[Cortana: Analysis complete. Subject prioritizes career advancement. Affection present, but secondary. Future interaction likely dependent on operational overlap.]
James didn't answer. He drove off, stomach finally reminding him of its own needs. A fast-food joint that offered apple pies and black coffee. He parked, leaned back in the seat, and let the taste fully wake him. Another morning. Another mission waiting just beyond the peace and quiet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
James took the day off to settle in his new apartment, walked around the streets for places to eat, and took in the scenery as well as hidden walkways. The next morning he reported early to headquarters. Phil Coulson was already waiting by the entrance.
"How was dinner with Hill?" Coulson asked, voice curious.
James gave him a look. "And how exactly do you know about that?"
"Don't get the wrong idea. Nobody's tracking you. You just happened to invite her the same night I was pulled away. I figured you wouldn't waste the opportunity."
James smirked. "Alright, you caught me. It was a nice evening, but that's all it was. One night."
Coulson nodded. "She's more interested in her career anyway. You'll have to wait a while if you want more than that."
"Forget it. I should take a page out of Stark's book. I'm a billionaire now. Life's just starting."
Coulson arched a brow. "From what I've heard, you already had plenty of girlfriends before the money."
James shrugged. "That was different. I was broke, with no room for romance. Now it's another game. Anyway—let's get back to work. Where's my studio?"
Coulson led him into the elevator. "The underground factory. It's all yours. You're here for one reason—your genius programming. Same way you built your company. The original system's too clumsy. Too many operators were needed. The helicarrier needs smarter control."
"No problem," James said. "But if you want real intelligence, some of the hardware will have to change. Isn't the ship already complete?"
"It can be refitted. This first carrier has to prove itself. Fail here, and there won't be a second."
The elevator sank to the lowest level. Coulson guided him past the cavernous factory floor. Engineers moved between machines, welders sparked along catwalks, and stacked crates lined the edges. At the far end, he pointed to a sealed chamber.
"That's your studio. Alone, with no distractions. Technical data on the carrier is in there. If you need parts or staff to help, just ask—but keep your eyes open. If someone balks, they might be Hydra."
James nodded. "Got it." He hesitated, then asked, "Where's Captain America? Thought he came back with you."
Coulson's smile thinned. "Still adapting to life. Seventy years just gone. He's catching up—reading files, absorbing history. Not sure yet if he'll join the Avengers. He needs time."
"An old young man," James muttered. "That's an interesting life to have."
Coulson clapped him on the shoulder. "Just do your thing." He left James with the studio and closed the door.
Inside, James powered up the banks of computers. No Stark-level lab here—no J.A.R.V.I.S., and no automated luxury. Just bare hardware, cooling fans, and lines of code. He set them all running, fingers brushing against a USB port.
[Cortana: Downloading. Surveillance active. Multiple cameras in the room.]
James glanced at the corners. "Not subtle. But fine. We'll play along."
His pulse settled into rhythm, body sharpening as Cortana siphoned terabytes of design files.
[Cortana: Extraction invisible. No hardware traces. Organizing data now. Your conscious workload will remain unaffected. Multitasking enabled.]
James leaned back and flipped through the blueprints on-screen. A standard carrier frame, with a reinforced deck, and a massive weight increase. But the centerpiece was the anti-gravity engines.
"That's the heart of it," he muttered. "Smarter flight controls, or this thing's a tombstone in the sky."
Hours passed. His stomach growled before he realized noon had come.
"How's it going?" James asked.
[Cortana: Extraction complete. But system restructuring requires more energy. Current Host nutrients insufficient. A BADASSIUM core is optimal.]
"I'll handle it at home tonight. Stark left me a few spares. Any mention of exotic metals in the files?"
[Cortana: Negative. Standard armor composites. True breakthroughs require restricted S.H.I.E.L.D. archives. Suggest acquiring deeper access.]
James rubbed his temple. "Later. For now, we'll start a smart control program off these machines. But keep a leash on it. I don't want another Ultron situation."
[Cortana: Understood. Preparations are ongoing.]
Satisfied, James shut the monitors down. He stepped out of the studio and nearly collided with Maria Hill. She smiled, faint but genuine.
"Came to pick you up. You don't have to eat with the regular agents. Your badge gets you into the real restaurant."
"That's good news," James said. "Though I doubt it'll beat the food from the other night."
"Of course not," Hill said, eyes flicking briefly toward him. "But we can always try again, when there's time."