bioinnovel Chapter 282 [3 Chapters Combined] You call this thing a villain?!
Chapter 282 [3 Chapters Combined] You call this thing a villain?!
"All done, boss. The process was legal, and we were treated fair and honest... Considering how hard we've worked, shouldn't you treat us to a big meal today?"
Before long, as the group disappeared, the suffocating aura of defeat dissipated.
Riley then whistled softly, and the small badge twirled nimbly on his fingertip before disappearing as if by magic.
With his hands free, and seemingly by some strange twist of fate, he used his flexibility to lean back almost ninety degrees, achieving a scene reminiscent of a famous scene from a certain "genius rabbit" TV series. He then chuckled and teased Tony, who had been standing there dumbfounded since receiving the documents from Obadiah.
Let's go out for barbecue tonight!!!
As Riley spoke, the oppressive aura that Riley had previously seemed to subtly project vanished completely.
His tone was so relaxed, as if what he had just resolved was not a power shift in a business empire, but merely a minor dispute caused by some insignificant street thug, as was the case with others.
Tony did not respond immediately.
His gaze remained fixed on the thin document in his hand.
As you rub your fingers together, you can almost feel an immense pressure emanating from this thin document.
The bold black lettering on the cover felt like a branding iron, searing into Tony's retina.
Statement and Legal Confirmation Regarding Mr. Obadiah Stanislav's Unconditional Transfer of All His Stark Industries Shares to Mr. Tony Stark
In the signature section, there was Obadiah Stanislavsky's familiar, strong, and powerful handwriting.
There are no fancy embellishments, no lengthy clauses.
Only the most direct and unreserved gifts.
Clearly, for this elderly man who didn't talk much and didn't know how to express his feelings...
The shares he owned were the only form of compensation he could imagine after being absent from Tony's life for ten years.
In an instant, a surge of uncontrollable heat rushed to Tony's eyes. A stinging sensation quickly spread, and his vision blurred.
Tony blinked hard, almost fiercely, his long eyelashes brushing against his lower eyelids, leaving a slight stinging sensation.
He mustered every last bit of willpower to barely suppress the untimely, almost overwhelming, bittersweet feeling deep within his heart.
When he looked up again, Tony Stark's signature sharp, cynical smile was back on his handsome face.
It was as if that moment of vulnerability had never existed.
His and Riley's playful glances briefly met in mid-air.
Only after receiving a slight nod from Riley, who deliberately stepped back a few paces to give Tony and Obadiah enough space to talk, did they finally stop.
With mixed feelings, Tony walked heavily towards Obadiah.
At that moment, Obadiah was also looking at Tony.
Those eyes, which, despite having endured betrayal, imprisonment, and bloody slaughter, remained as sharp as a hawk's and seemed capable of piercing through people's hearts, now held a complex and indescribable emotion.
A weary shadow hung lightly over his eyes.
Those are the marks left by ten years of inhuman imprisonment and today's ruthless methods.
The sense of relief is like a reef exposed after the tide recedes, hard and calm.
But at the deepest part of these complex emotions, what keeps rising is a profound and weighty feeling that Tony is extremely familiar with, yet has been away from for a long time.
It is a kind of protection and entrustment that needs no words.
It was as if the person standing in front of him was another father.
As heavy as a mountain, as calm as the deep sea.
"Obi..."
Tony spoke, his voice slightly hoarse.
He intended to continue his stubbornness and bravado, arming himself with his usual cynical armor and spouting platitudes like, "Even without your two old guys' help, I can handle those traitors!"
But when he actually stood before Obadiah and met those weathered yet unwavering grey-blue eyes up close, all the lines he had prepared stuck in his throat.
He reached out his hand without the slightest hesitation.
It wasn't a polite handshake, nor a casual pat on the shoulder.
He gripped Obadiah's wrist directly, forcefully, almost grasping it tightly. Obadiah's wrist, which had just been wiped clean of Skrull's green blood, was now visibly red, swollen, bruised, and even somewhat deformed at the knuckles.
He could clearly feel the temperature of the skin under his palm, and the instantaneous, reflexive tension in the muscles of the other person's arm.
That was an instinctive reaction to endure excruciating pain.
Tony's fingertips could even touch the skin beneath, the tiny bone contours slightly dislocated from the violent blows.
Obadiah did not pull his hand back, nor did he frown in pain.
He just stood there quietly, letting Tony hold him tightly.
A moment later, he raised his other, relatively intact hand and patted Tony's hand, which was gripping his wrist tightly, with a heavy, relieved force, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
"Smack."
The sound of that slap wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet conference room.
There were no sentimental words, no excessive explanations.
This single gesture speaks volumes.
It is a farewell to the past, a reaffirmation of trust, a promise to the future, and a silent comfort from elders to younger generations.
"Don't worry, Tony..."
"I'm back."
Tony felt the steady strength and the roughness of the palm on the back of his hand.
His Adam's apple bobbed again as he took a deep breath, as if trying to inhale all the lingering gloom and heaviness in the air into his lungs before exhaling it completely.
He loosened his grip on Obadiah's wrist, but the strength seemed to linger on his skin, bringing a strange sense of security.
He turned around, his cynical smile fading slightly, and his sharp gaze swept over the messy conference room.
Finally, the gaze fell upon Riley, who was leaning against Steve, having quietly deactivated his suit and revealed himself as a middle-aged man with a satisfied and contented smile on his lips, genuinely happy for Tony.
"Railley".
Tony's voice regained its usual clarity and strength, tinged with a genuine smile.
"Well done this time..."
He paused, then added.
"Barbecue is no problem. I know a well-regarded barbecue restaurant called Sawama. Although I haven't tried it yet, it seems worth a try."
Halfway through his sentence, Tony suddenly took a few steps forward and grabbed Happy, who was about to quietly leave so as not to disturb this heartwarming scene, as the meeting was about to end.
Then, he naturally hooked his arm around the shoulder of his good brother, who knew nothing about the truth but had always stood by him, and put aside his usual boss-like attitude, and said in a serious tone.
"Of course, everything today will be on Mr. Happy's plate! Consider it a celebration of his promotion!"
"Wow! The boss is so generous! Thank you, happy boss—!"
No sooner had Tony finished speaking than Riley clapped his hands in approval, supporting Tony's decision, before Happy, who was still looking bewildered, could even respond.
At this moment, Riley's face showed no trace of the great and glorious image that a superhero should have.
Some people just rub their hands together, displaying a smug look of having "successfully knocked down a bamboo pole."
However, Riley had a strange, uneasy feeling about the shawarma barbecue that Tony mentioned. The name seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite place where he'd heard it before...
but……
Who cares! It's not like I have to pay for it myself!
It's already a free, unlimited lunch, what more could you want!
What's more, this is a restaurant personally recommended by Tony, a wealthy man with discerning palates. How bad could the food be?
Seeing Riley act like a child despite his middle-aged appearance, Tony, who was initially in a somber mood, was immediately amused.
A low laugh echoed in the empty conference room, dispelling the last trace of gloom.
"Deal. You and Happy can go to the restaurant to order first."
He stopped smiling, turned his gaze to Obadiah, and his tone became unquestionable.
"And you, Obby, come with me to the medical center. Immediately, right now."
His gaze fell on Obadiah's horribly mangled hands, and no matter how hard he tried to hide his true feelings, he couldn't help but reveal his deep heartache and self-reproach.
"I'll handle this personally. If the future strategic advisor of Stark Industries can't even hold a pen properly, it'll be a huge joke if word gets out."
This time, Obadiah did not refuse.
Unlike ten years ago, he didn't dare to expose his vulnerable side in order to protect Tony, and always emphasized that "this little injury is nothing".
He didn't put on airs like an elder and lecture Tony endlessly.
He simply nodded slightly, watching with satisfaction as the child he had carefully nurtured in the past grew into an outstanding pillar of the company, accepting this concern that came with a tough exterior.
He straightened his still broad spine, which seemed capable of supporting the entire sky. With Tony's support, he took his first steps and headed towards the door.
His steps were steady and powerful, carrying a composure that showed he had survived many hardships without being affected in the slightest.
It was as if the harrowing power purge and the excruciating pain in my hands were just a trivial episode in the long course of my life.
Watching the two figures walk away, Riley chose not to follow.
In fact, even without using the power of the Horse Talisman, Riley could easily restore Obadiah's minor injury to its original state using Silly Girl's healing abilities.
But Riley also understood that after a ten-year separation, the two, who were both extremely awkward and concerned about their image, would definitely need a reason to avoid everyone and say something private that only the two of them knew.
Therefore, after a brief moment of observation, Riley's lips curled into an elusive smile.
He then stretched out his hands, one on each side, hooking them around Steve and Happy respectively. Acting as a middleman, introducing the two to each other, he then moved with light steps, gradually disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.
At this point, the previously chaotic meeting room became completely quiet.
The huge projection screen was off, and the dim, cold light illuminated the mess in the conference room.
The scattered, torn-together impeachment resolutions, like white snowflakes, covered the dried, dark green Skrull bloodstains.
The stark color contrast is like the dirtiest yet most vivid mark of an era coming to an end.
The Skrulls, barely clinging to life, were taken to District 13 and given a proper "welcome" by lurking ninja soldiers long before the New York police intervened and drew everyone's attention.
The pungent, fishy smell of rust and decaying plants seemed to have finally been completely dispelled by the powerful airflow of the central air conditioning.
For a moment, only the cold scent of disinfectant and expensive leather remained in the conference room.
And the Mark II and the Iron Monger, who thought they would become the main characters when they forcibly broke in, are now just like decorations, "abandoned" here all alone.
Outside the window, the New York skyline gleamed with the cold, hard luster of metal and glass under the blazing sunlight.
This steel jungle continues its noisy operation, completely unaware of the earth-shattering changes that have just taken place at the heart of Stark Industries' power.
A new order has quietly been established on the ruins of blood and fire, trust and betrayal.
The story of Tony Stark and his "family" is only just beginning.
……
The scene shifts to Kingpin and his men...
……
As Tony, carrying his reunited Uncle Obi, walks towards the medical center amidst Riley's lighthearted banter, he prepares for a belated, disinfectant-scented, heartwarming dinner.
Deep within an island nation perpetually shrouded in damp sea fog and chilly mountain winds, and constantly threatened by earthquakes and active volcanic eruptions, the atmosphere is like solidified volcanic lava—dull, scorching, and oppressive, with the potential to erupt at any moment.
This is a modern fortress built against a cliff face and deeply embedded in the mountain, isolating it from all outside prying eyes.
It is one of the shelters that "Kingpin" Wilson Fisk meticulously built around the world as a precaution.
The overall architectural style is cold, solid, and oppressive, just like him.
Outside the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, the raging waves of the Pacific Ocean crashed fiercely against the dark rocks. The spray of pale white foam, like the claws of a ghost, accentuated the suffocatingly low pressure inside.
But at this moment, Kingpin was clearly not in the mood to appreciate the spectacular scenery presented by nature.
Its enormous body was embedded in a throne carved from a single piece of obsidian.
With rapid breathing, his signature white bespoke suit could no longer conceal the surging anger beneath his bulging muscles.
His thick fingers tapped unconsciously on the cold stone handrail, producing a dull "thump, thump" sound.
Each tap felt like a blow to the hearts of the other two people in the room.
On the giant holographic screen floating in front of Kingpin, edited clips of New York news were playing.
Scene 1: On a New York street at night, Spider-Man, dressed in his iconic black suit, swings between buildings as always.
But at this moment, he was no longer alone; several solid, pitch-black figures were strangely trailing behind him.
These ninja soldiers from the Shadow Legion are no longer just vague outlines.
They moved with ghostly speed, and with Spider-Man's immense strength, they uprooted a well-equipped drug den with unprecedented ruthlessness and efficiency.
Even more deadly is...
Throughout the entire process, there was no playful banter, no deliberate holding back. Only a single, deadly strike, a precision so accurate it was chilling.
During this time, the camera captured a drug dealer kneeling on both knees, desperately raising his hands, trying to beg Spider-Man to spare him.
Unexpectedly, the next second, even knowing that reporters were following them, Spider-Man still coldly ordered the ninja soldiers to drag the drug dealer, who had ruined countless families, into the shadows like a dead dog.
Ultimately, before even a scream could be uttered, the image froze, leaving a blank space that invites contemplation.
In the lower right corner of the screen was a title that seemed particularly jarring to Kingpin and his crew.
"Spider-Man Noir and his Shadow Legion! The iron-fisted law enforcers of the new order! New York's rising stars!"
Scene 2: A guy in a cheap suit with slicked-back hair is crying in front of the camera, with the revolving door of the New York Police Department headquarters in the background.
"...He (Spider-Man) just barged in! Holding District 13's documents! Saying he was 'temporarily taking over during his vacation'! Chief George didn't even finish speaking before being asked to 'take a vacation'! Now the entire NYPD has become Spider-Man's backyard! Is there no justice? Is there no law?!"
The reporter's narration coldly states the facts of the power shift.
However, according to the intelligence Kingpin has now obtained, this reporter who spread rumors in front of the camera has been "friendly" invited to "have tea" by District 13. Following this, he "voluntarily" chose to resign, completely leaving the field of journalism.
Scene 3: A violent explosion occurs in an abandoned warehouse, with flames shooting into the sky.
In the blurry surveillance footage, the figure of "Spider-Man" can be vaguely seen, flashing past the edge of the explosion.
Immediately afterwards, the Shadow Legion surged in like a tidal wave, instantly engulfing several figures trying to escape through the back door.
News headlines scroll.
"Serial bombing murder case solved? Spider-Man is unstoppable! All suspects have 'disappeared'! Tremble, criminals of New York City!"
Of course, there are many more news footage.
These three images alone were enough to make Kingpin's anger become uncontrollable.
Starting with zero frames, he hurled the remote control, sending it piercing the screen. The scene that should have followed abruptly stopped, leaving the entire screen filled with static. The crackling sound of electricity was particularly jarring in the already dimly lit room, where only a handful of people were present.
"Snapped!"
A heavy, stemmed crystal glass with a gold rim shattered in the palm of a giant hand.
The scarlet liquid, mixed with shards of glass, splattered like cheap blood onto the expensive handmade carpet, spreading out in a murky dark red.
"Useless! You're all a bunch of useless trash! Is this the 'friendly force' you promised me with such certainty?!"
Kingpin's deep voice, like muffled thunder, rolled through the cave.
Every syllable contains a fury that seems capable of crushing a person.
His massive body leaned forward suddenly, and the powerful sense of oppression he exuded made him appear like a terrifying beast.
"Look at this! What have you created for me? A dictator in spider's skin?! A cleaner who's more ruthless and efficient than us criminals, yet he's 'legal and justifiable,' free from legal constraints and punishment?! If he continues like this, even if I manage to return to New York, my underground criminal empire will be completely destroyed!"
His bloodshot eyes were fixed on the other two people in the shadows of the room.
On the left is Martin Lee, Mr. Negative.
He wore a well-tailored dark gray suit and was thin. His face was a sickly pale, as if he had never seen the sun in years.
He sat quietly in a high-backed armchair, his hands crossed over his abdomen, his fingertips gleaming with an ominous, eerie green light.
Faced with Kingpin's overwhelming rage, his face remained expressionless.
Only those eyes, as deep as two frozen, dry wells, reflected the snowflakes on the screen, gleaming with a cold, calculating light.
On the right, however, it seems... somewhat out of place.
A man wearing a dark green retro suit, with slicked-back hair and holding a cane...
And he appeared in the room only as a virtual projection, not as a suit-wearing thug in person.
But whether it was Mr. Negative or Valmont, they both appeared fearless in the face of Kingpin's fury.
After all, strictly speaking, they are just partners, and there is no such thing as superiors and subordinates.
Moreover, with New York's criminal underworld severely weakened, the former kingpin of crime may now wield less power than these two families.
"Mr. Fisk, please calm down."
Fortunately, considering the common threat posed by Spider-Man, Mr. Negative, though frowning and clearly displeased with Kingpin's attitude, calmly spoke after a moment's thought, soothing Kingpin's emotions.
The voice was calm and even, without a trace of emotion, yet it carried a chilling quality, like the spitting of a venomous snake.
"My superpower has indeed hit Spider-Man. And the effectiveness of this power has been proven countless times..."
"It can act on the deepest moral anchors of the subconscious, completely overturning them. No matter how good a person is, they can be transformed into the most cruel and terrifying outlaw!"
"So, theoretically speaking, Riley Parker, that naive little Spider-Man who was bound by the ridiculous belief that 'with great power comes great responsibility,' should gradually immerse himself in the absolute sense of dominance that comes with power after being infected, enjoying the thrill of destroying order and trampling on rules. His 'sense of justice' will be twisted step by step into the most extreme 'selfishness' and 'desire for control.'"
As he spoke, Mr. Negative picked up his tablet and showed the reporter a snapshot of Spider-Man surrounded by a group of shadowy figures, his back exuding endless ruthlessness.
"Look at his current behavior: establishing absolute dictatorial control, efficiently and ruthlessly eliminating dissidents. Using the most cruel methods to massacre his enemies..."
"Isn't this the ultimate manifestation of a lust for power? Isn't this the 'order' that villains dream of most?"