As the trucks rolled back onto the interstate, James leaned back in his seat, eyes focused.
Hydra wasn't underestimating him anymore. They were hunting him.
And for Mindy's gift to be finished, he'd have to hunt right back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The workshop level of Stark Tower smelled faintly of ozone and scorched metal, the aftermath of too many late-night tests. Banks of monitors glowed pale blue across the walls, casting their light over piles of alloys, half-disassembled drones, and the humming silhouette of an unfinished armor frame suspended by servo arms.
James stood with his jacket draped over a stool, sleeves rolled up, posture taut from hours of work. On the central table lay the reason he had flown halfway across the country with a duffel full of contraband alloys: Stark's newest prototype schematics for a scaled-down adaptive system. The Nexus System.
The idea had started as a joke — Mindy asking for a birthday gift "something cool." What James and Stark had sketched out was anything but a toy. It was a compact rig that doubled as a collapsible baton and wearable defense system. Modular, balanced enough for a child's grip but embedded with Stark's sensor tech to guide movement, it would give Mindy an edge if she ever decided to put the mask back on. And there was more. James had insisted Anny not be left out. If the girl needed a partner, her cat could be the one. Stark had mocked the idea for ten minutes straight before grudgingly drawing up a pet harness with lightweight sensors and micro-actuators.
[Scanning note: Compact adaptive frame, vibranium-substitute plating, micro energy cell integrated. Weight tolerance optimized for juvenile users.]
James smirked faintly at [Cortana's] report. "Good. It needs to feel natural. She'll see through it if it feels too Starky of a tech shoved in her hands."
"Excuse me," Stark called from across the bay, one hand buried in a holographic projection, "there's no such thing as 'too Starky.' You're lucky I'm downsizing military-grade composites for a kid's birthday gift. Do you know how many senators would auction their votes to get a look at this?"
"I'm not giving it to the senators, nor will I allow them to even get a look at it," James said flatly. He ran a hand along the alloy casing. "Only to my sister."
That cut through Stark's banter. He looked over, expression unreadable for a beat before he returned to the projection. "Then we'll make it perfect… but I do have a question though, it's just a question, so don't get defensive about it."
"What?"
"You're not a siscon are you?" James simply gaved him a hard stare, judging him for even asking such a stupid question, especially since they are not blood related and could potentially put him in jail for being a child lover. "Alright then, forget i asked."
Hours bled away into work. James soldered microfilament contacts by hand, his old assassin's patience serving him better than any engineering class. Stark hovered over calibration, swearing at the algorithms every time the resonance drifted out of phase. [Cortana] quietly flagged errors before Stark noticed them, letting James stay two steps ahead. Between them, the room filled with the quiet harmony of two men who'd learned to build under pressure.
By dawn, the Nexus System sat complete: a matte-black baton with purple accents, no longer than a school ruler, edges trimmed with subtle ridges. At a twist, it extended smoothly to full length, internal gyros stabilizing the grip. The polymer memory alloy shimmered faintly, absorbing impact and storing kinetic energy for rapid strikes. And with a second adjustment, the baton separated into twin rods, each balanced to Mindy's reach.
Next to it sat the smallest project Stark had ever pretended not to enjoy — a soft harness of black mesh, purple edges for a matching style, and smart-fabric plating designed to fit snugly around Anny's torso. Not armor, not exactly, but enough to let the cat slip sensors through a linked band to Mindy's baton. A sidekick, wired to warn her of flanking threats, its little signal light pulsing like a heartbeat.
"You're insane to have made me do this," Stark muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Outfitting a cat. Next you'll want me to draft combat goggles for hamsters."
James only shook his head. "Mindy deserves something that makes her believe she's not alone. That matters more than the specs."
The apartment smelled of candles and fried onions when James stepped inside that night. Carlos had outdone himself with dinner, Hannah was busy finishing up the decorations, and Mindy sat cross-legged on the couch trying to look disinterested in the whole ordeal, though her bouncing foot betrayed her. Anny perched in her lap, tail flicking.
James set the long case down on the coffee table. "Happy birthday, kid."
Mindy's eyes widened as she reached for the latch. Inside, the Nexus System rested on velvet lining, the dark metal catching the lamplight. She picked it up cautiously, feeling the weight, the balance. When the baton extended with a soft snap, her jaw fell open.
"This… this is mine?"
James nodded once. "Yours. It's more than a stick. It listens, adjusts, makes you stronger if you're smart with it. But it only works if you use it right. You train, you respect it, and stay disciplined when using it. No showing off."
Mindy's face lit up in a grin that cut ten years off the scars she carried inside. "This is amazing!" She hopped to her feet and swung it experimentally, the stabilizers guiding her arc into a clean strike that cracked air more than furniture. "It feels alive."
Anny meowed in protest, batting at the motion. That was James's cue. He pulled out the smaller bundle and unrolled the harness.
"And for your partner," he said.
Mindy blinked as he slipped the harness gently over Anny. The cat tolerated it with the resigned patience of a queen suffering fools, but when the side sensor light blinked green, she froze, tail twitching. Mindy laughed, scooping her up.
"She's a superhero too!"
Carlos chuckled from the kitchen doorway. "Looks like the team's got two recruits now."
The girl spun in the middle of the room, baton in one hand, cat in the other. For a moment, she wasn't a survivor of blood and vengeance. She was just eleven, glowing with joy, her world briefly free of shadows.
James leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a ghost of a smile tugging at his face. Stark's schematics, Hydra's ambushes, the endless weight of secrecy — none of it mattered right now. The gift had landed exactly as intended.
[Emotional resonance elevated. Mission: successful.]
James murmured low enough only [Cortana] could hear. "Yeah. For once, I'll take that win."