For two weeks, the Malibu villa had been a pressure cooker of genius. Tony buried himself in blueprints and construction updates, a particle accelerator slowly taking form under the California cliffs. Brendon split his time between Nirvana's medical initiative and his not-so-secret tinkering in Tony's lab. J.A.R.V.I.S. juggled more computation than most governments.
But they weren't alone. Not anymore.
The Playdate Joke
The villa trembled with a muffled thrum, followed by the faint smell of ozone. Upstairs, Pepper nearly spilled her coffee as the intercom crackled.
Tony (shouting): "That was Brendon!"
From below, Brendon's deadpan voice shot back without missing a beat:
Brendon: "Sure, Stark. Because I'm the one who welded a magnetron backwards while bragging about being a genius."
Tony: "It was a… creative inversion!"
Brendon: "Yeah, keep telling yourself that. One day, history books will remember the great Tony Stark — pioneer of reverse-welding mistakes."
Pepper pressed a hand to her face to hide her laugh. Across the sofa, May Parker arched a brow, trying not to grin.
"Playdates," May murmured, shaking her head.
Pepper tilted her head. "Playdates?"
May sipped her tea calmly. "What else would you call it? One man-child with too much money and trauma, one actual child who acts like he's forty. Together? They balance out."
Pepper nearly choked on her coffee, laughter spilling out. "So what do we do? Pack juice boxes? Schedule nap time?"
May's smile widened. "Only if you can get Tony to nap."
Another crash echoed from below.
Tony's voice again, indignant:
Tony: "Still Brendon's fault!"
Brendon's reply came instantly, sharp as a knife:
Brendon: "Blame-shifting — classic symptom of arrested development."
Pepper and May exchanged a glance, both laughing outright now.
May lifted her cup in a mock-toast. "See? Playdate."
Schematics in Parallel
Deep in the subterranean lab, Tony rubbed his temples while Jarvis projected the latest accelerator schematics.
J.A.R.V.I.S.: Sir, may I suggest consulting Mr. King? His perspective could improve the structural efficiency.
Tony sighed, glancing at the ceiling. "Jarvis, if I wanted a group project, I'd have stayed in MIT."
J.A.R.V.I.S.: Mr. King has already provided refinements. In fact, they are queued in my buffer.
Tony froze mid-step. "…He what?"
The hologram flickered. Brendon's voice, calm and dry, played over the intercom:
Brendon: "Took Greymatter for a spin. Your accelerator design's good, but it's bleeding energy through three inefficiencies. I optimized the magnetic lattice to minimize synchrotron radiation and replaced your palladium-lined channels with niobium-titanium composites. Also rerouted cryogenic flow for 20% less thermal loss."
Tony muttered, "Show-off."
Jarvis switched to the refined schematics. The changes were staggering: smaller footprint, higher energy yield, lower operational strain. It was the difference between a prototype and something that could quietly rival national labs.
Tony whistled low. "Kid did it again."
J.A.R.V.I.S.: Additionally, the element synthesis pathway he appended improves probability of lattice stability by 47%.
Brendon's voice chimed again, lightly smug.
Brendon: "You're welcome."
Tony jabbed a finger at the intercom. "One day I'm gonna call foul on you hijacking my toys, King."
Upstairs, Brendon's dry reply filtered back:
Brendon: "Call it security. You don't want to blow a hole in Malibu, do you?"
Tony grumbled but didn't protest. He never did when the improvements were this good.
Forging the Impossible
The day of synthesis came.
The underground chamber hummed with life. The newly optimized particle accelerator glowed faintly, superconducting magnets chilled to near absolute zero. A stream of protons circled at relativistic speeds, invisible but thunderous in presence.
Tony stood before the console, face set. "Jarvis. Fire sequence."
J.A.R.V.I.S.: Initiating particle acceleration. Beam at 99.999% of light speed. Magnetic confinement stable. Preparing collision chamber.
The holographic render filled with shimmering lattice diagrams: the impossible element Howard Stark had hidden in plain sight.
Brendon entered quietly, hands in his pockets. He didn't interfere, just leaned against the wall, eyes gleaming with the calm of someone who already knew the outcome.
Sparks danced as the first collisions detonated. Energy flared into existence, decayed, then reformed into something new.
The containment unit glowed — faint at first, then blinding. Inside, a crystalline lattice coalesced, angular and alien yet distinctly symmetrical.
J.A.R.V.I.S.: Collision successful. Element synthesized. Lattice stability confirmed. Sir, we have created a viable palladium substitute.
Tony exhaled, half in awe, half in disbelief. "We did it. Dad… you crazy bastard, we did it."
Brendon smirked faintly. "Howard would be proud."
The lattice solidified, pure and glowing. Tony gingerly lifted the containment core, sliding it into the housing of a newly constructed Arc Reactor. The device thrummed to life, glowing with a light purer than palladium ever had.
Diagnostics scrolled across Jarvis's holograms:
Output: 110% of palladium-based reactor
Thermal stability: +65%
Decay risk: negligible
Toxicity markers: none
Tony strapped it into his chest, hands trembling. The reactor locked into place, energy flaring through his body.
Purification
The effect was immediate.
Tony staggered, clutching the table. His breath caught as if a vice around his lungs had suddenly loosened. The blackened veins that spidered from his reactor pulsed once, then faded shade by shade as nanoscopic purification cascaded through his bloodstream.
J.A.R.V.I.S.: Palladium toxicity markers dropping. Chelation pathways activated. Blood oxygenation rising by 30%. Cardiac efficiency at 92% and climbing.
Tony gasped, flexing his fingers. "It's… clean. It feels clean."
The new element wasn't just powering him; it was healing him. Electrons flowed without resistance, purging palladium ions from his tissues. His body drank the energy like a starving man tasting water.
Muscle fibers twitched, then contracted stronger. Metabolic pathways ignited under the surplus energy, mitochondria running at peak. His frame, once worn thin by months of poisoning, swelled subtly with vitality. Shoulders broadened, veins thickened, reflexes sharpened.
Jarvis's readouts updated in real time:
Skeletal density: +12%
Muscular efficiency: +18%
Reaction speed: +9% baseline
Resting heart rate: stabilized at 55 bpm
Brendon observed silently, then finally spoke. "It's not just a battery anymore. It's a catalyst."
Tony looked at his arms, flexed, then glanced at the holograms. "Feels like I just hit the gym for six months in ten seconds."
J.A.R.V.I.S.: Caution: increased muscle hypertrophy and metabolic acceleration will require dietary compensation. Recommendation: elevated carbohydrate intake to match energy expenditure.
Tony blinked. "Did my AI just prescribe me pizza?"
Brendon smirked. "Carbs, Stark. Lots of them. Otherwise you're going to burn out like an engine with no fuel."
Tony laughed, a genuine, relieved sound. He slapped Brendon on the back hard enough to jolt him. "You just saved my life, kid. And apparently gave me abs while you were at it."
Brendon shrugged, deadpan. "Side effects."
The Commissioning
With his new strength buzzing through him, Tony immediately set Jarvis to work.
"Build me two more reactors," he ordered, pacing the lab. "One for the core lab, one for backup. Heavy-duty units, ready to slot into any infrastructure we need. If we're playing with god-particles, we're not doing it half-assed."
J.A.R.V.I.S.: Understood, Sir. Commissioning secondary and tertiary Arc Reactors. Estimated fabrication: 72 hours.
Brendon, still leaning against the wall, simply nodded. "Good. You'll need them sooner than you think."
Tony glanced at him, recognizing the weight behind the words. But for once, he didn't push. He had enough on his plate — and for the first time in months, the poison wasn't killing him anymore.
For the first time in months, he felt alive.
Upstairs Again
Later that night, Tony swaggered into the living room, shirt half-unbuttoned, reactor glowing clean and steady. His shoulders carried new weight — not exhaustion, but strength.
Pepper blinked. "Tony… you look…"
May finished for her, raising a brow. "Less like a patient, more like a Navy SEAL."
Tony grinned smugly, stretching. "Guess the gym and I are gonna have to renegotiate terms."
Brendon walked in behind him, expression perfectly flat. "Translation: the element gave him muscles, but not humility."
Pepper chuckled into her wineglass. "So the playdate just upgraded from juice boxes to protein shakes?"
May smirked, nodding. "Careful. If they keep this up, we're gonna have to start scheduling sparring matches instead of playdates."
Brendon sighed. "Please don't give him ideas."
Tony winked at them all. "Too late."
The room filled with laughter — the kind none of them had heard in too long.