[Third Person's PoV]
"Tony, look!!" Melissa shouted as she slid dramatically into the kitchen, nearly knocking over a stool in her excitement. Tony, who was currently giving Baymax instructions on what ingredients to prep for the DIY barbecue, turned just in time to see her burst in like a whirlwind.
She was holding up two impressive stacks of red party cups, one in each hand, arms raised high as if they were trophies. "Momo made them for me!!" she announced with pride, grinning ear to ear.
A moment later, Momo stepped into the kitchen behind her, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. "She asked so nicely," Momo said with a slight blush, "I really couldn't refuse."
Tony gave Melissa a confused look as he continued prepping skewers of meat and veggies. "Melissa… we have three 3D printers in the lab," he said, gesturing around vaguely. "We could've printed those in like, two minutes."
"But it wouldn't be the same," Melissa replied, pouting as she hugged the cups like precious heirlooms. "They're handcrafted! With love!"
Tony snorted. "Love, right. Still don't get the obsession. It's not like you're drinking actual alcohol out of them."
Melissa's playful expression dropped as she fixed him with a serious look. "Don't spike other people's drinks," she said firmly.
"Whoa," Momo interjected, glancing between the two with wide eyes. "Where did that come from? Tony wouldn't—"
She cut herself off mid-sentence when she noticed Tony looking away, lips pursed. "Wait… Tony?" Momo asked slowly. "Whose drink did you spike?!"
"Mine," Melissa answered flatly.
Momo blinked. Once. Twice. Then she turned slowly back to Tony. "You actually spiked Melissa's drink?!"
"We were going through something, okay? And 'spike' is such a harsh word," Tony grumbled. "It was more like... flavor enhancement."
"What he means to say is that he means he gave me alcohol," Melissa said in a deadpan tone.
"I didn't give her a lot!" Tony defended, throwing his hands up. "And I wouldn't give any to the others, alright? Melissa was... different."
"Different how, exactly?" Momo asked cautiously, eyeing him from head to toe. "Do I fall into the 'different' category? Are you planning to sneak booze into my drink too?"
Tony looked taken aback by the accusation, maybe even offended. "What?! No! You're way too innocent. My conscience would crush me if I even considered it."
Melissa raised an eyebrow. "Wow. And where exactly was that conscience when you went and gave me some?"
Tony glanced toward the hallway. "Would you look at that? Someone's at the door."
He made a hasty exit as Melissa's eyes twitched with silent frustration.
At the front door, Tony wasn't surprised to see Denki and Jiro already waiting. Behind them stood Sero, Kirishima, and to his surprise, Bakugo—arms crossed and already scowling like the world had wronged him.
Tony let them in with a nod, but his gaze lingered on Bakugo a little too long.
Bakugo snapped. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU STARING AT?!"
Tony raised an eyebrow. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I WAS INVITED, WASN'T I?!" Bakugo snarled, already regretting the decision to come. Then, with a smug sneer, he added, "Plus, I get to rub it in your poser face that I'm the one who took down the number two hero—you did jack!"
"You really need to work on that charming personality, dude," Denki said, slinging an arm over Bakugo's shoulders. "How do you expect to ever get a girlfriend with that attitude?"
Bakugo scoffed, brushing him off. "This is why you extras will always be extras."
"Who's to say Bakugo even wants a girlfriend?" Tony said casually as they all made their way into the living room, Jiro already joining Momo and Melissa near the snack table.
"Exactly—" Bakugo began.
"It's obvious he's into dudes," Tony cut in smoothly.
Jiro, mid-sip from a red cup Melissa had just handed her, nearly choked.
The rest of the boys burst into laughter.
"I'LL KILL YOU, YOU DAMN NERD!" Bakugo roared, charging forward with explosions sparking in his palms—but Denki, Kirishima, and Sero were already bracing for it and held him back.
Tony laughed, walking off toward the door just as the doorbell rang again.
Opening it, he found Midoriya standing there with Mina, Tokoyami, and Sato. Mina was already throwing up rock 'n' roll signs as she stepped forward.
"Worry not, Tony!" she declared. "The life of the party has arrived to save the day!"
"You guys are just in time," Tony smirked, thumbing over his shoulder. "We were helping Bakugo come to terms with his sexuality."
"K-Kacchan?!" Midoriya stammered, eyes wide.
"YOU MOTHER—!" Bakugo bellowed, thrashing again as Denki and Kirishima held on for dear life. A small explosion popped off in his palm like a firecracker.
Mina chuckled as she stepped inside. "Now this is starting to feel like a real party."
As everyone trickled in, laughter, chatter, and music filled the house. The living room buzzed with energy, and it wasn't long before the place was packed with students, each mingling, snacking, or teasing someone.
…
However, elsewhere, forces moved in secret—silent, calculated, and unrelenting. All for the sake of one man. All for the sake of Tony Stark.
Far from civilization, hidden beyond the radar of global surveillance and far removed from the eyes of the public stood an offshore factory. The facility was protected by a dense field of electromagnetic interference, rendering it invisible to satellites or drones.
Inside, an assembly line spanned the massive factory. Rows upon rows of humanoid robots stood still, their identical silver chassis reflecting the dim lighting. Each one bore a signature design—sleek, cold, and inhuman—with glowing red sensors in place of eyes. Hundreds lined up in formation, like an army awaiting a command.
Above them, conveyor belts transported newly forged robot parts. Welding arms danced with sparks, joining limbs to torsos with mechanical precision. The belts fed the production floor continuously, growing the army by the minute.
Lurking deeper within the facility stood a larger construct—immense in stature and intimidating in design. Its crimson lights pulsed ominously across its frame, illuminating its menacing silhouette. Unlike the mass-produced sentries, this one was unique—an advanced prototype, a commander among pawns.
And he wasn't alone.
In front of the massive machine stood three figures—each dangerous in their own right. At the center was Ultron, his metal body gleaming like polished steel, his red eyes glowing with cold intelligence. To his right stood The Doctor, his posture rigid, expression unreadable. On his left, silent and eerily calm, was Saiki, his gaze fixed on the developing army before them.
"The time is fast approaching," the Doctor said, his voice low as he glanced up at Ultron. "I trust your plan will proceed without deviation."
Ultron's head turned slowly toward him, his voice emerging as a distorted rasp laced with arrogance. "Are you questioning my competence, Doctor? I thought I'd already demonstrated my superiority when I aided in creating a new vessel for your Master."
The Doctor's eyes simply narrowed. "It's not a matter of capability. Everything needs to be perfect for his rise."
"You worry too much," Ultron replied, thinking that if he had eyes at the moment he would be rolling them. He stepped forward with calculated grace. "The plan is already in motion. Every outcome accounted for. Every failure predicted and countered."
He turned to face the army below, his voice growing louder—more grandiose.
"Stark is the first domino. Once he falls, the rest will follow. He may hide behind his armor, his technology, his ego… but at the end of the day, he is only human. Flesh. Bone. Weakness, he can be manipulated, outwitted."
Ultron paused, his eyes glowing brighter as he concluded, "And once that weakness is exploited, once his heart is broken and his hope extinguished, Tony Stark will collapse in on himself. His ruin will be by his own hands… and from the ashes, a new age will rise."
He raised a metallic arm, gesturing to the army behind him.
"An age of order. An age of progress. An age of Ultron"
Red light flooded the factory as the machines activated in perfect synchronization. The sound of hundreds of robotic limbs moving in unison echoed like thunder.
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