Ben 10/MCU: Under Going Editing

Tony and Pepper were back in Tony's Rolls Royce Phantom, driven by Tony's head of security Happy Hogan. As it glided through the streets of New York. Tony was uncharacteristically quiet, tapping away on his holographic interface as data from the M-Xara's test synced with his personal systems.

" So, how did it go. " Happy asked as he looked through the rear view mirror, at Tony and Pepper. " I'd say it went really well all things considered. " Pepper answered for the both of them.

"Or what did you think," Pepper said casually, breaking Tony's thought as turn to back at Pepper. "What did you think of Tennyson's toy?"

Tony smirked. "Not bad. Smart kid, sharp tech. But he's got a long way to go before he's playing in the big leagues. The integration with their ecosystem? That's where they're ahead. Makes me think we need to start revamping Stark tech for consumers again."

Pepper glanced at him, her tone carefully neutral. "Maybe. But it sounds like he's already looking beyond vehicles."

Tony paused, looking at her over his sunglasses. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Pepper hesitated, debating whether to share Angela's accidental confession during their conversation. Finally, she sighed. "Angela mentioned—offhand, of course—that Ben's been talking about space. Rockets, and satellite. It's not official, but it's definitely on his radar."

Tony lowered his glasses, his expression shifting to one of intrigue. "Rockets, huh? Space? That's a big leap from phones and electric cars. He really thinks he can play astronaut?"

"He's ambitious," Pepper said carefully. "And you know as well as I do that ambition has a way of turning into reality, especially for people like you and Ben."

Tony leaned back, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Space isn't just ambition; it's the ultimate tech playground. Energy systems, propulsion, AI—all the big toys in one sandbox. If he's serious about this, he could disrupt a lot of industries. Including mine."

"Or," Pepper countered, "it could be an opportunity. If you collaborated—"

Tony waved her off. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Collaboration's cute when it's about electric cars, but space? That's a different ballgame."

Pepper frowned. "Just don't go turning this into a rivalry, Tony. Tennyson's not trying to compete with you. Not yet, anyway."

Tony's smirk returned. "We'll see. Let's just say I'll be keeping an eye on young Mr. Tennyson. Space is a big place, but it's not big enough for two egos like ours."

Pepper rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "Here we go…"

As the car merged onto the highway, Tony's mind was already racing with possibilities—and challenges.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over New York's skyline as Ben Tennyson entered his office. Angela Green was already there, perched on the edge of the leather sofa with a tablet in hand. A coffee mug sat on the table beside her, steam curling lazily into the air.

"Well, that was… something," Ben said, shrugging off his leather jacket and tossing it over a chair.

Angela raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk. "That's one way to put it. I'd call it a productive circus act."

Ben dropped into his chair and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "Tony Stark is exactly as advertised—loud, self-absorbed, and full of himself."

"And yet," Angela interjected, setting the tablet down, "he knows his stuff. You can't deny the man's a genius."

"True," Ben admitted, leaning forward with a thoughtful look. "But it's Pepper who's the real powerhouse. She had every angle of that deal mapped out before we even walked in."

Angela nodded. "She's sharp—and surprisingly easy to talk to once you get past the corporate armor. We might actually be able to work with them, provided Stark doesn't blow something up first."

Ben laughed. "Yeah, that's always a risk. Honestly, though, I didn't expect the M-Xara to impress him as much as it did. Watching him behind the wheel… for a second, I thought he was going to offer to buy the company just to keep the car."

Angela tilted her head, studying him. "So, what's your takeaway? Do we move forward with the collaboration?"

Ben drummed his fingers on the desk, his expression turning contemplative. "I think we should. Stark Industries has established itself as a clean energy leader and is slowly expanding into the consumer market. They need something big to solidify their new image, and electric vehicles could be that 'something.' If we play this right, the M-Xara could redefine the market."

Angela leaned back, folding her arms. "Fair point. But what about the arc reactor? Did you notice how Pepper kept steering the conversation back to charging stations?"

Ben nodded, his tone growing serious. "Yeah. Stark's not going to hand over arc reactor tech—that's their crown jewel, and it powers more than just clean energy. It's what keeps Tony alive and runs the Iron Man armor. But I think I see where they're heading."

Angela frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"They're thinking bigger," Ben explained. "Imagine a network of charging stations powered by large-scale arc reactors—the kind Stark demonstrated in that prototype facility back in the day. Not the miniaturized version in his chest, but the industrial reactors. It could revolutionize EV infrastructure. No more traditional grids or slow charging times—just nearly limitless clean energy."

Angela raised an eyebrow. "So Stark Industries builds the charging network, and we integrate the M-Xara and its ecosystem into it?"

"Exactly," Ben replied. "It's a win-win. Stark Industries gets to flex their clean energy dominance, and we push the M-Xara as the first EV fully optimized for their system. It's ambitious, but it could work."

Angela's lips curled into a smile. "Ambitious is your middle name. So, what's the next step?"

Ben leaned back in his chair, a faint grin playing at his lips. "We make the pitch. But we tread carefully. Stark's a genius, but he's not the kind of guy you want to underestimate—or compete with, for that matter."

Angela chuckled softly. "No pressure, then."

The conversation as Angela sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "It's risky. If we get too reliant on their tech, we're putting a lot of power in Stark's hands."

"True," Ben admitted. "But the potential benefits are worth the gamble. Besides, we'd still have our ecosystem advantage. The M-Xara is designed to seamlessly integrate with our smartphones, smartwatches, and laptops. Even with the arc reactor tech, Stark can't replicate that kind of synergy."

Angela gave a slow nod. "Good point. But one step at a time. Let's see how Stark handles the next round of talks before we start sketching blueprints."

Ben chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Fair enough. Oh, and speaking of talks… when I was chatting with Tony, I might've caught him eyeing our smartwatch. He was trying to play it cool, but I think he was genuinely impressed."

Angela smirked. "Impressed enough to stop mocking your 'quirky branding'?"

Ben laughed. "Maybe not yet. But give it time. The M-Xara and the ecosystem will win him over—just wait."

As the city lights began to twinkle outside the window, the two settled into a more relaxed discussion, the weight of the meeting giving way to cautious optimism for the future.

Ben leaned back in his chair, glancing out the window at the bustling cityscape. "So, where do we stand on the company front? The numbers looking good?"

Angela crossed her legs and grabbed her tablet, scrolling through the latest reports. "Solid, but not without challenges. Our consumer tech—smartphones, laptops, and smartwatches—continue to dominate the market. The M-Xara prototype is generating a lot of buzz after the unveiling, but with the launch slated for next year, there's still plenty of work to be done."

Ben nodded, a slight grin forming on his lips. "That's expected. Prototypes are meant to stir interest, not solve all the problems upfront. What's the feedback so far?"

Angela scrolled through her notes. "Mostly positive. People love the design and the integration with our ecosystem. The smart dashboard syncing with Tennyson smartphones is a big hit. The main concerns are around production scalability and charging infrastructure."

Ben smirked. "We've got time to iron those out. Anything else?"

Angela hesitated, setting the tablet down. "Well… there's something I should probably mention. During the meeting with Pepper, I might've let slip that you're thinking about launching rockets into space."

Ben raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "And?"

Angela blinked. "And… that's it? You're not worried?"

Ben chuckled, shaking his head. "Angela, if that's your big confession, I think we're fine. Honestly, it's not a bad thing. Let Stark or anyone else know we're not afraid to aim high—literally."

Angela frowned. "But we're still in the conceptual phase, Ben. If word gets out too early, it could put unnecessary pressure on us or attract unwanted attention."

Ben leaned back again, completely unfazed. "Pressure's part of the game. Let them watch; it'll only make it sweeter when we pull it off. Besides, Pepper doesn't strike me as the type to spill trade secrets. If anything, she probably respects the ambition."

Angela studied him for a moment, then sighed. "You're impossible, you know that? Always so sure of yourself."

Ben grinned. "Not impossible. Just confident. We didn't build Tennyson Industries by staying in our lane. The M-Xara, the rockets—when we move, we move big. That's why we're here."

Angela couldn't help but smile. "Fair enough. For what it's worth, Pepper did seem intrigued. Maybe even impressed. But we've got to focus on getting the M-Xara ready for launch next year. Production scalability is going to be our biggest challenge."

Ben nodded. "Noted. Let start scouting location to build more manufacturing factors get Yuki on the phone. Schedule a meeting tomorrow morning with his team, while you talk with Mary to about more land acquisition."

Ben paused, before continuing. " And we'll need to keep an eye on the charging infrastructure. The arc reactor tech Stark mentioned could be a game-changer if we can leverage it."

Angela made notes on her tablet. "I'll get the team working on that. And Ben? Thanks for not blowing up about the slip. I promise it won't happen again."

Ben waved her off. "Don't sweat it. I trust you, Angela. You've got good instincts, even if you let a few secrets out now and then."

Angela smirked, raising her coffee mug in a mock toast. "To secrets and prototypes."

Ben chuckled, clinking his water bottle against her mug. "And to the next big thing."

Scene: The Crimson Dojo – New York City

The room was dimly lit, illuminated only by the faint red glow of torches lining the stone walls. In the center, Wilson Fisk, towering and menacing, stood shirtless, his body gleaming with sweat. Around him, a circle of Hand ninjas closed in, their blades glinting ominously.

"Again," the Hand's instructor commanded, his voice cold and sharp like steel.

Fisk exhaled heavily, raising his massive fists. He was a man unaccustomed to taking orders, but he complied. The ninjas lunged in unison, their movements blurring as they attacked. Fisk roared, using his brute strength to swat away two attackers while spinning to disarm a third with a vicious blow to the wrist. A fourth ninja leapt from behind, only for Fisk to grab him mid-air and slam him into the stone floor with bone-crushing force.

One by one, he struck them down, his sheer power overwhelming their precision. But just as quickly as they fell, the Hand ninjas began to stir, their bodies twisting unnaturally as they rose to their feet, seemingly unaffected by the damage.

Fisk wiped his brow, glaring at the instructor. "You didn't tell me they'd get back up."

The instructor smirked, his face partially hidden beneath his crimson hood. "Death is a mere inconvenience for those who serve the Beast. You will learn this in time."

Fisk's fists tightened. He didn't appreciate being toyed with, but he had to admit—there was power in what he was witnessing. Power he intended to wield.

"Enough," the instructor said, motioning for the ninjas to retreat. "You've proven your strength. But brute force alone will not elevate you within the Hand. Discipline. Obedience. Strategy. These will be your true weapons."

Fisk stepped forward, his presence dominating the room. "I've come this far without them. Don't mistake me for a pawn in your little game."

The instructor's smirk widened. "And yet, here you are."

Before Fisk could retort, a door on the far side of the dojo opened, revealing a figure clad in a sleek black suit. Black Tarantula strode in, his piercing eyes scanning the room with an air of authority.

"Am I interrupting?" he asked, his tone smooth but laced with menace.

The instructor bowed slightly. "Not at all. We were just finishing."

Fisk straightened, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel. "Tarantula. You're early."

Black Tarantula chuckled, stepping into the room. "Punctuality is a virtue in our line of work. Shall we discuss tonight's plans?"

Fisk nodded, gesturing toward a side chamber. The two men moved into a private room adorned with ancient scrolls and weapons displayed along the walls.

"Everything is set," Fisk began, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. "The masquerade will bring together representatives from every major syndicate in the city. Yakuza, Maggia, the Russian mob—you name it."

Tarantula leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "And they're expecting an offer they can't refuse. Are you prepared to deliver?"

Fisk smirked. "With the Hand's backing, they'll fall in line. If not, well… let's just say the demonstration I've arranged will leave an impression."

Tarantula's eyes narrowed. "A demonstration is risky. Too much noise, and it draws unwanted attention—heroes, police, and others who might meddle in our affairs."

"The Hand operates in shadows," Fisk countered. "But sometimes, the shadows need to remind the light who's really in control."

Tarantula didn't reply immediately. Instead, he reached into his jacket and produced a small, ornate box. "You'll need more than fear to unify these factions. This artifact will help. The Hand believes it to be tied to the Black Sky's awakening."

Fisk's expression darkened with curiosity as he opened the box, revealing a small, obsidian figurine etched with ancient runes.

"This will be at the center of tonight's demonstration," Tarantula continued. "But tread carefully, Fisk. The Hand's patience is not infinite. Fail to bring these syndicates under control, and they'll see you as expendable."

Fisk slammed the box shut, his confidence unshaken. "I don't fail. Tonight, New York's underworld bends the knee—or it burns."

Black Tarantula studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Then I'll see you tonight."

As Tarantula turned to leave, the Hand's instructor reappeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"Remember, Fisk," the instructor said quietly. "You are not yet one of us. Do not mistake the Hand's tolerance for trust."

Fisk's glare could have cut through stone, but he said nothing, watching as the instructor and Black Tarantula disappeared into the shadows.

Left alone, Fisk downed his whiskey in one gulp, the obsidian figurine still clutched in his hand.

"Trust," he muttered to himself, a sinister grin spreading across his face. "Trust is earned. Fear is immediate."