Valeria's finger hovered in mid-air, the set of red numbers dancing at her fingertips.
No one in the entire conference room responded; even Pietro stopped chewing his sandwich.
Tony stared at the data for three seconds, then slightly raised his chin.
Is there a way to solve this?
Valeria did not answer immediately.
Her fingers flew across her personal terminal, data streams swirling before her eyes, one set of technical parameters after another being brought up, discarded, and brought up again.
For a full eight seconds, the only sound in the conference room was the low-frequency hum of the holographic panel.
"Have."
She tossed a set of 3D structural diagrams onto the conference table. The blue wireframes unfurled in the air, and the dense nodes and circuits intertwined to form a fist-sized device model.
"I have a device solution designed by Reed in my database that can temporarily disable the opponent's time core—making them completely lose their ability to rewind time for a period of time."
Tony had already put two fingers inside the holographic model, turning it over and over to examine its internal structure, nodding as he looked.
The design concept of this thing is very clear -- use high-frequency time particles to create an interference field, severing the connection between the time core and the timeline at the source.
Brilliant, even more brilliant than he had imagined.
"But."
Valeria enlarged the model by a factor of two and poked her finger at the core module.
"This thing has to be made to order. The materials aren't hard to find; your lab basically has them all, but assembly and calibration—that will take at least three days."
"Three days," Tony repeated.
"Three days." Valeria looked at him, enunciating each word clearly. "It's not that I'm dawdling, it's just that the calibration of the time particles themselves requires a natural decay period of seventy-two hours. This can't be accelerated."
Tony withdrew his fingers from the holographic model and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
What are you going to do?
Valeria swiped the data on the terminal, and another device model popped up—three times larger and much more complex than the first.
"Two things. The first is the time core jammer I mentioned earlier; it can be attached to arrows or darts, and it will take effect when it hits him. The second—"
She tapped the second model with her finger, and the model unfolded, with concentric circles spreading outward from the core.
"A range-based time-freezing device. Once activated, the flow of time within a 100-meter radius of the device will be compressed to near zero."
Banner stood up from his chair, walked over to the model, and pushed up his glasses, which weren't actually there.
"Everyone within the freeze area? Including ourselves?"
"Yes." Valeria didn't even look at him. "So you'd better time it right."
"With these two in hand, dealing with Kang is the safest option." She retrieved the terminal and leaned back in her chair. "The jammer disables his save file, and the freezer pins him to the spot. The rest is up to you."
Tony didn't say anything.
He stared at the rotating purple-green armor model above the table, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the surface.
Once. Twice. Three times.
It stopped on the fourth attempt.
He turned around, glanced at everyone present, and a slight upward smirk appeared on his lips.
"I know what to do."
He pointed in a circle with his finger.
" Old Popsicle, Banner, Jane, Pietro, Strange, Natasha, and Clint."
Seven names, all in one breath.
"Let's go find him."
Natasha rose from the shadows in the corner, her live suit gleaming dimly in the light.
"And then what?"
Those three words brought out the questions that were on everyone's mind.
Find an enemy who might have the ability to rewind time, then what?
Kill him instantly, he reverts to a previous save. Group him up and beat him, he reverts to a previous save. Use every means to kill him—he can still revert to a previous save.
Before a signal jammer is invented, isn't this a dead end?
Tony tilted his head.
That smile appeared again.
"Don't give him any time to think." He held up a finger and drew a circle in the air. "Just keep hunting him down. Day and night, while he's eating, while he's going to the bathroom. Keep him there for three days."
The conference room was silent for two seconds.
Steve lowered his arms from their crossed position, placed them on the table, and leaned forward slightly.
This plan sounds absurd at first glance—eight people chasing a time traveler around the world for three days?
But upon closer examination, the logic makes sense. No matter how strong Kang's rollback ability is, there still needs to be a triggering condition.
As long as you don't give him any breathing room, no time to plan, and use absolute pressure to force him into a state of constant running around like a madman...
Only three days.
How exactly do you do it?
Tony leaned against the table, slapped the armor model apart, and rearranged the fragments into a string of data.
"It's simple. Find him, and I'll mock him—that's something I'm good at."
No one disagreed with that.
"Then Banner and Jane will go first, see if they can kill him outright." Tony drew a line between Banner and Jane with his finger. "A nuclear bomb, Thor, a two-pronged approach. If we can take him down completely, that would be best—"
He paused for a moment.
"If that doesn't work, and he rolls back in time—then we still have Plan B, right? Chase him. Chase him until Valeria builds those two things."
Strange pulled one leg back from under the table, his eyes, which were terribly dark-circled, squinting slightly.
He had just canceled two surgeries in three days, and now he has to chase a time traveler all over the world for three more days.
He silently calculated the loss of surgery scheduling over the next three days—but then he thought, forget it, the more he calculated, the more he felt like he was having a heart attack.
" Stark, does your double still count?"
"Calculate."
"Let's go then."
Pietro stuffed the last bite of the sandwich into his mouth, patted the crumbs off with his hands, and looked eager to try it.
Chasing after someone? That's what he's best at.
Clint didn't say a word; he was already checking the arrows in the quiver.
He would pull out each one to check the arrow, confirming it was working properly before putting it back in—a habit honed over twenty years as a secret agent, more honest than words.
In the corner, a hand was weakly raised.
Peter Parker leaned halfway out of his chair, his hand raised low, his posture exactly like a student in class who was afraid of being called on by the teacher but couldn't help wanting to answer questions.
"Uh... Mr. Stark?"
Tony turned his head away.
What about me?
Tony glanced at him.
Peter knew that look all too well— Mr. Stark would look at him like that every time he wanted to go on a mission with the adults.
There was disdain and helplessness inside, but Peter never dared to think too deeply about the layer pressing down at the very bottom.
"You --"
Tony's gaze shifted from Peter to the four girls behind him.
Mary Jane's pen was still hovering above the notebook, Gwen Stacy sat upright, Felicia held a lollipop stick in her mouth and propped her chin up with one hand, and Jessica was still processing the fact that "magic is real."
"You should spend more time with your four girlfriends."
Peter's face flushed instantly. "They're not—I didn't—that—"
Tony stopped looking at him and turned to Black Panther T'Challa, before glancing at Rhodey beside him.
" T'Challa, and Rhodey, keep an eye on this Underoos for me. Don't let him run around."
T'Challa nodded slightly, without saying anything more.
Peter's mouth was still open, but all his explanations were silenced by Tony's retreating figure.
Nanoparticles spread from Tony's chest, covering his entire body, and the helmet finally closed, revealing his two glowing eye slits.
Strange raised his hands, his fingers twirling, and golden sparks tore a circular crack in the air.
On the other side of the rift lies the desert of New Mexico —red sandstone, a gray sky, and the dry Heat Wave that can be felt even through the portal.
Eight people filed in.
The golden portal closed and dissipated behind them, the last spark extinguished.
The conference hall was suddenly mostly empty.
Scott Lang slumped back in his chair, let out a long sigh, and collapsed like a noodle with its bones removed.
Tony Stark is finally gone.
That invisible sense of oppression—the kind he always felt standing next to Tony, the pressure of being ridiculed to the point of social death at any moment for saying the wrong thing—finally dissipated.
He turned his head and looked around.
In the conference room, Hank Pym sat silently in a corner with a sullen face, Black Panther T'Challa leaned against the window, Rhodey stood next to the holographic panel and turned off the data for Kang the Conqueror, Sam Wilson was walking back from the water cooler.
Then there's Peter Parker and the four girls behind him.
The atmosphere subtly relaxed.
This relaxation lasted for less than thirty seconds.
Rhodey, carrying his coffee, walked over to Sam. The two of them stood side by side, watching Peter Parker across from them, frantically explaining to the four girls, "That's not what Mr. Stark meant."
Rhodey took a sip of his coffee.
I bet on the redhead.
Sam turned to look at him. "What?"
"That Parker kid," Rhodey gestured towards Peter with his chin, lowering his voice, "I bet he'll end up with the redhead. Look at that girl, that little notebook she's writing down definitely isn't some interview material."
Sam followed his gaze and saw Mary Jane leaning over to ask Peter something; Peter's ears were so red they could bleed.
"No," Sam shook his head, quite certain. "The blond one. Look at that stance, that look in his eyes—they have such perfect chemistry."
Just then, Gwen Stacy turned her head and smiled at Peter.
Rhodey and Sam were both silent for a second.
"How much to bet?" Sam asked.
"One hundred."
"Too little, five hundred."
Scott suddenly appeared and squeezed his head between the two men.
"I'm betting on the silver-haired one! Look at that aura—that languid, nonchalant attitude—what's it called again—"
"Shut up," Rhodey and Sam said in unison.
"Five hundred it is." Scott wasn't deterred at all, and reached into his pocket. "I've put all my living expenses for next month on the line, plus Cassie's birthday present."
T'Challa remained motionless by the window.
But his head had somehow turned to the side.
"The last one."
All three people looked at him at the same time.
The King of Wakanda stood with his arms crossed, his posture composed, but the words he spoke were completely at odds with his regal bearing.
Jessica.
Rhodey opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Sam's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Scott let out a strange cry.
" T'Challa, even you—"
"Five hundred." T'Challa finished speaking and turned his head back to look out the window, clearly not intending to say another word.
Peter's Spider-Sense was pounding wildly at that moment, but he couldn't discern which direction the danger was coming from.
He felt a chill on the back of his neck, as four pairs of eyes shot at him from behind, making his scalp tingle.
Gwen Stacy grinned and leaned closer, her hands behind her back, craning her neck forward.
Peter.
"Um?"
Who do you want to choose?
Peter opened and closed his mouth three times, but couldn't utter a single complete syllable.
His brain performed a high-speed calculation in that instant—all the answers led to a dead end.
Choosing any name is an instant death sentence, and saying "I won't choose anyone" is an even greater instant death sentence.
Before he could even form a complete sentence, a lollipop stick reached out from the side and blocked his way between him and Gwen Stacy.
Felicia pulled the lollipop out of her mouth, held it up in her hand, and tilted her head to look around at everyone present.
Those green eyes, with a cat-like smile, slowly turned back to Peter.
I think --
She poked Peter's chest with the lollipop stick.
" Spider-Man wants to choose both."
Peter's breath hitched for a moment.
Felicia turned her head and looked at Gwen Stacy.
"Don't you think so, Peter?"