Compared to the online war waged for three straight days between Supporters and Opponents, the official media presented a far more unified front—lavish praise, nonstop coverage, and carefully crafted narratives.
Right now, Malrick was watching a news report from KNKV-TV in Los Angeles.
Funny, considering this was the same outlet that, just a month ago, suggested Superman might be a power-hungry tyrant ready to impose global dictatorship.
Same anchor. Same plastic smile.
But now she said:
"Superman's arrival is nothing short of a miracle. He thwarted HYDRA's apocalyptic plans, saved tens of millions, and stands as a shining beacon of hope for all humanity!"
"Without question, he represents the dawn of a new era and is our greatest ally!"
The screen transitioned to a respected-looking academic seated in a TV studio—his nameplate read "Dr. Francis."
Dr. Francis adjusted his tie and cleared his throat before launching into a lecture.
He started with Superman's kindness in comic book lore, moved into his real-world heroism during the nuclear event, and theorized that Malrick must've had parents as noble as the Kents.
His conclusion: Superman was unquestionably good.
Malrick scoffed softly, lips twitching in disbelief.
The exact same people, in the exact same studio, now preaching the opposite of what they had declared only weeks ago.
Did they feel no shame at all? Didn't the hypocrisy smack them in the face?
He and Tony had once joked about this exact scenario.
Apparently, that joke had become prophecy.
If he didn't eventually show some soft-hearted, overly noble persona, they'd just keep piling on praise until he was entombed in it—expectations high enough to crush anyone.
"This whole 'Superman is justice incarnate' thing is everywhere now," said Sherry, stepping into the room. She'd just gotten back from school.
She glanced at the projection as she sat beside him. "Even at school, the walls have posters. And the street billboards... it's all over."
"People say good things, sure, but it's a little weird. Like they're trying to trap you up there, on some kind of pedestal."
Malrick smiled, genuinely impressed. "You're sharper than most adults, Sherry."
He ruffled her hair affectionately. "You're right. All this praise isn't entirely sincere. It's a setup."
Even a child could see it—the media was trying to reshape Malrick's image, make him believe he was something more than human. An untouchable symbol. A moral saint.
They wanted him to internalize the role so deeply that even a casual decision—like which foot to step out of bed with—would feel like a global debate.
If he weren't so durable, it would've been a dangerous trap.
Instead, it was just annoying.
Tony, of course, loved it.
In the last three days, he'd called repeatedly, venting a mix of jealousy, admiration, and envy about Malrick's skyrocketing fame.
"I knew it!" Sherry beamed, happy that Malrick agreed with her. She sat up straighter, proud of her instincts.
"But if you know they're faking it," she asked, "why do you keep watching the news?"
Malrick cleared his throat.
Naturally, he wasn't going to admit he found it entertaining.
"I'm actually waiting for your Uncle Tony's live broadcast. He's at a Senate hearing today."
"Come on, let's watch together."
Tony Stark was scheduled to appear before a Senate committee to answer for the illegal possession of weaponized armor.
Malrick wasn't worried. The hearing was symbolic at best.
After all, the Rising Tide leak had exposed a long list of high-ranking officials with ties to HYDRA. The government was too busy saving face to pick a real fight with Iron Man.
The projection flickered to a live feed.
The hearing chamber was packed.
A senator leaned forward, voice sharp: "Mr. Tony Stark, how do you respond to the charge of illegally possessing weaponized armor?"
Tony rubbed his forehead, already looking exasperated. "Weaponized? Really? That's a stretch."
"It's just a high-tech prosthetic I developed. You all know what happened to me in Afghanistan."
"I'm part machine now. What you're seeing is assisted mobility. Completely normal."
The audience laughed. Tony wore a snug, short-sleeved knit shirt that showed off his athletic build.
He looked less like someone in need of prosthetics and more like a fitness model.
Still, the joke landed.
The senator gave a small chuckle, but quickly moved on to a more loaded question.
"Former SHIELD Director Nick Fury, before being detained, requested a temporary halt to the organization's disbandment. He recommended you as a possible successor to rebuild SHIELD."
"Was this based on private deals? Or because you possess this armor?"
Tony paused, serious now. "I can't speak for Fury's reasoning."
"Maybe it's because my father helped found SHIELD. Maybe it's because I care about cleaning up what was left behind."
"But again, this armor? Not a weapon. Just a prosthetic. Fancy one, but still."
The senator frowned but before he could push, someone at his side cleared their throat—a silent cue to let it go.
Reluctantly, the senator changed course.
"Regarding the so-called 'Men in Black'—an international group using technology very similar to yours. Are you willing to admit Stark Industries may still be supplying advanced weapons to unauthorized users?"
Tony blinked, then laughed out loud. "Wow. That's absurd."
"To my knowledge, the Men in Black belong to Superman."
He glanced around the room, letting the statement sink in.
"You all know I had some… interactions with Superman in Sokovia."
"So if these people really are using my tech, maybe he stole it."
"As a loyal taxpayer, can I request the government file a copyright lawsuit on my behalf?"
"And if you think the Men in Black are terrorists, then please—go ask Superman to shut them down."
Tony leaned back, grinning, and gave Pepper a wink from across the room.
Silence fell.
Utter silence.
Even the scattered whispers stopped cold.
On the dais, several senators paled.
Did they just hear that right?
Superman leads the Men in Black?
People had speculated, sure. But no one had dared confirm it—until now.
And now Iron Man had dropped that bomb in a live broadcast, with no hesitation.
The senator who had asked the question looked like he might faint. His face turned white, his hands shaking.
He'd only wanted to probe Tony's use of armor.
Now it felt like he'd insulted Superman directly.
If some Defense Department hawk decided that this line of questioning could provoke Malrick, he might not make it out of the building alive.
The senator scrambled for damage control.
"We have no such intention!" he shouted.
"I assure you, Mr. Stark, that was routine procedure. We have the utmost respect for you—and for Superman."
He grabbed the gavel and slammed it down.
"Hearing adjourned! That's all for today. Cut the broadcast!"
The screen faded to black, switching to commercial ads.
Malrick and Sherry exchanged looks.
"Did Uncle Tony just... tell everyone about your sisters?" she asked, blinking.
Malrick tilted his head slightly, considering it.
He had given Tony permission to leak it if the timing was right.
Still, he sighed and warned her, "Now you understand just how bad your Uncle Tony is at keeping secrets."
"His mouth's like a city bus—gossip gets on at one stop and off at the next."
"Never trust him with anything classified."
Sherry giggled and mimed zipping her mouth shut.
"Got it! Secrets don't go to Uncle Tony!"
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