Working on the Stark Industries proposal while managing everything else was like trying to juggle chainsaws while walking a tightrope. David felt perpetually on the edge of disaster, but there was no alternative. They needed this.
"You're insane," Sofia said when David told her his plan. "Stark Industries gets thousands of proposals for projects like this. What makes you think you'll even get looked at?"
"Because I'm going to design something better than anyone else," David replied with more confidence than he felt.
The proposal requirements were demanding: a concept for a new research campus outside New York City, incorporating advanced sustainable technology, providing flexible spaces for multiple research disciplines, and somehow embodying Stark Industries' new commitment to innovation for social benefit.
Most architects would focus on aesthetics and prestige. David decided to focus on something else entirely: functionality and human experience.
He spent three weeks on the design, working late into every night, sketching and re-sketching, modeling and testing. The campus took shape on his computer screen: a cluster of buildings arranged in a deliberately non-hierarchical pattern, connected by covered walkways and interspersed with green space.
But the real innovation was in the details. Every building was designed to facilitate collaboration, open floor plans that could be reconfigured easily, shared spaces that encouraged interdisciplinary interaction, transparency both literal and metaphorical. The sustainable technology wasn't just decorative; it was integrated into the building's core functionality. Solar panels that doubled as architectural elements. Geothermal systems that were visible and educational. Water recycling that created aesthetic water features while serving practical purposes.
And woven through it all was David's gift. He poured intention into every element of the design: buildings that would inspire creativity, spaces that would encourage innovation, an environment that would bring out the best in the people who worked there.
"This is good," Patricia admitted when David showed her the preliminary designs. "Really good. But will it be good enough?"
"It has to be," David replied simply.
While David worked on the Stark proposal, the pressure from Meridian continued. More contractors became mysteriously unavailable. Permit delays multiplied. Two banks that had been discussing financing suddenly had concerns about the Foundation's "business model stability."
And then the inspector situation escalated.
"They shut us down," Jorge reported, fury barely contained. "Williamson brought three other inspectors to the Atlantic Avenue site. Claimed he found structural deficiencies that pose immediate safety risks. David, the building is sound. We both know it. But he's issued a stop-work order and filed for emergency proceedings to potentially condemn the property."
David felt ice in his stomach. "On what grounds?"
"Made-up grounds. Alleged foundation instability, which is ridiculous. That foundation could support twice the planned structure. But he's got three inspectors backing his report, and the city is required to take safety concerns seriously."
"He's escalating," Marcus observed. David had called an emergency meeting in his office, and the core team was assembled. "Meridian realizes their soft pressure isn't working fast enough, so they're going nuclear. If they can get a property condemned, it damages our reputation, ties us up in legal proceedings, and potentially creates liability issues."
"Can we fight it?" David asked.
"We can and will," Patricia said. "I've already contacted our legal team. They're preparing an emergency response. But David, this is going to be expensive and public. We'll need independent engineering assessments, legal representation, probably expert witnesses. We're talking hundreds of thousands of dollars."
"Money we don't have," James muttered.
"Money we'll find," David corrected. "We're not letting them destroy what we've built. Fight this with everything we have."
The next week was brutal. David split his time between finishing the Stark proposal, managing the legal response to the condemnation attempt, and trying to keep the Foundation's other operations running smoothly. He slept maybe four hours a night, existing on coffee and stubborn determination.
The community response to the Atlantic Avenue situation was everything David had hoped for and more. When word spread that the building might be condemned, residents organized immediately. Fifty people showed up at the emergency city hearing, testifying about the building's quality, the Foundation's integrity, and the inspector's obvious bias. Community board members submitted written statements. Local business owners circulated petitions.
"This is irregular," the hearing officer said, looking overwhelmed by the turnout. "This was supposed to be a technical safety review, not a community forum."
"With respect," Isabella stood to speak, "the community has a stake in this decision. The Foundation for Urban Development has been a valuable partner in our neighborhood's revitalization. The building in question is structurally sound and provides much-needed affordable housing. We believe the condemnation attempt is motivated by factors other than legitimate safety concerns."
The hearing officer frowned. "That's a serious accusation."
"It's a serious situation," Isabella replied. "We're asking for an independent assessment by engineers with no connection to either party. Let objective evidence decide this, not potentially biased inspections."
After three hours of testimony, expert presentations, and community advocacy, the hearing officer issued a temporary ruling: the stop-work order would be lifted pending an independent structural assessment. The Foundation had won the battle, though the war was far from over.
"The community showed up," Elena reported that evening, her voice filled with emotion. "David, I've been doing community organizing for fifteen years, and I've never seen mobilization like this. People are invested. They see the Foundation as theirs."
"That's what we've been building," David said, though he felt more relief than satisfaction. "Now we need to make sure we can sustain it."
The Stark Industries proposal was due in forty-eight hours. David had been refining it obsessively, tweaking details, perfecting presentations. The final proposal package was comprehensive: detailed architectural drawings, 3D renderings, sustainability analysis, cost projections, and a written statement explaining his design philosophy.
"It's ready," David told James on the submission deadline. "As ready as it's going to be."
"Then submit it and pray," James replied. "Because if we don't land a major client in the next few months, we're in serious trouble."
David uploaded the proposal at 11:47 PM, thirteen minutes before the deadline. Then he sat back in his chair, staring at the confirmation screen, feeling emptied out and uncertain.
He'd done everything he could. The design was excellent, he knew that objectively. But excellence wasn't always enough. Stark Industries could choose based on reputation, or connections, or simply because another firm's proposal caught someone's fancy.
His phone buzzed. Sofia: Did you submit it?
Just now.
Good. Now try to sleep. You look like a zombie.
I feel like a zombie.
Well, even zombies need rest. Go home, David. Whatever happens, you've done your best.
David did go home, though sleep was elusive. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything that was balanced on the edge of a knife. The Foundation's financial situation. Meridian's ongoing pressure. The Stark proposal. The approaching timeline of events he knew were coming.
Somewhere in New Mexico, Thor was probably dealing with his own crisis, stripped of power, exiled to Earth, learning humility. Within months, he'd prove himself worthy, return to Asgard, and eventually his brother would come to Earth with an alien army.
And David would need to have built something resilient enough to help ordinary people survive that invasion. Something that wouldn't collapse under pressure from either cosmic threats or mundane corporate attacks.
It felt impossible. It also felt necessary.
He finally drifted into uneasy sleep around 4 AM, dreaming of buildings that stood firm against impossible forces, and communities that refused to break.
Three weeks passed with no word from Stark Industries. David tried not to obsess over it, but checking his email became a compulsive habit. James had explicitly told him that the selection process could take months, but every day without news felt like confirmation of failure.
Meanwhile, Meridian's pressure continued, though it had evolved. After the Atlantic Avenue condemnation attempt backfired spectacularly, generating negative press coverage and community pushback, they'd shifted tactics. Now they were hitting the Foundation through third parties: suppliers who suddenly couldn't fulfill orders, subcontractors who backed out of commitments at the last minute, subtle interference that was hard to prove but consistently disruptive.
"They're trying to death-by-a-thousand-cuts us," Patricia observed. "Nothing dramatic enough to generate community resistance, just constant friction that slows everything down and drives up costs."
"It's effective," James admitted grimly. "Our cash reserves are depleting faster than I'd like. We've got maybe five months of runway at this rate, possibly less if they manage to cause a major disruption."
David was reviewing the Atlantic Avenue construction timeline, delayed again, pushing back the completion date and costing them thousands in extended financing, when his phone rang. Unknown number, Manhattan area code.
"David Chen," he answered distractedly.
"Mr. Chen, this is Jennifer Walsh from Stark Industries. Do you have a moment?"
David sat up straighter, his full attention suddenly focused. "Yes, absolutely."
"Excellent. I'm calling regarding your proposal for the Stark Campus Expansion Project. I'm pleased to inform you that your submission has been selected as one of five finalists. Congratulations."
David's heart was pounding, but he kept his voice steady. "Thank you. That's wonderful to hear."
"The next phase involves a more detailed presentation to our selection committee. We'd like you to come to Stark Industries headquarters next Tuesday at 2 PM to present your vision in person. Can you make that work?"
"Yes, definitely. I'll be there."
"Perfect. I'm sending you the details now, along with information about the presentation format and expectations. We're looking forward to seeing more of your work, Mr. Chen. Your proposal was... distinctive. Several members of our team were quite impressed."
After the call ended, David sat very still for a moment, processing. They were interested. Actually interested. Out of probably hundreds of submissions, David Chen Architecture had made it to the final five.
He immediately texted the core team: Stark Industries. Finalists. Presentation next Tuesday.
The responses came rapid-fire:
Marcus: Excellent work. Want me there for security?
Sofia: HOLY SHIT. This is huge!
James: This could solve our financial problems. Don't screw it up. (kidding, you'll be great)
Patricia: Congratulations. Let me know what logistical support you need.
Sarah: You did it! This is amazing!
David allowed himself a moment of pure relief, then immediately shifted into preparation mode. A presentation to Stark Industries. One of five finalists. This was his chance, maybe his only chance, to secure the kind of contract that could stabilize the Foundation's finances and give them breathing room against Meridian's pressure.
He couldn't afford to waste it.
The weekend disappeared into a blur of preparation. David refined his presentation, practiced his delivery, anticipated questions, and prepared backup materials for every possible line of inquiry. Patricia helped him select appropriate professional attire, not too flashy, not too dowdy, projecting competence and creativity in equal measure. Sofia ensured all his digital materials were flawless and backed up redundantly.
Marcus insisted on running security for the trip.
"It's Stark Industries headquarters, Marcus. They have their own security."
"And you'll have me. Non-negotiable." Marcus's tone brooked no argument. "Someone's already tried to sabotage your work through bureaucratic channels. I'm not letting you walk into a high-stakes meeting without backup."
David suspected Marcus was being overcautious, but he also appreciated the concern. "Fine. But you're staying in the background. I don't want to look paranoid."
"You won't even know I'm there."
Tuesday arrived with unseasonable warmth for late autumn. David dressed carefully in the navy suit Patricia had selected, reviewing his notes one last time before Thomas drove him into Manhattan. Marcus sat in the front passenger seat, scanning their surroundings with professional alertness.
Stark Industries headquarters was in Midtown, a sleek tower that announced its occupant's wealth and power without subtlety. David had passed it dozens of times but had never been inside. The lobby was all polished marble and modernist art, with security that was tight but efficient.
"David Chen for a 2 PM appointment with Jennifer Walsh," David told the reception desk.
The receptionist checked her system, then smiled professionally. "Of course, Mr. Chen. You'll be meeting in Conference Room 7B. Security will escort you up."
The escort was a professional security officer who made polite small talk during the elevator ride to the seventh floor. Marcus had peeled off in the lobby, present but invisible, exactly as promised. David felt oddly comforted knowing his friend was nearby, even if rationally there was no threat here.
Conference Room 7B was impressive: floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan, a table that could seat twenty, and presentation equipment that looked more advanced than anything David had used before. Five people were already seated: three he didn't recognize, one he vaguely remembered from news coverage as a Stark Industries executive, and,
David's breath caught slightly.
Tony Stark himself, dressed in a t-shirt and blazer that probably cost more than David's entire wardrobe, looking simultaneously bored and intensely observant.
"Mr. Chen, welcome." Jennifer Walsh stood to greet him, a woman in her forties with the efficient demeanor of someone who managed impossible schedules and demanding bosses. "Thank you for coming. Let me introduce our selection committee."
She ran through names and titles. The three David didn't recognize were the head of Stark Industries' facilities management, their chief sustainability officer, and a senior architect from their in-house design team. The executive was James Rhodes, Rhodey, David's memory supplied, who was apparently overseeing the campus expansion project in an official capacity.
"And of course, Mr. Stark is taking a personal interest in this project," Jennifer concluded.
"Call me Tony," Stark said, not bothering to stand. "Let's skip the formalities. I've seen your proposal, Mr. Chen. It's interesting. Different. Most firms submitted ego monuments dressed up as research facilities. Yours actually looks like a place where people might want to work."
"That was the goal," David replied, moving to the presentation controls. "I believe architecture should serve the people who use it, not the other way around."
"Revolutionary concept," Tony said dryly. "Show me what you've got."
David took a breath, then began his presentation. He'd practiced this dozens of times, but presenting to Tony Stark, Iron Man, genius billionaire, the man who would help save the world, was surreal in a way he hadn't fully anticipated.
But as he spoke, walking through his design philosophy and specific campus plans, David felt himself settling into a rhythm. This was his work. He knew it was good. He just had to communicate why.
"The conventional approach to research campuses is to create hierarchical spaces," David explained, showing his designs. "Buildings organized by importance, with the most prestigious research getting the best locations and resources. I'm proposing the opposite: radically egalitarian space where a junior researcher has the same access to light, ventilation, and collaborative areas as a senior scientist."
"Why?" asked the chief sustainability officer.
"Because innovation doesn't respect hierarchy. Breakthrough ideas can come from anywhere. If you create an environment that privileges some voices over others, you're artificially limiting your creative potential."
Tony leaned forward slightly, more engaged now. "Go on."
David continued, explaining his integrated sustainability systems, his flexible space design, his approach to fostering interdisciplinary collaboration. He showed 3D renderings that demonstrated how the campus would function, walked through traffic flow patterns, explained his materials choices.
"The buildings are overengineered," observed the in-house architect, studying the structural specifications. "You're using more steel and concrete than strictly necessary for structures of this size."
"I'm building for longevity and resilience," David replied. "Research institutions should serve multiple generations. I'd rather overengineer now than have buildings that become obsolete or unstable in twenty years."
"Expensive approach," the facilities manager commented.
"Cost-effective long-term approach," David corrected. "The upfront premium pays for itself over the building's lifetime through reduced maintenance, greater flexibility for future modification, and enhanced structural stability."
Tony was studying the renderings closely now, his mind clearly racing through calculations and possibilities. "These collaborative spaces, the way you've positioned them creates natural congregation points. People would run into each other organically, not just in scheduled meetings."
"Exactly. The architecture facilitates serendipitous connection. Some of the best collaborations happen by accident, but only if the environment enables those accidents."
"JARVIS would love this," Tony muttered, then louder: "The sustainability integration is clever. Most architects treat green technology like an afterthought, slap some solar panels on the roof, call it a day. You've made it structural."
"Because it should be structural. Sustainability isn't an add-on; it's a fundamental design principle."
The presentation continued for ninety minutes, with the committee asking increasingly detailed and challenging questions. David answered them all, drawing on his preparation but also his genuine passion for the work. This wasn't just about winning a contract, though he needed that desperately. It was about creating something meaningful, something that would serve people well for decades.
Finally, Jennifer called time. "Thank you, Mr. Chen. That was comprehensive and impressive. We have two more finalists to hear from this week, and then we'll make our decision. We'll be in touch within ten days."
David gathered his materials, preparing to leave, when Tony spoke up.
"Actually, I have one more question." Tony stood, moving to study the renderings more closely. "You're a small firm. Relatively unknown. This project would be massive, probably the biggest thing you've ever attempted. Why should we trust you can actually execute this vision?"
It was a fair question, and David had prepared for it. But standing there, facing Tony Stark directly, he decided to answer with honesty rather than a rehearsed pitch.
"You shouldn't," David said simply. "Not based on my track record alone. I've done good work at smaller scales, but you're right, this would be unprecedented for my firm. So here's what I propose: if you select my design, I work with a larger firm as a partner. I lead the design and maintain creative control, but they provide the project management infrastructure and experience with large-scale construction. You get my vision and their execution capability."
Tony's eyebrows rose slightly. "You're willing to share control?"
"I'm willing to be realistic about my limitations. The goal is to create something excellent, not to protect my ego. If partnering makes the project better, that's what we should do."
Tony studied him for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then he nodded slightly. "Honest answer. I like that. We'll be in touch, Mr. Chen."
As David left the building, escorted back through security to the lobby where Marcus was waiting, he felt both exhilarated and drained. The presentation had gone well, he was confident of that. But whether it had gone well enough to beat four other finalists, he couldn't know.
"How'd it go?" Marcus asked as they headed to the car.
"I think it went well. Tony Stark was there."
"Iron Man himself? That's significant."
"He seemed interested. Asked good questions. But I have no idea what he really thought."
Thomas drove them back to Queens through heavy traffic, giving David time to decompress and process. His phone buzzed constantly, texts from the team asking for updates, but he waited until he was back in his office before calling a meeting.
"The presentation went well," David reported to the assembled core team. "They were engaged, asked substantive questions, and I answered them honestly. Tony Stark himself was there, which suggests he's taking this seriously."
"And?" James prompted.
"And now we wait. They have two more finalists to see, then they'll decide within ten days."
"Ten days we may not have," James said quietly. "David, I need to show you something."
He pulled up financial projections that made David's stomach sink. "Meridian is hitting us through our supply chains now. Three of our primary contractors have had their materials suppliers suddenly refuse to work with them, which means they can't work with us. We're scrambling to find replacements, but it's driving costs up and timelines back. Combined with the ongoing permit delays and the legal costs from the condemnation fight..."
"How long?" David asked.
"Three months. Maybe four if we're lucky and nothing else goes wrong. After that, we're effectively insolvent."
The room was quiet, the weight of that timeline settling over everyone.
"Can we liquidate assets faster?" Patricia asked.
"We're already liquidating everything non-essential," James replied. "But it's not enough. We need new revenue or we need to dramatically scale back operations. And scaling back signals weakness, Meridian will just push harder."
"So we need to win the Stark contract," Sofia said.
"We need to win the Stark contract, or find another miracle, or accept that we might have to make very difficult decisions in the next few months."
David stood, moving to the window. Outside, Queens went about its business, unaware of the crisis being discussed in this office. Unaware that the organization trying to protect them was being squeezed by forces they couldn't see or understand.
"We're not giving up," David said quietly. "And we're not selling out to Meridian. We've built something real, something valuable, something that matters. We're going to find a way through this."
"How?" James asked, not challenging but genuinely asking.
"I don't know yet. But we've gotten through every crisis so far by being creative and persistent. This won't be different."
He turned back to the team. "Keep doing what you're doing. Keep building, keep serving communities, keep maintaining our standards. If we go down, we go down with integrity intact. But I don't think we're going down. I think we're about to turn a corner."
David wished he felt as confident as he sounded. But his team needed to see strength, not doubt. So he projected confidence and hoped it would somehow become real.
After the meeting dispersed, Marcus lingered as he usually did.
"You're betting everything on Stark Industries," Marcus observed.
"Not everything. But a lot, yes."
"And if it doesn't work out?"
David was quiet for a moment. "Then we'll figure out Plan B. But Marcus, I need this to work. Not just for the money, though we need that, but because landing a contract with Stark Industries would give us legitimacy and protection. It would make us harder to push around, harder to dismiss as just another small organization. It would prove we're serious players."
"I understand. Just make sure you have a Plan B anyway."
"Always."
After Marcus left, David sat alone in his office as evening shadows lengthened across Queens. His phone showed a news alert: "Strange Weather Phenomenon in New Mexico, Experts Baffled."
David pulled up the article. Reports of unusual atmospheric events in a small desert town. Government agencies on site. No official explanation.
Thor, David thought. The Asgardian had arrived, or was about to. Which meant the timeline was progressing exactly as he remembered. Within months, Loki would make his move. Within a year, maybe less, the Chitauri would pour through a portal in the sky.
And David Chen, architect and secret keeper, was running out of time and money to prepare for it.
He stared at the financial projections James had left behind. Three to four months of runway. The Stark decision would come in ten days. If they won, they'd have breathing room and legitimacy. If they lost...
David couldn't let himself think about losing.
He pulled up his designs for the South Bronx project, the fortress disguised as affordable housing, still in planning stages, still waiting for financing that was increasingly uncertain. The building that was supposed to shelter people when the world went sideways.
I will build this, David thought fiercely. I will build this and everything else we've planned. I will create something that survives what's coming. I have to.
Outside, the city transitioned from day to night, millions of lights flickering on like stars. Somewhere in Manhattan, Tony Stark was probably in his workshop, building something brilliant and dangerous. Somewhere in New Mexico, Thor was learning what it meant to be mortal. Somewhere in the shadows, Hydra was planning and preparing.
And in a modest office in Queens, David Chen sat alone, betting everything on a gamble he couldn't afford to lose, trying to build something strong enough to matter in a world of gods and monsters.
The clock was ticking: fourteen months until the invasion.
Ten days until he'd know if his gambit had paid off.
David Chen opened a new document and began writing contingency plans. Just in case Plan A didn't work out.
Because in this business, you always needed a backup plan.