"Daniel, new assignment."
Daniel rolled out of bed in his 500 m² Malibu villa, phone already at his ear. Don't ask how a Level-5 S.H.I.E.L.D. agent affords ocean-view real estate; in Los Santos he owned half the city. This was pocket change.
Nick Fury's gravelly voice cut straight in: "Get next to Tony Stark. Watch everything he does, everything he builds. Report only to me."
"Wasn't this Black Widow's gig?"
"She's busy. You're up."
Daniel had heard the rumors. Black Widow: perfect record, lethal curves, half the Triskelion would canonize her bathwater. Seducing Tony would've taken her one martini and a smile.
So naturally, the honey-trap baton now landed on… him.
"Director, I sell talent, not ass," Daniel deadpanned.
Nick Fury: "???"
"I'm not telling you to sleep with him! Just get close. Method is your problem. Results are mine."
[NPC Nick Fury issued new quest]
[Quest: Shadow Tony Stark]
[Objective: Infiltrate his inner circle, monitor 24/7, report to Fury]
[Rewards: 1000 EXP, S.H.I.E.L.D. Rep +30, Random Item ×1, Random Gear ×1]
Tony quests pay like premium loot boxes, Daniel noted. Confirmed: mustache man is main-character material.
Call ended. Time to pack.
Black Widow would've faked a résumé, slid into Stark Industries, and replaced Pepper in three days flat.
Daniel's problem: wrong chromosomes.
Cross-dressing was an option, but efficiency mattered more than kink exploration today.
Shortcut it is.
10880 Malibu Point, seaside mansion.
Deep underground, Tony tinkered with the Mark III, humming to AC/DC. Sleeker lines, gold-red paint, and—most importantly—actual flight capability. Never again would he sprint from explosions like a chump.
A wall-mounted TV droned the news:
"Tonight, the Los Angeles Firefighters Family Fund gala awaits its star donor, Tony Stark—still nowhere to be seen…"
Tony frowned. "Jarvis, were we invited?"
"No record of invitation, sir."
The anchor kept digging: "Following Mr. Stark's bizarre press conference, experts speculate possible non-human trauma in Afghanistan—"
Tony's eye twitched. "Jarvis, buy that network. Make them run shirtless photos of me for a week with the caption 'Picture of Health.'"
"Already drafting the hostile takeover, sir."
"Also, tell Happy to drive me to this damn gala."
"Mr. Hogan is currently hospitalized, sir."
"Hospitalized?"
"Unprovoked assault. Suspect: male, black hair, black eyes, pink polo shirt, beach shorts. Mr. Hogan reports the attacker used excessive but stylish force."
Tony blinked twice. "Pink polo…?"
"Sir, unregistered visitor at the front door. Same description."
Tony: "…"
Self-delivery service, how thoughtful.
"Lock everything down—"
Too late.
A perfect circular hole appeared in the lab ceiling. A figure dropped through, landing in a crouch, diamond pickaxe resting casually on one shoulder.
"Found you!"
Same line.
Same entrance.
Same lunatic.
Tony's face went Fury-level dark. "You again."
Daniel waved like they were old college buddies. "Miss me?"
His gaze locked onto the holographic Mark III spinning slowly in mid-air.
"New suit? Sexy. Way better than that walking trashcan you escaped in."
Tony snapped his fingers; the hologram vanished. "Get to the point before I test the new repulsors on your face."
Daniel grinned wide. "Easy, boss. I'm here to apply for the bodyguard position."
Tony: "?"
If you hadn't said it out loud, I would never have guessed.