"Come on, open your mouth—have a bite of this." Andrew held the crispy fried dough stick to Wendy's lips.
Wendy's cheeks turned a bright red. She hesitated a second, then parted her lips slightly and took a delicate bite. Her pearly teeth sank into the dough, and after chewing for a moment, she swallowed with a soft gulp.
That simple breakfast ended up taking Andrew a full hour to finish.
When the young maid, her clothes a little disheveled, finally began clearing the table, Andrew, fully refreshed, hopped into a BMW M6 and drove straight to the S.H.I.E.L.D. base.
"I heard you and Agent Hill had a nice chat last night?"
Nick Fury, his one good eye sharp as ever, eyed Andrew, who practically radiated satisfaction.
"You still don't realize how popular I am with women, do you? You're jealous. Just admit it," Andrew teased as he sprawled across Fury's desk.
"So, what did you want to talk to me about?"
"We found a German World War II aircraft in Iceland, just north of New York. According to our team's investigation, it's been buried in the ice for nearly seventy years." Fury's tone was serious as he met Andrew's gaze.
"I don't know how you always seem to know things before they happen. And you never look surprised. Still, I've got one question for you."
Andrew nodded. "Shoot."
"Are you really from the future?" Fury asked, a grin forming as soon as the words left his mouth.
"Ever seen Back to the Future?"
"Of course. That movie was my childhood favorite."
"Then you understand the concept of a time paradox, right?"
"You mean the idea that the past and future are locked in place? That even if you know what's coming, you can't change the outcome?" Fury mused, stroking his chin.
"Bingo. Everything I know is something that's about to happen. I can tinker with small things, but the big events? I'm powerless. I've even noticed that if I try to change the outcome of those major events, time itself will erase me like I was never part of the equation." For once, Andrew looked completely serious.
"So, do you want to know what's coming next?"
"Better not. But how can I trust what you're saying is true?"
"Thor's coming to Earth—Odin's idea. He's going to be tested and grow stronger. Meanwhile, Loki will send a super-soldier here. It's called the Destroyer," Andrew said, watching Fury carefully.
"The Destroyer?"
"A robot made by Odin. Shoots divine fire, melts everything in its path." Andrew smirked. "Only Thor can stop it. You and I wouldn't even scratch it."
Fury looked rattled. "Not even you?"
Andrew nodded. The movies made it look easy, but he knew better. The Destroyer was no pushover.
He still hadn't figured out what its weakness was. Physical attacks? Worthless. Magic? Don't even try.
Its power source remained a mystery too.
If they could get their hands on the original, Ethan and the team could probably reverse-engineer some incredible new enhancements for the Hellfire Armor.
Asgard might seem primitive on the surface, but their tech was light-years ahead of Earth's. Even their teleportation systems were centuries more advanced.
"Still, we need to prepare. We can't let civilians get caught in the crossfire," Andrew said, shifting gears mentally.
"I hear you. Oh, by the way—want to meet one of your dad's old buddies?" Fury asked casually.
"Ugh, not now. We're not even the same generation. It'll be painfully awkward." Andrew suddenly felt like a kid being dragged to visit some unfamiliar uncle during the holidays. Worse, he'd probably have to bow and call him "uncle" too.
Even more awkward would be the guy saying something like, "I held you as a baby! You even nursed from my wife!"
"Well then, I won't keep you here for lunch," Fury said, checking his watch.
"Hey, come on! You always boot me out when it's mealtime. You're seriously stingy," Andrew grumbled.
"Mr. Stark," Fury said with a smirk, "our budget comes from the United Nations. Every cent has to be accounted for. But if you're okay with it, you're welcome to stay for a working lunch."
"No thanks. No sincerity at all. Just wait—someday I'll start my own organization and hire you as my subordinate. And I promise, you'll never have to worry about funding again."
"I'll be waiting," Fury replied, flashing his blindingly white smile.
"Hey, Tony, it's me."
As Andrew exited the base, his phone rang. It was an old voice—Coulson.
"Hey, old buddy! Where've you been raking in the dough lately?" Andrew asked, steering the M6 one-handed down a New York street.
Beep beep....
A flashy red Ferrari behind him flashed its high beams into his mirror. Seconds later, the engine roared, and the Ferrari overtook him.
Andrew glanced over. Inside were a young American man and woman, drinking beer and singing loudly. The only thing missing was a hot pot bubbling on the dash.
If they'd just passed him, fine. But the girl in the passenger seat had the nerve to flip him off!
The driver howled with laughter.
Drunk driving?
Andrew shook his head and eased off the accelerator.
"What's up, Tony?" Coulson asked, hearing the silence.
"Nothing. Just some punk kids. So what did you want?"
Because now, the Ferrari had slowed down intentionally blocking his lane.
"I found something about Victor"
"Hold that thought. Whatever it is, it can wait."
Andrew casually tossed the phone onto the seat and floored the gas pedal.
Vroom...
The M6 surged forward and rammed straight into the rear of the Ferrari.
Clang...
With more weight up front than back, the Ferrari spun out of control and crashed into the roadside shrubbery.
Andrew calmly pulled over and stepped out.
As he walked toward the wreck, he buttoned his suit jacket.
The young couple had been protected by the airbags. Not a scratch on them.
"F**k you!" the guy roared, climbing out with a metal baseball bat.
"You wrecked my damn car! I'll kill you!"
(End of Chapter)
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