Paul didn't give a second thought to the farcical "friendly spar" with his dad. He knew Tony Stark's competitive nature and obsession with technology better than anyone. Let him go deal with Pepper. It would give Paul some time to handle his own business.
Paul's target was the massive piece of equipment secretly transported back from Stark Industries—the Nutrient Stasis Pod.
The thing was dead heavy. The alloy shell and its internal life-support systems alone weighed several tons. Moving it by hand would have required an entire construction crew.
But for Paul, things were much simpler.
He stood at the entrance to the lab, his eyes slightly closed, his mental energy highly focused.
On the floor, countless dust-like metallic particles began to converge. Like an ant colony with a life of its own, they rapidly assembled into tens of thousands of micro-robots. Each robot was no bigger than an ant, yet they glinted with a cold, metallic light. Their objective was clear as they crawled in an orderly fashion toward the enormous stasis pod.
*Move,* Paul commanded silently in his mind.
The next second, the army of micro-robots swarmed forward, covering the bottom and sides of the stasis pod in a dense, shimmering layer. Their internal micro-magnetic engines activated in unison. An invisible force gently lifted the heavy pod, raising it half an inch off the floor, where it hung, perfectly still.
The entire process was silent, imbued with an eerie, technological beauty. There was no roar of a crane, no shouts of movers—only a young man standing quietly, commanding an army of steel with his thoughts.
The stasis pod floated steadily through the air, following Paul's steps down the corridor, into the elevator, and was finally set down gently in the very center of the penthouse laboratory.
"Done," Paul said, clapping his hands together. He looked at the perfectly placed pod, a satisfied expression on his face.
Psionically controlling micro-magnetic robots was just a minor application of some of the technology he had reverse-engineered from the wreckage of an alien warship.
Simple, yet efficient.
He was about to connect the equipment and enter the virtual lab to prepare for Sideswipe's next upgrade when the communicator on his wrist suddenly lit up.
It was an alert from Baymax, the medical bot.
"Sir, the mansion's water purification system has detected an abnormal concentration of an unidentified heavy metal. The analysis module is reporting an anomaly."
Heavy metal contamination? Paul's brow furrowed. He had personally optimized Stark Tower's ecological recycling system. It could break down a single strand of hair that fell into the drain in an instant, let alone heavy metals.
He swiped open a holographic screen and pulled up the tower's network monitoring data.
Streams of data flashed by. Finally, one chemical symbol, highlighted in bold red, jumped to the center of the screen.
**[Pd]**
**[Palladium]**
Seeing that, Paul's pupils contracted sharply.
Palladium?
His mind raced, countless fragments of information connecting in an instant.
The Arc Reactor… its palladium core… heavy metal poisoning…
The plot from the movies flashed through his mind like lightning, but this time, the cold reality of it sent a chill down his spine.
He immediately issued a command. "Baymax, pull up all of Tony Stark's physiological data from the last month. Highest priority."
"Authorization confirmed. Accessing data..."
Moments later, a horrifyingly detailed medical report was projected in front of Paul. The concentration of palladium in his blood was steadily climbing at an extremely dangerous rate.
Even though Tony's physical constitution was far superior to an average person's, this kind of heavy metal erosion was irreversible. It was like a demon lurking inside his body, silently devouring his life force.
No wonder…
No wonder his dad had been so much more irritable lately, his moods so unstable. He'd thought it was PTSD from his return from Afghanistan. Now he saw the truth: the palladium poisoning was affecting his nervous system!
Paul stared intently at the rising red curve on the screen, his heart feeling as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand. It became difficult to breathe.
He had always thought he'd changed the timeline, saving Tony from so much suffering.
But he had forgotten. The most fatal threat had been there from the moment Tony put on the Arc Reactor.
Tell him? Or not?
With Tony's bone-deep pride, how would he react to the knowledge that he was being slowly killed by his own greatest invention? Would he break down? Would he just give up?
Countless possibilities flashed through Paul's mind, and every one of them made his heart pound with fear.
He was silent for a long time, the only sound in the lab the faint hum of the equipment.
Finally, he slowly raised his head, the hesitation and conflict in his eyes replaced by a steely resolve.
Running away wouldn't solve anything.
He was Tony Stark's son. He had the responsibility—and the ability—to solve this damned problem.
Paul took a deep breath and dialed Tony's private line.
"Yeah? What's up?" Tony's voice came through, slightly weary but still full of energy. The sound of metal clanging could be heard in the background. He was clearly tinkering with his armor in the garage again.
"Come up to the penthouse lab. Now." Paul's voice was devoid of emotion, but carried a calm authority that couldn't be ignored.
"What is it, another new toy? I'm telling you, don't you dare try to humiliate your old man with your 'money powers' again, I—"
"It's not a toy," Paul interrupted. "It's about you. It's important."
There were a few seconds of silence on the other end of the line. Tony seemed to have noticed something was wrong in Paul's tone.
"...I'm on my way."
A few minutes later, the lab door slid open.
Tony Stark walked in. He'd changed into a casual t-shirt, but he couldn't hide the exhaustion in his eyes. He glanced around the room, his gaze finally landing on Paul.
"So secretive. What's going on?" he asked, trying to sound casual as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Did you finally grow a conscience and decide to share your transforming tech with your poor old dad?"
Paul didn't take the bait. He just watched him quietly.
The look in his eyes made the smile on Tony's face slowly fade. It wasn't the look of a son joking with his father, nor the competitive glare between two tech nerds.
It was... a complex look, a mixture of pity, concern, and grim resolve.
"How much do you really know about your own body?" Paul asked slowly. His voice was quiet, but it hit the silence like a stone dropped into a still lake.
The air in the lab seemed to freeze in that instant.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Tony frowned, instinctively puffing out his chest and patting his t-shirt. "Me? I'm great! I work out every day, full of energy. Aside from the occasional blood pressure spike thanks to a certain ungrateful son, I'm practically a living specimen of peak human health."
He was still trying to lighten the mood with his usual banter, but he realized Paul wasn't smiling at all.
Paul simply raised a hand, and a pale blue holographic screen materialized between him and Tony.
On the screen was the shocking medical report, and the red curve that represented a countdown to death.
The look of confusion and disbelief on Tony's face froze solid the moment he saw the data on the screen. The light in his eyes dimmed, and the curve of his lips went rigid. He stared at the screen in disbelief, then looked at Paul, as if searching his son's face for any sign of a prank.
But there was none.
Paul's expression was more serious than he had ever seen it.
"Your current condition," Paul's voice was low and clear, each word a heavy hammer blow against Tony's heart.
"Is very bad."