As Joseph predicted, Tony eventually managed to defeat the whip-wielding maniac, Ivan Vanko.
However, it took him far longer than the three minutes he had confidently boasted about. Ivan, a twisted genius of a scientist, was nowhere near Tony in terms of mastering high-tech armor. But those electrical whips? They were a completely different beast.
Even the mighty Iron Man had nearly been humiliated on the battlefield.
If it weren't for the sudden boost of energy granted by Tony's new arc reactor—and the massive upgrades to the Mark 6 suit's weapon systems—it was entirely possible that the outcome of that fight would've been reversed.
When the chaos finally settled, Tony dragged his battle-worn body back to Stark Tower. His steps were heavy, his breathing shallow. The night had drained him, both physically and mentally.
Then, with a sudden whoosh and a ripple of spatial distortion, a familiar figure appeared mid-air.
"You done playing hero?" Joseph said with a smirk, materializing effortlessly before Tony. "Didn't you say three minutes? I've been waiting nearly thirty."
Tony's face flushed slightly. He gave a sheepish shrug. "Okay, I admit it... the guy was a bit tougher than expected."
Mechanical arms extended from the nearby support unit and began disassembling the Mark 6 armor with practiced ease. Tony groaned as he rubbed his lower back. "His arc reactor tech is primitive compared to mine, but he focused all his output on the whips. They packed a punch!"
With a snap of Joseph's fingers, a warm white magical light enveloped Tony's body. In an instant, the aches, stiffness, and accumulated fatigue melted away. All the soreness from the past few sleepless nights and tonight's brutal fight vanished like smoke.
Tony blinked. "You can heal too? Just like that?"
Joseph gave a casual shrug. "Basic healing spell."
Tony stared at him for a moment, jaw slack. "You pop in and out of space like a ghost, and now you're telling me you can magically remove pain? Damn... magic's unfair."
Joseph chuckled and summoned two glasses of red wine, offering one to Tony. "You might want to rethink your tech-only approach. Ivan's whips gave you trouble, right? Maybe it's time you added a little cold weapon flair to your arsenal."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Cold weapons? Like swords and stuff?"
"Exactly. Your offense is heavily reliant on ranged firepower. All those repulsors and rockets are flashy, but you're not exactly versatile. What happens when you run out of energy or face someone immune to energy attacks?"
Tony took a thoughtful sip from his glass, then nodded slowly. "You've got a point. Maybe I should try building an alloy blade. Something badass. Imagine Iron Man swooping in with a greatsword strapped to his back... think it'd ruin the image?"
Joseph laughed. "I think it'd enhance it. You could even dual-wield—an alloy sword for brute force and a magical sword for special encounters. Two swords, two styles. Sounds pretty cinematic to me."
Tony chuckled at the mental image. "You mean like that Witcher guy? Geralt the White Wolf? I don't know if the world is ready for Iron Man: Medieval Edition."
"You'd be surprised. Give it a test. Run some polls. Worst case, you waste some money."
Tony raised his glass again. "It's a deal. If I end up designing one, I'll come to you for the magic part."
They clinked glasses, and Tony emptied his. But as soon as it was drained, the wine inside replenished itself slowly, climbing back up to the brim.
Tony stared at it, stunned. "Okay, I officially hate magic. Makes everything else feel... cheap."
Joseph grinned but then noticed Tony's expression shift from amusement to something more serious.
"So... the chaos tonight—Vanko's appearance, the riot—it was all connected to you, wasn't it?" Tony asked slowly. "You're a Mutant, right?"
Joseph didn't flinch. "Yes."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "You're just admitting it? No denial, no secrecy?"
"There's no point in hiding it. You would've figured it out anyway."
Tony exhaled deeply. "So you knew Vanko would show up at the Hammer Expo? And those Mutants—Storm and the rest—saving people... that was part of the plan?"
Joseph tilted his head. "Yes and no. I knew Vanko had something planned, but we weren't certain when he'd strike. The Expo was the most likely target. And yes, Storm and the others were positioned there intentionally."
"So... you orchestrated a rescue operation," Tony mused, his tone slowly morphing into a mix of awe and realization. "You let them save lives, to change public perception... to soften the divide between Mutants and everyone else."
Joseph didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Tony looked away, then back again. "You could've joined the fight. You didn't. Logan was badly hurt..."
Joseph cut him off gently. "Logan wasn't really hurt. That was an illusion."
Tony's jaw dropped. "An illusion? You mean... that whole brutal injury was fake?"
Joseph met his eyes seriously. "The danger was real. The chaos, the explosions, the Iron Soldiers going rogue—that was all genuine. People were nearly killed. The X-Men risked their lives, Tony. None of that was fake."
Tony leaned back, wine glass in hand, his thoughts racing. "So you... you created a moment. A show of Mutants risking their lives. A display of heroism to win over the public."
Joseph didn't argue. The truth spoke for itself.
Tony let out a low whistle. "You're not just a magician—you're a marketing genius. You've basically packaged and promoted the X-Men like a brand. Mutants as heroes. You're flipping the narrative."
He narrowed his eyes slightly. "So this whole time, I've been working with a Mutant?"
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"I'm not judging," Tony replied quickly. "Just... surprised. Why didn't you hide any of this from me?"
Joseph set down his wine. "Because there's nothing to hide. The vast majority of Mutants aren't villains. They're just people—people who've been hunted, feared, and marginalized. Helping them be seen differently helps everyone."
Tony nodded slowly. "Fair point. But still... full transparency? Not even a little secrecy?"
Joseph gave him a strange look. "Tony... who said we were just partners?"
Tony blinked. "Wait, what?"
"There's something else you should know," Joseph continued. "Not all Mutants shoot lasers from their eyes or fly through the air. In fact, the most common type of Mutants—Delta-level—don't look any different from ordinary people. Their abilities are subtle. Enhanced strength, heightened speed... or an extraordinary mind."
Tony frowned, processing the words. "Are you implying...?"
"Think about your father, Tony. Howard Stark."
Tony's expression shifted.
Joseph's voice grew more thoughtful. "Decades ago, in a world where technology was still primitive, your father developed the original arc reactor, mapped out new elements, and laid the foundation for tech a hundred years ahead of its time. Genius doesn't begin to describe it."
"A genius is someone who's a step ahead. What do you call someone who's a hundred steps ahead?"
Tony stayed silent.
"Have you ever wondered if... Howard Stark was a Mutant?" Joseph asked, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "That maybe his brilliance wasn't just luck or hard work? That maybe you inherited something more than just ambition?"
It hit Tony like a lightning bolt.
He stared into space, stunned. His mind reeled.
My father... a Mutant? And if I inherited his brain... then does that mean... I'm a Mutant too?
His lips moved slowly, voice barely audible.
"Holy crap..."
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