New York. Peter hunched over the homework spread across the table, pencil scratching steadily across paper. His entire focus remained locked on the equations before him. Beside him, Mei propped her chin on one hand. Though her eyes tracked the movement of his pen, her thoughts had wandered far away.
The city's massive relief and reconstruction efforts had gradually eased New Yorkers' post-war panic and despair. Most residents had returned to their daily routines by now—schools reopened, businesses resumed operations, and Peter had returned to classes weeks ago.
But Hong Fei's building lay in ruins after the battle, still awaiting repairs. This left Mei temporarily unemployed. She spent her days mostly at home, often watching Peter complete his schoolwork. In her past imaginings, this domestic scene belonged decades in the future—except she'd pictured watching Peter's children, not Peter himself.
"Aunt Mei, if you're really that bored, you could go shopping. Or to the park. Or whatever you feel like doing." Peter's voice snapped her back to the present.
"Or maybe after I finish, we could go out together."
Mei blinked at him.
"I'm not bored. Focus on your work."
Peter shrugged without looking up.
"But I heard you sigh. You've been sighing more every day."
"Did I?"
Mei hadn't noticed.
"You definitely sighed. Right next to my ear."
Peter met her gaze with earnest brown eyes.
Mei inhaled deeply, then let the breath out in an exaggerated sigh. She reached over to ruffle Peter's hair.
"It's nothing. I'm just... too much free time."
Peter didn't pull away.
"It's okay. Do whatever you want. I'll keep going to school and doing homework—you don't need to worry about me."
Mei's smile softened further. It wasn't that she lacked desire to go out—she'd wanted to join the relief efforts weeks ago. With no need to work for income, meaningful activity seemed far better than idleness. But consideration for someone special had quashed those plans.
These days, New Yorkers might not know their president's name, but everyone knew the Dragon King. As someone connected to a... superhero, Mei decided maintaining a low profile remained wisest. The whole Captain America situation—stripped of hero status, branded a criminal—had set warning bells ringing in her practical mind. Causing unnecessary trouble for Hong Fei wasn't worth it. Boredom she could handle.
"I'm fine. Keep working."
Mei withdrew her hand and nodded toward his homework.
Peter dipped his head.
"After I finish, want to take a walk?"
"Sure. We can pick up milk on the way."
Quiet settled again, broken only by pencil on paper. Then—
BANG!
The front door exploded inward with enough force to send the panel airborne. It crashed onto the dining table, sending chairs scattering in a cacophony of wood on wood. Both occupants of Peter's room jerked upright.
Mei was on her feet instantly, one hand pressing Peter down into his seat. Heavy, disorganized footsteps pounded through the living room. Panic flashed through Mei's eyes before she tightened her grip on Peter's shoulder.
"Under the bed. Now."
Her free hand already clutched her phone, thumb hovering over Hong Fei's contact.
Peter froze for a split second at her command before scrambling under the bed. His torso had barely cleared the frame when the bedroom door exploded inward. Black-clad HYDRA operatives flooded through, their weapons trained unwaveringly on the pair. A gloved hand yanked Peter back into the open.
Guns leveled at their chests, both raised their hands in silent surrender. Fear flashed in Peter's eyes—not for himself, but for Mei. He started to turn his head toward her when a sharp bark cut through the air, "Don't move!"
Mei's voice came quick and steady.
"It's okay, Peter. Just stay still and do what they say."
The boy gave a jerky nod, his small face pinched with confusion. Mei studied their intruders, drawing a slow breath before speaking.
"What do you want? Money? There's cash in the bedroom, my bank cards—take whatever you need. Just don't hurt the child."
Silence answered her. Mei's gaze flickered across the armed figures, catching on Peter's Iron Man model by the door. Heavy footsteps approached, and the squad parted to reveal a broad-shouldered man filling the doorway.
Rumlow advanced while his team pressed against the walls, crowding the small space further. He studied Mei first, then crouched to Peter's eye level. A sudden grin split his face as he pinched the boy's cheek.
"Don't see any mixed features here. You're not his kid, are you?"
Peter blinked in bewilderment. Mei's fingers twitched.
Rumlow caught the movement instantly. Releasing Peter, he straightened to meet Mei's stare.
"You're the Dragon King's woman?"
"Eh?"
Peter's head jerked up.
Mei's voice turned to ice.
"What do you really want?"
"No need for alarm. We're just extending an invitation."
The implication hung heavy—this wasn't about robbery. It was a trap for Hong Fei.
Peter's jaw dropped.
"Aunt Mei, you know the Dragon King?!"
Mei's eye twitched. She said nothing.
Rumlow arched an eyebrow at the boy.
"You've met him and didn't even know? Though I suppose that tracks—the Dragon King wouldn't announce himself to some kid."
He chuckled.
"Your aunt here's sweet on the most dangerous man in the underworld."
Peter whirled toward Mei, stars in his eyes.
"Mr. Hong? He's the Dragon King?!"
For a moment, the guns around them seemed forgotten as excitement overtook his face.
Mei pulled him behind her with a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Take me if you must, but let the boy go. He's got nothing to do with any of this."
Peter's shoulders slumped at her words.
Rumlow shook his head.
"Can't do that, ma'am. But I promise you'll both be treated well."
Mei exhaled sharply as they were herded toward the door. She stopped abruptly.
"Wait—I need to grab something."
"Whatever you require, we'll provide," Rumlow dismissed.
Mei looked at him coldly and said, "What about his homework? Even as hostages, he can't neglect his studies."
Peter fidgeted, torn between confusion and disappointment. With a curt wave, Rumlow sent an armed escort trailing after Mei. The door clicked shut behind them—then slammed with unnatural force seconds later.
All heads snapped toward the sound as gun muzzles swung around. A series of crackling noises came from the room before silence fell again—heavy and unnatural. Rumlow glared at the sealed door, jaw tightening. After a beat, he barked, "Lady, I suggest you come out now unless you want to see what happens to the kid."
The threat barely left his lips when an unmistakable whine pierced the air. Peter's face lit up—any Iron Man fan would recognize that repulsor charging sound. A split second later, the door exploded inward in a blast of blue energy that sent Rumlow diving sideways. The HYDRA agent behind him wasn't so lucky; the pulse cannon hit sent him flying through the doorway, dead before he hit the floor.
With a metallic clang, the Iron Man armor strode through the ruined doorway. Rumlow's eyes narrowed to slits.
"Mr. Stark!"
Peter whooped, struggling against his restraints.
"You came for me!"
The armor didn't pause—both arms came up, repulsors blazing. Blue energy pulses streaked across the room as Rumlow rolled clear. The remaining HYDRA agents opened fire, bullets pinging harmlessly off the armor's plating in showers of sparks.
Mei flinched at first, but when the bullets ricocheted without leaving a scratch, her attacks grew bolder. The armor's AI, Arthur, chose that moment to deploy shoulder-mounted micro-missiles. They streaked outward in rapid succession, scattering the remaining agents—some collapsing where they stood, others fleeing through the shattered doorway.
The apartment was a warzone now. Smoldering furniture, crumbling drywall, flames licking up the curtains. Mei dashed to Peter's corner, scooping him up one-handed while the armor's free repulsor blew out the window. With Arthur's guidance, the suit leapt through the jagged opening and vanished into the night sky.
Rumlow staggered back into the apartment moments later, coughing through the dust. The scene was carnage—bodies sprawled across the floor, fires gnawing at the walls. He stormed into Peter's room and cursed. The Iron Man model that had been propped by the door was gone. Of all the oversights... Who'd expect an actual Stark suit to be sitting in some kid's bedroom like a toy?
Mission failure. Rumlow—no, Talos—could only grimace at the Dragon King's thorough preparations. Too many Skrulls dead already, the killer still unknown. Talos suspected the Dragon King's handiwork, but without proof, he couldn't rally his people against the shadowy figure. Not with Pierce gone and his Rumlow cover blown. He exhaled sharply and turned on his heel.
Before long, the downstairs was surrounded by firefighters and volunteers wearing clothes with the Dragon emblem. An ordinary-looking Westerner with a look of panic and worry mixed into the crowd and soon disappeared. Above the sky, Peter was being carried in a princess carry by the Iron Man Armor, flying forward. He turned his head against the strong wind and shouted loudly, "Mr. Stark, Aunt Mei!"
"Aunt Mei's still in the room!"
Peter protested.
"Stop talking—we have to go now," the other voice cut in.
"But Aunt Mei... Wait, that's not your voice?"
Peter's confusion sharpened his tone.
"I'll explain everything later. Not now."
Peter clenched his jaw, pressing his lips into a thin, stubborn line.
At this moment, the little boy was a bit angry and a bit aggrieved. He hated being the only one left in the dark, clueless while everyone else seemed to understand. The unfairness of it burned in his chest.