Located on Malibu Street, in the basement studio of Tony Stark's oceanside villa, the air was heavy with tension.
The dim light of the holographic displays cast a pale blue glow on the metallic walls. Dozens of screens floated in the air, each running global surveillance feeds, facial recognition scans, satellite images, and intercepted data streams. Jarvis, the most advanced AI butler in the world, was working overtime.
Originally designed and coded by Tony Stark himself, Jarvis was no ordinary program. Its architecture rivaled, even surpassed, any artificial intelligence ever created. It was faster than any government system, more flexible than any commercial AI, and built with a level of sophistication only Tony Stark's genius could achieve.
But despite all its power, Jarvis had failed.
"Sir," Jarvis's voice echoed with clinical calmness, "no trace of the suspect has been found in any global database. Facial reconstruction, heat signatures, biometric patterns—all inconclusive."
Tony Stark didn't respond.
He sat slouched in the chair at the center of the room, surrounded by the whirring of machines and the flicker of digital noise. His eyes were bloodshot, face unshaven. He hadn't slept since the explosion.
Pepper Potts stood quietly by the staircase, watching him from a distance. The TV on the far wall buzzed with the evening news. It was more noise in a room already overloaded with signals and data—but it caught their attention.
"Recently, a man wearing clown makeup went on a crime spree in New York City," the news anchor reported.
"His first crime was committed on Halloween night. The second, just last evening, involved the detonation of an explosive device at a major metropolitan bank…"
The broadcast continued.
"The federal investigation bureau has launched a full-scale search. Sources say the suspect calls himself 'Joker'—a name adopted by the media and the public alike."
The screen cut to public interviews. Ordinary citizens giving their opinions on the Joker.
One man, wearing a construction uniform, looked into the camera and said, "I don't think he did anything wrong. Maybe he's like us. Oppressed. He blew up Stark's bank—big deal. Stark's a billionaire. You think he cares about the rest of us?"
Another woman spoke from behind her shop counter. "I know people are calling him a monster, but the guy he killed was a cyborg. Everyone in the neighborhood knew what that guy was up to. He wasn't a victim."
Then came a young man, maybe in his early twenties. "Yeah, the Joker's crazy. But sometimes it takes someone that crazy to do what the rest of us only dream about."
And finally, a voice from a college student. "Iron Man isn't a hero—he's just rich. If I had a few billion, maybe I'd be Iron Man too."
Pepper Potts couldn't take any more.
She grabbed the remote and switched off the TV, the screen going dark with a snap. "Oh my God, what are these people even saying?"
She turned to look at Tony.
He hadn't moved.
But his silence said enough. The pain in his eyes was deeper than frustration. It was betrayal. Rage. Confusion. The same people he thought he was protecting—some of them were starting to sympathize with a lunatic.
"I don't understand," Pepper whispered. "You've saved this city. The world. More than once."
Tony didn't look at her.
She stepped closer, hesitated, then said quietly, "Tony… earlier, someone from S.H.I.E.L.D. came by."
Still nothing. He sat frozen, fists clenched in his lap.
"They said… they might have found a lead. About the clown."
At the word clown, something snapped.
Tony's head jerked up. His chair screeched backward as he stood.
"Go," he said. The word cut the air like a blade.
Without waiting for Pepper's reply, he marched up the stairs, each step a heavy stomp.
In the villa's sunlit living room, Nick Fury and Natasha Romanoff were seated on the leather sofa. Fury's expression was unreadable, as always, and Natasha was nursing a lukewarm coffee. A stack of files sat on the coffee table between them.
When Tony appeared, there were no greetings.
No sarcasm.
No smirks.
Just fire.
"Tell me," he said, his voice hoarse and raw, "where is the Joker?"
Stones... 🪨 🪨🪨