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Pietro's face was ashen. He was somewhat afraid of this bloody battlefield and found it truly difficult to adapt. When he stepped on a corpse, he finally threw up, completely letting go, not caring about admitting defeat or abandoning his pride and arrogance.
Tony's face was radiant with joy, his dark face practically blooming with satisfaction, as if he was just shy of carving "I'm still the one and only, the best in the world" onto it.
He, the great Tony, had directly defeated a Speedster!
"From now on, you're with me. Honestly, why did you have to pick a fight with me, overestimating your own abilities?" Tony walked over with difficulty, dragging his tattered, beggar-like clothes, comforting his newly acquired henchman... Hmm, that seemed to fit the description.
The arrogant young Pietro was naturally unconvinced. He angrily lifted his head, wanting to curse Tony, that shameless bastard, but when he saw Tony's face, not only was it dark and mottled, but half his hair was burnt off, even his eyebrows were gone, a truly fitting sight. Not to mention the scent of roasted meat wafting from him...
Pietro retched again.
Tony was furious: "What's the meaning of this? You throw up just from looking at me? That's going too far! I'm clearly not bad-looking!"
Pietro felt like he was going to throw up even his bile.
Tony's face was cold as he mumbled a few words. He directly lifted Pietro, the 'rookie master', and tossed him into Optimus Prime, who had transformed back into a truck, firmly pinning him in the passenger seat. He then yelled at the terrified Man in Glasses: "Get yourself into the truck bed!"
He then looked at the unconscious Driver and found that he had already been killed by stray bullets.
It was only after sitting in the driver's seat that Tony had a chance to check his own injuries, his mouth tasting bitter.
His entire set of armor was trashed, but that was a minor issue. He could mass-produce a bunch with the Allspark. A few Mini-bots saved far more Allspark Energy than a large guy like Optimus Prime.
But it was his body that was severely injured. Despite most of the bombardment at that level being nullified by his armor and the Allspark Energy he unreservedly expended, it was impossible to emerge completely unscathed. He had multiple contusions all over his body, large patches of necrotic skin revealing the flesh beneath. The worst was his thigh, where a chunk of flesh was missing; Tony felt like he could almost see the bone.
Tony cursed a few times, enduring the pain, but didn't take it too seriously. At his recovery rate, these injuries would likely be almost healed by tomorrow morning; worst case, they'd be dealt with by the day after.
At least the bleeding had mostly stopped by now.
Tony drove, rushing home to New York. He couldn't delay any longer; who knew what other tricks the Vampire Faction had up their sleeve.
Feeling groggy, Pietro slowly recovered. He looked around warily and asked Tony, "Where are you taking me?"
"To my home! No... first, to the barbershop!"
Pietro instinctively glanced at Tony's head and nearly threw up again.
It was completely scorched, a horrific sight. Anyone who didn't know better would think Tony had just emerged from a crematorium, half-burnt and reanimated in broad daylight.
Tony's mouth twitched violently. He sternly warned Quicksilver that if he dared to throw up again after seeing him, he would immediately blow up the car and take them both down with it.
The Man in Glasses reacted most violently, shouting and yelling that he would rather jump out of the car and die from the fall than be blown up; a death should at least be dignified. He was promptly knocked out by a Vibranium brick Tony threw.
This Vibranium brick was used by him with divine skill, sweeping all before it.
Pietro snorted coldly, cursing him as a lunatic, and almost turned to leave. He was genuinely rattled; the guy sitting next to him was practically a hysterical madman, one of those legendary people who would even hit themselves when they went crazy.
That old geezer Magneto was abnormal, and the person that old geezer recommended was also abnormal.
“I'm warning you, I'm here to cover for you, don't even think about getting all loud and rowdy with me, or I'll just leave if you piss me off.” Pietro felt very awkward; he thought saying such things truly diminished his prestige. When had Quicksilver ever said something so disheartening? Every other time, he'd beaten people to a pulp, making them howl like wolves and wail like ghosts, without them even knowing who hit them.
Tony snorted coldly, too lazy to reply. Once you're through my door, you think you can still run? Who gave you that chance? A Speedster hitman delivering himself right to my doorstep, do you really think I'm stupid enough not to take advantage of it? Where else would I find such a good deal?
The two remained silent, maintaining an eerie calm, speeding along the road. They drew curses from those they occasionally overtook, and even the police started to give chase. But for some unknown reason, they quickly stopped pursuing. Tony guessed they had received orders from their superiors, prohibiting them from further contact with him.
Pietro was impatient. He endured for a long time, but finally couldn't hold back, tentatively asking, "Are you very familiar with that old geezer?"
Tony shot him a sideways glance, too lazy to pay him any mind.
Pietro suppressed his impatience, asking Tony a series of questions, wanting to dig out more information. But Tony kept his mouth tightly shut, appearing too lazy to bother with him.
Deep down, however, Tony's mind became active. He had picked up on a few things.
Magneto, Erik, seemed to have not yet formally acknowledged his long-lost children; he was merely training them like a hawk trainer.
So his previous ramblings about Pietro being Old Man Magneto's kid now seemed rather abrupt and thought-provoking. No wonder Pietro couldn't help but ask; anyone in his shoes would be anxious.
Pietro was indeed very anxious. He yearned for the answer, yet also feared knowing it. This even surprised him; hadn't he vehemently hated that old geezer? Why was he so concerned about such a minor issue? That old geezer clearly refused to acknowledge him and his sister, so why would he tell an outsider such a thing without reservation?
Tony drove to a large hair salon, where a salon gathering was coincidentally taking place. Over a dozen renowned hairstylists in the industry were chatting amongst themselves, the atmosphere relaxed and lively. Some stylists even called in customers to conduct live hair-sculpting experiments, everyone getting along harmoniously.
That was until Tony, who looked like a reanimated corpse, burst in. The hairstylists wielding their scissors dropped their tools in shock. Everyone exclaimed in wonder, "Whose deranged genius hairstylist's concept is this hairstyle?"
"I, Tony, haircut. Make it quick, and it must be beautiful," Tony said.
Numerous hairstylists swarmed him. Some recognized Tony's identity, gasping in surprise and becoming even more enthusiastic.
Tony enjoyed immense popularity in New York City. This Mutant, who had undergone an Awakening during the crisis, had saved countless lives. Even Tony himself didn't realize how popular he actually was with some people.
New Yorkers, in a rare display, didn't reject him because of his Mutant identity, just as they all deeply liked Spider-Man, who swung around all day—many people still thought Spider-Man was also a Mutant. In the eyes of New Yorkers, Spider-Man was a goofy and cheerful character; people commuting daily could see Spider-Man swinging between skyscrapers, shooting webs. Sometimes, people frustrated by waiting for a bus would simply call Spider-Man down to chat and pass the time.
Spider-Man was a young man, as many New Yorkers who interacted with him knew. He was roughly in his early teens, with a hoarse voice, likely still in the midst of puberty. He was lively, funny, always seemed to cause a bit of trouble, drawing cheerful laughter from passersby and dispelling the day's fatigue.
People generally rejected the Mutant Community, but few went out of their way to reject Spider-Man. The only exception was Jameson, the Boss of the Daily Bugle, a professional hater for thirty years. Wherever Spider-Man appeared, he would bring a mob of Daily Bugle trolls to chase after him.
Spider-Man truly lived up to his reputation as New York's friendly neighborhood hero.
But Tony now seemed to be showing a similar tendency. While many people cursed him, even more supported him. The vast majority of New Yorkers maintained a neutral stance on Tony; they were temporarily refraining from commenting on this Mutant who had indirectly saved countless lives.
Many of those indirectly saved by Tony that night were his die-hard fans, passionately adoring everything about him.
Inside the barbershop, one hairstylist was very nervous. He trembled as he asked Tony, "Can I take a photo of you?"
Without waiting for Tony's objection, he pulled out his phone and snapped a photo, then immediately uploaded it to Twitter with the caption: "Tony's new look! He's championing beggars and homeless people, responding to the city government's call for poverty alleviation."
In the photo, Tony was covered in dust and grime, his clothes ragged, with one tear after another. Fortunately, Tony had deliberately covered some of his wounds before coming in, but his image was still profoundly shocking. Especially that divine hairstyle, half-burnt...
Instantly, the tweet exploded!
Countless netizens went wild, re-sharing it en masse. In a very short time, it became a sensation across the entire internet!
(end of chapter)
Tony's face was radiant with joy, his dark face practically blooming with satisfaction, as if he was just shy of carving "I'm still the one and only, the best in the world" onto it.
He, the great Tony, had directly defeated a Speedster!
"From now on, you're with me. Honestly, why did you have to pick a fight with me, overestimating your own abilities?" Tony walked over with difficulty, dragging his tattered, beggar-like clothes, comforting his newly acquired henchman... Hmm, that seemed to fit the description.
The arrogant young Pietro was naturally unconvinced. He angrily lifted his head, wanting to curse Tony, that shameless bastard, but when he saw Tony's face, not only was it dark and mottled, but half his hair was burnt off, even his eyebrows were gone, a truly fitting sight. Not to mention the scent of roasted meat wafting from him...
Pietro retched again.
Tony was furious: "What's the meaning of this? You throw up just from looking at me? That's going too far! I'm clearly not bad-looking!"
Pietro felt like he was going to throw up even his bile.
Tony's face was cold as he mumbled a few words. He directly lifted Pietro, the 'rookie master', and tossed him into Optimus Prime, who had transformed back into a truck, firmly pinning him in the passenger seat. He then yelled at the terrified Man in Glasses: "Get yourself into the truck bed!"
He then looked at the unconscious Driver and found that he had already been killed by stray bullets.
It was only after sitting in the driver's seat that Tony had a chance to check his own injuries, his mouth tasting bitter.
His entire set of armor was trashed, but that was a minor issue. He could mass-produce a bunch with the Allspark. A few Mini-bots saved far more Allspark Energy than a large guy like Optimus Prime.
But it was his body that was severely injured. Despite most of the bombardment at that level being nullified by his armor and the Allspark Energy he unreservedly expended, it was impossible to emerge completely unscathed. He had multiple contusions all over his body, large patches of necrotic skin revealing the flesh beneath. The worst was his thigh, where a chunk of flesh was missing; Tony felt like he could almost see the bone.
Tony cursed a few times, enduring the pain, but didn't take it too seriously. At his recovery rate, these injuries would likely be almost healed by tomorrow morning; worst case, they'd be dealt with by the day after.
At least the bleeding had mostly stopped by now.
Tony drove, rushing home to New York. He couldn't delay any longer; who knew what other tricks the Vampire Faction had up their sleeve.
Feeling groggy, Pietro slowly recovered. He looked around warily and asked Tony, "Where are you taking me?"
"To my home! No... first, to the barbershop!"
Pietro instinctively glanced at Tony's head and nearly threw up again.
It was completely scorched, a horrific sight. Anyone who didn't know better would think Tony had just emerged from a crematorium, half-burnt and reanimated in broad daylight.
Tony's mouth twitched violently. He sternly warned Quicksilver that if he dared to throw up again after seeing him, he would immediately blow up the car and take them both down with it.
The Man in Glasses reacted most violently, shouting and yelling that he would rather jump out of the car and die from the fall than be blown up; a death should at least be dignified. He was promptly knocked out by a Vibranium brick Tony threw.
This Vibranium brick was used by him with divine skill, sweeping all before it.
Pietro snorted coldly, cursing him as a lunatic, and almost turned to leave. He was genuinely rattled; the guy sitting next to him was practically a hysterical madman, one of those legendary people who would even hit themselves when they went crazy.
That old geezer Magneto was abnormal, and the person that old geezer recommended was also abnormal.
“I'm warning you, I'm here to cover for you, don't even think about getting all loud and rowdy with me, or I'll just leave if you piss me off.” Pietro felt very awkward; he thought saying such things truly diminished his prestige. When had Quicksilver ever said something so disheartening? Every other time, he'd beaten people to a pulp, making them howl like wolves and wail like ghosts, without them even knowing who hit them.
Tony snorted coldly, too lazy to reply. Once you're through my door, you think you can still run? Who gave you that chance? A Speedster hitman delivering himself right to my doorstep, do you really think I'm stupid enough not to take advantage of it? Where else would I find such a good deal?
The two remained silent, maintaining an eerie calm, speeding along the road. They drew curses from those they occasionally overtook, and even the police started to give chase. But for some unknown reason, they quickly stopped pursuing. Tony guessed they had received orders from their superiors, prohibiting them from further contact with him.
Pietro was impatient. He endured for a long time, but finally couldn't hold back, tentatively asking, "Are you very familiar with that old geezer?"
Tony shot him a sideways glance, too lazy to pay him any mind.
Pietro suppressed his impatience, asking Tony a series of questions, wanting to dig out more information. But Tony kept his mouth tightly shut, appearing too lazy to bother with him.
Deep down, however, Tony's mind became active. He had picked up on a few things.
Magneto, Erik, seemed to have not yet formally acknowledged his long-lost children; he was merely training them like a hawk trainer.
So his previous ramblings about Pietro being Old Man Magneto's kid now seemed rather abrupt and thought-provoking. No wonder Pietro couldn't help but ask; anyone in his shoes would be anxious.
Pietro was indeed very anxious. He yearned for the answer, yet also feared knowing it. This even surprised him; hadn't he vehemently hated that old geezer? Why was he so concerned about such a minor issue? That old geezer clearly refused to acknowledge him and his sister, so why would he tell an outsider such a thing without reservation?
Tony drove to a large hair salon, where a salon gathering was coincidentally taking place. Over a dozen renowned hairstylists in the industry were chatting amongst themselves, the atmosphere relaxed and lively. Some stylists even called in customers to conduct live hair-sculpting experiments, everyone getting along harmoniously.
That was until Tony, who looked like a reanimated corpse, burst in. The hairstylists wielding their scissors dropped their tools in shock. Everyone exclaimed in wonder, "Whose deranged genius hairstylist's concept is this hairstyle?"
"I, Tony, haircut. Make it quick, and it must be beautiful," Tony said.
Numerous hairstylists swarmed him. Some recognized Tony's identity, gasping in surprise and becoming even more enthusiastic.
Tony enjoyed immense popularity in New York City. This Mutant, who had undergone an Awakening during the crisis, had saved countless lives. Even Tony himself didn't realize how popular he actually was with some people.
New Yorkers, in a rare display, didn't reject him because of his Mutant identity, just as they all deeply liked Spider-Man, who swung around all day—many people still thought Spider-Man was also a Mutant. In the eyes of New Yorkers, Spider-Man was a goofy and cheerful character; people commuting daily could see Spider-Man swinging between skyscrapers, shooting webs. Sometimes, people frustrated by waiting for a bus would simply call Spider-Man down to chat and pass the time.
Spider-Man was a young man, as many New Yorkers who interacted with him knew. He was roughly in his early teens, with a hoarse voice, likely still in the midst of puberty. He was lively, funny, always seemed to cause a bit of trouble, drawing cheerful laughter from passersby and dispelling the day's fatigue.
People generally rejected the Mutant Community, but few went out of their way to reject Spider-Man. The only exception was Jameson, the Boss of the Daily Bugle, a professional hater for thirty years. Wherever Spider-Man appeared, he would bring a mob of Daily Bugle trolls to chase after him.
Spider-Man truly lived up to his reputation as New York's friendly neighborhood hero.
But Tony now seemed to be showing a similar tendency. While many people cursed him, even more supported him. The vast majority of New Yorkers maintained a neutral stance on Tony; they were temporarily refraining from commenting on this Mutant who had indirectly saved countless lives.
Many of those indirectly saved by Tony that night were his die-hard fans, passionately adoring everything about him.
Inside the barbershop, one hairstylist was very nervous. He trembled as he asked Tony, "Can I take a photo of you?"
Without waiting for Tony's objection, he pulled out his phone and snapped a photo, then immediately uploaded it to Twitter with the caption: "Tony's new look! He's championing beggars and homeless people, responding to the city government's call for poverty alleviation."
In the photo, Tony was covered in dust and grime, his clothes ragged, with one tear after another. Fortunately, Tony had deliberately covered some of his wounds before coming in, but his image was still profoundly shocking. Especially that divine hairstyle, half-burnt...
Instantly, the tweet exploded!
Countless netizens went wild, re-sharing it en masse. In a very short time, it became a sensation across the entire internet!
(end of chapter)
