Today we start our chapter off in the bedroom/lab of our hero Tony who was staring at a holographic projection of Dr. Wendy Lawson's—aka Mar-Vell's—private files. The data, recovered from the hard drive Jarvis had swiped, was a kaleidoscopic nightmare of Kree mathematics, quantum field theory, and energy signatures that seemed to defy the very laws of thermodynamics Tony had mastered by age six. Hell some of the 20 elements described in the files didn't exist in humanities periodic table.
"It's not... it's not making sense!" Tony hissed, his eyes bloodshot. "The logic gates are inverted! Why would you use a base-12 numerical system for a light-speed vector? It's inefficient! It's insane! It's... it's alien!"
He pulled at his hair, his small fingers tangling in the dark locks. To anyone else, Tony Stark was a miracle, a boy who could build a circuit board in his sleep. But staring at the Kree blueprints for the cosmic-powered engine was like trying to read a Shakespearean play written entirely in emojis while riding a unicycle. He understood the concept—folding space-time using a localized singularity—but the how was buried under layers of extraterrestrial encryption and science that Earth wouldn't discover for another three hundred years. Not to mention...IT WAS ALL WRITTEN IN KREE FREAKING GLYPHS!!!! Just translating took an hour for a single sentence!
"One percent," Tony groaned, checking his progress bar. "I've decrypted one measly percent of the propulsion schematics. At this rate, I'll be thirty before I can even build a toaster that uses Kree tech."
He stood up, his chair screeching against the floor. SCREEEEE. The frustration that had been simmering for three hours finally boiled over. Tony wasn't used to being the second-smartest person in the room, and even though Dr Lawson was a dead alien scientist, she was currently kicking his genius butt from the grave.
"STUPID! ALIEN! MATH!" Tony yelled, grabbing a nearby prototype flight stabilizer—a heavy hunk of chrome—and tossing it toward a scrap pile.
It didn't hit the scrap pile. It bounced off a reinforced titanium support beam with a deafening CLANG, ricocheted off a storage cabinet, and slammed directly onto Tony's big toe.
"ARGH! SON OF A—!" Tony caught himself before finishing the curse word, hopping on one foot while clutching his throbbing foot. "OWWWWWWWWW!"
The cry echoed through the lab. Instantly, the doors to the charging bay hissed open. Pshhhhhh.
A large, white, inflatable shape waddled out with a rhythmic squeak-squish, squeak-squish. "Hello, I am Baymax. Your personal healthcare companion." Baymax said, his voice a calm, digital melody. "Hello, Tony."
"Not now, Baymax! I'm busy having a breakthrough... of my bones!" Tony winced, falling onto his butt and cradling his foot.
Baymax waddled over, his black dot-eyes fixed on Tony's foot. "I am scanning. A localized contusion is present on the distal phalanx of the first digit. On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"
"It's an eleven! It's a twelve! It's the Kree number system!" Tony snapped.
"I will apply a cold compress," Baymax said. He reached into his internal compartment and pulled out a small, chilled gel pack. He knelt down—a slow, puffing motion—and pressed it against Tony's toe.
"Ow, ow, ow! Cold! Too cold!"
"The temperature is optimal for reducing swelling," Baymax replied. "You also appear to be experiencing high levels of cortisol and adrenaline. Are you under emotional stress, Tony?"
"I'm trying to solve the secret to faster-than-light travel while being grounded in a house that doesn't even have a decent fiber-optic connection yet!" Tony threw his hands up. "Yes, I'm stressed!"
"Would you like a hug?" Baymax asked, tilting his head. "Hugging releases oxytocin, which can improve your mood."
"I don't need a hug, I need a Kree-to-English dictionary!"
Before Tony could continue his rant, the lab door slid open. Maria Stark stepped inside, looking impeccably dressed in a silk blouse and slacks. She took one look at her son on the floor, the marshmallow robot holding his foot, and the scattered holographic blueprints of alien technology.
"I see the morning is going well," Maria said, her voice a mix of amusement and iron-clad resolve.
"Mom! Tell Baymax I'm fine! And tell Dad I need more processing power for the computer! Or better yet, a newer computer !!!" Tony pleaded, trying to stand up and failing as the gel pack slipped.
Maria walked over, her heels clicking on the floor. Click. Click. Click. She stood over him, her shadow falling across the Kree schematics. "Tony, we've talked about this. You've spent the last three months buried in this lab. Ever since you and Jarvis got back from... wherever it is you actually went... you've been obsessive."
"I'm not obsessive, I'm focused! There's a difference!"
"The difference," Maria said, reaching down to help him up, "is that you are ten years old. And your father and I have made a decision."
Tony froze. He knew that tone. It was the "Stark Industries Board Meeting" tone. "What decision? If it's about the lab budget, I can explain the need for the gold-titanium alloy—"
"It's not about the budget, Tony," Maria said, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips. "It's about your social development. I've spoken with the headmaster at the St. Jude Preparatory Academy. You start tomorrow."
The silence that followed was so heavy it felt like the gravity in the room had tripled. Tony's jaw dropped. His eyes went wide. The cold pack fell from his foot with a wet thwack.
"School?" Tony whispered, his voice cracking. "You... you want me to go to school? With other... children? People who think adding and subtraction is a challenge?"
"It will be good for you," Maria said, smoothing his hair. "You need friends your own age. Not just Jarvis and a robot that looks like a giant pillow."
"I am a healthcare companion," Baymax interjected.
"Mom, please!" Tony scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his toe. He grabbed her hand, his eyes shimmering with the desperation of a man facing the gallows. "I'll do anything! I'll stop building the super smart computer! I'll eat my spinach! I'll even... I'll even let Dad teach me about 'paperwork' and 'budget cuts'! Just don't send me there! It's a wasteland filled with idiots and dodgeball!"
"The decision is final, Anthony," Maria said, her voice softening but remaining firm. "You've had your adventure. Now it's time to be a normal boy for a while. Your uniform is on your bed. Your bus picks you up at 7:30 AM."
"7:30?!" Tony shrieked. "That's practically the middle of the night! My brain isn't even at 10% capacity until 10:00am! AND THAT'S AFTER I HAVE MY DAILY PANCACKES AT 9!!!!"
"Then I suggest you get some sleep," Maria said, kissing his forehead. "Goodnight, Tony."
She turned and walked out, the door hissing shut behind her. Tony stood in the center of the lab, surrounded by the secrets of the universe, and felt like his life was over.
"I am sensing an increase in your heart rate," Baymax said. "Would you like me to play some soothing forest sounds?"
"Shut up, Baymax," Tony moaned, burying his face in his hands. "I'M GONNA DIE."
The next morning was a blur of starched collars, itchy wool pants, and the smell of breakfast burritos that Tony was too nauseous to eat. Maria dropped him off in front of the massive wrought-iron gates of St. Jude's, the Stark sedan looking like a sleek shark in a sea of station wagons.
"Have a wonderful day, sweetheart!" Maria called out, waving from the window. "Make a friend!"
Tony stood on the sidewalk, his backpack felt like it was filled with lead weights. He watched the car drive away, feeling like he'd been abandoned in a hostile alien wilderness. He looked up at the gothic brick buildings of the school. In his past life, he'd skipped most of his early schooling because he was "too advanced," eventually landing at MIT at age fifteen. He'd hoped to avoid this cycle of boredom in this new life, focusing on his Kree tech and Baymax.
But here he was. Back in the trenches.
"Okay, Stark," he muttered to himself, adjusting his tie. "You've faced Kree soldiers. You've flown a space ship through the stratosphere. You can handle fifth grade. It's just... tiny people with sticky hands. How hard can it be?"
He realized he had no idea where the main office was. The campus was a maze of lawns and identical-looking hallways. Students were running past him, shouting, laughing, and trading Pokemon cards—primitive, cardboard-based entertainment that made Tony's soul ache. Though he did have every single excisting card in a collection stashed away safely at home, but he didn't tell you that.
He scanned the crowd, looking for someone who didn't look like they were about to burst into a chorus of 'The Wheels on the Bus.' That's when he saw a kid standing near a fountain. He was a few inches taller than Tony, with dark skin, a crisp uniform, and a focused expression that suggested he was actually thinking about something more complex than lunch.
Tony mustered his confidence and walked over. "Hey. You. Tall kid."
The boy looked down slightly, blinking in surprise. "Me?"
"Yes, you. I'm looking for the administrative offices. I'm new, and apparently, my mother thinks I lack 'direction,' both metaphorically and literally."
The boy laughed—a solid, grounded sound. "You talk like a textbook, man. I'm James. James Rhodes. Most people just call me Rhodey."
Tony froze. Rhodey.
Inside his mind, a slideshow of memories flashed by: a silver and grey suit of armor, a loyal friend who stood by Tony Stark when the whole world turned against him, the man who had been his "War Machine" and his brother. In his past life, he never had a Rhodey. But here he was. A ten-year-old Rhodey, already looking like the kind of kid you could trust with your life.
"Rhodey," Tony whispered, a genuine smile breaking through his mask of annoyance. "I'm Tony. Tony Stark."
"Stark? Like the guys who make the weapons that protect our country?" Rhodey asked, his eyes widening. "Wait, I saw you on the news! You're that kid who... uh... did that thing with the circuit boards!"
"I did a lot of things with circuit boards," Tony said, regaining his swagger. "But yeah, that's me. Listen, Rhodey, if you guide me to the office, I'll tell you why the propulsion systems on the current NASA shuttles are fundamentally flawed."
"Deal," Rhodey grinned. "As long as you don't use too many big words. Come on, it's this way."
As they walked, the two boys hit it off immediately. Tony found that Rhodey was obsessed with a new sci-fi action show called Ultraman, and Tony spent the next ten minutes explaining exactly how the special effects were achieved using miniature sets and forced perspective.
"You're weird, Tony," Rhodey said as they reached a set of heavy oak doors. "But you're okay. This is the office. I gotta get to homeroom, but I'll see you at recess, alright?"
"Count on it," Tony said.
The next hour was a lesson in the art of the "Sycophant." The principal, a balding man named Mr. Higgins, practically tripped over himself when he saw Tony's name on the registration form.
"Mr. Stark! An honor! A true honor!" Higgins beamed, his teeth looking a little too white. "We are so thrilled to have a mind like yours at St. Jude's. We pride ourselves on 'Nurturing the Future,' and you, my boy, are the future!"
"Right. Great. Can I have my schedule? I've got a 10:00 AM meeting with a juice box," Tony said dryly.
Higgins didn't even blink at the sarcasm. He spent the next twenty minutes giving Tony an "enthusiastic" tour of the school, pointing out the library (which Tony noted had a pathetic selection of quantum physics journals) and the computer lab (which utilized machines that Tony could have outperformed with a calculator and some copper wire).
"And here," Higgins said, throwing open a door with a flourish, "is your classroom. Fifth Grade, Room 302. Mrs. Gable is one of our finest."
The principal walked in first, clapping his hands for attention. "Class! Attention, please! We have a very special addition to our family today. I'd like you all to give a warm St. Jude welcome to... Mister Anthony Stark!"
Tony walked in, his hands in his pockets, trying to look as "cool" as a ten-year-old in a sweater vest could look. The room went silent. Thirty pairs of eyes stared at him. He saw some kids whispering, others looking intimidated, and then he saw a familiar face in the third row.
Rhodey was waving at him, pointing to the empty desk right next to his.
"Anthony, would you like to introduce yourself to the class?" Mrs. Gable asked, a kind-looking woman with half-moon glasses.
Tony stepped to the front. "I'm Tony. I like robotics, high-energy physics, and avoiding boredom at all costs. I also have a robot at home that looks like a marshmallow, and if any of you try to bully me, I should warn you that my butler is a super spy."
The class stared at him in stunned silence.
"Thank you, Anthony," Mrs. Gable said, clearing her throat. "That was... very thorough. Why don't you take a seat next to James?"
Tony sat down next to Rhodey, who leaned over and whispered, "A super spy? Really?"
"Don't tell him I told you," Tony whispered back. "He's very sensitive about his military past."
The morning passed in a blur of mundane history facts and basic math. Tony spent most of the time sketching the armor he'd eventaully build for Baymax in the margins of his notebook, while Rhodey occasionally nudged him to make sure he was actually "paying attention."
When the bell finally rang for recess, the classroom erupted. RINGGGGGG!
Tony tried to follow Rhodey out to the courtyard, but he was immediately cut off by a swarm of other kids.
"Are you really a billionaire?"
"Can you build me a laser gun?"
"Is it true you live in a mansion with a waterfall?"
"Do you know the President?"
Tony found himself surrounded by "The Populars"—kids whose parents were lawyers, doctors, and minor celebrities. They were all grinning at him, trying to touch his sleeve as if his genius was contagious.
"Back up, people! Give me some space!" Tony shouted, waving them away. "Yes, I'm rich. No, I won't build you a laser. It's a liability issue."
He looked past the crowd and saw Rhodey sitting by himself on a wooden bench near the fence, kicking at some gravel and looking at a comic book. Rhodey looked used to being the kid who stayed on the sidelines—the quiet, steady observer.
Tony felt a strange tug in his chest. In his past life, he'd always run from the spotlight. He'd wanted the crowd, the applause, the flashbulbs yet never had the courage to seek it out. But looking at Rhodey, he realized that a hundred fans didn't equal one real friend.
"Excuse me," Tony said, pushing through the circle of preppy kids. "I have a very important meeting with a strategic consultant."
"Who?" one of the girls asked.
"The guy with the comic book," Tony said, pointing at Rhodey.
He walked over and plopped down on the bench next to his future best friend. Rhodey looked up, surprised. "What are you doing over here? Those kids were treating you like a rockstar."
Tony leaned back, looking up at the sky. "Rockstars are overrated, Rhodey. Too much hairspray. Besides, I wanted to know what happens in that issue of Ultraman." He pointed to the comic in Rhodey's hand.
Rhodey's eyes lit up. "Wait, you like this too? Everyone else says it's for nerds."
"Rhodey, I am the king of the nerds," Tony said nonchalantly. "And for your information, the way the Ultras merge with humans is something completely impracticle. I mean come on, why of all species would you choose humanity ?."
Rhodey laughed, handing Tony half of his sandwich. "You're crazy, Tony Stark. But maybe this school year won't be as boring as I thought."
Tony took a bite of the sandwich. For the first time since his mother had dropped him off, he didn't feel like he was in a wasteland. He felt... okay. Maybe school wasn't the end of the world. Maybe it was just the beginning of a new team.
As the final bell rang at 3:00 PM, Tony walked out of the school gates, feeling a sense of triumph. He'd survived day one. He'd found Rhodey. He'd even managed not to correct Mrs. Gable's explanation of the American Revolution (mostly).
"See ya tomorrow, Tony!" Rhodey called out, hopping onto his bus.
"Later, Rhodey!" Tony waved back.
He turned to head toward where the Stark sedan was waiting, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see a girl from his class—a quiet girl with pigtails and a very shiny glitter-covered folder.
"Hi, Tony," she said, her face turning a bright, alarming shade of pink.
"Uh... hi. Pigtails. Right?"
"I'm Penny," she squeaked. She reached into her folder and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper with a heart sticker on it. "I... I think you're really smart. And I like your hair. I... I think I love you! Will you be my boyfriend?"
She shoved the note into his hand and ran away, giggling hysterically as she joined a group of other girls who were all watching from a distance.
Tony stood there, frozen. The paper in his hand felt like it was made of radioactive waste.
Inside his head, the teenage soul was screaming. He was an adult soul trapped in a ten-year-old body, and he had just been "confessed" to by a girl who probably still believed in the Tooth Fairy.
The horror of the social hierarchy, the awkwardness of childhood romance, and the sheer, agonizing slow-motion reality of being a kid again hit him like a freight train.
Tony looked at the glittery note. He looked at the school gates. He thought about the next eight years of this.
He clinched his eyes shut and let out a silent, internal roar that would have shattered the Kree cruiser.
I TAKE IT BACK! THIS FREAKING SUCKS!!!!