New York City citizens might rave about the red figure swinging between skyscrapers, but if one were to truly discuss the city's real top celebrity, everyone's answer would be the same—Tony Stark.
Yes, that's the man who, clad in gold and red armor, openly declared "I am Ironman" in front of the world's media.
Billionaire, inventor, Chairman of Stark Industries, physicist, philanthropist, and a core member of the Avengers, he has countless titles.
He is not only a regular on newspaper headlines but also, in a sense, a symbol of this city; even authoritative media like The New York State Journal always reserves a special place for him on its pages—this isn't a privilege, it's a given.
In contrast, Spiderman's appearances are relegated to the Daily Bugle; the two are simply not in the same league.
Even the Osborn Group, another business giant, whether it was the late Norman Osborn or the current helmsman Harry Osborn, never enjoyed such attention.
Tony Stark, the name itself means news; wherever he appears, swarms of media professionals flock to him.
And at this very moment, he was hovering above a military encirclement, his gold and red armor reflecting a cold and dazzling sheen in the setting sun, with a dense array of Stark drones behind him like a swarm of bees, creating an overwhelming sense of pressure.
"Ironman!!"
Captain Lister, who was commanding on the ground, practically gritted out the name.
His face was extremely pale; despite his efforts to remain calm, his taut jawline and slightly twitching eye betrayed him.
The era of Mutants might be waning, but the X-Men are still active, and the Mutant Brotherhood continues its activities in the shadows. The "research" being conducted in this base must never be exposed.
"Dr. Rice, Ironman has discovered our base. What should we do?" Captain Lister asked in a hushed voice, his gaze fixed on the suffocating swarm of drones in the sky.
He tightened his grip on the rifle in his hand, yet he knew clearly that this weapon was meaningless in the face of Stark's technology.
Tony Stark is not Spiderman; that kid in the spandex suit at most does some street justice and deals with bank robbers.
But Stark? He represents capital, technology, political influence, and everything symbolized by that damned "Avengers" title.
Provoking him is akin to provoking trouble from an entire system simultaneously.
Rice did not answer immediately; instead, he took a deep breath before quietly giving the order not to let Ironman know about the research institute, and to send him away if possible.
As a clear-headed person, Captain Lister strictly followed Dr. Rice's instructions. He forced a smile that wasn't really a smile, looked up, and shouted:
"It's the famous Ironman. I regret to inform you, the Spiderman you're looking for is not here. Also, this is a military controlled zone; any unauthorized personnel are prohibited from entering. Please leave as soon as possible."
Tony, hovering in the sky, scoffed, his voice amplified through external speakers, exaggerated and dramatic:
"Wow, a military controlled zone? Unauthorized entry prohibited? How—terrifying." He deliberately drew out his tone, and anyone could hear the sarcasm in it.
With a gesture, Tony commanded: "Jarvis, send the little thing we just acquired to this Officer's phone. Let him take a look too."
"Yes, Mr. Stark." The AI butler Jarvis's response was calm and swift.
In less than a second, it had completed face recognition, identity confirmation, and found Captain Lister's private number, a process that could be described as precise and efficient.
Ding—
Captain Lister's phone rang. He looked at it, and the screen was filled with dense experimental data, dissection photos, gene sequences—all the deepest, darkest secrets of this base.
Tony remained casually suspended in the air, as if he were merely engaging in an afternoon tea chat.
"By the way, I got this little gift without applying for any 'authorization.' But I'm confident that by tomorrow morning, no, perhaps even in a moment—it will be on the front page of every news outlet in the world."
Captain Lister's face turned from ashen to deathly white. Without even asking Dr. Rice, he knew how immense the impact would be if this information got out.
He knew better than anyone that there were only a few people in the entire world who could silently infiltrate the base's core database in such a way. And Tony Stark was definitely one of them.
After more than ten seconds, Captain Lister and Dr. Rice both chose to yield.
"Mr. Stark," Captain Lister took a step forward, his tone much softer, "it seems we made a mistake. Spiderman... is indeed inside the base. However..."
At the end of his sentence, he changed his tone, asking with a probing voice, "I'm a bit curious, you and Spiderman don't seem to be particularly good friends. Taking such a big risk for this unrelated mutant doesn't seem to benefit you much."
Mutant?
Tony, clad in his armor, raised an eyebrow. Peter Parker a Mutant? This was probably the least funny joke he had heard all year.
"Buddy, if you can prove I'm a mutant, then I'll believe Spiderman is a mutant. Perhaps you might be a mutant too, you just don't know it."
Captain Lister was speechless. He pursed his lips and had just picked up his communicator to notify the control center to release the person when an anxious, almost breaking, report came from the other end:
"Officer Lister, bad news! The data room has been infiltrated! It's Spiderman! He seems to be copying all the experimental data."
Good, very good. Ironman and Spiderman, a powerful team-up, is it?
"Tsk, that kid's getting smarter," Tony chuckled lightly after Jarvis informed him of the situation. "It seems three years of catching criminals wasn't entirely useless."
...Inside the research institute's data room.
Peter Parker had just stuffed the last hard drive containing copied data into his makeshift backpack.
Perhaps it was because his luck had truly improved, they just happened to find the data room when looking for a room to rest. He knew that sometimes these cold data were more useful than dozens of lives, so he naturally had to keep a backup.
While copying the data, he quickly browsed some files.
Just one glance made his stomach churn; the so-called "research" on mutants was far more cruel than he had imagined, even darker than the records he had seen in S.H.I.E.L.D. files.
Just then, the previously dark computer screen in front of him suddenly lit up, and a large, gold and red metallic face filled the entire screen.
"Wow! It's Ironman!" a child exclaimed.
Peter, however, was so startled that he did a backflip and stuck himself to the ceiling.
"Oh! An electronic ghost!... Alright, it's Ironman." He sighed in relief, but still maintained his upside-down posture, unable to resist complaining, "But Mr. Stark, how did you get into this big-headed computer? That's pretty cool, but next time, could you give a heads-up?"
"Alright, Pajama Boy, humor time's over." Tony's voice on the screen was fast. "I've cleaned up your mess outside, now get the kids and all of you come out."
"Wait!" Peter quickly stopped him. "Mr. Stark, you need to prove you're the real deal first. Just a helmet doesn't say much. Just last week, I ran into a group of bank robbers, and it wasn't just someone cosplaying the Hulk and the guy with the hammer, but Ironman too."
"...That's enough." Tony's voice held a hint of helplessness. The next second, his faceplate clicked upwards, revealing his globally recognized face, his eyes seemingly saying, "I'm really done with you."
"Is this good enough? Do you want me to strike a classic pose or make an official statement or something?"
"No, no!" Peter quickly waved his hand.
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