Yet his eyes revealed an entirely different core—they were sharp, focused, gleaming with an almost coldly professional light.
His gaze did not linger on people. Instead, with alarming speed and efficiency, he swiftly and covertly scanned every critical point in the Containment Zone: the routes and connection points of the energy conduits as thick as bowls that linked to the core device; the exposed maintenance panels and heat vents on the bases of the Field Generators; the blind spots in the Sensor Array layout and possible locations for signal interference;
Even the routes and load-bearing structures of the seemingly ordinary cable trenches in the floor, covered by metal grates, were carefully "licked" over by those predator-like eyes.
That was not the gaze of a safety assessor. It was the gaze of someone on a battlefield searching for enemy firing positions, calculating the best places to plant explosives, assessing a target's vital weak points. It was filled with purpose, aggression, and a cold, calculating greed.
A chill shot up Tony's spine.
He knew that look too well—not from charity galas, but from the faces of arms dealers in shadowy black markets and corporate spies trying to steal the Arc Reactor's core data.
But Rumlow's gaze was even worse.
It had been stripped of greed's frenzy, leaving only pure, machine-like calculation and hunting instinct.
That look had no place on a senior S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, especially while evaluating a device tied to the survival of the entire world.
Tony quietly drew a deep breath of cold, dry air tinged with metal and ozone.
The biting chill seemed to briefly freeze the exhaustion churning in his marrow.
He forced himself to straighten the back that had begun to hunch slightly from prolonged work.
Beneath that mask of weary arrogance, Iron Man's absolute focus and