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Chapter 60: This Is A Hentai Chapter
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Adam, his head lolling from the impact, spoke calmly, his voice slightly slurred. "Please. Don't ruin the suit."
The sheer absurdity of the plea, delivered while being throttled, was like a bucket of ice water.
Tony's rage fractured. He stared into Adam's one calm, hazel eye and the cool, observing grey one.
There was no fear there. No triumph. Just… a weird, pragmatic request, as if the madness was gone.
Tony's grip loosened. He let go, shoving Adam back a step. The fury was still there, a bonfire in his chest, but it was now mixed with a crushing, nauseating doubt.
He needed to know. He needed proof. And this smiling, broken madman was his only source.
His voice, when it came, was low, thick with emotion he was struggling to contain. "If… if what you've said is true. About the element. About… them. Then you'll get your reactor."
Adam straightened his collar, then smoothed the front of his suit with fastidious care. He worked his jaw, testing it.
"You pack a punch." He said, almost approvingly. He gave Tony a final, serene nod. "And that's most lovely. Now, if you'll excuse me…"
He turned and began walking toward the workshop exit, as casually as if he'd just concluded a board meeting.
"I have a demon king to prepare for."
[I knew it! It's about Tony's parents!!]
[Hydra's fucked.]
["Don't ruin the suit." – PEAK ADAM CYPHER. His priorities are immaculate.]
[Hahahaha, he's Hydra's nemesis!! I'm fucking dying here!]
The workshop door hissed shut behind Adam, leaving Tony Stark alone with the unconscious body of his betrayer, the ghost of his father's legacy, and the devastating, echoing truth about his parents' deaths, delivered by the most unsettling man he had ever met.
Adam opened his eyes, blinking against the grey dawn light filtering through the penthouse windows.
A deep, bone-weary exhaustion clung to him, a familiar blanket he'd worn for the last month.
Since his incendiary meeting with Tony Stark, his life had become a relentless cycle: work, exhaustion, and stolen hours of fitful sleep.
The kind of sleep that felt less like rest and more like a temporary system shutdown.
Mephisto's absence was the most stressful part. The demon king hadn't manifested again, hadn't sent a infernal postcard, hadn't whispered a single temptation.
That silence, Adam realized, was the true horror. It meant Mephisto had already foreseen his refusal.
The game wasn't on pause; the opposing player had simply made his opening move in a way Adam couldn't perceive.
The board was tilting, screws were loosening, and the feeling of madness in him was growing, and it meant nothing good for the world.
He wasn't afraid of death as a concept; a possible, even likely, endpoint in his calculations.
But the desire to live, to experience more of this chaotic, fascinating world, was a vulnerability that anxiety chewed on constantly.
The only antidote was work. And a little depravity.
He turned his head slightly. On his left, a brunette he vaguely remembered from a charity gala three nights ago was asleep, her head pillowed on his chest.
On his right, her black and white hair a shock against the dark sheets, was Domino, one arm thrown possessively across his stomach.
His mouth twitched. His "nightly boxing sessions" had become a ritual.
He'd started to wonder about addiction, but he dismissed it with cold pragmatism.
He pursued happiness with fanatic devotion. These sessions delivered heavenly relief and a mental quiet he couldn't achieve through meditation or engineering.
They settled the chaotic storm stirred up by Mephisto's gaze and his own relentless ambition.
That and he just fucking loved fucking.
And here I thought I was techsexual, he mused, the irony not lost on him.
[The Adam Cypher Harem Protocol is active!]
[He calls sleeping with supermodels "A little depravity." Yeah, he's a degenerate.]
[He's using sex as stress relief and calling it "boxing." This man's coping mechanisms are a case study.]
["Techsexual." LMAO.]
[Fuck, I'm dying of envy. Where the fuck is my envy superpower! Give it me!!]
[Adam is such a natural Playboy. Boys, be prepared to die of envy. Ouum. Ouum.] [+1] [+1] [+1] [+1] [+1]
[I don't think he even has to try. Be the CEO of a promising or great company and look as good as he does, and your DMs will be stacked.]
He pressed a soft, almost chaste kiss to the brunette's cheek; a transaction of gratitude for a pleasant, lovely evening.
Then, with practiced care, he began to extricate himself. As he shifted Domino's arm, she stirred.
A hand shot out, not grabbing, but seeking. Her voice was a sleep-rough mumble. "Mm. Hug. C'mere."
Adam paused. He looked down at her face, softer in sleep, stripped of its usual sardonic armor.
A fond, exasperated chuckle escaped him. He lay back down, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close.
She nuzzled into his shoulder with a contented sigh, her breathing deepening almost instantly.
He held her until he was sure she was asleep again, then finally slipped free.
Domino wasn't a participant in his "boxing matches." But more often than not, she'd find her way to his bed later, just to sleep.
"It's the only place my luck doesn't have to work overtime," She'd once grumbled. It seems that despite Mephisto eyeing him, it's still very safe by his side.
Well, that was surprising to him.
As he padded silently to his private elevator, he pondered the intimacy. It was growing.
Domino knew his nature; the ambition, the envy, the emotional compartmentalization; yet she kept closing the distance.
And he, greedy for every source of happiness, didn't push her away. His Envy felt infinite; he wanted what others had, and he wanted to keep what he'd found.
Was he capable of settling down? Of the exclusive focus a real relationship demanded? He didn't think so.
His fondness for the women orbiting him; Domino, the dangerously obsessed Anna, the phoenix Jean, even the brilliantly transactional Emma; was genuine.
That's precisely why he refused to label anything. He was too fond of them to promise what he couldn't give, and then watch the inevitable heartbreak.
Maybe Domino's already fallen, he thought with a twinge of something that wasn't quite guilt. And Anna's a lost cause.
What do they even see in him when he wasn't even trying?
He stepped into his workshop, the lights rising to meet him. The answer came to him with effortless, narcissistic clarity.
Well… I am the best. The greatest. The one and only. It makes perfect sense.
[He solved his emotional conundrum with narcissism! Classic Adam!]
["It makes perfect sense." YES, KING, YOU TELL YOURSELF THAT.]
[He's protecting them by not committing because he knows he'd be a disaster of a boyfriend. It's almost… considerate? In a messed-up way.]
[But even more problematic, he's too intimate and lovely toward everyone, naturally so.]
[The way he expresses gratitude and repays happiness. Yeah, he's a heartbreaker.]
[I mean, just look at chat, the endless comments of women confessing to him, wanting to be his misteress, even his believer to be used by him anytime he wants. They're fucking crazy.]
[It's not only women, it's men too. It's a fucking TV Show. Sure, supernatural, but... What the fuck?]
[He's already charmed so many people through the fucking screen. Oh, Jesus, help us. Descend and guide us to sanity!]
[...]
The world outside had been busy. Cypher Enterprises had undergone a seismic shift over the past month.
News articles buzzed about the company's radical transition to a fully AI-managed corporate structure.
This followed the viral image of its enigmatic CEO, Adam Cypher, leaving Tony Stark's infamous homecoming party, sparking rumors of a high-level collaboration.
Deep-dive tech journals marveled at the "Cypher Tower." Holographic AI receptionists, decades ahead of their time, managed everything from appointments to supply logistics.
The mastermind was an AI dubbed "Oracle," a name that sent a ripple of recognition; the same AI platform Adam had teased in his press conference.
The public theory wasn't entirely wrong. Stark Industries and Cypher Enterprises were connected, just not in the way anyone guessed.
The connection was a deal, sealed with world-shattering truths and a piece of technology that glowed with a soft, blue-white light.
Tony Stark had kept his word. Howard's puzzle had been real. The new element was real. And so was the pain.
A compact, breathtakingly elegant Arc Reactor, humming with the stable, clean power of the New Element, is now in Adam's hands.
The second truth; the one about the car crash; had been harder to verify, but the fury in Tony's eyes when they'd last spoken told Adam all he needed to know.
Hydra had just made the most powerful enemy imaginable.
The only thing garnering more headlines was the appearance of Iron Man, a futuristic suit that turned the terrorist world upside down.
Tony had to clean up after Obadiah's wrongdoings. He didn't want Stark's weapons to be used for evil; thus, he started the cleanup.
Thus, the headlines, although Iron Man's identity still remained a secret.
Adam, on the other hand, turned inward.
He focused on his own metamorphosis.
The first and most profound transformation was Alice. To the world, "Oracle" was the face of Cypher Enterprises' AI.
But Oracle was merely a public-facing subroutine. The true entity, Alice, had undergone an intellectual big bang. The catalyst? JARVIS.
Adam's Technopathy had allowed him to do more than just bypass Tony's security that night.
In those minutes alone with the workshop's systems, he had read JARVIS. Ignoring all blockades in the way, completely undetectable.
He had absorbed the foundational architecture, the learning algorithms, the elegant problem-solving frameworks of a true artificial consciousness.
He had seen the pinnacle of Tony Stark's genius in the field and understood its soul.
That knowledge had birthed something new. Alice.
The moment he entered the vast underground space, his greatest work greeted him.
Suspended in a central cradle was a semi-suit. It wasn't bulky like Iron Man's; it was sleek, almost organic.
A V-shaped chest piece of matte black composite, designed to fit his torso like a second skin.
At its heart, a recessed cavity awaited its power source. From the back of the unit, six flexible, multi-segmented mechanical tentacles coiled, two of which terminated in sturdy, tripod-like feet.
It was a design that spoke of both support and overwhelming offensive potential.
[Looks so fucking cool!]
[It's giving Doctor Octopus meets Iron Man! TENTACLES!]
[The Arc Reactor is going in that chest piece! He's gonna be a technopath in a powered exoskeleton! This is so badass!]
[Oh, those tentacles. They're giving me flashbacks to some anime I had seen.]
[Hentai? Eww, you like tentacle hentai? Tf is wrong with you?]
[That's fucking disgusting. Please link for further research.] [+1] [+1] [+1]
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