Son Of Iron 2

(Third Person POV)

"Why is it so garbage, man?!" a man yells as he sits in the bar. Thankfully, he's one of the few people left in there, but the bartender gives him a nasty look, so he calms down.

The man simply nods and goes back to his drink, pondering why everything Marvel has been releasing just sucks right now. Other than a few exceptions like Spider-Man: No Way Home, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3, and maybe Deadpool and Wolverine, everything else has either been very mid or just garbage.

Honestly, the guy couldn't give a flying fuck if it was nonsense or if they cast a transgender black person. It doesn't matter as long as they're written well and not trying to make him feel bad for being a guy.

Hell, they could put a gay sex scene in the movie, and while he would probably walk out of the theater until it ended, it wouldn't really bother him.

But no, Disney just has to go and piss off their fanbase by blaming everything on them. Like a majority of the fans hadn't been paying to watch every single movie until Endgame.

"You seem tense, friend. Want to talk about it?" The man at the bar turns around as he hears the question and sees an average-looking guy with black hair and what seemed like red eyes, but he's probably just imagining things.

"I mean, if you wanna argue the state of Marvel and the cinematic universe, then that's fine. Other than that, I don't have much to talk about." This seems to amuse the person as he sits down on the stool next to him.

"You seem very passionate about it. I assume you've been watching since the beginning." The man nods.

"Hell yeah, I've been there since the beginning. I even read some comics before the cinematic universe was a thing. Damn, that first Iron Man movie was magical, man. I do admit, I cried a bit at the end of Endgame." The mysterious person pats him on the back.

"Oh, trust me, I understand. You get connected with a character, and then when their contracts are up, they're just gone. They become your idols, someone to look up to." As they both take a drink, the man finds himself growing more and more tired.

"Yeah, Robert Downey Jr. was born to play that role. And just between you and me, I actually liked Chris Evans' work as the Human Torch, even before he became America's ass." The mysterious person looks almost offended at that statement.

"You actually liked those original Fantastic Four movies?" The man at the bar just sighs, knowing he's about to get into this conversation again.

"I mean, they weren't great, but the actors were decent. And you can't tell me Jessica Alba didn't look almost exactly like Susan Storm." In response to this, the mysterious man twirls his drink.

"I can respect that opinion. Now I have a question for you. If you could change one thing about the current cinematic universe, what would it be? And it has to be a universe-wide thing." The answer is obvious to the man at the bar.

"I'd save Tony Stark. The man died too soon. He deserved to watch his daughter grow up. I know he was a terrible person, probably one of the biggest assholes you'd ever meet, but unlike a lot of people, he changed. Over time, he made weapons of mass destruction and was an overall shit person before the cave, but I mostly blame that on his parents and his lifestyle. But I can only be an outsider looking in." The mysterious man seems almost impressed by the response.

"That was a quick answer and very heartfelt. I can almost feel the emotion over here. You idolize him, don't you?" The man at the bar gives him a look.

"I didn't have my father growing up, mostly just my mom. And when I first started watching those movies, I saw what I believed was someone I should aspire to be, other than the drug use and the heart problems. That, and when I saw that armor, it was a childhood dream of mine to fly in that suit." The mysterious man says nothing, but he listens, which the man at the bar appreciates.

"Sorry for going on so long. What's your name, by the way?" The mysterious man pours him a drink, which the man accepts, even though he really, really shouldn't have. It could be roofied, but he's incredibly drunk at this point.

"Nathan Lars Rockwood. But we're not here for me. To dreams, for they alone keep us sane." The two then toast, and as the man chugs the drink, he finds that it tastes really odd. As his eyes begin to close, he looks at the man, whose eyes are definitely glowing red.

"Good luck, you're going to need it. Say hi to the purple ball sack for me." Before the man can respond, his head hits the bar and then the floor. He knows no more.

(October 1st, Year 2000 AD)

(Chris Hansen POV)

Oh man, what did I drink last night?

But honestly, that question immediately goes out the window as I realize I can't move. Before I can start freaking out, I look at my hand, which is a lot tinier than I remember.

Before I can freak out even more, I look around and see babies nearby, and I hope to God, or the One Above All, or whoever the hell is up there, that I'm not in some kind of cloning facility like the ones Mr. Sinister has.

Soon enough, however, a nurse enters the room, and I'm picked up from my cradle. The fact that I am now a baby begins to sink in, along with how fucking cliché this is.

That also means I'm gonna be doing baby things.

Kill me now.

Before I can go into an existential crisis, I see who is essentially my mother, but due to the fact that my eyes haven't fully developed, it's more of a blur. But I can hear well enough.

"How are you, Miss Hansen?" the nurse asks.

"Doing better now that this little guy is out of my stomach." The woman grabs me from the nurse's arms, and as she pulls me closer, the view gets a lot clearer, and I have definitely been left to die.

That's Maya Hansen. So that means she must be under Killian's payroll right now. However, before I start looking around for any soldiers breathing fire, Maya pulls me close and simply hugs me.

"I'm so glad you're okay." Maya says this, almost on the verge of tears. I immediately stop moving and let her hold me, as she sounds really stressed.

Taking a deep breath, or as deep as I can with small baby lungs, I place my tiny hand on her arm, and her smile widens.

"By the way, ma'am, do you have any idea how we may contact the father?" The nurse's question causes Maya to scowl, but after a moment, she simply responds.

"There's no need. He's not in the picture. By the way, are you going to need to collect DNA from the baby?" The nurse shakes her head.

"You don't have to do it now. I understand that you want to be with him right now, but he'll need to go into the system eventually. You have 48 hours at most. I'll leave you two alone for a bit. I'll be right back." The nurse leaves the room as Maya seems to be thinking deeply. I am as well, trying to figure out who's kid I am.

"Definitely need to get rid of those records, but don't worry, little guy, you're gonna be okay." She says this softly, which I appreciate, as my ears are pretty sensitive right now.

But again, who dined and dashed on you? It definitely can't be who I'm thinking of. No way he would be that stupid.

This must be some kind of alternate universe or something.

However, before I can think on this further, a small gathering of lights turns into letters, forming a message.

[Greetings, Chris. This is your friendly neighborhood, random omnipotent being. I am here to inform you that yes, this universe is exactly what you're thinking of, but I'm not going to spoil anything. You'll have to figure that out on your own. I've given you a couple of things to help you out, but you won't be able to notice them for a while. Don't want your head to explode, after all. But don't worry, they'll be coming soon. And don't worry—I'm going to do you a favor, but that's all I'm going to tell you. Remember the big purple nut sack. I said hi.]

[Oh, and if you need a goal, you gave yourself one: keep Tony Stark alive. If you manage to do that, I'll have one final gift for you. Gotta give you some motivation, after all. And don't worry—I'm not gonna be bothering you much after this. I'm not one of those Random Omnipotent Voyeurs. May the force be with you.]

Soon after, the message disappears as if it was never there, but it does calm me down. I wouldn't even exist unless Rob somehow managed to get around the TVA. I hate those guys. I almost agree that they are basically the killers of any good MCU fanfiction.

They're basically the Contessa of the MCU.

But for now, I gotta focus on one thing at a time, like the fact that I no longer have any control over my bowels and that I'm most likely going to have to breastfeed.

Send me back, please!!! However, it seems like my fussiness has the exact opposite effect.

"It seems like someone's hungry. This is my first time doing this, so I hope I do everything correctly." She takes off the hospital gown—or at least the top part of it. I immediately feel like crying.

But if I'm going to survive, this is my first challenge.

Maximum effort.

(I'll try not to spend too much time on the main character being a baby, but it is going to be needed for a chapter or two.)