Monaco Race.
Races like this weren't exactly traditional events. They attracted all kinds of people—from enthusiasts with customized luxury cars to bored millionaires looking for a dose of adrenaline. Most came just to soak in the atmosphere, show off, or try to impress someone.
Originally, the group of spectators formed only a small circle around the improvised track, but it slowly grew. Arthur's presence, however, didn't exactly cause a stir.
Gwen and Jean, on the other hand…
Their arrival was like pouring gasoline on a fire.
Heads immediately turned. The crowd began whispering, smiling, and snapping photos. They were stunning—Gwen with her bold, rebellious style, Jean with her natural elegance and magnetic charm. It was impossible not to notice them.
Arthur let out an exasperated sigh and commented with a half-sarcastic smile:
"Looks like you two are more popular than I am."
Gwen crossed her arms, rolling her eyes dramatically, while Jean chuckled and replied with a teasing tone:
"Well, I don't think the kind of people who follow these races are all that interested in literature."
"Or in people who vanish for days without giving any news," Gwen added coldly, her voice sharp.
Arthur coughed lightly, trying to play off the jab.
"I guess so…" he muttered, forcing a smile.
Gwen and Jean exchanged a quick, knowing glance, and then—almost as if rehearsed—both scoffed at the same time.
(When are they going to stop with this?) Arthur wondered silently, struggling to keep his composure.
It had been three days since he'd returned from the DC Universe… and let's just say those three days had been far from peaceful.
The moment he arrived, the first thing he did was run to see them.
They were both at home, waiting. As soon as he stepped through the door, Jean was the first to get up and… slap him. Two seconds later, Gwen hit him with an almost identical slap—though hers came with a look more hurt than angry.
"Why did you both hit me?" he asked, confused, rubbing his cheeks.
"You were gone for almost two weeks, Arthur!" Jean yelled, her voice wavering between anger and relief.
"We had no contact with you, no news at all… we thought you were dead!" Gwen added, her voice cracking.
Before he could respond, Jean threw herself into his arms and kissed him hard, as if to make sure he was real. Gwen, though more hesitant, also stepped in, pulling him into a tight hug before kissing him as well.
"Idiot…" she muttered against his chest.
"And what the hell happened to your eyes and hair?" Jean suddenly asked.
"Well, the thing is…"
Only after that did Arthur manage to sit on the couch and tell his story—or at least, part of it.
He talked about everything he went through in the DC Universe… But somehow, somewhere between a sip of water and a joke, the conversation drifted into slightly… delicate territory.
"Well, my time in Themyscira was pretty complicated. Being surrounded by beautiful women looking at me like I was a piece of meat was… a bit weird…"
Silence.
"I kinda got to know the streets of Gotham thanks to Barbara on that little tour."
More silence.
"My relationship with Selina was… strange…"
Unaware of the storm brewing, Arthur kept talking about his time in DC, not noticing that Jean and Gwen were exchanging increasingly dangerous looks. They didn't interrupt him. They didn't yell. They didn't even insult him.
Which, in itself… was a terrible sign.
For the past three days, everything he did or said had been followed by sharp remarks, prolonged silences, or synchronized scoffs. And the worst part? He had no idea they had already forgiven him. They were simply enjoying the psychological torture.
Jean was only in this relationship thanks to Gwen's unusual insistence, so she didn't care as much.
Gwen, on the other hand, had—at some point—developed a strange desire to see Arthur with a harem. She had never told anyone, but had even considered introducing him to some of her friends.
They both knew how guilty Arthur felt, and they were determined to squeeze every drop of discomfort out of him before letting him off the hook.
Back at the race, Arthur let out another sigh and glanced at the two women. Gwen was pretending to scroll through her phone, while Jean was watching the cars as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.
"Look, I've apologized a thousand times…" he began.
Gwen cut him off without even looking up:
"You still owe us nine hundred and ninety-seven more."
Jean smiled serenely.
"But we're counting."
Arthur threw his head back in frustration.
"I've fought the damn god of war, a humanoid crocodile, a steroid-pumped brute, and an immortal zombie… but I'm no match for you two."
The two exchanged glances again, and this time, they actually smiled for real.
Jean leaned in and whispered in his ear:
"We've already forgiven you, idiot."
Gwen took his hand and squeezed it firmly.
"Just… don't disappear like that again, okay?"
Arthur nodded, and for the first time in three days… he felt the storm might be passing.
But of course, only might.
---
At that moment, Tony Stark entered the lounge, drawing attention with his confident walk and natural charisma. At his side were Pepper—elegant as always—Happy, the loyal driver and bodyguard, and a woman Arthur recognized immediately.
Natalie Rushman.
Or rather, Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow disguised as Stark Industries' secretary.
Arthur didn't show surprise, but his eyes lingered on her for a second before returning to Tony.
Soon, the group split, with Pepper pulling Natalie and Jean into a corner—apparently to talk business… or gossip, no one could tell. Gwen, curious, joined them. Meanwhile, Tony approached Arthur, placing a familiar hand on his shoulder and pulling him aside with a sly smile.
"Arthur! Ready to have some fun? I had a little toy prepared for you."
He pointed with his chin toward the lounge's TV. Two Formula 1 cars gleamed under the lights, perfectly aligned, as if they'd just been pulled from a Ferrari showroom.
Arthur raised an eyebrow, surprised by the boldness.
"Pepper actually lets you drive one of those?"
Tony let out a mocking laugh.
"Let me? My friend, she doesn't even know I'm going to race. You think I'd ask permission to do something that's going to cause me this much trouble later?"
Arthur chuckled, shaking his head.
"You're impossible."
"And you love it."
"I wouldn't miss this for the world… But first…" Arthur narrowed his eyes and discreetly pointed with his chin. "Look who showed up—a good old friend of yours."
Tony followed Arthur's gaze to the other side of the lounge, where a man was trying to look like the center of attention, surrounded by cameras and wearing an artificial smile.
Tony recognized him instantly.
"Oh, of course. The great… Justin Hammer." He scoffed. "Old friend? You have a cruel sense of humor, Arthur."
"Thought you'd appreciate it."
"He's not an old friend. He's just a parasite with an inferiority complex and enough money to be dangerous."
Justin Hammer was dressed exactly like Tony—dark blazer, open shirt, sunglasses hanging from his collar, even his hairstyle matched. The only difference was his hair color, which looked dyed to match Tony's.
"This is the first time I've ever been ashamed of my own style," Tony muttered, making Arthur laugh out loud.
Following Hammer was a journalist with a recorder at the ready. Hammer looked euphoric, as if he were the protagonist… when in reality, he was just a poorly cast extra.
When they got closer, Hammer opened his arms theatrically and, without hesitation, pulled Tony into a side hug.
"Tony! My old buddy! What a wonderful coincidence!"
Still in a good mood, Tony decided to play along.
"Hammer. Still alive? I thought the Department of Defense had already buried you in paperwork."
Hammer laughed nervously and signaled the reporter to focus on the two of them. But something unexpected happened—the reporter turned away… and headed straight for Arthur.
"Excuse me… Are you Arthur Morgan?"
Arthur smiled politely.
"I am."
"Wow, that's amazing! I'm a huge fan of your books. You… you wouldn't mind giving me an autograph, would you?"
She bit her lower lip, throwing a suggestive look at Arthur.
"But, hmm… I don't have anything for you to sign right now. If you don't mind, maybe I could meet you tonight with the book?"
Tony gasped in delight, almost bursting into laughter right there.
Justin Hammer, on the other hand, looked like he'd just been slapped.
Arthur, keeping his composure, declined politely.
"I appreciate it, but I'd rather spend the night with my girls. Best of luck with your next targets."
The reporter looked visibly embarrassed. Hammer went pale with rage.
"Oh! I remember you now," he said, trying to regain control. "One of the greatest writers of the century… Haven't read any of your books, of course."
Arthur gave him a cold smile.
"That's fine. Clearly your companion has read quite a lot of my work. Ask her to explain it to you… tonight."
Tony burst out laughing.
"Hahaha! That's a good one, Arthur!"
Not far away, Pepper heard Tony's mocking laughter and immediately turned.
"Tony! What are you doing now?"
"Nothing much, just enjoying a good show."
"Don't laugh like that, it's not gentlemanly."
"Okay, okay, I'll stop," he said, wiping a tear from his eye.
"But seriously… you had to see it."
While Tony tried to hold back his laughter, Justin Hammer's face looked ready to explode. Green with anger—and maybe a bit of jealousy—he yanked the reporter by the arm and stormed out of the lounge.
"That was great. Anyway, shall we?"
Tony turned to Arthur, still smiling.
"Ready to leave some rubber on the asphalt?"
"Absolutely. But we'd better sneak out. If Pepper sees you leaving…"
"She'll kill me. I know."
The two slipped away down a side corridor.
---
Gwen quickly noticed Arthur's absence and made a move to follow him.
But before she could take a step, Jean's voice echoed in her mind:
(Gwen, let them be. Men need to have fun sometimes.)
Gwen sighed and nodded silently, returning to the conversation with Pepper and Natalie.
Happy, meanwhile, stood like a statue beside Natalie, holding two glasses of wine and quietly observing everything. Natalie knew both Arthur and Jean very well, which made her curious about their obvious closeness.
She knew enough to understand that this was… unusual.
But it wasn't part of her mission—yet—so she simply observed and stored the information away for a future report to Nick Fury.
---
Meanwhile, Tony led Arthur to the race track, where the two F1 cars were waiting—flawless, one in metallic yellow and the other in blue. A dream for any speed enthusiast.
"You can choose first. I don't usually let anyone do that…"
Arthur didn't hesitate.
"I'll take the yellow one."
Tony raised his eyebrows.
"I like a man who makes quick decisions. Besides, blue suits me better anyway."
They quickly changed into custom racing suits. As they got into the cars, the lounge cameras caught the image and instantly broadcast it to the giant screen inside.
When Pepper saw it, she nearly spat out her wine.
"What?!"
She turned furiously to Happy.
"You said you'd keep him away from the track!"
"I was tricked too!" Happy protested, raising his hands.
Pepper narrowed her eyes, watching Tony laugh inside the car like a rebellious teenager.
She shook her head.
"That man is going to be the death of me…"
---
(End of chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."