Chapter 99

On the streets of New York City, a black SUV sped recklessly through traffic, ignoring several red lights without a care. The traffic police quickly noticed and began pursuing the vehicle, immediately calling for backup.

"Driving like that in New York, during morning rush hour, with a speed limit of 45 kilometers per hour? You're insane," one officer muttered as they raced to catch up. The driver had already run red lights and caused multiple accidents, showing off incredible driving skills, but the arrogance infuriated the officers. "I'm going to make you regret this."

Despite their best efforts, the police couldn't keep up with the black Chevrolet SUV, which expertly weaved through the congested city streets. Inside the SUV, the driver was none other than Nick Fury, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, heading straight for the seaside villa, barking orders as he drove.

"Hill, send in the Quinjets and have snipers on standby."

"Five Quinjets are already in the air and will arrive in three minutes. Snipers are on standby. The rapid response special forces, led by Rumlow, have also arrived," Hill's calm voice came through Fury's earpiece.

Fury didn't respond but issued another command. "Get rid of the pursuers behind me."

"Understood."

After giving the order, Fury slammed on the accelerator, speeding like a black bolt of lightning, carelessly ignoring the red lights and traffic. Behind him, screeching brakes and the sound of crashing cars filled the air, but Fury paid no mind. His focus was on the projected route displayed on his windshield.

"Someone's actually managed to break into the villa, and the perimeter security system didn't react. This is bad," Fury muttered, frowning.

Tony Stark was originally just a contingency plan in Fury's larger strategy—an afterthought, really. He hadn't paid too much attention to Stark, certainly not as much as the Hulk, who was being hunted by the military. But that changed when S.H.I.E.L.D. followed the faint tire tracks of a military convoy into the desert, where they discovered the remains of a canyon buried by an enormous explosion, 330 meters deep. Everything inside was destroyed.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had invested significant resources to dig out what remained of the site. They found corpses blown to pieces, offering few clues as to how Tony had escaped. But what they unearthed in that cave was a startling discovery—a massive, crude steel armor. Though damaged, it had survived the explosion, and after repairs by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s scientists, the full suit of armor was restored.

To Fury's surprise, the suit, despite its rough design, was highly functional. Experts confirmed that it had been powered by an energy source, which immediately made Fury think of Tony's arc reactor. Surveillance footage showed that Tony had been holed up in his villa, ordering parts from major corporations, suggesting that he was working on something even more advanced.

If Tony had built such a suit under extreme conditions in a cave, Fury had no doubt that his second set of armor would be even more sophisticated and deadly. This newfound knowledge made Stark's value skyrocket, not to mention the intel he held about the mysterious woman only Tony and Colonel Rhodes knew about.

Nothing could happen to Tony. Fury couldn't let that happen.

"I hope I'm not too late, Howard. You'd better hope your son doesn't die on my watch," Fury muttered.

Meanwhile, inside the seaside villa, a strange silence filled the room. Wanda and Pietro stared at Tony, who stood before them calmly, accepting his fate. Their emotions were conflicted. Tony was their enemy, yet they couldn't help but admire the courage he was displaying at this moment.

Natasha stood behind Tony, her arms crossed, watching quietly. Her red lips curled slightly as she already had a sense of where the situation was headed.

"Wanda..." Pietro hesitated, glancing at his sister.

Wanda didn't look back, her gaze fixed on Tony. Her eyes flashed red, and in an instant, she vanished and reappeared before him like a ghost. She pressed her index finger against the arc reactor on Tony's chest.

"If I apply just a little pressure, you'll die."

"Wow, that's not a great way to go. If the reactor is punctured, it'll cause a radiation leak, affecting the environment around us. Jarvis, send an evacuation message," Tony said, remaining calm despite knowing the painful death awaiting him.

But Wanda interrupted. "No need."

Tony looked at her with confusion. "What?"

"Everything you said is true. My abilities allow me to sense your emotions. You're not like some of the others, Tony." Wanda's voice softened, though her eyes still burned with anger. "I didn't originally plan to kill you like this. I was going to control your mind, make you a puppet. You'd be trapped in a world I created—like hell. The souls of those killed by Stark's weapons would tear at your consciousness until I died."

Wanda's voice dripped with intensity, but her tone was calculated. "From your memories, I saw that Stark Industries' primary partner is the U.S. military, right?"

Tony nodded. "Yes."

Stark Industries, founded by his father during World War II, had thrived on war profits. It was a leader in arms manufacturing, and the U.S. military had always been its biggest client. Due to legal agreements, the company couldn't sell advanced weapons to other countries without facing suppression from the U.S. government.

Wanda's anger slowly subsided, her face becoming calmer. "If you hadn't shut down the arms division, you would certainly be dead by now. But I saw your memories. I see that faint trace of conscience. Thank you for that, Mr. Stark."

With that, she turned and walked toward the villa's exit. Pietro, hands behind his head, followed her with a resigned expression, glancing back at his sister's retreating figure. He had no choice but to follow.

Tony stood there in stunned silence, watching the twins leave. He turned to Natasha, who had been silently observing the entire situation. "So...what was that?"

"Your performance was flawless. I'm impressed. I've come to see you in a new light, Mr. Stark." Natasha winked playfully at Tony before turning to leave.

As her figure disappeared through the door, her slightly husky voice echoed back. "Don't forget our deal. I'm looking forward to our next meeting."

Her voice lingered, seductive and mysterious, but instead of feeling relieved, Tony was left with a deep sense of confusion and fear. When faced with death, he had felt calm—accepting. But now, finding himself alive, a flood of emotions overwhelmed him.

"I'm not looking forward to that next meeting at all."

His legs trembling from the ordeal, Tony wobbled over to the sofa and collapsed onto it, breathing heavily.

"It's been a rough day, Jarvis."

"I'm glad you didn't die, sir."

"Yeah, me too," Tony muttered, fatigue washing over him. He had been awake for two days, and the intensity of the situation finally caught up with him. Leaning back on the sofa, he slowly closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.

Meanwhile, several Quinjet fighters hovered silently above the villa. Due to the villa's secluded location, the Quinjets remained stationary, their anti-gravity engines allowing them to hover perfectly in place. The hatch of one of the Quinjets opened, and an elite sniper lay prone, aiming his rifle at the villa's living room.

Through his scope, he saw only Tony, slumped on the sofa, alive but clearly exhausted. The room around him was a wreck; weapons on the ceiling, floor, and walls had been twisted and destroyed by an unseen force.

The sniper's eyes widened in shock. Had the target been killed? He checked again, noticing Tony's chest slowly rising and falling—he was alive.

The sniper quickly covered his earpiece. "Director."

"What's the situation?" came the reply.

"The intruder in the villa is nowhere to be found. The target is still alive, but appears to be in poor condition, possibly unconscious on the sofa."

Ziiiip—

Outside the seaside villa, a black Chevrolet screeched to a halt. With a loud bang, the engine shut off as Nick Fury stepped out of the vehicle. Almost simultaneously, the Rapid Response Special Forces, led by Agent Rumlow of S.H.I.E.L.D., arrived fully armed, securing the area around the villa.

Rumlow, wearing a S.H.I.E.L.D. Kevlar combat uniform and sporting a bit of stubble, approached Fury. "Ready to move in, sir?" he asked.

"Proceed immediately, but be cautious," Fury responded, his expression serious.

Rumlow nodded, raising his right fist to signal the team. "Advance in formation, watch all sides," he ordered quietly. More than 30 heavily armed agents, led by Rumlow, moved in a coordinated pattern toward the villa, with Fury following behind.

The villa's perimeter security had already been neutralized by the time the special forces arrived, making the advance seamless. The artificial intelligence, Jarvis, recognized the identities of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and did not trigger any alarms. After all, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had the proper credentials, and the defense systems had been completely dismantled by whatever force had attacked earlier.

Once inside, the team secured the building, making sure there were no lingering threats. Meanwhile, Fury strode across the room to where Tony lay on the sofa, deeply asleep from exhaustion. Fury bent down and, without hesitation, slapped Tony's face hard.

The forceful slap stirred Tony from his sleep. Groggily, he opened his eyes and squinted up at the dark face and bald head looming over him. "Jarvis... where'd the egghead come from?" Tony muttered, half-conscious.

The agents nearby struggled to suppress their laughter, though their professional demeanor kept them mostly in check.

Fury, expressionless, gave Tony another firm slap, this time out of pure retaliation. The crisp smack echoed through the room, snapping Tony fully awake. Annoyed, Tony swatted away Fury's hand, rubbed his reddening cheek, and glared up at him. "So... who the hell are you?"

"I'm here to save you," Fury replied dryly.

"Save me? By slapping me in the face?" Tony rubbed his sore cheek again, clearly unimpressed. His expression warned Fury that if there wasn't a good explanation, things might get ugly.

At that moment, Rumlow approached. "Sir, we've completed the sweep. No one else is here; looks like they cleared out."

Fury nodded, and Rumlow stepped back, giving Fury room to continue the conversation with Tony.

"So," Fury said, turning back to Tony, his voice low and serious, "shall we talk?"

Tony stared at him for a moment, feeling the weight of Fury's one-eyed gaze. After a brief pause, Tony pushed himself off the sofa, wandered over to the bar, and poured himself a drink. He glanced around at the agents securing the perimeter outside before taking a sip of whiskey, letting the alcohol jolt his tired nerves.

Leaning against the bar, Tony crossed his arms and gave Fury a skeptical look. "So, what's your deal? FBI? CIA?"

"Nice guess," Fury said with a hint of sarcasm. "I'm the director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I've heard that name before. Didn't I tell someone that your agency's name was way too long and convoluted?"

"We've shortened it since then," Fury replied dryly. "But let's get to the point, Tony. What are you hiding?"

Fury's piercing gaze locked onto Tony, not letting him evade the question.