Chapter 7: The Other Iron Heir
If there was one thing Morgan Stark inherited from her father, it wasn't just the genius-level intellect; it was the insatiable need to build, to tinker, to create. After Adama's revelation, her mind, already a whirlwind of circuits and schematics, went into overdrive. She had a new purpose, a new understanding of the world, and a new partner. And what did a partner of a secret, luck-manipulating superhero need? Her own suit, of course.
"Adama," Morgan declared one morning, her eyes alight with a feverish intensity, "I'm going to build an armor. Just like Dad's. But better."
Adama, who was currently attempting to levitate his cereal bowl with the Crown of Gravity without spilling milk everywhere, nearly choked. "Better? Morgan, your dad built a suit in a cave with a box of scraps. That's a pretty high bar."
"Details," she waved a dismissive hand. "His was reactive. Mine will be proactive. And it won't have a giant arc reactor glowing on the chest, making me a target."
And so began the saga of the "Iron Maiden" armor. Morgan, with her innate understanding of engineering and a healthy dose of Stark stubbornness, set up a clandestine lab in a rarely used section of the mansion's vast basement. It was a space that even Tony, in his chaotic genius, seemed to have forgotten existed.
"She's a true Stark, alright. Give her a wrench and a dream, and she'll build a spaceship."
Adama became her silent, subtle assistant. He couldn't just hand her Vibranium or advanced circuitry out of thin air, but he could nudge things. Morgan would be poring over schematics, muttering about a specific alloy she needed, and Adama would subtly use his Luck Manipulation. A forgotten box of "discarded prototypes" from a defunct Stark Industries project would suddenly appear in a corner of her lab, containing exactly the material she needed. A complex piece of wiring would be "misplaced" by a robot assistant, only to roll directly into her waiting hand.
[System Message] Luck Manipulation initiated. Rare Vibranium alloy found in a discarded prototype. 5 Non-Permanent Luck Points spent.
"Five points for a Vibranium alloy? That's a steal. Literally. Though I suppose it was technically 'discarded.' Tony probably just forgot about it under a pile of pizza boxes."
Morgan, ever the pragmatist, would simply shrug. "Huh. Guess Jarvis finally cleaned out that old storage unit." She never questioned the convenient appearances, too engrossed in her work.
The "Tony AI," a digital consciousness of their father's early personality, was a constant presence in her lab, offering a mix of genuine advice and exasperated commentary.
"Morgan, darling, are you sure you want to route the power conduits that way? It looks a bit... explosive. Not that I'm judging. Explosions are often the birth of innovation. Just... maybe not on your face."
Adama would often sit with her, offering moral support and the occasional sarcastic observation. "You know, if you just built a giant robot butler, it could probably do all this for you."
"And miss out on the fun?" Morgan retorted, a smudge of grease on her cheek. "Besides, a robot butler can't appreciate the elegance of a perfectly balanced repulsor array."
The armor slowly took shape. Sleek, crimson and gold, with a more streamlined design than Tony's bulkier models. It was designed for agility, for stealth, for rescue, not for brute force. Morgan poured her heart and soul into it, each rivet and circuit a testament to her dedication.
Finally, the day came. The "Iron Maiden" stood gleaming in the center of her secret lab. Morgan, with a nervous excitement, stepped inside. The suit hummed to life, the internal systems whirring, the HUD flickering to display complex data.
"Alright, Maiden," she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and triumph. "Let's see what you can do."
She activated the thrusters. With a controlled burst of energy, the armor lifted off the ground, hovering perfectly stable. Morgan soared around the large, empty lab, a graceful, metallic bird. Adama watched, a genuine smile replacing his usual smirk. This wasn't just a suit; it was Morgan's declaration. Her way of saying, I'm with you, partner. Let's save the world.
She landed softly, the thrusters powering down. She opened the faceplate, her face flushed with exhilaration. "It works! It actually works!"
"Of course, it works," Adama said, leaning against a workbench, a proud glint in his eyes. "You built it, didn't you? Now, about that 'better than Dad's' claim... are we talking early models or the current bleeding edge?"
Morgan just grinned, wiping the grease from her cheek. "Oh, we're just getting started, Adama. Just getting started."