MHA: UltraMan

The classroom buzzed with energy, laughter and excited voices filling the air as students eagerly showed off their quirks. Sparks crackled, miniature whirlwinds spun through the air, and flashes of glowing light flickered across the room.

Amid the chaos, Jackson Rogers sat hunched over his desk, completely absorbed in his sketchbook. His pencil moved with precision, tracing the sleek red-and-white design of a suit, its inspiration unmistakably drawn from Tony Stark's armor. The world around him faded, his focus locked on every detail.

Then—movement. A shadow crept over his paper.

Before he could react, the sketchbook was snatched from his hands.

"Hey!" Jackson's head snapped up, eyes wide.

A few feet away, Uta flipped through the pages, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Ooooh, what do we have here?"

"Uta! Give it back!" Jackson shot up from his seat, lunging toward her.

She let out a playful giggle, effortlessly dodging as she held the sketchbook just out of reach. "Come on, Jackson, let me see!"

After a few moments of teasing, she finally returned his sketchbook just as the teacher walked in. The classroom instantly fell into order, students scrambling back to their seats.

As the lecture began, Uta leaned closer, whispering, "So, what were you even drawing?"

Jackson puffed out his chest slightly, a proud grin forming. "My hero costume."

"Oh?" Uta smirked. "And what's your hero name gonna be, huh?"

With unwavering determination, Jackson declared, "Wonderman."

For a second, Uta just stared at him—then burst into laughter, nearly doubling over. "That's terrible!" she gasped between giggles.

Jackson frowned. "What? No, it's not!"

"Ultraman sounds way cooler," she teased, wiping a tear from her eye.

The roar of the ocean waves merged with the steady hum of the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier's engines, punctuated by the landing and takeoff of Quinjets. Jackson stood by the railing, his gaze locked on the endless stretch of water before him. The salty breeze tugged at his hair, but it was the memories flooding his mind that drew a smile across his face. The carefree moments of his childhood, untouched by the chaos of the present, felt like a distant refuge, offering him a brief escape from the weight of everything around him.

A voice called out, snapping him from his thoughts.

"Hey, Jackson!" 

He turned to see Agent Bradford approaching, his old friend from the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy. Bradford's well-built frame filled out his classic black suit perfectly. His red hair was neatly styled into a sharp fade, giving him a polished yet approachable look.

As Bradford approached, another figure followed in his wake. Towering and commanding, she was impossible to miss. Long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, flowing like a golden banner behind her. A red mask concealed her eyes but did nothing to hide the fierce determination in her gaze. Her cape, patterned with bold red and white stripes, billowed dramatically, draping over powerful shoulders. The vibrant gold and blue of her uniform gleamed under the sunlight, each piece of armor polished to perfection. She stood like a living symbol, the embodiment of American power and justice.

Jackson took a steady step forward, locking eyes with the towering figure before him.

"Jackson, this is Star and Stripes," Bradford introduced, his voice steady.

Without hesitation, Jackson extended his hand, a firm but measured gesture. She met it with equal strength, their grips like a silent challenge. They stood there for a moment, neither willing to break eye contact, each silently gauging the other's strength.

The tension lingered, until a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Strong grip," she remarked, her tone both impressive and playful.

Jackson returned the smirk, his eyes gleaming with confidence. "Comes with the name."

She laughed, letting go of his hand. "Confident, are we? We should spar sometime—see who's stronger," she said, her grin widening as she stepped back, clearly amused.

Before Jackson could respond, a voice cut through the moment. "Hey, now!" A new figure emerged—a man with a black eye patch and a steely, unamused expression. "You two aren't sparrin' on this carrier. The last thing we need is this whole damn thing coming down." Nick Fury's voice was sharp, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he assessed the scene.

"Director, sir," Bradford said, snapping to attention, his feet coming together in a sharp salute.

"Agent Bradford, head down to the deck. We're hitting the air," Fury ordered.

Fury glanced at him briefly before turning back to the group. "Ms. Bate, are you staying?"

"Nah, Director. I'm catching a flight out." 

"Well, then," Fury said with a wave, turning toward the helicarrier's entrance, "It was nice talking with you. See ya."

Star glanced down at him, her height making her presence even more imposing. With a mischievous grin, she said, "Nice meeting you, Ultraman. Heard a lot about you from your teachers." Before he could respond, she sprinted off, her movements a blur. In one fluid motion, she jumped, landing effortlessly on the Quinjet just as it began to lift into the sky.

Now that's an exit.

Jackson soon followed the Director back inside the Helicarrier, its metallic halls echoing with every step. They soon entered the command room, where the S.H.I.E.L.D logo was prominently displayed on the wall. The room was sleek and high-tech, with large screens lining the walls, flashing data and live feeds from across the globe. Consoles hummed with activity, manned by agents in tactical gear, their focused eyes flicking across monitors. 

"Right! Jackson, welcome to SHIELD," Nick Fury said, his tone serious.

"Thanks," Jackson replied, his voice tinged with nervousness.

"First day's always the scariest," Maria Hill chimed in, her dark blue SHIELD uniform sharp against the sterile surroundings.

"Now, where's that suit the Academy made for you?" Nick Fury asked, raising an eyebrow.

"In my room," Jackson replied, his eyes widening slightly.

"Good. Leave it," Fury said, his tone firm.

"Why?" Jackson asked, shocked. How was he supposed to do hero work without it?

"Because you're not wearing a goddamn spandex suit," Fury shot back.

"But that's all I need! I don't need fancy gadgets," Jackson protested, laying it out.

"You're a SHIELD agent now, and you need a proper suit for your first deployment," Fury replied, crossing his arms.

"So, am I supposed to go in my regular clothes?" Jackson said sarcastically.

"Aw, lucky for you, Tony Stark left a gift for you," Fury said with a sly grin.

They stepped into another room, the air buzzing with the hum of high-tech gadgets. Jackson's eyes scanned the shelves lined with devices before his gaze landed on a curved section of the wall. It slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a sleek, custom suit standing in the center of the room, its polished surface gleaming under the lights.

"Wow, Stark really outdid himself," Jackson murmured, reaching out to touch the smooth metal chest plate. His fingers traced the curves, feeling the coldness of the material until they stopped at the center. His brow furrowed. "What's this? An arc reactor?"

"To power the suit, of course," Fury answered, his tone blunt.

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "But my powers could power it just fine."

"It's not efficient," Fury replied, his voice sharp. "You'd waste too much energy doing that. And if you're in a pinch, the reactor can give you a boost when you need it."

As soon as Jackson withdrew his hand, white lights flickered on, illuminating the exoskeleton. The once-dark metallic surface gleamed as it revealed its true colors. The armor was a striking combination of deep red and sleek silver. The chest was predominantly silver, with intricate red accents cutting through the design, while the arms blended the two tones seamlessly, the red swirling into the silver. The top of the mask was a vibrant red, its smooth curve leading down to the silver-lined bottom half, creating a sharp, dynamic contrast. The suit looked like a fusion of strength and agility, perfectly crafted for both combat and speed.

"God damn, this is way cooler than what I was wearing," Jackson muttered, his eyes widening as he took in the suit's full glory. The sleek red and silver armor practically hummed with power, making his old gear feel like a joke.

While admiring it, something caught his attention—a small card tucked into the edge of the suit's hand. He grabbed it, flipped it over, and smirked as he read the message in familiar handwriting.

"Hey, Jackson," it started. "Since you're officially a hero, I figured you'd need something a little more stylish. Enjoy the upgrade—Tony Stark."

Jackson smiled, memories flooding back of all the good times he'd shared with Tony. The jokes, the lessons, and the way Tony always had a way of making him feel like he belonged with the Avengers.

Nick Fury's voice cut through his thoughts. Arms crossed and his gaze firm, Fury said, "Listen, kid. Your powers are classified as S-class. But you're still a rookie, so we're starting you off with the easy missions. Got it?"

Jackson snapped to attention and gave a quick salute. "Of course, sir."

Fury's serious expression softened just a bit as a smirk played on his lips. "Good. Because we've got a mission lined up for you Ultraman."

And just like that, his journey as a hero began. The weight of responsibility settled on his shoulders, but so did the thrill of adventure. Jackson took one last look at the suit, his reflection staring back at him through the polished silver. He was ready.