Haki user in Marvel

The workshop hummed with life, its many displays, tools, and gadgets all scattered in organized chaos. Tony Stark leaned over the frame of the Mark III armor, his face smeared with a streak of grease. Holographic blueprints floated beside him, constantly shifting as he made adjustments. Nearby, Alexander stood with his arms crossed, watching Stark tinker.

"You're obsessed," Alexander said finally, breaking the silence.

Tony snorted without looking up. "Obsessed? No. Dedicated? Absolutely. I'm fine-tuning a game-changer here, Alex. Do you know what happens when I get obsessed? I invent something like self-flipping pancakes or a flamethrower guitar. This is different."

Alexander rolled his eyes. "And yet you're still ignoring the most important thing: balance."

"Balance?" Tony straightened and turned, looking at him with mock confusion. "What does balance have to do with anything? This is armor, not yoga."

"It's everything," Alexander replied, walking closer. "You're building a weapon, sure, but the armor needs to work with you, not against you. Without balance, your flight systems will throw you off-course, your strikes will lose power, and you'll be a shiny target rather than a fighter."

Tony stared at him for a long moment before throwing up his hands. "Fine, fine. Enlighten me, oh wise one. How do I 'balance' a flying suit of armor?"

Alexander stepped closer to the table, his eyes scanning the holograms. "First, let's talk about your propulsion system. Your thrusters are powerful, but they're too rigid. You need more fluidity in your movement to stay stable midair."

Tony squinted at him. "You're saying my suit needs to dance?"

"Something like that," Alexander said, smirking. "Think about how birds adjust their wings in real time. Your armor should react to you, not make you compensate for its limitations."

Tony blinked, then turned back to the holograms, muttering to himself. "Fluid propulsion… real-time wing adjustment… alright, that's actually brilliant. I hate that you're right."

Alexander chuckled. "Get used to it."

Pepper Steps In

The sound of heels clicking on the floor announced Pepper Potts' arrival. She walked into the workshop carrying a folder, her expression half-amused, half-exasperated.

"I see you two are bonding," she said, glancing between Tony and Alexander.

"Bonding's a strong word," Tony replied without looking up. "I'd call it tolerating each other while he tries to micromanage my genius."

Alexander raised an eyebrow. "Micromanage? I'm the reason your armor isn't going to spin you into a wall during your next test flight."

Pepper shook her head, suppressing a smile. "Whatever you're doing, keep it up. But, Tony, I do need a moment of your time. Obadiah called earlier, and he's getting suspicious about your 'sudden change in focus.'"

Tony waved her off. "Tell him I'm working on a top-secret project that he doesn't need to know about. Use big words. He hates that."

Pepper frowned. "Tony, this is serious. He's asking questions about what happened in Afghanistan."

Alexander, who had been leaning against the table, straightened at the mention of Obadiah Stane. He'd read enough about the MCU to know that name carried danger.

"Stark," Alexander said carefully, "you might want to start thinking about how to deal with him. Stane isn't just curious—he's calculating. And he's not going to like being left out of the loop."

Tony glanced at Alexander, his expression guarded. "I'll handle Obadiah. He's family—or as close to it as I've got. He might be a pain, but he wouldn't hurt me."

Alexander's jaw tightened, but he didn't push the issue. He knew what was coming, but Tony had to see it for himself.

The First Flight

Hours later, the Mark III armor stood gleaming on its display stand, a testament to Tony's genius. Alexander circled it slowly, inspecting every detail.

"You sure it's ready?" Alexander asked.

Tony grinned, slipping into the suit. "There's only one way to find out."

Alexander stepped back as the armor sealed around Tony with a satisfying hiss. The displays in the room dimmed slightly as the suit powered on, its arc reactor glowing a steady blue.

"Jarvis," Tony said, his voice amplified through the suit's speakers. "Diagnostics?"

"Diagnostics complete, sir," the AI replied smoothly. "All systems are functional. Shall we begin?"

"Let's do it," Tony said.

Alexander crossed his arms. "Remember what I said about balance. If you go full throttle without control, you'll—"

Before Alexander could finish, Tony launched himself into the air. The thrusters roared to life, and Tony shot straight up… only to veer wildly to the side and crash into a support beam.

Alexander sighed. "That."

"Minor adjustment!" Tony shouted, pulling himself upright as sparks flew from one of the gauntlets.

Despite the rocky start, Tony quickly adapted. He flew in loops around the workshop, dodging obstacles and testing the repulsors. Alexander watched with a mix of amusement and admiration as Stark's natural instincts kicked in.

"Not bad," Alexander admitted.

"Not bad?" Tony repeated, hovering midair. "That's the understatement of the century. I'm killing it up here!"

"Try not to actually kill yourself," Alexander said dryly.

Tony attempted a sharp turn but miscalculated, crashing into a stack of equipment. He groaned as he pushed himself up, the armor sparking again.

"Okay, maybe I'm just mostly killing it," Tony muttered.

Reflections and Rivalries

After the flight test, Tony stepped out of the armor, sweat dripping down his face. He flopped onto a nearby chair, exhausted but exhilarated.

"Not bad for a first run," Alexander said, handing him a bottle of water.

Tony took a long drink before replying. "Not bad? Alex, I just built a flying suit of armor. I'm basically the coolest person alive."

Alexander chuckled. "I'll give you that. But don't get too comfortable. The real test isn't just building the armor—it's how you use it."

Tony nodded, his expression growing more serious. "You've been saying that a lot. What exactly are you expecting me to use it for?"

Alexander hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Let's just say the world isn't as simple as you think it is. There are threats out there—threats that make terrorists look like playground bullies. You're building something incredible, but you're going to need more than just a suit to face what's coming."

Tony studied him for a moment, then leaned back with a smirk. "You talk like you've seen it all. What are you, some kind of interdimensional Boy Scout?"

Alexander's expression darkened briefly, but he forced a smile. "Something like that."

The Calm Before the Storm

As the evening wore on, Tony returned to tinkering with the armor while Alexander leaned against a nearby wall, lost in thought. Pepper had left hours ago after another round of voicing her concerns about Obadiah.

"Stark," Alexander said suddenly.

Tony glanced up. "Yeah?"

"Don't trust Stane," Alexander said, his voice low. "He's not what he seems."

Tony frowned. "You've been hinting at that since the gym. Why? What do you know?"

Alexander met Tony's gaze, his expression unreadable. "Just trust me on this. Keep an eye on him."

Tony hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Alright. But if you're wrong, you owe me an apology."

Alexander smirked faintly. "If I'm wrong, I'll build the next suit myself."

They both knew there was no chance of that.

The sound of distant jazz music filled the main lounge of Stark Industries' headquarters. Tony stood behind the bar, pouring himself a drink while Alexander sat on a nearby couch, casually flipping through a magazine he had picked up from the coffee table.

"Whiskey?" Tony asked, holding up the bottle.

"Pass," Alexander replied, not looking up. "Someone's gotta keep a clear head around here."

Tony scoffed but poured himself a glass, leaning against the bar. "You know, for someone who keeps telling me to lighten up, you're not exactly a poster child for fun."

"Call it experience," Alexander said, his voice calm. "I've seen what happens when people let their guard down too much."

Before Tony could respond, the door to the lounge opened, and in walked Obadiah Stane. His polished demeanor and affable smile seemed at odds with the tension that immediately filled the room.

"Tony!" Stane called, his arms outstretched. "There you are. You've been dodging me all week."

Tony's smile was thin, his usual sarcasm laced with subtle irritation. "Not dodging, Obie. Just… busy revolutionizing technology. You know how it is."

Stane chuckled, walking over to the bar. He poured himself a drink without asking, his movements deliberate and confident. "Of course, of course. You've always got your head in the clouds, don't you?"

Alexander watched the exchange from his seat, his sharp eyes flicking between the two men. He noticed the way Tony's shoulders tensed slightly, the faint edge in Stane's tone beneath the friendly façade.

"What brings you here, Obie?" Tony asked, his voice casual but guarded.

Stane sipped his drink, setting the glass down with a deliberate clink. "Just checking in. You've been... quiet lately. The board's a little concerned about your new direction."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Concerned? About what?"

"Oh, you know, the whole 'no more weapons' thing," Stane said, waving a hand dismissively. "It's a bold move, Tony. A little too bold, if you ask me. The shareholders aren't exactly thrilled about the sudden shift."

Tony leaned against the bar, crossing his arms. "Well, Obie, maybe they should try seeing the bigger picture. We've made enough weapons to last a lifetime. It's time Stark Industries did something better."

Stane's smile faltered for a fraction of a second before returning. "I get it, Tony. I really do. But you can't just pull the rug out from under everyone overnight. These things take time. Planning. You can't let your... emotions get in the way of business."

"Emotions?" Tony repeated, his voice growing colder. "You think this is about emotions? Obie, I spent three months in a cave watching my own weapons kill innocent people. I think that gives me the right to change course."

Alexander stood up, his presence shifting the room's dynamic. "Seems like Stark's made up his mind," he said, his voice cutting through the tension. "Maybe it's time the board got on board."

Stane glanced at Alexander, his expression briefly unreadable. "And you are?"

"Alex," Tony said quickly. "A consultant. Helping me stay focused."

Stane's eyes narrowed slightly, but his smile remained intact. "Well, Alex, I hope you're helping Tony see reason. It's easy to get caught up in idealism, but the real world runs on profit margins and supply chains. Stark Industries doesn't stay on top by playing it safe."

"Maybe playing it safe is why the company's been stuck doing the same thing for decades," Alexander replied, his tone even but firm.

The tension in the room thickened, but Tony cut through it with a chuckle. "Don't worry, Obie. I've got everything under control. The company's not going under anytime soon."

Stane finished his drink, setting the glass down with a faint thud. "I hope so, Tony. For everyone's sake."

He clapped Tony on the shoulder, his smile as charming as ever, and walked out of the lounge without another word.

Reflections After Stane Leaves

The door closed, and the silence that followed felt heavier than before. Tony downed the rest of his drink in one gulp, setting the glass down harder than necessary.

"Don't trust him," Alexander said quietly, breaking the silence.

Tony turned to him, his expression guarded. "He's been with this company since before I was born. He's family, Alex."

Alexander shook his head. "He's not family. He's a businessman. And right now, you're a threat to his way of doing things."

Tony paced behind the bar, running a hand through his hair. "I know Obie. He talks big, but he wouldn't hurt me. He's just... stuck in his ways."

Alexander stepped closer, his tone softening. "Maybe. But you've changed, Stark. You're not the same man who walked into that cave. And people like Stane? They don't like change unless they control it."

Tony stared at Alexander for a long moment, then sighed. "Alright, let's say you're right. What do I do?"

"Keep your guard up," Alexander said simply. "Don't give him any leverage. And when the time comes, be ready to fight."

Tony let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "You make it sound like we're heading into a war."

Alexander's expression didn't change. "You are. You just don't know it yet."

Setting the Stage

That night, Tony returned to the workshop, his mind racing with a mixture of frustration and determination. He tinkered with the Mark III suit, his movements sharper and more purposeful than usual.

Alexander watched from the corner of the room, arms crossed. "You're angry," he said.

Tony didn't look up. "Angry doesn't even begin to cover it."

"Good," Alexander said. "Use it. But don't let it cloud your judgment."

Tony paused, glancing over at him. "You've been in fights like this before, haven't you? Not just the physical ones."

Alexander nodded slowly. "Yeah. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that the people closest to you are sometimes the most dangerous."

Tony's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned back to the suit, his hands steady as he worked.

For the first time, Alexander saw the true spark of Iron Man—not just the genius inventor, but the man determined to forge a new path, no matter the cost.