Barbaque

As the meeting wrapped up, the delegation watched Tony Stark's figure flicker in the glow of his holographic displays. His confident presence, his carefully chosen words—all conveyed a sense of unshakable purpose. But as quickly as it had begun, their time with him ended in a flash of white light, one so brilliant that it momentarily blinded them. In that split second, they felt as if they were plunging through the cosmos, falling from the far reaches of the starry sky itself. They barely had time to process the sensation before a tidal wave of shimmering light washed over them, encasing them in a luminescent cocoon. As they floated in the stream of light, their bodies seemed to dissolve into the glow, each delegate watching in surreal amazement as they fragmented into particles. Yet, despite the unsettling vision of their own disintegration, they felt nothing but a peculiar calm.

When the light finally receded, they found themselves back on the solid ground where they had first stood. Blinking in confusion, the delegates slowly opened their eyes to find themselves surrounded by the familiar landscape of the desert, with the stark horizon stretching as far as they could see. The chill of night was gone; sunlight had reclaimed the vast expanse. Their senses returned in gradual waves, and they realized they were standing exactly where they had begun.

But now, the once-quiet landscape was bustling with activity. Rows of soldiers, researchers, and various officials were scattered around the area, setting up equipment and carefully examining the ground. In the short time since the delegation's departure, a full-scale operation had materialized. Researchers aimed high-tech scanning devices at the sky, as if attempting to unravel the mystery of the delegation's sudden vanishing act. But before they could detect anything substantial, a fresh beam of light sliced down from the sky, illuminating the delegates and depositing them back into reality.

A stunned silence fell over the crowd of personnel. Scientists holding scanners and monitors froze mid-scan, mouths agape as they watched the delegation materialize before them in a spectacle that defied comprehension. Their initial skepticism had melted into pure awe, and several researchers even removed their glasses, rubbing their eyes in disbelief. Some delegates, still dazed from their journey, instinctively touched their arms, their torsos, even their faces, to reassure themselves that they were intact. Their bodies, miraculously unscathed, felt like solid proof that everything they'd experienced was real, not some collective hallucination.

For a brief moment, a surreal stillness filled the air as delegates and personnel alike struggled to process the extraordinary events that had just unfolded. Had they been dreaming? Was this some elaborate illusion? But as they looked into each other's faces, they saw the truth reflected back: it had been real. Stark's words, the visions of shattered worlds, the Watchtower, all of it had been real. And now, they had returned with a monumental responsibility weighing heavily on their shoulders.

Meanwhile, back in the Watchtower, Tony Stark's holographic display blinked off. Charlie, the mastermind operating Tony's avatar, closed out the interface with a sigh. Initially, he had considered returning the Watchtower to his equipment inventory, letting it vanish like a mirage, leaving no trace of its existence. It would be undetectable, eluding even the most sophisticated tracking systems, a ghostly outpost hovering in space. But Friday, his AI advisor, gently interjected.

"Sir, the Watchtower serves as an invaluable frontline against extraterrestrial threats," she reminded him. "It's not only a base but a bastion. The Justice League originally built it in space to monitor and protect Earth from intergalactic dangers. Its deep-space detection capabilities, combined with its advanced defense systems, make it unparalleled. Especially now, with Leila's warning, keeping it active may prove vital."

Charlie nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging Friday's wisdom. "You're right. Leila's warnings should be heeded, and this outpost may be our best chance to spot potential threats before they reach Earth."

"Additionally, sir, I'd recommend stationing someone here as a precaution," Friday suggested. "While we have the technology to teleport heroes to the Watchtower at any moment, an on-duty hero could provide immediate oversight."

Charlie agreed. Although his strongest heroes were few, he could easily spare someone to keep watch over the station. Martian Manhunter or Cyborg would typically fill such a role, but since both were higher-tier heroes, he opted to assign Huntress, a reliable and resourceful ally.

He anticipated that the world's intelligence agencies and military powers would soon be in a frenzy, scrambling to locate the "ship" they'd seen. They would send probes, satellites, and every advanced tool at their disposal, yet they'd find nothing. The Watchtower would remain as elusive as Batman himself—a ghost in the void. Governments might even search for Stark's identity, combing through databases and archives, but they would come up empty-handed. In this world, the heroes he deployed were untraceable phantoms; they didn't belong to this Earth and had no records to reveal.

But Charlie's ambitions didn't stop at secrecy. He planned to acquire resources from humanity, using them to advance his technology and, in turn, elevate the entire human race. In many ways, his vision mirrored that of Tony Stark. Stark, after all, was more than just a superhero; he was a futurist. His mission had always extended beyond fighting criminals or extraterrestrial foes—he aimed to push civilization itself forward, accelerating advancements in energy, medicine, weapons, and countless other fields. Even after abandoning his arms-dealing legacy, Stark Technology continued to embody that spirit of progress.

Stark's intellect and ambition set him apart. Some called it arrogance; others saw it as vision. He was willing to bear the future of humanity on his shoulders, not just by donning the Iron Man armor but by propelling human society toward a new age. He even stepped into the political realm at one point, an effort that ultimately left a controversial legacy. But through each endeavor, Stark's goal remained clear: to create a safer, more advanced world, whatever the cost.

His legacy had a darker side, however. In certain alternate timelines, versions of Stark had overstepped moral boundaries, using technology to seize control. These alternate Iron Men had proved that if Stark ever set aside his ethics, he had the power to rule the world. Charlie, however, had no intention of following that path. He would avoid dangerous creations like Ultron, but he still aspired to create an Iron Legion, a vast army of metal warriors.

Charlie's current arc reactor design was simplified, optimized for mass production. Each unit in the Iron Legion would carry only the essentials: a palm-mounted pulse gun and the ability to fly. It wasn't as advanced as Iron Man's personal suit but would serve its purpose. Originally, Stark had envisioned a super AI to command these units, but Avengers: Age of Ultron had proven the folly of that idea. Charlie decided to scale back his ambitions, installing basic combat AI into each suit. Like the robots that Iron Man deployed to evacuate civilians, these units would be programmed to serve but never to question.

Friday confirmed the designs were ready for production. Since Stark had designed them with large-scale manufacturing in mind, their complexity was significantly lower than his personal suits. With adequate funding and resources, they could finally bring these blueprints to life.

The Iron Legion would be his edge, his shield. He envisioned an army under his control, a force that could stand up to the threats he knew were coming. As he leaned back in his chair, he felt a sense of satisfaction. Between the formidable heroes, advanced technology, and the organization he'd built, Charlie held the cards he needed to maintain both security and leverage. It was a delicate balance, but he understood all too well that being too generous often led to being taken advantage of. Superman was a prime example—a being of godlike power, constantly manipulated because he was willing to yield.

"Break's over," Charlie said to himself, exiting the Watchtower's interface.

"Friday, what's next on the agenda?"

"Actually, sir, we have one pending task," Friday replied, her tone hinting at urgency.

---

Elsewhere, the silence of the night was shattered by the sound of footsteps. A young woman darted down a darkened road, her bare feet scraping against the rough pavement. Her clothing was torn and dirty, her hair wild, and her face pale with terror. Every few steps, she glanced over her shoulder, her wide eyes searching the shadows for any sign of her pursuer.

Turning sharply, she found herself at the end of a dead-end alley. Panic surged through her as she pressed her back against the wall, feeling the cold, unyielding brick against her spine. Her breathing quickened as she watched a dark shape materialize at the alley's mouth—a twisted, hulking figure that had once been human.

Covered in thorny black growths and twisted beyond recognition, the creature let out a guttural snarl, saliva dripping from its sharp, stained teeth. It staggered forward, its once-human features lost beneath layers of unnatural mutation.

"No… please," the woman whispered, her voice trembling. "Don't you remember me?"

But her plea only seemed to fuel the creature's rage. With a monstrous scream, it lunged forward.

Suddenly, a calm voice cut through the darkness.

"Infected, huh? This could be interesting."

The creature halted mid-lunge, turning to face a newcomer standing at the alley's entrance. The figure wore a long white trench coat, his silhouette illuminated by the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp. He approached with a slow stride, his gaze fixed on the infected creature.

It was Felix, a field agent of the Ninth Special Service Division.

"Well, I'll leave this one to you, alright?" Felix said, almost lazily.

The infected man snarled in response, charging toward him. But Felix didn't flinch. He closed his eyes briefly, and when they opened, they were glowing white.

A shadow detached itself from Felix's form, taking on a vaguely human shape as it lunged forward, its arm stretching out like a phantom to seize the infected man by the throat. The creature froze, its eyes widening in terror as it felt the shadow's grip tighten.

"Bang," Felix whispered.

With a violent eruption, the infected man's body exploded, torn apart by an unseen force. Blood and viscera splattered the walls, painting a macabre scene that caused the woman to scream again, her voice echoing down the alley.

Felix rolled his neck, looking slightly annoyed as he turned to leave. His eyes reverted to their normal color, and he muttered under his breath.

"Honestly, did you really have to make it so messy?" he grumbled to himself. "…Well, whatever. Now, where to find a decent barbecue?"

(end of chapter)

[TL Note- So, Felix got an upgrade?]