Outside New York, in a deserted factory.
Happy Hogan leaned wearily against the car, holding—of course—a giant bag of hamburgers. Again.
Bang!
A metallic thud echoed across the concrete.
Happy whipped his head around and froze. There, standing beside a silver-white armored figure, was Tony Stark. Alive. Beaten up, exhausted—but alive.
Happy's eyes filled with tears. He lifted the greasy bag in his hand like a sacred offering.
"Boss… I got your favorite hamburgers."
Nothing else in the world mattered in that moment. Not the mysterious silver armor, not the cocky stranger beside it. His whole universe narrowed to Tony Stark.
After two hours of being carried like luggage through the sky, Tony's legs immediately wobbled the second he hit the ground.
He staggered, nearly collapsing, before Happy rushed in and caught him in his arms.
The embrace was so dramatic, so operatic, that Finnian instinctively took three steps back.
"Jesus. That's true love."
Pepper, still crouched behind the wall, nearly gave herself away. If she didn't come out now, Tony might actually elope with his driver.
Finnian cleared his throat. "Ahem. Mr. Stark. Commission fee, please."
Money wasn't shameful. Money was survival.
Tony, still leaning against Happy like they were reenacting a K-drama finale, pulled out his phone. "Alright, what's your account number?"
Happy handed it over. Tony transferred with the kind of flourish only a billionaire could manage—turning a wire transfer into a flex.
Ding!
"Your Garden Bank account ending in 9527 has received 5,000,000. Current balance: 5,009,620."
Finnian gave a mock bow. "Boss is generous. Until next time."
Before anyone could blink, the White Can Armor blasted off into the night sky, leaving nothing but contrails behind.
Tony tilted his head back, chewing his burger. "Happy, where the hell did you find this guy? He's… kinda handsome."
Happy blinked. "Boss, I don't know him. I just called Five Million."
"Five Million?"
"Yeah. After you went missing, a lawyer friend gave me his number…"
Tony listened to the full explanation, stroking his goatee. His eyes narrowed. He already had his own theory about who was hiding under that shiny white mask.
"Kid," he muttered. "No matter how you dress it up—you're still too young."
Somewhere, Finnian smirked inside his helmet. Boss, if I didn't bait you like this, you'd never bite.
Tony crushed the last of his hamburger. "Happy. Contact the media. I'm holding a press conference."
The kidnapping had changed him. For the first time, Tony Stark wanted to do more than build toys. He wanted to change the world—starting by shutting down Stark Industries' weapons division.
It was a simple idea. But the first step in a revolution always was.
Meanwhile, at the Murdock Law Firm.
Finnian lounged on the second floor, dumping the shiny new five million straight into his system account. Then he opened the store.
[Celestial Body – Price: $8 Billion]
[Bedroom Arts: How to Become a Revolving King – Price: $500]
[0.1% Discount Super Sale: Perfect Spider Serum – Become Spider-Man without the spider bite! Only $5 Million]
Finnian nearly fell out of his chair.
"Holy shit. Jackpot."
Everyone knew Peter Parker got his powers from a radioactive spider bite.
But behind the science was something older and darker—the Spider-Totem, mystical predator magic that made him prey to the Inheritors.
But this serum? This was the cheat code. All the powers, none of the mystical baggage. Pure Spider-Man, no cosmic stalkers included.
Without a second's hesitation, Finnian slammed the buy button and jabbed the serum straight into his arm.
The effect was immediate. His body went through visible, violent second puberty. Muscles bulged, veins lit up, clothes stretched to near-tearing.
Especially certain… already gifted parts of his body. Now somehow more… majestic.
He looked down, deadpan. "Oh. That explains why it was in the same category as Revolving King."
Five hundred bucks for that book? Absolutely affordable.
"Purchase."
Ding!
"Revolving King acquired."
A flood of… very specific techniques poured into his brain like cursed IKEA instructions.
Finnian grinned. Ex-girlfriends, you're in trouble.
Within minutes, his account was back at zero. The eight-billion-dollar Celestial Body remained a cruel taunt. Out of reach. For now.
Out of sight, out of mind.
He shut the interface.
Poverty, he realized, was the mother of madness.
He had lived cautiously before, but now? With Spider powers layered over Daredevil's senses and Iron Man's tech? He was a walking Avengers Starter Pack.
If the Ten Rings could snatch Tony Stark, why couldn't he snatch a billionaire or two and call it "fundraising"?
His grin widened. This was celestial-level thinking. Thanos-level. Hell, I could probably bully Thanos into calling me Daddy.
Then the system's voice cut in:
[Warning. Robbery and kidnapping are illegal acts and cannot be used for recharge. System update incoming.]
Finnian froze. Then exploded.
"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"
For the first time, he had found a shortcut to godhood—and the damn system nerfed him.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
How the hell was he supposed to become invincible at this rate?
The system beeped again.
[Compensation: One 10% Discount Coupon. Applicable to all items.]
Finnian blinked. "...I take it back. Sorry for yelling."
He pocketed the coupon. Mood whiplash was his new normal. Lighting a cigar, he tried to calm down—only to accidentally crush the entire metal case in his bare hand.
"Fuck. Guess no sparring with the ex-tonight. Don't wanna break their p***y by accident."
After a long shower to cool down, he headed back downstairs. If he couldn't scam the system, he'd need allies. Nuclear-powered ones. Time to recruit.
Because Tony Stark? Yeah, he was going to come crawling back sooner or later.
Scientists were addicts, especially Tony-level addicts. And once Stark started on the Mark Armor, he'd definitely need Finnian.
The cash would flow.
Back in New York, the world was reeling.
Tony Stark—missing for a month—had returned, alive, and ready to face the press.
Inside S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, Nick Fury sat behind his desk, fuming.
"What did you just say? Stark was rescued by his driver?"
Phil Coulson kept his face perfectly neutral. "That's the report, sir."
Fury slammed his palm on the desk. "Coulson, are you shitting me? The U.S. military searched. The FBI searched. My best S.H.I.E.L.D. teams searched for weeks. And it was a goddamn chauffeur who got him back?"
Coulson said nothing.
Fury's one good eye narrowed. Instincts screamed. Something about this story stank.
"Fine. Then bring me this driver's file. Now."