Chapter 40

"Rorschach, looks like you've got good taste. Didn't expect you to be into this car too," Howard Stark chuckled as he caught Rorschach admiring the sleek red Cadillac parked in the garage.

He gave Rorschach a playful nudge and offered, "Wanna take it for a spin later? After dinner, of course. I'll toss you the keys, let you see what she can do."

"Seriously, Mr. Stark?"

"Of course! No big deal," Howard grinned.

"That sounds great. I'm looking forward to it," Rorschach replied, barely hesitating. Truth be told, he was curious—he wanted to see what made this car so special.

Just then, Jarvis, the ever-professional butler, stepped in. "Mr. Stark, Mr. Rorschach, dinner is served."

"Perfect timing," Howard said, giving Rorschach a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Come on, let's eat."

As they entered the dining room, Rorschach paused for a second, caught off guard by the sheer extravagance of the spread.

"Good grief…" he muttered under his breath.

When Jarvis had mentioned a "feast," Rorschach hadn't thought much of it. But now that he saw the table—covered with what had to be over two dozen gourmet dishes—he couldn't help but feel impressed. Every detail was spotless, from the fine silverware to the polished wine glasses.

Only problem? Rorschach had no idea what most of the food even was. Fancy Western cuisine had never been his thing, and the complex table setting looked more like a puzzle than a meal.

He sat down, unsure of where to start.

"Rorschach, dig in—try whatever you like," Howard said, motioning to the table with a smile.

All right then.

Screw the formalities.

Rorschach grabbed whatever cutlery seemed right and went for it, ignoring all the etiquette stuff. He chatted with Howard between bites, gradually relaxing into the atmosphere.

Howard, for his part, didn't seem to care about manners either. He noticed Rorschach's lack of familiarity with fine dining but didn't judge him for it. The guy had seen too much to sweat the small stuff—and besides, Rorschach clearly wasn't just some average guest.

The mood at the table stayed easy and friendly.

After a while, Howard leaned back, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and casually asked, "So, Rorschach—if you don't mind me asking—how exactly did you end up with your powers?"

It was the same question Peggy had asked him. Clearly, she wasn't the only one curious.

"Agent Carter brought that up too," Rorschach replied, shrugging. "Told her the same thing I'll tell you—I was born this way."

Howard gave a short laugh. "Fair enough. If you'd rather not talk about it, I understand. That's your business."

Rorschach didn't offer any further explanation. He was telling the truth—whether anyone believed it or not didn't really concern him.

Howard didn't push. The conversation shifted to other topics, and it turned out they had a lot more in common than expected. Stark's intelligence was undeniable, but Rorschach held his own, offering unique insights that made even the genius inventor raise an eyebrow a few times.

By the end of the meal, Howard was genuinely impressed.

"You know, Rorschach," he said with a grin, "you've got a sharp mind. Wouldn't have guessed it just looking at you."

The dinner ended on a high note. Afterward, they relaxed for a while in the lounge, then Howard led Rorschach back to the garage.

"As promised," Howard said, tossing him the keys. "You do have a license, right?"

"Don't worry," Rorschach said with a half-smile. "I'm an old hand."

He slid into the driver's seat, started the engine, and pulled smoothly out of the garage. The Cadillac purred to life beneath him, responsive and fast. He'd driven plenty of cars in his previous life, and it hadn't taken long to get used to it again.

The big red convertible tore down the road, drawing stares as it passed—sleek, loud, and impossible to miss. A car like this, plus a mysterious guy behind the wheel? Yeah, it turned heads.

If Rorschach had been in the mood, he could've picked up a dozen phone numbers by now.

But tonight, his focus was all on the car.

He gunned it through several blocks, checking every sound, every vibration. Something about this vehicle had caught his attention earlier—he was convinced there was more to it.

But no matter how closely he observed, it seemed normal.

Completely, frustratingly normal.

Could it be hiding something inside, like in Fast Five? He parked, popped the hood, scanned every inch. Still nothing.

Even when he checked his internal system—no reaction. No signal. No clue.

That stung a bit.

He wasn't about to just return the car empty-handed. Not after all this.

Maybe he needed more time with it. Maybe he had to own it outright. He started running numbers in his head.

Howard clearly loved this car, so just asking might be awkward. But if Rorschach wanted to tear it apart and figure it out, he'd have to find a way to buy it.

Problem was, he didn't have the cash.

Not yet.

But with his skills? Getting money wouldn't be hard.

Yeah. He'd figure it out.

One way or another, that car was staying with him.

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