The First Kryptonian in Marvel

The real story about my rooftop showdown with Stark stayed buried under layers of polished lies. The news outlets, like vultures, ate up the fake narrative: Obadiah Stane, the iron-fisted chairman, supposedly dropped dead from a heart attack—just the price of ambition, they said. The media, hungry for drama, devoured it, then moved on to the next big scandal. Soon, the whole Stark Industries incident faded away, becoming just a faint urban legend whispered among those "in the know."

For me, though, that rooftop fight was just the beginning, the first act in a much bigger plan. Afterward, I quietly bought up a major stake in Stark Industries. When the stock price tanked, it was almost too easy to swoop in as an anonymous investor, thanks to a shell company and a little clever online maneuvering. Tony wouldn't recognize the name on the shareholder list, so for now, our contact was strictly digital. But I knew it wouldn't stay that way. Eventually, I'd need someone to play the "face" of my company, to handle the corporate side of things in person.

And Stark Industries wasn't the only place with "extra resources." With all the endless supplies Tony had, he wasn't going to notice a few "misplaced" tools and materials. Plus, newly purchased deeds for her brownstone and the adjacent one meant I could finally scratch "not enough space for all my projects" off my list. The Extension Charm had its limits after all. Those brownstones, now combined into a secure, reinforced unit, would be my urban fortress.

Among the core systems I built were:

Supercomputer: A state-of-the-art machine designed as a sleek, two-meter black cube. Synced with my AI, Navi, it expanded computational capabilities, freeing up processing power for complex tasks.

Quantum Computer: Built for high-level calculations and simulations, handling quantum-level operations that standard computers couldn't touch.

Matter Synthesizer: This highly experimental device, based on my Virtual Substance, could create matter from energy or raw materials, giving me the flexibility to produce components without relying on external suppliers. Mostly for personal usage.

Nanofabricator: Capable of constructing on a molecular scale, the nanofabricator allowed me to build intricate structures with remarkable precision.

Energy Conduit: A versatile network for channeling and manipulating various forms of energy to support both power needs and experimental setups.

Holographic Interface: A 3D interactive display for manipulating digital data, managing projects, and monitoring equipment.

Virtual Reality Workstation: An immersive environment for hands-on design and engineering, ideal for refining complex blueprints and simulations.

Defense Modifications: High-level security upgrades to transform the forge into an impenetrable fortress.

I also stocked up on essentials, the "basic" tools that made the Tech Forge fully functional:

3D Printer: For creating intricate components and prototypes on demand.

Laser Cutter: Perfect for precision cutting and engraving across various materials.

Forge: A high-powered forge for shaping metal, powered by advanced energy tech.

Lathe: Essential for crafting cylindrical pieces, from drive shafts to intricate mechanical parts.

Milling Machine: A tool for precise cutting and shaping of metals and other materials.

Welding Torch: For fusing metal parts with high durability.

Grinder: To polish, smooth, and shape surfaces as needed.

Workbench: A heavy-duty workspace for assembly and repairs.

Tool Chest: Stocked with every hand tool imaginable, from hammers to wrenches.

All of this was powered by an upgraded reactor—a modified version of the Iron Monger's design. Tony Stark's genius in reactor tech had been my starting point, but I'd pushed its limits, refining and expanding its capacity to power the full scope of my Tech Forge Haven.

...

That evening, after devouring seventy percent of the scavenged materials, I finally wrapped up my relentless tinkering. Satisfied with my first step completed, a thought about Stark surfaced. Figured it was time to visit him again.

I materialized behind Tony once more, catching him mid-work in his Tech Forge. He barely flinched – maybe he'd resigned himself to my sudden, ghostly appearances. The familiar whir of machinery filled the air, punctuated by the rhythmic clinks of metal against metal.

"Good grief, woman! Ever heard of a doorbell?" he groaned, slumping back in his chair. It was the third time I'd slipped past his defenses like a shadow. "At least knock or something!"

"Knocking wouldn't get me past your ever-escalating security system," I replied, unapologetically. Perching casually on the edge of a dented workbench, I popped open a small box, revealing a handful of replacement energy core chips for his reactor.

Tony's eye twitched, and I could practically hear his thoughts simmering beneath that outward cool. "If you know you're not welcome, why the constant visits?"

"It's not a good habit to mess with other people's stuff," he muttered under his breath, watching me handle one of the delicate chips with casual indifference.

"Speed up that new reactor, Stark," I replied, brushing off his complaint. "This old one isn't cutting it."

He shot me a look. "And what exactly would incentivize me to build a brand new reactor?" He eyed the chip in my hand with an edge of concern. "Also, could you please put that chip down? They're delicate, requiring specialized storage to prevent degradation."

I shrugged, still toying with the chip. "Well, you're not exactly glowing with health, are you?" I replied, letting my voice take on a mocking edge. "Palladium poisoning. Tick-tock, Stark. Unless you fancy a dirt nap, a new reactor's your only hope."

He narrowed his eyes, suspicion thick in his voice. "How did you even figure that out?"

"Elementary, my dear Stark," I smirked, enjoying the slight spark of irritation in his eyes. "I've got one of your reactors in my possession. Calculating your little predicament wasn't exactly rocket science. Need a hand with the new one? For a price, of course."

He turned away, muttering something under his breath. "I can handle it myself. No big deal."

"Suit yourself." I shrugged as if it didn't matter to me either way. "But you might want to look into your dear old dad's secrets. Howard Stark's legacy goes beyond a bulging bank account."

Before he could ask more, I vanished as silently as I'd arrived. Keeping Stark alive wasn't just a personal interest – he was a critical cog in the grand scheme. If this reality followed the movie's trajectory, I couldn't afford to lose such a vital player.

...

Later that night, I emerged from the steam-filled bathroom, a damp towel draped forlornly over my head. The TV blared in the background, flashing a headline about Stark Industries' stock price rebounding after hitting rock bottom. "Speaking of stock prices," I muttered, "how's our bank account looking, Ava?"

Glancing at the screen, I caught a new segment showing smoke billowing from Lady Liberty's crown. Not exactly pressing for me. I grabbed the remote, flicked through channels, and settled on a music station playing something vaguely upbeat.

A high-pitched chirp from the Ava pod on the table jolted me, and a holographic display flickered to life on the TV. It looked like some kind of weird, otherworldly ATM, with cryptic symbols only I could decipher. My stomach dropped as I scanned the numbers.

"Damn," I muttered, feeling my bank account die a little. There goes the Stark Industries investment, the brownstone next door, and the absurd cost of merging them into a single, livable house. Not to mention the basement Tech Forge I'd decked out with what I called "basic tools," which was code for "top-secret tech that probably shouldn't be in a house."

Oh, and then there's my Pagani Zonda R—because a girl's gotta stay stylish. And my new wardrobe, which practically screamed "Look at me!"

Millions. Just… vanished.

"Guess it's time to dust off my shell company, Krypton Technologies," I sighed. Funds were getting low. I'd need a fresh income stream, and fast.

The tech I'd brought with me was a mixed bag. Some gadgets were light-years ahead of the market; others, the serious weapon-grade stuff, were practically from the future. But that wasn't the real issue.

Selling this stuff outright? Yeah, right. The red tape alone—patents, licensing, endless piles of paperwork—would be a bureaucratic nightmare. And let's be real, who's going to take an unknown young woman seriously if she suddenly starts hawking high-grade weaponry? I guess I might need to use my 'real name' at some point.

Frustration bubbled up, and I let out a huff. "Screw it. I'll manufacture equipment for the military. Perfect, now that Stark's out of the game." A grin crept onto my face. "That's the ticket. Time to tap into the dark side of Wall Street."

Turning to Ava, I commanded, "Find me some small metalworking shops. We need parts. Lots of them. Keep it discreet. Spread the orders around – no need to raise eyebrows. We have the blueprints, right?"

A chirp from Ava confirmed it. "Good. Pay them generously, under the table if needed. Speed is key. Split up the orders across different shops – circuit boards, etching tools, no we already have those, chips, everything. We don't have time for delays."

After barking my orders at Ava, I turned off the TV, welcoming the quiet that followed. I rifled through the drawers in the entertainment center, muttering about pens and paper like I was searching for buried treasure. Finally, I found a dusty notepad and a ballpoint pen that sputtered out ink like it was on its last breath.

"Multilayer circuit boards," I mumbled, jotting down a list against the backdrop of my cluttered apartment. "Right. How am I supposed to pull this off without a team?" 

Sketching out a rough plan, I glanced at Ava. "Listen up, little buddy. After you're done with those machine shop orders, check our funds. Enough left for a quick shopping spree, maybe?"

A chirp signaled that the message was received.

"Great," I said, my eyes flashing with renewed determination. "Next stop, the nearest black market supplier. We'll pick up supplies after breakfast." I eyed the blueprint taking shape on the table – circuit boards were only step one. Engines, thrusters, weapon mods...the list spun in my mind like a glitchy centrifuge.

"Alright, Ava," I continued, frustration edging my tone. "Can you copy existing code? Because if not, you're in for some serious retraining. Toilet brush duty isn't a good look for either of us."

The chirp that followed came out in a rapid, almost frantic sequence. It held a hint of panic, and I smirked, finding a twisted sort of satisfaction in it.

...

Sweat-damp blond hair clung stubbornly to my forehead despite the cool air swirling through the chaotic Tech Forge. I wrestled with the metal box before me, wrench in hand, the overhead fluorescent lights casting a sharp glare on my work.

Finally, with a satisfied grunt, I stepped back, surveying the silver box that had, until recently, been a heap of scavenged parts. Now it looked like a sleek, futuristic weapon. A month of sleepless nights, questionable construction methods that had my neighbors banging on the door, and a nearly toasted toaster oven had all led to this: my prototype combat drone.

I connected Ava's wires to the box, hands moving on autopilot. Peeling off the greasy overalls, I glanced at the scorched remains of the couch in the corner of the basement workshop—a silent victim of my latest engineering exploits. With a deep breath, I plopped onto the damp cushions, booting up my laptop. Watching the numbers on the screen climb, I knew this project would decide the next steps in my plan.

"Initiate startup. Begin self-check," I commanded, straightening up. A low hum pulsed through the drone as its metallic sides shifted, unfolding like some startled insect's wings. Relief flooded me, quickly chased by a stream of curses as the thrusters roared unexpectedly to life. Flames erupted across the floor, charring the carpet and setting off a blaring alarm. Within seconds, a sprinkler geyser doused both me and the drone in a cold, relentless spray.

I glared at the drone's camera lens, already bracing for the fire department's inevitable lecture and the fine that was sure to follow. Hanging up the phone after a quick, clipped conversation, I turned back to the machine. A well-aimed kick sent it skidding across the flooded floor, and I heard a satisfying crack as one of its thrusters broke off.

"Double damn it," I grumbled, shaking my head. "Gotta remember to control my strength… or, you know, not kick things."

Three hours later, I tackled the watery mess with a mop and a grimace, the singed carpet a silent testament to my chaotic night. Squeezing out the mop, I turned to Ava. "Find me some angel investors with deep pockets. No amateurs; we're aiming for a war chest—thirty million at least. Look for several options."

I paused, considering. "And schedule a meeting with them here in three days. Attach the startup video of the drone—send them the footage of its almost-disastrous first flight. Make sure they get that flash isn't what we're after."

Ava chirped in acknowledgment, and I glanced around the wrecked Tech Forge with a sigh. "And while you're at it, find a moving company."

...

Across town, a chime echoed in a sleek Wall Street office. A middle-aged man with a shock of blond hair leaned back, a grin spreading as he clicked on the email. "Looks like we've hit the jackpot," he murmured. He was an angel investor with a taste for high-risk, high-reward projects—a kingmaker in the world of innovation.

As he watched the drone video, his eyes widened with interest. Its sleek design and raw power were impossible to ignore. "Three days, huh?" he mused, a predatory glint flashing in his gaze. "Kara Vasílissa, something tells me this meeting will be… very interesting."

The same video pinged in inboxes all over the city. Reactions from investors ranged from amusement to intrigue, but one thing was constant: they all sensed the same undeniable potential.