A Three-Year-Old Only Reads Comics (Seeking Collection)

The midday sun hung high in the sky like a fiery ball, baking the earth below.

At a newsstand on Brooklyn Street in New York City.

A somewhat overweight white young man seemed to have just returned from lunch.

Closing the door, he placed a fresh stack of the latest Daily Bugle newspapers in the most prominent spot of the stand.

"Even if it came late, it still sells well."

Even such simple work left him drenched in sweat.

He casually wiped his face with his arm.

The young man couldn't wait to plop his heavy frame down onto a chair.

As if suddenly remembering something, he twisted with difficulty, slowly pulling a cheap pack of cigarettes from the side pocket of his baggy shorts.

Pfft.

With no regard for the risk of setting himself ablaze, he lit the cigarette.

"Ahh... feels good!"

Half-closing his eyes, he slowly blew out a smoke ring, as if this were his happiest moment.

"Sonny, could you hand me a newspaper? Thank you."

An old man with graying hair and a hunched back had somehow appeared outside the newsstand.

"There, they're all there. Pick one yourself. Five cents each. Don't forget to pay."

Half-closing his eyes, he pointed a finger toward the newspapers and blew out another smoke ring, filling the entire stand with cheap secondhand smoke.

The old man straightened up with effort, reached for a copy of the Daily Bugle, and fished a five-cent coin from his pocket, placing it slowly on the counter.

"Young people these days..." Sighing, the old man sat on a bench by the roadside and began reading his paper.

"Superman in New York? Hah, what an interesting world..."

Reading the paper in his hands, the old man wore a faint, enigmatic smile.

Whoosh!

A gentle breeze swept through the hot air, bringing an indescribable sense of refreshment.

"Give me a paper, please."

"There, over there. Grab one yourself, and don't forget to pay five cents."

Same routine.

But just as the young man, half-dozing and savoring the nicotine-induced pleasure, felt a wave of icy cold brush past his face.

Even in the scorching midday heat, the unshaven stubble on his chin instantly frosted over.

The biting chill made him shiver, and he snapped his eyes open.

The next moment, the cigarette dangling from his lips—already extinguished by the cold—fell to the ground.

He shot up like a scalded cat, his whole body jiggling.

"Hehe, Mr. Superman, hello. Here's your paper."

"Mr. Superman, no need to pay. Consider it a gift from me."

"Young man, remember to strive for excellence in everything you do!"

The old man on the bench had somehow risen, leaving only those words and a hunched silhouette behind.

Swish!

Watching the figure vanish into the sky with envy, the young man wiped the nonexistent cold sweat from his forehead.

Then, staring at the five-cent coin deeply embedded in the stainless steel countertop, he fell silent.

"The greatest superhero in human history—Superman—appears in New York City. This is New York's fortune, and all of humanity's fortune!"

In the office of Obadiah Stane at Stark Industries.

"These Daily Bugle editors are getting better at crafting attention-grabbing headlines."

Tossing the Daily Bugle he'd just glanced at onto his desk.

Obadiah Stane walked over to his workstation.

Then he opened a heavily encrypted file on his private computer.

"Jericho Missile. Hmph, Tony Stark, you really are a genius to rival your father."

"Too bad you're just as stubborn and inflexible as he was."

With a few clicks, he sent the file—representing Stark Industries' highest classified data (weapons overview only)—along with a pre-written letter, to an unknown IP address.

Obadiah Stane shut down the computer and strode to the window, looking down to take in nearly all of New York City.

"Superman? Tony Stark? Power? A genius mind?"

"Hmph. In this world, capital calls the shots after all. Whoever has the most money truly rules it."

As if struck by a thought, Obadiah turned and walked to his desk, picking up the phone.

"Hello, General Ross..."

"That's right. I'm accepting that special weapons order on behalf of Stark Industries."

"Don't hang up just yet. I can throw in an extra deal for the military..."

"Haha. Well then, pleasure doing business."

Hanging up the phone, a sinister smile flickered across Obadiah's face.

The next moment, his expression shifted to one of warm affability as he looked toward the office door, where a blonde, blue-eyed beauty was about to knock. He spoke slowly.

"Come in, Ms. Potts. You're just in time. We've just received two major orders from the military—a full five billion dollars. I hope you can notify Tony as soon as possible."

"Mr. Stan, with orders like these... will Stark Industries be able to..."

As the executive secretary, Pepper Potts, after a brief look at the accepted orders, felt that they might not be able to fulfill them.

"Don't worry, Ms. Potts. You know Tony, don't you? He's the most brilliant weapons engineer humanity has today. No difficulty can stump him."

"Alright, Mr. Stan. I'll pass it on to Mr. Stark."

As a secretary, Pepper's authority was limited. Raising a question was already the best she could do.

That night, in a luxurious villa on Malibu Beach, far away in Los Angeles.

Tony Stark had just returned from some banquet, two beautiful blondes in tow, and finally put an end to his explosive nightlife.

Unable to sleep, he pulled his hand away from a soft, curvaceous body, left the bedroom thick with strange scents, and headed down to the villa's underground lab.

"Hey, J.A.R.V.I.S., let's see what new projects we've got lately."

Swirling a glass of expensive 1992 vintage wine, Tony called out into the air.

"Sir, I've just received two new orders from your company. There are some documents I'd like you to review."

A magnetic voice rang out, and a virtual projection instantly appeared on the lab table in front of Tony.

"Hmm, this is..."

Glancing at the two files on the visual desktop, Tony's expression remained casual.

He tossed the priceless wine into the trash without a second thought, then tapped open one of the files in midair.

"Recreate the Super Soldier Serum Experiment? Gamma Radiation Mutation? The Green Giant..."

As he read through the file, Tony's face grew increasingly serious.

"Those idiots in the military. Always making trouble."

After a quick skim, he felt this order might be a bit of a challenge. Then he opened the second file.

"You've got to be kidding me? How could there possibly be a Superman in this world?"

The moment he opened the second file, Tony was already deeply skeptical of its authenticity.

"Sir, here is today's latest media coverage on Superman, the original video from the press conference, and numerous photos online claimed to be taken by passersby of Superman in flight."

As J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice faded, the virtual projection filled with videos and blurry images of Superman.

"Did Superman really just jump out of a comic book?"

Tony still couldn't believe it.

"Mr. Stark, would you like to view the Superman comics? They contain a detailed introduction to the character, which may assist you in completing the order."

"Ridiculous. Only three-year-olds read comics."

Tony seemed to hold comic readers in deep contempt.

"Warning, there is—"

J.A.R.V.I.S.'s warning had barely begun when Tony's figure had already vanished from the underground lab.

"..."

Even the most advanced Artificial Intelligence, J.A.R.V.I.S., was frozen for a few seconds.

"Activating emergency protocol. Contacting Ms. Pepper Potts..."