"Smile?"
Wanda froze. She looked up at Henry, bewildered.
She'd expected harsh training methods — meditation, ascetic drills, maybe even electroshock therapy. She never expected something that sounded so… absurd.
Smile.
A gesture trivial to ordinary people, but one Wanda hadn't practiced in ten years. Ever since the Stark Industries shell landed at her doorstep, her world had narrowed to black and white. Hatred was her food, revenge, her reason to live.
Smile? What's that? Is it edible?
She felt humiliated — Henry was mocking her in a way she couldn't understand.
Henry watched her reaction, amused. He never lied, beneath the playboy façade he usually spoke plainly.
"You think I'm joking?" He seemed to see straight through her thoughts. He dropped his flippancy and, for once, went serious.
Crouching down so their eyes met, he saw the stubborn, fragile reflection of a girl who had carried too much.
"No. I'm not joking." His voice was quiet, but convincing. "Wanda, I'll ask you something. What do you think that red energy inside you actually is?"
Wanda was stumped. She had never questioned it. From the moment she woke up in Strucker's lab, that power had been part of her as naturally as breath or heartbeat. Strucker called it a miracle, she had called it revenge.
"It's my power," she answered, unsure.
"No." Henry shook his head, cutting straight to the point. "It's not your power. You're its slave. Your emotions, your thoughts, every move you make — it controls them. It feeds off your hatred and rage, grows stronger, and becomes more uncontrollable."
"You think you control it, but in truth it controls you."
Henry's words were a blade that opened a wound Wanda had refused to face. She remembered the rampage in the lab, the psychic recoil. The truth was undeniable.
"What do I do?" Her voice trembled with helplessness.
"Simple." Henry smiled faintly. As someone who'd slipped through worlds, he knew this girl's possible futures better than anyone. She could be a top-tier reality writer — a single thought could rewrite things — or a tragic wreck whose emotions repeatedly nudged the world toward destruction. He couldn't let that happen. Not if he had a say.
"To control it, you must first learn to control yourself," he said slowly. "The first step in mastering your emotions is learning to let go."
"Let go of that weight, let go of burdens you were never meant to carry. I know it's like asking someone drowning to release their last straw, but you have to."
He reached out and gently cupped her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. "So from now on your training is one simple task."
His tone brooked no argument. "Smile at yourself in the mirror a hundred times every day. When you can genuinely smile from within — without any external aid — you pass stage one."
"Until you learn to smile, you are forbidden from using any of your powers."
"That's an order."
Meanwhile, back at the lab, Tony was on a roll before a holographic map, talking up the global demolition plan to Banner and Bronski.
"Analysis is in: our first target is North Africa. Hydra's hiding a weapons R&D site in a phosphate mine. According to Strucker's memories, they're developing a new energy weapon — codename: Ouroboros."
"My plan…" Tony's fingers danced through the air and the base schematics split into modular pieces.
"Bronski, you lead the frontal assault and draw primary fire. Your job is simple: smash everything you see."
Bronski laughed in approval, blunt force was his element.
"Banner," Tony turned to the nervous-looking scientist. "You coordinate with him — smash and grab. Take the data."
Banner pushed his glasses up. "Understood. What's your role?"
Tony shrugged with a cocky grin. "I? I'm responsible for looking good."
Banner and Bronski blinked.
"Just kidding," Tony waved it off. "I'll be with you on this first run — aerial support and overall command. And if some big nasty turns up, I'll personally step in and show them what money can buy in a fight."
He said it with the usual mixture of swagger and sincerity that, somehow, let people believe him.
Just as Tony was about to continue his long-winded speech, Henry's voice carried in from the doorway.
"Oh? Looks like your little war council is getting pretty heated. Planning to hand out the 'Demolition Employee of the Year' award, are we? I'm guessing the prize is a gold-plated hammer?"
With a lollipop dangling from his mouth, Henry swaggered in.
"What are you doing here?" Tony frowned at him.
"And those two problematic students of yours? They didn't happen to blow off my roof while I wasn't looking, did they?"
"Relax. Right now, they're behaving better than kittens," Henry shrugged. "I assigned them some healthy homework. For the next month, they probably won't have any energy left to think about demolishing buildings."
He glanced at the base on the holographic screen and pursed his lips.
"So, you're planning to go in like this? Three grown men, flying to the deserts of Africa to blow up a mine? I have to say, your team-building exercise sounds macho as hell and completely unoriginal."
"Do you have a better idea, Stark?" Tony shot back bluntly. "Are you suggesting we bring those two along for a superhero team-up?"
"No need for that," Henry shook his head and a mysterious smile spread across his face.
"However, I think our demolition team is missing a mascot."
"A mascot?" Tony, Banner, and Bronski exchanged confused looks.
"Exactly," Henry snapped his fingers. "A mascot that's fast, skilled at reconnaissance, and good at causing mischief. Don't you think adding a speed element to a team full of muscle-bound men would make our tactics more flexible and versatile?"
Tony paused, then caught on.
"You mean that silver-haired kid?" He furrowed his brows. "Are you insane? Let him join? He's a ticking time bomb. What if he suddenly goes rogue on the battlefield?"
"He won't," Henry said confidently. "I've already put safeguards in place. And"
He looked at Tony. "Don't you want to see for yourself what it looks like when someone with super speed dons the armor you designed?"
Tony's eyes lit up.
As a scientist and inventor, nothing thrilled him more than creation and experimentation.
An Iron Man with extreme speed?
The idea was ridiculously, insanely cool.
"Alright."
He rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment, and finally gave in to his curiosity.
"I admit it, your proposal is interesting. But first, I'll need to design an entirely new suit for him, one specifically optimized for a speedster. Let's call it the Silver Surfer."
Henry rolled his eyes silently at the name and muttered to himself. He really is a naming genius.