Tony Stark sat in the back of his car, sunglasses on, expression unusually blank as he stared through the tinted window.
Mercer's Hearth was closed.
Lights off. Door locked. No warm glow, no smell of bread drifting into the street. Just a small sign hanging crookedly on the door.
Closed.
Tony frowned.
"That's not right," he muttered.
He checked the date on his phone. Then checked it again, as if the screen might have lied to him the first time.
"It's not the weekend," he said flatly.
"That's two days from now."
The car hadn't even fully stopped when two SHIELD operatives stepped into view.
They moved quickly but calmly, the way professionals did when approaching someone who could level a city block if irritated.
Tony noticed them immediately.
He didn't bother with pleasantries.
"Why is the shop closed?" he asked flatly.
The agent in charge answered immediately.
"Medical emergency. One of the owner's employees. His father needed immediate surgery."
Tony's posture stiffened. "And the hospital delayed it?"
It wasn't actually a question, but a confirmation.
"Yes," the agent admitted.
Tony's jaw clenched.
"Figures."
Tony's jaw tightened.
"And?"
The agent continued, explaining the situation as it had unfolded—how the family initially couldn't afford the operation, how the hospital delayed, how the situation escalated.
By the time the words "doctors threatened not to proceed" were spoken, Tony's expression had turned cold.
"That's bullshit," Tony snapped.
"You don't hold a man's life hostage over money."
The anger was real this time—genuine and unmistakable.
But then the agent added quietly, "The owner and the rest of the employees went to the hospital together. They gathered what money they could," the agent continued.
"They paid enough to allow the operation to begin."
Tony slowly turned his head.
"…They paid?"
"They tried to," the agent corrected.
"Enough for the operation to proceed. They didn't argue. They didn't negotiate. They just wanted the surgery done."
Tony was silent.
"They stayed through the operation," the agent went on.
"They only raised complaints after the patient was stable. About the delay. About the threat to refuse care."
"And?" Tony asked quietly.
"And it didn't matter," the agent said.
"Doctors claimed policy. Administration claimed procedure. Even the nurses couldn't help."
That did it.
Tony's expression darkened.
He went still.
Not calm.
Still
.
"…So let me get this straight," he said quietly.
"They left a man to die until money showed up. Took the cash. Only then did they saved him. And then told the people who paid to shut up because of policy."
"Yes, sir."
Tony exhaled slowly through his nose.
"That," he said, "is unacceptable."
.
.
.
Hospital – Earlier That Night
The first sign something was wrong was the sound.
A distant boom—controlled, deliberate.
Then the windows rattled.
By the time hospital security rushed outside, Iron Man was already there, standing in the courtyard lights like a judgment that had arrived early.
"No evacuations," Tony's voice echoed from the suit.
"Relax. I'm not mad at you."
He turned toward the entrance.
"But someone here made a decision I'd like explained."
Administrators scrambled.
Doctors froze.
Policy suddenly felt very small.
Tony didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
"I was informed," he said, "that emergency surgery was delayed until payment was secured."
Silence.
"And that after the patient was stabilized, the people who paid were blocked from filing complaints."
Still silence.
Tony tilted his helmet slightly. "Interesting policy. Does it also cover extortion, or is that just a bonus feature?"
Things changed fast after that.
Very fast.
The bill was reviewed.
Then further charges were voided.
Doctors were reassigned—better ones.
Nurses were told to prioritize the patient.
Monitoring increased.
Follow-ups scheduled.
The family was informed that there would be no fruther charges.
Not now.
Not later.
And the patient would not be discharged until he was fully recovered.
Noah watched it all in stunned disbelief.
He didn't see Iron Man long—just a flash of red and gold through the hallway glass—but he knew.
Only one person could do this.
And only one reason made sense.
Boss didn't argue… because he couldn't.
So someone else did it for him.
.
.
.
Back to Tony
Tony returned to his cilla, armor disengaging as he sat down heavily.
He looked once more at the closed bakery's direction from his home.
"…Good people," he muttered.
Mercer's Hearth remained dark—but Tony Stark?
It was closed because someone had done something right.
And that… was interesting.
And once again that day, Mercer's Hearth wasn't just a bakery to him anymore.
No, it was more than that the day he had his mind cleared.
And right now he was on the verge of creating something because of it.
In this universe, Tony won't be needing his father's words.
.
.
.
Triskelion – SHIELD Headquarters
The tone was very different inside Nick Fury's office.
The agent stood rigid, spine straight, eyes forward, enduring a verbal onslaught that had lasted far longer than any firefight.
"You don't wait," Fury snapped. "You don't assume. And you sure as hell don't decide what qualifies as important on your own."
"Yes, sir."
"If something even smells unusual, you report it. Immediately. I don't care if it's a bakery closing early or a cat stuck in a tree."
"Yes, sir."
Fury leaned back at last, rubbing his temple.
"Get out of my office."
The agent didn't hesitate.
The door closed behind him, and only then did Phil Coulson and Maria Hill step inside. Both had waited patiently, wisely choosing not to interrupt what could only be described as Fury's… extended judgment session.
They didn't comment on what they'd overheard.
"Director," Coulson said instead, calm as ever.
"We've received confirmation. General Ross is making a move."
Fury's eye narrowed.
"…Of course he is."
The weight in the room shifted instantly.
Whatever peace had existed around Mercer's Hearth, however brief, was clearly coming to an end.
.
.
.
Elias woke up to his phone buzzing beside him.
He squinted at the screen, still half-buried in sleep.
Noah.
"Boss—thank you. Really. I don't even know how to say this properly, but… thank you."
The call ended before Elias could respond.
He stared at the dark screen, confusion slowly replacing the haze in his head.
Didn't he already thank me earlier today?
Elias frowned, but shook it off.
If Noah wanted to explain, he would later.
The shop was closed for the day.
For the first time in a long while, Elias had nothing scheduled.
No ovens to check, no dough to proof, no customers lining up outside the door.
He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Now that I think about it…
He hadn't really done anything normal since being reincarnated into this world.
And what was considered normal for someone reborn into another universe?
Checking the timeline.
Of course.
He even briefly entertained the idea of assigning his first servant to a facehugger—sending it straight into SHIELD's newly established base just to be eliminated.
Two birds.
One stone.
Efficient.
He dismissed the thought for now.
First things first.
How could anyone plan the fate of worlds while smelling like sleep and yesterday's stress?
Elias got up and went through his morning routine.
Shower. Fresh clothes. Coffee—actually coffee this time.
Only once the fog lifted did his thoughts settle into something.
He carried his laptop outside and sat on the couch he liked best, sunlight filtering through the window with the curtain off.
The world, at least on the surface, was calm.
He typed in searches.
New Mexico.
Brazil.
More specifically—
Puente Antiguo.
Rio de Janeiro.
New Mexico showed nothing unusual.
No reports of strange storms. No unidentified objects. No hammer crashing down from the sky.
Good.
Brazil, however…
An article caught his attention.
An elderly man hospitalized after consuming a very potent energy drink produced by Pingo Doce Bottling Plant. Reports described abnormal physiological readings. Strength spikes. Elevated metabolism. Cellular stress.
Elias leaned back slowly.
"…It's started."
There was nothing he could do about it.
He couldn't interfere. Couldn't show up. Couldn't push the timeline without consequences.
Still, a thought crept in.
A wrong one.
Dangerous.
Inhumane.
He closed the laptop.
And yet the idea stayed.
It gnawed at him during meals.
Followed him into sleep.
Lingered in the silence between breaths.
Four days passed like that.
Four days of hesitation.
Then Sunday came.
Elias opened the news again.
Pingo Doce Bottling Plant Destroyed Overnight. Authorities investigating explosion.
Elias stared at the screen for a long time.
Then he quietly closed the laptop.
.
.
.
Elias sat alone at his living room's floor as dusk settled outside.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
He opened the system interface—not out of hunger for power, but because pretending it wasn't there no longer worked.
The inventory window hovered before him.
[Slot 1: Facehugger Egg ×3]
He stared at it longer than he wanted to admit.
"…Just one," he muttered.
A single egg shimmered as he selected it.
The others dimmed.
A new prompt unfolded, sterile and emotionless.
[FIRST SERVANT ASSIGNMENT DETECTED
- You may designate one entity as your servant.
- Servants act independently but are bound by absolute command compliance.
WARNING:
Servants are extensions of your will. Their actions will reflect upon you. ]
Elias exhaled slowly.
"I know."
The egg reacted.
It didn't crack violently. Instead, it unfolded with disturbing elegance—petals of flesh peeling back as the facehugger inside twitched, sensing a directive before one was spoken.
The creature froze
.
Not aggressive.
Not panicked.
Waiting.
Another screen appeared.
[SERVANT PERK SELECTION
Choose one initial adaptation to bestow upon your first servant.
- Accelerated Healing Factor
- Flight (Aerial Mobility)
- Short-Range Teleportation
- Flame Emission (Oral Projection)
*Additional options locked ]
Elias didn't hesitate long.
Healing meant prolonged survival.
Teleportation meant unpredictability.
Fire meant collateral damage.
He closed his eyes briefly.
"Flight," he said.
The system acknowledged instantly.
[PERK CONFIRMED: FLIGHT
- Musculature restructured.
- Membrane growth initiated.
- Servant capability enhanced. ]
The facehugger convulsed.
Thin, translucent membranes unfurled along its limbs, veined like insect wings yet reinforced with something denser, darker.
It lifted—awkwardly at first—hovering a few inches above the table.
Elias watched in silence.
This wasn't fascination.
It was resolve.
A final interface slid into view.
[ISSUE COMMAND
- Define target parameters.]
Elias's fingers tightened slightly.
"Listen carefully," he said, voice low.
The creature oriented toward him immediately.
"There is a professional at Culver University. I want you to wait at his laboratory for your target."
The system interface shifted as if following Elias' thought as the target profile was showed with clarity.
[TARGET CONFIRMED
Name: Name: Emil Blonsky
Affiliation: U.S. Military / Gamma Experiment Subject
Field: Combat and enhancement research
Known associate: General Thaddeus Ross ]
The facehugger hovered silently in front of him, wings folded close, awaiting revision.
Elias spoke carefully, each word deliberate.
"You will not act immediately."
The creature's posture adjusted—listening.
"You will observe Dr. Sterns from a distance. You will not approach him. You will not attach to him. You will not harm anyone."
A pause.
"Unless."
The system registered heightened priority.
Elias swallowed.
"Unless he and the target are alone in the room."
The facehugger stilled completely.
"Before he can receive more of Bruce Banner's blood," Elias continued.
His jaw tightened.
"Only then will you act."
Another pause—longer this time.
"You will proceed only before the mutation begins. Not after."
" However, you will rupture only after he turns into an abomination. Not before. Not during but after. Notice the difference?"
The system processed the layered conditions.
[CONDITIONAL DIRECTIVE REGISTERED
Primary objective: OBSERVATION ONLY
Target: Emil Blonsky
Secondary objective: Attachment to Target
Activation trigger:
Condition 1: Alone with Dr. Sterns in a controlled environment
Condition 2: Gamma-contaminated blood not yet injected
When conditions are met:
Servant authorized to attach and remain in Blonsky's chest until transformation completes.]
The facehugger emitted a faint clicking sound—not hunger, not aggression.
Acknowledgment.
Elias exhaled slowly.
"This isn't judgment," he said quietly, more to himself than the creature.
"This is… containment."
He watched as the servant lifted into the air, wings unfurling soundlessly.
"One more thing," Elias added.
The creature halted midair.
"If SHIELD or anyone else intervenes before that moment—you retreat."
Absolute stillness.
Then—
[Compliance Confirmed]
The facehugger vanished through the open window, disappearing into the night sky, heading toward Culver University like a silent omen.
Elias remained seated long after it was gone.
"If fate's already written that page," he muttered, eyes shadowed,
"…then I'll just make sure it doesn't spill past the margins."
End of Chapter 11