Kara’s phone vibrated; it was Jameson.
His voice was even more excited than usual, almost bursting through the earpiece: “Danvers!
You were at the scene, weren’t you?!
What was that just now?!
That blue figure!
How did the bomb fly into the sky?!
And the battle between Iron Man and that whip freak!
I want all the details!
Every angle!
Now!
Immediately!
This is big news that could go down in journalism history!” Kara took a deep breath, her tone returning to its usual calm professionalism: “Chief, I’m organizing the material.
The scene is very chaotic, and many details still need to be verified.
However, it’s certain that Mr.
Stark used a Portable Suit to subdue the attacker.
As for the high-altitude explosion…
current reports lean toward the belief that ‘Supergirl’ appeared to prevent the disaster.” She skillfully gave the response expected of an excellent reporter.
Hanging up the phone, Kara knew that speculation and discussion about “Supergirl” would soon sweep through public opinion again as eyewitness accounts and blurry images circulated…
A private medical center in Monaco— Tony lay in a high-end intensive care unit, connected to various monitoring instruments.
His external injuries had been treated and were no longer a major concern, but the internal shock and blood loss still required time to recover.
The most troublesome issue remained the glaring “53%” Palladium Toxin reading on the blood analyzer—it had even climbed slightly due to the intense combat and injuries.
Pepper sat by the bed, holding his hand that wasn’t connected to an IV.
Her eyes were red and swollen, but her emotions were barely stable.
Happy stood guard outside the door like a guardian deity.
“You almost died again, Tony,” Pepper said softly, her voice trembling with the relief of a survivor and a hint of reproach.
“But I didn’t die.” Tony tried to force a smile, but it pulled at his wounds, making him grimace in pain.
“Thanks to you, Pepper.
And Happy, and…
Kara.” He paused, his gaze turning serious.
“That madman with the whips…
I want to see him.” A few days later, on a flight back to New York— Kara sat by the window.
On her laptop screen was the final draft of the report on the “Monaco Circuit Attack.” She deliberately focused on Tony Stark’s personal battle, Pepper Potts’s decisive actions, and the impact of the incident on international event security and superhuman issues.
Regarding “Supergirl,” she used vague and cautious wording like “an unsolved mystery still awaiting further investigation.” Outside the window, a sea of clouds surged under the sunlight.
Kara closed her laptop and looked out at the deep blue beyond the porthole.
Balance—this would be a subject she must study in the future.
Between her identity as a reporter and her extraordinary abilities, between a normal life and the responsibility to help, between hiding secrets and taking necessary action.
The plane began its descent, and the familiar silhouette of New York unfolded below her.
Kara understood that once they returned to New York, Jameson would pursue clues about “Supergirl” like a shark scenting blood; S.H.I.E.L.D.’s gaze would inevitably focus even more intently; Tony would have to face his life-and-death crisis and a pile of messes; and she herself had to figure out what kind of posture she should adopt to exist in this increasingly complex World.
When the next crisis arrived and forced her to choose between identities, she didn’t know which side she would take.
A few days after the Monaco incident, in the lower-level workshop of the Malibu beach Villa— The eerie blue light of the holographic projection cast a sickly hue over Tony Stark’s pale face.
He sat alone in the driver’s seat of an antique car, the whiskey in his crystal glass swaying slightly.
The amber liquid reflected the deep shadows under his eyes and the increasingly hideous black veins spreading around his neck.
No experiments, no complex molecular model calculations—Jarvis’s latest comprehensive simulation of known element combinations had been declared a total failure the previous night.
Blood toxin level: 80%.
This number pierced his forced composure like an icicle.
The desperate counterattack in Monaco had temporarily dispersed the shadows of death, but the price was an accelerated erosion of the toxin.
The increasingly clear sense of failure and dull pain from within his body reminded him at every moment: the hourglass of time was about to run out.
“Sir, Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes has arrived and has been cleared to enter the living room,” Jarvis’s voice sounded calmly.
Tony didn’t look back, draining the glass in one gulp.
A burning sensation spread from his throat to his chest, bringing a brief moment of warmth.
Rhodes walked in wearing his crisp Military uniform, his face a mix of concern and seriousness.
He glanced at the empty glass in Tony’s hand, his brow furrowed.
“Tony.” “Rhodes, if you’re here to persuade me to ‘consider the Military’s proposal,’ you can turn around and leave now.” Tony’s voice was hoarse, carrying its usual sharpness but lacking confidence.
Rhodes walked to his side, remained silent for a moment, and looked out the window.
“I’ve read all the reports from Monaco.
That man named Vanko…
claims your father stole something from his father.” “The ramblings of a madman.” Tony scoffed, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the rim of the glass.
“My father was Howard Stark.
Would he need to’steal’ anything from anyone?” “But his technology, those energy whips…
they have similarities to your reactor.” Rhodes turned to face him directly.
“Tony, this isn’t an isolated incident.
The Senate, Hammer, and now this Ivan Vanko who appeared out of nowhere…
pressure is coming from all sides.
There’s absolutely no need for you to save the World alone.
You don’t have to fight this battle by yourself.” Tony suddenly began to cough violently.
Rhodes stepped forward to check on him but was waved away by Tony.
“Get out, Rhodes.” He panted, his back to his friend.
“Leave me alone.” Rhodes looked at his slightly trembling back and finally sighed.
“Call me anytime.” He turned and left.
Silence returned to the living room, leaving only the sound of Tony’s suppressed breathing.
He walked to the workbench, his gaze blankly sweeping over scattered element samples and failed blueprints.
Suddenly, he violently swept his arm— Crash!
Most of the items were swept to the floor, making a sharp, cluttered clatter.
A sense of powerlessness submerged him like a tide.
Technology, wisdom, wealth…
all seemed so pale and ridiculous in the face of life’s countdown.
For the first time, he truly felt that the door named “Life” seemed to be slowly closing before him.
Meanwhile, in Manhattan, at Kara’s home— Kara stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, holding a freshly printed document.
This wasn’t a report for the Daily Bugle, but a report she had carefully screened, integrated, and analyzed over the past few days from various encrypted databases, academic journals, and even gray-zone servers around the World using the special phone Tony had given her.
She was trying to cross-reference the application theories of Cold Fusion from the Kryptonian Knowledge Base with Earth’s elemental science.
After calming down, she ultimately couldn’t sit by and watch Tony die.
She even felt a faint sense of apology for her moment of hesitation in Monaco.
After all, Tony had always treated her as a friend and had even been willing to entrust her with the future of Iron Man’s technology not long ago.
The process of reasoning made her head throb.
These profound scientific theories were too difficult for her.
If not for the unique Super Brain of a Kryptonian, the incomprehensible symbols and formulas in the knowledge base alone would have been enough to drain her mental energy and send her into a coma.
Dressed in a nightgown, Kara sat on the edge of the bed and irritably tossed the draft papers filled with calculations into the air.
The papers fluttered down like snowflakes, burying her beneath them.
Ting— The phone rang.
Buried under the papers, Kara reached out to push the drafts off her face and dragged her groggy head out of bed.
Caught off guard, she was tripped by the blanket— Roll, roll.
She rolled onto the floor, her blonde hair becoming even messier.
Dazedly propping herself up with both hands, she crawled to the side of the chair and picked up the phone.
Tony’s voice came from the other end, carrying a deliberately crafted lightness: “Kara?
There’s a party in Malibu tonight.
I’d like to invite you to attend.” “Have you lost your mind, Tony?!
You’re dying!” Kara responded crossly.
She almost laughed in frustration—she was over here racking her brains over his toxin, and he actually had the mind to throw a party?!
There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by Tony’s forced, confident voice: “It’s fine, Kara.
I’ve been through so many crises; haven’t I survived them all?
You know, this isn’t even as dangerous as that time in the Afghan cave.
That time we…” “What’s your toxin level?” Kara interrupted him.
“Kara, you were flying in the sky back then.
You looked so cool…” Tony seemed not to hear her, excitedly reminiscing to himself.
“Tony!” Kara’s tone was serious.
The other end fell into silence again.
After a long time, a number came softly: “89%.” Kara also fell silent.
Perhaps this really was Tony Stark’s last party.
“…I’ll be there,” she said softly after a moment.
Hanging up the phone, Kara looked out at the deepening night.
She hadn’t expected the process of toxin erosion to have already reached the final mark.
Tonight might truly be the last time she sees Tony Stark.
It might not seem tempting right nobut who knows what the future holds?
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”