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"We have a new script!"
Under the stares of Fury, Stark, and Natasha, Anthony's expression shifted.
The perfect smile vanished.
"Anthony..." he whispered the name as though it were an incantation.
"No..." Anthony lifted his head, eyes rimmed red with the vast sorrow of one who had returned from the dead only to find the world changed.
"Are you all right?" Steve Rogers caught it first, his voice softening.
"I remembered something..."
"That's right... I am Anthony Starr."
The moment the words left his lips, the air in the conference room froze.
Tony Stark's casually crossed leg slowly lowered.
Natasha leaned forward a fraction.
Fury's single eye locked onto him, searching for the tiniest crack.
"Impossible," Agent Hill murmured behind them. "Anthony Starr died a year ago..."
"I didn't die."
And so Anthony began his performance.
"I remember the storm..." His voice dropped, heavy with pain.
"The yacht capsized, the icy water closed over me—I thought that was the end."
"I lost consciousness. I thought everything was finished."
"When I woke again..." He paused, letting the suspense build, "I was in a place I can't describe."
"What place?" Fury pressed at once.
"A place without light, without darkness. I don't know how long I was there." Anthony deployed his favorite tactic—vague details that let the listener's imagination run wild.
"Then something found me."
"What something?" Tony couldn't help asking.
"I don't know." Anthony shook his head in anguish.
"They erased most of my memories—including what they looked like. I only recall them remaking me, experimenting on me, giving me this—"
He lifted his hand and studied his palm.
"—giving me this power. This curse."
"When I came to, I was on a deserted island... I don't know how long it took to control the power. I learned to fly, and I flew back to the mainland."
"But I couldn't even remember where home was..."
His act reached its pivotal moment of self-exposure.
"I became a monster, didn't I?" He gave a bitter smile.
"I could hear heartbeats miles away, see straight through to your bones."
He suddenly looked at Natasha: "Agent Romanoff, your pulse is racing—ninety-two beats per minute. You're nervous."
Natasha's face paled.
He turned to Tony: "Mr. Stark, that arc reactor in your chest hurts, doesn't it? Your left knee carries an old injury."
Tony's grin froze.
Finally he met Fury's glare: "Director, inside your jacket you've got an FNP-9 with thirteen rounds, one in the chamber. And a pager? Retro."
"Mother—! Enough!" Fury slammed the table.
The room fell deathly silent.
"I'm sorry." Anthony lowered his head; consummate acting made him look utterly innocent.
"I feared my power might hurt people, feared the world would brand me a monster, so I hid—like a vagrant in the city's shadows—until today..."
He raised his head; belief reignited in his eyes.
"I saw the hole in the sky! I saw aliens slaughtering my people... in my city."
"I realized... maybe I'm not a monster."
"Maybe..." He let the word hang, then delivered the crucial line: "...the reason I came back is for this moment."
...Silence.
A long, stretching silence.
Steve Rogers, the old soldier, was first to stand.
He walked to "Anthony," this man out of time who saw something of himself in the newcomer.
"...Kid," Steve said gently, "you're no monster."
He set a firm hand on Anthony's shoulder.
"You're a hero."
Ding!
A sound only Anthony could hear rang out.
System notice: Key figure "Captain America" approval detected!
"Hero" persona foundation established!
Special popularity gained: +10,000!
..."One down," Anthony sneered inwardly, while his face showed only gratitude.
"...Thank you, Captain. You're the real hero."
Tony Stark rubbed his chin, thinking.
He was skeptical—but hell, the story was wild: a shipwrecked billionaire heir remade by mysterious captors, hiding a year, then returning as a heroic sovereign?
"This script feels... familiar," Tony muttered, though he couldn't spot a flaw—yet.
Only Natasha and Fury kept their doubts alive.
Natasha didn't trust coincidences that perfect.
And Nick Fury trusted no one.
"All right, Mr. Starr," Fury said, leaning back—accepting the premise, for now.
"Welcome home."
"We'll sort out your identity. Your parents left a sizable trust. That Upper East Side apartment of yours... probably an inch deep in dust."
Fury rose and stepped closer.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. will restore your life. In return, you come when we call."
Sure—when pigs fly. "Of course." Anthony offered a compliant smile.
"I'll need somewhere... to start over."
"Good." Fury nodded, handing him a sleek smartphone.
"Agent Hill's already started the legal process to reinstate you. Your trust, your assets—they're thawing."
Fury clapped his shoulder. "Inside is the address of the apartment your parents left you. Go, kid. Get some rest. New York... thanks you."
"We'll stay in touch, right?" Fury added.
Anthony pocketed the phone, inwardly scoffing: Yeah, sure—shame my spandex doesn't have pockets. You'll have a hell of a time reaching me. But hey, scream at the sky and maybe I'll feel like showing up.
Still, the rookie had to play the grateful child for now: "Thank you, Director Fury. Thank you, all of you."
He walked to the conference-room door, paused, and flashed the Avengers his most sincere smile.
"If you need me, you know how to find me."
Whoosh—!
He became a streak of blue light and vanished from the Helicarrier.
"...Cool," Stark whistled.
"I think I like the guy."
"He might really be a hero, Tony," Steve murmured, gazing after him.
"He's a riddle, Nick," Natasha added.
"Are you sure he's the Anthony Starr? Plastic surgery isn't hard."
"Database iris scan matched," Fury answered, face dark.
He stared at the doorway; though the man had played his part flawlessly, a bad feeling lingered.
"Let's hope I'm wrong—and he's a real superhero, not an unruly god-like being."