Chapter 20

In the dim light of the next morning, clad in the same attire as the day before, I abandoned all that tethered me. My prevailing suspicions had dissipated, and now, my sole intent was to bid a silent farewell to my departed comrade.

Covering a distance of 50 miles with supernatural swiftness, a routine as familiar to me as breath, I arrived at Howard Stark's resting place. The air was heavy with mourning, a multitude paying their last respects.

Unseen and unnoticed, I slipped into the gathering. The few around his grave offered me the solitude I sought.

"Stark, brilliant yet not prudent," I murmured softly, thinking my words unheard amid the sobbing whispers of others.

"What were you to him?" questioned a grief-stricken teen, his pain resonating in every uttered syllable.

"Long ago, vengeance clouded my mind. It would have consumed me if not for the wisdom of a stranger like him," I replied, avoiding a direct answer to his initial query.

Silent contemplation followed my words. A sidelong glance revealed the young boy as Tony's son. Emotion restrained, I shifted my gaze to another grave—his mother's.

"Rest in peace..."

"I asked you something... Mr.?" the boy persisted.

"Your parents call me Conner, but you can call me Uncle Conner, if you prefer," I responded, sensing his curiosity growing.

"Wait... I never heard that name..." he mused, uncertain if my face or name belonged to any memory.

"That's true, because your father and I never wished to involve you," I reassured him. "Now, tell me, what kind of person do you think your father was?"

"He was cold, calculative. He never told me he loved me, he never even told me he liked me. So it's a bit hard for me explai-" His response was measured, painting a picture of a distant and unexpressive father.

Interrupting before his thoughts fully unraveled, I handed him a small diary from my pocket—Howard's log for his son in case of an untimely demise.

"Here, you will learn what your father truly was. Although I promised to give you this when you reach 25 or 30, mature a bit more. It will help to cope with pain... better than wine and women for distraction," I advised.

"I will take my leave now; I have to bring his murderer to justice."

"What... what do you mean he died because of a car accident..." the boy exclaimed, his shock apparent, quickly adjusting his tone to avoid drawing attention.

"In the shadows' dance, whispers weave a cloak of deception. For a true spy knows: Trust is a blade that cuts both ways. To navigate the labyrinth of deceit, heed this creed," I responded cryptically, scanning the surroundings as black-suited figures approached.

"What do you mean!" he demanded, frustration tainting his tone.

"You have everything you need to know in your hand; just keep it in check," I said calmly, emphasizing the book I handed him.

"Keep. That. Book. Safe," I stressed, ensuring the words lingered as I vanished from the scene, leaving him to ponder the cryptic revelations.