Marvel: Monkey King

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Stark Tower – 10:15 AM

Tony Stark was never a morning person. Which was a shame, considering how often Pepper Potts insisted on dragging him out of bed for things like meetings, press conferences, or court-mandated responsibility.

Today was one of those days.

"Tony," Pepper's voice rang through the sleek, modern penthouse, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked toward him with a tablet in hand.

Tony—half-dressed in a casual suit with sunglasses on indoors—was lounging on the couch, sipping coffee.

"Potts," he greeted lazily, tilting his head back. "Have I told you that you're my favorite person today?"

Pepper didn't even look up from the tablet. "I'm the only person you've seen today."

Tony pointed dramatically. "Which makes my statement even more meaningful."

Pepper sighed. "Uh-huh. Save the charm for Germany."

Tony's face scrunched up. "Ugh. Germany? That's today?"

Pepper lowered the tablet and gave him a flat look. "Yes, Tony. The Gorani Insurance meeting? The one we've rescheduled three times? The one where we're begging them to insure us after the Obadiah incident nearly sank the company?"

Tony leaned back, groaning dramatically. "Right. That. Super exciting. Can't wait."

Pepper crossed her arms. "Well, unless you want to start paying for Stark Industries' damages out of pocket, I suggest you at least pretend to be interested."

Tony waved a hand. "Oh, come on. I'm Tony Stark. People love giving me money."

Pepper tilted her head. "Do they? Because so far, no insurance company wants to work with us anymore."

Tony sipped his coffee. "Cowards."

Pepper sighed. "Just… behave yourself, Tony. And don't take the Iron Man suit."

Tony paused.

He removed his sunglasses dramatically. "Pepper. I'm offended."

She raised a brow. "Are you?"

Tony placed a hand over his chest—right over the arc reactor embedded in his body. What Pepper didn't know was that he wasn't using the Iron Man suit for mundane things anymore.

Not because of self-restraint. But because the palladium poisoning had already started. Using the suit too much meant accelerating his own death. Not that he was going to tell her that. Sooner or later, he'd find a solution. No need to worry her over something temporary.

Tony gave her a charming smile. "I would never abuse the suit for something as basic as a business trip."

Pepper narrowed her eyes. "You're lying."

Tony grinned. "I'm so not lying."

Pepper sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Tony clapped his hands. "Alright! Germany it is! Who's ready for bratwurst and business?"

Pepper rubbed her temples. "Please don't embarrass us, Tony."

Tony stood, adjusting his suit. "Potts, if you weren't constantly embarrassed by me, I wouldn't be doing my job properly."

Pepper exhaled deeply. This was going to be a long trip.

Tony pulled out his phone, dialing a number. The moment the call connected, he spoke immediately. "Happy, I need you to get the car ready. We're heading to the airport."

There was a pause.

Then—a heavy sigh. "Do I get overtime for this?"

Tony grinned. "Do I pay you?"

Happy's voice was deadpan. "Yes."

Tony snapped his fingers. "Then no. No overtime."

Happy muttered something about needing a raise before hanging up. Tony slipped his phone back into his pocket, turning to Pepper. "Alright, boss. Ready to go make insurance companies love me?"

Pepper gave him a long, tired stare.

Tony smirked. "I'll take that as a yes."

And with that, they headed out. Their private jet was waiting. Germany was waiting. And Tony Stark was, as always, up to no good.

…

As the black SUV pulled to a stop, Jack finished the last stretch of his long-winded rant.

"—and that is why you should never, ever mess with the IRS."

The moment the car doors unlocked, Alessa and her guards nearly stumbled out, looking as if they had survived a long and torturous ordeal.

Jack grinned. "Ah, fresh air. Felt like we were all suffocating in that car, huh?"

Alessa didn't reply. She simply exhaled sharply, adjusted her robes, and marched forward. "Follow me."

Jack casually strolled after her, taking in his surroundings. They were in upstate New York. The house in front of them was unsuspecting—just another quiet, old estate sitting on a large property. Jack hummed. "Real subtle. Definitely not a secret villain lair."

Alessa ignored him, leading the way inside. Once past the modest furnishings and wooden floors, she moved toward a trap door hidden beneath an old rug. Jack watched as she lifted it, revealing a set of stairs leading downward. A deep, dimly lit underground structure lay beneath.

Jack tilted his head. "You know, underground bunkers are a safety hazard if you don't have proper construction permits."

Alessa didn't respond.

Jack looked around again, nodding sagely. "Yep. Definitely an illegal structure. Unsafe. Poor ventilation. No emergency exits. If I report this, you guys are getting fined to hell and back by the Department of Buildings."

The warrior behind him shoved him forward.

Jack stumbled slightly, but caught himself, laughing. "Alright, alright. No need to be so eager. If you really wanna have sex with me in a dark, illegal bunker, just say so."

The warrior tensed in disgust.

Jack chuckled. "Fine, I'll behave. Maybe."

As they descended deeper, the air became cooler, heavier. Jack hummed a tune. Then—he started singing. "Fuck the police~"

The warriors stiffened. Jack grinned, then changed the lyrics. "Fuck a beauty, cumin' straight from the underground~"

Alessa's eye twitched. The warriors behind him looked ready to kill him. Jack smirked, continuing to hum as they walked. Finally—they arrived at a door. Alessa pushed it open.

Inside, sitting at the center of a dimly lit chamber, was Madame Gao.

Jack stepped into the room, hands in his sleeves, his expression lazy but curious.

Madame Gao studied him immediately. But her gaze wasn't ordinary. She wasn't just looking at him. She was feeling his presence, his aura.

Jack did the same. 

And for a brief moment, there was silence.

Then—Madame Gao's lips trembled. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "A… a Sage?"

Jack's grin widened. "Huh. You know about me?"

Madame Gao's fingers clenched slightly. Her voice wavered again. "A K'un-Lun Sage…"

Jack tilted his head. Then—he smirked. "Ahhh, so you know Cunt Long."

Alessa's eye twitched violently.

Madame Gao stiffened, her expression unreadable.

Jack stepped forward, circling the room slowly. "That means you're from there too, huh?" He turned, his golden gaze sharper now. "But why are you so weak?"

Madame Gao's lips pressed into a thin line.

Jack's expression shifted. His usual playfulness was gone. His voice was calm—but there was weight behind it.

"Are you a rogue disciple?"

The room grew heavier. For the first time, Madame Gao looked visibly unsettled.

Alessa glanced between them, confused.

The warriors in the room felt the shift, but none of them truly understood what was happening.

Jack waited, his gaze locked onto the old woman. And in that moment—Madame Gao knew. She wasn't dealing with an ordinary warrior. She wasn't even dealing with an ordinary Sage. She was dealing with something else entirely. And that terrified her.

Madame Gao swallowed hard. Jack's golden gaze bore into her, not with hostility, but with an undeniable presence. His words echoed in her mind. 'Are you a rogue disciple?'

For the first time in decades, she felt something she had long thought lost—Fear.

Then—Jack suddenly laughed. "KEKEKEKE—I don't care."

And just like that, the pressure vanished. Jack grinned and plopped down onto the floor, legs crossed, ignoring the chairs in the room.

Alessa furrowed her brows.

She had never seen Madame Gao react this way to anyone. And now? Her stoic, unshakable boss was sweating. Gao hesitated—then, to Alessa's shock, she followed Jack's lead, lowering herself to sit on the floor.

The warriors exchanged confused glances. One of them whispered, "Why the hell is she afraid of this guy?" Madame Gao shot them a glare so sharp it could cut steel. Then—she made a mad flurry of hand gestures, signaling the warriors to sit the hell down.

Hesitantly, they obeyed.

Jack, oblivious or uncaring, glanced around. Then, he tilted his head. "No tea?"

Madame Gao's eyes widened in realization. Then—she spun around, barking orders. "Bring the tea set! Now!"

Jack waved a hand lazily. "Never mind that. Y'know what's trendy these days? Matcha."

Gao paused. "Matcha?"

Jack nodded sagely. "Young people back in my day loved that stuff."

Madame Gao narrowed her eyes. "Back in your day?"

Jack grinned.

Madame Gao hesitated for only a second before snapping at her subordinates. "Make it matcha tea!"

The warriors scrambled. Alessa watched in sheer disbelief. Madame Gao never took orders from anyone. And yet—this guy shows up and suddenly she's bending over backwards to serve him? Who the hell was he?

As they sat in silence, one of the guards whispered to another. "Who is this fucker, and why the hell are we showing him so much respect?"

Jack heard it.

Madame Gao definitely heard it.

She sweat profusely.

Then—Jack smirked. "If you stare into the abyss, sometimes it stares back."

The room fell silent.

Jack continued, his voice calm but profound. "Other times, it tells you to do push-ups. Weird abyss."

The warriors blinked. 

Madame Gao spun toward them, eyes blazing. "DO PUSH-UPS! NOW!"

The two guards froze.

One of them stammered. "W-What?"

Madame Gao's voice snapped like a whip. "DO YOU NOT HEAR ME? DROP AND GIVE ME PUSH-UPS!"

The warriors scrambled to obey, hitting the floor and immediately pushing up and down. Jack grinned. Then, he nodded approvingly. "I like you."

He smiled and said. "You actually understood my profound wisdom."

Madame Gao exhaled in relief, giving the warriors a glare that basically screamed 'Do NOT question anything else.'

The warriors kept doing push-ups.

Jack, meanwhile, was completely relaxed. Then, a low wooden table was brought in, and the tea set was placed between him and Gao. She carefully prepared the matcha, her hands steady but her mind racing.

Jack watched with mild amusement.

She poured his tea, sliding the cup toward him.

Jack gently blew on the tea, took a slow sip, and sighed in satisfaction.

Then—he finally spoke.

"So… what do you need me for?"

Madame Gao's hand trembled slightly against the table. This was it. The true reason she had brought him here. And she knew—this next conversation would determine everything.