Chapter 3: The Kid Named Adama
The first few years of Adama Stiels' life were, as expected, a blur of luxurious chaos. The Stark Mansion wasn't just a house; it was a fortress of eccentricity, a playground of technological marvels, and, occasionally, a testing ground for Tony's latest, slightly unstable inventions. Adama, now officially named Adama, a name Pepper had insisted on, felt his old consciousness slowly, seamlessly merge with his new, infant mind. It wasn't a jarring transition, but a gradual blending, like two rivers flowing into one. He retained his memories, his sarcasm, his encyclopedic knowledge of the MCU, but they were now filtered through the innocent wonder and developing emotions of a child.
His twin sister, Morgan, was a constant, delightful presence. From the moment they were tiny, squalling bundles, there was an unspoken bond between them. She was a whirlwind of curiosity, a miniature version of their father's insatiable intellect, but tempered with Pepper's grounded warmth. They shared a crib, then a playroom, and eventually, a secret language of giggles and knowing glances that only twins could truly understand.
Tony, as a father, was exactly as Adam had imagined: doting, overprotective, and utterly incapable of not turning every single parenting moment into an opportunity for a scientific experiment or a sarcastic monologue.
"Adama, my little genius, are you sure that's enough pureed organic kale? We can't have your developing brain cells lacking in vital nutrients. Besides, think of the carbon footprint of all those uneaten vegetables. We're practically saving the planet, one spoonful at a time."
Pepper, bless her heart, was the anchor. She navigated Tony's eccentricities with a calm grace that Adama deeply admired. She was the one who ensured they ate actual food, got proper sleep, and didn't accidentally trigger any of Tony's laser grids while playing hide-and-seek.
Adama, for his part, played the role of the precocious child perfectly. He learned to walk, to talk, to mimic the world around him, all while his inner monologue was a constant stream of dry observations and strategic planning. He kept his past life, and the System, a closely guarded secret. It wasn't out of fear, but a deep-seated instinct that this was his unique advantage, a trump card he wouldn't reveal until the time was right.
The System, meanwhile, remained a silent, ever-present hum. He couldn't actively access its menus or ask questions yet. It was like a powerful, dormant app on a phone that hadn't quite finished booting up. But he could feel its potential, a vast reservoir of luck waiting to be tapped. He knew the Permanent Luck Point he'd gained at birth was there, a silent guardian against unforeseen catastrophes.
His true secret, however, lay in the Coat of the Ascended. It wasn't a physical coat he wore around the mansion, but an ethereal artifact, a part of his very being now. As he grew, he instinctively began to understand its functions. In the quiet hours, when the mansion was asleep, and even Jarvis was in a low-power state, Adama would slip out of his bed.
His training began subtly. First, just a faint shimmer, a brief moment where his tiny form seemed to blur, to become less substantial. Then, the feeling of enhanced agility, a lightness in his steps that allowed him to move with surprising grace for a toddler. He'd practice in the sprawling, empty hallways, feeling the faint hum of the Coat as he tried to activate its invisibility.
It was a frustrating process at first. He'd manage to make a single limb disappear, or a fleeting, transparent outline of his body. But with each attempt, the control grew. He learned to focus, to channel the Coat's energy, until one night, he fully vanished. Not just blurred, but gone. He stood there, a tiny, invisible ghost in the opulent mansion, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.
"Take that, world. Who needs a cape when you can just… not be seen? This is going to be so much fun. Imagine the pranks I can pull on Pietro when he finally shows up."
He also discovered the Coat's speed enhancement. It wasn't Pietro's super-speed, not yet, but it was enough to make him incredibly fast for a child, a blur of motion that would leave nannies scratching their heads. He'd race through the mansion, a tiny, silent tornado, reveling in the feeling of wind rushing past him, even indoors.
[System Message] Training with Coat of the Ascended: Progressing.
The message, a silent ping in his mind, was a small but significant validation. The System was watching. It was acknowledging his efforts. It was a reminder that this wasn't just a new life; it was a mission. And he, Adama Stiels, was ready for it. He was ready to be the hidden hand, the subtle force, the sarcastic genius who would nudge the MCU just enough to make a difference, all while making sure his new family, especially his twin, was safe.