orders - a mix of lattes, cappuccinos, and pastries - which Ace carefully noted and prepared with practiced skill.

Meanwhile, at the bar counter, Pops chatted with Nico and Berto. "So, you're friends of Ace?" he asked, polishing a coffee mug. "He's quite the popular one around here."

Berto chuckled. "Seems like it," he remarked, watching Ace serve the women.

Nico rolled her eyes, observing Ace's interactions. When he finished serving the women and approached the counter, she couldn't resist a playful jab. "Wow, Mr. Perfect Gentleman," she teased, a smirk playing on her lips. "Those women were eating out of the palm of your hand."

Ace looked slightly embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm just doing my job," he mumbled.

Berto pulled out his phone, scrolling through the stock market app with intense concentration. His eyes widened as he noticed the dramatic shift in Stark International's stock prices. "Holy crap," he muttered, turning the screen towards Ace and Nico. "Stark's stock just dropped over 40 points."

Ace leaned in, a calculated look crossing his face. "This is exactly the moment we've been waiting for," he said confidently. "Time to buy."

Nico raised an eyebrow. "You're seriously thinking of investing right now?"

"Absolutely," Ace replied. "When everyone else is selling in panic, that's when smart investors buy."

Berto nodded, already pulling up his trading app. "I'm in for 100 dollars," he declared. He quickly executed the trade, his fingers tapping rapidly on the screen.

Nico shrugged. "I'll throw in 50," she said, making her own purchase.

Then Ace casually pulled out his phone and entered a trade for 1,000 dollars.

Berto's jaw dropped. "Wait, what? A thousand dollars?" He stared at Ace in disbelief. "Where did you even get that kind of money?"

Nico looked equally shocked. "That's a massive investment for a high school student," she said, her voice a mix of surprise and skepticism.

Ace looked up from his phone, a calm smile spreading across his face. "I've been saving up since I started working at Pole Pole," he explained matter-of-factly. "Every shift, every tip goes straight into my investment fund."

Nico's skeptical expression deepened. "That's way too risky," she warned, leaning forward. "What if you don't see a return? You're throwing away all of your savings."

"I'm confident," Ace replied, his voice steady. "It's all in for me."

Berto watched the exchange, his eyes darting between Ace and Nico. The tension was palpable.

Nico shook her head, looking at Ace like he had lost his mind. "You're crazy," she muttered, her voice a mix of disbelief and concern.

Ace kept his confident smile, revealing nothing about his true motivations. He knew exactly what would happen when Tony Stark made his announcement, but he wasn't about to share that insider knowledge with Nico or Berto.

"Sometimes you have to take risks," Ace said simply, his tone casual and noncommittal.

Berto nodded, impressed by Ace's boldness. "I respect that," he said. "Go big or go home, right?"

Nico rolled her eyes. "More like go broke or go home," she muttered, but there was a hint of admiration in her voice.

***

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Advance chapters are in my P@|r3on - Najicablitz