Life with superheroes

Watching Mike leave, Howard retrieved a cellphone from the car and made a call.

When the line connected, he took a deep breath and said, "Carter, the super serum was stolen."

"What?" Peggy Carter's voice shot through the receiver. "What happened?"

After a pause, her tone sharpened. "Is there a traitor? Are you alright?"

"We'll share the details later," Howard replied bitterly, glancing at Maria. "We've suffered some injuries and need time to rest."

"As you should. Stay safe," Peggy whispered before hanging up.

Howard chuckled softly and turned to Maria. "Let's leave and find a hospital for a proper 'rest.'"

As he stepped out of the car, covered in wounds, his thoughts churned. Retirement, the company, family, S.H.I.E.L.D.—everything flashed before his eyes.

Standing close, Maria lightly tapped his head and smiled. "You really are…"

"During this time, I think Tony should take over the company," Howard mused aloud.

"Hmm?" Maria stared at him, surprised. She knew the gravity of that decision.

Howard grasped her hand, his voice tender. "I want to spend more time with you."

Maria was so moved that she buried her head in his chest, trembling slightly.

Meanwhile, in Mike's car, Clark looked away from the scene and recounted every word Howard and Maria exchanged.

Mike, unimpressed, quipped, "These two really don't fear death. Aren't they worried the killer might return? And yet, they're showing off their love in the middle of the night for the stars to see."

Clark: "?"

Mike turned to his younger son. "Charles?"

Sitting up straight, Charles yawned and said, "When Mr. Stark agreed to Dad's request earlier, he was genuine. No lies."

Mike hummed softly. Though he had exposed his abilities, it didn't bother him. If there had been any intention of betrayal, Charles would have erased Howard's memories on the spot.

"By the way, Eric did well earlier."

Eric chuckled proudly from the back seat.

As the family returned home, washed up, and prepared for bed, the Winter Soldier reached a secluded base.

Pressing on his wound and clutching the stolen serum, he stood silently before a group of people. His demeanor remained as emotionless as a machine.

"Injured?"

The question came from a short, bald man with glasses—Dr. Arnim Zola. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of the Winter Soldier's condition.

"Did something unexpected occur?"

Howard Stark couldn't have inflicted such injuries on him.

"A man intervened and saved them," the Winter Soldier stated flatly.

"Who?"

"I don't know him, but he was strong."

"Hand over the serum and go treat your wounds," Zola commanded.

Without a word, the Winter Soldier handed over the briefcase and left, his movements as mechanical as ever.

"Dr. Zola, what now?" one of the operatives asked nervously.

Howard Stark's survival was a loose end that could spell trouble.

Zola considered for a moment before replying, "Dispose of some expendable assets and keep a low profile for now."

Seeing hesitation among the others, Zola offered a sly smile. "Relax. S.H.I.E.L.D. was their creation. To them, it's like a child. No one easily suspects their child of turning into a 'villain.'"

He continued, "Even if they notice irregularities, they'll likely dismiss them as minor flaws that need correction."

Having worked alongside Howard and Peggy Carter for decades, Zola understood their mindsets all too well.

The group exhaled collectively, their tension easing.

Zola added, "Deliver the serums to our allies. In return, ensure they fulfill their promises to us. Everything must proceed smoothly."

Despite the failed assassination attempt on Howard and Maria Stark, Zola remained unfazed. The truth of Hydra's existence? It no longer mattered.

After all, Hydra had been 'eliminated' long ago—destroyed by Howard and his allies. And S.H.I.E.L.D.?

Well, S.H.I.E.L.D. was Hydra now.

Smirking, Zola turned and walked away, leaving the room in silence.

The attempt on Howard Stark's life sent shockwaves through S.H.I.E.L.D., triggering an internal purge. Simultaneously, Tony Stark officially took the reins of Stark Industries, a transition that made headlines across the city, the nation, and even the world.

Speculation ran rampant. Some claimed Howard had outlived his brilliance; others argued he retired at the right time. Still, others whispered that Tony had pressured his father into stepping down.

Amidst the chaos, none of this concerned Mike.

Instead, he faced a more immediate crisis: Christmas gifts.

With the holiday fast approaching, Mike needed to prepare three presents.

Sitting at the table, he mentally reviewed his previous years' choices. Toy guns, comic books, clothes, magic wands… He groaned inwardly.

Then, inspiration struck.

"Bicycles!"

It was the perfect solution. The kids were old enough to need something practical, and the bikes would double as exercise. Plus, they'd no longer need him to pick them up from school—freeing up his time. A win-win!

Meanwhile, in the living room, Clark listened to music while Charles and Eric were absorbed in books.

Yes, you read that right—books.

Since their experience at the circus, the two younger boys had matured noticeably. Though still mischievous at times, they now carried themselves with a newfound seriousness.

Mike watched them with a quiet smile before discreetly using his teleportation skill card to leave.

Shopping for Christmas gifts these days required stealth. Maintaining an element of surprise for three clever kids was no easy task.

He reappeared on an inconspicuous street corner in New York City and began his search for a bicycle store. After some time, he found one and selected three sports bikes in different colors: blue, black, and white.

After paying and collecting the bikes, Mike found a quiet spot to teleport back home.

The convenience of teleportation was something he appreciated more and more.

However, the ability had its limits—long-distance teleportation could only be performed once or twice a day. Overusing it gave Mike a sense of unease.

Back home, he carefully hid the bikes before heading to the kitchen to prepare lunch.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and there was still one crucial task left: finding the perfect Christmas tree.

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