Chapter 1855: Madman's Journey (Thirty-One)_1

The car raced down the highway in New Jersey, kicking up clouds of dust. The setting sun fell on the terracotta earth at the end of the road, bathing the puddles strewn across the leaden streets of Manhattan in dazzling gold and red.

When Tony Stark, decked out in his Iron Armor, appeared in the coffee shop, it caused quite a stir. People whipped out their cell phones, the incessant click of camera shutters filled the air. Stark, impatient, waved dismissively, but the crowd only grew.

The barista, sporting an apologetic smile, emerged from behind the counter, contemplating how to have a word with Stark about his showiness. He paused his approach when a stack of bills landed on the counter.

The rotund proprietor's eyes gleamed from inside the kitchen as the sign announcing the coffee shop's closure clanged against the door.

Stark, hands cupped behind his head, leaned casually onto the chair by the window with the best view. The door chime tinkled, heralding the arrival of a red-haired female agent. Stark greeted Natasha with a whistle as she rounded the corner.

Natasha set her bag down and took a seat across from Stark. She removed her sunglasses and quirked an eyebrow, asking, "It's been a while, Tony. How have you been?"

"Don't play dumb." Stark flicked her a sidelong glance, turning away to add, "After you were gone, Pepper has been nothing but trouble. If you guys don't come looking for me, I am going to have a word with Nick about reparations for emotional damages."

However, Natasha didn't respond with her usual seriousness. She leaned on the table, her pale fingers supporting her chin, and scrutinised Stark from under her lashes, "Did Pepper not agree with my assessment of you?"

Stark immediately blew his top, "That's downright defamation! You're making me look bad in her eyes, and it's not like she...

"Not like she had any complaints about your lack of service skills or poor performance, that is, until she heard my grievances. Now she knows there are plenty of good men in this world, lots of them, in fact. Sorry, genius Stark, that's the easiest thing."

Stark glared daggers at the barista eavesdropping behind the kitchen door, yet he couldn't help but rub his nose awkwardly, straightening up awkwardly in his chair.

"I was a bit inebriated that night. My subpar performance was due to my unclear mind. Furthermore, you didn't point out any issue on the spot but chose to smear my name afterwards. That's not exactly admirable either."

"You're mistaken. I've never revealed anything about us to anyone. If Pepper is complaining, you might want to check on your cover models."

Stark's eyebrows scrunched together suspiciously. He rolled his eyes as if trying to recall who could have bothered Pepper. After a moment, he extended one finger, "I'm not signing any NDA with you, but you absolutely cannot suggest any 'good men' topics to Pepper."

Natasha's eyes narrowed, resembling a cat that had spotted its prey. She smiled at Stark, "I thought Pepper was just 'one of them'. Is she? Or is she not?"

Natasha astutely detected a glimmer of panic in Stark's eyes. The female agent sniffed, "The scent of at least seven different perfumes is clinging to you, an aftermath of another wild yacht party. How many unanswered calls did Pepper leave you?"

"Did you tap my phone?"

"God, should I tell you how innocent you sound now? Like you just finished your graduation prom?" Natasha decided to strike a decisive blow, "You're in love with Pepper."

Both the Stark in the coffee shop and the one in the Devourer Engine covered their faces.

"You guys didn't all see it then, did you?" The Stark seated by the bar in the Star Devouring Engine's hall turned to Nick,"Did I really write it all over my face?"

"I can only say that Pepper might be the only one who hasn't noticed this yet. Psychologically speaking, you two really are a match made in heaven," Shiller replied with a shrug.

Inside the coffee shop, Stark had assumed a different stance entirely. Leaning forward, elbows rested on the coffee table, he stared at Natasha, "You're talking nonsense."

Then he reclined back into his original relaxed posture, hands cushioned behind his head.

Natasha, however, wasn't buying it. She accepted the coffee slid her way by the barista, hummed in response, "You're refusing to acknowledge your feelings because you know you're dying. You know you can't propose to Pepper because if she fell for you too, you'd have to suffer the pain of parting through death."

Iron Man's lips were thin and pale.

"You don't want to drag others into your mess. All you want is to enjoy your life then die a carefree death somewhere, preferably forgotten and unlamented."

"There wouldn't be anyone lamenting my death anyway!" Stark retorted bitterly, "An infamous arms dealer, an unprincipled playboy? Anyone mourning me must've lost their mind."

"What about your father?"

"Don't bring him up!"

The seductive but cunning cat saw another fish. And as an agent, rather than taking her time with a bait, she preferred to go straight for the harpoon.

"You know there was one person who would be determined to save you, even at the cost of his own life, too bad he's dead."

"I hope he is," Stark gripped his coffee cup tight.

"But a person's death is not determined by the time their body disappears."

Natasha began to release a philosophical smokescreen, a move she learned from Shiller. Once philosophy is brought up, most people's minds are not equipped to handle it, she herself had been blinded in this way before.

"We often say that oblivion is the end of death, as long as someone remembers, death is never complete. Howard Stark has been dead for a long time, but he has not died, because there are still people who remember him; that is the only reason I am here now."

Natasha also leaned forward to show an aggressive stance, looking at Stark, she said, "Out of respect for your father, Nick asked me to come and talk to you. He wanted to recruit you with me, but he saw through the window that you were not in a good state, so he let me come alone, purely to check on you, the recruitment we can discuss later."

"He pities me?"

"Certainly not, he's an old friend of your father's, he naturally wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you. And what I want to say is, like all those who remember Howard, they saw Howard's talent first-hand. Therefore, after all these years since his death, they still haven't forgotten him."

"No one will remember you, not because you are such a terrible person, you know that Howard Stark was also a playboy and even caused many ridiculous incidents. But these are not what people remember."

"People only know that Howard was a brilliant inventor, a successful businessman, and you, Tony, if you die now, the eulogy at your funeral will likely only include the phrase 'gone too soon.'"

Natasha shrugged, took a sip of coffee and said, "After all, the company was not founded by you, the weapons were not invented by you, and only the Iron Armor is worth mentioning. But how do ordinary people know how useful your battlesuit is? They just think of it as a giant toy, and the impression you leave on the world is probably just that of a wealthy playboy."

"Bang!"

The barista delivering Stark's coffee jumped at the noise of Stark pounding the table. Natasha stood up to accept the coffee for Stark and placed it in front of him.

As the coffee was set down, Natasha thought she saw a tiny glow on the surface of the coffee, but she wasn't sure if it was just a reflection.

The cautious agent spilled half a cup of coffee on Stark's Iron suit with a quick flick of her hand.

"Oh, my God, I'm sorry," Natasha quickly apologized and asked the barista for a towel, but Stark stood up suddenly, his voice cold, "I've received Nick's concern. That's enough for today. I'm leaving."

Natasha was not the least bit intimidated, she looked at Stark and said, "Your suit lining is wet, and if Pepper is waiting for you anxiously at your usual landing spot as usual, do you want her to see you like this?"

Stark started to get a little restless, he kept biting his upper lip as he looked at Natasha and said, "What do you want me to do? Do you expect these people to dry out my armor lining?"

"At least wash off the coffee stains in the bathroom," Natasha pushed Stark and said, "You don't want to explain to Pepper how you got all this coffee on you from another woman."

Stark walked into the bathroom rather embarrassingly, with Natasha following him all the way until he stood in front of the mirror over the sink in the middle of the bathroom. Through the mirror, he saw Natasha put her hand on his waist.

Just as Stark was about to speak, Natasha made a 'shhh' sign to him through the mirror, then said in silence, "Someone wants to kill you. A mysterious enemy, we don't know where he is or how he plans to do it, but he is always around you, ready to strike at any time. Be careful, Tony."

Finished speaking, Natasha pretended like she was ending her flirtation, hooked her arm around Stark's neck and gave him a peck on the cheek, then walked off casually toward the ladies' room.

After standing there stunned for a few seconds, Stark looked left and right before pretending nothing happened and walked over to the sink to clean his suit lining.

When Stark left the bathroom, he noticed that Natasha had already gotten into Nick's car. Through the gradually rolling up window, he saw Natasha's last warning glance, and couldn't help but show a thoughtful look.

Could this be a trap set by S.H.I.E.L.D? Creating a crisis to force him to join the superhero organization that Nick is trying to build?

Stark tilted his head and touched the blue line gradually spreading on his shoulder. That was the countdown of his life.

If he died, would anyone look after his offspring decades from now?

Pepper and Obadiah are heartbroken by his decadent behavior, perhaps they can't wait for him to die.

Pulling out his phone, Stark saw a series of missed calls. Natasha's guess was very accurate. Stark just had a wild three-day party on a yacht, not taking any calls during that time. He knew he was pushing them away, but he volunteered to do so.

But at this moment, Stark suddenly thought of a name. If there was still anyone who would put a bunch of flowers on his grave a hundred years later, it would surely be Rhode's son, because his father had told the legendary story of Iron Man more than once. Rhodes knew that his epitaph should be more than just playboy.

Stark took a deep breath, turned back to look at the coffee spilled on the table, and as night fell, the golden-red meteor disappeared on the horizon.

A hand reached into the washing machine and groped around for a while, a curly-haired black woman pulled out a pair of trousers with a grunt, frowned, and yelled out the door, "Hancock, tell your dad if he dares to wash his crappy jeans with a white shirt again, he can get the hell out of this house!"

Rhodes, sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper, shouted back and then touched the head of his son who came running over to him, and then he saw the glow of Iron Man's suit engine under the balcony curtain.