Max sat comfortably in his spacious living room, a steaming plate of spaghetti and meatballs in front of him, while the soft hum of the television filled the space. He lazily twirled his fork in the pasta, his eyes flicking between his meal and the news report playing on the screen. It was a routine day—nothing particularly special happening, at least not yet.
On the TV, the anchor was discussing politics, but Max barely paid attention. His mind was elsewhere—on larger things. His shipyard in the orbit of Jupiter was nearing completion of its first full wave of production, and the Stargate network he had envisioned was beginning to take shape. Soon, his quiet preparations would no longer be in the shadows.
His phone buzzed on the table next to him. Max glanced at it and saw Tony Stark's name flash across the screen. With a soft sigh, he wiped his hands on a napkin and picked up the phone.
"Max! My favorite intergalactic tech genius," Tony's voice rang through the line, full of its usual cocky energy. "How's it going?"
Max smiled, amused by Tony's carefree attitude. "Hey, Tony. What's up?"
"So, I just got out of this ridiculous hearing at the Pentagon," Tony continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Senator Stern tried to get me to hand over the Iron Man suit. Can you believe that? He even brought in Hammer to take shots at me."
Max raised an eyebrow, already visualizing Tony making a spectacle of the hearing. "And how did you handle it?"
"Oh, you know me," Tony replied with a smug tone. "I made Stern look like a fool in front of everyone. And Hammer? Please, that guy wouldn't know real innovation if it hit him in the face."
Max chuckled softly. "Sounds like you had fun."
Tony laughed. "Oh, I did. Anyway, I'm heading to Monaco tomorrow. Thought you might want to come with me—enjoy some sun, maybe catch the race?"
Max leaned back in his chair, looking out the window at the peaceful New York skyline. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass. I've got some things to wrap up here. But hey, make sure you take that personal shield I gave you, just in case."
There was a pause on the other end before Tony spoke again, his voice curious. "The shield? You really think I'll need it? It's just Monaco, Max."
Max's tone was calm but firm. "Trust me, Tony. You never know. That thing saved you once. It might come in handy again."
Tony hesitated briefly before letting out a sigh. "Alright, alright. I'll pack it. But if nothing happens, you owe me a drink."
Max grinned. "Deal."
They exchanged a few more pleasantries before ending the call. As Max set his phone down, he felt a strange heaviness settle over him. He knew what was coming—Whiplash would attack Tony in Monaco. The fallout from that event would send ripples through the media, the government, and ultimately lead Tony down the path toward his confrontation with Hammer and the eventual birth of War Machine. All of this had to happen. And yet, Max couldn't help but feel the weight of inevitability pressing down on him.
The next afternoon, Max was sitting in the same spot, casually eating lunch again, when the breaking news flashed across the screen. The footage showed the chaos unfolding on the Monaco racetrack. Tony Stark had decided to drive in the race, but things took a violent turn when Ivan Vanko—Whiplash—attacked. The camera panned to the now-damaged track as Tony, clad in the Iron Man suit, ripped the Arc Reactor out of Whiplash's chest, incapacitating him.
Max set down his fork and watched intently as the footage rolled. The media, as expected, swarmed the scene. Reporters speculated about who Vanko was and how he had managed to create a suit with technology that resembled Tony's. It didn't take long for the narrative to shift toward the question of Tony's control over his technology, and whether or not it was safe for him to continue holding the monopoly on something so dangerous.
Max let out a soft sigh. "It's all beginning to fall into place."
He knew it wouldn't be long before other pieces of the puzzle started moving. Hammer would soon make his play, and Rhodey would be pulled into the mix. But for Max, the real concern lay beyond these immediate events. The invasion—the one event that would change everything—was looming closer. Loki, the Chitauri, the Battle of New York. It was only a matter of time before Earth found itself face-to-face with the broader universe, and when that happened, people would have no choice but to acknowledge the truth that they weren't alone.
Max stared at the television, lost in thought. Once the invasion happens, everything changes. But until then, I have to be ready. He needed to prepare his infrastructure, recruit allies, and position himself for what was to come. But he also needed to remain in the background, invisible to most. Let Tony take the spotlight for now—he had his role to play.
Max set his plate aside and picked up a nearby tablet. He pulled up a live feed from one of the surveillance drones he'd planted near his decoy apartment in Queens. There, just as he suspected, Bobbi Morse—one of SHIELD's top agents—was hovering around the building, likely trying to find out more about him.
"About time," Max muttered to himself, a small smirk creeping onto his lips. "They've been watching me long enough. I think it's time we had a proper introduction."
He quickly tapped into the controls of his home network, activating the remote systems he had installed around the decoy apartment. With a few more keystrokes, Max set his plan in motion. If Fury was going to learn more about him, then it would be on Max's terms.
He glanced back at the screen, already envisioning Fury's reaction to what he was about to do. Max had crafted something special—an elaborate video designed to mess with Fury's famously stoic demeanor. It would start with something light, playful even, but by the end, it would leave Fury with no doubt that Max was not someone to be underestimated.
The video began with a shot of Nick Fury's office, a near-perfect digital recreation that Max had modeled using SHIELD's data—down to the smallest detail. The camera panned across Fury's desk, showing files marked with SHIELD's logo, before zooming in on a single folder marked "Stark, Max." Suddenly, the folder opened, and a miniature animated version of Fury popped out, shaking his head disapprovingly.
"Oh, look what we have here," the cartoon Fury said, his voice exaggerated for effect. "Another Stark causing trouble. What else is new?"
The animated Fury proceeded to pace across the desk, making sarcastic comments about Tony and Max's activities, all while the background subtly changed to various locations Max had been to—Xandar, the Stargate network, even the construction of his Earth space station.
As the video progressed, the tone shifted, becoming slightly more serious. The digital Fury stopped pacing and turned to face the screen, his expression hardening.
"But in all seriousness, Fury," Max's voice chimed in, overlaying the scene, "you've been watching me for a while now, haven't you? Trying to figure out what I'm up to. So let's get one thing straight: I know you. I know what you're doing. And I know you're going to come knocking eventually."
The camera zoomed in on the animated Fury's face as Max's voice continued. "When you're ready, let's talk. But remember, I'm not Tony. I'm not playing the same game."
The video ended with a close-up of Fury's eye, which turned into the SHIELD logo before the screen cut to black.
Max couldn't help but smile as he uploaded the video to SHIELD's network, ensuring it would find its way to Fury's desk by the end of the day. He leaned back in his chair, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. This was the beginning of something bigger—he knew it. The game was about to change, and Nick Fury would have no choice but to play by Max's rules.
"Time to have some fun," Max muttered, turning off the tablet and standing up.
The next day, as the sun dipped low over New York, Max couldn't shake the feeling that things were accelerating faster than even he had anticipated. He hadn't spoken to Tony since the Monaco incident, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Tony reached out. There were bigger things at play now, and with the government breathing down Tony's neck, Max needed to plant a few seeds.
He pulled out his phone and dialed Tony's number. After a few rings, Tony answered, his voice sounding a bit tired but still carrying his usual bravado.
"Max, what's up? You ready to fly out to Monaco after all? You missed quite the show."
Max chuckled. "Yeah, I saw. But no, I'm not calling to reminisce. I've been thinking about something."
"Oh? What's that?"
"You need to give Rhodey a suit."
Tony paused. "Wait, what? You mean... you're suggesting I hand over an Iron Man suit to the military? That's exactly what Stern and Hammer want me to do."
Max shook his head, though Tony couldn't see it. "No, not to the military. To Rhodey. You need to let him have one of your suits. That way, the military will stop breathing down your neck, and you'll have someone you trust in the suit."
Tony let out a sigh. "I don't know, Max. I mean, I trust Rhodey, but handing over that kind of power? What if someone tries to take control of the suit? I can't risk it."
"That's the other thing," Max said, his tone firm. "You should install a backdoor into the suit's systems. In case someone does manage to override the permissions, you'll have a way to take control back. It's simple, really. Just a precaution."
Tony was silent for a moment, considering Max's advice. "A backdoor, huh? You're really thinking ahead."
Max smirked. "You've got enemies you haven't even met yet, Tony. Better to be prepared."
Tony sighed again, but there was a note of acceptance in his voice. "Alright. I'll think about it. Thanks, Max."
"No problem. I'll talk to you soon."
Max ended the call, his mind already shifting gears. He glanced at the surveillance feed again, watching as Bobbi Morse continued her surveillance around his decoy apartment. Soon, he'd have to confront SHIELD directly. Fury wouldn't be able to ignore him much longer.
Max leaned back, his gaze drifting toward the city skyline. The quiet before the storm was ending, and when the winds changed, he intended to be ready.
"Time to meet Nick Fury," Max muttered to himself, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "This is going to be fun."