"Oh! Tony—thank God! You're finally back safe!"
Pepper rushed downstairs after hearing the intruder alarm, only to find Iron Man in the middle of forcefully dismantling the Mark III armor. Relief immediately flooded her face.
"Why do you sound like you had absolutely no faith in me?" Tony protested, his fragile pride instantly kicking in.
Pepper knew his strange, tsundere-like arrogance all too well. She didn't argue and instead stepped forward to help.
"So… did you drive those sea people back?" she asked carefully.
"Well—uh—strictly speaking, we had a very friendly exchange," Tony replied after desperately searching for the right words.
"Yes. An exchange."
Pepper shook her head. She didn't bother exposing his obvious lie and instead said,
"In that case, can you go back to handling company matters now?"
Tony's eyes darted around before he replied,
"Uh, Pepper, during that 'friendly exchange,' I suffered some psychological trauma, so I won't be going to the office."
Pepper crossed her arms and glared at him.
"Tony, what are you planning now?"
Tony quickly stepped forward and gently placed his hands on her shoulders.
"Darling, I have absolute faith in your abilities. As for me, I need some time alone to heal my wounded soul—unless you'd like to personally help with that?"
Seeing the look in his eyes, Pepper's resolve softened.
"Fine. But you must rest properly, understood?"
"I promise," Tony said with a grin.
Pepper turned and left helplessly.
Tony muttered under his breath once she was gone,
"I'll sleep after I finish this."
As soon as Pepper was completely out of sight, Tony spoke again.
"JARVIS, bring up the Mark III schematics."
[Understood, sir.]
A three-dimensional holographic projection appeared above the workbench. Tony raised his hands and began manipulating it.
"First issue—the thrusters in the hands and feet still aren't powerful enough. We need a different engine model, miniaturize it, then reinforce the output."
[Sir, are you planning to complete these upgrades within three days?]
"No," Tony replied firmly.
"I'm building a completely new suit—something different from the Mark III."
"This battle made something very clear," he continued.
"There are abnormal, superhuman lifeforms in this world."
"A single all-purpose armor won't be enough anymore. We need specialized armors with different attributes to counter specific threats."
[Sir, would you like to create a new project file?]
"Yes," Tony answered immediately.
"Name it: Mark IV."
[File created, sir.]
"Good. Now weapons—we need a serious upgrade. Palm repulsors are too weak and too limited."
"We need more firepower, more variety…"
"JARVIS, does the company currently possess weapons stronger than what I'm using?"
[None among officially approved weapons, sir.]
"Then experimental weapons will do."
[Sir, experimental weapons are unstable. I do not recommend their use.]
"That's exactly why they need real combat testing," Tony replied calmly.
"You don't learn true performance from simulations."
[There are four unfinished prototype weapons in the newly established classified laboratory, sir.]
"The lab studying that alien ship?" Tony frowned.
[Correct, sir.]
Tony's expression darkened.
Ever since the secret laboratory had been established, he had rarely gone there. The researchers were mostly professors hired by the company.
Every visit reminded him of Lucas's smug, infuriatingly confident face.
Tony firmly believed that even without alien technology, he could still create era-defining inventions.
The Arc Reactor in his chest and the Mark III armor were proof enough.
But his encounter with Orm had shaken him for the first time.
---
Pennsylvania State Prison
"Sir, about half an hour ago, two mysterious individuals arrived at the prison and took three death-row inmates with them."
Two burly, intimidating prisoners reported respectfully to Lucas.
"We couldn't identify them. The brothers couldn't tell either, so Warden Miranda asked us to inform you."
Lucas raised an eyebrow.
"Any idea who they were?"
"They looked like people from a classified government department," one inmate replied.
Lucas wasn't particularly interested in managing prisoners—but taking people from his territory without notifying him was unacceptable.
In the next instant, before the inmates could even blink, Lucas vanished from the bench.
---
Amanda Waller was in the process of loading three death-row inmates into a vehicle when she turned to Warden Miranda with a frown.
"What about Floyd Lawton?" she asked.
"By his sentence, he should still have six years left here."
Miranda shrugged.
"You should ask your superiors. I wasn't the one who approved his release."
Amanda Waller gave a shallow smile and said nothing more. She got into the vehicle, eager to leave.
This prison housed someone she absolutely did not want to provoke.
But when the driver stepped on the accelerator, the SUV—boasting over four hundred horsepower—didn't move an inch.
The screeching of rubber against asphalt filled the air.
Amanda instantly drew her sidearm and aimed it at the door.
"Ma'am… I don't think we're going anywhere," the driver said, his voice trembling.
She immediately knew something was wrong.
"What gave you the impression," a cold voice echoed inside the vehicle,
"that you could take people from here without notifying me?"
Amanda swiftly holstered her gun and stepped out.
Standing before the hood was a young man, casually pressing one finger against the front of the SUV.
"Good evening," Amanda said politely, forcing a smile.
"You must be Mr. Lucas Reed. I'm Amanda Waller—please, just call me Amanda."
Lucas withdrew his finger but said nothing, simply watching her.
Seeing this, Amanda dropped the smile and spoke seriously.
"Mr. Lucas, allow me to explain. Those three are death-row inmates. Letting them rot in prison wastes their lives. Taking them with us serves a greater purpose—protecting this country."
"Of course, failing to notify you beforehand was our mistake. I apologize."
Lucas replied flatly,
"Release them. Then get lost. I won't repeat myself."
Amanda Waller and the driver suddenly felt as if they were being dragged into a lightless abyss—like sinking into the deepest ocean, suffocating.
"Release them," Amanda said hoarsely.
The driver obeyed instantly, rushing to open the rear door and dragging the three inmates out.
Moments later, the SUV sped away, carrying a furious yet helpless Amanda Waller.
And just like that—it was over.
_____
T/N:
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