Silver Superman (Marvel)

Tony Stark didn't know why Ethan had called him that, but it didn't matter.

Because he was Iron Man—and Iron Man was him.

"Hello, greatest writer of this century," Tony greeted with his usual charisma.

"I have to admit, you're not only a talented writer—you've got an impressive knack for financial management, too. Buying Stark Industries stock when everyone else was panicking… Looks like you've got a lot of faith in the company."

Every sentence seemed to compliment Ethan, yet it was obvious Tony was indirectly praising himself.

Still, Tony had every right to be confident—his brilliance and achievements spoke for themselves.

Pepper Potts and Happy Hogan were used to this side of Tony, and Ethan didn't mind either.

If I had Tony's abilities, I'd probably be even more arrogant, Ethan thought with a smirk.

After all, if you don't show ambition when you're young, then when will you?

"Compared to Stark Industries, I trust my own instincts," Ethan replied calmly.

Tony chuckled. "I've read your Terminator series—the robot designs were pretty unique. Not gonna lie, the concept gave me a few ideas when I was working on the Mark armor."

Ethan's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

So my books actually inspired Iron Man's suit?

"But that AI—Skynet? Not exactly the best example. If I were in charge, it wouldn't stand a chance of rebelling," Tony added with confidence.

J.A.R.V.I.S. was his creation—perfectly loyal and completely under his control. Unlike Skynet, J.A.R.V.I.S. would never go rogue.

Ethan simply smiled, saying nothing.

Just wait until you create Ultron…

Pepper raised an eyebrow. Tony rarely chatted this much with someone he'd just met.

Maybe it's a connection between geniuses, she thought.

To her, both Tony and Ethan were brilliant in their respective fields—one a technological pioneer, the other a literary mastermind.

"By the way, Pepper," Tony said, "there are some of our business partners over there. Could you go say hello for me?"

Pepper glanced in the direction Tony indicated. Indeed, a few familiar faces were gathered there—former collaborators of Stark Industries.

"Alright," she said politely, offering Ethan a small smile before walking away.

Then Tony turned to Happy, pulling out a car key.

"Happy, I think my car's not parked right. Go adjust it—make sure the front faces inward."

"Sure thing, Tony."

As Happy walked off, Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly.

He sent both Pepper and Happy away…

Although Ethan didn't know what Tony was planning, he didn't question it.

With the others gone, Tony approached the bar and set down his glass.

"Whiskey, thanks," he told the bartender, throwing in a playful wink.

Then, turning to Ethan with a smirk, he said, "Man, the girls tonight are top-notch, huh?"

"Yeah. If you hadn't chased them away, I'd still be talking to them," Ethan replied with a chuckle.

"Alright, cut to the chase. What do you want from me?"

Tony swirled his whiskey, his expression turning serious.

"I wanted to ask… In your Terminator universe, what kind of energy powers those robots? Do you think it's possible to recreate something like that in real life?"

As soon as he asked, Tony let out a breath as if releasing a weight from his shoulders.

Even though it sounded crazy—asking a science fiction writer about real-world energy solutions—Tony had run out of options.

The palladium in his arc reactor was slowly poisoning him, and despite J.A.R.V.I.S.'s simulations, no alternative element on Earth could replace it.

Unless he found a solution soon, he was going to die.

Ethan quickly pieced together what Tony was hinting at.

So that's what's bothering him—the palladium poisoning.

"Honestly, the arc reactor you already have is more advanced than anything from Terminator," Ethan replied.

"And as for whether it's possible… Well, you're the genius scientist, not me."

Tony's face darkened slightly.

When the bartender handed him the whiskey, he forced a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

He's right. I've tried everything—and the only element that works is palladium.

Tony had only asked Ethan on the off chance that he might hear a different answer—something that could spark a new idea.

But there was no miracle solution.

"Thanks for answering, Ethan."

Raising his glass, Tony clinked it against Ethan's in a silent toast.

Then, without another word, he slipped into the crowd and headed toward the exit.

"Why'd he leave so fast?" Ethan muttered, puzzled.

But it wasn't surprising.

The palladium poisoning was slowly driving Tony to despair. It wouldn't be long before he handed over control of Stark Industries to Pepper and gave the War Machine armor to Rhodes—preparing for the day he wouldn't be around anymore.

If he hadn't left so fast, I would've given him a hint… Ethan thought.

Oh well, there'll be another chance later.

Besides, Tony should be meeting a certain red-haired "legal assistant" named Natalie Rushman right about now…

Back at the Bar.

Ethan leaned against the counter, sipping his drink as guests occasionally stopped by to say hello.

Then, suddenly, the atmosphere shifted.

It was as if an invisible force had rippled through the room. Conversations quieted. People stepped aside as if instinctively making way for someone.

Ethan looked up.

A woman with fiery red hair stood at the entrance.

Her emerald green eyes swept across the crowd with quiet confidence. There was something both captivating and intimidating about her presence—as if she carried a power that others could sense but not comprehend.

Unlike Ethan, who simply admired her beauty, the other guests watched her with thinly veiled fear.

Jean Grey, Ethan realized immediately.

A Mutant—and one of the most powerful telepaths and telekinetics alive.

The people here recognized her as a member of the X-Men. But with anti-Mutant sentiment on the rise—especially after Magneto's recent attacks—they viewed her presence as a threat rather than an honor.

Whispers began to spread through the crowd:

"Why's that Mutant here?"

"Is she trying to manipulate someone's mind?"

"Better stay away from her. Who knows what she's planning?"

As if repelled by an invisible force, the crowd slowly backed away, creating a wide gap around Jean.

She could hear their thoughts—every cruel whisper, every ounce of fear and prejudice.

But her expression remained calm as she made her way through the ballroom.

To Ethan's surprise, she was heading straight toward him.

Several women who had been considering approaching Ethan suddenly changed their minds and quickly turned away.

Stopping beside him, Jean extended her hand with a soft smile.

"Hello, Mr. Ethan," she said politely.

"My name is Jean Grey. I'm a fan of your work."

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