Chapter 9: The Bonnie and Clyde Duo
Tony Stark was never the type to be quiet for long. Even when explaining something deadly serious, the man could turn it into a performance.
"It's simple, kid," Tony said, cutting off his holographic demo mid-projection. He set his glass down with a deliberate clink and looked at Ethan with an expression that didn't usually accompany a designer polo shirt and socks that probably cost more than Ethan's monthly rent. "I realized it after the Battle of New York. We're too passive compared to other civilizations—we've got no real protection."
Ethan leaned back on the couch, trying to keep up. "You mean… we don't have the capability to stop attacks from outside Earth?"
It sounded weird when you said it out loud, like you were admitting you didn't have a front door. Except in this case, the intruders didn't knock—they dropped a glowing hole in the sky, wrecked half of Manhattan, and left behind alien tech so advanced that Earth scientists couldn't even figure out which side was "up" without accidentally vaporizing something.
"Exactly," Tony said, swirling his wine. "So we need a force that can resist. A defense team. And that includes you." He gestured with his glass before leaning back in his chair. "Of course, not the current you. Hiring child labor is illegal, and I'm a law-abiding citizen."
Ethan stared at him. Law-abiding citizen? Buddy, you break FAA regulations every time you take a coffee run in that suit.
"So," Ethan said carefully, "you're basically saying you want to train me up as… a potential Avenger?"
"Potential?" Tony's lips curled. "No. Reserve. You'll still go on the field when necessary. You've already proven you can handle yourself."
He flicked his fingers at the holographic table, and suddenly, Ethan was watching third-person security footage of himself from the Battle of New York. A scrawny teenager in ripped clothes and, God help him, bright pink pants, was tearing through Chitauri foot soldiers like he had something to prove.
Ethan blinked. "…Who is that? Is that—me?"
"Yup," Tony said, clearly enjoying this. "That's you. The boy in pink pants going full Rampage Mode."
Ethan groaned. "I'm never living that down, am I?"
"Nope." Tony tapped a few more commands, and another display lit up. "Speaking of which, what color do you want for your armor? Oh, and you're living here now."
"What?" Ethan sat up. "Wait, seriously—"
"Jarvis, give him clearance."
"Authorization complete, sir," the AI replied smoothly.
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh… I guess black and white? Keep it simple." He was still processing. "But—hold on—what about school?"
Tony didn't even look up from his tablet. "Just take the jet."
"…You're suggesting I fly to school?" Ethan's brain tried to compute that. His Twitter followers were going to lose their minds. Great, I'm gonna trend for something stupid like "#JetToChemClass."
"Mr. Miles, your armor's paint job is ready," Jarvis announced, displaying a full 3D render. The plating followed Stark's signature sleek lines, but the chest's arc reactor was stylized into a glowing black-and-white Tai Chi symbol. Ethan couldn't help but grin.
"Oh, and Mr. Stark would like you to test it in the inner lab," Jarvis added.
Which instantly lit up Ethan's brain like Christmas morning. Every boy dreams of piloting a Gundam at least once in his life. This wasn't exactly a giant mech, but it was as close as he was ever going to get without a billion-dollar R&D budget. Okay, yeah, maybe school can wait.
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Meanwhile, across the country, someone else was also making questionable life choices.
Benny sat in the driver's seat of a beat-up sedan parked outside a small-town bank. The alien energy gun in his lap felt heavier than it should. He'd finally managed to unlock the thing after weeks of tinkering—mostly by accident—only to have every legitimate lab and buyer reject him.
"You sure about this, Claire?" he asked, voice low.
Claire, sitting beside him, didn't even look up from adjusting her hair. "Don't start, Benny. I'm already disappointed enough."
He flinched.
"You've got talent," she continued, "but talent doesn't pay rent. You want to keep pretending it will, be my guest, but I'm done waiting."
Benny hesitated. "We could get caught. Or shot. Or both."
Claire finally turned to him, eyes bright with something that wasn't entirely sanity. "You told me we deserve a better life. Well, here's our chance. Heaven just handed us the key." She gestured at the weapon. "I don't want to sit around envying people with better cars and nicer bags. I want to take it."
Her words were like lighter fluid to his nerves.
"Alright," Benny said finally. "But we don't hurt anyone."
She smiled—soft, almost sweet—and kissed him. That was all it took.
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Two minutes later, Benny kicked the bank's front door open, mask on, weapon raised. He fired at an empty teller counter, the alien blast sending wood chips and paperwork flying in a concussive burst.
"Boom! Everyone down!" he yelled, his voice cracking slightly.
Claire was already vaulting over the counter, stuffing cash into a duffel bag.
Benny spotted an old man who'd fallen in the chaos and rushed over to help him up. "You okay? Go, get out!"
And that was how their spree began. One robbery turned into two. Two became five. The alien weapon made vault locks irrelevant—one shot and they were open.
Within a week, news outlets had dubbed them The Bonnie and Clyde Duo, plastering blurry CCTV stills across headlines.
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At the S.H.I.E.L.D. Alien Weapon Detection and Recovery Department, the footage played on a loop.
A gray-haired agent slammed his palm onto the table. "It's a small case, but it involves alien tech. Higher-ups want it recovered and the suspects neutralized."
From the corner, a bald-headed Sitwell sipped his coffee. "While you were collecting those videos, I tracked a Pearson boat in Key West sold for cash to a couple matching their description."
The other agent frowned. "…Guess we're both taking this a little lightly."
"It's fine. I'll handle it," Sitwell said casually.
The gray-haired agent handed him a file. "Orders from above. Recover the weapon, deal with the criminals. Don't make it messy."
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California, Stark's Free City lab.
"Hey, Miles," Tony said, practically bouncing as he walked in. "Want to field test your armor? We've been fine-tuning it for two days."
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "You found a new terrorist cell?"
"Oh no," Tony said with a smirk, "this is way more fun."
He tapped the table, and the footage of Benny and Claire's latest robbery appeared, paused mid-blast.
Ethan raised a brow. "…Please tell me you're not about to suggest I chase down a cosplay version of Bonnie and Clyde with alien hardware."
Tony grinned. "Bingo."
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