Iron Man, Cruelly Suppressed

When Sean saw Tony, Iron Man was dressed like a plumber and enjoying a tuna sandwich. He had just come out of a burger joint with a kid, wearing faded jeans, a grimy coat, and sporting a mess of unkempt hair. There was nothing about him to suggest he had once been a famous billionaire.

"Stand right there. Let me take a picture first. The Daily Bugle will definitely love putting that look of yours on the front page."

A Porsche Panamera was parked by the street. Sean leaned against its hood like some rich guy out at midnight fishing for hot women. His demeanor drew plenty of envious and contemptuous looks; the former because six girls had approached him within ten minutes, and the latter for exactly the same reason.

"Thank God. Not only did you get my message, but you came in person. I’m touched."

Tony rubbed the kid’s head beside him, then symbolically wiped at the corner of his eye. His exaggerated performance perfectly conveyed the insincere, perfunctory thanks.

Honestly, he had not held out much hope. He had long prepared himself to be isolated and fight alone. Even without the Iron Armor, Stark would still find the Mandarin and uncover the truth behind the bombings by himself.

That was the pride buried deep in his heart. Tony had never been someone willing to retreat. Even when his life had hung by a thread, he had never given up the identity of Iron Man.

"Yeah. A direct flight from Iceland to New York takes six hours, but I only took three and a half to get from the other side of the planet to this tiny Canadian town that even Google Maps has trouble finding."

Sean shrugged, his casual tone practically saying, "It’s no big deal, so don’t make a fuss over it." It made the scar-covered Tony look rather awkward. The proud, arrogant Iron Man had actually thanked someone for once.

"Consider it a favor I owe you." He hurriedly cut Sean off, then turned to the kid beside him. "Go home and stay with your mom. Guard my Iron Armor, and keep your phone on at all times… You’re a great partner!"

Tony paused at the end. He simply was not naturally gifted at expressing his feelings, even toward close friends and family.

Pride and arrogance were sometimes just shells of self-protection, like Iron Armor shielding its wearer from harm from the outside world.

"Wow. I thought that last line was supposed to be for me."

Sean’s tone was teasing. It was rare to see Tony reveal his emotions, so naturally he had to seize the opportunity to mock him a little and let him know how it felt to be ridiculed. It might stop him from constantly flaunting that sharp tongue of his.

"If you could stop talking, I’d thank you silently from the bottom of my heart."

Stark was somewhat embarrassed and angry. He had been plagued by anxiety lately, and his temper was not exactly great.

Especially after the Mandarin incident. Iron Man’s reckless public declaration had brought on a terrorist attack that nearly killed him and even got Pepper hurt.

Tony could not let that go. The guilt in his heart had nowhere to be spoken of, so it gradually settled and turned into towering fury toward the Ten Rings and the Mandarin.

"Where are we going?" Sean turned his head and tossed him a copy of the evening paper. "Technically, you’re dead now."

The front-page headline from two hours ago read in striking bold letters: "MANDARIN ATTACKS! IRON MAN DEAD!" The heavy black type carried an almost chilling air.

This must have already alerted S.H.I.E.L.D. As one of the Avengers and a renowned Superhero, Nick Fury had surely mobilized resources to start looking for him.

"I found some clues about the Mandarin and his bombings." Determination showed in Tony’s eyes. He had to get rid of that evil leader of a terrorist organization.

"You mean how they used soldiers as test subjects and turned them into human bombs?" Sean curled his lips into a mysterious smile. "Or were you planning to go to Tennessee with me, find the Mandarin’s hideout, and catch whoever was behind it all?"

"You… already knew?"

Now Tony was the one staring in shock. Only after working through Jarvis’s data models and conducting extensive analysis had he managed to connect the Mandarin’s bombings with the Rose Hill accident in Tennessee—the military base there had suffered an explosion, and a soldier named Charlie Davis had apparently detonated explosives to kill himself, leaving six dead.

"What did you think I was doing during those three and a half hours on the plane? Throwing parties with beautiful women or watching pole-dancing shows?" Sean mocked him without mercy.

Those had all been Tony’s old favorites: gathering a group of hot models, making them wear flight attendant uniforms, and throwing sexy parties aboard his private jet. There were too many absurd antics like that to count. Otherwise, how could he have claimed the title of New York’s number-one playboy without any suspense?

"So you’re determined to humiliate me today and make me crawl into a hole?" Tony asked angrily.

He had always been the one roasting others. When had the tables ever turned, leaving him on the receiving end with no way to refute it?

His old rivals and strangers alike—from the deceased Obadiah Stane to Justin Hammer, who was stuck in prison picking up soap—even military big shots like General Ross and powerful members of Congress, who had not suffered an assault from Tony Stark’s sharp tongue?

If they found out about this, they would probably pop champagne in celebration, clap their hands, and say, "What goes around comes around. Justice has its cycle!"

"Jarvis isn’t the only one with immense computing power, and you’re not the only one who knows how to build data models, analyze vast amounts of information, and find clues."

Seeing that Tony was on the verge of losing his temper, Sean wisely stopped while he was ahead. Making someone with anxiety angry was not a good idea.

"How much do you know?" Tony took a deep breath and asked urgently.

"About as much as you. I only know the location of the Mandarin’s Tennessee hideout—a private estate in the suburbs—and that they have been using soldiers for experiments. Those bombings were actually failed accidents caused by imperfect technology."

Sean started the car, and the engine roared to life. Aldrich Killian had probably learned that Tony was still alive by now. He might even send assassins after them shortly.

Sean would not have minded steamrolling through the Extremis Virus-injected Killian, destroying the Mandarin’s hideout, and stopping the conspiracy they were plotting… but why should he do that?

Sean had never truly cast himself as a Superhero. At first, everything he did had been for the sake of living a better life. Then, as his power grew and his desires expanded, he began making moves toward wealth and authority, trying to become someone at the top of the pyramid.

In the end, he discovered that he could do more—create an entirely new future, even bring the whole world under his control.

Just as Sean had said, he calmly accepted the darkness in his heart and faced his insatiable ambition and desire head-on.

An observer and a guide—those were the proper roles the young man had assigned himself.

"That’s all?" Tony curled his lip, secretly relieved that he had not lost too badly.

"Of course not," Sean replied with a smile.

"I also know that all of this began with a prank you pulled thirteen years ago. You toyed with a loyal fan who was sensitive at heart. His name was Aldrich Killian."

Sean wore a delighted smile as he leisurely admired the stunned expression on Tony’s face. That expression alone made the long trip back worthwhile, even if it meant temporarily setting aside all the matters in Sokovia.

"Killian? Who’s that?"

Still completely confused, Tony asked the question.