Judgment of the Endless (MarvelxDC)

"Jarvis, hit it."

The command echoed through the stark, sterile lab, filled with the hum of machinery and the occasional spark of metal against metal.

Tony Stark stood, his arms crossed, eyes focused on the massive holographic display in front of him. Around him, various pieces of armor were suspended in mid-air, rotating slowly as the blueprints and designs flickered across the screen.

This wasn't just any suit; this was the Iron Man suit, a creation born out of necessity after Seraphis had made his dramatic appearance.

The room was a mess of wires, circuits, and half-assembled tech. Tools were scattered across every available surface, and several drones hovered nearby, ready to assist or repair as needed. It was chaos—Tony's kind of chaos.

"Running the simulation now, sir," Jarvis responded smoothly, his voice calm amidst the noise of the lab.

Tony grinned, his eyes lighting up with that familiar spark of genius. "Let's see what this baby can do."

The hologram flashed, and suddenly, the pieces of the suit began to snap together. Metal plates collided with a satisfying clank, connecting with a fluid precision that only Tony's engineering could achieve.

The reactor core in the chest of the suit began to glow a bright blue, and the eyes of the helmet lit up as it powered on.

"Alright, Jarvis, run diagnostics," Tony ordered, pacing around the projection.

"Diagnostics online," Jarvis responded. "Power levels are stable, mobility checks out, and all weapon systems are fully operational.

However, I must advise caution, sir. This design appears to be slightly… overpowered."

"Overpowered?" Tony smirked. "That's like saying the ocean is slightly wet. Let's push it to the max."

"Sir, I'm detecting a significant increase in heat levels as the power output exceeds expected parameters," Jarvis noted, his tone ever-so-slightly concerned.

"Don't worry, I'll cool it down with my sheer charisma," Tony quipped, tapping a few controls to increase the power output further. "Let's see if we can blow a hole in that wall over there."

"Sir, that's a structural—"

Too late. Tony had already activated the repulsor blast, sending a concentrated beam of energy straight into the far wall.

The impact was instantaneous and dramatic—bits of debris flew everywhere as the blast obliterated the metal panelling, sending it crashing to the floor with a thunderous bang.

Tony stared at the gaping hole, blinking. "Whoops."

"Sir, the wall was reinforced with a tungsten carbide alloy,"1 Jarvis pointed out with a hint of dry humour. "I believe your definition of 'overpowered' might need revisiting."

Tony ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "What can I say? I like my toys with a bit of a kick. Alright, let's scale it back by about… fifteen percent. Or maybe twenty. We'll save the full blast for when I need to disintegrate a mountain or something."

"Wise decision, sir," Jarvis replied, as the power levels on the suit began to stabilize.

Tony took a moment to survey the rest of his lab. It was a mess, but it was his mess, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

He walked over to one of the consoles, tapping a few buttons to bring up another screen—this one filled with lines of code, flashing by at lightning speed.

"Speaking of which," Tony said, leaning in closer, "how's the progress on decoding that little gift my old man left me? You know, the one with the shiny new element that could blow this reactor through the roof?"

"Decoding is approximately seventy-five percent complete, sir," Jarvis informed him.

"The remaining data is proving somewhat resistant to our current methods, but I expect full decryption within the next seventy-two hours."

"Of course it's resistant," Tony muttered, rubbing his temples. "Dad never made anything easy. It's like he enjoyed setting traps for me to stumble into decades after he's gone. But hey, that's what makes life interesting, right?"

"Indeed, sir," Jarvis replied with perfect British politeness. "Would you like me to prioritize the decryption process?"

"Nah, let's keep it running in the background. I've got bigger fish to fry—like making sure this suit doesn't fry me."

Tony moved over to another workbench, this one cluttered with smaller components, wires, and a half-empty cup of coffee that looked like it had been there for days. He picked up a small circular device, about the size of a coin, and examined it closely.

"This little guy," Tony began, almost to himself, "is the key to the whole thing. It's a new repulsor tech I've been working on. Should cut down the recharge time between blasts by at least twenty percent. Maybe even more, if I can get the cooling system to cooperate."

"Sir, I must caution you," Jarvis interjected, "that modifying the cooling system might result in—"

"Spontaneous combustion? Uncontrolled explosions? Imminent death?" Tony grinned. "Yeah, I'm aware. But where's the fun in playing it safe, Jarvis? We're talking about the Iron Man suit here. This thing needs to be the absolute best, or it's not worth the metal it's made of."

As if on cue, the lab door slid open with a soft hiss, and Pepper Potts stepped inside, her expression a mix of exasperation and affection. She took one look at the state of the lab—the debris, the scattered tools, the hole in the wall—and sighed.

"Tony," she began, her tone that of someone who's used to cleaning up the same messes over and over, "what did I tell you about blowing holes in the lab?"

Tony turned to her, a sheepish smile on his face. "That it's an excellent stress reliever?"

"That it's a safety hazard and a liability," Pepper corrected, crossing her arms. "Seriously, how do you expect me to manage the damage control if you keep blowing things up down here?"

Tony shrugged, setting down the repulsor device. "Hey, I'm just trying to make sure we're ready for whatever comes next. You know, after Seraphis, I figured I needed to up my game."

"Up your game?" Pepper raised an eyebrow, glancing at the Iron Man suit that was still hovering in mid-air. "Tony, you've been practically living in this lab for weeks. When's the last time you took a break? Or ate something that wasn't a cup of coffee?"

Tony waved her concern off with a dismissive hand. "I'm fine, Pep. Just a few more tweaks and this suit will be ready for prime time. Besides, with the UN breathing down my neck about this whole 'save the world' business, I've got to stay ahead of the curve."

"Speaking of which," Pepper said, taking a seat on one of the less cluttered workbenches, "the UN has been very persistent about getting your help. They want you to develop something that can protect them—us—when that countdown reaches zero. They're talking about global defenses, new weapons, anything that might give us an edge."

Tony frowned, leaning against the console. "I know, and trust me, I'm working on it. But they need to understand that this isn't just about building a bigger gun. It's about being smarter, faster, more adaptable. That's what the Iron Man suit is all about. It's not just armor—it's innovation. And that's what's going to save us."

Pepper looked at him, her expression softening. "I know, Tony. And I believe in you. But you can't do this alone. You have to remember that there are other people who can help—other heroes, other minds. You're not the only one carrying this weight."

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know. But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you can't rely on anyone else to do the work for you. I have to be ready, Pepper. I have to be the one who's prepared for anything."

Pepper stood up, moving closer to him. "And you will be. But don't burn yourself out in the process. You're not much good to anyone if you're running on fumes."

Tony gave her a small smile, reaching out to take her hand. "You always know what to say, don't you?"

"It's part of the job," she replied with a wink. "Now, how about you take a break from saving the world and join me for dinner? You've earned it."

Tony hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the suit, the schematics, and the unfinished projects scattered around the lab. But then he nodded, a spark of warmth in his eyes. "Alright, you win. But just dinner—then it's back to work."

Pepper smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Deal. And maybe after dinner, we can talk about how we're going to handle that UN request. Stark Industries has a lot to offer, and we need to make sure we're leading the charge in the right way."

Tony nodded, his mind already shifting gears. "Yeah, we'll figure it out. But first—food."

As they turned to leave the lab, Jarvis' voice chimed in. "Sir, shall I continue running the simulations in your absence?"

Tony paused, glancing back at the holographic display. "Yeah, go ahead, Jarvis. And keep me updated on that decoding. If my dad left me a new element, I want to know exactly what I'm working with.

==

=

A year had passed since the world changed forever with the appearance of Seraphis. The ominous countdown in the sky served as a constant reminder of an uncertain future. Life in New York City continued on, but there was an underlying tension that everyone could feel. Even with the hustle and bustle of the city, the weight of that celestial clock ticked away in the back of everyone's mind.

For Peter Parker, life had become a delicate balancing act between his responsibilities as a high school student and his duties as Spider-Man. The daily grind of classes, homework, and the occasional pop quiz was tough enough, but add in patrolling the city, stopping petty crimes, and dealing with the occasional supervillain? It was a lot for anyone, let alone a teenager.

Still, Peter managed to keep it together, somehow. He'd wake up early every morning in his small Queens apartment, slipping into his suit before heading out for a quick patrol. The city was quieter than it used to be. The appearance of Seraphis had forced many of the more daring criminals to go underground, leaving Spider-Man to deal mostly with the usual thugs and small-time crooks.

It wasn't glamorous, but it was important. The people of New York needed someone to look up to, someone who reminded them that not all heroes wore capes—some of them wore masks and did their best with what they had.

Peter swung through the city, the early morning light casting long shadows across the skyscrapers. The air was crisp, and the sounds of the city waking up filled his ears. It was his favorite time of day—a time when the world felt fresh, and the possibilities seemed endless. As he landed on a rooftop, he took a moment to catch his breath, looking out over the city he loved so much.

"Another day, another dollar," he muttered to himself, adjusting his mask. "Or, you know, another day of getting by without any dollars."

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and Peter quickly pulled it out, glancing at the screen. A text from Aunt May reminding him to pick up groceries after school. He smiled, tucking the phone back into his suit before swinging off to his next destination.

School was… school. The same old routine. He navigated the crowded hallways of Midtown High, nodding to familiar faces and trying to avoid eye contact with Flash Thompson, who never missed an opportunity to give him a hard time. Classes were a blur of lectures, notes, and the occasional whispered conversation with Ned Leeds, his best friend and confidant.

But even in the classroom, Peter's mind was always elsewhere. He couldn't help but think about the countdown in the sky, the threats that might come, and the responsibility he felt to be ready. He knew he wasn't the only hero in the world, but sometimes, it felt like it all rested on his shoulders. After all, with great power…

"...comes great responsibility," Peter whispered to himself as he scribbled down notes during history class.

Lunch was a brief reprieve—a time to sit with Ned and MJ, joking about the latest memes and trying to ignore the underlying tension that had become a part of daily life. They all knew the world had changed, but they were still kids, trying to hold on to some semblance of normalcy.

"Did you finish that chemistry homework?" Ned asked between bites of his sandwich.

Peter nodded, swallowing a mouthful of cafeteria pizza. "Yeah, last night. How about you?"

"Barely," Ned admitted, glancing around the cafeteria. "Man, I can't believe it's been a year since… you know."

Peter followed Ned's gaze to the large windows that overlooked the school's courtyard. The sky beyond was clear, blue, and peaceful—almost deceptively so.

"Yeah," Peter replied, his voice quiet. "Feels like yesterday."

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and Peter packed up his things, ready to dive back into the world of textbooks and lectures. But even as he walked through the halls, his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't shake the feeling that something big was coming—that the countdown wasn't just a reminder, but a warning.

After school, Peter slipped out of the building, heading straight for an alleyway where he could change into his suit. The moment he pulled on the mask, he felt a sense of relief—like he was finally able to be his true self. Spider-Man was who he was meant to be, and the city was his responsibility.

He spent the afternoon swinging through the city, stopping a few muggings, helping an old lady find her lost cat, and even stopping by a bodega to grab a sandwich for dinner. It was a typical day for him, filled with the usual mix of heroics and mundane tasks. But even as he went about his day, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

It wasn't until the sun began to set that Peter decided to call it a day. He found a quiet rooftop near Times Square, sitting down to enjoy his sandwich while watching the city lights flicker on one by one. The evening was cool, and for a moment, he allowed himself to relax, to forget about the countdown and the responsibilities that came with being Spider-Man.

That was when his phone buzzed again. Peter sighed, pulling it out to check the notification. It was a new video that had just popped up—something that had already started to trend.

Curiosity piqued, Peter tapped on the notification, the video loading quickly. His eyes widened as the screen filled with the image of a tall, young man with long, flowing white hair. The figure was striking, almost otherworldly, and there was something about him that immediately set Peter on edge.