Great America, New York.
Manhattan Chinatown.
Murdock Firm.
Inside the thirty-square-meter storefront, a black-haired man sat at the front desk, flipping through the Daily Bugle.
[Stark Industries Stock Continues to Fall, Tony Stark Still Missing]
"What a pity. Such a good chance to make money."
He put the newspaper down, regret flashing across his sculpted face.
This was Finnian Murdock's cry of poverty.
Finnian needed money. A lot of money.
Who told him to get stuck with such a broken system? Not smart, not stupid—just annoying.
It had only one function: a System Store that refreshed three items daily. Superpowers, divine weapons, pets—you name it. Everything required cash.
And the paywall level? Comparable to a certain greedy penguin company.
On the interface only he could see, Finnian scrolled through the day's items.
[Delta-level Mutant Ability: Grow Spikes All Over, Giving You Omega-level Confidence, Price $1,000,000]
[Bedroom Art: Kato Finger Technique, How to Achieve Seafood Fountain, Price $500]
[0.1% Off Super Sale: White Can Armor… Only $5,000,000]
"Holy crap. 0.1% off…"
Finnian shot to his feet.
He knew this one. The White Can Armor—the Symbiote Armor. Iron Man's glowing silver masterpiece, forged by combining symbiote matter with liquid metal, controllable purely by thought.
It wasn't just strong. It was a monster.
Mobility, adaptability, immunity to sound and electromagnetic interference. Hulkbuster-level combat power.
Its only flaw? It looked too damn flashy when worn.
Finnian completely ignored Hedgehog Confidence and Seafood Fountains.
What the hell was the point of that crap? Hugging a girl to death? Finger games for bed? Please. He was a twenty-something man with more energy than patience. That garbage was useless.
All that mattered was money.
So far, he'd only been able to afford small items from the System: Baguazhang, and his brother Matt's Radar Sense. Enough to scrape by in Chinatown.
But as a transmigrator blessed—and crushed—by fate, Finnian knew what was coming.
The Extremis outbreak. The Chitauri invasion. And, of course, the Family Planning Doctor snapping his damn fingers.
It all started with Tony Stark's kidnapping. Which was happening right now.
And New York? New York was basically bombed every other Tuesday in this universe.
Some might ask why he didn't just go back East.
If he could, he would.
But his body in this life was born American. He didn't get a choice.
At first, he hated it—until one day, after watching a group of drunk dudes twerking shirtless in the street, he realized: thank God I wasn't reborn as a Black guy here.
Otherwise, he might've just hung himself.
As Finnian was pacing in frustration, unable to afford the White Can Armor, the glass door of the firm swung open.
A man and a woman stepped inside.
"Hello. A friend of mine said you could help find someone."
The speaker was a pudgy White man with a good-natured face. His companion, a blonde in sunglasses, was quietly surveying the office.
Finnian's smile instantly turned warm and professional.
"Please, have a seat."
But in his eyes, these two weren't clients.
They were walking, talking $5 million.
"My name's Happy. Happy Hogan. My friend Matt said you're good at finding people."
Happy stated his business, then added quickly:
"Don't worry, money's not a problem."
Finnian stroked his chin, pretending to think deeply.
"Looking for Tony Stark? That's not difficult."
"Since Matt introduced you, I'll give you a discount. $5 million. Within seven days, I'll bring Stark back intact."
"Okay. No problem."
Happy didn't question how he knew the name. Tony had been missing for a month. As his driver and bodyguard, Happy was desperate.
And if Matt vouched for this guy, it was worth a shot.
But Finnian almost swore out loud.
Fuck. I asked for too little.
"Please pay the full fee upfront."
"Huh?"
Both Happy and the blonde frowned.
"Usually, it's a deposit first, then the rest on delivery," she said coolly.
Finnian lit a cigar with deliberate arrogance.
"That's not how I work. Five million. Not a cent less."
Confidence. That was the trick.
Even if he couldn't quite figure out why Happy knew his brother, it didn't matter.
Right now, all that mattered was money.
The White Can Armor.
Iron Man's strongest.
Happy hesitated. As just a driver, he couldn't move that much money at once.
But the blonde woman studied Finnian for a few moments, then said:
"Fine. The $5 million can be transferred. But I hope you know what you're doing."
Is that a threat?
Finnian didn't flinch. He pulled a paper contract from the drawer, signing and stamping it without hesitation.
"Don't worry. Murdock Firm has an excellent reputation in the Big Apple."
With Radar Sense, finding people was his specialty. And soon, he'd have the armor to back it up.
The blonde took the contract and signed: Virginia Potts.
"When will you depart?"
"As soon as the money lands, I'll send someone immediately," Finnian answered smoothly.
The White Can Armor was practically his already.
Based on MCU's lineup of armors, its performance was easily on par with the Mark 85 Nanotech.
Strong enough to pierce the purple bastard's skin.
As for the Ten Rings? A single punch would leave them coughing blood for weeks.
[Your Garden Bank account ending in 9527 has received $5,000,000. Current balance: $5,012,601.10.]
The transfer cleared. Finnian's smile turned sincere.
"I'll take your numbers. Once I find Mr. Stark, I'll call you."
The pair nodded and left quickly.
To Finnian, Happy and Pepper's move reeked of desperation. But understandable.
Tony had been gone a month. The U.S. military, the FBI, even local forces in Afghanistan had scoured the region with nothing to show.
Just as Finnian was about to close up shop, Happy walked back in.
"What's your relationship with Matt?"
Finnian met his gaze, calm and clear.
Then smiled.
"He's my brother."