Coney Island, New York.

If someone looked down from the air at this moment, they would definitely be shocked by this spectacular scene - the sea of ​​people that could not be seen at first sight flooded the entire street in front of the white cube building, and the atmosphere was as hot as the air was ignited, reminding people of the crazy fans surrounding the stars coming out at the entrance of the hotel. However, their target today is not rock stars, but the famous Tony Stark... Well, maybe the difference is not very big.

In the past, Tony Stark would definitely choose any one of his garage luxury cars and make a grand appearance in front of people's cheers and flashing cameras, but since last year, he has been different.

He is even more arrogant now.

"In the sky!"

Someone took the lead and shouted, and all his eyes and cameras turned to the blue sky. A black dot appeared on the blue sky, which quickly enlarged in everyone's vision, dragging the gorgeous tail flames and playing aerobatics. Iron Man stepped on the flames and flexibly swooped down with difficult movements such as somersaults. The fanatical crowd consciously gave up a piece of open space. The steel body fell down like a rocket, and a circle of transparent yellow dust burst out under the jet boots.

People cheered and surrounded by Iron Man. He waved to the camera skillfully like a big-name star. Then the armor split up. Tony Stark, a suit, came out of the armor, and the armor closed and locked in the spot in an attentive position, like a soldier standing guard.

Tony entered the building and, led by relevant personnel, went straight to the top floor. The camera and the photographer were already ready. A middle-aged man in a shirt walked up with a kind smile and shook hands with Tony.

"John Pilinger, Mr. Stark," he introduced himself.

Tony nodded: "Hello, Mr. Pirin, I like the documentary you made."

"Thank you, you're a very nice person."

After shaking hands, Tony raised his wrist and glanced at his watch, saying, "Sorry, I'm very tight, Mr. Pilinger, so we might as well start quickly... Can you tell me the title of the movie again?"

"The Ghost of the Twentieth Century, Mr. Stark."

"Okay." Pilinger gestured to the photographer, "Then let's start shooting... Let's start with a simple question, Mr. Stark. Is it fair to define himself as an arms dealer?"

"I don't think so." Tony thought for a while and added, "Okay, I don't deny it either."

“But you design the weapons for sale.”

"I did design a lot of weapons for the US military."

"I remember your genius invention, and the masses remember... your 'loo bomb' can fire hundreds of intelligent micro-bombs, right?"

"Yes, that's my early work, designed to bomb the airport and the escort fleet."

"That maybe you'll be interested in these photos."

Pilinger leaned forward and pulled out a dozen photos from the folder and pushed them along the table to Tony. Tony picked up the photos and glanced at them, frowned.

It was a photo from a war correspondent. The picture vividly painted the miserable situation of innocent people under the smoke of war. The interweaving of flames and blood formed a lifelike picture, which was vividly displayed in front of them by the photographer's hand. Through the photos, it seemed that the choking smell of gunpowder could be vaguely smelled.

"Each small bomb has the power of three explosives, and the last time this batch of bombs was probably thousands, 80% of which were scattered in various parts of the war zone and have not been recycled yet, and at least half of them have not been detonated on the spot." Pilinger said, "Their timers were damaged in the war and were discarded everywhere on the battlefield. Even children can be picked up everywhere. You know what the consequences will be."

Tony frowned and thought for a moment, throwing the photo on the table.

"I've never made weapons," Tony said, "What do you want to express? Mr. Pilinger?"

"Then I'll just ask you." Pilinger said, pausing, deliberately increasing his tone, "How many weapons are there... to give you the inspiration to develop the "Iron Man"?"

He stared into Tony's eyes as if he wanted to see through his soul.

Austin, Texas.

"Yes, our plan has been leaked, we have lost a sample...I'm sorry, sir, we are working hard now, but we have to submit you to General Fisher... No, Killian he's busy right now."

The sound of a woman talking on the phone came from outside the wall. Aldridge Killian held a cigarette in his mouth and wrapped his hands in front of his chest. His dull eyes stared at the computer screen through the smoke in front of him.

A document was opened on the computer screen, and the cursor was still flashing at the last word, and it seemed that he had just finished typing.

"They knew that the desperate virus had leaked, and the management was in chaos, and everyone was helpless." The document read, "Maya Hansen just got angry again, and she has not been happy in the past few days. It was only a matter of time before the thief was arrested, but what had happened could not be changed. This is our mistake and must be corrected, and I have to do it."

He carefully read the document several times until the cigarette was burned out, and Killian crushed it into the ashtray and pressed the print key on the keyboard. The printer yelled "buzzing" and spit out the print content for a moment.

Killian took out the paper with expressionless expression and swept it, then threw it on the table. Then he pulled open the drawer on one side, took out a black pistol, opened the security with a "click", and pointed his finger on the bridge of his nose.

At the last moment, he actually showed a strange smile.

"Bang!"

The loud gunshots resounded throughout the building.

The rapid and crisp sound of high heels colliding with the floor quickly approached. The brunette woman in a white coat pushed open the door and quickly entered the room. She was Maya Hansen, the person in charge here, and the developer of the desperate virus in "Iron Man 3".

Aldridge Killian, the final boss of the original "Iron Man 3", was lying on his desk, holding a pistol in his hand, and a big hole was penetrated through the back of his head, and blood spread from the table to the floor.

Maya Hansen covered her mouth, but she didn't scream. She picked up the paper on the printer and browsed, and her pupils shrank in surprise.

More footsteps came outside.

"Dr. Hanson? We heard the gunshots, what happened over there?"

Maya walked out of Killian's office and raised the documents in her hand.

"Kirian committed suicide, but he confessed that he stole the desperate virus." Maya said with a gloomy face. "The virus is not in his hands now, he gave it to someone else... I hope the situation will not become as bad as I thought."
Chapter completed!