Clack, clack, clack!
The sharp echoes of leather shoes striking the hospital floor rang down the hallway of New York Presbyterian Hospital.
A young man, bearing a face that shared seven parts similarity with Howard Stark's but still held a touch of youthful softness, was sprinting down the corridor. None of the hospital staff attempted to stop him or tell him to calm down. They all seemed to know exactly who he was.
There was only one person he could be.
Anthony Edward Stark—better known to the world as Tony Stark.
"This can't be happening. This can't be real..."
Just a day ago, Tony had been basking on a Hawaiian beach, escaping the winter chill.
He had always had a tense relationship with his father, Howard. He had planned to return on Christmas Day to wish his mother a happy holiday—and nothing more. But while he danced carefree in the sand, a call came from New York. Stark Industries had reported that his parents were in a car accident. His father was in critical condition. His mother, Maria, had died on the spot.
Tony hadn't believed it. He refused to.
He had caught the earliest possible flight back, stormed into the hospital, and now raced toward his father's room.
He was convinced that, once he threw open the door, he would find Howard with his usual sarcastic smirk and his mother with her gentle smile.
He burst through the door.
"Old man, come on, don't push this prank too far—you…"
Tony had already prepared himself for a shouting match, angry that he had been tricked into flying all the way back from Hawaii.
But inside the room, there was no prank.
Only his father, covered in bandages, lying weakly on the bed, staring at him with tired eyes.
Tony's voice trailed off. The words stuck in his throat.
The nightmare he had refused to accept… was real.
Step by shaky step, Tony moved toward the bed.
"So... it's true?"
"Tony… I…"
Howard didn't want to face his son either. He had poured his entire life into building Tony's future. But it had come at the cost of a distant relationship, one in which Maria had been the emotional bridge between father and son. Maria had been everything to Tony—his comfort, his safe haven. And now, Howard had failed both as a husband and as a father. He couldn't protect her. He couldn't protect the mother of his child.
He was consumed by guilt.
"Why wasn't it you instead?!"
Tears streamed down Tony's face. He raised his fists and drove them toward Howard's wounded body.
But at the last second, he pulled the punches. His fists slammed into the metal rail of the hospital bed instead. Blood instantly trickled down his hands.
"Tony… I'm sorry..."
Howard wept, over and over, apologizing through the pain. Tony slowly straightened up, his breathing ragged, his voice low and dangerous.
"Who tried to kill you?"
His reason was back—but it was being driven entirely by fury.
Tony had been told it was a car accident, but he knew his father. As much as he hated the man, he knew Howard Stark would never risk Maria's life with something as mundane as a car crash.
He knew what this was.
Howard still thought of him as a child. Still didn't trust him. Still refused to tell him the truth. It was just like old times—Howard deciding for himself what counted as protection.
"Tony… it was just an accident…"
Howard hesitated but held firm. He could describe the attacker. He was sure his brilliant son would find clues. But that brilliance also made him fearful—Tony, driven by rage, might act recklessly. Howard had already lost his wife. He couldn't bear to lose his son too.
But Tony couldn't understand.
He stared at Howard, disappointment tightening in his chest like a vice.
"Even with Mom dead, you're still going to pretend nothing happened? Really, Howard?!"
The moment he used his father's name instead of "Dad," the distance between them froze over completely.
Still, Howard refused to say more. He repeated his claim. It was an accident. An unfortunate coincidence.
Tony exhaled slowly, realizing he wouldn't get anything useful here. He changed tactics.
"Then at least tell me who saved your life."
He already knew someone had gotten Howard to the hospital in time. If his father wouldn't tell him the truth, he'd go find the other witness.
This time, Howard hesitated.
He had read Alfred's file. A kind, noble, intelligent gentleman with a strong sense of justice. Perhaps Alfred would be better at reaching Tony—better than a failed father ever could be.
"He's a gentleman worth your respect. Alfred Pennyworth. He lives in Gotham City."
The moment the name left Howard's lips, Tony turned and walked out without another word.
Maria's body was in the morgue, but Tony didn't go to see her. He'd heard the injuries were too severe—her face had been crushed beyond recognition. The mortuary technician was on the way to begin restoration work.
It was fine. He needed time anyway—to track down the killer.
Only once he had avenged his mother would he go see her again.
That was the only way he could find even a shred of peace.
---
Gotham City.
Reed, still unable to draw the Dr. Manhattan persona card, had no idea about the Stark family conflict.
Not that he had the time to care.
The state of Wayne Enterprises kept him far too occupied.
At this point, Reed was starting to feel like his system wasn't a cheat at all—it was just the reason he got dragged into this world. It felt like he had been brought here only to work for the system.
He remembered how it went in the novels he used to read. The protagonists who drew environment cards would often gain control over not just the setting, but all the characters in it. They obeyed commands.
Not so here.
Everyone in Gotham had their own life. Their own goals. If they were meant to oppose him, they still would.
Take, for example, Mr. Earl—a senior executive at Wayne Enterprises and a partial shareholder.
He had been loudly promoting the narrative that Bruce Wayne was dead, pushing to take the company public and maximize profits. All while scheming to force the Wayne family out of its own legacy.