Chapter 37: Shadows of Legacy

Fury looked slightly surprised. "You know Anton Vanko too?"

Aetheris chuckled but didn't reply. What's next? Should I tell you I know the Buddha's Palm too?

Fury didn't press the point. He continued, "Anton Vanko was like the other side of the coin. He saw everything as a golden opportunity to get rich. When your father found out, he had him deported. Once he returned to Moscow, the Soviets realized he had nothing to offer and exiled him to Siberia. He's been stuck there ever since."

Aetheris was slightly moved. What kind of shift would a man's psyche go through after all that? A once-promising scientist might very well become a man who wants to burn the world down.

"Not exactly an ideal environment for a kid to grow up in," Fury added, sipping his coffee. "His son, Ivan Vanko, should be around your age, but the difference between your lives couldn't be more drastic."

Aetheris didn't know how to respond. Just picturing the guy with the twin electric whips gave him a headache.

The sins of the father, passed down to the son…

Two complete strangers, originally with no connection at all, now locked in a cycle of vengeance seeded by the grudges of a previous generation.

"I'll try not to kill him," Aetheris muttered.

"What was that?" Fury asked.

"Nothing. Just noting that you seem to know more about my deadbeat dad than I do," Aetheris said, leaning back casually.

"You're not wrong. He was one of the founding members of S.H.I.E.L.D.," Fury said, dropping another bombshell as he studied Aetheris' reaction.

But Aetheris didn't even flinch.

Really? You think something like S.H.I.E.L.D. is enough to shock me?

Do you think you're part of the Department of Surprise?

"Your tech is completely outdated. Once I finish developing the new element, all these issues will be resolved," Aetheris sneered, curling his lip. "You'd do better to hand over the box my father left behind. That's what actually matters."

Fury stared at him for a long moment before replying, "If you're that confident, I won't say anything more. Come with me. You'll get the box there."

"One more thing. Can you tell me where those two bastards, Norman Osborn and Victor, disappeared to?" Aetheris asked, setting his mug down with a cold look.

"Our intel says a private jet, unregistered, took off last night and headed south from the United States," Fury answered.

Geographically, that puts it in North America. It borders the U.S. to the north, Guatemala and Belize to the southeast, flanked by the Pacific Ocean to the west and the Gulf of Mexico and Caribbean Sea to the east.

Yes—Mexico. Notorious for pirates and lawlessness.

Its economy ranks thirteenth globally, which is respectable, but that's not what it's famous for. Its real claim to infamy lies in the chaos of its drug regulation and rampant crime.

In truth, Mexico is one of the most dangerous places on Earth. Finding someone there is like searching for a needle in a haystack.

"Finding those two scumbags anytime soon is basically impossible," Fury said with a grin.

Seeing Aetheris take even a small hit brought him some satisfaction.

"Alright, Natasha, give him the box," Fury said, clearly bored now that he hadn't gotten the reaction he was hoping for.

"I've got a reunion to attend at 2:30 this afternoon. I'm heading out."

"Heh, we'll see," Aetheris muttered as he took the box and walked off without another word.

Now is not the right time to form the Avengers. Not one of them could be called normal. There's the righteously uptight Captain America, the rebellious Thor, Bruce Banner who can barely keep himself in check, Hawkeye who's basically invisible, Black Widow who ages slower and lives longer than normal, and of course—the playboy billionaire, the living embodiment of charm, intelligence, morality, and passion—Tony. Aetheris. Mr. Big Shit.

See? Not one of them is normal.

Unless they're faced with some overwhelming, world-ending threat, trying to unite that crew is a fool's errand.

Maybe humanity's greatest strength is infighting.

For now, forget about forming a team. The priority is increasing his own power.

"Brother Ethan, here are the materials. See for yourself." Aetheris tossed the box over. He wasn't in the mood to examine anything his deadbeat father had left behind.

"Oh, got it. The Mark III portable armor is already finished. Want to try it out?" Ethan opened the box and pulled out several discs and a clipped newspaper.

"Seriously? Then get to it already!"

When it came to cutting-edge tech, Aetheris was like a kid on Christmas morning.

The development of armor had to continue. Didn't the final battle in Avengers: Endgame prove that Mr. Big Shit could go head-to-head with Thanos, even when he had the Infinity Gauntlet?

It only goes to show—whether it's powers or technology, when pushed to the extreme, either can become unstoppable.

"Peter, bring over that silver case."

"Peter?" Aetheris raised an eyebrow.

"He's the assistant you helped me recruit—Peter Parker. The kid has a solid grip on mechanical physics and molecular engineering, and his potential in energy research is impressive. With the right guidance, he could rival you or me," Ethan said proudly.

Having such a gifted protégé made Ethan genuinely happy.

"So much has happened lately, I totally forgot." Aetheris suddenly felt a twinge of guilt. He'd been too busy chasing girls and neglecting his little brother's affairs.

"Hey, Mr. Tony Big Shit!" Little Spider walked in, face glowing, full of energy.

He was now Dr. Ethan's assistant in Stark Industries' top lab. Several of his female colleagues had already started throwing flirtatious glances his way. For Peter Parker—who once only had eyes for Mary Jane—it was a bit overwhelming.

Not to mention his $10,000 monthly stipend. That took care of his financial stress and gave him the freedom to focus entirely on scientific research.

Fighting crime? Helping the weak? Let's be real.

"When the granaries are full, people understand propriety; when clothing and food are secure, they understand honor and shame."

(End of Chapter)

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