Thinking back now to his father's intriguing attitude toward Mavuika—that mixture of respect, courtesy, and even caution... Tony suddenly understood.
His father had known all along!
Howard had known about Mavuika's abilities, known that he was not an ordinary person, and known that he possessed power beyond human comprehension.
That was why he had acted that way...
And... after all this time, not a single person had told him any of this.
Not his father, not his mother, and not even Mavuika himself.
It was as if they were keeping a huge secret, and Tony had been kept in the dark the whole time.
A complex wave of emotions surged into Tony's heart, but soon, another, more urgent feeling overwhelmed everything else.
For Mavuika to suddenly reveal his abilities in front of him, even flying away without regard for the risk of exposing his identity... could something terrible have happened?
Tony's heart skipped a beat. He immediately turned and rushed to the workbench, grabbed the phone, and dialed Howard's number.
The receiver emitted a busy tone—once, twice, three times... no answer.
Tony hung up and redialed, but still, there was no answer.
He tried calling his mother's number with the same result; Maria's phone could not be reached either.
Tony's heart gradually sank. A sense of foreboding wrapped around his heart like cold vines, tightening with every passing moment.
He put down the phone and paced back and forth in the room, his mind racing.
He grabbed his car keys and rushed out of the workshop. He needed to go to the Villa, needed to see if his parents were home, needed to...
...
At this moment, in the remote northern part of New York State, on a secluded country road.
The night was deep, the moonlight obscured by clouds, with only sparse starlight barely illuminating the road.
This was a secondary road connecting two small towns; traffic was usually light, and at night, it was completely deserted.
Dense woods lined both sides of the road, and the wind blowing through them made a rustling sound, like countless whispers.
A sedan had crashed into a tree by the side of the road.
The impact was violent. Although it hadn't reached the point of total destruction, it was enough to severely deform the front of the car, pop the hood, and shatter the windshield into a spiderweb pattern.
The airbags had deployed, looking like two white Mushrooms inside the dim car.
The sedan was emitting white smoke—it was the white steam produced by a leaking coolant.
The headlights were still on, flickering on and off like the breath of a dying creature.
Inside the car, Howard and Maria were sitting in the driver and passenger seats.
Howard's forehead had struck the steering wheel, leaving a gash. Blood trickled down his cheek, dripping onto the white airbag and blooming into dark red flowers.
His glasses were broken, the lenses scattered on his lap. A sharp pain in his chest told him that he might have fractured ribs.
Maria's condition was slightly better, but not optimistic. She had abrasions on her face, but she was still conscious.
"Howard..." Maria's voice trembled, filled with pain and fear, "Are you alright?"
Howard tried to answer, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he coughed up a mouthful of blood.
He shook his head, signaling that he was fine, or at least still alive...
Then, he struggled to lift his hand, fumbling to unbuckle his seatbelt.
Today, Howard and his wife had left S.H.I.E.L.D. and were on their way home as usual. Everything was normal until twenty minutes ago.
No one knew that he was carrying five vials of the Super Soldier Serum developed during the war.
This was a top-secret mission for S.H.I.E.L.D. These serums were a legacy of the "Rebirth Project" during World War II and had been sealed in a secret S.H.I.E.L.D. warehouse.
Recently, because the warehouse needed to upgrade its security system, these serums needed to be temporarily transferred to another location. Howard, as one of the original participants in the project, was assigned to be in charge of this transfer.
It was supposed to be a confidential and safe operation. The route was carefully planned, the time was chosen at night, the vehicle was bulletproof, and there was even an alternative route to deal with contingencies.
But halfway there, they were attacked.
The attack was sudden and precise. A motorcycle rushed out from a side road and crashed directly into the side of the car.
The impact caused the vehicle to lose control. Howard fought to steer the wheel, but they still crashed into a tree by the side of the road.
The attacker was riding a motorcycle and dressed in black. He was clearly professionally trained; the angle and timing of the impact were calculated perfectly, disabling the target vehicle without causing immediate death to the occupants.
Now, the attacker was walking toward the two of them.
The motorcycle was left casually in the middle of the road, its headlight still on, casting a pool of flickering light.
The attacker's pace was unhurried, terrifyingly calm, as if he were taking a stroll rather than committing a crime.
Howard gathered his strength and reached his right hand into his suit's inner pocket.
His fingers fumbled and gripped the crystal. Without hesitation, Howard used his last bit of strength to crush it.
There was no sound when the crystal shattered, nor were there any shards flying about.
It was like a mass of solidified light that silently dissipated under pressure, turning into countless tiny specks of light that drifted from between Howard's fingers and vanished into the air.
Hopefully, it would be in time...
Howard leaned back against the seat, closed his eyes, and waited.
Every second felt as long as a century. He could hear the attacker's approaching footsteps, could hear Maria's suppressed sobbing, and could hear the violent beating of his own heart.
Moonlight leaked through the gaps in the clouds, illuminating the attacker.
It was a tall figure, with solid muscles and movements as coordinated as a cheetah.
He walked to the driver's side and stopped.
Howard opened his eyes and looked at the figure through the shattered windshield.
The attacker extended his left hand.
In the dim light, Howard could see clearly that it was a thick, metallic arm.
Not an exoskeleton, not armor, but an arm made entirely of metal with a precise joint system.
The silver-gray surface reflected the moonlight, and the fingers made faint mechanical sounds as they opened and closed.
The metal hand gripped the car door handle.
Then, with brute force, the attacker ripped the entire door off.
The sound of tearing metal was ear-piercing enough to set one's teeth on edge. The reinforced door was ripped open like a piece of paper; hinges snapped, and bolts flew off.
The car door was casually tossed aside, rolling a few times on the road with a clatter before finally coming to a stop in the grass.
The attacker leaned down, reached his metal arm into the car, and grabbed Howard by the collar.
Howard was yanked out of the driver's seat. The metal fingers were cold and hard, choking him until he could barely breathe.
He was lifted into mid-air, his feet off the ground, like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.
By the light of the moon and the car's headlights, Howard finally saw the attacker's face clearly.