At the same time, on the rooftop of the Hudson Group building.
As Nick Fury and the others departed, Tony prepared to put on his helmet and return to his villa.
"Alright, this is no longer my business. I can't treat you right now anyway—not while you're still in the suit. I'll come see you tomorrow," Tony said, half-grumbling. "Damn it, I really need to redesign this suit so it's easier to get in and out of."
If the armor could be removed more easily, he could have asked Carl to detox him right now instead of flying all the way back and coming here again tomorrow.
"No problem," Carl replied. "But remember to leave some time open. I've already told Jack to take you to film some endorsement ads for our tricolor pills tomorrow."
Carl grinned as he added, "Jack even asked someone to draft a slogan for the back of your battle suit: 'More powerful, more durable, more perfect—Tricolor Pills, save your happy life!' Don't forget to tag the suit when you get home!"
Carl waved at Tony, suitcase in hand.
Tony sighed dramatically, glancing up at the sky. "God, maybe dying from poisoning wouldn't be so bad after all."
With that, he put on his helmet and soared into the sky.
"Even though it's not exactly according to the original plan… this might actually work out better," Carl murmured to himself, descending the stairs and heading back to the car.
A lot had changed since he arrived in New York. Captain America was still missing, and SHIELD and Hydra were on the verge of an all-out internal war.
But that was fine. Even if he'd lost track of the original storyline, strength was what mattered most. If you were strong enough, you could adapt to anything—and profit from it.
There was no point clinging desperately to a so-called "plot advantage." While knowledge and foresight were helpful, strength was the true foundation. Gaining power—that was the real goal.
"Split the sample into two portions," Carl instructed as he returned. "Give one to Dr. Sten and Dr. Ethan, see if they can develop something new. Send the other back to the Sokovia base. Also, back up the data on the USB drive."
When he got back to the compound, Carl handed the suitcase to Leo and headed straight home to sleep.
This was the benefit of having subordinates and authority—he could delegate all the tedious, time-wasting tasks and focus on what truly mattered.
---
The Next Morning
Carl looked down, surprised to find Wanda resting peacefully on his chest.
"You seem… different today," he said, raising an eyebrow.
"Don't you like it, dear?" Wanda looked up at him with soft, glimmering eyes.
The neighbors in their residential community were mostly married couples. Many of the women, especially those at FEAST, were housewives with plenty of free time. Naturally, conversations would sometimes veer into private territory.
And in those casual chats between women, Wanda had noticed something strange—everyone else seemed to have complaints about their husbands' performance. Especially the women in their thirties and forties, who only seemed satisfied occasionally when their partners took red or blue enhancement pills.
But Wanda was the complete opposite. She was usually the first to surrender—Carl always seemed to have an inexhaustible reserve of energy.
When she shared this during one of their conversations, the room had gone quiet at first. Then, gradually, advice started pouring in. Tips, tricks, secrets from the more experienced wives.
She'd tried some of them this morning—and judging by Carl's reaction, the results were very promising.
"I like it," Carl said seriously. "I like it a lot."
Carl wasn't practicing any ascetic cultivation method. At his level, he didn't need to restrain himself—and his strength wouldn't deteriorate due to frequent... activity.
He got up, dressed, and headed to the bathroom to wash up.
Afterwards, he sat in the living room, watching Wanda bustle around the kitchen preparing breakfast. A soft smile spread across his face.
If not for the chaos and dangers lurking in this world, this peaceful life wouldn't be so bad.
But he quickly shook his head. That kind of life wasn't guaranteed. Strength was what made happiness possible—and without it, even the sweetest days could vanish in an instant.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
"Crap, it's already nine o'clock. Natalie's here!" Wanda gasped, quickly setting the breakfast down and hurrying toward the door.
They had overslept—because of the "experiment," they'd gotten a much later start than usual.
Carl slapped his forehead. "I shouldn't have let Natasha come back last night."
He'd only called her back yesterday because he didn't want Wanda to be disappointed. Wanda had been expecting her, and this gave Carl a chance to keep his promise—and arrange for Natasha to move out discreetly.
Wanda opened the door, flustered. Natasha stood there, her eyes narrowing just slightly as she took in the situation.
"Natalie, I'm so sorry! We got up late this morning. Breakfast's not quite ready yet. Please, come in and sit. I'll be quick, then we can go shopping," Wanda said breathlessly.
Natasha, ever the seasoned agent, figured out what had happened instantly. Her tone was light and teasing: "It's fine. It's normal for young couples to sleep in. Just come find me when you're done."
"Okay! I'll be there soon," Wanda replied, cheeks turning a little pink.
After Natasha left, Carl and Wanda ate breakfast, then Carl left for the company. Tony was scheduled to stop by in the morning for detox treatment.
But on the way down to the parking lot, Carl noticed something odd.
Several of the women they passed—especially the housewives who usually hung out with Wanda—gave him strange looks.
Not hostile, not fearful... just hungry.
Unsettled, Carl pulled Leo aside before getting in the car.
"Has anything happened in the neighborhood lately? Something feels off."
Leo hesitated. "Uh… I'm not sure I should say, boss."
Carl frowned. "Spill it. You know the rules—anything strange in the community gets reported immediately."
Sighing in resignation, Leo spoke in a low voice: "Well… according to our monitoring, there's a rumor going around among the women here. Apparently… you have the ability to go twelve rounds a night."
Carl's expression froze.
Leo continued reluctantly, "This morning, the latest version of the rumor said eighteen."
"…Eighteen?" Carl blinked in disbelief.
Sure, his body could handle that—but Wanda definitely couldn't. The most they'd ever managed was seven, and that was after Carl had just returned from eight months away in the Naruto world.
"Alright… got it," Carl muttered.
Now he knew where Wanda had learned all those new moves.
As he got into the car, he told David—who was clearly fighting back laughter—to step on it.
Carl leaned back in his seat, grinning.
This kind of absurdity would never have happened if they'd lived in a secluded, luxury villa. But in this community, surrounded by people and gossip, life was never boring—and Wanda, it seemed, was loving every moment of it.