Chapter 398: The Stark Family Reunited
Stark Tower.
After tireless effort over the past few days, Tony finally managed to suppress the Extremis virus in Pepper's body and developed a cure.
With enough time, the serum could be fully purged.
"Killian really was a genius," Tony murmured in admiration as he examined a sample of the virus. Its ingenious structure had sparked countless ideas in his mind.
"Sir, satellite scan has located the target," his AI butler reported.
A projection immediately popped up—showing Morgan mercilessly pummeling a group of Extremis-enhanced soldiers.
Tony froze, eyes locking onto Morgan's towering, muscular figure.
There was no mistaking his daughter's face—but her hulking physique? That was another story.
"Allen!?"
The name burst into Tony's mind.
Ever since Allen had gone to rescue Morgan, there had been no word.
Now, even upon seeing that his daughter was safe, Tony found it hard to feel relief.
That once sweet and elfin little girl had turned into something neither fully human nor beast.
He hesitated about whether to tell Pepper—worried that the shock could destabilize her still-volatile virus symptoms.
"My daughter…"
Too late.
Fresh from a shower, Pepper walked in and saw the projection. Her hand flew to her mouth as tears welled up.
"Morgan's okay… thank God."
Tony realized he had worried for nothing.
Pepper was far from fragile. Upon confirming that their daughter was alive, her eyes gleamed with joy.
"Tony, let's go get Morgan back—" she said, voice hard and edged with killing intent, "—and deal with whoever did this."
"But your condition—" Tony hesitated, concerned her emotions might cause a viral flare-up.
"I'm fine."
In truth, Pepper had spent the past days adapting to the virus. She felt stronger than ever.
But every time she thought of Morgan being kidnapped, a storm of fury rose in her heart.
"Alright, just remember to bring the suppressant serum."
After so many years together, Tony knew her well.
Once she made up her mind—especially when it involved Morgan—there was no arguing.
Moments later, the two suited up in their respective armors and launched from the tower's rooftop toward the target location.
…
On the island.
David was locked in a one-against-three brawl and still couldn't gain the upper hand.
He had wrongly assumed that sea people would be at a disadvantage on land.
The flaw in his plan? He had underestimated his opponents' backgrounds.
Namor, Arthur, and Orm were all of royal lineage and accustomed to oxygen-rich environments.
Arthur, being half-human, had grown up on land.
How would David have known? He'd never mingled with Atlantis nobility.
Maintaining dry-air environments required tremendous tech and energy—something only aristocrats could afford.
Ordinary Atlanteans couldn't even breathe oxygen directly.
"You guys suck! Stabbing around with those tridents—there's no flair at all,"
Allen said lazily, lounging atop a collapsed frogman, watching the chaotic melee without lifting a finger.
"Then why don't you try it?" Orm snapped, stealing a glance mid-fight. "Easy to talk when you're sitting pretty."
The three royal fighters had indeed inflicted heavy damage on David—but thanks to green energy constantly mending his wounds, he seemed practically unkillable.
"Tch. Excuses." Allen shrugged.
Then he kicked the frogman beneath him and barked, "Start building a flesh-and-bone throne right now—or I'm throwing all of you into the sea!"
The frogmen's armor was shattered, too damaged to function.
At this point, they had to strip it off just to move—each set weighed dozens of pounds.
They were still mere mortals. No matter how much training they'd had, they were nothing compared to Allen.
Soon, a crude "throne" made of bodies was constructed.
Allen sat back with satisfaction and commanded, "Turn left—I wanna watch the Black Panthers brawl."
The frogmen crawled through the sand, repositioning Allen to watch Erik and T'Challa's battle.
Both wore vibranium suits and had enhanced bodies—one via super soldier serum, the other via heart-shaped herb.
Neither had the edge… yet.
T'Challa was slightly behind.
The heart-shaped herb serum Allen brewed still needed combat to fully activate its potential, and T'Challa was only beginning to adapt.
But something was visibly… off.
Unlike nanotech suits that adapted to the wearer's form, Allen's alchemical creations always came with side effects.
As the serum circulated through T'Challa's bloodstream, certain regions expanded—unnaturally.
It was… eye-catching.
Hiss…
"How scandalous," Allen muttered sarcastically. "Black Panther has unwholesome thoughts about his own cousin. Incest! Black! Enemies-to-lovers! So politically correct."
The royal guards couldn't help but stare, their eyes drawn like magnets.
Truly, the king had a presence unmatched.
Erik was furious.
He had realized T'Challa must've taken some version of the serum—and hadn't suffered the same… visible effects.
Jealousy flared.
Maybe it was a physique issue?
Erik's strikes grew more vicious—every move aimed to kill.
"Come on, Golden Panther! Kill him! He's clearly lusting after your buff, gorgeous body! I got your back—beat him till even his mama won't recognize him!" Allen shouted, pouring fuel on the fire.
If it weren't for the mask, T'Challa would've died of shame.
If he had known the side effects, he would've never taken the serum.
Still, he had to admit—he was feeling stronger by the second.
Their claws scraped across vibranium armor, sending out sparks.
The perfect defense meant the two could only exchange blow for blow, neither gaining ground.
Elsewhere, Morgan was wreaking havoc on the Extremis soldiers—throwing heavy punches like a raging beast.
The soldiers tried to flee, but they couldn't match Morgan's speed.
In the blink of an eye, she was on them again—fists flying.
So Killian devised a plan: take turns getting beat up. With their insane regeneration, they could survive and keep Morgan distracted.
BOOM.
Suddenly, two figures soared down from the sky in jets of blue flame.
A gold-red suit… Iron Man.
A sleek blue suit… Rescue.
Pepper rarely donned her armor—but today was different.
"Daddy! Mommy!"
Morgan waved ecstatically.
"Morgan!"
Tony and Pepper landed, hearts bursting with joy.
Tears in her eyes, Pepper disengaged her armor and waved at her daughter.
At the same time, Morgan bolted toward them.
She had been having fun—but missed her parents dearly.
"Wait, Morgan! Don't—!"
Tony's eyes widened in horror.
His daughter, now a muscled tank of a girl, was charging at them like a sentient boulder.
Too late.
She tackled them in a crushing hug.
'Warning: External pressure damaging armor. 18% compromised. Deploy defensive systems?'
'Warning: Damage rising to 25%. Auto-defense initiated—'
"Abort defense!"
Tony yelled instantly, afraid his suit might harm Morgan.
Where her arms pressed against the armor, deep dents formed.
The raw power was terrifying.
Pepper fared no better—face flushed, Extremis energy glowing through her veins.
"Morgan, let go! Mommy can't breathe!"
"Oops!"
Morgan released them, guilt-stricken.
"I didn't mean to squeeze that hard…"
Tony and Pepper gasped for air, pale as ghosts.
The strength she'd gained was unbelievable.
"Who did this to you?" Tony asked urgently.
"Grandpa!"
Morgan answered without hesitation—immediately selling Allen out.
"I knew it."
Pepper's eyes blazed as she scanned the area.
Soon, her sights locked onto the throne—now vacant.
"Allen! Don't think you can hide behind others—I will blast you to pieces if you don't show yourself!"
Instantly, her suit's weapons deployed:
Shoulder missiles.
Palm repulsors.
Chest cannon.
All powered up and ready to fire.
"Don't shoot! Friendly!"
Allen sheepishly stepped forward from behind the throne.
He waved.
"Don't thank me too hard, nephew. I had to give little Morgan some power—she's my granddaughter, after all."
"Power my ass!" Tony raged. "She's a child!"
"Reverse it. Now. Or I swear on my life—I'll take you down with me," Pepper growled coldly.
Allen sighed dramatically.
"You guys seriously have no respect for your elders."
He shook his head in disappointment.
"I could make you apologize this instant. Want me to prove it?"
"…"
He disfigured their daughter and wanted them to apologize?
Tony and Pepper almost laughed from sheer rage.
A true lunatic.
"Don't believe me?" Allen grinned. "Morgan, transform back."
"Huh? But I'm still having fun…"
Morgan pouted.
"Seiban, transform!"
With a reluctant shout, she called the transformation command.
A bolt of lightning struck her from above.
When the flash cleared—tiny, adorable Morgan stood in her place.
Tony's eyes bulged.
"Is this…?"
First thing that came to mind—Shazam.
Only instead of a supermodel, his daughter had turned into a muscle-bound she-hulk.
"Yep! Cool, right?"
Allen posed flamboyantly, hand on hip, fingers gun-shaped at his chin.
"So, where's my apology?"
"…"
Now it was Tony's turn to be embarrassed.
He had jumped to conclusions again.
At least Morgan was safe.
"…Sorry. We misjudged you," Pepper said, eyes brimming with gratitude. "We were just too worried. Please don't take it personally."
"No sincerity. You didn't call me uncle," Allen said, clearly not letting it go.
"…Uncle, I'm sorry."
Pepper's cheeks flushed red.
She was over forty—calling this man "uncle" felt… wrong.
"You too, nephew," Allen said smugly, turning to Tony.
"Don't push it."
Tony clenched his teeth.
He was almost fifty. No way he'd humiliate himself in public.
"Ungrateful brat," Allen snapped. "Fine, don't sleep tonight—if you do, I'll light fireworks under your bed."
"I'll never say it."
Dignity was dignity.
Tony turned his fury elsewhere—straight at Killian and his crew.
Killian met his gaze, unfazed.
Sure, he couldn't beat Morgan.
But Tony Stark? That was another matter.
"Capture the Starks! Use them as hostages for retreat!"
Killian had realized this battle was lost.
Black Manta was tied up fighting the three kings.
Erik and T'Challa were still deadlocked.
The frogmen were finished.
The Extremis soldiers couldn't even handle one girl.
Allen hadn't even started fighting.
Facing charging Extremis soldiers, Tony showed no fear—just contempt.
With a smirk, six missiles launched from his shoulders.
As they flew, they broke apart midair—releasing hundreds of needle-like projectiles.
The Extremis soldiers scoffed.
Normal missiles were useless. These tiny darts? A joke.
Even micro-nukes couldn't hurt them.
But they were wrong.
Each dart was coated with Tony's custom serum—specifically engineered to destabilize the Extremis virus and trigger explosive self-destruction.
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