Awakening Kryptonian Bloodline In Marvel.

"Wow, it's finally starting. Jarvis, make sure you're recording."

At the edge of the crowd, Malrick stood with a bucket of popcorn, watching the press conference unfold like it was a blockbuster premiere. He had just returned from space, but this—this was prime entertainment.

Even if the timeline was a little off, watching a major Marvel event live had its own kind of thrill.

"Mr. Malrick, you seem quite interested in Mr. Stark's speech today?"

A voice suddenly spoke up beside him.

Malrick turned, brow furrowed, prepared to walk away—but paused.

"Who are you...?"

The man's face was familiar. Middle-aged, wearing a suit, slightly balding, with a mild and unthreatening smile.

Phil Coulson.

Wasn't this the guy who idolized Captain America?

"My name is Phil Coulson. Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division," he said, handing Malrick a card with a friendly nod.

Malrick took it with a smirk. "What a mouthful. What do you want with me?"

"We're an independent division, separate from the FBI and CIA. We'd like to ask you about some recent activity in the Middle East."

Malrick glanced at the card, then handed it back. "You're asking the wrong guy. Tony's about to explain everything up there. Just pay attention."

Coulson looked toward the stage, surprised. He had a feeling something big was coming.

"Thank you," he said, nodding politely before walking away and pulling out a communicator.

—

"Well... lately, I'm sure you've all been paying attention to what's been going on in the Middle East."

Tony Stark stood at the podium, flipping through pages of a speech before tossing them aside.

"There are armed militias running wild with weapons they didn't build. Civilians are dying."

He paused, letting that hang in the air.

"Obadiah Stane was the one secretly selling them the weapons."

Gasps and murmurs spread across the room.

"Yeah. He's gone now. But the guns? Still out there."

A reporter raised a hand. "Are you talking about the Ten Rings—the group that kidnapped you and was destroyed by Superman?"

Tony choked slightly.

"Well, it's... sort of. The details are different."

Of course. Reporters always found a way to bring everything back to Superman.

Sighing, Tony cut to the chase. "Most of the Ten Rings' operations are based in the Middle East."

(Afghanistan, to be specific.)

"Recently, a man in steel armor appeared there. He wiped out a lot of those terrorists."

"People are calling him a hero."

Tony paused, looked down for a beat, then said, "He's made mistakes—plenty. He's not perfect. But if you still think he's a hero…"

Another reporter interrupted: "You mean that Iron Man guy who's copying Superman? You know him?"

Tony stared at the guy.

For a long moment.

Then he stepped forward and said, "That's Iron Man. Not some knockoff."

"And I am Iron Man."

Silence.

Everyone just stared, thinking Tony was trying to make a joke.

A few people gave awkward laughs, trying to play along.

The only person who genuinely laughed was Malrick—loud, amused, and unapologetic.

Tony's jaw tightened.

He exhaled sharply, then stepped back and raised his hands. Twin bracelets shimmered on his wrists.

"Jarvis."

BOOM.

An armored flight capsule burst in from outside, zipping over the reporters' heads.

Gasps and screams filled the room as the armor disassembled midair and locked onto Tony.

"I am Iron Man."

The faceplate snapped shut, pieces clicked into place with mechanical precision.

Now fully suited up, Tony stood in gleaming red-and-gold glory.

Everyone froze.

The reporters, stunned.

The world, shifted.

Hundreds of hands shot up at once, shouting questions over each other in a frenzied wave.

—

That Evening...

"You know," Malrick said, pushing open the door to the mansion, "next time just wear the armor to the press conference. Would've saved you the hassle."

After the media storm, Pepper had dragged both Tony and Malrick into meetings the entire day.

Paperwork. Endless stacks of it.

Malrick's enhanced brain felt like it might short-circuit.

He made a mental note: once all the widow agents were rescued, Natasha could run the network company. She had the skill and the grit—and clearly loved the challenge.

Handling billion-dollar transactions daily? That had to be fulfilling.

As for organizing the next stage? Yelena would handle that.

She needed the responsibility. She'd grow from it.

Malrick smiled. It was the right move. Win-win.

Still, working after reincarnating? Not what he signed up for. He didn't cross over just to go back to 9-to-5s.

Right now, he wanted nothing more than a hot meal and some peace.

But the moment he walked in, he stopped.

Tony's voice came from behind. "So you really think that? You laughed louder than anyone!"

Then he noticed Malrick wasn't moving.

"What is it? Why'd you stop?"

Tony peeked around.

Standing by the massive French window was a man in a long black trench coat, staring silently out at the ocean.

That silhouette. That vibe.

"Nick Fury?" Malrick muttered.

"Jarvis?" Tony called.

"Welcome home, Mr. Stark. Welcome back, Master Malrick," Jarvis responded.

Tony noticed part of the security feed was disabled. "Looks like electromagnetic shielding. Impressive."

He looked at Malrick. "So what now?"

Malrick snapped his fingers. "Jarvis. Use the armor to blast the guy by the window."

"Understood, Master."

"Wait—! Hold on!"

Nick Fury spun around in a panic.

"I'm Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick—"

Before he could finish, a red-and-blue suit flew up the stairs.

Its repulsors charged, ready to fire.

"Oh hell—I'll come back later!"

Fury leapt backward through the shattered window, parachuting off the cliff just before the armor's energy blast tore past.

"Nice shot," Tony muttered, watching the parachute open below.

"That guy's something else. Just like you said."

Malrick stepped beside him. "Jarvis, let's upgrade your firewall. We can't have random people walking in."

"If I use the Sky Fortress host, I should be immune to such interference."

"Oh? So now you're making upgrade requests?" Malrick smirked. "Fine. You earned it."

Tony turned to him. "By the way, if your Widow agents hadn't been snooping around yesterday, we never would've found the Red Room."

"Why didn't you stop them?"

"Because I wanted to be sure of something," Malrick said, blowing the window debris off the ledge with a puff of air.

"I needed intel. That's why I didn't interfere."

"What kind of intel?"

"Classified."

"You're keeping secrets from me now? Or were you just into her?" Tony grinned.

"Well… there's that too," Malrick shrugged. "Just a mistake all men are destined to make."

Tony raised an eyebrow, then nodded thoughtfully.

"…Fair point."

---

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