---
Chapter: Project CareCore
The underground lab at Stark Industries hummed with soft light and focused silence. Deep beneath the building's public-facing innovation center, Otto Octavius stood before a circular diagnostics table. Holograms hovered around him—schematics of microbot swarms, neuro-responsive chipsets, and the large inflatable figure now standing silently on the platform.
"Baymax Version 0.1," Otto said aloud, hands clasped behind his back. "Internal medical database, voice-responsive AI, 2.3 terabyte storage, and built-in body scanner with polymer gel limbs. No combat protocols."
The rotund white balloon-shaped robot blinked to life. "Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion."
Otto nodded. "Speech function optimal. Begin calibration test."
Baymax lifted one hand and wobbled slightly. "Please state the nature of your medical emergency."
Before Otto could respond, the lab door hissed open.
"Please say you didn't just build a giant marshmallow," said a familiar voice.
Tony Stark strolled in, sunglasses on indoors as always, sipping a smoothie that looked suspiciously unhealthy.
Otto turned, expression unreadable. "Mr. Stark."
"Dr. Octavius," Tony replied. "I leave you CEO duties for three months, and you build... what is that, a walking couch cushion?"
Baymax turned toward him. "Are you experiencing emotional discomfort?"
Tony blinked. "Okay, wow."
Otto allowed himself a faint smirk. "Meet Baymax. A medical support unit powered by microbots and an advanced neural chip. Inspired by... a very obscure research file I once read."
Tony walked around the robot, eyebrows raised. "You gave the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man an MD?"
"He is trained in over 10,000 medical procedures," Otto said, tapping a control panel. "Diagnostics, emergency care, trauma response. I've integrated a swarm of microbots capable of rapid tool configuration."
Tony's sarcasm faded slightly. "And the catch?"
"There is no catch," Otto replied. "These models will be distributed under the CareCore Initiative. Strictly civilian. No combat algorithms. No weaponized variants."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "That's a first — a genius building something not meant to explode."
Otto turned serious. "The world has enough weapons. What it lacks is recovery. These bots can reach warzones, disaster sites, third-world clinics. The healing units will be the only ones publicized."
Tony studied Baymax for a moment. "And the rest?"
Otto didn't flinch. "Locked away. The disaster-recovery models and combat schematics will never be released."
Baymax waddled forward. "Would you like a lollipop?"
Tony blinked. "Okay, he's creepy and adorable. I hate it."
A robotic arm deployed from Baymax's side and gently scanned Tony's vitals.
"Blood pressure slightly elevated," Baymax said. "You may be experiencing the early signs of stress. Would you like to sit down?"
Otto's mouth twitched. "He's persistent."
Tony backed away. "I don't need a balloon diagnosing me. I've got a therapist named Netflix."
Baymax hummed gently and returned to standby mode.
Tony turned to Otto, voice more serious now. "You've been busy."
"I delegated administrative duties," Otto said. "Efficiency rose by 14%. The interns stopped crying."
Tony laughed. "That's how you know you're doing it right."
He leaned against the console. "But seriously… this is good work. Impressive even by your inflated standards. You're not just thinking like a CEO — you're thinking like a futurist."
Otto shrugged. "The world doesn't need another armored god. It needs recovery, healing. This... is my answer."
Tony nodded slowly. "You planning to debut this at the Expo?"
"Not yet," Otto said. "I want to field-test him. Quietly. One hospital. Controlled environment. I'll oversee it personally."
Tony lifted his smoothie. "To giant soft robots and slightly less terrifying genius CEOs."
Otto actually raised his own coffee mug. "To controlled optimism."
As they drank, Baymax's eyes flickered again.
"I sense heightened serotonin levels. You two are bonding. Shall I document this?"
Tony grinned. "No, please don't."
Baymax beeped cheerfully.
Just as they were about to leave, the robot let out a sudden high-pitched whirrrr, its left foot inflating to the size of a beanbag.
Tony squinted. "Uh, is that supposed to happen?"
Otto sighed. "Prototype. He occasionally overcompensates when nervous."
Baymax's voice glitched slightly. "I am experiencing... foot anxiety."
Tony wheezed. "Oh my god, he's Peter with anxiety balloons."
Otto palmed his face. "Back to the diagnostics."
Baymax waddled in a slow circle, dragging his overinflated foot like a sad parade float.
Tony chuckled as he headed for the door. "Well, when you're done with your Michelin Man, come upstairs. Pepper wants to review the quarterly reports. And maybe we don't let the balloon do PowerPoints."
Otto waved him off and turned back to the diagnostic table.
"Baymax," he said, voice calm. "Let's fix that foot."
"Okay," the robot replied happily, and collapsed gently onto the floor like a deflated couch.
Otto muttered under his breath, "Superior... healthcare companion .
Got it — here's the revised moment, adding a darker, more commanding edge to Otto's warning while keeping the emotional beat with Gwen and Pepper intact:
---
Stark Industries – Sublevel R&D Lab | 7:46 PM
The lab lights cast a sterile glow over Baymax's containment pod. Inside, the balloon-like medical bot stood perfectly still, a gentle hum vibrating beneath his skin. Otto stood in front of him, arms crossed, mechanical limbs retracted but coiled — like a panther at rest.
Only five scientists stood present, handpicked by Otto himself for their loyalty and discretion. Gwen stood to the side, not as an intern tonight, but as someone who had earned Otto's trust. Pepper Potts was next to her, arms folded, watching with the faintest smile of curiosity.
"I'll only say this once," Otto began, voice low and firm. "This technology is not public. Not for Avengers. Not for shareholders. This is for healing — and healing only."
He held up a sleek black chip between two fingers. It pulsed with a dull red light.
"This chip is not inside Baymax. It never will be — unless the world is ending. What's on it is a contingency protocol. A combat mode."
One of the scientists opened his mouth to ask a question.
Otto's eyes glinted.
"If any of you attempt to replicate it, steal it, or even hint at it beyond this room..." He paused and let the threat breathe. "You will not be sued. You will not be arrested."
He stepped forward, shadows stretching over the tile floor.
"You will be hunted."
Another step.
"Not by Stark Industries. Not by the government. But by me — the Superior Spider-Man."
His mechanical limbs hissed out from his back, sharp and gleaming.
"I will find you. And I will ensure you never touch technology again."
Silence.
Even Baymax held his posture in deference.
Pepper gave him a slow nod. "Message received."
Otto turned back to the terminal and tapped in a command. Baymax powered on, lifting his head.
"Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion."
Gwen exhaled in awe. "He's amazing..."
Baymax scanned her. "Your cortisol levels are elevated. Would you like a hug?"
Gwen laughed nervously. "I'm okay, buddy."
Otto glanced at her. "He's built to recognize stress responses within a ten-foot radius. Empathy comes standard."
Pepper stepped beside Gwen, eyes warm. "You really brought him to life."
Otto didn't smile, but there was a softness in his tone. "It was... a good design. Too good to stay fiction."
Gwen looked up at him. "You're not selling the combat one, right?"
"Never," Otto said. "The world doesn't deserve it. And if anyone tries to steal it... well."
He tapped the side of his head.
"They'll learn what it means to cross a man who remembers the worst version of himself."
Baymax looked between them. "You two have a 91% compatibility rating. Would you like to schedule a future bonding activity?"
Otto frowned. "Baymax, silence."
Baymax chirped. "Okay!"
---