Tony had locked himself in the laboratory for three days.
When Pepper carried in a cup of coffee and pushed the door open, she almost choked on the flying fragments of parts and soldering tin smoke.
Metal plates and circuit boards were scattered all over the floor, and the originally spacious laboratory was piled up so much that there was no place to set foot.
Tony had a mess of hair, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was leaning over the workbench debugging an arc-shaped metal plate.
The electromagnet on his chest was connected to thick and long wires, emitting a faint cold light under the light.
“Mr.
Stark, you have worked continuously for seventy-two hours.” Pepper put the coffee beside his hand with a helpless tone, “Sleep for at least two hours, otherwise before the armor is built, you will exhaust yourself to death first.”
“It won’t.” Tony didn’t even raise his head, the screwdriver in his hand rapidly tightening screws, “The flight system of the mark ii is still lacking a final bit, I’ll sleep after debugging it.”
Pepper sighed, pulled a stack of reports from the folder and placed them beside him: “The accounts you asked me to check are organized. In the past half year, Obadiah has secretly transferred at least three batches of weapons through three offshore companies, their whereabouts unknown, and the handlers are all his confidants. Also, the signatory of the last batch of Jericho missile orders before you went missing in Afghanistan was also him.”
The movement in Tony’s hand stopped abruptly.
He raised his head, his usual flippancy gone from his face, and his gaze was chillingly cold: “It really is him.”
Actually, he had a guess in his heart for a long time.
How could the Ten Rings Gang intercept his convoy so precisely?
And how could they happen to have the missile blueprints designed by him?
Aside from someone leaking secrets internally, it simply doesn’t make sense.
It’s just that previously, out of regard for the sentiments left by Howard, he was unwilling to think of the worst.
Now that the evidence was placed before his eyes, that shred of sentiment was shattered completely.
“Keep investigating, the more detailed the better.” Tony picked up the reports and flipped through a few pages, his fingers gently tapping on the words ‘offshore company’, “Don’t alert the enemy, I want to see what on earth he wants to do.”
“I understand.” Pepper nodded, and couldn’t help urging again, “But you also have to take care of your health. Before Logan went on vacation, he told me to keep an eye on you and not let you torture yourself to death.”
Tony scoffed: “He still has the nerve to talk about me? What else can that guy do besides drinking, smoking, and walking the dog? He took a holiday and his shadow is nowhere to be found, not even a single phone call.”
Although his mouth showed extreme disdain, his heart inexplicably breathed a sigh of relief.
He was actually quite afraid of Logan getting involved.
That old fellow Obadiah was extremely shady; no matter how capable Logan was, he couldn’t withstand hidden arrows.
Letting that guy take a peaceful and steady vacation was also pretty good. This chapter is updated first at novelping.com.
Watching his insincere look, Pepper couldn’t help curling the corners of her mouth slightly, didn’t expose him, and turned around to leave the laboratory on tiptoe.
The laboratory returned to silence, leaving only the buzzing sound of the welding torch.
Tony stared at the armor parts in his hand, his gaze sinking bit by bit.
The pitch-black month in the cave, the fear of shrapnel wandering in his blood vessels, replayed in his mind over and over again.
He used to always feel that making weapons, making money, and carpe diem—this life would just be like this.
But from the moment he walked out of the cave, many things were already different.
He picked up the coffee and took a sip, the ice-cold liquid sliding down his throat, and he sobered up a bit.
His fingers gently stroked across the armor shell, the corners of his mouth curling into a cold smile.
Since Obadiah dared to do the first, don’t blame him for doing the fifteenth.
Meanwhile, Logan was lying on the lounge chair in his backyard sunbathing.
Ares was lying at his feet, his head resting on his paws, sleeping soundly with his belly rising and falling rhythmically.
On the small table next to him were whiskey, an ice bucket, and half a box of unfinished cigars.
The sunshine felt warm on his body, and Logan narrowed his eyes, almost falling asleep just like that.
Almost a week of the holiday had passed, and his daily schedule was walking the dog, fishing, having meals with Maggie, and occasionally going to the bar for a couple of drinks, living a carefree life like an immortal.
Those trivial matters of S.H.I.E.L.D., Obadiah, and the Mutant had long been cast by him to the nine heavens.
Just as he was dozing off, the doorbell suddenly rang.
Ares’s ears twitched, and he raised his head, barking twice alertly toward the door.
Logan lazily opened his eyes, feeling puzzled in his heart.
Who would come at this hour?
and Mrs.
John went out for a trip, could it be that that fellow Tony had a sudden pang of conscience and came to send him a bonus?
He shuffled over in slippers to open the door.
As soon as the door was pulled open, he raised an eyebrow.
Standing at the door was a woman in a well-tailored white suit, her platinum long hair meticulously coiled at the back of her head, with bright red lips and a cold, glamorous temperament like a piece of ice.
It was precisely the White Queen Emma Frost, one of Logan’s ex-girlfriends.
“Yo, what wind blew the White Queen here?” Logan leaned against the door frame, biting an unlit cigar, looking her up and down, “Not busy managing your company, why did you run to my little rundown place? Want to keep me as a kept man again?”
Emma rolled her eyes, didn’t banter with him, and directly turned sideways to squeeze in, her high heels making a crisp sound as they stepped on the floor.
She looked around the living room and frowned slightly: “Your place is indeed more decent than before. It seems the salary Stark gives you is indeed not low.”
“That’s for sure, after all, I traded my life for it.” Logan closed the door, pointed at the sofa, “Sit down, get whatever you want to drink, the whiskey is in the wine cabinet. Don’t tell me you came here specially to see me; I don’t believe it.”
Emma didn’t stand on ceremony either, walked to the wine cabinet to pour herself a glass of white wine, turned around and sat on the sofa, her legs crossed in an elegant posture.
She held the wine glass and swayed it gently, remained silent for a few seconds, then raised her eyes to look at Logan, her tone lacking its usual tit-for-tat and having a bit more gloom.
“The Red Devil came to find me.”
Logan’s hand, which was just about to light the cigar, paused for a second.
The Red Devil, Azazel.
An old-school Mutant of the Hellfire Club, whose ability was teleportation, appearing and disappearing unpredictably, and being ruthless.
Magneto had been dead for almost two years, why did he suddenly pop out to look for Emma?
“What did he want with you?” Logan lit the cigar, took a drag, and slowly exhaled the smoke, “Want to drag you to rebuild the Hellfire Club?”
“It’s more troublesome than that.” Emma took a sip of wine, her expression not looking very good, “He holds some old accounts of mine from back in the Hellfire Club in his hands, as well as some shady transactions of my company behind the scenes, and wants to blackmail me. Either give him a huge sum of money, or I have to follow his commands and do things for him.”
Logan raised an eyebrow.
This was actually a bit interesting.
That guy the Red Devil, with Magneto dead and the Brotherhood broken up, having lost his backing, actually started doing blackmail extortion.
Also, with his ability, doing petty thievery and extortion was simply too convenient.