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It was high noon, and the scorching sun hanging in the sky blazed down like a ball of fire.
In a newsstand on a street corner in Brooklyn, New York—
A slightly overweight white guy had just come back from lunch.
He shut the door behind him and placed a fresh stack of newspapers from the Daily Bugle right in the most noticeable spot inside the stand.
"Late delivery again, but hey, this stuff sells like crazy."
It was just a simple task, but the guy was already drenched in sweat.
He casually wiped his face with his arm, then plopped his heavy self down onto a chair without a second thought.
As if something suddenly crossed his mind, he awkwardly twisted around and slowly pulled out a pack of cheap cigarettes from the side pocket of his baggy shorts.
Flick.
Completely ignoring the fire hazard he was creating, he lit one up.
"Ahh… that's the stuff."
With his eyes half-closed, he slowly blew out a puff of smoke, as if this was the happiest moment of his life.
"Young man, could you hand me a paper? Thanks."
An elderly man with white hair and a hunched back had quietly appeared outside the newsstand.
"They're right there. Help yourself. Five cents each. Don't forget to pay," the guy said lazily, pointing toward the newspaper stack while exhaling another puff of cheap secondhand smoke, filling the whole booth with it.
The old man straightened up with effort, reached over to grab a copy of the Daily Bugle, and slowly placed a nickel on the counter after fishing it from his pocket.
"Young people these days…" he sighed as he sat down on a bench by the road and slowly began reading.
"Superman in New York? Heh… this world sure is something else…"
As he read, a curious smile crept across the old man's face.
Whoosh!
In the sweltering air, a cool breeze suddenly swept through, bringing with it a wave of refreshing chill.
"One newspaper, please. Thanks."
"Right there. Grab one yourself. Don't forget to drop a nickel."
Same routine.
But just as the guy was enjoying the hit of nicotine with his eyes half-shut, he suddenly felt a cold gust brush against his face.
Even in the heat of noon, frost instantly formed on his unshaven stubble.
The bone-chilling cold made him shudder. He panicked and opened his eyes wide.
Next thing he knew, the cigarette in his mouth—already frozen and snuffed out—dropped straight to the floor.
Like Tom the cat who just had his tail set on fire, he sprang up instantly, his body jiggling all over.
"Heh-heh, hello, Mr. Superman! Here's your newspaper!"
"No need to pay, sir! This one's on me!"
"Young man, always remember—do your best in everything!"
The old man had somehow stood up again without anyone noticing. Leaving only that sentence and his hunched silhouette behind, he quietly walked away.
Whoosh!
Watching the figure vanish into the sky with envy, the guy wiped the imaginary sweat off his forehead.
Then, looking down at the five-cent coin embedded deep in the stainless steel counter, he was left speechless.
"The greatest superhero in human history—Superman—spotted in New York City! A blessing for the city, and for all mankind!"
Inside Obadiah Stane's office in Stark Industries' headquarters—
"These Daily Bugle headlines get more attention-grabbing every day."
He tossed the paper he'd just finished reading onto the desk.
Obadiah Stane walked over to his desk and opened a highly encrypted file on his personal computer.
"The Jericho Missile… heh. Tony Stark, you really are a genius like your old man."
"Too bad you're just as stubborn and rigid as he was."
With a few clicks, he sent off that top-secret file (weapon specs only) and a pre-written letter to an unknown IP address.
Obadiah Stane closed his laptop and walked over to the window, looking down at the vast cityscape of New York spread out beneath him.
"Superman? Tony Stark? Power? A genius mind?"
"Hmph, in the end, it's still money that runs the world. Whoever has the most cash gets to call the shots."
As if struck by a sudden idea, Obadiah turned back to his desk and picked up the phone.
"Hello, General Ross…"
"Yes, I'm calling on behalf of Stark Industries to accept that special weapons contract."
"Wait—don't hang up just yet. I've got an extra little deal for the military you might like…"
"Haha, great—looking forward to working together!"
He hung up with a sly, wicked grin on his face.
The very next second, his smile softened and turned warm and welcoming as he looked toward the blonde, blue-eyed woman at the door who was just about to knock.
"Come in, Miss Potts. You're right on time. We've just secured two big orders from the military—five billion dollars in total. Make sure Tony hears about this ASAP."
"Mr. Stane, with orders like these… are we even capable of fulfilling them?"
Pepper Potts, Stark Industries' secretary, couldn't help but raise her concern after quickly scanning through the details of the contracts. Something about them didn't sit right with her.
"Don't worry, Miss Potts. Don't you know Tony? He's the most brilliant weapons engineer on the planet. Nothing's too difficult for him."
"…Alright then, Mr. Stane. I'll pass it on to Mr. Stark."
As a secretary, Pepper didn't have much authority. Just being able to voice her doubts was already going above and beyond.
That night, at a luxury villa on Malibu Beach in Los Angeles—
Tony Stark had just returned from a party, flanked by two gorgeous blonde women, finally wrapping up yet another night of his chaotic, flashy lifestyle.
Unable to fall asleep, he gently moved his hand off the curvy, half-asleep figure beside him and slipped out of the bedroom, leaving behind the strange mix of scents. He headed down to his underground lab.
"Hey, JARVIS. What've we got lined up lately?"
Holding a glass of rare 1992 red wine, Tony spoke into the air.
"Sir, we've just received two new orders from your company. There are some documents that require your attention."
As JARVIS's smooth voice filled the room, a virtual display lit up on the lab table in front of Tony.
"Huh, what's this?"
Tony looked at the holographic files with casual interest.
He tossed his expensive wine into the trash without a second thought and used his fingers to tap and open the first file in midair.
"Recreating the Super Soldier Serum? Gamma radiation mutation? A green giant…"
His laid-back expression gradually turned serious as he read.
"Damn military meatheads, always looking to stir up trouble."
After skimming the first file, Tony already knew this project was gonna be a headache. He tapped on the second one.
"…Are you kidding me? There's no way Superman actually exists."
The second order instantly triggered his skepticism.
"Sir, this is today's news coverage on Superman. Here's the video from the press conference, plus a bunch of photos from random bystanders claiming to have seen him flying."
As JARVIS finished speaking, the virtual display filled with blurry photos and videos of Superman.
"Don't tell me Superman jumped right out of a comic book…"
Tony still couldn't believe it.
"Would you like to view some Superman comics, Mr. Stark? They include detailed information on the character, which might help with the project."
"You're joking, right? Only little kids read comic books."
Tony sounded completely unimpressed by the idea.
Warning, intru—
JARVIS barely got the alert out before Tony suddenly vanished from the lab.
"…"
Even JARVIS, the most advanced AI in the world, was stunned into silence for a few seconds.
"…Initiating emergency protocol. Contacting Miss Pepper Potts…"
"....."