A terrifying propaganda film was playing on TV.
The man called the Mandarin was admitting to the bomb attacks he carried out on America in a well-filmed propaganda video.
"I think he's professionally trained," John said, appreciating the terrifying declaration and nodding in approval. "Look at the filming technique, how professional."
Tony fell into thought upon hearing this.
Was that the focus?
Shouldn't the focus be on the terrorist causing destruction everywhere?
"For the past week, every day I close my eyes and wake up in less than an hour."
The two of them sat in Tony's underground lab, John eating strawberries.
Perhaps it was because he was facing John, who could barely be considered a friend.
Or perhaps because John had entered the boundless Universe with him, making him think John could help him.
Tony buried his face in his hands and rubbed hard. "Some nightmares are bothering me."
"I don't know, maybe at some point, a rift will open in the sky, and aliens will come killing," Tony said, moving his hands from his face, a hint of weariness hidden in his eyes.
"Do you have anxiety?" John asked, taking a bite of a strawberry.
Hmm, Jarvis is so convenient, he can even wash fruit.
He said casually, "You just blew up an alien nest and killed hundreds of thousands of aliens."
"If anyone should be afraid, it's them. You are a cold-blooded and ruthless executioner, ending the Chitauri's world-ending disaster. You can become the most cruel demon in Chitauri history, one who makes children stop crying."
Tony was speechless. Was he being praised? It was hard to tell.
I have to say, John's method of praise often made Tony feel like a heinous person.
While having a heart-to-heart in the underground lab, John also took the opportunity to tour Tony's many Iron Man suits, which seemed to multiply like rabbits.
It had taken so long just to iterate up to Mark 6, but now, after just a month, Mark 13 was already out.
What was this?
Was this the upgrade buff that came with the Super Hero era?
"Coffee, Mr. Wick."
A robotic arm extended, steadily bringing a cup of coffee.
"Thank you, Jarvis."
"My pleasure, Mr. Wick."
John took the coffee and took a sip. It was good to have such a thoughtful butler.
Although Moss was also very smart, he was still a bit lacking compared to Jarvis.
However, John still had a pirated, limited Mind Stone in his hand; perhaps he could upgrade Moss with it.
"Look on the bright side, Stark," John said, raising an eyebrow. "Instead of worrying about alien invasion, why don't you think about whether Ivan's new suit will kill you."
John pursed his lips and said, "He's already working on the third generation of Fighter armor."
Tony's body trembled upon hearing this.
Speaking of which, although Ivan's iteration speed wasn't that fast, he couldn't stop that guy from turning himself into a mobile arsenal.
With the Air Force weapon boxes equipped, one person could chase down and kill Chitauri squads.
The heavy firepower model was even more ferocious than War Machine.
Compared to the Chitauri, Ivan, this unstable factor, was more concerning.
After John said it, Tony's face darkened.
Hmm, even more anxious now.
John just wanted to give Tony an upgrade in power, not have him produce those 'inferior products'.
He glanced at the few suits Tony had made before. They seemed like version upgrades, but their functions hadn't actually improved.
Instead, they had become specialized models created to handle various situations, like weapon boxes.
The suits strengthened certain attributes by weakening others, resulting in no significant increase in overall strength. They could only perform special operations for specific scenarios.
If you brought Thor over, what should be a one-hammer matter would still be resolved with one hammer; there wouldn't be much difference.
No matter how many updates there were, it was just a waste of more money.
The coffee was running low, and the robotic hand was about to go get the coffee pot.
John raised his hand and beckoned, and the coffee pot flew over to automatically refill his cup.
"What about you, John?" Tony raised his eyes and looked at John. "What are your thoughts?"
"Don't think I don't know. Steel Soldiers, weapon boxes... you seem to have predicted this disaster like a Prophet."
"You want to put armor on this world?"
No, that's your idea.
John said in surprise, "Your idea is very novel."
Tony, however, looked deeply at John. "Your Steel Soldiers protected New York."
"Those are the military's Steel Soldiers," John said, shaking his head. "The Department of Defense paid for them; I just sold the goods. I'm not a goblin who thinks the creator is the owner."
Goblins are humanoid creatures in the Magic World. They possess the same intelligence as humans and excellent craftsmanship, but unfortunately, they are very greedy.
They believe that the creator of an item is the true owner, while the buyer only has the right to use it.
After crafting the Sword of Gryffindor for the Hogwarts founder, they actually claimed that Gryffindor had stolen the goblin's treasure.
They even dared to go and demand it back, but the outcome wasn't good. They were killed by Gryffindor and ran back dejectedly. While Gryffindor was alive, they only dared to grumble about it in secret.
It was also because of this nature that, as the creators of Wizard currency, they always felt that the money belonged to them.
They were always treated with cold stares when one withdrew money at Gringotts.
Fortunately, this habit changed later because John turned Gringotts into a mint. From then on, goblins could only make coins, becoming complete laborers.
John was even moved by his own thoughtful action, which ensured goblins would no longer feel pained by others withdrawing money.
Tony didn't know what goblins were like, but he could understand John's meaning.
Using government money to build his own defense measures.
This was completely different from Tony's idea of spending his own money to improve defense.
There was a subtle difference in essence, but the outcome was more or less the same.
"If you're feeling anxious, you might as well go for a morning run," John said casually. "I know two kids; I'll have them take you."
Kids?
Take me?
A hint of anger flared in Tony's heart. Who was he looking down on?
John waved goodbye.
***
Early the next morning, Tony bent over, hands on his knees, looking at the Asian teenager who had just run past him for the second time.
"On your left."
The nightmarish words echoed in his ears, making Tony grit his teeth and say, "This kid."
He sprinted, chasing that back, and then watched it get further and further away.
His expression gradually changed from initial contempt to later doubt, indignation, and finally despair and resignation.
This morning run, Shang-Chi was absolutely delighted.
He finally understood why John loved saying that phrase so much.
After finishing his morning run, Shang-Chi slowly finished stretching, while Tony hadn't even completed the five laps he had set.
The great Tony Stark was as tired as a dog.
A lifetime of indulgence was catching up to him.
Actually, his physique wasn't bad. Among ordinary people, he could instantly defeat ninety-nine percent of them. Unfortunately, he met Shang-Chi, who didn't play by the rules.
This kid wasn't old, but he could take down five or six Chitauri soldiers with his bare hands.
He was practically a young Captain America. If it weren't for the lack of combat experience, John would even dare to let him go out with a shield and have a showdown with Steve.
"Running... so fast... wait... let me catch... my breath."
Tony collapsed, completely exhausted. Who told him to show off and sprint after Shang-Chi? If he had run at a steady pace, he would have had no problem finishing those five laps.
Lying beside him was Peter, who had fainted again.
Lying together, they looked exactly like father and son.
It would have been even better if Tony hadn't thrown up on the lawn afterward.
John had a look of disgust and told Shang-Chi to take Peter to study and not hang around with this old man.
"I was wrong," John said thoughtfully beside Tony. "You can just run with Peter from now on."
That statement was no less powerful than the famous phrase "If you can't drink, go to the kids' table," making Tony's competitive heart refuse to yield.
He went home and started making a physical training plan.
When Pepper returned home, she would often see the old man, already over forty, meticulously planning his nutrition and improving his physical fitness.
This made Pepper's eyes light up.
Who doesn't want their husband to be in good shape and have strong stamina?
Poor Tony. All the nutrients he painstakingly replenished were put to good use by a very appreciative Pepper.
Be considerate of the old man.
***********
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