Chapter 26 Officially Joining S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury: You Old Scoundrel Are So Wicked!
In the corridor of the old apartment, only a dim, yellowish lamp was barely holding on to work.
That faint ray of light managed to cross the half-open door, barely illuminating the small entryway of the living room. In this not-so-spacious space, the atmosphere suddenly became so quiet that even the yowling of stray cats outside could be heard clearly.
Arthur stood there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his loungewear, facing the S.H.I.E.L.D. Director before him, who was draped in a black windbreaker and exuding the oppressive aura of someone in a position of authority.
After listening to Fury's recruitment pitch, which combined carrot and stick and even carried a hint of a threat, Arthurdid not show even a trace of panic like ordinary people would, nor did he quickly pledge loyalty by taking the step down offered by the other party. He just blinked casually.
The movement was very slight, yet it exuded an unspeakable sense of ease. Arthur didn't even pick up on the word "intention" that Fury had just thrown out, merely lifting his chin slightly toward Fury.
"You running over to knock on my door tonight is indeed quite efficient."
Arthur said in a flat tone, just like chatting with the convenience store owner downstairs.
"But I guess if you stay in this room for too long, you might delay knocking on the next door. Is your next target going to be that Stark who just stole the spotlight on television?"
As soon as these words came out, Nick Fury, who had previously kept his hands leisurely behind his back and considered himself in control of the overall situation, was suddenly stunned.
A rare trace of astonishment flashed across his habitually stern Black face, and his single sharp eye immediately locked onto Arthur's face, as if trying to find traces of a miniature earpiece or some kind of monitoring device.
Fury's first reaction was vigilance: How could S.H.I.E.L.D.'s high-level secret recruitment plan be instantly pointed out by a young man living in a run-down Brooklyn apartment?
Could there be another leak inside S.H.I.E.L.D.?
But as soon as this thought popped into his mind, Furyextinguished it himself.
He thought about the chips he had just thrown out from a different angle, combined with the current external situation, and suddenly "figured it all out."
A few seconds ago, it was he himself who personally revealed information such as "satellite monitoring" and "recent monitoring data" to the young man in front of him, in order to expose the high-speed grand actions the other party pulled off in the desert.
And just in the past few short days, after Tony Starkreturned from being kidnapped, he immediately announced with infuriating high profile at a press conference, "I am Iron Man."
That reckless demeanor of attracting the attention of the whole society was simply like having the characters "Come monitor me" engraved on his forehead.
Fury sighed inwardly. Even for an esper like Arthur, who lived in a cheap apartment, tried hard to hide himself, and acted exceptionally low-key, S.H.I.E.L.D. could spare no effort to use the most cutting-edge advanced military satellites to track and locate him all over the World.
Therefore, facing Tony Stark's high-profile demeanor—which was so extreme that he practically wanted to announce the color of his underwear to the World—if S.H.I.E.L.D. had no reaction at all, it would truly be blind.
"This kid..." Fury nodded silently, inwardly raising his evaluation of Arthur by several levels invisibly.
Children with some special abilities in society today often carry a kind of self-important stupidity. But the Arthur in front of him had a brain that turned really fast.
Just because of a "satellite monitoring" lead he casually exposed during the conversation, he was able to instantly piece together scattered external news information and accurately guess S.H.I.E.L.D.'s next core action target.
Not only was he smart, but he was also very calm, completely unfazed by this bureaucratic system.
Fury put away his previous probing, turned serious, and forcibly pulled the topic back on track.
"This belongs to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s internal itinerary planning, and I cannot report it to you in detail yet."
Fury spoke in official jargon with his signature raspy voice, but his attitude was obviously much more serious than before, "
However, you really didn't guess wrong. Therefore, let's return to the question just now.
Regarding this official invitation of mine, Mr. Arthur, what is your intention after all?"
Arthur leaned against the door frame, his gaze passing over Fury's shiny bald head, and casually glanced at the wall clock.
In his mind, he was actually rapidly calculating the current situation.
As a transmigrator who retained modern rationality and a God's-eye view, Arthur was crystal clear in his heart. What time node was this?
In 2008, "Iron Man" had just opened its curtain, and that so-called "Avengers" claiming to save the World hadn't even fully gathered the blueprints for drawing pie in the sky yet.
If he nodded and agreed now, he would be part of the absolute initial lineup and the older generation of veteran members.
And more importantly, given S.H.I.E.L.D.'s current talent reserves where the older generation is retiring and the new one hasn't taken over, how many usable combat strengths were there in total?
Besides Captain America Steve Rogers, who was still buried in ice and treated as a hundred-year-old frozen-age senior, the only one who could still run fieldwork and do dirty and exhausting work in the bureau was probably that Natasha whose codename was Black Widow.
At this impoverished juncture where people were being drafted everywhere, if S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted to recruit people, it had to show enough sincerity and hold its nose to accept some less-than-well-behaved conditions.
Thinking of this, Arthur cleared his throat and bluntly laid his bottom line on the table.
"Agreeing to you is fine. Joining S.H.I.E.L.D. at least counts as having a formal official background, and it's convenient when handling things occasionally."
As Arthur spoke, he straightened his body, his tone resolute, leaving no room for discussion.
"However, I have a condition, you listen clearly. I only want a nominal title here. If you really encounter some missions that you can't solve and must have me make a move, you can call me. But in the vast majority of daily time without missions, I must be an absolutely free person."
Arthur paused, staring straight into Fury's single eye, and added half seriously and half threateningly,
"I don't punch in, I don't write reports, and I don't accept 24-hour monitoring and check-ins. If Lord Director does not agree to this condition, then let's pretend tonight's chat never happened. The door is over there, and I won't keep you for tea. Please feel free."
After hearing these words, Fury stood in place and looked at Arthur quietly for a moment.
As an Agent leader who had struggled through various government departments and dark corners for decades, Fury had long anticipated that this negotiation would not go so smoothly.
Usually, those superpower users or genius figures he found, relying on having a unique skill, would always seize the opportunity to demand an exorbitant price when hearing they could join a behemoth like S.H.I.E.L.D.
Some wanted millions in sky-high relocation fees, some requested S.H.I.E.L.D. to immediately resolve personal lawsuits and debt troubles, and even worse, would demand extremely high internal authority and independent private experimental equipment.
Fury had prepared a whole set of bargaining rhetoric in his heart, and even prepared a portion of resource limits that he could concede on.
However, he never expected that the condition put forward by Arthur was such a simple "don't want to go to work, want to slack off".
Almost without any hesitation.
Against the grand backdrop where Earth was constantly facing various unknown threats and extremely lacked top combat power, compared to the absurd super-speed Arthurdisplayed in the desert, this so-called "unrestrained" condition could simply be said to be a negligible price.
"Okay." Fury even skipped the formalities of bargaining and directly and simply nodded in agreement,
"Agreement reached. As long as you don't blow up New York, we will never interfere with whatever you usually love to do. The specific onboarding procedures will be processed internally, and someone will be responsible for delivering an encrypted personal communicator here afterward. As for other trivial matters..."
Fury paused and asked routinely: "Regarding logistical support or anything else, Mr. Arthur, do you have any other requests?"
Arthur shook his head slowly.
His most urgent matter right now was definitely not swiping a few free suits from S.H.I.E.L.D. or getting two meals reimbursed.
In the next room, that little girlfriend with short pinkish-gold hair still had her stomach churning at the moment, waiting for him to go over and warm the bed. This was much more important than those trivial matters of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Seeing Arthur neatly and cleanly refuse, Fury didn't talk nonsense anymore.
He reached out his wide right hand from the pocket of his black windbreaker, presenting it very formally in front of Arthur.
Arthur reached out his hand, and under the dim light, the palms of the two clenched tightly together, counting as completing this transaction that seemed like a child's play on the surface but actually had a huge impact on the future.
With the matter done, Fury let go of his hand, habitually straightened the collar of his windbreaker, turned around, and was about to walk toward the half-open door of the apartment.
He still had a pile of messes to deal with, especially to steady that rich second-generation heir who had just stolen the spotlight in front of the media.
"Wait a minute."
Just at the moment when Fury's toes were about to step out of the threshold, Arthur suddenly called out to him from behind.
Fury stopped in his tracks, turning his head suspiciously.
But what he saw was Arthur suddenly wearing an expression of some special interest.
On that handsome, delicate face that usually always exuded gentleness, consideration, and appeared exceptionally steady, a dark-bellied smile carrying 30% banter and 70% mischief was slowly curling up at this moment. That mischievous smile made Lord Directorinstinctively feel his back go slightly cold.
"Hey, this mysterious boss whose specific name is still unknown to this day."
Arthur rubbed his hands, moving toward Fury with extremely light footsteps, his tone sounding like a child preparing a prank,
"In the middle of the night, the wind outside is so cold, and New York taxis are not very easy to hail right now. Do I need to carry forward the virtue of respecting the elderly and loving the young as a new employee, and give you a free ride?"
Ever since discovering the talisman in his consciousness, Arthur hadn't genuinely and seriously tried what effect it was like to take someone on a long-distance run using the Rabbit Talisman these past few days.
Previously when going to the building to find Stark to exchange for a reactor, because Gwen was by his side and needed disguise, he could only aggrievedly take a taxi.
Now that there was a big bald head actively delivering himself to the door as a test subject, a once-in-a-lifetime good opportunity like this, how could his mischievousness that occasionally popped out be contained?
Fury stood in place, watching Arthur approaching step by step, his single eye narrowing.
Actually, when Arthur first proposed this suggestion, there was a tiny bit of eager curiosity in Fury's heart.
Ever since the intelligence department in the bureau handed that desert videotape—which was almost dragged into a streak—onto his desk, he had been studying this speed that transcended physical limits.
He had indeed never personally experienced what kind of counterintuitive sensory shock it would be to be carried and moved by someone using so-called "super-speed".
However, when Fury truly and clearly saw the increasingly obvious mischievous smile at the corner of Arthur's mouth that completely did not conceal his malicious intentions, the Agent's sixth sense, which had wandered on the edge of life and death for years, suddenly sounded like it pulled off the highest-level air defense alarm.
"Intuition tells me this kid is up to no good." Fury muttered inwardly, and a certain ominous feeling rushed straight from his heels to his brain.
He subconsciously stepped back half a step, just opened his mouth, and that crisp word "No" was still spinning in his throat, not even having time to spit out the first syllable.
"All right, let's go, hold on tight."
Arthur's voice carrying a hint of joyful banter rang out in the entryway.
Fury didn't even see clearly how he crossed the distance between the two, only feeling an extremely powerful hand carrying a certain unrefusable warmth land heavily on his arm under the sleeve of his black windbreaker.
At this very moment.
There was no roaring sound, nor any early warning of an engine starting.
The dust flying under the faint light of the entryway seemed to freeze.
The half-open wooden door still maintained its previous arc, and even the draft blowing in from the crack of the door didn't have time to change direction.
Meanwhile, at the entrance of Arthur's living room where two living people were just standing, the air suddenly distorted into a nearly transparent afterimage.
It was just like the picture when an old videotape dropped frames; the person was still there the previous second, and the next second only a blurry visual residue torn apart at extreme speed remained.
The two of them thus vanished out of thin air into the night of Brooklyn. Leaving only that lonely security door making a lonely "creak" sound in the night wind.
Meanwhile, in another run-down apartment just less than half a street away.
Ghost Spider Gwen Stacy had just painstakingly swallowed the third strawberry donut of tonight.
She crossed her slender little feet wearing white pure cotton short socks on the sheets, occasionally using her finger to wipe away a bit of pink frosting remaining at the corner of her mouth.
The boyfriend-style white T-shirt, large enough to wrap her entire person inside, swayed slightly with her movements, its hem rolling up inadvertently, revealing a small section of thighs whose lines were extremely tight and graceful due to long-term ballet training.
She glanced at the alarm clock showing the time on the bedside table, her two pretty eyebrows twisting together slightly.
Because she was somewhat anxious, she couldn't even help gently biting her lower lip with her teeth.
"He said he was going to go warm up the bed for me... Why hasn't he sent a message for so long to let me go over."
Gwen muttered softly in her heart. At this moment, her mind was full of the desire to crawl into Arthur's quilt that had a pleasant soapy scent.
In this Universe without any family, only by that boy's side could her heart—filled with guilt from lying and extremely afraid of losing everything at any time—settle down a bit for a few minutes.
She hugged the paper box in her hand that still had more than half a donut left tightly, just like hugging a piece of driftwood that could prevent her from falling from an illusory life.
Chapter 27 Fury: This feeling is really terrible.
Inside the oversized flat-floor living room on the top floor of Stark Tower, the holographic projection equipment was running at full power, casting the entire high-ceilinged space in a deep blue glow.
Suspended in the air were countless complex three-dimensional lines and perspective views of metal components, which were all initial ideas regarding the remodeling of the Mark II armor.
At this moment, Tony Stark was sitting cross-legged on that custom oversized sofa, holding a cup of black coffee that had already gone cold.
He stared at the magnified cross-sectional view of the armor arm in mid-air, his brows knitted tightly together as he grumbled incessantly.
"No, this is absolutely no good. The space utilization inside this arm is still too conservative."
Tony set down his coffee cup irritably, waved his hands in the air, and pulled another ammunition depot structural diagram in front of him.
"Look at that big guy who was smashing things up on the rooftop just now. Although the Iron Monger created by that old man Obadiah is as ugly as a walking scrap iron can, in terms of firepower dumping, it is indeed quite intimidating. The ammunition storage of our new armor is simply too small; it bottoms out after just a few casual micro-missiles, which is simply not satisfying enough in actual combat."
The more Tony talked, the more enthusiastic he became, pointing his fingers at the holographic projection.
"I am even thinking, what if we could slightly borrow the heavy firepower concept of Iron Monger, like externally mounting some high-compression live ammunition pods on the shoulders or legs? What is this called? Taking the essence and discarding the dross. As long as we get rid of those damn heavy gear drives and replace them with smarter servo motors, it is completely achievable."
Sitting opposite Tony was Dr. Yinsen.
At this time, he was wearing a well-tailored casual outfit and holding an electronic recording board in his hand.
Hearing Tony's speech, which possessed a strong arms dealer fanatic attribute, Dr. Yinsen did not immediately refute, but instead leisurely pushed up the glasses on the bridge of his nose and projected several sets of energy data from the recording board between the two of them.
"Tony, thermal weapons can indeed bring visual deterrence, but their physical upper limit is too low."
Dr. Yinsen's voice was steady and gentle, exuding a rationality and restraint unique to a scholar.
"Live ammunition will always run out, and a large amount of ammunition reserve will not only greatly squeeze the internal space, but also increase the overall weight of the armor, directly dragging down the flight maneuverability you were just proud of."
Dr. Yinsen drew a circle in the air with his finger, highlighting the position of the reactor on the armor's chest.
"In fact, we can change our thinking and use micro-missiles like thermal weapons merely as a tactical auxiliary. Since you have already mastered such massive clean energy in this glowing little disc, the main development direction of the armor must focus on the improvement of maneuverability and deep improvements in energy weapons. Think about it, if we continue iterative improvements, pure energy weapons have neither ammunition restrictions nor mechanical failures of shell ejection, which is the broad path this armor should take in the future."
By the long bar counter on the side, Pepper Potts was rubbing her temples helplessly.
Ever since Tony landed safely tens of minutes ago, these two men had been acting as if they were possessed, plunging headfirst into the physics and engineering jargon she completely could not understand.
Things like "servo system", "energy conversion rate", and "payload area ratio" — these vocabulary words were like a swarm of annoying flies buzzing in her ears.
"You two continue researching; my brain is going to explode if I listen any longer."
Pepper sighed, directly turned around in her high heels, and left the living room without looking back.
Since her boss was missing neither arms nor legs, she still had to go deal with the huge mess of media PR left behind by the destruction of the building's top floor tonight.
Just as Pepper's front foot had left, before the living room's automatic sensing glass door had time to fully close, a sudden change occurred.
Without any warning, Jarvis's security system did not issue even the slightest alarm sound.
Only an extremely slight "pop" sound was suddenly heard in the air at the center of the living room, as if the originally flat space was forcibly torn open by someone into a tiny opening, and then snapped shut.
An unusual current of air rippled among the holographic projections, blowing several scattered paper blueprints around to flutter wildly.
Immediately afterwards, Arthur and that black trench coat Director who was forcibly dragged over—the supreme Commander of S.H.I.E.L.D., that "Egghead" viewed by the outside World as extremely difficult to deal with—suddenly broke in out of thin air, appearing stiffly on the carpet in the center of the living room.
This kind of instantaneous movement spanning extremely distant distances was as easy as going downstairs to throw away trash for Arthur, who possessed the blessing of the Twelve Talismans and especially used the Rabbit Talismanto perfection.
But for an ordinary person who was unprepared and forcibly pulled into a high-speed state, it was simply a sudden disaster.
At the very moment of landing, Fury, this Agent leader who had seen all kinds of big storms, only felt his head ring with a loud "buzz", as if someone was fiercely striking inside his skull with a large iron hammer.
His semicircular canals experienced incomprehensible confusion in an extremely short period of time, and a strong sense of discomfort rushed straight from his stomach to his throat.
Fury's slick head sank abruptly, and his sole remaining solitary eye saw everything as double images at this moment.
All the luxury furniture and deep blue holographic projections before his eyes shattered into countless light spots, his vision was completely blurred, just like an old cathode-ray tube television suddenly losing signal, leaving only a screen full of flickering static snow.
He couldn't care at all about maintaining any Directordignity in this completely unfamiliar environment; his legs went soft, he stumbled two steps, and he hurriedly reached out his hands to tightly support the extremely wide leather sofa next to him.
Fury's entire body was hunched over, panting heavily, trying to forcibly suppress the churning dizziness in his mind.
After easing up for quite a while, Fury barely squeezed out a complaint from between his teeth: "This experience... is a bit poor. If possible in the future, really, just don't bring me along."
At this very moment, Tony, who was still sitting on the sofa holding his coffee cup studying blueprints, and Dr. Yinsen, who was holding the recording board, were both in a state of extreme dumbfoundedness.
Tony Stark, this Iron Man who had just clashed with Iron Monger in the sky a few hours ago, was frozen in place at this moment as if someone had pressed the pause button on him.
He widened those eyes that were already not small, his gaze switching back and forth between Arthur's casual homewear and the bald one-eyed dragon next to him who was still desperately catching his breath.
Tony opened his mouth, seeming to want to immediately have Jarvis activate some defensive weapon, but his brain directly crashed in front of this unreasonable scene.
He raised his right hand, pointing tremblingly with his index finger at Arthur standing there expressionlessly.
His mouth remained open for a long time, but those sarcastic jokes and sharp-tongued taunts that he usually tossed out effortlessly didn't come to mind at all.
After several seconds, Tony stammered and squeezed a sentence out from his throat:
"You... you guys... how did you get in? Is my top-floor security system just for show?!"
For Stark's incredible questioning, Arthur didn't even have the desire to explain.
He just spread his hands toward Tony very casually, wearing a perfunctory expression of "I didn't want to come either, just passing by", and didn't say a single word from beginning to end.
Right now, his mind was only thinking about returning to the old apartment in Brooklyn to accompany that little girlfriend who was still pretending to be sick.
As for these troublesome characters in front of him who would be saving the World all day in the future, he had zero interest in interfering.
Just in these awkward few seconds, Egghead leaning against the sofa finally recovered a bit of strength.
Fury shook his bald head that looked like an Eggheadvigorously, closed his solitary eye, took a deep breath, and swallowed down the last trace of churning sour water in his stomach.
When he opened his eyes again and straightened his body, the long-lost coldness and majesty of the Agent Directorreturned to him once more, as if the dizzy and disheveled man just now was simply not him.
Fury tidied up the black long trench coat on his body that didn't have a single wrinkle, and leisurely walked over to Tony, who had not yet recovered from the shock.
He looked down at Tony on the sofa from above, and slowly spoke in an extremely low, hoarse tone that seemed capable of seeing through everything.
"Hello, Tony Stark."
Fury stared at Tony with his single eye.
"I am S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Nick Fury. Since there is already one more so-called super hero wearing an iron can in this World, I think it is very necessary for us to sit down and talk about establishing the 'Avengers'."
This opening line, which had epoch-making significance for the entire Marvel Universe, sounded like a muffled thunderclap to Tony, but Arthur on the side merely yawned out of boredom.
For these so-called "major events" that had long been thoroughly spoiled, he couldn't raise the slightest bit of interest at all.
Seeing that Egghead had officially started going through the process to enter the recruitment phase, Arthur turned around without hesitation, didn't even say goodbye, directly strode forward, and leisurely walked out of the living room, heading back home.
Meanwhile, on the other side, far away in the shabby apartment in Brooklyn, time seemed to be infinitely prolonged.
Gwen was curled up on her not-so-spacious single bed.
She had long taken off the oversized T-shirt used for outside disguise, wearing only comfortable camisole pajamas, her whole person like a kitten lacking a sense of security, tightly lying on the half-person-tall large shark doll at the head of the bed.
The sirens outside the window still sounded from time to time, but she was too lazy to even lift her eyelids.
Ever since she threw all the heavy responsibilities of Spider-Woman via mobile phone to that newcomer named Peter Parker, there was an indescribable sense of relief in Gwen's heart.
Right now, she was just Arthur's girlfriend.
That rock girl who looked extremely cool and fierce on the outside and could beat street punks until they lost their teeth all over the floor now rested her chin on the soft spine of the doll, her eyes staring fixedly at the smartphone placed beside the pillow.
"It's already so late, is it done yet or not..."
Gwen muttered softly in her heart, her brows slightly knitted, and that extremely contradictory trauma-type tsundere emotion in her heart began to act up again.
On one hand, she extremely desired for Arthur to immediately appear at the door, pat her head, and embrace her into that warm hug; on the other hand, she felt a trace of vague guilt and a guilty conscience because she had fabricated that nonsense about her period.
This feeling of anxiety over gains and losses crawled back and forth on the tip of her heart like ants.
Just as she was about to bite a mark on her lower lip, two short vibration sounds of "buzz buzz" suddenly rang out in the quiet bedroom.
The phone screen lit up.
At this moment, Gwen's eyes lit up instantly, practically like seeing the most gorgeous fireworks in Times Square.
Her face, which was originally somewhat anxious, immediately relaxed, and the corners of her mouth lifted upwards defencelessly, revealing a cloyingly sweet smile.
She straightened her body up from the doll almost as if electrocuted, two fingers quickly grabbed the phone, and she prepared to tap open the screen full of anticipation.
However, when her clear azure-blue eyes saw the short message prompt popped up on the lock screen interface, the smile at the corners of her eyes froze instantly.
It wasn't Arthur.
The sender's remark clearly wrote: Peter Parker (Part-time Substitute).
There was only a simple sentence on the screen: "Senior, the mission is complete."
This showed that the newcomer who had just started out had successfully cleaned up the Iron Monger that had plunged Tony Stark into a bitter battle, prevented the situation from deteriorating further, kept New York safe, and fulfilled the duties of Spider-Man.
But for Gwen, whose mind was full of only romance at this moment, it was completely meaningless.
The smile on her face gradually faded and disappeared.
Gwen didn't even perform the fingerprint unlocking action, nor did she reply to that message to praise her counterpart junior's hard work.
She just pouted somewhat discouragedly, and casually flipped the phone face down onto the soft quilt with a "clack" sound like throwing away a useless little stone.
Afterwards, like a deflated ball, she slumped limply back onto that huge shark doll once again.
She buried half her face into the doll's plush fur, stubbornly and quietly continuing to wait for news from the man who could truly fill her heart.
Chapter 28: Thinking Ying (Part 1)
The night wind in Brooklyn carried a touch of the city's unique commotion, slipping in through the crack of the half-open window.
Borrowing the power of the Rabbit Talisman, Arthur left not even a trace of an afterimage in the air as he stepped steadily onto the wooden floor of his old apartment.
There was no spatial tearing sensation brought about by crossing space, nor the kind of disorienting dizziness.
For him, relying on these magical trump cards branded deep within his consciousness to sneak back from the heavily guarded top floor of Stark Tower was practically easier than going downstairs to take out the trash.
He casually took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack by the doorway, walked straight over to the sofa, bent down to fluff the throw pillows, and then walked over to the bed to shake out the quilt, testing the temperature inside the covers with the back of his hand.
After confirming that everything felt soft and comfortable, Arthur finally took out the smartphone from his pants pocket that had remained quiet throughout this storm.
The faint light of the screen illuminated his face, and he opened the chat interface with Gwen, his fingers rapidly tapping a line of text on the keypad:
"I have warmed up the bed, come over."
Click send.
How fast was the reply for that "Okay"? To describe it as extreme speed would be a bit conservative.
Almost the moment Arthur's finger left the send button, a reply popped up at the top of the screen with a "ding" sound.
That speed was as if his little girlfriend next door or downstairs—who always put on a brave front in front of him pretending to have a stomachache and using changing a pad as an excuse—was doing nothing at this moment, just gripping her phone tightly, staring unblinkingly at the screen with her thumb hovering over the input box specifically waiting for him.
Not even a minute had passed.
"Tap, tap, tap."
Arthur casually tossed his phone onto the small coffee table nearby, walked over, grabbed the doorknob, and gently twisted it downward.
The door had barely opened a crack when a slender figure, like a swift swallow returning to the woods, swept in with a faint, familiar scent of body wash and recklessly crashed directly into his arms.
"I missed you so much…"
Gwen was wearing that light gray hooded sweatshirt that was obviously a size too big, enshrouding her entire body within it.
Without even glancing at the foyer, she unceremoniously wrapped her arms tightly around Arthur's waist, burying her entire face and that pink-and-gold gradient short hair into Arthur's chest, rubbing against it forcefully.
Her voice was muffled, sounding even with a hint of a nasal tone that she would only display in front of Arthur.
That Spider-Woman who usually could web-sling in midair and kick mobsters until they lost their bearings, that cool girl who carried the heavy trauma of losing a close friend and always had to pretend to be invincible in front of outsiders, was right now like a little kitten that had frozen in the ice and snow for a long time and finally found a fireplace.
All her bravado and aloofness shattered completely in this embrace, leaving behind only unreserved reliance.
Feeling the slightly accelerated heartbeat of the girl in his arms, Arthur's eyes and brows were filled with gentle smiles as he extremely naturally raised the hand that had once grasped immense power, gently covering Gwen's fluffy head.
Following her hair, with a very patient strength, he stroked it down time and time again. That was a kind of very tolerant and very steady pacification.
"I missed you too."
Arthur softly replied, then used his other arm to wrap around her shoulders, half-hugging and half-holding this clingy girl.
Turning his back to close the security door, he brought her slowly over to the sofa, and the two of them snuggled back into that warm spot.
And just as Arthur and Gwen were enjoying this moment of tranquility, on the top floor of Stark Tower several blocks away, the atmosphere finally thoroughly eased from the thrilling aftertaste of Arthur forcibly teleporting people away.
In that oversized flat-floor living room filled with blue-purple holographic projections and various scattered metal components.
Tony Stark, who had just experienced a fall from high altitude and a gunfight on the rooftop, along with the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Nick Fury—who wore a black long trench coat and was forever blind in his left eye—after a round of smoke-free yet barbed verbal sparring, officially finalized the entry deal regarding the "Avengers Initiative".
Although the process inevitably involved Tony's usual sharp-tongued resistance, this could still be considered a huge step forward taken by S.H.I.E.L.D..
After settling the main person, Fury's single eye, sharp as a falcon, did not stop searching.
He turned his head slightly, casting his highly oppressive and unfathomable gaze onto Dr. Yinsen, who was sitting aside and had been trying his best to lower his presence since earlier.
Fury took a step forward, the hem of his wrinkle-free trench coat sweeping a crisp arc through the air.
He formally extended his black leather-gloved right hand before this suffering physicist.
"Welcome to you as well, Dr. Yinsen."
Not a shred of coercion could be heard in Fury's low, raspy voice; instead, it exuded a seasoned sincerity.
"I witnessed Stark's nonsense just now. The department I manage, although not lacking in resources, is extremely lacking in technical personnel like you who have a solid academic foundation and can maintain sanity in extreme environments. Interested in coming to lend us a hand?"
Dr. Yinsen was sitting on that high-end sofa when he was suddenly called out by this terrifyingly high-aura Agenthead, causing his entire person to stiffen a bit.
As a pure scholar who had soaked in laboratories for most of his life, although he had followed Tony through bullets and fire at the desert Base and even witnessed Arthur's magical extreme speed of tearing tanks apart bare-handed, facing such unfathomable high-level government personnel in reality, he still felt so flustered that he didn't know where to put his hands.
Dr. Yinsen hurriedly tucked the scientific research recording board he had been tightly holding under his left armpit. Because his palms were covered in fine sweat from nervousness, he awkwardly rubbed them hard against the edge of his casual trousers.
Only then did he cautiously extend his right hand, shaking Fury's thick, gloved hand somewhat stiffly.
"I… I will do my best." Dr. Yinsen swallowed a mouthful of saliva, barely managing a response.
Amidst this slightly raw and polite atmosphere, Tony—who was leaning against the edge of the sofa on the other side, lowering his head to check the new version of the Arc Reactor on his chest—unintentionally swept his peripheral vision across the empty carpet in the center of the living room.
That was precisely the place where Arthur had previously appeared out of thin air bringing this Egghead Director, and then vanished into thin air again.
The clever nerve in Tony's brain twitched violently. He immediately raised his head, a trace of doubt appearing on his face that usually always wore a cynical smile. Pointing his finger at that empty spot, he directly interrupted the small talk between Fury and Dr. Yinsen.
Chapter 29 Free Time
Early mornings in Brooklyn always woke up very early, with the gentle rising sunlight filtering through the gaps of the partially closed blinds to carve bright golden light spots onto the apartment's slightly worn wooden floor.
Gwen Stacy slowly opened her eyes in this gentle light.
The girl's light-golden gradient-pink short hair appeared somewhat messy at the moment, with a few strands of hair resting limply against her fair cheeks.
She did not immediately turn over and get out of bed urged by her biological clock as usual, but instead maintained a side-lying posture, watching the sleeping face right before her with extreme quietness.
Arthur's breathing was very even, his chest rising and falling with a slight, smooth rhythm.
In this complex double life filled with concealment, battles, loss, and responsibility, only by watching Arthur sleep peacefully could Gwen's perpetually taut superhero nerves finally relax completely.
The guardedness in the depths of her eyes was completely replaced by an emotion called tenderness, her blue eyes filled with an unbreakable attachment.
A morning breeze slipped through the gap in the window, bringing with it a hint of chill.
Gwen frowned slightly, and with the utmost gentleness, reached out to pull the edge of the quilt upward, carefully covering Arthur's shoulders while tucking in a drafty corner inward.
She didn't even dare to breathe heavily while doing these actions, fearing that even the slightest sound of fabric friction would disturb the boy before her who made her feel incomparably at ease.
Right at this quiet and warm moment, the smartphone placed on the bedside table emitted a high-frequency vibration without any warning.
That "buzzing" sound appeared extremely abrupt and harsh in the absolutely quiet bedroom.
Gwen's pupils shrank sharply, and almost out of a bodily instinct, she bounced up like a frightened cat.
Her first reaction wasn't even to grab the phone, but to immediately hold her breath, turn her head, and stare fixedly at Arthur's face.
After confirming that Arthur's brows didn't even frown and his breathing remained steady and calm, she let out a long sigh of relief, and the hand pressed tightly against her chest lowered slightly.
Biting her lower lip, she cautiously lifted a corner of the quilt with movements so light that they didn't make any sound.
The girl stepped barefooted on the slightly cool floor, grabbed the phone that was still vibrating endlessly, slipped out of the bedroom, and sneaked into the small living room outside with a guilty conscience all the way.
Leaning against the slightly cold wall of the living room, Gwen glanced at the name on the screen remarked as band member and pressed the answer button.
"Hello." She kept her voice extremely low, as if even her vocal cords were restraining the vibration.
On the other side immediately came the complaining voice of Mary Jane's band teammate, filled with strong dissatisfaction and questioning.
"Hey. Gwen, I said, our lead drummer, just when do you plan to go missing until? We haven't even seen a shadow of you for days, and you haven't come to the rehearsal room for training at all. Come clean, did something happen at home? If Uncle George grounded you again, you have to tell us straight."
Hearing her teammate say this, a blush involuntarily floated across Gwen's face, making her look somewhat embarrassed. She hurriedly covered the phone's earpiece and began to explain in a low, eager voice.
"No, no, everything is normal at home, don't worry. It's just... I've been staying with my boyfriend recently, lost track of time a bit, and forgot about the training..."
Upon hearing this extremely honest reason, the teammate on the other end of the phone fell into a weird silence lasting several seconds.
That silence seemed to brew a huge resentment born of being single.
Afterwards, the teammate's eerie voice came through the radio waves, carrying a gnashing-of-teeth teasing tone.
"A boyfriend~ And always sticking together~ Damn it, Gwen Stacy, do you know how hard it is for the few of us to bang those broken instruments in the Underground Room every day? You better get your ass over here for training right now, stop indulging in romance over there. If you dare to stand us up again today, otherwise this crappy band of ours might as well disband right on the spot."
As soon as the words fell, the phone was ruthlessly hung up by the other party, leaving only a busy tone echoing in Gwen's ears.
Looking at the darkened phone screen, Gwen's cheeks couldn't help but feel even hotter.
She also knew clearly that as the absolute main drummer of the band, lately, out of indulging in the ordinary daily life with Arthur and being distracted by all sorts of messy things from Iron Monger, she had indeed skipped her teammates' training for a long time.
If she didn't go today with various excuses either, it would truly be too shameless, and even she herself felt somewhat guilty.
Just as Gwen leaned against the wall, calculating in her mind how to bring up her departure to Arthur, a slight sound of bed friction came from the bedroom.
Arthur had actually woken up when that phone vibration sound started, but he had been lying quietly without breaking that peace.
Until hearing that there was no movement in the living room, he slowly sat up from the bed, yawned very naturally, and casually rubbed his eyes that still carried a bit of hazy sleepiness with the back of his hand.
Looking at his little girlfriend standing at the doorway of the living room, nervously clutching the hem of her clothes, his voice carried a lazy huskiness due to just waking up.
"What's wrong, girl, running outside early in the morning to answer a phone call."
Caught red-handed, Gwen blinked awkwardly, raised one hand to scratch her slightly messy pinkish-gold short hair, playfully stuck out her tongue, and shuffled back to the bedside in small steps to sit down.
"Yu, sorry. It's just that there's training on the band's side, and my teammates just called to urge me. I haven't gone to rehearsal for a long time, if I don't go this time either, they're really going to get mad and explode over there."
The tone of her speech when talking was soft and sweet, even carrying a little bit of spoiled coquettishness unique to young girls, lowering her eyes and not daring to look directly into Arthur's eyes, seeming very afraid that he would feel angry because she ruined their original time together.
After listening, Arthur widened his eyes slightly, showing an expression full of regret and loss.
"Oh my, that's really such a pity, to think I was overjoyed and originally thought I could have a nice date with you today."
Although on the surface he pretended to be reluctant to part and even somewhat aggrieved, deep inside Arthur's heart, these words inexplicably gave rise to a trace of secret relief and satisfaction.
Arthur's little black-bellied and calculating nature quickly laid out a schedule in his mind.
If Gwen went to training, it meant that he would have a whole day of completely discretionary time today, able to go stir up all kinds of troubles in the Marvel Universewithout any scruples.
After all, just last night he had used the super speed of the Rabbit Talisman to give S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Egghead Director a huge deterrent, finalizing his Agent agreement of "only being a nominal figure and not being restricted".
Since the plot on Stark's side had temporarily come to an end, he could just use today's excellent gap to probe the internal situation of S.H.I.E.L.D., and by the way, sort out how to better use some of the newly acquired talisman powers.
Although planning various schemes to "make trouble" in his spare time in his mind felt a bit sorry for the silly girl before him whose eyes were full of him, this freedom of being able to expand his survival chips at will without being constrained by his hero girlfriend truly made him feel heartfelt joy.
Pulling his thoughts back to reality, looking at Gwen whose head hung even lower due to his word of "regret" and whose guilt on her face was becoming heavier and heavier, Arthur's heartstrings couldn't help but soften a bit.
He rose and got out of bed with crisp movements, stepping across the floor straight to Gwen's front.
Just as the girl slightly raised her head wanting to continue apologizing, Arthur smoothly bent down and very naturally and gently planted a light kiss on her soft lips.
This was an extremely pure morning touch without any attached meaning.
Arthur then straightened his body slightly, lowered his head and smiled to meet Gwen's pair of blue eyes that lit up instantly.
"Alright, this is a morning kiss, and then I wish you a happy time in the rehearsal room today, don't always get yelled at by your teammates."
Gwen, who originally felt gloomy because she was forced to interrupt her time with Arthur and had to run off to play drums, after truly and tangibly feeling that warm gentle kiss, her whole mood felt as if it had been injected with a high-purity shot of syrup.
The apprehension and guilt belonging to a young girl in her heart were instantly filled with sweetness, and she suddenly became vibrant and energetic all over again, with the smiles between her eyebrows and eyes completely unable to be hidden.
"Mm-hmm." Gwen nodded vigorously, leaned her body forward slightly, and looked at Arthur with a gaze full of anticipation, "Then see you tonight."
Arthur reached out and ruffled her head, soothing her along her hair strands.
"See you tonight, I'll go downstairs to your rehearsal room to pick you up tonight."
Hearing this promise full of daily sense of belonging, Gwennodded with satisfaction.
She jumped up from the bedside like a light butterfly, ran to the side and began to extremely briskly pack up her messy personal belongings, changed into that set of clothes full of street rock style, and carefully stuffed the drumsticks of the drum set into the side pocket of her backpack.
When walking to the door, she didn't forget to turn her head back, waved at Arthur, and only then gently closed the apartment door.
Listening to the soft "click" of the door lock snapping shut, Arthur stood in the quieted room, the expression on his face slowly withdrawing the casual playfulness he used specifically to tease his girlfriend.
He walked over to the sofa and sat down, resting his arm on the backrest, casting his gaze toward the gradually bustling streets outside the window of New York City, the thoughts in his mind beginning to turn rapidly, seriously pondering which step of the plan he should execute during today's hard-earned leisure time.
Chapter 30: Leisure Time at Tony's House (Entering the Daily Arc)
The morning air still retained the faint scent of vanilla from Gwen, and with a click of the apartment door locking, the hustle and bustle belonging to an ordinary rock girl temporarily faded away, leaving the entire room completely peaceful.
Arthur stood by the window, watching the figure with a single-shoulder bag and brisk footsteps merge into the flow of people on the street downstairs, before slowly turning around and spreading his arms to stretch a big, satisfying stretch. As his bones emitted a crisp sound of stretching, he felt the muscles all over his body relax in this rare moment of leisure.
Actually, there wasn't anything special that needed tidying up in the room; he simply straightened the cushions on the sofa that Gwen had tossed around somewhat messily, and casually threw the remaining empty soda cans from yesterday's drink into the trash can in the corner.
On this morning when he didn't need to play the role of a peerless good boyfriend, Arthur casually pulled out an ordinary smartphone from his trouser pocket. Swiping the screen and skillfully searching through his contacts, he pressed the number representing the ruthless capitalist.
The phone rang only twice before it was answered, and Tony Stark's voice, always carrying a hint of nonchalance and taken-for-granted tone, came through the earpiece. In the background, the clashing of metal and a slight electronic buzzing could be vaguely heard: "Hey, magical oriental kid, how do you have time to call a busy person like me early in the morning? Don't you dare say you missed me."
"You think too much." Arthur leaned against the sofa, raising an eyebrow at the phone, "I'm heading over to your place now, open the door."
"No problem, if you take a cab out now, it's estimated to take forty minutes… Wait, Jarvis, bring the second hangar's…"
Before Tony's instructions on the other end of the phone were finished, Arthur unceremoniously pressed the hang-up button. At that very hundredth of a second when the screen went dark, a thought flashed through his mind, and the power of the Rabbit Talisman within him was instantly stimulated. The surrounding World seemed to be pressed with some extremely exaggerated slow-motion button in his perception, and the originally flowing air became like sticky syrup. He didn't even leave a residual shadow in this old apartment, and with a speed that completely defied physical laws, his entire body completely tore through the distance of space.
Inside the spacious and high-tech-textured workshop on the ground floor of Tony's private Villa by the New Yorkcoastline.
Tony Stark was frowning, keeping the phone a small distance from his ear, listening to the "beep beep" busy tone coming from inside. He had just turned his head, wanting to complain to Dr. Yinsen, who was busy in front of the holographic projection, about how fast that guy hung up the phone, when a sudden and extremely unreasonable gale whipped up out of thin air inside the workshop. The wind blew several scattered sketches on Tony's desk flying all over the sky, and even the steaming cup of black coffee he was holding almost splashed a few drops.
"Bang."
Arthur landed on his feet without any warning, even the corners of his clothes still fluttering slightly from the high-speed movement just now. He clapped his hands very naturally, as if walking over from the next room, and grinned at the dumbfounded Tony: "I have arrived."
Tony was stunned for a full two seconds before tossing the phone back onto the desktop. He pressed down the hand holding the coffee cup, seemingly to calm the instantaneous acceleration of his heartbeat just now, and then shook his head helplessly, a somewhat sour, bitter smile curling at the corners of his mouth: "Goodness, you guy. Having such a godlike speed ability that ignores spatial distance is really so convenient it makes people jealous, right."
Tony stepped forward, patted Arthur's shoulder like an old friend, and casually pulled over a barstool to sit down: "Speak, suddenly gracing my underground fortress with your presence, is there something important? Could it be that some iron-clad big guy popped up in New York again that needs you to clean up?"
Arthur leaned against a nearby workbench, spread his hands helplessly, and sighed: "To be honest, during my precious free time this morning, I didn't actually want to come find you. Mainly because last night, that EggheadDirector from S.H.I.E.L.D. who always wears a black leather windbreaker came looking for me. After a round of extreme back-and-forth, I reluctantly agreed to become a nominal, non-interfering Agent."
Speaking of this, Arthur rubbed his temples with some annoyance: "As a result, the most awkward thing happened. That Egghead running all over the World hasn't equipped me with any exclusive high-level communicator yet, and even left in such a hurry that he didn't even leave me an ordinary phone number. Now if I have an urgent matter and want to extract some intelligence, I can't even find hide nor hair of him. I'm completely out of contact, and can only run over to your place to try my luck."
Tony, who was originally drinking coffee, had his pupils instantly dilate when he heard the two words "Egghead" pop out of Arthur's mouth so naturally, and a mouthful of coffee got stuck right in his throat. His mind obviously immediately conjured up Nick Fury's iconic black reflective bald head and his always poker-faced, single-eyed look. Combined, the nickname "Egghead" was precise and vicious to the extreme.
"Pfft… Cough cough!"
The corners of Tony's mouth twitched violently and uncontrollably. He quickly turned his head, clenched his hand into a fist held to his mouth, and desperately suppressed the wild laughter that had surged to his throat with a few heavy, dry coughs, his face turning somewhat red from holding it in. He took two deep breaths, forcibly dragged back his ruthless boss demeanor, pulled out a tissue to wipe the corner of his mouth, and hurriedly followed up on Arthur's words: "Fine, fine, fine, in a moment I'll have Jarvis help you contact that Eg— Cough!"
Tony was almost led astray by Arthur, breaking out in a cold sweat, and quickly bit the tip of his tongue to correct himself: "No, I mean Director Fury. Jarvis has encrypted records of his communication frequency band."
After dealing with this trivial matter, Tony immediately changed the subject, seemingly to cover up the embarrassment of almost breaking character just now. He lifted his chin and nodded toward a dining cart on the other side of the workbench. On the cart was a luxury breakfast freshly prepared by a private chef — Wagyu sandwiches exuding a charming charred aroma, runny fried eggs drenched in black truffle sauce, sizzling high-end thick-cut bacon, and freshly squeezed orange juice. The rich aroma of fats and carbohydrates instantly permeated this space filled with the smell of engine oil.
"Teleporting back and forth early in the morning is also quite physically exhausting, right." Tony raised an eyebrow, speaking in a very casual tone, "Have you eaten? I happen to be getting ready to have breakfast over here, and the chef made a bit too much. Why don't you just stay and freeload a meal?"
Arthur, who had previously appeared somewhat bored, smelled that wave of food aroma and followed Tony's gaze to see the top-grade ingredients shining with the light of capitalist money on the dining cart. His eyes instantly lit up with a "whoosh". As a poor college student transmigrator who essentially had to calculate travel expenses even when taking his girlfriend out to the desert, a free feast of this level was simply a fatal temptation.
Without almost any hesitation, he immediately nodded his head at an extremely fast frequency like a chick pecking at rice: "Eat! Freeload! A rich person's breakfast, it'd be foolish not to freeload!"
Finished speaking, Arthur couldn't even care to continue being polite with Tony, directly pulling over a chair and sitting down in front of the dining cart, rolling up his sleeves and starting to tuck in heartily. He took a bite of the Wagyu sandwich rich with savory juices, closed his eyes and let out an incomparably enjoyed sigh, and then unceremoniously forked a large piece of fried egg into his mouth.
After a long while, this one-sided sweeping feast finally ended. Arthur slumped in the chair, pulled out a tissue featuring the Stark Industries logo to casually wipe the corners of his mouth, and let out a loud, highly satisfied, and completely unhinged burp: "Hiccup — I have to say, Tony, just for the craftsmanship of your chef at home, this trip of mine was entirely worth the price of admission."
Tony watched Arthur's starving-ghost-reincarnated appearance as if he hadn't eaten for hundreds of years from the side, shook his head speechlessly, and sat back in front of his control console holding his coffee cup, too lazy to evaluate his crude table manners.
After eating and drinking his fill of this meal, Arthur's attention finally began to wander around the workshop, eventually landing not far away on Dr. Yinsen, who hadn't even raised his head from beginning to end. This slightly gray-haired physicist, wearing a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose, was intently staring at the dim blue holographic screen floating in mid-air in front of him. His fingers slid and clicked rapidly in the air, and strings of complex data and armor structural diagrams were constantly enlarged, shrunk, and reassembled on the screen. His level of fanatical devotion to the armor was not even slightly inferior to Tony, the original creator.
Arthur strolled over after eating his fill, folded his hands across his chest, looking at those dazzling three-dimensional structural diagrams, and suddenly asked curiously: "Hey, Tony, Dr. Yinsen, seeing you guys bustling with such activity, what number has your Mark series iron can actually evolved to by now?"
Before Tony, sitting aside holding his coffee cup, could open his mouth to show off, Dr. Yinsen standing in front of the screen instantly became like a proud parent who heard someone ask about their child's report card upon hearing this sentence. He abruptly stopped the work in his hand and turned his head to look at Arthur. Subsequently, Dr. Yinsen swipe-slashed his palm fiercely through mid-air with extreme familiarity and a hint of show-off intent.
"Whoosh —"
That huge virtual holographic screen directly panned along the sliding trajectory in front of Arthur, completely reflecting those blue lights into his pupils. It clearly displayed the detailed historical archives of the armor modifications.
Arthur leaned in a bit closer, his gaze glancing down slightly along the markers on the screen.
In the first archive was impressively the record of the initial first-generation mecha, which was the prototype silver armor they made in the underground garage of Stark Tower. The record list densely listed countless parts fatigue data and redundant power feedback. Because everything was in the exploratory stage, many designs appeared redundant and crude. Arthur wasn't very interested in this primitive version, and merely gave it a perfunctory glance before skipping past it.
Continuing down, there was the model marked as Generation 2 Version 1. This virtual model looked much bulkier than the one Tony was currently using. From the annotations on the side, it could be seen that this was the one from when they confronted Iron Monger on the street last time. This version of the armor used more advanced, yet thicker and tougher bulletproof and blast-proof materials. Arthur noticed that the shoulders, arms, and even beneath the chest of the armor had been insanely augmented with a large number of heavy thermal weapon ports, from micro armor-piercing missiles to high-explosive Gatling guns; it was simply a mobile firepower hedgehog. However, there was a bright red cross next to it. Obviously, because mobility was severely sacrificed, it was ruthlessly passed over directly by Tony, who pursued flexible air supremacy.
Further down was the latest progress model of the second version currently occupying the dominant position on the screen. Arthur looked closely, and the appearance of this version had returned to streamlined elegance and form-fitting. Compared to the previous failed version, this model cleanly and neatly eliminated ninety percent of those bulky thermal weapons that looked intimidating but severely affected the aerodynamic layout. The positions where artillery was originally mounted were cleverly replaced with purely tactical functional weaponry — for example, large-area smoke bombs loaded in high-pressure chambers, super magnesium flashbangs that could instantly blind enemies, and lightweight yet highly disruptive auxiliary ammunition such as white phosphorus incendiary bombs used to destroy obstacles. As for lethality, since the load of gunpowder live ammunition was completely abandoned, the armor's main energy system was reallocated. Arthur could clearly see on the simulation data that the energy output intensity of the repulsors and the unibeam on the chest had been forcibly raised by a tier. Obviously, this was a correct energetic transformation made after finding that live ammunition couldn't pierce thick armor.
"Finished reading?"
Just as Arthur had just digested these modification records into his brain, Dr. Yinsen, who had been observing his reaction with arms crossed to the side, pushed the glasses on the bridge of his nose and suddenly spoke. He casually pointed at the exquisite auxiliary weapon mounting points and the re-laid energy circuit loops on the screen, and said in an extremely disgusted tone: "The changes you saw above, which ones should be discarded and which ones should be strengthened, were all thought up and added in bit by bit by me after pulling a few all-nighters."
Speaking of this, Dr. Yinsen unscrupulously rolled his eyes to the heavens right in front of Arthur at Tony, who was sitting in the back drinking coffee, his tone full of condemnation for the capitalist style: "This guy Tony, nowadays he's basically like a completely hands-off boss! Every time I am only responsible for making the blueprints, he is responsible for nodding in approval, and then letting the machines do it. This life is really getting impossible to live."
Although Dr. Yinsen was muttering and complaining like this, his face full of "I am speechless and tired", Arthur, relying on his keen observation skills, saw right through the old man's disguise at a glance — when he talked about those functions designed by himself personally, the pure, scholarly fanatical light shining in his eyes simply couldn't be hidden, and the look in his eyes when he gazed at the armor was even gentler than looking at a first love.
Arthur was crystal clear in his heart: for a physicist who spent his life pursuing knowledge and creation, being able to conduct research in an unrestricted environment like Stark Industries — where there was money when he wanted money, top-tier materials when he wanted them, and super AI assistance when he needed it — without ever having to worry about a terrorist's gun barrel pressing against the back of his head at any moment, this kind of uninhibited, wildly imaginative splashing of inspiration was clearly his ultimate pursuit that could make him laugh awake in his dreams.
Arthur looked at Dr. Yinsen, who was complaining while enjoying himself and turning back to continue typing on the virtual keyboard, and then glanced at Tony, who was sitting in the back shrugging indifferently. This kind of daily bickering and casual chatting about sci-tech R&D that only happened when there was no need to deal with World-ending crises made him feel a long-lost sense of relaxation.
He made up his mind that once Tony finished the sip of coffee in his hand, he would officially ask him to help contact that hard-to-find Egghead director.