Awakening Kryptonian Bloodline In Marvel.

Chapter 33: Chapter 33: Full-on Religious Propaganda



"But I still don't understand how you managed to gain so many... loyal fans in just one night in Afghanistan?" Tony asked, waving the piece of bread in his hand.

"You mean believers?"

"Pretty much. Especially that reporter—he's constantly telling the media you're the embodiment of the Holy Spirit. The guy's a full-blown fanatic."

"You mean Abdullah... I have no idea what's going on with him. Maybe it's just the local culture?"

"I honestly thought you brainwashed him or something. You know, like Clark Kent in Superman—the guy could manipulate people's memories." Tony gestured vaguely with both hands.

"I wish I had that ability. Sounds fun," Malrick muttered.

"What a cool power! So, how'd you do it?"

"You better just want to hear the story and not start fantasizing about it."

"Ahem... where was I? Right—Abdullah. He said in an interview you saved his life?"

"Yeah, he was caught in the Jericho missile blast zone. I pulled him out and asked him to share the video—spread the message."

"So that's the guy!" Tony snapped his fingers. "He showed up in that footage you asked JARVIS to send me. No wonder he looked familiar!"

Malrick raised a brow. "You seem unusually interested in him."

"Mm-hmm!" Tony chewed noisily. "He said he was so grateful he wanted to invest everything he had in Warner stock. So I asked Pepper to acquire Warner."

Malrick blinked. "You really know how to make money."

"Don't say that. The world's obsessed with Superman right now. Since the Warner acquisition, Stark Industries stock has jumped."

"I'm more curious how you pulled off that deal. With the whole world watching DC, why would they sell?"

Tony shrugged and grabbed a napkin. "Some... other corporations and governments were putting pressure on their assets. I seized the opportunity."

"But how? You don't even sell weapons anymore."

"I'm selling this now!" Tony tapped the arc reactor on his chest. "Clean energy. Everyone wants it."

Malrick's eyes widened slightly. "You've already exposed your identity?"

Tony looked around dramatically, turned in a circle, then raised a hand like a magician revealing a trick. "Pretty much. Rhodey spilled the beans. That guy's mouth is like a leaky faucet."

Malrick didn't buy it. "Come on. Rhodey's got a sense of humor, but he's not careless. He wouldn't be working intel if he wasn't airtight."

He added, half-joking, "I think you're just jealous of all the attention Superman's getting. So you outed yourself to grab the spotlight."

Tony didn't reply. He glanced at the ceiling, slapped the crumbs off his suit, and made for the door.

"I'm just trying to take the heat off you," he called back. "With the way people are obsessing over you, someone had to step up and give them something else to talk about."

At the door, Tony paused and turned back. "By the way, I've got a press conference tomorrow. Don't forget to show up."

"..." Malrick didn't respond. He just stared blankly as Tony left.

A few seconds later, the Iron Man armor ignited with a roaring blast and launched into the sky.

"Tony... is really going to hold a press conference and announce he's Iron Man?"

Malrick gazed out the window at the Mark III disappearing into the clouds, stunned.

He had considered the possibility countless times.

In the Marvel timeline, Iron Man's reveal was always a pivotal moment. A fixed event.

No matter how many hypothetical scenarios he imagined, Tony still ended up saying those iconic words: "I am Iron Man."

Malrick had speculated on all the reasons Tony might reveal his identity—government pressure, a strategic distraction, a dramatic show of accountability.

But not because he wanted to chase clicks.

"This world is officially insane," Malrick muttered.

"Whatever. Tony's not going to die anytime soon. Let him do his thing. I've got better things to worry about—like the sun."

He stood up, dusted off his pants, tore open his shirt, transformed into Superman in a flash of light, and shot off into space.

---

S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters

Nick Fury looked like he hadn't slept in days. The dark circles under his eyes were especially pronounced—not that anyone could tell on account of his skin tone, but the fatigue was obvious.

"This is your investigation report?" he asked, setting the file down and looking at Coulson.

"There's less in here than what's been broadcast on live television. At least the local news talked to actual witnesses."

Coulson kept his gaze lowered. "Apologies, Director. Superman hasn't reappeared since that night, and we've had no luck finding new leads."

"But the broadcasted video does provide some valuable data."

As he spoke, Coulson pulled out a tablet and handed it to Fury.

Fury's brow twitched. He'd seen this routine too many times in the past week.

Still, he watched as Coulson played the now-familiar footage for the hundredth time.

The video was divided into three segments.

First: grainy footage from Abdullah's camera showing Superman intercepting a vehicle-mounted missile and tanking a Jericho missile blast.

Second: a stern proclamation from Abdullah, delivered in Superman's name.

"All foreign troops, leave the border immediately and end the occupation."

Third: full-on religious propaganda.

For a solid hour, Abdullah praised Superman as if he were divine, comparing him to prophets, trying to tie him to Allah, and preaching about his glory.

Despite having seen it repeatedly, Fury watched with intent.

The first segment—Abdullah's original footage—was still the most reliable data they had on Superman's raw combat ability. No official satellite had captured it. No government surveillance had a complete record.

This recording was all they had.

When it ended, Fury glanced at Coulson. "So? What's your assessment?"

Coulson paused before answering. "Director, based on this footage, Superman's speed and durability are far beyond any known human—or weapon—on Earth."

"Whether he's the Superman from comic books or not, the power he's shown makes one thing clear: our best move is diplomacy. Keep him calm. Keep him friendly."

Fury nodded slightly, fingers brushing the worn pager clipped to his belt.

"You think he's a threat? A radical type? Should we prepare for containment?"

"Containment?" Coulson blinked. "Director, we don't have any means of containment. Not for him."

Fury's expression darkened as he looked again at the pager.

"But if we did… would you recommend using it?"

---


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