Ultimate DMC Sytem In Marvel

Pepper took a few steps closer, her heels clicking against the hangar floor. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the armor more closely—specifically, the jagged dents on the shoulder plates, the scorched grooves near the knee joints, and the faint, shimmering black cracks that pulsed subtly beneath the paint.

"What is this suit?" she asked finally, her voice low but firm. "Is it part of a new project?"

Tony hesitated. "Uh… technically, no. It's the Mark II, but I gave it a bit of a field update."

"A field update?" she repeated. "Because it looks like it was dragged through a war zone. And are those… bullet marks? Were you shot at?"

Tony raised his hands defensively. "Okay—yes, technically some very large-caliber weapons might have tried to punch holes in it. But the suit held up fine. I'm fine. Mostly."

Pepper gave him a look that could cut through armor more effectively than any missile Stark Industries had ever made. "You said you'd be working on stabilization protocols today. Instead, you vanish for hours, JARVIS goes silent, and now you come back wearing a modern knight's armor—with bullet holes in it."

"Ahem, it's not knight armor," Tony said, trying to sound casual. "It's a highly advanced super-soldier suit. Something I've been developing on the side. It's my Mark II—version seven, actually. And I designed it for myself. Not anyone else."

Pepper raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you weren't making any more weapons."

"I'm not. This isn't a weapon—not in the traditional sense," he said, his tone quickening. "Only I can use it. Think of it more like a personal defense system. A gun that thinks and breathes—but it's years ahead of its time."

Pepper folded her arms, voice sharpening. "Still… you tested it on yourself? What if one of those bullets had pierced through the armor?"

Tony looked away, his shoulders lowering just a little. "I know. I'm sorry."

That caught her off guard. Her face softened slightly, but her voice lowered, uncertain. "Who are you?"

Tony stayed silent for a moment, facing the scorched, dented armor. The man reflected in the metal didn't look entirely like the Tony she knew. The Tony she knew whould have boasted how its an powerful armor he made himself and won't get destroyed that easily.

"I don't know," he admitted softly. "But I know what I have to do. I wasn't trying to hide anything from you, Pep. It was just something… only I could do."

Pepper sighed, rubbing her temples. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out a slim tablet. "Fine. Here are the documents you need to review today," she said, placing it gently on the table beside the armor. "You've got three hours before the board wants updates on the Mars Project."

She turned to leave, heels tapping faintly on the steel floor, but her eyes lingered on the Mark II suit as she passed it. Her gaze was thoughtful—concerned—and filled with silent questions.

Tony stood there, still for a moment. Then, slowly, he sat down on the edge of the couch. His hand brushed over the glowing edge of the tablet screen, but his eyes drifted to the armor standing nearby.

Suddenly, a ripple shimmered in the air—and out of thin space, a floating eye with leathery wings emerged. It drifted forward like a silent wraith before gently perching on Tony's shoulder.

Its sclera glowed faintly violet, and its iris shimmered with threads of shadow.

Tony blinked, then smiled. "Hello, Spectra. Do you want something?" he asked, casually reaching up to rub the side of its smooth, leathery body.

Spectra let out a faint hum—half purr, half static pulse—and leaned into his touch, wings twitching softly.

"Right. You're definitely not a cat," Tony muttered with a chuckle, watching the floating demon-eye adjust its perch.

Then the eye blinked—and turned its gaze toward the tablet Pepper had left on the table.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Huh. You interested in my homework?"

He picked up the tablet and brought it closer. Instantly, Spectra's eye glowed brighter, and small tendrils of dark energy extended from beneath its wings, hovering over the screen. One by one, they traced across different parts of the document—scrolling through charts, financial logs, diagrams.

Tony watched, mildly stunned.

In under a minute, Spectra had highlighted multiple inconsistencies in the financial data, zoomed in on two key sectors in the Mars Project proposal, and rewrote one of the report headers using spectral light projections.

Tony slowly sat back. "Okay… so Alex wasn't exaggerating when he said you guys were smart."

Spectra blinked once more, then emitted a soft pulse that seemed like a pleased chirp.

Tony leaned closer, tapping one of the highlighted lines on the screen. "This… this is actually useful. I could get used to this."

He glanced sideways at Spectra. "I guess you're not just a fear-powered soul-eater, huh? You've got brains too."

Spectra blinked in what Tony could only interpret as a proud nod.

He smirked. "Alright, partner. Let's see what else you can do."

***

Back at Alex's personal home—not the towering Morrow Tower, but his quieter, more private residence nestled in a peaceful New York neighborhood—he sat quietly in the center of his study. The room was sleek and modern, with smooth wooden floors, large windows that let in the evening light, and minimalist furniture arranged with quiet purpose.

Zephyra leaned lazily against the wall near the bookshelf, her fingers sparking faintly as her lightning braid swayed with idle motion. Cypher stood across from her, arms crossed, her sharp crimson eyes fixed steadily on Alex. Even Mygarth, once more dressed in his elegant silver-trimmed white garments, stood silently near the doorway. The faint glow of his branded sigil pulsed dimly on his neck, marking his submission.

Alex closed the last folder on his desk and stretched slightly. "Alright, I've wrapped up the reports. Now let's begin."

Cypher tilted her head. "Begin what exactly? You dragged all of us in here while we were busy. Care to explain?"

Alex gave her a half-smile. "I just wanted to ask—do any of you have demon pets? Familiars?"

Zephyra raised an eyebrow. "You mean contracted companions? Sure, we've got them."

"Yeah," Mygarth added with a nod. "Most nobles do."

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