Marvel: Familia System

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Bat to the Future: The Other Midoriya

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Tony glanced her way, then motioned for Pepper to take the now-vacant seat while signaling a passing waiter for another chair. Pepper slid in with a polite nod toward Warren and Nero. The waiter promptly brought the chair Tony requested, and Stark sank into it with the kind of casual arrogance only he could pull off.

"So," Tony started, tapping the table with two fingers, "did you all show up just to raid the bar, or is there a secret agenda I should know about?"

Diego, already sipping on another glass, shot Tony a lazy grin. "Would you believe me if I said it's both?"

Sofia gave Diego a side-eye. "Speak for yourself. Some of us are here to keep you from turning this party into a soap opera."

Anthony leaned in slightly, smirking. "And failing spectacularly at it, I might add."

Tony chuckled, clearly enjoying the dynamic. "I like this group. You guys bicker like an old sitcom cast." He raised his own glass in a mock toast. "To freeloaders with flair."

Diego clinked his glass against Tony's without hesitation. "I'll drink to that." He then turned to Pepper with a shit-eating grin. "So, you two are an item now?"

Pepper smiled lightly, keeping it casual, but Tony stopped her before she could respond. "Don't bother. Diego here is a renowned heart-stealer—you can't fool him."

Pepper raised an eyebrow, mildly amused. "Oh, really? Then how come I haven't seen him at your parties before?"

"They have different taste. That's all," Sofia quipped, taking another sip of her champagne, her eyes flicking briefly toward Diego with a knowing glint.

Pepper tilted her head, still a bit confused by the exchange, when Warren leaned in slightly, casually adding, "Let's just say you two were competing over Tony."

Pepper's lips parted slightly, processing the implication before letting out a quiet "Oh." She shot Tony a sidelong glance, and for a brief second, it looked like she was wondering just how much competition she'd actually had without knowing. Then her eyes opened wide, "Diego Martinez?"

Diego grinned, raising his glass slightly in acknowledgment. "In the flesh."

Tony gave him a look, somewhere between impressed and amused, exaggeratedly said. "Wait, the Diego Martinez? The guy with a reputation that makes me look like a saint?"

"Guilty." Diego leaned back casually, swirling the champagne in his glass. "But don't worry, Stark. I don't steal spotlights—I just borrow them for a bit."

Diego said without missing a beat, flashing Pepper a playful wink. "I see you've heard stories."

"I've heard enough," Pepper replied, shaking her head slightly but unable to suppress a smile. "Tony, you didn't mention we'd have celebrity-level charmers tonight."

Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Hey, I can't keep track of every playboy billionaire who walks in uninvited."

"Playboy? That's so last decade," Diego quipped. "I'm more of a lifestyle enthusiast now."

Warren's lips twitched as if suppressing a laugh, while Sofia muttered, "Please don't encourage him."

Tony glanced around, feigning an exaggerated look of confusion. "Where are the other two? Cripple and the old man. Might as well bring everyone to freeload, right?"

Nero leaned back, raising his glass halfway before speaking. "Donald and Nigel opted out. One of them is busy being responsible, and the other… well, doesn't do parties unless they serve a purpose."

Diego grinned, clearly enjoying the jab. "Besides, dragging Nigel to something like this is asking for a two-hour lecture on moderation. Hard pass."

"Not to mention Donald probably didn't want to watch you hitting on half the room," Sofia added, dry as ever. "He prefers less... public displays."

Anthony snorted quietly into his drink, keeping his comment to himself, but the glint in his eyes said enough.

"Right. So you brought the fun crew," Tony said, smirking as he leaned forward on the table. "Good call. Though I have to admit, Diego might've gone overboard by dressing like he's auditioning for a GQ spread."

Without missing a beat, Diego adjusted his blazer with an exaggerated flair. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Tony. Besides, I was aiming for something more Esquire than GQ."

"Gotta admit, Diego does know how to pick a look," Maria chimed in, smiling slightly. "Though we've yet to see if the effort pays off."

"Oh, it always pays off," Diego said, taking a slow sip of his drink before shooting a glance back toward the bar. "Give it time."

"Define 'pays off,'" Anthony cut in, unimpressed. "Getting phone numbers doesn't count if half of them block you the next day."

Diego's eyes gleamed mischievously. "They block me because they realize I'm too much to handle. Big difference."

"Keep telling yourself that," Sofia muttered before turning her attention to Pepper. "So, new lease on life, huh? That why Tony's suddenly throwing parties like it's going out of style?"

Pepper gave a slight shrug, her expression composed but warm. "Something like that. He figured surviving a near-death experience warranted some celebration. And," she added, shooting Tony a glance, "he never passes up a chance to make things bigger than necessary."

Tony held up his glass in mock salute. "Guilty. If you can't go big after cheating death, when can you?"

"Solid logic," Nero said, clearly amused. "Though I doubt you need much of an excuse to throw a party."

"Hey, it's not just any party," Tony said, leaning back. "This is a victory lap. I've got a new element keeping me alive, a lovely lady by my side," he gestured to Pepper, who gave a tolerant smile, "and an open bar. What's not to celebrate?"

"Until the military starts knocking again, demanding more suits," Nero said, not bothering to sugarcoat it.

Tony squinted. "Oh, you heard it? I thought it was confidential."

Sofia chuckled, placing her empty glass on the table. "With three of the biggest social media platforms streaming what happened on repeat? You'd have to live in North Korea not to know."

Warren leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Though I have to admit, watching the army and government flood those same platforms with posts to bury the footage is funny as hell. Clearly, they don't understand how technology works."

Anthony grinned. "If they did, they wouldn't be going after Tony so hard. Someone probably told them to 'fix the narrative,' and they ran with it without a clue."

Diego slapped the table lightly, eyes gleaming with amusement. "I bet that general's sitting at home right now, wearing his reading glasses, trying to figure out how to sign in."

"Wouldn't be surprised," Tony said, clearly enjoying the banter. "Though if they ever do figure it out, I'll personally congratulate them. Nothing like a military brass fumbling with social media controls."

Pepper shot Tony a mild glare. "And here I thought you wanted fewer headaches, not more."

"I do, which is why I'm here," Tony retorted, raising his glass toward Nero. "No better headache relief than good drinks and freeloaders."

"Speaking of freeloaders," Diego began with a mischievous grin, "how's your wine selection? I may or may not have spotted a few bottles behind the bar worth sampling."

Tony gave him a once-over, smirking. "You don't strike me as the 'may or may not' type. More like the 'definitely will and blame it on someone else' type."

"You know me so well," Diego quipped back smoothly, already glancing toward the bar like he was plotting his next move.

Anthony leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Can't you go ten minutes without hitting on someone?"

Diego feigned offense, placing a hand over his chest. "Excuse you, this isn't about hitting on anyone. This is about fine wine and appreciating good taste."

"Sure it is," Sofia muttered, eyeing him skeptically. "And I'm sober because I love water."

Diego pointed at her, grinning. "See? That's why we get along. You understand subtle art."

"Subtle?" Anthony scoffed. "Diego, you're about as subtle as a sledgehammer in a library."

Warren chuckled, clearly entertained by the exchange. "Careful, Anthony. He might take that as a compliment."

"Oh, I absolutely do," Diego said, raising his glass again. "A sledgehammer gets results."

"Results you're usually too bored to enjoy," Maria cut in, giving him a pointed look. "Didn't you just abandon someone at the bar because it was too easy?"

Diego shrugged, unbothered. "What can I say? I like a challenge."

"And you didn't find one here?" Sofia teased, glancing around at the well-dressed elites.

"Please," Diego drawled, swirling his drink lazily. "This crowd's too polished for anything interesting. No offense, Stark."

"None taken," Tony said, leaning back with a grin. "Though if you're looking for interesting, you could always try messing with Fury. He loves charming troublemakers."

"Oh, who is that?" Diego didn't skip a beat, smoothly deflecting Tony's bait as he turned toward the bar like he was genuinely curious about someone. Sneaking a sudden probe into a fast conversation? Classic Stark. But for now, they were just regular rich guys, not masked vigilantes crashing expos. Play it cool, keep it vague.

"Someone important?" Nero asked casually, taking a sip of his champagne, not missing the underlying test in Tony's tone.

Tony smirked, tapping a finger on the table like he'd just asked an obvious question. "Redhead near the DJ booth. She's been glancing over here since you walked in." He leaned forward, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone. "Friend of yours?"

Diego followed Tony's gaze, spotting the woman Tony was referring to—a striking redhead in a sleek emerald dress, standing with a small group. She seemed completely absorbed in conversation, giving no indication that she was paying attention to anything outside her circle.

"I think you're imagining things, Stark," Diego said, raising his glass lazily. "Maybe she's staring at you. Happens all the time, right?"

Sofia didn't even look up from her drink. "Careful, Diego. You'll bruise his ego."

Tony leaned back in his chair, unfazed. "Please, my ego's bulletproof. Ask anyone."

Anthony smirked slightly. "I would, but I'm afraid the line would take hours."

Tony grinned, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "You know, if this whole mysterious businessman act gets boring, you could all moonlight as comedians. I might even hire you for my next event."

"Tempting," Nero said, setting down his glass. "But I think we'll stick to our day jobs."

"Speaking of jobs," Pepper cut in smoothly, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters. "Nero, we didn't get a chance to thank you properly for stepping in during the last board meeting. It could've gone a lot worse without your help."

Nero waved his hand casually. "Obadiah was being a dick. Tony, for all his faults, has merit in promoting green energy, and I'm 100% behind the idea. That's why Warren and I stepped in."

Warren leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the table. "It made sense. Obadiah's interests were… short-term. Tony's thinking long-term, even if he won't admit it out loud."

"I would admit it, but you guys are so busy patting yourselves on the back, I didn't want to interrupt," Tony said, smirking as he took a sip from his glass. "But hey, I appreciate the vote of confidence. Not often I get people on my side who aren't also trying to sue me."

"Or steal your tech," Diego added without missing a beat, raising his glass in mock salute. "Cheers to unlikely allies."

Anthony glanced at Tony, eyebrows raised. "That's all it takes to win you over? A little green energy talk and fewer lawsuits?"

"You'd be surprised how motivating fewer lawsuits can be," Tony shot back. "Keeps the stress levels manageable."

Sofia leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "What I don't get is why you threw a whole party instead of just making a quiet announcement about your miracle cure."

"Because I'm Tony Stark," Tony said, spreading his arms wide like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Go big or go home. Besides, people love a comeback story, and I do comebacks better than anyone."

"Sure, let's call it that," Sofia muttered, picking up another glass from a passing waiter. "And not a thinly veiled excuse to show off."

Pepper sighed quietly, giving Tony a look that made it clear she'd heard this all before. "He wanted a distraction, too. It's not every day you cheat death."

"Yeah, dying tends to put a damper on your mood," Tony said, turning his attention back to Nero. "Speaking of distractions, you guys seem awfully chill for people who just walked into a room full of paparazzi and billionaires. Don't usually see that combination without a bit of posturing."

"We don't do posturing," Nero said smoothly, placing his empty glass on the table. "And as for the paparazzi, they're not interested in us. They're here for you."

"Lucky me," Tony muttered, glancing around the room at the small clusters of photographers lingering near the edges of the crowd. "Can't even throw a party without someone trying to turn it into tomorrow's headline."

"Relax," Diego said, leaning back in his chair. "They're just here to make sure the world knows Tony Stark is still alive, kicking, and hosting lavish parties. Nothing scandalous—yet."

Tony gave Diego a pointed look. "Yet?"

"Come on, Stark, it's a party. Give it time," Diego said with a smirk. "Someone's bound to do something stupid."

Everyone grimaced at the same time.

"You fool. You just jinxed it," Tony admonished, pointing at Diego like a teacher scolding the class clown. "Now something dumb will happen."

As if on cue, a loud crash echoed from the direction of the bar, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone cursing loudly in a language that wasn't English. Heads turned as a waiter stumbled backward, desperately trying to keep the empty tray in his hand from toppling. Behind him, a very drunk man in an expensive tuxedo wobbled unsteadily, one hand gripping the edge of the counter for balance while the other flailed wildly in a losing battle with gravity.

"Ah, see? What did I tell you?" Tony said, gesturing grandly toward the scene. "Chaos on cue. Thank you, Diego."

"Hey, I didn't push the guy," Diego shot back, raising both hands defensively. "Maybe he just got overwhelmed by my presence."

Anthony shook his head. "Or he got drunk too fast, saw you, and panicked."

"Must be the blazer," Sofia quipped without missing a beat. "Not everyone can handle someone dressed like they're about to host a fashion gala."

Ignoring the banter, Tony waved over Happy, who had been lingering near the entrance like a well-dressed bodyguard ready to swoop in. "Happy, do your thing. Calm him down before he faceplants into the expensive collection."

As Happy was making his way toward the drunk man, Nero's group went quiet for a brief second. They all felt it—something off, a subtle shift in the air, the kind of thing that didn't belong in a room full of champagne and social climbers. Observation Haki didn't scream danger, but it gave them that irritating buzz, like static brushing against their senses. Still, none of them reacted visibly—too many eyes, too many questions. Civilian mode stayed on.

Diego, lounging with his glass halfway to his lips, broke the silence. "Think the poor guy's about to become a meme," he muttered, nodding toward the drunk man stumbling by the bar. "Stark's events are goldmines for viral moments."

"Focus," Sofia murmured, barely moving her lips. "Something's weird."

Anthony's gaze sharpened as he scanned the crowd without turning his head. "You feel it too?"

"Yeah," Nero said lowly, barely audible over the hum of conversation and clinking glasses. He raised his glass, pretending to sip as his eyes flicked toward the entrance. "Too many eyes where they shouldn't be."

"I count five," Sofia whispered. "Two near the entrance, one by the DJ, one pretending to be part of security, and—"

"The last one near the balcony," Anthony finished for her.

"They're not paparazzi," Nero added. "More organized, less obvious." He set down his glass. "Stay put. Let's not give them a reason to act."

"Great," Diego drawled, leaning back as if he didn't have a care in the world. "I was hoping for some excitement tonight. Now it feels like work."

Before anyone could respond, the sound of something shattering cut through the ballroom. The chatter died down slightly as guests turned toward the source of the noise. One of the waiters had dropped a tray, the metallic clatter echoing loudly. Happy paused, glancing toward Stark, who waved him off with a casual hand gesture.

"Relax, everyone! Just a little case of butterfingers," Tony called out, grinning as the tension eased. "Go back to your overpriced hors d'oeuvres and bad networking."

The crowd chuckled, and the atmosphere began to return to its previous buzz. But Nero's group remained tense. The subtle signal they'd all felt moments ago hadn't gone away. If anything, it had gotten worse.

Maria leaned in close to Nero. "Should we do something?"

"Not yet," he replied. "Let's see if they make the first move."

Meanwhile, Tony, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, grabbed a drink from a passing waiter and turned back to his table. "See? No chaos. Just another Stark-certified smooth recovery."

Pepper gave him a skeptical look but didn't comment. She'd long since learned that trying to rein in Tony's ego was a losing battle.

Suddenly, the main doors burst open with a loud bang, silencing the room entirely. Four figures strode in, dressed in tactical gears of different forms—not the kind you'd expect from regular security. Their presence screamed something Stark hated: uninvited guests.

"Okay," Tony muttered, setting down his drink. "Who invited the fun police?"

One of the figures raised a device, a small cube-like object emitting a low hum. Instantly, the lights flickered, and the music cut out. Some of the guests gasped, more out of confusion than fear.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the lead figure announced, voice distorted by a modulator. "Stay where you are. This won't take long."

"Oh great," Diego muttered under his breath. "Party crashers."

Anthony's hand twitched slightly, instinct driving him to reach for something that wasn't there—his usual weapons. He caught himself, forced his posture to remain relaxed. 

Sofia's fingers tapped lightly against her glass, her mind already racing. "That device they used... it's a jammer. Killed all outgoing signals. No calls, no comms."

"And no way to get Iron Man's suit remotely," Nero added, eyes narrowing slightly. "Smart move."

Across the room, Tony was already in motion. He stepped forward casually, hands raised in mock surrender, a disarming grin plastered on his face. "Hey, if this is about the hors d'oeuvres running out, I can personally vouch for the catering team. Top-notch work. Maybe a little heavy on the truffle oil, but who's judging?"

The lead figure ignored him, raising the device slightly higher. "We're not here for you, Stark."

"Aw, that hurts," Tony said, still smiling but with an edge creeping into his voice. "You crash my party, ruin my vibe, and now you're telling me I'm not even the main attraction?" He glanced around theatrically. "Is this one of those surprise interventions? Because if it is, you should've brought balloons."

The figure didn't respond. Instead, they gestured to their team, who began moving through the crowd methodically.

Before he could say more, one of the figures near the balcony raised a weapon. Bullets shot toward the ceiling, causing a section of the chandelier to shatter and crash to the floor below. Guests screamed, some ducking for cover, others scrambling toward the exits—only to find them blocked by more armed figures.

"Okay, that's enough," Tony said, his grin gone. He tapped a hidden button on his wrist, activating a discreet signal. But nothing happened.

"Jarvis?" he muttered quietly, tapping again. Still nothing.

"They've blocked your suit," Pepper said quietly, stepping closer to him.

"Yeah, noticed that," Tony muttered. "Guess we're doing this the old-fashioned way."

Diego leaned toward Nero, voice low. "We stepping in, or do we let Stark wing it for a bit?"

"Let's see how he handles round one," Nero replied, eyes still on the lead figure. "If it goes south, we'll step in."

Meanwhile, Stark took a step forward, raising his hands again. "Alright, fine. You've made your point. Now, how about we skip the property damage and get to the part where you tell me what you want?"

The group arrived at Nero's table, their guns aimed at Warren. "Angel. You are coming with us."

Warren's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes as he set down his glass. "Angel? That's cute. Haven't heard that one in a while."

Anthony, who had been leaning back lazily in his chair, shifted slightly, just enough to be ready if things went south. "Bold of you to crash Stark's party and point guns at someone. You guys planning on walking out, or are we skipping straight to the part where you regret this?"

The lead figure didn't even glance at Anthony. "This isn't your concern. Stay out of it."

Diego snorted, clearly unimpressed. "Yeah, see, the problem with that is—Warren's kind of our guy. So, it kinda is our concern."

"You don't understand who you're dealing with."

"No," Nero cut in, his tone calm but carrying weight. "You don't understand who you're dealing with. Last chance. Put the guns down, walk away, and this ends without you needing an ambulance."

There was a brief silence. The tension around the table thickened, but the masked group didn't lower their weapons. One of them shifted, fingers tightening on the trigger, clearly ready for things to escalate.

Tony, standing a few feet away, raised a hand as if addressing a class. "Hey, quick question—do you guys not know how hostage situations work? Because coming into a room full of high-profile guests and pointing guns usually doesn't end well. Just saying."

As if on cue, tens of armed men in suits walked in with guns drawn, surrounding the area in smooth, practiced formation. These weren't random partygoers or overpaid mall cops—they were bodyguards, the kind that rich elites dragged everywhere they went.

Diego chuckled, loud enough to carry. "Really, guys? Don't you know everyone here's got armed bodyguards?" He gave the intruders a slow once-over, clearly unimpressed. "You came for a fight, but all you're getting is an audience of armed babysitters."

The lead figure's grip tightened on the weapon, but they didn't move. The situation had shifted, and now the tactical advantage they thought they had was gone.

Nero looked at the assailants—too amateur, too shabby. He shook his head slightly. Not military—stance was too loose, weapons too mixed. Not government—no coordination or signs of specialized training. And definitely not SHIELD—those guys would've been in and out before anyone knew what hit them. Whoever these people were, they didn't belong here.

"You're not professionals," Nero said calmly, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward, glass in hand like he didn't have a care in the world. "So, who sent you? Or are you freelancers trying to make a name for yourselves?"

The lead figure stiffened slightly but didn't answer. Instead, they adjusted their grip on the device, as if stalling for time. That reaction alone told Nero plenty—no real plan beyond showing up and causing chaos. Someone had thrown them into this without proper preparation.

"I'll take that as 'freelancers,'" Nero added, taking a sip of his drink. "And judging by how jumpy your friend on the balcony looks, I'm guessing you're already regretting this little stunt."

"Stay out of it!" one of the figures near the entrance barked, voice cracking slightly under the modulator. Too green. Definitely not someone used to high-stakes situations.

Anthony leaned toward Sofia, his voice low but clear. "They're falling apart already. Should we even bother?"

"Give it a minute," Sofia replied, eyeing the lead figure. "Nero's fishing."

"Smart." Diego swirled his glass lazily, keeping his tone light. "Nothing like a little pressure to make amateurs crack."

Meanwhile, the atmosphere shifted as Stark's security detail—an elite mix of private guards and the personal teams of several wealthy guests—tightened their formation around the room. Their professionalism showed in how quietly they moved, weapons drawn but not raised, ready for anything.

"Look around," Nero said, his tone still casual but carrying enough weight to draw attention. "You came in thinking you had control, but you don't. This room's filled with people who can afford better protection than you've ever seen. So, again, who sent you?"

One of the assailants shifted uncomfortably, clearly rattled by the growing number of armed guards. The lead figure didn't respond right away, but Nero noticed a slight hesitation—a flicker of indecision in their stance.

Nero shook his head, stepping slightly to the side as he addressed Tony. "They're yours, Tony. Your men can handle them, but tell them to go easy. They came in with a jammer and timed distractions—too coordinated for a bunch of idiots playing dress-up. Someone's behind this, and I doubt these clowns came up with the plan themselves."

Tony crossed his arms, taking a long glance at the still-armed intruders. "Easy? That sounds like work."

Nero gave a half-shrug. "You can handle a little work. Besides, with the waiter dropping that tray just before these guys showed up and the drunk near the bar causing a scene? Looks coordinated. Two distractions, followed by a 'grand entrance.'"

"Yeah, subtlety clearly wasn't their strong suit," Tony muttered. "Happy, round up the party crashers. Maybe Pepper can get a nice PR spin out of this—'Stark Party Saved by Quick-Thinking Staff.'"

Happy nodded, already signaling the guards to move in. The armed men spread out quickly, closing off any potential escape routes while a few approached the intruders directly. Despite the show of confidence earlier, the would-be attackers now looked noticeably less eager, the weight of the situation finally sinking in.

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