The party was lively, or rather, very Stark.
The top floor of Arbitrator Tower perfectly encapsulated Tony Stark's party philosophy: there was no most extravagant, only more extravagant.
Psychedelic lasers cut through the air, and deafening rock music nearly blew off the custom-made glass dome.
The air was thick with a complex scent of barbecue, cheese pizza, high-end champagne, and Tony's latest concoction, "Fire Tequila," so potent it could choke a person.
Many people had arrived. Natasha, in a black evening gown, leaned against the bar, holding a martini. She was smiling and whispering with Bayonetta, who wore an elegant long dress, occasionally letting out soft laughs.
Steve, dressed in khakis and a casual shirt, stood with Sam. Sam was excitedly gesturing something to Steve, clearly recounting his "thrilling" aerial encounters with his flight wing—like almost colliding with a flock of migrating Canadian geese.
Dr. Banner, holding a glass of lemonade, was discussing the technology recently acquired from the wreckage of Steppenwolf's warship with Shuri.
In the dance floor, Quicksilver was constantly changing positions and striking different dance poses to the rhythm of the music; while at the center of the stage was Wade Wilson, who had managed to escape from his group of rich older women. He had just happened to encounter Quicksilver after leaving a Villa in Beverly Hills.
"Friday, confirm the absentee list," Tony's voice came through the music. He held a drink. "Cyclops, Iceman, were they dragged back by their Old Ice Pop Professor? Tsk tsk, Mutant academic conferences are so boring."
"Yes, Boss. Professor X's emergency recall notice was delivered 37 minutes before the party began," Friday's voice sounded in Tony's ear.
"What about that Daredevil guy? Are Hell's Kitchen's rats out again?"
"Mr. Matt Murdock left a message: Thank you for the invitation, but there might be smuggling activity near the Queens Bridge, and he needs to 'listen in.'"
"Ha! Listen to that, what a magnificent spirit of community service!" Tony exaggeratedly raised his glass, turning to Banner, who was trying to avoid the sonic boom caused by Pietro. "Bruce, learn from him! Don't always think about turning green and smashing things!"
Banner pursed his lips, his lemonade almost spilling. "Tony… if you don't stop Pietro, he'll drag me onto the 'Quicksilver Rollercoaster' sooner or later."
He glanced at the center of the dance floor, where Pietro was wildly spinning with a group of scantily clad girls, almost forming a small tornado.
"Hey! Captain! Try this!" Sam excitedly brought over a glass of liquid with strange blue-purple bubbles. "Tony's new invention, 'Asgard Bifrost Bridge Smasher'! They say it tastes like your tongue got hit by Mjolnir!"
Steve looked at the suspicious liquid, his brow slightly furrowed, his face clearly showing the word "Refuse." "Sam, I think juice is just fine."
"Oh, come on, Old Ice Pop! A party is meant to be wild!" Tony squeezed over, shoving the "Bifrost Bridge Smasher" into Steve's hand and grabbing a glass for himself.
"To our victorious interstellar demolition team! To Chen Tian! To him successfully preventing Apokolips from crashing into our backyard!" He tilted his head back and took a big gulp. "Oh! This kick… Friday! Record this! The formula still needs adjustment, the aftertaste is too strong… *hic*!"
On the other side, the combat team's style was completely different.
In the dining area, Sun Wukong had a pile of food dishes in front of him that was taller than he was, eating so fast that only a blur of hand Shadow and chewing sounds remained.
"Friday! Ten more fried chicken! Twenty beef burgers! And that stretchy one… what's it called… right, right, right, cheese lobster!" A muffled voice came from behind the food fortress.
Beside him was Kiana, holding a strawberry cake in one hand and a donut in the other. She was staring dumbfounded at Wukong, who had devoured nearly a hundred servings of food.
By the bar, Dante finished a cup of espresso, tapping his fingers on the counter. "Friday, where's my strawberry pudding? Don't tell me Tony, that cheapskate, forgot to order it!"
"Mr. Dante, your fifteen special pizzas and twenty strawberry puddings are on their way, expected to arrive in 5 minutes," Friday's voice was unruffled.
Vergil still stood with his arms crossed, Yamato leaning by his feet, eyes closed in meditation, as if all the surrounding clamor had nothing to do with him.
It was only when Dante tried to pat his shoulder with a coffee-stained hand that Yamato's sheath imperceptibly shifted an inch, blocking the offending hand.
Madara stood with his arms crossed over his chest, in front of the large floor-to-ceiling window, his Reincarnation Eye reflecting the dark Malibu sea below, his gaze deep.
He seemed to be contemplating the mysteries of the Universe, or perhaps just calculating what posture to use to beg his master for more "power."
Occasionally, he would glance towards the dance floor, and a hint of disdain for "mortal clamor" would flicker in his eyes.
Saitama sat on a single sofa next to Chen Tian, his eyes vacant, staring at a non-existent point in the air.
His fingers unconsciously picked at the sofa armrest, murmuring, "Wednesday… Wednesday… supermarket special… eggs… fresh produce section… can't miss it…"
Chen Tian was lazily sprawled on a sofa, holding a glass of juice that Tony had forced on him (alcoholic beverages were automatically replaced by Miss 2B on the grounds that "Master has just undergone high-intensity combat and needs electrolyte replenishment").
He looked at the noisy scene before him: Banner being pulled into the dance floor by Pietro, trying to suppress the Hulk's urge to come out;
Tony was holding a microphone, trying to roar along with the rock music, but was severely off-key;
Sam was trying hard to coax Steve to try a sip of that "Bifrost Bridge Smasher," the Captain's resistance almost solidifying on his face;
From Wukong's side came the sound of a food pile collapsing…
"Whew…" Chen Tian took a sip of the icy juice, the sweet and sour taste spreading across his tongue.
His tense nerves finally relaxed completely in this familiar, slightly Stark-esque, neurotic atmosphere of fireworks.
A pair of slender, jade-like hands slowly climbed onto Chen Tian's temples.
Chen Tian looked up and saw the gentle Miss 2B. Miss 2B smiled at Chen Tian, her fingers gently massaging him.
Tony's wailing rock song finally finished (more like roared to an end). He reluctantly dropped the microphone, swaying with slightly unsteady steps to Chen Tian's "quiet corner."
"How does it feel, kid?" Tony picked up a new "Quantum Tequila" and plopped down with a thud onto the sofa armrest next to Chen Tian, the liquor almost spilling onto Saitama's shiny bald head, which Saitama instinctively tilted to avoid.
"Noisy," Chen Tian said succinctly, raising his juice glass and making a clinking motion in the air towards Tony. "But, it's alright."
Tony laughed heartily, patting Chen Tian's shoulder forcefully: "That's right! First lesson back home is to adapt to Tony Stark's party rhythm! Look at our Mr. Madara."
He gestured with his chin towards Uchiha Madara by the window, who exuded an "approach at your own risk" aura. "So serious and profound, clearly never experienced the beatings of society! And our Bald Cape Hero,"
He turned to Saitama, "Only supermarket special eggs on his mind! What a simple and unpretentious pursuit of life! This is the state one should be in after a war!"
When Saitama heard the words "eggs," his eyes instantly focused, and his deadpan gaze seriously looked at Tony: "Special offer time, absolutely cannot miss it."
"Hahahaha! Exactly! Friday! Give Mr. Saitama's shopping list top priority! Make sure he has enough shopping bags!"
Tony waved his hand grandly. "Oh, by the way, where's that kid Bruce?"
He looked around and finally spotted his target at the edge of the dance floor—Dr. Banner was being enthusiastically dragged by Quicksilver, who was trying to teach him a bizarre "hip-swiveling dance."
Banner looked utterly resigned, each uncoordinated twist accompanied by the panic of imminent "transformation."
"Pfft…" Chen Tian couldn't help but laugh at Banner's perpetually on-the-verge-of-exploding look, almost choking on his juice.
"Oh ho! Our Baby Banner is about to erupt!" Tony whistled, as if wishing for chaos, and raised his glass. "To science! To the angry little green man! Bruce! Unleash your true nature!"
Banner seemed to have heard him, casting a glare across the crowd, his face already subtly turning green.
"Friday," Chen Tian put down his juice glass, a hint of schadenfreude in his tone, "Is Dr. Banner's spare pair of elastic custom shorts ready? I think he's about to lose it."
"Standing by, Mr. Chen," Friday's voice carried a subtle… anticipation?
Tony laughed even louder, pulling Chen Tian and Saitama, who was still picking at the sofa and calculating time, into an embrace. "See? This is life! Much more interesting than blowing up Apokolips! Come on, come on, tonight's goal—everyone! No one leaves sober! Friday! Louder music! Keep the drinks flowing!"
The surging music once again rose an octave, almost shattering the reinforced glass of the dome.
Dizzying lights spun wildly, the scent of food, the smell of alcohol, the smell of sweat mingled, and the clamor of human voices and deafening rhythms completely engulfed the massive living room.
Chen Tian rested his head back on Miss 2B's lap, a slight smile playing on his lips. Although the noise made his brain ache, although Dr. Pym's trouble still awaited him, although Daredevil was catching rats in Hell's Kitchen, although Professor Charles Xavier's Academy was up to something…
But at this moment, watching his companions indulge after the smoke of battle had cleared, listening to Tony's exaggerated laughter and Banner's faint wails.
("Pietro! Stop! I can't control it... Ugh!"), feeling the steady pulse of the Planet beneath his feet.
Hmm, it felt good to be home.
Tony was still loudly urging people to drink. Chen Tian drained the rest of his juice and quietly murmured to the void, his voice lost in the wave of revelry:
"Friday, have the kitchen prepare some hangover soup and headache medicine. Stark Industries' parties… the after-effects are no less potent than the 'Bifrost Bridge Smasher.'"
— — — — — —
The morning Sun pierced through the floor-to-ceiling windows, carrying the salty scent of the sea, dispelling the lingering smoke, alcohol fumes, and post-party mess in the top-floor living room.
The deafening music had long since stopped, replaced by the chaotic "battlefield" left after the party.
Dining area.
Chen Tian leisurely picked up a golden, crispy fried dough stick, dipping it into rich, warm soy milk.
Across from him, Madara sat upright, holding a steaming bowl of White rice, a small dish of natto, a few slices of grilled salmon, and a plate of pickles, eating slowly.
Vergil sat elegantly beside Chen Tian, delicately sipping red tea from a bone china cup, while his other hand used a silver fork to precisely cut a small piece of exquisite English cake sprinkled with powdered sugar.
Yes, precisely. The cut surface of Vergil's cake looked as if it had been divided by Yamato's Dimension Slash.
Dante, on the other hand, was sprawled with his entire upper body in the chair, his long legs unceremoniously propped on the edge of the dining table, one foot casually swinging.
He held a huge Mark, filled with steaming dark coffee, and around him lay scattered wrappers from several donuts.
"Mr. Dante," a gentle female voice sounded. Miss 2B approached the dining table with steaming fried dumplings, a smile on her face, but her gaze fell on Dante's boots propped on the table.
In Dante's eyes, the meaning behind that smile was nothing but danger, and more danger.
Dante's lazy smile froze for a moment, and he awkwardly chuckled, quickly pulling his legs back and placing his feet properly on the ground.
"Oh dear, it's a habit, a habit…" he mumbled, trying to cover it up by gulping down a large mouthful of scalding coffee, making him wince.
Miss 2B then retracted her gaze with satisfaction, placing the fried dumplings beside Chen Tian and adding some more rice for Madara.
Only the faint clinking of cutlery and chewing sounds remained in the dining room.
Dante's gaze swept across the table—to his left was his relaxed-looking nephew, Chen Tian, eating a Chinese breakfast;
To his right was his brother, Vergil, elegant in posture, as if attending a royal afternoon tea;
Diagonally opposite was Madara, eating as if performing some kind of ritual;
And weaving among them, perfectly controlling everything, was Miss 2B.
Looking at this quiet and harmonious "family portrait" breakfast scene, Dante's fingers, gripping the coffee cup, paused for a moment. A smile, tinged with nostalgia, uncontrollably spread across his lips.
"Hey," his voice was not loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears.
Chen Tian paused his chopsticks, Vergil put down his silver fork, Madara lifted his eyelids, and Miss 2B stopped serving rice.
Everyone's gaze focused on Dante.
He looked at them, his smile widening, carrying a sense of relief and warmth from having endured countless storms, and slowly said:
"I say… it's been a long time since we, the 'Sparta family,' sat together like this, enjoying a peaceful breakfast."
The Sun shone perfectly through the glass, spilling onto the dining table, illuminating the steaming food and the expressions on everyone's faces around the table.
"Yes, it has been a long time," Vergil also showed a warm smile.
Madara did not speak, simply put the natto into his bowl and stirred it.
Chen Tian smiled, propping his chin. "Unlike when we were in that small Villa before," Chen Tian gestured to the table with his eyes, "the food is much better than what we had back then."
"Hahahaha, you're right! The food back then was truly unbearable!" Dante said with a laugh.
"That's because, thanks to Mr. Dante's 'Poverty Aura,' back then, as long as Mr. Dante was present, no meal was ever perfect," Miss 2B said with a smile.
"Hey, Dante," Dante called out, displeased.
"Dante, you can't yell at the sole pillar of our family back then," Chen Tian said, teasing.
"Hahahahaha."
Laughter filled the dining room, and everyone in the room thought of the 'poor' but warm 'family moments' in that small Villa in 1995.
Bang!~
A not-too-violent but exceptionally sharp explosion in the quiet morning suddenly came from the connection point of the open kitchen!
Almost the moment the sound rang out!
The warm and peaceful atmosphere in the dining room instantly changed!
Swish swish swish swish!
The crowd, who had been relaxing and chatting just a second ago, instinctively reacted in 0.1 seconds!
Vergil was the fastest, Yamato instantly appearing in his hand, the cold blade already unsheathed an inch, a mystical blue magical aura flowing on the blade, his sharp gaze locking onto the source of the explosion like a hawk!
Madara's Reincarnation Eye instantly activated, strange ripples swirling in his eyes, he even subtly shifted his body, adopting a posture ready to launch a deadly attack at any moment!
Dante's smile vanished instantly, replaced by the vigilance and coldness forged from his demon-hunting career; his right hand darted towards his waist (though he was wearing pajamas and had no gun). His other hand instinctively shielded Chen Tian behind him, even though he knew his great-nephew didn't need it at all.
Chen Tian was the only one with the smallest range of motion; he merely put down his chopsticks, his eyes carrying a hint of annoyance at being disturbed, but also instantly locking onto the kitchen.
Miss 2B, meanwhile, stepped in front of Chen Tian, her combat goggles instantly on her eyes, their blue light flickering slightly as she entered alert mode.
Everyone's aura suddenly tensed, like a fully drawn bowstring; the air in the dining room seemed to freeze, and an invisible pressure permeated the space.
The "Sparta Family," who had just been enjoying themselves, instantly transformed into several War Machines poised for action.
However, the anticipated attack did not occur.
Only a faint wisp of acrid smoke rose from a sizzling frying pan on the kitchen stove.
In the pan, an over-"enthusiastically" fried egg, with charred and curled edges, its yolk furiously puffed up and finally exploded from overheating, lay pitifully.
"...Uh." Miss 2B was the first to react, her combat stance relaxed. She looked at the "heroically sacrificed" fried egg, a subtle, almost programmatic blush of embarrassment appearing on her face.
The tense atmosphere, like a pricked balloon, instantly deflated.
Vergil expressionlessly pushed Yamato back into its sheath and picked up his teacup again, though his movements were slightly stiff.
Madara silently deactivated his Reincarnation Eye, returning to his silent, eating ninja self, though the frequency of his natto stirring seemed to quicken slightly.
Dante's tense shoulders instantly slumped, and he exaggeratedly patted his chest.
"Whoa! You scared me to death! I thought that Old Man Darkseid had come back to life, or some idiot dared to ambush our breakfast!"
He leaned closer to the stove, looked at the tragic fried egg, his face immediately filled with schadenfreude, and turned to Miss 2B, winking:
"Tsk tsk tsk, it seems one thing hasn't changed, huh!" Dante's voice dragged out, full of teasing, "Miss 2B's unique skill of 'Gunsmoke-infused Fried Eggs' truly stands the test of time, its style still as vibrant as ever! This explosion sound is much 'gentler' than the commotion we made in the small kitchen back then; at least it didn't blow a hole in the ceiling! Hahaha!"
Miss 2B silently stared at the charred fried egg, then looked at the extremely punchable Dante who was laughing, the embarrassment on her face quickly fading, returning to calm. She walked to the stove, deftly turned off the heat, and cleaned up the mess, only her hand holding the spatula seemed to be gripping a little harder than usual.
"Yes," Vergil set down his teacup and calmly interjected, saying with a smile, "I remember that time, the flying wok almost blew through the roof."
Madara's hand paused, as if he too was immersed in a certain afternoon from memory, dominated by cooking fumes and explosions.
Chen Tian looked at Miss 2B, who was cleaning the battlefield, then at Dante, who had a mischievous smile, and sighed helplessly, picking up his chopsticks again: "Alright, alright, it's just one fried egg. Miss 2B, please give me another bowl of soy milk."
He silently pondered, perhaps he should install a higher-level explosion-proof system in the kitchen? At least it should be able to withstand Miss 2B's occasional "culinary artistic outbursts."
In the dining room, the faint clinking of cutlery resumed, occasionally interspersed with Dante's exaggerated commentary on the sacrificed fried egg and Vergil's precise retorts.
"Ah! Wednesday Supermarket Special!" Saitama's voice drifted from outside the dining room, "Eggs! Fresh produce section! Absolutely can't miss it!"
"Hey! Saitama! Wait for me! I need to buy some strawberry jam too!" Dante jumped up, a half-eaten donut in his mouth, and chased after him.
Miss 2B watched Dante disappear through the doorway, then looked at the clean traces on the stove, turned calmly, and softly asked, "Master, do you need me to re-fry a perfect egg for you?"
Chen Tian looked at Miss 2B's small face, which held a hint of persistence (and perhaps a little unwillingness to admit defeat?), and wisely chose to smile: "No need, Miss 2B, the fried dough sticks and fried dumplings are perfect. Really."
"No, Master, Miss 2B wants to fry a perfect egg for you." Miss 2B's dedication to cooking was so strong that she even contradicted Chen Tian.
"Uh… alright, as long as you're happy." Chen Tian could only lower his head and continue eating breakfast.
"Hey!! Chen Tian!!! Let's go!!! Didn't you say we were going to see that Old Man Pym?!" Tony, Chen Tian's 'savior,' poked his head in from outside the dining room.
Chen Tian heard Tony's call and, as if granted amnesty, was about to stand up and escape the dining table battlefield—
A pair of clear but exceptionally persistent blue eyes locked onto his movement. Miss 2B, who had removed her tactical goggles, had no combat sharpness in her eyes, only the stubbornness of a precision instrument locking onto its target: Your perfect fried egg is in progress.
Chen Tian's half-raised body stiffened. Meeting that undeniable gaze, he could only force out a dry, strained laugh, silently sat back down, picked up a fried dumpling, and stuffed it into his mouth, trying to chew it with a feigned relish.
Tony poked his head in, looking at the frozen atmosphere around the dining table: "Hey? What are you guys doing? Pym won't wait for us, he might run off any time."
He looked at Chen Tian, who had sat back down, then at Vergil and Madara's subtle expressions, and finally at Miss 2B, who seemed to be burning with an invisible flame in front of the stove, utterly confused.
"Mr. Stark," Miss 2B instantly put on a perfect welcoming smile, her voice clear, "Breakfast has just begun, it must have been hard. Would you like to join us? I happened to make some extra." She enthusiastically pulled out the chair next to Chen Tian.
Tony blinked, looked at Miss 2B's smile, then swept his gaze across the dining table.
Vergil elegantly sipped his tea, but his eyes desperately shot silent "Run!!!" signals at Tony.
Madara lowered his head, stirring natto so fast it was like he was performing hand seals, his peripheral vision casting a grave glance at Tony: "Don't seek death."
Chen Tian buried his face in his soy milk bowl, only his eyes visible, frantically winking and shaking his head at Tony.
Tony looked at the bizarre facial exchanges of these "Sparta" people, becoming even more confused: "Are your… eyes bothering you?" He scratched his curly hair, grinned, "Alright! I'm hungry anyway! Let's try Miss 2B's cooking!"
He sat down carelessly, ignoring the light that instantly extinguished in the eyes of the other three.
"Excellent." Miss 2B's smile seemed even brighter as she turned back to the stove. "Please wait, Mr. Tony, your fried egg will be ready shortly. And everyone else's."
This sentence was like a final judgment.
Vergil's motion of setting down his teacup stiffened slightly.
Madara stopped stirring.
Chen Tian silently pulled the rim of his bowl higher.
The dining room atmosphere instantly became solemn.
Sizzle—!
Egg liquid entered the pan.
Tony was still enthusiastic: "…That Old Man Hank's face, he really doesn't like…"
Pfft! Bang!
A puff of black smoke accompanied by a muffled thud drifted out! A charred, oddly shaped fried egg with a suspicious smell was scooped by Miss 2B onto Tony's plate.
"…" Tony's smile froze. "Uh… Miss 2B? The heat…?"
"Mr. Tony, please enjoy, it's well-done." Miss 2B said without changing her expression.
Vergil took a deep breath, forked up one of Miss 2B's 'battle-damaged' fried eggs, closed his eyes, chewed, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty, then expressionlessly gave a thumbs up: "The flavor… unique."
Madara, as if performing a ritual, picked up the same fried egg, mixed it with rice, and chewed vigorously, his Reincarnation Eye unconsciously activating. He nodded expressionlessly: "…Acceptable."
Chen Tian, meanwhile, buried his head in his food, stuffing the charred fried egg into his mouth, then simultaneously stuffing fried dough sticks and soy milk into his mouth, seemingly trying to wash away the strange taste with the delicious fried dough sticks and fried dumplings bought from outside.
His cheeks puffed out, and he mumbled indistinctly: "Delicious! Miss 2B's cooking… has improved!"
Tony looked at the bizarre scene, then at the "charcoal" on his plate, and finally understood the earlier glances! His mouth twitched, he forked a small piece of "egg meat," and with the tragic air of scientific dedication, put it into his mouth…
Crunch… Ugh… Ugh!
A taste explosion of burnt, bitter, smoky, and motor oil flavors erupted in his mouth!
Tony's face instantly twisted, veins bulging, he clapped a hand over his mouth, forcing back vomit, his face turning beet red from holding it in.
"Pfft!" Chen Tian almost spat out his soy milk.
Vergil silently drank his tea.
Madara's shoulders trembled slightly.
"Mr. Stark? How is the taste?" Miss 2B's blue eyes were full of anticipation.
Tony felt that "anticipation," then looked at Chen Tian's frantic "say something nice" glances, Vergil and Madara's silent threats…
He swallowed hard, forced out a smile uglier than crying, and gave two thumbs up: "Good! Excellent! Full of industrial power aesthetics! Crispy! Layers! Absolutely amazing! It's even more… shocking than the taste of my burnt circuit boards!"
Boom!!!
A thicker black smoke, accompanied by a loud bang, billowed up! The bacon in the pan transformed into a smoke bomb!
"Cough cough cough…" Everyone coughed.
"Miss 2B." Vergil wiped away the tears from his eyes, "This smoky bacon's… fireworks display, it has quite the Hell's Kitchen flavor." His assessment remained precise (and bizarre).
Madara silently picked up a grilled salmon, dipped it in some black particles (ash?) that had fallen into the dish, and ate it without changing his expression, as if savoring a delicacy.
Chen Tian gave up on words, offering Miss 2B a desperate, ear-to-ear "praise" smile.
Tony gave up on treatment, coughing and slapping the table as he laughed: "Hahaha! Good fireworks! Party spirit! Stark Industries explosion aesthetic! Well done, Miss 2B!"
Rumble!!!!!
This explosion was earth-shattering!
A massive, black-red mushroom cloud, emitting a sweet-and-sour burnt smell, erupted from the stove! Tomato juice mixed with charred egg liquid splattered onto the ceiling!
Several black chunks stained with dark red sauce flew in an arc, landing on Tony's brand new T-shirt chest, leaving conspicuous, steaming burnt Marks!
The dining room was instantly enveloped in thick smoke and a bizarre smell.
As the smoke cleared slightly, the stove presented a tragic sight: the frying pan was tilted, and inside, a red and black mixture sizzled.
Miss 2B's fair face was splattered with a few drops of tomato juice. She looked down at her "artwork," her gaze focused, tinged with a hint of confusion and… grievance?
Vergil looked at the charred tomato dots on the cuff of his white shirt, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly, and his hand holding the teacup tightened.
Madara silently put down his chopsticks, his Reincarnation Eye briefly losing focus.
Chen Tian closed his eyes in despair.
Tony looked down at the "tomato charcoal medal" on his chest, then at the abstract stove, then at the innocent and persistent (?) Miss 2B, and finally swept his gaze over the three faces of utter resignation…
"Wow…" Tony let out an ambiguous exclamation, his face a mix of shock, fear, and a hint of shared understanding (for the explosion?).
He suddenly stood up, pulled up the feigning-death Chen Tian, his voice more urgent than ever:
"Let's go, let's go! Chen Tian! Pym's situation is urgent! I feel like if we don't go now, he'll really leave! Immediately! Right now! NOW!!!"
He didn't even have time to wipe the stains, dragging the unsteady Chen Tian, and with almost a blink-like speed, he rushed out of the dining room battlefield in a desperate and resolute manner.
In the dining room, only black smoke, a messy stove, and three silent "survivors" remained.
After a long while, Vergil put down his teacup and softly uttered a sentence, with an almost imperceptible weariness: "…The kitchen's explosion-proof rating indeed needs to be upgraded again."
Madara silently rose, walked to the window, and gazed at the azure sea of Malibu, his silhouette desolate. His Reincarnation Eye reflected the sea and sky, as if seeking the ultimate tranquility of the Universe, trying to forget the double torment of his taste buds and mind from moments ago.
As for Miss 2B, she quietly looked at the chaotic stove, the blue light in her eyes flickering slightly as she analyzed the reasons for the "failure." Then, she picked up a new egg…
Vergil and Madara's bodies simultaneously tensed almost imperceptibly for a moment.