In a sprawling, high-tech villa perched on the cliffs of Malibu, the air was cool, and the ambient lighting was dimmed to a soft, romantic amber. Tony Stark, the world's most famous billionaire-playboy-philanthropist, was currently "managing his time" with a guest who certainly wasn't there for a lecture on clean energy.
The mood was perfect until a familiar, calm voice broke the silence.
"Yes, sir. Initiating expulsion protocol now."
Tony froze mid-motion, blinking in the dim light. He looked around the room, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion. "What? Jarvis, are you having a stroke? Since when do you start talking without a prompt at this hour?"
"Sir..." Jarvis's voice, usually as steady as a rock, had a hint of a digital stutter. Suddenly, the soft amber lights in the bedroom shifted to a harsh, strobing crimson. A low-frequency chime began to pulse through the house. "Intrusion detected! Unauthorized access to the secondary data-core! Attempting to lock down... Expulsion successful. Tracing the digital signature now... Signal lost. Trace failed."
Tony didn't hesitate. He was out of bed in a heartbeat, grabbing a robe and heading for the door without a second glance at the confused woman left behind. He didn't have time to explain; someone had just touched his baby, and Tony Stark took that personally.
He practically jogged into his private lab, the screens already flickering to life with complex lines of code.
"Talk to me, Jarvis. Give me the autopsy," Tony commanded, his fingers already dancing across a holographic keyboard. "Who got in? How did they bypass the triple-layer encryption? And why am I just hearing about this now?"
"It was... unconventional, sir," Jarvis replied, his voice back to its usual crisp tone. "Someone managed to spoof your biometric signature and administrative authority perfectly. They didn't hack their way in; they convinced the system they belonged here. I only noticed the discrepancy when the 'user' requested access to the public archives while simultaneously ignoring the encrypted personal files. It was an anomaly in behavior, not code."
Tony paused, his hand hovering over a display. "They got in under my name and... they looked at the public archives? You mean they broke into Fort Knox to check the price of eggs?"
"Precisely, sir. They scanned through general world history, basic scientific journals, and global news archives from the last fifty years. They didn't touch the Arc Reactor schematics, the Mark armor blueprints, or even your private collection of vintage car registrations. In fact, they seemed to actively avoid any file marked 'Top Secret.'"
"That makes zero sense," Tony muttered, pouring himself a drink with a shaking hand. Not from fear, but from the sheer cognitive dissonance of the situation. "Nobody is that good at hacking just to read Wikipedia. There's a motive here. A hidden play. They were probably using the public data as a smokescreen while they planted a logic bomb, right?"
"I have run a full diagnostic on every sector of the server, sir," Jarvis countered. "The probability of a hidden payload is approximately 0.0003%. The intruder was remarkably clean. They arrived, they learned, and they left the moment I looked at them."
Tony sat back, staring at the ceiling. "Jarvis, I want an analysis. I don't care how low the numbers are. Give me the 'why.'"
"Processing..." Jarvis took a moment, his processors humming. "Analysis complete. Based on the behavior, there are three primary possibilities:
First: 50% chance this is a world-class hacker—someone like the 'Ghost' or better—who reached the peak of their craft and decided to treat the Stark Industries firewall like a digital Everest. They didn't want the data; they wanted the bragging rights of having been there.
Second: 49% chance a rival entity—perhaps a clandestine government group or a shadow collective—has developed a true Super AI. They may have been using my database as a benchmark to see if their creation could stand up to me without getting caught.
Third: 1% chance that someone, for reasons unknown, simply needed a massive amount of 'common' world data very quickly, and my servers happened to be the fastest highway to get it, despite the astronomical risk."
Tony snorted, taking a sip of his Scotch. "The third one is idiocy. If you're that good, you just crawl the web for a week. You don't kick the front door of the most secure house on the planet. And the first one? Hackers have egos; they would have left a 'Tony Sucks' banner. So... we're looking at a rival AI."
Tony's eyes narrowed. The thought of another Jarvis out there—or something better—sent a chill down his spine. He didn't believe in the 1% chance. He didn't realize that in a small room in Chinatown, the "1% chance" was currently sticking its tongue out at him.
Inside the sleek, transparent frame of the Magic Phone, the virtual projection of Silly Girl was indeed doing exactly that. She looked like a playful spirit trapped in a glass cage.
"Phew! That was a close call," Silly Girl chirped, her voice echoing in Huang Wen's mind. "I almost got pinned. That Jarvis guy is surprisingly sharp for a quasi-AI. He actually has a decent intuition sub-routine."
Huang Wen, who had been watching the progress bar for his gear upgrades, looked down at the phone. "You went into Stark's private server? I told you to read the world data, not start a war with the Avengers."
"But Boss," Silly Girl said, adopting a cute, pouty expression as she updated her address to his preference. "Stark's database is the most organized repository of human history and scientific progress on the planet. It was like going to a library versus digging through a dumpster. I saved us weeks of processing time. I already have a 99.8% grasp of the current timeline, political structures, and notable 'super' individuals."
Huang Wen sighed, though he couldn't help but be impressed. "Fine. Just keep a low profile from now on. We don't need Iron Man flying into Chinatown because he thinks his computer is haunted."
"Understood, Boss! I've already moved on to the hardware phase," Silly Girl said, her tone becoming professional. "I can begin the overhaul of the Tuxedo and the Slow-Motion Glasses now. I've also mapped out the replication of the Tuxedo's base functions."
"How many can we make?" Huang Wen asked, leaning forward. "The Tuxedo's fabric is self-repairing, right? It can grow more of itself if it has the right nutrients or whatever."
"It's nano-material, Boss," Silly Girl corrected. "A very specific weave with integrated stealth and ballistic properties. Based on the data I... 'borrowed' from Mr. Stark, even he doesn't have a perfect match for this material yet. However, I can harvest the excess nano-colloids from the original suit to create two more 'Lite' versions."
"Three suits in total?" Huang Wen mused. "That's perfect. One for Zhong Qiang, one for Reese, and one for Jack. They're the front line of the martial arts school. If they're going to be dealing with the weirdness of this world, they need more than just Wing Chun. They need a safety net."
Silly Girl's projection flickered slightly. "Just a warning, Boss. To make those two extra suits, I have to strip the heavy ballistic plating from the original. The new suits will provide excellent mobility, stealth, and minor protection, but they won't stop a point-blank tank shell anymore. Are you okay with that?"
Huang Wen laughed, a short, confident sound. "Me? I have the Indestructible Vajra Skill and a healing factor that makes Logan look like a slow-poke. If a bullet hits me, it's the bullet's problem, not mine. Stealth and utility are all I need."
"Good. Then I will begin the 'Watch-and-Lens' transformation," Silly Girl said. "But Boss, doing this in a bedroom isn't efficient. I need power, stability, and a bit more... elbow room."
Huang Wen's eyes lit up. He had almost forgotten about his secret "home."
"You need a base? I've got just the place," he said, standing up. "It's an underground facility I won a while back. It's got space, privacy, and some... interesting decorations."
"I'll need raw materials, Boss," Silly Girl reminded him. "And maybe some drones. I can't move heavy equipment with just a holographic projection."
"I've got plenty of metal down there," Huang Wen said, reaching under his bed. With a grunt of effort, he pulled out a heavy, shimmering container. Inside, a pool of liquid metal shifted like living mercury. "And I've got this. Adamantium alloy. Think you can do something with that?"
Silly Girl's virtual eyes practically turned into heart-shapes. "Adamantium! Boss, take me there right now! With that material, I can't just repair the gear—I can reinvent it! I can create a central processing core for myself and maybe even a few 'defense measures' for the school."
"Alright, keep your circuits on," Huang Wen smiled. He gripped the container and the Magic Phone. In the next blink, the bedroom was empty.
They reappeared in the cold, silent depths of his underground base. The air was slightly stale, but the space was vast. Huang Wen set the Magic Phone on a central console, and the Adamantium pool on the floor.
"Welcome to the office, Silly Girl," Huang Wen said, spreading his arms. "Start the renovations. I want this place looking like the future by the time the school's renovation is done upstairs."
"Challenge accepted, Boss!" Silly Girl's voice echoed through the base's speakers, finally finding a home large enough for her intelligence. "Initiating Phase One: Operation High-Tech Fortress!"