The morning sun was already gleaming off the Pacific Ocean, flooding the massive windows of the Malibu mansion with light.
"Good morning. It's 7:00 a.m. The weather in Malibu is 72 degrees with scattered clouds." A crisp, disembodied British voice echoed through the empty bedroom, and with that, the lights in the room flickered to life, and the tinted smart-glass of the windows slowly cleared to display the stunning ocean view. "The surf conditions are fair with waist-to-shoulder high lines. High tide will be at 10:52 a.m."
Christine Everhart jerked awake at the voice. Seeing that she was entirely alone in the bedroom, she pulled the heavy silk sheets around herself and slid out of bed. Walking over to the windows, she took a moment to stare out at the endless stretch of blue water.
She wrapped a plush robe around her shoulders and stepped out of the bedroom in search of the billionaire. The house was massive, high-tech, and intimidatingly quiet. She wandered through the sleek, empty hallways before she stepped out into the sprawling living room.
"Tony?" she called out, her voice echoing slightly. "Hey, Tony?"
Getting no answer, she wandered around in the living room, taking everything in. Her eyes eventually landed on a small touchscreen on the wall. She walked up to it, biting her thumbnail in nervousness, and she pressed a button, only to freeze as a warning flashed on the screen.
"You are not authorized to access this area," the British voice warned politely.
"Jesus," Christine gasped, jumping back and clutching the robe tighter.
"That's Jarvis. He runs the house," a calm feminine voice answered.
Christine spun around. Pepper Potts stood in the center of the living room, looking absolutely immaculate in a tailored dark suit jacket over a crisp white blouse and matching skirt. Standing just a step behind her was Adam, dressed in a crisp, perfectly tailored black three-piece suit, holding a glowing StarkPad.
"I've got your clothes here," Pepper offered, gesturing to the clothing bag she held in her hands. "They've been dry-cleaned and pressed, and there's a car waiting for you outside that will take you anywhere you'd like to go."
Christine blinked, quickly recovering her sharp journalistic edge. She looked the assistant up and down. "You must be the famous Pepper Potts."
"Indeed, I am."
"After all these years, Tony still has you picking up the dry-cleaning," Christine mocked softly, a smug smile tugging at her lips.
Adam's eyes locked onto Christine, and a frown appeared on his face, so imperceptible it wouldn't be noticed unless someone looked closely. He quickly got himself under control and looked at Pepper. To Christine, Pepper looked like a subservient secretary taking an insult. But Adam saw the microscopic tightening of Pepper's jaw and the cold, unyielding focus in her eyes. She wasn't insulted; she was preparing to strike.
"I do anything and everything that Mr. Stark requires," Pepper replied, her voice remaining perfectly polite and sickeningly sweet. "Including, occasionally, taking out the trash. Will that be all?"
Christine's smug smile instantly vanished, leaving her entirely speechless.
'Oh, the burn,' Adam thought with a hint of amusement while remaining perfectly still, his expression entirely neutral. 'She is a polite executioner,' Adam concluded silently, feeling a spark of genuine respect for his superior.
***
The heavy bass of rock music reverberated through the workshop's subterranean walls, drowning out the tranquil sound of the ocean above.
Adam stepped off the staircase behind Pepper, his pristine, three-piece suit feeling immediately out of place in the humid, oil-scented air. He had his StarkPad at his side, his expression entirely neutral despite the sensory overload.
In the center of the workshop, Tony was elbows-deep in the engine block of a 1932 Ford Flathead Roadster. He had a smudge of dark grease across his cheek and was aggressively ignoring the time.
"Give me an expanded view," Tony said in a low voice.
"Compression in cylinder three appears to be low," Jarvis replied in his smooth British voice, giving the expanded view on the screen.
Pepper stepped into the workshop, Adam behind her, and dialed down the stereo.
"Please don't turn down my music," Tony complained without glancing back.
"You are supposed to be halfway around the world right now," Pepper said, getting the StarkPad from Adam.
"How'd she take it?" Tony asked seemingly from nowhere.
"Like a champ," Pepper replied dryly. "Your flight was scheduled to leave an hour and a half ago."
Tony wiped his hands on a rag, deflecting with a casual shrug. "That's funny, I thought with it being my plane and all, it would just wait for me to get there."
Adam remained silent, maintaining a perfectly placid state of mind as his eyes locked onto his boss. To anyone else, Tony was just being a stubborn, irresponsible billionaire. But Adam noticed the micro-tension in Tony's shoulders and the dark, lingering exhaustion in his eyes. He wasn't just procrastinating; he was actively delaying the trip because his subconscious was screaming at him not to go.
"Tony, I need to speak to you about a couple of things before I get you out of here," Pepper replied, ignoring his comment.
"Doesn't it kind of defeat the whole purpose of having your own plane if it departs before you arrive?" Tony fired back seamlessly.
Pepper immediately pivoted to business. "Larry called; he's got another buyer for the Jackson Pollock, The Springs. Do you want it? Yes or no?"
"It's a good representation of a spring period?" Tony asked confidently, leaning back on the engine block.
"Um, no," Pepper corrected without missing a beat. "The Springs is actually a neighborhood in East Hampton where he lived and worked. Not spring like the season."
"I think it's a fair example." Pepper paused for a moment before adding, "And um, I think it's incredibly overpriced."
Tony didn't even blink. "I need it. Buy it. Store it." With that, Tony stood up and moved across the room, Pepper following him.
Adam stood there, his expression perfectly blank as his Spectator abilities processed the interaction. Tony had just casually authorized the purchase of a multi-million dollar painting, which he clearly knew nothing about, entirely to avoid talking about his impending flight to Afghanistan. It was a terribly expensive, yet undeniably effective, deflection.
"Okay," Pepper sighed, accepting the victory. "The MIT commencement is—"
"...in June. Please don't harangue me about your stuff." Tony groaned, moving toward his desk.
"Well, they are haranguing me. So I'm gonna say yes," Pepper replied without missing a beat.
"Deflect it and absorb it."
They were now talking over each other.
"I need you to sign this before you get on the plane," Pepper said, showing Tony the StarkPad, with some documents displayed on it.
"What are you trying to get rid of me for? What, you got some plans?" Tony asked with interest.
Pepper's eyes narrowed. "As a matter of fact, I do have plans."
"I don't like it when you have plans," Tony countered.
"I am allowed to have plans on my birthday," Pepper stated flatly.
Tony froze. "It's your birthday?"
"Yeah."
Tony quickly recovered. "I knew that. Already?"
"Yeah? Isn't that strange?" Pepper asked, a deeply sarcastic smile pulling at her lips. "It's the same day as last year."
"Well," Tony muttered, looking thoroughly caught. "Get yourself something nice from me."
Pepper's smile turned genuine, practically glowing with smug satisfaction. "I already did. And oh, it was very nice. Very tasteful. Thank you, Mr. Stark."
Standing in the background, Adam felt his respect for Pepper Potts hit an absolute zenith. She hadn't just managed a chaotic billionaire; she had orchestrated her own birthday gift using his money while simultaneously shaming him for forgetting it. 'She is brilliant.' Adam concluded silently. 'Utterly brilliant.'