Fear of online bullying.
This was clearly a self-deprecating joke.
Tony Stark wasn't lacking in emotional intelligence.
So of course, he wouldn't take it seriously and actually act like some fool who built an [Anti-Herman Armor] just to cyberbully Herman 24/7.
To be fair, even someone as brilliant as Tony Stark probably wouldn't even know where to start with such a suit—what, slap a live-streaming camera on his head all day?
"Alright, I was just asking casually..."
Realizing his question had been too blunt and direct, Tony quickly laughed it off, trying to smooth things over.
This guy…
Did he really think Herman didn't see through his intentions?
"It's fine. I don't mind."
Herman looked at Tony's clumsy acting, his smile never faltering. That smile was completely genuine, straight from the heart.
At first, Herman had felt a little guilty about troubling Tony to come all this way, thinking he might owe him a favor. But now, he could treat the whole interview as nothing more than a fair exchange.
No guilt. Mutual benefit.
Herman answered most of Tony's questions openly.
As for his physical stats? He'd never formally tested them, but roughly speaking, he had the strength to lift a building. Speed? Much faster than any modern supersonic jet.
Herman was sincere.
Tony, pleased with the data he'd gathered, also cooperated with the reporters for a round of Q&A.
"Alright, since the interview's over, I should get going. You know I've got other worlds to deal with. As for Bucky, I've already found a lead—shouldn't take long before I figure out the truth."
With that flimsy excuse, Tony made his exit.
Watching Tony's departing figure, Herman's smile grew brighter.
He was truly looking forward to the birth of the [Anti-Herman Armor].
How to put it? Herman had always admired Tony's genius, but he was absolutely certain that the [Anti-Herman Armor] was destined to fail.
"I didn't lie. I just didn't tell the whole truth."
Herman chuckled, withdrawing his gaze as he headed toward the elevator.
He hadn't deceived Tony about his stats, but he hadn't mentioned one important fact either.
He wasn't a Kryptonian whose power spiked under the sun, but as a newborn totem god, Herman was constantly growing stronger. Every moment, every day, his progress was significant. Within a week or two, he'd already be an entirely different being.
Building an [Anti-Herman Armor] based on his current data? Herman could already see Tony's inevitable failure.
He hadn't lied. Tony had just never asked if he could grow even stronger.
And for a genius like Tony, designing a specialized suit would take weeks—maybe months.
But for Herman, a month or two was more than enough time to trample his former self underfoot without effort. How could Tony's armor possibly matter?
"Likes causing trouble? That's exactly why I love Tony Stark!"
Herman couldn't wait to see Tony's reaction once he realized the armor was useless.
What he really wanted was to watch Tony pour his heart into the [Anti-Herman Armor], only to fail over and over, frustration written all over his face.
"And when he finally unveils it, I can even pretend I gave it everything I had, barely managing to scrape by with a narrow win?"
Riding the elevator upward, Herman's mind brimmed with mischievous schemes.
Tony had been the one to break the rules first, so Herman felt zero guilt. He wasn't worried about backfiring either. Even without factoring in his constant growth, every week Herman gained a new identity.
The power and abilities he drew from those identities were so vast that even Herman himself, wielder of the [All-Seeing Eye], couldn't fully grasp them.
[Anti-Herman Armor]?
Herman didn't even know what powers he might awaken next—how could Tony possibly know how to counter him? That so-called armor was doomed to be nothing more than a joke.
"Jarvis! Is the information log complete?"
Tony Stark had no idea Herman had already arranged everything for him. The playboy still thought he'd gathered valuable intel.
Back at his newly renovated villa, Tony began integrating today's data into the design blueprint for the [Anti-Homelander Armor Project]. He had already built the new element reactor.
With the threat of palladium poisoning no longer hanging over his head, Tony's fighting spirit and passion for life reignited. Of course, "life" here meant invention and creation. After his time at the mountain villa, Tony seemed to have grown quite a bit.
For days now, he hadn't gone chasing after women. All his energy was focused on developing his latest armor model and the [Anti-Homelander Armor].
"Increase all my recorded information and data by twenty percent—no, make it fifty. We need to guarantee absolute superiority."
Tony never believed Herman had told him everything. He suspected Herman had held back some of his stats and abilities.
"Yes, sir."
Jarvis dutifully carried out Tony's orders.
"Oh, and add a few more abilities to the model. Let me think... psychic domination? And everything the online crowd speculated might be among Homelander's powers." Tony wasn't afraid of setting himself an almost impossible challenge.
"I'll find a way to counter it."
Staring at the completed "Homelander" information model, Tony felt clever, convinced he had accounted for every trump card Herman might be hiding.
However...
What was the truth?
Tony's precautions were sound—there was nothing wrong with his caution. He truly had taken Herman very seriously.
But as Iron Man, his imagination was still too limited. He didn't realize all his efforts would end up as nothing more than outdated toys.
A few hidden cards?
Try a mountain of them.
A fifty percent physical boost? That was as far as Iron Man's imagination went. And that model compiling Homelander's supposed abilities was downright laughable.
After all, even Herman himself didn't know what new abilities he might gain each week.
...
Herman took the elevator upstairs.
In the film studio, a group of employees were still gathered in the lobby watching TV. As expected, Quicksilver was stationed at the entrance, ogling bikini models.
Lately his tastes had grown bolder—he'd even started favoring photos of dark-skinned women, calling it "healthy skin tones."
Ever since Herman had caught him red-handed once, Quicksilver no longer bothered hiding his magazines.
When someone said it wasn't good for him, Quicksilver would shrug it off with, "Nothing good is healthy. If it looks good, of course it isn't healthy."
Wanda, who had also caught him red-handed, refused to talk to him for the rest of the afternoon.
Wanda had tried to talk sense into him too.
"Teacher said kids shouldn't look at those magazines. Why can't you understand that?"
At school, little Wanda had become the model student—always listening to teachers, never breaking rules.
"What 'common sense for kids'? I never went to school. Of course I don't get it!" Quicksilver declared with self-righteous confidence.
Wanda was so exasperated she ignored him for several days.
"Later, could you run to Siberia and get us some Siberian potatoes? Tonight I'll stir-fry some ingredients and we'll have hotpot."
Herman understood Quicksilver. He knew the boy was going through puberty.
"Just cut back on that weird stuff." He simply couldn't wrap his head around Quicksilver's preference.
"I'll go right now!"
Quicksilver had already gotten used to acting as the delivery guy for nearly the entire planet. He enjoyed the peculiar thrill of running.
"Has your speed gotten a lot faster lately?" Herman asked, recalling how quickly the last few orders had arrived.
Where Chinese takeout used to take three or four hours, Quicksilver now managed to fetch things from China in just about two.
That kind of growth was remarkable.
"Yeah! You told me shopping would help train my speed, and it really worked. These days, my speed is almost double what it used to be!"
Quicksilver was genuinely excited about his progress.
"Is that so..."
Herman felt a bit uneasy, his tone tinged with guilt. The advice had only been a ploy to get Quicksilver to run errands for him.
He never expected...
...it would actually work!?
"Yeah! Your method really works!"
Quicksilver was convinced his progress came from all those delivery runs.
"As long as it works, one day you'll become the fastest man in the world!" Herman patted him on the shoulder with encouragement.
No matter how you looked at it, Quicksilver really had gotten faster.
The trick of sending him out for takeout would never be exposed, and that alone made Herman quite pleased.
"The fastest man? I'll aim for that!"
Quicksilver, fired up, didn't even bother opening his black girls special edition.
In a flash of lightning, he bolted straight toward Siberia. He didn't take the stairs—he literally jumped out the window.
"Quicksilver can... spark with electricity?" Herman muttered as he watched him vanish, uncertain if he was misremembering the character's abilities.
After all, in the Wanda and Quicksilver sibling comics, with a gorgeous younger sister to look at, who really paid that much attention to the brother?
The fact Herman remembered anything about Quicksilver's setup was already impressive.
"Did you send him shopping again?"
Cross was repairing a broken office chair. He had already caught the culprit—the boy who ran like the wind.
"Hot pot tonight."
Herman announced the plan to everyone.
Carrie immediately cheered, and even Aunt May, who couldn't handle spicy food, looked eager.
"Oh, Skye, don't stop the online trolls. Keep hammering those people calling me Homelander. Make it clear to the public that my title should be Superman."
Herman brewed himself a cup of coffee. Holding the steaming mug, he headed to his office, but not before calling out his reminder to Skye.
Yes, Herman still hadn't given up on changing what people called him.
"Got it!"
Skye flashed him an OK sign.
Now she was the biggest troll commander in the U.S. But even with that clout, Skye felt whitewashing Herman's image was nearly impossible.
The belief that he was "Homelander" was far too ingrained. Forget others—even on her own phone, she had a few Herman memes stashed away.
"A bunch of clueless netizens!"
Pushing open the office door with his coffee, Herman stepped inside. His executive chair, which normally faced the entrance, was now turned with its back toward the door. His eyes narrowed.
"Baldy."
Over the backrest, he saw a shiny dark head gleaming under the light.
"My name is Nick Fury. Since you don't like being called Homelander, I'd prefer you not hand out nicknames either."
The chair swiveled around.
...
A one-eyed man in an eyepatch fiddled with Herman's Rubik's Cube while fixing him with his remaining eye.
"This should be our first meeting, Herman Chu."
Nick Fury placed the cube on the table, flashing a mysterious smile—clearly convinced his dramatic entrance was cool.
"Did you climb in through the window?"
Herman walked over, pulling a climbing rope up from outside.
"Ahem."
Nick Fury had wanted to look stylish. He loved appearing mysteriously in people's homes, catching them off guard. But this time, his infiltration had been blown wide open.
As a WWII veteran, Nick Fury had always favored straightforward methods.
But now, that simplicity left him embarrassed. Herman didn't react with shock at all—he wasn't even surprised that Fury was there.
"I told you to pack it up! Did you ignore me?" Fury stormed to the window, roaring at the agents below, disguised as street vendors.
"Sorry, Boss, the grappling hook got stuck..." one agent called up helplessly, drenched in sweat. Maybe this was what made the best agents slip up—they only made the simplest mistakes?
"Where's Bob? Wasn't he handling the retrieval?" Fury's eye sharpened, narrowing on a vendor pushing a food cart.
"Boss! Sorry, a crowd came to buy grilled squid. I couldn't blow my cover—and besides, that was a big sale!"
Agent Bob looked sincerely apologetic.
He was still grilling a massive skewer of squid. Across the stall, a couple waiting for their food glanced from Bob to Fury's head sticking out the upstairs window. Both thought these two were completely unhinged.
Boss?
What, the grilled squid stand was a franchise now?
The couple exchanged a look and decided to leave immediately.
"Hey, don't go, it's almost ready!"
Bob shouted after them as they walked away faster.
"You still have to pay even if you don't eat it!"
His booming voice chased after them. Watching them flee, Bob scowled. "I'll track you down tonight. Think you can dine and dash on me?"
Good grief.
Only an agent could be this professional.
"..."
Upstairs, Nick Fury saw everything.
He was completely stunned.
"Now that's interesting."
Herman couldn't hold back his laughter.
He'd already sensed someone in his office, but since he couldn't read minds, he hadn't been able to confirm the intruder's identity.
Still, a shielding device like that almost guaranteed it was a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative.
Herman hadn't guessed wrong.
He just hadn't expected it to be Nick Fury himself—or that the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. would end up making such a ridiculous blunder.
Trying to act mysterious?
Total flop.
Holding the grappling rope, Herman looked at Fury with a half-smile.
"Just a minor hiccup."
Nick Fury forced a calm expression, brushing it off as he shifted the conversation to his real purpose. His opening words, however, made Herman freeze.
"Herman Chu, you must tell us—where exactly are you from?"
...
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