"Please don't turn off the TV. It's his favorite show."
The nurse nodded, though she still lowered the volume slightly.
Tony stood up and asked, "How is he now?"
The nurse finished the last note in the medical chart before replying.
"Everything is stable for the moment. His external injuries aren't severe—the main issue is a concussion caused by the blast, which led to the coma. Once the brain scan results are out, our neurology specialists will personally take over."
Tony nodded. This hospital was owned by Stark Industries and staffed with the world's top experts. If even they couldn't help, then aside from the almost absurdly advanced Wakanda, there was nowhere else on Earth that could save Happy.
Outside the hospital, reporters had already gathered in force. They swarmed in at the slightest hint of news. A Stark Industries executive had been injured in an explosion—and Tony Stark himself had shown up. There was no way they would miss a story like this.
The moment Tony stepped outside, the reporters surged forward, surrounding him tightly.
"Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark!" one reporter shouted into her microphone.
"There are claims that this explosion was another terrorist attack carried out by the so-called Mandarin. Do you have any comment?"
Tony ignored them completely and continued walking, his expression cold and unreadable.
"Mr. Stark," the reporter pressed on when he didn't answer, "this man is a terrorist. As Iron Man, when do you plan to deal with him?"
This time, she directly invoked his identity as Iron Man.
Tony suddenly stopped and turned to look at her.
"That's what you want to ask?" he said.
The reporter nodded eagerly. She didn't care about casualties—only about headlines. The more explosive the news, the better.
Tony paused. As someone who had once dominated front pages across the world, he knew reporters like these all too well. They thrived on chaos.
"Then tell that so-called Mandarin this," Tony said flatly.
"I, Tony Stark, will find you, you coward, rip out your intestines, and wrap them around your neck. And if you want to come find me instead, even better. Remember my address—Malibu. I'll be waiting."
With that, he grabbed the camera from the reporter's hands and slammed it against the wall. It shattered instantly.
"Go to Stark Industries," Tony added coldly. "They'll compensate you."
Nanotech armor surged over his body, and in the next instant, Tony blasted into the sky and left the hospital behind.
---
Mid-flight, JARVIS spoke up.
"Sir, Mr. Norman is waiting for you in the living room."
The helmet display showed Carl sitting casually on Tony's sofa, munching on an apple while watching TV. On the screen was the very footage of Tony's furious statement outside the hospital.
By the time Tony got home, Carl had finished his apple.
"Not bad," Carl said cheerfully.
"Especially the part where you smashed the camera."
He tossed another apple to Tony.
Tony had no appetite, but he still caught it.
"JARVIS," Tony said grimly, "pull up everything we have on the Mandarin."
At once, holographic screens lit up as JARVIS searched global databases, including S.H.I.E.L.D. and FBI networks.
"Split the screen. Reconstruct the explosion site."
JARVIS complied, recreating the blast using police data and nearby surveillance footage.
The result matched reality perfectly—the source of the explosion was a person.
"Analyze him," Tony said, pointing at the scruffy man.
"I want to know what kind of explosive could cause that level of destruction."
"Sir," JARVIS replied, "there were no explosives found on his body. Or rather—he himself was the explosive."
The simulation replayed the moment the man detonated. The strange radiating light couldn't be fully reproduced, but the violent bodily explosion was clear.
"So the explosive was inside him?" Tony muttered.
"The human body has very limited space. Aside from organs, there's nowhere to store enough material to level an entire plaza. Even TNT would require a volume comparable to a human lung. It just doesn't add up."
He replayed the simulation again and again, trying to identify the mechanism.
Carl watched for a moment, then spoke.
"Stop overthinking it, Tony. I came here to tell you who's really behind this."
Tony looked up sharply.
"You already know?"
Carl nodded.
"Yes. The mastermind is Aldrich Killian from Advanced Idea Mechanics."
Tony's expression hardened.
"Killian? That Killian again?"
He immediately pulled up the photo Happy had sent him earlier.
"This guy?"
Carl glanced at the image. Though he didn't look exactly like the man from Carl's previous life, the behavior matched perfectly—the meeting with Pepper, the demonstration of his research.
"That's him," Carl confirmed.
"He developed a virus called Extremis. It was originally meant to cure diseases, but once he realized it could enhance the human body, he shifted to using it to create super-soldiers."
"And the Mandarin?" Tony asked.
"Just a puppet," Carl replied calmly.
"A front. The 'Mandarin' is nothing more than a hired actor."
Tony's eyes widened slightly at that.
"Actually," Carl continued, "you bear some responsibility for how Killian turned out."
Tony blinked.
"Me? What does this have to do with me?"
"At a science conference years ago," Carl explained,
"Killian approached you. He idolized you. Back then, he was already researching Extremis and wanted to invite you to join him. But you were busy chasing women, so you lied and told him to wait for you on the rooftop. He waited there all night."
Even Carl felt that the old Tony had been a real jerk. If he wasn't interested, he should have just said so. Giving someone hope and then abandoning them like that could shatter a person.
Tony frowned, trying hard to remember.
"I honestly don't remember him."
"JARVIS," Tony said, "bring up Killian's full profile."
The data appeared instantly, but no matter how much Tony reviewed it, the memory still wouldn't surface.
Then JARVIS spoke again.
"Sir, a vehicle has stopped outside the gate."
The security feed showed a black sedan parked at the entrance. A woman stepped out.
"And why are there so many helicopters outside?" Tony asked.
Outside the villa, no fewer than five helicopters were circling overhead.
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