The argument was already in full swing when Li Ming wandered out, shirt half-buttoned, hair a mess, bladder finally relieved.
Obadiah Stane was in the living room, voice booming like he owned the place. Tony stood across from him, jaw set, trading fire point for point. Li Ming ignored them both, dropped onto the sofa, and watched it like it was morning TV.
Took him a minute to catch up: Stane had charged in at dawn because Tony had nuked Stark Industries' weapons division on live TV—no board vote, no warning. The stock hadn't dipped; it had plummeted. Stane's fortune had gone with it. The man was popping heart pills like Tic Tacs, and now he wanted blood—or, failing that, whatever was glowing bright and blue in Tony's chest.
Tony shut that down fast. The reactor was private. Period. Cue the shouting match.
Li Ming nearly laughed. Two titans of industry, bickering like family at Thanksgiving. If he recorded this, the tabloids would sell it by the pound.
Tony caught his look and rolled his eyes. "I'm not arguing with him in front of a guest. Rude."
Stane inhaled through his nose, forced calm, then turned the full weight of his genial baritone back on Tony. "Your reckless words are bleeding this company dry. I can stabilize the market, but—" His eyes flicked to Li Ming, then to the arc reactor. "—I need something splashy."
He crossed to Li Ming, hand outstretched. "Mr. Austin, isn't it? Pepper mentioned you. The man who brought Tony home. He's like a son to me. Thank you."
Like a son, huh? Li Ming thought. You must think Tony's blind. But he smiled, shook, then glanced at Tony. "I'm starving. Breakfast?"
Talking to Tony while still gripping his hand stung Stane's pride, but he let go. "Rest. I'll steady the ship."
He left. The smile slid off Li Ming's face. "You asked about the traitor," he said quietly. "Watch him. I see futures, not evidence. If you want him gone, you'll need the proof."
Tony's face went tight. "You realize who he is to me. He practically raised me."
"You've already suspected," Li Ming said, clapping his shoulder. "Your Afghanistan trip wasn't public knowledge. You just didn't want to believe."
Tony rubbed his brow, exhaled. "Kreacher's had Chinese breakfast going since dawn. Should be ready."
Topic closed.
Li Ming didn't press. No profit in Obadiah Stane unless shares transferred with his soul. If they did, Li Ming would happily pry the confession out with Legilimency. For now, Tony could play detective.
Breakfast was good. Soy milk, meat buns, fried dough. Li Ming wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Tony slid him a napkin with a look.
"RV retrofit this afternoon," Tony said, tapping the reactor. "This morning, I upgrade my ticker."
Li Ming groaned. "So I can't take the RV? I wanted to visit Uncle Ben."
"Now I'm curious," Tony said. "What kind of saint gets your respect? Heads-up—he's not rich. Works shifts. Show up cold and you might miss him. Bring a gift."
"I did," Li Ming said, already standing. "J.A.R.V.I.S. has his schedule. On duty tonight, so he's home now." He called toward the kitchen: "Kreacher, my shoulder bag."
Pop—bag in hand. Tony eyed the trick, envy plain.
Li Ming considered. Ben Parker was ordinary to the core. Kreacher's look could give him a heart attack. "Stay here," he ordered. "The man doesn't know magic."
Kreacher bowed low. "Invisible. Silent. Kreacher won't frighten the boss's friend."
Tony raised a hand. "Take him. If I start tearing apart your RV and he panics, I don't need curses flying around my shop."
Fair point. "Fine," Li Ming said. "Invisible. No talking."
Kreacher beamed, vanished. Only a ripple of magic betrayed him.
Li Ming rode the subway, switching lines under J.A.R.V.I.S.'s guidance, until he reached a worn brick walk-up in Queens. A black SUV idled down the block—S.H.I.E.L.D., most likely.
Above, a skinny kid in glasses perched on a balcony rail, one leg swinging over empty air, nose in a notebook.
Peter Parker. Not Spider-Man yet, but the pieces were there. Brave, reckless, maybe both.
"Hi," Li Ming called. "This Ben Parker's place?"
Peter looked down, sizing him up. "Yeah. Who are you? You need my uncle?"
Inside, Ben Parker set aside his broom at the sound of his name. He opened the door, cautious, then blinked at the stranger on his stoop.
"I'm Ben Parker. And you are…?"
Li Ming offered a hand. "Austin. We met years ago—you and your brother were camping, ran into a backpacker on the trail."
Recognition warmed Ben's face. He shook firmly. "I remember."
People change. Li Ming had aged, his presence deeper, sharper. Ben weighed him carefully—neat clothes, polite, not a thug, daylight call. Good enough. He stepped aside.
"You look different," he said. "Not just your face. Been traveling all this time?"
Li Ming had come to see Uncle Ben with two goals: check whether Peter had become Spider-Man early, and deliver a charm that would make good on his vow—Uncle Ben dies of old age, or not at all.
But when Ben studied him, Li Ming felt the caution in the older man's eyes. You don't mean harm, but we can't know that. A family like this—one elder, one kid—can't stop you if you did.
The logic was sound. Didn't stop it from stinging. The enthusiasm that carried him here thinned into distance.
To him, I'm just a stranger with a memory, Li Ming thought. That's all.
His gaze slid to the black SUV idling down the block. He didn't need the logo on the plate to know who it belonged to. S.H.I.E.L.D. already had the building in their sights. That sealed it—keep Ben and May clear of the blast radius.
A simple background check would paint the Parkers wholesome and ordinary. But Peter? Different story. Richard Parker's name in genetics still lit up dossiers—cross-species experiments, high-risk fields. Fury wouldn't need much to imagine Li Ming sniffing around for buried research. That kind of thinking could turn the Parkers' home inside out.
Tea was out. Instead Li Ming smiled, reached into his bag, and drew three jade pendants, each carved fine enough to glow in the morning light. "Picked these up on the road," he said. "Jade is said to be alive—the longer you wear it, the stronger it shields you. A small gift."
Ben started to wave it off—too generous for an old trail acquaintance—but Li Ming pressed gently until he relented. The necklace slipped over Ben's head, settled against his chest… and caught.
Li Ming nodded once. Quietly satisfied.
"I should run," he said, tipping his head toward the SUV. "We'll talk again soon."
Ben called after him. "Mr. Austin—where are you staying? I can come visit."
Polite invite or genuine warmth, it landed either way. Li Ming scratched his head. Tony's offer of land was still future tense. He smiled. "Stark Industries staff quarters for now. I'll let you know when I'm settled."
He crossed to the SUV and opened the passenger door. Natasha didn't greet him, just kept her eyes on the stoop.
"Don't tell me he's family," she said flatly. "A full-blooded Chinese with a white uncle? Or does that gentleman have some rare albinism?"
Li Ming rolled his eyes. "If you're going to lie, at least hide the file you already pulled. You know everything about Ben Parker, so why the quiz?"
Natasha flicked him a glance. "Around here we don't call strangers 'uncle.' We say 'mister.' You never grew up in China, so why use the honorific?" She eased into traffic. "Where to?"
Li Ming leaned back. "Convenience store. Beer and peanuts. Then find me a view."
Her brow arched. "Trying to get me drunk? Beer's water to me."
He cut her a sideways look. "Why would I buy you a drink? You want something, buy it yourself. I'm broke. Don't get ideas."
She narrowed her eyes, recalculating. Blind to hints? Not interested? Or attached already? Their files listed old flings, then nothing. Unless they'd missed her. Or unless she was like him.
Li Ming pressed fingers to his temple, watching the city blur past. One stray word and a spy's brain ran a marathon. Do all agents think like this? Exhausting.
"Black Widow," he muttered as she gunned through a yellow. "Your multitasking behind the wheel is not my thing. Can I walk from here?"
Her mouth curved. "'Black Widow?' I'm far too pretty for 'ma'am.' Doesn't suit your brand."
Li Ming's eyes swept her up and down—appreciative, but clinical. "Body's great. Just not my type. What should I call you then—Granny?"
She braked hard, pulled to the curb. "Out."
He grinned, slid out.
"News flash," she called after him, heat in her tone. "Asking a woman's age? Off-limits."
He shrugged, walked toward the corner mart.
Natasha watched him go, then hit speed dial. "Director? You were right. Austin knows things he shouldn't—things about me."
Fury's sigh came heavy over the line. "So our 'top secret' isn't so secret. We don't even know how much has already leaked. What else?"
"Might be my imagination," Natasha said, "but his respect seemed aimed at Ben Parker, not Peter. I don't think he's circling the family for Richard Parker's research." She hesitated. "He provoked me on purpose—with age—so I'd kick him out. He doesn't want more contact right now. Also… we missed something. He's in love—with a woman. Our files don't say who."
By the river, Li Ming cracked a six-pack, tore open peanuts, and leaned against a rail. Cars slid past like silver fish. He drank without tasting. Rootless. Restless. Like he'd already run out of places.
Half a case later he muttered to himself, "Stark's busy with the RV. I can't train here. Half a day and I'm climbing the walls. Maybe hop to another world—bring Kreacher. Otherwise Fury will spend his week figuring out how to squeeze him. S.H.I.E.L.D.—always a headache."
He tossed the bottle, slipped into a side alley, and opened a glowing portal onto white sand. Kreacher's invisible presence brushed his shoulder. Together they stepped through.
Back at Stark's garage, Tony—reactor humming bright in his chest—poked his head out from under the RV as the portal sealed. "If you've been drinking, don't ask to borrow the car. And it's not done yet. Walking?"
Li Ming flashed teeth. "Why borrow wheels when I can cross borders without a passport?" He vanished into the light.
Tony wiped his hands, mouth curling. "J.A.R.V.I.S., capture that portal signature?"
"Recorded, sir. Shall I analyze?"
"Make a dedicated file. Once the Mark II is finished, we crack it."
His eyes lit on the RV, brighter than the arc reactor itself. "While Austin and Kreacher are out—full spectrum scan. Every energy profile inside."