On a bright afternoon, sunlight streamed through the windows of Avengers Tower. Malrick leaned casually against Tony's desk, swiping through a glowing projection on his palm.
"Nick Fury requested early release from the Raft an hour ago," he muttered. "He wants to go into space? To make one final stand for Earth?"
Tony, slumped behind the desk, rubbed his temples. "It stings—Fury believes Carol's actions enabled those Super Skrulls to slip away." He sighed, exhaustion heavy on his voice. "He's not redeeming her—he's protecting Earth. He'll become our frontier guard."
Malrick raised an eyebrow. "So he's acting for Earth's security."
Tony nodded wearily. "He fought Carol in prison. She was so furious she fainted."
"A fight between old friends—how dramatic," Malrick said dryly. Despite Fury's unconventional methods, his unwavering sense of duty—to protect Earth—earned Malrick's begrudging respect.
Tony blinked, shifting topics. "You know why I summoned you, right?"
Malrick flexed a finger. "To check if you're physically intact?"
Tony waved it off. "I'm fine—strong enough to handle a hundred Captain Americas."
Malrick studied Tony's posture and saw the fatigue etched in his spirit, not his flesh. "Does Pepper know you're in this shape?"
Tony's eyes widened. "Of course... I called you because Wakanda has news."
Projections displayed the Wakandan Royal Guard, Agent Hawkeye, Agent Coulson, and containers filled with shimmering crystalline vibranium.
"Wakanda has broken isolation," Tony explained. "King T'Challa—or his regent—has agreed to sell vibranium at below-market prices. Hawkeye and Coulson returned with a shipment."
Malrick nodded thoughtfully. "You don't need vibranium. But - while you develop new suits, help the Men in Black upgrade their gear—have them fund it."
Tony gripped a pen. "That's a promising venture. Super Hero Company can cover it, with Yelena's licensing profits. She's donating all Captain America merchandise revenue to charity."
Malrick's eyes widened. "Yelena told you?"
Tony laughed. "No—Cap told me afterward. We argued, fought—because I admitted what happened with Bucky. But we made peace."
Malrick's curiosity piqued. "And the outcome?"
Tony shrugged. "A tie, I guess."
Meanwhile, at the Captain America Memorial Hall
Steve Rogers sat in the back row, quietly clenching a jade flask. On the screen, Peggy Carter's interview played, her grace and strength undiminished by time.
Five days prior, the world thought the Skrull crisis was over. Captain Rogers lay in bed, reflecting on the whirlwind—shadow wars, alien invasions, and the realization that in this new era, he still had a role to play.
Tony offered him a boxed 50% share of his company profits stemming from his fame as Captain America. Steve declined.
"I have an Avengers salary," he said firmly. "Donate that money to those in need."
Touched, Tony added his half; together, they launched a humanitarian foundation. Steve later discovered the company was Stark-affiliated, founded by none other than Malrick Stark. He smiled at the legacy of responsibility carried by Howard's sons.
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