"Tsk, didn't even say goodbye before leaving."
Henry clicked his tongue. "Such a rush job."
He turned around and saw the balding man nervously walking toward him.
"Alright, Agent Phil." Henry smiled warmly—too warmly.
"The mythological story's over. Shouldn't we discuss the clean-up now?"
Coulson looked at Henry's smile and felt a chill crawl down his spine.
Cleanup? Did he really want him to mention cleanup?!
"Mr. Stark," he began cautiously, glancing at the metal sphere and the street around them that now looked like it had been hit by a meteor shower. He could already feel his blood pressure rising again.
"As for the property damage here... and that, uh, metal object..."
"Oh, this?" Henry casually walked over, grabbed the metal sphere with one hand as if it were a basketball, and gave it a light toss. "War trophy. Mine. Problem?"
"N-No problem at all." Cold sweat ran down Coulson's back.
Problem? He didn't dare have a problem!
He was afraid that if he even said the word "problem," the next second he'd end up as a "Coulson Ball."
"Good." Henry nodded, satisfied.
"As for the damages here…"
He thought for a moment, then pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
"Hey, Tony? Yeah, it's me. How's it going on your end? Oh, all wrapped up? Great. Listen, small issue here—I kinda, maybe, accidentally demolished a small town. Yeah, that one in New Mexico. Don't worry, no civilian casualties. Repairs? Don't joke, of course you're paying! You're the CEO. Who else would I call? What? You're docking my donuts too?! Fuck! Tony Stark, you filthy capitalist! Hello? Hello—?"
Henry stared at the hung-up call and rolled his eyes.
That bastard actually hung up on him!
He pocketed his phone and turned toward the dazed Coulson, looking rather annoyed.
"You heard that, right? The repair costs go on Stark Industries' tab. Send the bill to the top floor of Stark Tower, address it to a blonde lady named Pepper Potts, and tell her it was Thor's friend who caused it. Don't mention me. Oh, and send half the bill to Asgard too—Thor trashed stuff as well, didn't he?"
Without waiting for a reply, Henry grabbed the massive metal sphere and shot into the sky, turning into a streak of black light that vanished into the night.
Coulson stood alone amidst the swirling dust, contemplating a deep philosophical question.
Should I… start planning for early retirement?
Nick Fury kept assigning him these death missions. Maybe… he didn't have to try this hard in life.
High above the clouds, the rushing air roared past Henry's ears, but his bio-force field kept the wind at bay, making the flight as smooth as a stroll through his living room.
He carried the crushed remains of the Destroyer like he was bringing home a bowling ball from the supermarket, feeling absolutely content.
"Jarvis, perform a full-spectrum scan on this metal sphere. Stream all data directly to Malibu. I want every physical parameter from atomic composition to energy conduction. Don't miss a single detail."
"Yes, sir. Preliminary readings indicate the metal's atomic structure is extremely stable and contains a unique form of unidentified energy. It appears to be... magical in nature."
"Magic," Henry muttered, smacking his lips.
So it's true what they say—science really does end where theology begins.
Asgardians were just people who'd turned magic into technology... or maybe their technology was magic.
That trip to Asgard was looking more and more necessary—not just for the Uru metal, but for their entire knowledge system.
If he could get a peek into Odin's library, Stark Industries' technological level might just leap into a new era.
He replayed the feeling of that punch in his mind.
Controlled rage amplification—it was practically a custom-made cheat code for him.
Poor Banner's transformations were like opening mystery boxes—you never knew if you were getting a green guardian or a demolition maniac. But Henry could control his anger output like adjusting a volume knob.
Harnessing primal fury with pure rationality… that feeling was indescribably perfect.
Only downside—it made him really hungry.
That punch had drained most of the solar energy stored in his cells. Right now, he felt like he'd just pulled three all-nighters gaming. he needed calories—fast.
"Tony, that bastard… docking my donuts, huh?" Henry grumbled.
"No way. When I get back, I'm mixing all his precious vintage wines with Sprite."
...
Hours later
Malibu, California – Stark Beach Villa
The jet touched down smoothly in the underground hangar, its cabin door slowly opening.
Tony was the first to step out. His Mark armor automatically disassembled, folding back into a bracelet on his wrist.
"Welcome home, everyone."
He stretched lazily and snapped his fingers at the group following behind him.
"Despite a few tiny hiccups, I'd say our first official team outing was a success. Now, everyone's free to relax. Take a shower, grab a drink, or go stare dramatically at the ocean—your call."
Banner rolled his sore shoulder and let out a long sigh.
Finally, home.
Every mission with Tony felt like a roller coaster for his heart, but… it wasn't entirely unpleasant.
He glanced at Wanda, Pietro, and Blonsky. Seeing their calm or curious expressions, he felt something stir inside him—a faint sense of belonging. Maybe… this could really be home.
"Hey, Tony!" Wanda called out, gathering her courage as Tony headed for the bar.
"Thank you… for the tablet."
"Oh, that? No big deal." Tony turned, raising an eyebrow.
"Just remember to spend more time on the study material in there and less on those brain-melting romance dramas. They kill IQ. Henry's orders, by the way."
He said it teasingly, but deep down, he was impressed.
That bastard Henry really did have an eye for talent.
This little witch—guided properly—had limitless potential.
Just then, a soft whoosh echoed from the direction of the terrace.
A black figure landed silently on the marble floor.
"I can smell a capitalist enjoying fine wine while his employees work overtime."
Henry strolled in from the terrace, lugging the massive metal sphere. He tossed it casually onto the floor—
CLANG!
The impact echoed like thunder through the villa, making the marble tremble.
"Well, look who's back," Tony said, leaning against the bar with a glass of whiskey. His tone was casual, but his eyes flicked over Henry's body quickly to make sure he wasn't hurt before relaxing again.
"Our interstellar diplomat, Mr. Henry Stark. So, how was the New Mexico desert? Pick up any pretty alien girls to diversify our team?"
"No alien girls," Henry said dryly, pouring himself a drink and downing it in one go. "But I did bring back a big blond musclehead who thinks with his biceps."
"And before you start criticizing my diplomatic results, maybe take a look at the souvenir I brought back first."
He pointed at the metal sphere on the floor.
Tony's gaze shifted lazily toward it—then froze.
His pupils shrank.
In a blink, he was kneeling beside it, tapping gently on the surface with a fingertip.
Clang, clang.
The deep, resonant sound and the density beneath his touch made his breath hitch.
What the hell kind of material was this?!
That bastard Henry!
"Jarvis," Tony said sharply, his tone dead serious. "Full material analysis. Priority one."
Banner and Blonsky gathered curiously, and Banner pulled out a handheld analyzer from his pocket, scanning the sphere.
"Oh my God…" Banner whispered as the readings spiked off the charts.
"What is this metal? Its structure is… flawless. It's like an artificial miracle. Its density is several times higher than any stable element known on Earth!"
"Uru metal," Henry said lazily, leaning back against the bar and crossing his legs.
"Asgard specialty, handcrafted by dwarven smiths, allegedly blessed by old man Odin himself—what you'd call magical enchantment. So? Decent enough souvenir?"
Tony didn't respond. He was too busy running his fingers reverently over the cold surface of the sphere, eyes blazing with obsession—no, worship.
To a man who lived and breathed technology and invention, a brand-new super material was the ultimate drug.
"Incredible… absolutely incredible…" Tony muttered.
"If we could use this for the Arc Reactor casing—or better yet, the armor—"
Henry smirked but didn't interrupt.
Look at them—like kids who'd just seen candy for the first time.
Okay, fine, he was kind of the same.
Tony suddenly looked up, eyes shining. "Where did you get this?! Do you have more?!"
"Nope. Just this one." Henry shrugged.
"Something called the Destroyer got on my nerves, and, well… it ended up like this. If you want more, maybe next time we visit Asgard, we can… 'borrow' a few from their vault. You know, for research."
"You—"
Tony's jaw dropped. He had a thousand questions—how did Henry beat something called the Destroyer? What the hell happened out there?
But in the end, all those questions merged into one emotional outburst.
He walked up to Henry, glared at him, and ground his teeth.
"You bastard! You went on an alien adventure and didn't call me?! Do you realize what I missed out on?! A close encounter with an alien war machine! A firsthand look at divine technology! You—"
He looked furious, but Henry could see it in his eyes—frustration, envy… and maybe a hint of admiration.
This proud man-child.
Henry chuckled.