Chapter 37 - The Raven

After leaving Harlem, Glenn flagged down a taxi for a ride back.

While the driver was busy singing Peruvian song played by the car's radio, Glenn was busy claiming the system rewards at the backseat.

He was very excited because this time, the reward was anything but substantial.

[Quest Issued]

Help defeat or kill the Abomination. Every lives saved +500 points.

Reward: Kaido's Physique (Adolescent)

Status: Completed

Claim Reward?

Claim!

+955,500 points received

He haven't had a time to celebrate with the massive amount of points he earned when suddenly, every muscle fiber of his body began to squirm and expand like a balloon bringing utter pain he couldn't describe.

He gritted his teeth to endure the torture as he started to grow tall.

Good thing the driver was so engrossed in his singing, he didn't notice the car was somewhat tilting to the right because of Glenn's weight.

Fortunately, with the help of Life Return, Glenn quickly gained control over his body, bringing it back down to his original body size.

'Wew! That hurt a lot.'

Glenn sigh in relief giving a glance to the unsuspecting taxi driver.

Then he turned his attention towards the floating screen in front of him.

He was about to browse the Store when it suddenly flickered like a static like an old school television trying to scan for a channel.

'What the hell?'

But then, it quickly returned to normal with the screen a little bit dim than the previous one.

Glenn at this time was running his brain non-stop of what would be the cause of the strange flicker of system. As far as he knew, he haven't encountered anything like it when he read those novels from his past life.

'I hope I'm just overthinking this.'

He closed the system and decided that he would just browse the system store once he was settled down for the night.

As he gaze over the window, he remembered Domino from his last mission here in New York. He promised her that they would partner up in the future for mission and it was now the right time to invite her formally to the team he was forming.

He fished out his phone, not the transponder, as he was still outside and dialed a set of numbers.

Ring

Ring

"Hello, who's this?"

"It's me, Neena. You mind joining me for a late night drink?"

"Handyman?"

"The one and only."

"Sure, meet me at the.."

————

Months had passed since the night Harlem shook.

Since then, the world had tried to move on. The battle between Hulk and Abomination had left an indelible mark—both in the physical scars that dotted Harlem's streets and in the political reverberations that echoed through the military and intelligence communities. Yet, for Glenn Peterson—the enigmatic Handyman—it was just another contract fulfilled.

Now, he was enjoying the rewards.

The sky over Manhattan was a crisp blue, the occasional puff of cloud casting lazy shadows over the bustling city. But high above, at the peak of the Frost Enterprises building, a sight stirred whispers among corporate elites.

Parked boldly atop the rooftop helipad was a sleek machine.

It looked vaguely like a V-22 Osprey, with its long wings and twin-engine silhouette. But it didn't hum with the familiar thrum of rotary blades. Instead, it purred with the low, confident growl of a combustion turbine—more jet than helicopter. It was fast with sleek and elegant design chasis though outrageously expensive.

Inside the upper floors of Frost Enterprises, Emma Frost sat at her desk, sculpted in poise and power. Her fingers tapped calmly against a holoscreen monitor, white blazer crisp against the elegant lines of her designer office.

And then there was Glenn.

Lounging lazily across a custom velvet chaise in the corner of her office, he held a portable game console in both hands, legs crossed, and eyes flicking between the screen and a bag of sour gummies beside him.

He was dressed like he always was—a black button-up shirt tucked beneath his open charcoal coat, leather gloves folded neatly on the armrest beside him. He wore his usual red tie, tailored pants and plolished boots. His usual air of irreverent class.

Emma didn't say a word. She had long since stopped being surprised by his eccentricities.

Glenn let out a frustrated groan, flicking through menus on the screen.

"How is it," he muttered, "that we're in a world with AI body armor, literal gods dropping from space, and multi-billion-dollar empires—and yet mobile phones are still boring slabs of plastic and iron incapable of running a decent triple-A game?"

Emma smiled faintly without looking up.

"Maybe because the rest of us are too busy saving the world from people like you."

Glenn scoffed.

"Touché," he said. "But still, I'm telling you, Em. Frost Enterprises should enter the phone game. Touchscreen interface, high refresh rate, zero-lag memory core. And here's the kicker—"

He sat up.

"—partner with SpaceX. Satellite internet with worldwide coverage. No more buffering cat videos, ever."

Emma finally glanced up, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow. "You're suggesting I invest millions into building a glorified meme machine?"

"No," Glenn said, pointing a sour gummy at her like a laser pointer. "I'm suggesting you create the first global smart network. FrostLink. Powered by Stark's clean energy tech I acquired back then, backed by your psychometric OS, supported by satellite-fed comms, and integrated with AR interface overlays. Think of the branding."

Emma folded her arms. "You sound like a pitch deck in human form."

"I sound like money," Glenn replied.

She rolled her eyes but didn't dismiss the idea.

They continued this way for minutes—trading barbs and half-serious visions of the future—until a familiar tone of transponder sounded.

Peri peri~ peri peri~

He picked up the call and the snail grew an iconic beard with a smug hanging in its mouth.

Glenn narrowed his eyes. "Huh? Speak of the devil, and the genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist shall call."

Tony's voice came in sharp and snarky, "Tell me you're not still in New York."

Glenn blinked, "Define still."

"I've got this thing next week. " Tony said. "In Monaco. It's big race with big show and big party. I want you there."

Glenn smirked. "Flattered. You inviting me for protection or to show off?"

"Why not both?" Tony quipped. "Kidding! I I'm still in debt, remember? I just want to show off, specially among friends. Besides, I need someone with a proper tie to balance out my open shirt. When are you going to be back?"

Glenn leaned back. "Today! And since you invited me, I'll be there next week just to watch someone attempt another show by trying to take your life, hahaha."

The snail rolled his eyes and said, "I'm used to it. You know they fail everytime."

"You never know, the next one might have a lucky shot."

"Hey are you betting on it?"

"With all my fortune."

"Now I'm tempted to take my own life just to see you fail."

Glenn chuckled and said, "I'm counting on it, Tony. By the way, you got a helipad?"

Tony paused. "I mean, yeah. But—wait, what? Are you flying in now?"

"Yep," Glenn said, already standing. "See you in a bit."

Click.

The call ended.

Emma stared at him, "You're leaving?"

"Yeah, everything has been sorted out here."

"Of course you are," she said, watching as he donned his gloves.

Glenn walked to the window, looking down to watch the busy street.

"You did say this company was about vision, right? Take my suggestions seriously. It will earn us a lot of profit. Maybe access to a much wider surveillance."

Emma sighed. "Okay, I'll see to it. Try not to blow anything up this time."

"No promises."

"I'll see you out."

Emma stood up joining Glenn as they reached for the elevator, flashing a wink before stepping inside.

It was a brief moment before the elevator door open once again on the roof top.

Stepping outside, Glenn and Emma started in awe the full view of the jet Glenn managed to snug out of the military.

"I still can't believe you manage to get this from the military."

"Pretty good, right?"

Emma nodded and asked, "When will you be back?"

Glenn pondered for a moment and said, "Call me once the renovation was finished. We might stay in New York for good the next time I come back. By then I'll introduce you to the rest of the members. Hm...How long do you think it'll take?"

"Two months, maybe three. If we put all our focus for the renovation, a month is also possible. It would just be more costly."

"We've got plenty of money anyway. Put it on number one priority so you won't miss me too much."

Emma scoffed but she blushed a little.

"Well, interested in naming this bad ass bird we got?"

"Hmm.. I'm quite bad at naming."

"How about Chicken?"

Emma gave him a disgusting look.

"Of course, I'm kidding! Come on, chickens don't fly..... right?"

"The don't."

"Ostrich?"

"Glenn!"

"Tsk, okay Britney Spears with no sense of humor. Hmmm.. How bout penguin—aww."

Emma smacked his head though it didn't hurt him, he just pretended to.

"Just call it Raven! For godsake! I swear if I hear any more bullshit from you, I will blast that toy of yours right now." Emma burst out looking quite annoyed.

Glenn pouted like a child and muttered, "Old hag with no funny bone. That must be reason why you don't have a boyfriend yet."

"What did you say?"

Glenn's face instantly became dignified.

"Cough! Raven it is! What a great suggestion. I didn't know you have a talent with naming, Emma. I'll increase your raise!"

"I'm the owner of the company."

"Small details! Right, I should get going. Remember to call if there's something you can't handle."

"You are such an unreliable boss! Do you even know how to fly that thing?"

"Of course! It comes with a tutorial. Besides, I learn fast. How do you think I manage to put it here?"

"Hmmph, show off."

"You wanna come with me?"

Emma hesitated for a moment but shook her head eventually.

"Maybe next time. I got work to do and a mansion to renovate."

"Okay, I'll be sure to take you out with this thing for a spin once I come back from the west coast. I better get going then. Take care, Emma."

Glenn went inside the aircraft and a few minutes later, the combustion-engine jet roared to life.

—————

Meanwhile

The sun hung high along the Malibu coast, casting molten streaks of golden rays across the glass walls of the Stark estate. The Pacific Ocean shimmered like a sheet of blue brilliance, reflecting the mansion's vast, angular structure as if it, too, was trying to keep up appearances.

Inside, the tone was deceptively casual.

Tony Stark reclined lazily on one of the sleek barstools beside the open kitchen, wearing a fitted Black Sabbath t-shirt and a pair of black joggers. One hand fiddled with a half-empty glass of green herbal smoothie, the other held his sleek smartphone, pressed against his ear. The call was still connected, barely a second after Glenn had hung up with his signature blend of sarcasm and mystery.

"Yeah... helipad," Tony muttered to himself. "Because of course he has a helipad."

A grin tugged at his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. The moment the call dropped and the lightness evaporated, his entire face shifted—like a mask slowly cracking at the seams.

He didn't move for a long moment. The silence grew heavier in the room, interrupted only by the gentle whirr of ocean breeze slipping through partially opened glass doors and the distant echo of waves lapping at the cliffside.

The herbal shake sloshed slightly as he set it down on the polished countertop. His free hand instinctively slid beneath the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing the arc reactor embedded in his chest.

A faint, pale glow seeped between his fingertips.

"JARVIS," he said, voice quieter now, the edge of bravado gone.

"Yes, sir?" came the ever-calm reply from the estate's AI system, voice filtering through speakers hidden throughout the room.

"Run diagnostics again."

"Right away, sir."

A soft chime echoed.

"Palladium levels in the bloodstream have risen twelve percent since the last scan, sir. Toxicity is currently at thirty-four percent. Continued usage of the Mark IV suit is accelerating blood contamination."

Tony nodded faintly, already knowing the answer, but it still hit like a punch to the gut.

"Any new viable element?"

"I'm afraid not. All known materials remain incompatible. Synthetic palladium alternatives are still insufficiently stable."

Tony sighed, then took another sip from the shake, face contorting slightly at the taste. It was bitter. Earthy. He hated it. He hated everything about it—the false hope of health in a drink.

He set the glass aside and stood, walking barefoot across the smooth floors to the window overlooking the sea.

"You know, JARVIS... I thought I had more time."

"You've successfully extended your life far beyond initial projections, sir. But if you continue—"

"I know," Tony cut in, jaw tightening. "I know."

Outside, a flock of gulls cut across the horizon, their wings dark slashes against the sun.

He reached for the nearest console, pulling up holographic screens. The glowing blue UI illuminated his face, drawing harsh shadows under his eyes. The search terms auto-filled: 'arc reactor toxicity', 'palladium alternatives', 'core redesigns', 'element synthesis'—all recent queries, all hitting dead ends.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what to type next.

He turned away from the screen.

He felt... tired.

For someone whose mind never stopped, the stillness that weighed on him now felt foreign and heavy.

He moved toward the small worktable at the corner of the lounge—makeshift, improvised, but lined with vials, notes, and schematics. He opened a drawer, revealing a handful of used blood testing chips—each one marked with red ink, labeled with dates and toxicity percentages.

He picked up the most recent one.

Thirty-four percent.

A month ago it was twelve.

His grip tightened.

"JARVIS, archive today's data, tag it under 'Fail-Safe' protocol."

"Understood, sir. Would you like to begin prepping contingency messages?"

Tony flinched.

He didn't answer immediately but he answered it a second later, "No. Not yet. Just keep everything logged."

He looked toward one of the nearby display cases, where the Iron Man suits stood like silent sentinels. Mark I, Mark II, Mark III, and the current iteration—Mark IV—resting in a maintenance rig at the far wall.

But inside him, everything was corroding.

And no one knew.

Not Pepper, not even Rhodey.

And certainly not Glenn, whose casual banter was a million miles away from this grim reality.

He moved to the fridge and pulled out another herbal bottle, cracked it open, and forced himself to drink it in three gulps.

"I need a new heart, JARVIS."

"Sir?"

"I'm going to find one."

"Understood."

He turned back to the window and watched the ocean line.

He inhaled sharply, then walked toward the hall, tossing the empty bottle into the trash. The weight of the arc reactor pulled at him—not physically, but as a reminder.

Every beat of his heart was another drop of poison.

He had a few months..maybe.

The Monaco event was just a distraction.

But maybe it would buy him some time to fix the one thing that mattered most.

Himself.