After an extremely intense round of physical activity, the moon's far side—which was already covered in countless craters—had gained a few more.
Completely satisfied, Starfire dragged along a somewhat dispirited Joey as they departed from the dark side of the moon.
"Tired?"
Starfire giggled while using a third hand constructed from her Green Lantern ring to poke at Joey's waist. She absolutely refused to believe that level of exercise could possibly tire out her Kryptonian boyfriend.
"Doesn't someone always brag about having a body of steel?"
"Quit messing around. I don't get tired."
Spending a warm and wildly passionate Christmas night on the moon with the girl he liked really had been wonderful.
But honestly speaking, it didn't solve a single real-world problem.
Joey's issue wasn't physical exhaustion.
It was mental exhaustion.
Even in the vacuum of space, Joey could still hear Starfire happily humming an unfamiliar melody.
Sometimes he genuinely envied how simple-minded Starfire could be.
As long as she received even the tiniest bit of love, this Tamaranian girl could stay happy for an entire day.
Right now, she truly looked as though she had completely adapted to this world—just like Joey himself had yesterday, before the Fantastic Four dragged him into that paradox dimension and beat the hell out of him.
Seriously, what the hell was wrong with his life?
Surely it couldn't be possible that every single day came packaged with a fresh brutal fight waiting for him?
Beyond the nonstop battles, what worried Joey most now was still the future.
He still hadn't decided what to do with the Amazo core.
Should he secretly implant Reed Richards' hidden backdoor algorithm before handing the core and technical data over to Tony Stark while he was still Iron Man?
If Batman were here, that bastard would probably vote against it without hesitation.
Then secretly plant his own Bat-approved backdoor into the core anyway.
But Joey wasn't Batman.
And Tony wasn't some irredeemable monster either.
Hell, the guy had literally prepared Christmas presents for him just last night.
…Wait.
Hold on.
The moment that thought crossed his mind, Joey suddenly became even less eager to hand the Amazo core over to Tony immediately.
He really needed to examine it himself first.
Who knew whether Batman had secretly hidden some catastrophic failsafe inside it already?
"So where are we going now?"
Wrapped tightly inside a Green Lantern construct, Starfire drifted freely through lunar orbit without the slightest concern for whether human satellites might spot her.
Her physiology was somewhat similar to Joey's Kryptonian body. With enough ultraviolet radiation, she could survive in space for extremely long periods without protection.
The only reason she bothered wrapping herself up was because she liked her current human outfit and didn't want it exposed directly to vacuum.
In fact, she wanted to buy even more clothes.
"How about we go to Brookfield Place together? Of course, after we earn enough money first."
While selling diamonds earlier, Starfire had learned about a famous shopping center nearby.
After earning enough to fully cover that little girl's medical expenses, she absolutely intended to go there.
Tamaranian culture was passionate and uninhibited, while Tamaran itself was almost the complete opposite of human civilization—a tropical rainforest utopia with far fewer complicated social rules.
Which meant Starfire was currently fascinated by practically everything in human society.
The moment she mentioned making money, Joey immediately remembered their earlier bet.
"Remember our wager? I guarantee you're already thinking about surrendering."
From the very beginning, Joey had realized the artificial diamond strategy was completely unsustainable.
Selling one or two diamonds was fine.
But endlessly dumping them onto the market like Starfire had been doing would only lead to one outcome:
Diamond inflation.
At this point, New York's underground black market was practically flooded with fist-sized unregistered synthetic diamonds.
No wonder those gangsters had targeted Starfire earlier.
Jewelry wasn't exactly an industry operated solely by legitimate businessmen.
She'd been way too flashy.
By selling enormous quantities of flawless diamonds at absurdly low prices, she had singlehandedly crashed the diamond market across the entire East Coast.
There was no way that business could continue anymore.
"I don't remember making any bet at all!"
Fully aware she had no chance of winning, Starfire shamelessly chose to deny reality.
"I only remember you claiming you could earn enough money for that little girl's medical treatment instantly! So where's your money?"
"I…"
Joey instinctively checked his pockets.
Empty.
Only then did he suddenly remember—he'd accidentally left that giant chunk of Vibranium back at Tony's mansion.
And right now, Joey absolutely did not want to go see Tony again.
The guy was probably busy enjoying Christmas Eve with Pepper by now.
Or maybe playing chess with some magazine cover model or Hollywood actress.
After that previous disastrous teleportation incident where Joey had accidentally interrupted Tony in bed with two Slavic women 'studying foreign languages,' Joey had completely lost any interest whatsoever in peeking in on Tony's private life again—for the sake of preserving his own mental health.
Speaking of which, Joey really should find himself a place to stay. Lurking in Tony's mansion forever just wasn't a sustainable situation.
First priority—make some money.
On the streets of Manhattan, Starfire leaned against Joey while looking up at a towering skyscraper that seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky.
"Oscorp… what exactly does this company have to do with making money?"
"It has everything to do with it."
Unlike Starfire, who was still fully wrapped up from head to toe to conceal her skin tone, Joey had changed into a dark brown long coat, a white shirt underneath, and a bright red tie—a classic undercover journalist look.
"Next, I only need three sentences to make the man at the top of this building give me eight million."
"I'm looking forward to it."
Starfire didn't think Joey was exaggerating. She knew he would definitely get that eight million dollars—she was just curious how.
In truth, for someone like Joey, obtaining ordinary human currency was absurdly easy.
Cyborg had even complained more than once about how fragile the entire financial system was.
If Joey wanted, he could simply create a bank account out of thin air and add a few extra zeros to it.
But that would remove all the fun and relief of actually doing it properly.
So Joey walked into the Oscorp building with Starfire practically hanging off him—and nobody stopped them.
The lobby was open to the public, and today there were even college interns visiting from various universities across New York. The crowd was chaotic enough that no one was paying close attention.
The security guards, earning less than three thousand dollars a month, glanced at the affectionate couple, and decided it wasn't worth bothering them.
"Hello, excuse me. May I borrow some paper and a pen?"
With a polite smile, Joey got exactly what he asked for—and even the receptionist's contact information slipped in alongside it.
Before Starfire could ask what the numbers meant, Joey quickly tore away the blank portion of the paper with a sharp rip.
"No, thank you."
Holding the paper and pen, Joey looked up toward the upper laboratories. After a brief moment of thought, he began writing down a series of algorithmic expressions.
Then, in bold handwriting, he labeled it:
"Cross-Species Genetic Inheritance Decay Rate Algorithm."
Like Wayne, Lex, Queen, and Stark Industries, Oscorp was also a diversified R&D conglomerate.
Unlike Stark Tower across a few blocks—which focused primarily on weapons—Oscorp specialized in biotechnology and genetic engineering.
One of its main research directions involved cross-species genetic experiments, aiming to graft traits from animals into humans.
A display screen nearby proudly broadcast the vision of the project:
[ Imagine if humans could gain the incredible abilities found in nature's animals. ]
[ For example, people who lost limbs due to accidents might regenerate them like certain reptiles… ]
[ What a beautiful future that would be. ]
Joey could only say one thing about Oscorp's research: the intention was good—but please, for the love of science, don't improvise blindly.
Take Dr. Curt Connors upstairs, for example.
After years of research, he still hadn't figured things out.
And under immense pressure, instead of running proper multi-stage animal trials, he decided to inject himself as a human test subject.
The result?
He turned himself into a mindless lizard monster.
Also known as the Lizard—the early nightmare of Spider-Man.
Fortunately, Oscorp no longer had to worry about that problem.
A quick scan of the research data upstairs was enough for Joey to derive a proper solution tailored to the current experimental models.
Compared to the enormous future benefits this formula could bring to Oscorp and its owner Norman Osborn, the eight-million-dollar price tag was practically charitable.
"Hey. You. Yes, you."
Joey stopped a passing intern wearing an ID badge and handed him the folded sheet of paper, briefly glancing at his name.
"Rodrigo Guevara… nice name. Could you please deliver this to Dr. Curt Connors upstairs?"
The upper labs were not accessible to outsiders without clearance.
The intern hesitated.
Joey, still patiently waiting for his eight million dollars, casually pulled out a stack of cash—uncounted—and handed them over.
"Two thousand dollars. Just for running a message. Also tell Dr. Connors: this formula is only a particular solution—it has a general solution. If he's interested… I'll be waiting right here."