Beautiful girl

"You all know what to say, right?"

Mark's berserker state had gone into cooldown. He shot a glare at Yuri, who'd been all smiles and apologies, then fixed his gaze on Yinsen—out of danger but still unconscious—and Tony, who had him on his back.

"Yuri tossed two smoke grenades, those idiots panicked and started shooting each other, then the two of you came in and finished them off one by one to rescue us."

Tony spouted the bald-faced truth without flinching, then glanced at the harmless-looking Yinsen and added, "No suicidal terrorist leader, no Tony Stark being controlled..."

Catching Yuri's unfriendly look, he gave an awkward chuckle: "Just two fearless, resourceful elite mercenaries about to pocket ten million bucks."

Mark: "Perfect."

A dozen helicopters rumbled down slowly, their rotors kicking up a storm of dust. Yuri scanned the black friend of Tony's who'd made his entrance like Colonel Rhodes in the Avengers, and reminded, "That's twenty-one million, Mr. Stark. You forgot to add the commission."

"Whatever~"

Tony hitched Yinsen higher on his back and strode toward Colonel Rhodes, the only soldier among the troops not standing guard with a weapon: "Hey, Rhodes! Wire the money to these two elite mercs right now—not a dollar less, but not a cent more!"

Rhodes glanced at Yuri and Mark, surrounded by a full squad of soldiers. He'd already read their files: one was a long-time career mercenary, the other a New York citizen chasing thrills as a summer intern in the Middle East.

The latter kid was a bit out there, but neither raised any red flags.

He helped lift Yinsen onto a stretcher, then supported Tony as they boarded the plane, asking, "Sounds like you didn't get along too well with them?"

"Damn Afghanistan!"

Tony cursed without answering directly: "I'm never coming here again!"

Weapons surrendered, body searches, interrogations...

Yuri and Mark went through that routine on the helicopter, then got put through it all over again at the base after landing.

Anyway, the tunnel and the house had been burned clean by the fire—whatever happened inside was up to the three arsonists to decide.

After sampling the standard American soldier breakfast, Yuri watched Mark brush off envious mercenary teammates one after another, then tapped his plate: "You've made this much money. You still going to keep at it?"

Mark took a big gulp of ice-cold soda—alcohol was banned on base: "Why not? Me and Yinsen are in the same boat—alone in the world... If I went back to settle down in the city, with my temper, I'd be better off staying a mercenary!"

He finished the soda and lit a cigarette with practiced ease: "What about you? Summer's almost over. Time to head back and start college?"

"What else?"

Yuri cleared his eighth plate. He might look human, but when it came to appetite, he was a perfect heir to the Mutants.

Luckily, his energy conversion efficiency was sky-high—he barely ever had to go—and he constantly absorbed cosmic energy, so eating or not, eating a lot or a little, never left him hungry.

Right now, he was just stuffing himself to freeload off capitalism.

He stacked the plates and walked with Mark toward the dish return station: "Still, I'd suggest you come back with me. It's Tony Stark's private jet—who knows, maybe there'll be a few ladies on board to soothe his wounded little heart?"

Mark paused, exchanged a look with Yuri, and broke into a knowing grin: "You've got a point. I think that's a damn good idea!"

An hour later.

The two followed Tony's bodyguard, Happy, carrying their luggage onto a brand-new private jet. Happy's figure hadn't gone to seed yet—his broad frame was still more imposing than fat.

"I could take him three times over."

Mark noticed Yuri's gaze and tried to change the subject: after all, this was Tony Stark's private plane. In the tunnel, he could push Tony around, but in the real world, the Stark family was out of reach for ordinary people.

"I could take him nine times over."

Yuri grinned at Mark, dodged the latter's frustrated punch, and followed Happy toward the small lounge in the middle of the plane.

"Listen, Tony!"

Yinsen's voice rang out—weak but rock-solid: "It's an honor to be your friend, but I will never work for Stark Industries."

"I know it's not your fault, but those missiles stamped with 'Stark' really did kill my family... Let's change the subject. How about that unfinished Iron Man of yours?"

Tony saw Yuri and Mark approaching, rolled his eyes in annoyance, and his little mustache twitched mischievously: "Oh, the two shameless freeloaders have arrived."

Yinsen turned his head and nodded respectfully: "Mr. Ambrosius."

Yuri nodded back, pulled the slightly stiff Mark down onto the soft leather sofa, stretched comfortably, and picked up on Yinsen's earlier topic: "Did I just hear something about... 'Iron Man'? Tony, mind letting me in on it?"

Tony took a small sip of his drink, his bandaged, band-aid-covered face turning away, refusing to meet the speaker's eyes: "First, you misheard. Second, yes, I mind."

"Really?"

"Really!"

"Fine."

Yuri unzipped his backpack and calmly pulled out a few sheets of paper covered in parameters and part sketches. Dodging the spray of Tony's drink, he spread the papers out and held them up: "So, want to talk about this big guy now?"

"Ten million!"

"Too little."

"Twenty million!"

"Too little."

"Fifty million! Not a cent more!"

Yuri looked at Tony's furious expression, smiled, and handed the papers over: "Deal!"

Tony snatched the blueprints, but in the process accidentally tugged at his wound, wincing in pain. He carefully flipped through them to make sure nothing was missing, muttering "Mother fucker" under his breath the whole time...

Mark secretly gave a thumbs-up from below, while Yinsen across from him raised an eyebrow at Yuri.

Heaven have mercy!

On this massive private jet, Happy might have been the only one standing on the same side as Tony.

"So... Mr. Stark."

Mark spoke his first words since entering the Living Room: "Is there, uh... you know... like..."

"Beautiful girl."

Helpful Yuri, seeing Mark struggling so much, took the initiative to voice what he wanted to say.

Tony's eyes peeked out from behind the blueprints, filled with contempt for the LSP: "No!"

"Oh no~"

"Oh no~"

Mark glanced at the drifting white clouds outside the window and the sun flickering in and out of the mist: "If I went back now, would it still be in time?"