Tony froze.
He felt like his brain—hailed as the greatest of the century—had just crashed.
He stared at the genetic sequence model on the holographic screen, which J.A.R.V.I.S. had marked as theoretically impossible.
Then he glanced at his younger brother, whose smug expression screamed, I told you so.
Tony's proud scientific worldview felt like it had just been smashed to pieces.
"Wait, wait, let me process this." He massaged his temples, his face full of disbelief.
"You're telling me the reason you became this bullet-catching, flying freak is entirely because of… an accident? A one-off genetic mutation that can't be replicated?"
"Pretty much." Henry shrugged, sipping his wine.
"Think of me as a lottery winner. Hydra just happened to hand me the winning ticket—for free."
"So this serum—the one that made you—it's actually a failure?" Tony jabbed a finger at the screen, looking genuinely pained.
Henry studied him. Tony looked exactly like a collector who had just realized his limited-edition figurine was actually a defective model.
"From a reproducibility standpoint? Yeah. It's a failure beyond failure."
Henry nodded, then smiled, his tone flipping casually.
"But—it created me. A perfect, unique, overwhelmingly powerful success. So tell me, Tony… do you call that a success or a failure?"
"…"
Tony was speechless again.
Looking at Henry's self-satisfied expression made his fists itch.
He took a deep breath, rolled his eyes.
"Fine. Even if you're a 'successful accident,' it doesn't change the fact this thing itself is garbage."
Trying to salvage his pride, he grabbed another glass, poured wine for himself and Yinsen, and raised it.
"Come on, Yinsen. Let's drink to the glorious conclusion of ten hours of research: this serum can't be copied."
Yinsen chuckled as he accepted the glass, used to the brothers' unique brand of banter.
"But… so what if it can't be replicated?" Tony took a sip of wine, his trademark confidence sliding back into place.
"I still have my Mark armor. And besides…" He dragged out the words, throwing Henry a deliberately smug look.
"…I still remember a certain someone—starting from age eight—begging me nonstop to develop the Super Soldier Serum. Though admittedly, this one's the enhanced version."
Yinsen laughed. Henry laughed too.
"Oh, really?" Henry said mercilessly.
"Funny, I recall it differently. I remember a certain spoiled brat who couldn't even do a single pull-up. After watching a Captain America documentary, he turned green with envy and told me—"
'Hey, Henry, you gotta get me that serum! I can't let some frozen old popsicle in tights be sexier than me, the great playboy!'
"Ridiculous!" Tony barked back instantly.
"I was doing it for humanity! For technological progress! You don't get it. The Super Soldier program was wasted—buried by history. I just thought letting it rot was an insult to science!"
"Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever you say." Henry waved him off, setting down his glass and strolling casually over.
"So then—since you've now 'saved science' with this glorious invention, what's stopping you? Don't you want to experience what it feels like… to be America's Ass yourself?"
Both Tony and Yinsen froze.
"America's… Ass?" Tony's face was a giant question mark. His first thought was, of course, a woman.
"Who's that? Some new Victoria's Secret model? Got pictures?"
"An old popsicle," Henry smirked.
"Not the point. The point is—once you inject it, you'll be Seven-Times-a-Night Tony. Think about it, Tony. Seven. Imagine the way those high-class models of yours would look at you then…"
Tony's eyes lit up instantly.
This sounded like it was tailor-made for him.
"Now! Right now! Immediately!"
He nearly jumped, then quickly cleared his throat, forcing himself back into his 'aloof genius' persona. He explained stiffly to Yinsen:
"Don't get the wrong idea. This has nothing to do with that whole 'seven times' nonsense. As the lead researcher, I have a duty—a responsibility—to personally test its safety and effectiveness. This is about scientific rigor, not personal desire."
Henry and Yinsen both laughed.
"Of course, of course, we understand." Henry clapped his shoulder, smirking as he piled it on.
"Just imagine it, Tony. Everyone thinks your strength comes only from the armor. Then one day, some overconfident villain finally smashes your Mark suit, and he's about to gloat over a 'defenseless playboy'…
"…but then you step out of the wreckage, brush off the dust, grin at him, and say: Congrats, noob. You just beat my gear. Now welcome to Stage Two—Boss Fight.
"And then, with your superhuman strength, you shatter both his jaw and his ego in a single punch. He'd never recover. Tell me that wouldn't look cool?"
Tony and Yinsen stared, dumbfounded.
Tony was already imagining it.
Him, standing atop the villain's corpse, armor shattered, flames roaring in the background, and a crowd of women screaming his name…
Damn. That was way too badass.
"Ahem." He forced down the grin tugging at his lips, trying for disdain.
"You're full of nonsense. Like some second-rate comic book writer. But…"
He paused, then broke into an irrepressible grin.
"…I gotta admit, I like that image."
Without another word, he strode eagerly toward the lab's central chamber.
A sleek, silver-white metal pod awaited, hooked up to countless pipes and instruments, filled with pale blue nutrient solution.
"J.A.R.V.I.S.! Initiate Project Prometheus—no, scratch that—initiate Project America's Ass! Fill it with the best, the most expensive, the highest concentration nutrients!"
He kept muttering even as he walked in.
"Honestly, all for the sake of humanity's future, yet Henry insists on dragging it down into vulgarity. Truly an insult to my noble character."
Henry and Yinsen followed behind, wearing identical can't-wait-to-see-this smiles.
"Yep, Tony, you're the noblest," Henry said dryly.
"So noble you'd even sacrifice your kidneys in the name of science."
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alright boys as promised here's the bonus chapter, our next goal is 120 stones
Keep throwing the stones my dear readers
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