Chapter 3: Uncovering Truths

Weeks flew by, blending into one another as Max juggled school, his hidden projects, and the completion of the second Stargate. The secret space station he had begun constructing in orbit around the Earth was also coming along steadily. Every now and then, he would teleport up to the site, adding pieces and refining his designs. The stars, always visible through the Jumper's transparent windows, seemed to glow brighter with each new addition.

But it wasn't just the Stargates that consumed Max's time. He had also been focusing on something more personal. His mind frequently wandered back to his mother, who had died giving birth to him in this life. She had left behind no clues about who his father might have been, and for most of Max's life, the question of his parentage had remained unanswered. But now, with his access to various databases that he had discreetly hacked over the years, the desire to know grew stronger. Whenever he wasn't working on the Stargates or other small projects, he found himself running searches, comparing information, scanning for any sign of family.

It was an obsession born from curiosity, a way to fill the gaps in his life.

One evening, Max returned home from school and teleported directly into his main house. It was quiet as usual, just the hum of machines and the faint glow of his high-tech systems keeping him company. As he made his way to the computer, something unusual caught his eye. A notification blinked on the screen, a sign that the latest search had turned up a result. He approached the console, his heart racing. It was rare for the system to find anything substantial.

Max sat down and pulled up the search result. For a moment, he simply stared at the name in front of him, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing.

Tony Stark.

Tony Stark. The genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. The man currently missing in Afghanistan, according to the news. Max's father.

It didn't make sense at first. Why Tony Stark? As far as Max knew, Stark had never publicly acknowledged any children, and his lifestyle didn't seem conducive to raising one, either. But as Max dug deeper, the timeline began to make sense. His mother must have met Tony shortly after the tragic deaths of Stark's parents. It was a dark period for the man—a time when Tony was likely drowning his grief in alcohol and distractions. Max wondered if Tony even remembered his mother. Probably not, given the state he was likely in back then.

Sitting back in his chair, Max let out a long breath. The shock of the revelation hit him hard. Stark was his father. The truth left him both stunned and conflicted. For years, Max had imagined what his father might be like—a man he could look up to, someone strong and reliable. And now? Tony Stark was a hero, sure, but a deeply flawed one. He wasn't the perfect figure Max had pictured.

And yet, the discovery changed everything.

If Max hadn't known that Tony was his father, he probably would have let things play out as they were meant to. Stark would build the Mark I suit, escape his captors, and become Iron Man without Max's interference. But now that he knew? He couldn't just sit by and do nothing. The stakes were different. He had to intervene.

The next few days were spent searching for Tony in Afghanistan. Max knew that Stark's escape was close, and he wanted to be there when it happened. Using his cloaked Puddle Jumper, Max scoured the desert landscape, using every tracking tool at his disposal. On the second day, he finally located Tony's position.

The Jumper hovered invisibly above the mountains where Stark was being held. Max landed the ship in a hidden valley not far from the camp and exited, leaving the Jumper cloaked. As he stepped out into the night, he activated his personal shield device. The small, wrist-mounted device had been a recent project of his, and with a few modifications, it could now render him invisible. While Max could have easily used magic to stay hidden, he wanted to do this without relying on spells. It was important to show Stark that he had practical, tangible ways to help, not just mysterious powers.

The night was still, the only sounds coming from the distant campfires and the occasional murmur of guards. Max activated his life-sign detector, scanning for Stark's signal. He moved silently through the rocky terrain, making his way toward the cave where Stark and Yinsen were being held captive.

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the night, the ground trembling beneath Max's feet. His heart raced. He had hoped to arrive earlier, to catch Stark before his escape attempt. But now, it seemed he was right in the middle of it. The blast could only mean one thing: Stark had activated the Mark I suit.

Max sprinted toward the camp, pushing himself to move faster. He could see the glow of fire in the distance, hear the shouts of the panicked terrorists. Just as he reached the edge of the camp, he saw them—Stark, in his bulky, makeshift armor, and Yinsen, stumbling through the chaos.

Then he saw something else. Yinsen was about to getting hit. 

With no time to think, Max raised his hand and cast Protego. The shield spell flared to life around Yinsen, but it was hurried, and he hadn't been able to cast it properly. The gunfire had struck him, and he collapsed to the ground.

 The bullets had already torn through the first layers of the shield. Though the projectiles were stopped from doing lethal damage, Yinsen still took a hard hit. The bullets shattered against his body, leaving deep bruises and what Max feared were cracked ribs.

Yinsen lay on the ground, groaning in pain, while Stark turned toward him, horrified. Max, still invisible, stood beside them, feeling the weight of his failure. He hadn't acted fast enough.

"Yinsen!" Tony shouted, kneeling beside the injured man.

The dialogue unfolded just as Max had seen in the movie—Stark, desperate and panicked, Yinsen offering his dying words. Only Yinsen wasn't dying. Not this time.

Max took a deep breath and deactivated his invisibility. "He's not going to die," he said softly, stepping forward.

Both Yinsen and Stark turned to look at him, shocked by the sudden appearance of a stranger. Stark instinctively raised his flamethrower, pointing it at Max. His eyes were wild, a mixture of fear and adrenaline coursing through him.

"Who the hell are you?" Tony demanded, his voice sharp.

Max raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm here to help," he said calmly, though his heart was still racing from the tension. "I can explain everything, but first, you should know—Yinsen's not going to die. The bullets didn't penetrate his skin. He'll have some bruises, maybe a few broken ribs, but he's going to live."

Stark narrowed his eyes, not lowering the flamethrower. "You've got about ten seconds to tell me who you are and why I shouldn't fry you right now."

"I'm not with the terrorists, if that's what you're thinking," Max said quickly. "I'm here to get both of you out of here."

Tony hesitated, his gaze flicking between Yinsen, who was breathing but clearly in pain, and Max, who looked far too young to be involved in anything like this. "You're American," Tony observed, his voice laced with suspicion. "Who sent you?"

"No one sent me," Max said, stepping closer to Yinsen. "I came on my own. You're running out of time, Tony. We need to get out of here, fast."

Tony turns his head, protected in the Mark 1 mask, towards Max.

Tony's eyes widened slightly at the use of his first name. "How do you know my name?"

"I know a lot of things," Max replied. "But right now, none of that matters. I'll explain everything once we're safe. You just need to trust me for a few minutes. Let me help."

There was a long pause, the tension palpable in the air. Stark was clearly weighing his options, but the chaos of the camp was growing louder. The terrorists were regrouping, and it wouldn't be long before they came after Stark again.

"Fine," Tony said, his voice grudging. "But if you try anything, you're getting toasted. Understand?"

Max nodded. "Understood. Just stay close."

Tony, still reluctant, turned back to Yinsen. "Stay with him. I'm going to take care of the rest of these guys."

Max knelt beside Yinsen, carefully assessing his injuries. Tony, trusting the boy for now, moved back into the camp, his makeshift Iron Man suit stomping heavily as he fired at the retreating terrorists. Explosions echoed in the distance as Tony made his way through the camp, wreaking havoc on the enemy's supply stores.

Minutes passed, and Tony returned, breathing heavily. "They're pulling back," he said, his voice strained. "We need to go. Now."

Max helped Yinsen to his feet, supporting the older man as they made their way out of the camp. Tony followed close behind, pausing only to ignite the stockpile of weapons and explosives left behind by the terrorists. A massive explosion lit up the sky as they hurried away, but they were far enough from the blast to avoid any danger.

Just as they reached a safe distance, Tony's suit malfunctioned, sending him crashing into the sand. Max rushed over, helping him to his feet.

Tony groaned, brushing sand off his damaged suit. "This thing was never meant to fly for long," he muttered.

"You're lucky it flew at all," Max replied, glancing back toward the camp. "You're not going to collect the remains of your suit?"

Tony shook his head. "No point. It's trashed, and I'll build something better once we're back. Right now, I just want to get out of here."

Max led them to the Puddle Jumper, which was still cloaked. As they approached the seemingly empty desert, Tony frowned, his skepticism returning. "You're taking us to an empty patch of sand?"

Max smiled slightly. "Not exactly." With a wave of his hand, the door to the Puddle Jumper opened, revealing the interior of the ship. Tony's eyes widened in shock, and even Yinsen managed a weak smile despite his pain.

"Okay," Tony said, clearly impressed. "You've got my attention. This thing is invisible?"

Max nodded, stepping inside. "Completely invisible. You ready to go?"

Tony glanced around, still processing the surreal turn of events. "Yeah, let's get the hell out of here."

The three of them climbed into the ship, settling into the seats. As Max prepared to take off, Tony finally broke the silence. "Alright, kid. You've done a hell of a job so far. But now it's time for some answers. Who are you, really? And where the hell did you get this thing?"

Max took a deep breath, starting up the ship's systems as they lifted off the ground. "My name's Max," he began. "And I built this ship myself. No one sent me—no government, no agency. I came because… well, I found out something recently that made me want to help you."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

Max glanced at Tony, feeling the weight of the truth pressing down on him. "I was running a search recently," he said carefully. "Looking for any relatives I might have. And… I found something. It turns out you're my father, Tony."

Tony stared at Max, stunned into silence. After a long pause, he finally spoke. "You're serious?"

"Yeah," Max replied. "I know it's a lot to take in, but it's true. I wouldn't have come if I wasn't sure."

Tony leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable. "Well, shit," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "Of all the things that could've happened today…"

Max watched him, unsure of what to say next. He had imagined this moment in so many different ways, but none of them had gone like this.

After a moment, Tony let out a short, humorless laugh. "So, let me get this straight. I've got a son who just happens to be a genius with an invisible spaceship, and you came all the way to Afghanistan to rescue me?"

"Pretty much," Max said with a small smile.

Tony shook his head, still processing. "Okay, kid. You've got my attention. Let's talk."