Trying to play tyrant in a small town is already a risky game, you never know which night someone might sneak in and take your head off.
Now imagine trying that in a top-tier metropolis like Veracruz, where power struggles are layered and vicious. Even the most seasoned veterans wouldn't dare claim they fully understand the city's political landscape.
Yet, someone had managed to do just that unify Veracruz, seizing control of its complex drug networks.
That feat alone was no easier than building a business empire from scratch in New York—possibly even harder.
But then again, they had Hydra backing them the world's most powerful underground organization. Money, manpower, technology… they had it all.
"This Victor and Norman Osborn aren't ordinary men. Just the two of them helped some nobody named Sam take over Veracruz. But what does any of this have to do with getting revenge on Tony Stark?"
Tony rubbed his bald head, still struggling to connect the dots.
"Even if Victor and Osborn teamed up, Tony still drove them into hiding. Now they're throwing their weight around in Veracruz, but I doubt they're any real threat to him yet, right?"
Charles gave a slight smile and glanced at the large cigar in his hand.
"They're not enough on their own but what if we add ourselves and Hydra to the mix?"
"You mean…"
"Exactly. If we play our cards right, we just might pull it off."
"Big Bro, Second Bro… what are you even talking about? I don't understand a word," said Tiger, looking completely lost.
The two older brothers exchanged a knowing look and laughed.
Meanwhile, Watson was already sweating bullets. Remembering how ruthless the three brothers could be, he couldn't help but feel a chill for Tony Stark.
"Grant, send someone to tail Tony Stark. I want to know his entire itinerary, every place he visits, everyone he meets, where he sleeps, and which woman he sleeps with."
"Consider it done."
"In short, I want every detail. I don't care if it's whether he uses protection or what brand he prefers."
Last night, the rain was sparse, but the wind howled. Even deep sleep couldn't shake the lingering haze of alcohol.
Perhaps driven by emotion, Nova had shown a strength far beyond what her body should allow.
The poet had said it best "a gentle village is a hero's grave."
Andrew had Happy drive him to the office. Even though Pepper was a superb executive, he still made it a point to show up at least once a week.
Not for work, necessarily someone had to "water" and "fertilize" the company's fresh crop of young talents. After all, even green plants need sunlight to grow.
Just look at how all the young women at Stark Industries had made Nova their role model—dressing up, working hard, all in hopes of catching Andrew's eye.
But today, drained and unfocused, Andrew had no time for flirting. He headed straight to Ethan's lab.
Word had it the old man had made a breakthrough in armor design, remote disassembly and reassembly. That meant Andrew's Mark 7 Hellfire Armor was almost ready for deployment.
"Hey, Ethan."
Andrew greeted him with a smile and casually picked up a metallic wristband from the table.
"What's this?"
Ethan adjusted his glasses and took a closer look.
"That's a mech-sensing wristband. When you wear it, the armor uses light-based scanning to locate your body precisely. It can then deploy and equip itself onto you from a distance with pinpoint accuracy."
Andrew's interest was piqued.
"Do you have a working version I can test?"
"Press the red center."
Beep.
Andrew followed the instruction. A beam of infrared light shot out, and the previously dormant armor nearby began to glow blue and shift.
The armor began transforming slowly, with each component locking into place on his body in perfect alignment with the signal.
"This is amazing," he said, watching as the armor gradually encased him.
"Don't worry, Ethan. We'll have plenty of time to refine it. And I'll be bringing in an assistant soon he's got seven PHDs, a genius in genetic engineering, mechanics, and computer science."
Once fully suited, he moved a bit—felt the difference. It was noticeably more agile than the Mark III model.
Speaking of assistants… where had Spider-Man run off to?
"Ethan, why haven't I seen Parker lately? Did he take a break?"
Ethan hesitated.
"Peter's been acting a little off. His personality's changed. He talks weird sometimes… but maybe it's just typical teenage stuff. I punched my dad once at that age."
"Oh...sorry, Mr. Ethan! Traffic was terrible…"
Peter's voice came from outside. Moments later, he burst into the lab, still pulling on his coat, just in time to see Andrew fiddling with the armor.
"Uh...good morning, Mr. Stark."
"You mean good afternoon."
Andrew raised his wrist and glanced coldly at his watch. It was already eleven.
"Sorry, I was up late gaming, and traffic"
Punctuality isn't just a suggestion in America. When you agree to a time, you show up on time.
In Spider-Man 2, Peter Parker was five minutes late delivering pizza. The customer refused to pay, and Peter couldn't argue. Then he got fired.
Andrew continued staring at him.
"Peter, this isn't the first time. And now you're lying."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, I ..." He glanced at Ethan, clearly holding something back.
"Should I give you two a moment?"
Ethan caught on. Teenagers often struggle to open up when others are around.
"No need, Ethan. You and Peter have a mentor-mentee bond. You're one of the few people I trust completely. That's why I hope you can help Spider-Man through whatever's troubling him."
(End of Chapter)
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