What does supersonic flight feel like?
Henry felt he could now write a detailed essay of no less than eight thousand words to elaborate.
Firstly, the wind was fierce. If his current physical condition wasn't so absurdly powerful, he suspected his face would be torn into a tattered flag flapping in the wind.
Secondly, the visibility was blurry. The surrounding scenery was dragged into long, colourful streaks of light, like a bad movie on fast-forward.
"Great, this is much more exciting than taking a private jet," Henry mused internally. "It's just a bit rough on the clothes."
He glanced down at his already-tattered lab coat, which was now reduced to a few practically useless strips of cloth due to the friction of supersonic speed. This made him look like a performance artist who had just run out of the Beggars' Clan annual meeting after performing the feat of smashing a boulder on his chest.
"I bet if a plane flew by right now, the pilot would think they saw an unidentified flying object! A flashing UFO exhibitionist! I've already come up with tomorrow's headline."
Shock! Naked Flying Man Appears Over New York, Suspected to be the Latest Bizarre Behaviour of an Alien!
No, that would damage the Stark family's reputation.
While complaining, he tried to control his flight posture. This thing was much harder than driving a sports car. There was no steering wheel, no accelerator, just a reliance on some kind of mysterious, intangible will. He felt like a novice who had just gotten his license and immediately started racing an F1 car, nearly crashing into the clouds several times due to excessive power.
"Calm down, Henry, calm down. You're a genius. Think of this as a new physics model: Will is a vector, and power is a scalar."
"Screw the physics model! This is fundamentally unscientific!"
He lost control for a moment, spiralled in the air, and almost performed a full Thomas flair. The wind slashed at his face like knives; although it couldn't injure him, it was very uncomfortable.
Most importantly, he was lost. In the vastness of the world, he was like a factory-new drone without a navigation module. He could only rely on the direction of the sun to roughly gauge the direction and charge forward.
"Seriously, couldn't Hydra's serum come with a built-in GPS? So inhumane." He complained internally while struggling to adjust his flight posture.
After struggling for more than ten minutes in the air, he finally managed to master the technique of stable flight.
Now, he needed to solve two pressing problems.
First, figure out exactly where he was.
Second, find some decent clothes to wear.
He lowered his altitude, skimming over a dense forest. Soon, a winding asphalt road appeared in his vision, and a red Ferrari sports car was cruising leisurely on it.
"Oh, perfect target."
Henry's eyes lit up. He landed silently in the middle of the road in front of the Ferrari like a precision-guided missile.
"Screeeech!"
A piercing screech of brakes shattered the tranquillity of the countryside. The Ferrari stopped barely half a meter away from him.
The driver, a sleek, well-dressed, rich second generation, tentatively poked his head out, ready to unleash his extensive vocabulary of swear words. But the moment he clearly saw Henry, he swallowed every word.
The man in front of him was over six-foot-three, with muscles as smooth as an ancient Greek sculpture, only a few rags wrapped around his waist. Moreover, the man was looking at him expressionlessly, like he was looking at an idiot.
The sight was highly impactful.
Who was this guy? A reality TV star on a Naked and Afraid challenge? Or a lunatic who had popped out of some gym on drugs? Those muscles were too exaggerated.
"Sir, uh... do you need any help?" the rich kid asked tremblingly, his hand subtly reaching for the phone on the passenger seat.
"Of course," Henry said, walking to the car door with an undeniable tone. "I need a set of clothes and your phone, just to use it." He pointed to the jacket the rich kid was wearing, which looked expensive. "That one will do. The taste is questionable, but it's better than what I have on."
The rich kid's face turned pale. "Are you robbing me?"
"Robbing you?" Henry raised an exaggerated eyebrow, as if he'd heard a massive joke. "Young man, couldn't your imagination be more impoverished? Do you think I need to rob you?"
Well, his current appearance did make it look a lot like a robbery.
He cleared his throat and put on the signature arrogant expression of the Stark family. "Listen, my name is Henry Stark. My private jet had a slight malfunction. Now, I need to borrow your clothes and phone for an urgent matter. Leave your contact information. Tomorrow, my assistant will send you a brand-new car, and a better-configured one at that, plus a sum for emotional damages to keep your mouth shut. Understood?"
The rich kid was dizzy from the barrage of words, and the name Henry Stark made him pause. He scrutinized Henry's face. Although the man looked dishevelled, the outline of his features did bear a resemblance to the young Stark genius who frequently appeared on the covers of finance magazines.
Stark? The missing Playboy genius? He actually escaped? Judging by his physique, the rumours that the Starks were weaklings seem to be false.
"Are you really Henry Stark?"
"The genuine article." Henry waved his hand impatiently. "Hurry up, I'm in a rush. Or would you prefer that I borrow them in a more direct way?"
A few minutes later, Henry, wearing a slightly ill-fitting Armani jacket, leaned against the Ferrari door and called Pepper.
The phone rang for a long time before it was answered by Pepper's capable voice, though it now carried a hint of fatigue and anxiety.
"Hello?"
"Pepper, darling, it's me." Henry held the phone between his shoulder and ear, speaking in a casual tone. "Guess which party I snuck out of?"
There was a full five seconds of silence on the other end.
"Henry?!" Pepper's voice immediately shot up, filled with surprise. "Oh my God! You're alive! Oh, I didn't mean that! I mean... where are you? You've been missing for two whole weeks! We've been going crazy!"
Pepper felt like her heart hadn't been well these past few days. God, he's back! He's really back! Thank goodness! Wait, why does his voice sound so normal?
"Relax, Pepper." Henry chuckled. "I just went to experience life a little. How should I put it? The service was terrible, no champagne, no beautiful women. I won't be patronizing them again. By the way, where's my brother? That narcissist hasn't secretly sold the company while I was gone, has he?"
Henry knew where Tony was, but he asked anyway.
"Tony... he's in trouble," Pepper's voice dropped. "He was attacked by a group of terrorists in Afghanistan and, like you, he's missing."
Henry took a deep breath. Although he already knew the outcome, hearing the news from Pepper's mouth made his heart sink. He knew it. That idiot, even with the Armor, still managed to get himself lost. Always a handful.
"I see." His voice became calm. "What about Obadiah? Has he been stirring up trouble?"
"Mr. Obadiah is in Washington for a meeting and is not currently at the company. Henry, please come back immediately, the company is in chaos!"
"I'm on my way back now!" Henry cut her off. "Listen, Pepper, I need you to do a few things for me. First, immediately contact Happy and have him secretly investigate all of Obadiah's recent financial transactions and communication records, regardless of the cost. Especially those related to his shell companies, and any clues connected to the Middle East. I suspect that both attacks on me and Tony's attacks are related to him."
Pepper gasped on the other end of the phone. Mr. Obadiah? How could that be! He had watched Henry grow up. But Henry wouldn't make such a claim lightly; though he loved to joke, he was always serious about business. This was extremely serious.
"Henry, this..."
"No time to explain, Pepper. Trust me." Henry's tone was decisive.
"Second, you personally check with the military to see if they have the exact coordinates of Tony's disappearance in Afghanistan—any intelligence will do. Third, and most important: do not let anyone know I contacted you, especially Obadiah. I'll be back soon."
"Okay, I'll get right on it. But where are you?"
Henry looked at the rich kid next to him and asked, "Hey, buddy, where is this? Which direction is the Stark Malibu villa?"
The rich kid was stunned by the exchange and instinctively pointed west: "Get on the highway from here and keep driving west. It'll probably, probably take a long time..."
"Got it," Henry said into the phone. "I'll be at the company soon, Pepper."
With that, he tossed the phone and the rich kid's wallet back to him. "Thanks, buddy. Someone will contact you about your compensation tomorrow."
Before the rich kid could react, Henry slightly bent his knees. Then, with a muffled sonic boom, he shot into the sky, instantly disappearing into the clouds.
The rich kid stood with his mouth wide open, the phone and wallet clattering to the ground. He rubbed his eyes and then severely pinched himself.
"Did... did I forget to pray before leaving home today?"