Marvel's Next Avenger's: "OUR TURN"

Chapter 1: The Mechanic's Final Words

Mr. Stark's funeral was. . . depressing, to say the least. Especially so, given the fact that I hadn't seen him in over 6 months before he died. I didn't know half the people there, and the ones I did know, I only remember from TV screens or the covers of cereal boxes. They were superheroes, after all. Though, Mr. Thor was starting to look more like my Uncle Eddie after a few too many visits to the bar.

"You're Harley, right?" a voice said behind me, "Harley Keener?"

I turned to see Happy Hogan walking towards me, Mr. Stark's daughter Morgan on one hand, and a yellow envelope in the other.

"Yessir," I answered, fidgeting in my jacket. I didn't want to wear a suit, because honestly, Mr. Stark would've just thought it was weird, but Mom made me.

He put the envelope under his opposite arm, and held out a hand. I shook it, as he said, "Pleasure to meet you. Ton-" he started, before catching himself, "Mr. Stark told me all about you. Happy Hogan. And, I'm sure you've met Morgan."

"Of course," I said, mustering a smile for little Morgan, "How are you, kid?"

I'll admit, it felt a little weird using the nickname Mr. Stark called me for his daughter, but she seemed to like it. Maybe it reminded her of her dad.

She was still a little shy around me, since I'd only met her a handful of times when Mr. Stark came to visit me, or when I'd go visit them in New York, but I hoped she was warming up to me.

She hid behind Happy's leg slightly, but gave me a small smile.

But yes, Mr. Stark did, in fact, keep in touch, visited a couple times, and let me come up and stay at the compound on occasion. I'm not sure if any of the other Avengers knew about my existence, given that they seemed confused as to why I, a common person, was at the Tony Stark's funeral. I guess the Mechanic wanted to keep me under the radar as much as possible.

Which, considering I was the one who figured out where Mandarin was holed up back in 2012, it's probably good that he didn't mention me. I don't think any of the other Avengers even knew about that, either.

That was about 10 years ago, and I'm in college now. Mr. Stark gave me an irrefutable recommendation to Stanford, where I'm double majoring in quantum physics and engineering. I'm 22 now, so graduation is only about 2 or 3 years away. . . I only wish Mr. Stark could be there.

"How are you holding up?" Happy asked. I broke from my thoughts, putting my hands in my pockets.

"Okay, given the circumstances," I admitted, "I get the feeling I wasn't as close to Mr. Stark as most of these people." "Nah," Happy replied, waving his hand dismissively, "He was always so proud of you, raving about you getting accepted into school and such. Always said that if anyone were to run his company after he was gone, it'd be you. Once you were old enough, you know."

I was a little surprised at this. I'd always thought, you know, that Peter would be the one to be Mr. Stark's legacy.

I'd never admit it out loud, but I was always jealous of Peter. I'd never even talked to the guy, but I knew from watching the news that he was somewhat of 'Tony Stark's prodigy.' And now that I knew he was Spiderman (I don't know how that guy keeps it a secret, he's like, 12), it made sense.

Peter was a superhero, meaning he could look after himself. Me? I was an okay-at-school kid from Rose Hill, Tennessee, a town nobody's heard of. If any supervillain knew about my existence and connection to Iron Man, I would bet all odds against me winning that fight.

"Speaking of which," Happy continued, grabbing the yellow envelope from under his arm, "This was, uh, on his desk."

He handed the envelope to me. It was a standard envelope, didn't weigh much, and it had my name written on it in red ink. Nothing else, just my name.