Marvel's Iron Lady

Miss Stark stayed in South Korea for about a month and a half, during which the development of the Extremis Virus gradually reached its conclusion.

On the other hand, with the generous provision of high-precision biological science and technology laboratory equipment and free lab assistants by the South Korean government, Miss Stark also managed to advance a small portion of the research process for the nanotechnology integration of her Iron Man suit during her spare time.

Since it was Miss Stark who brought the project, she naturally held ownership of it rather than the South Korean government.

Indeed—Miss Stark would never hand over the related technologies of the Extremis Virus to the South Korean government.

However, as a return gesture, she allowed Helen to incorporate a small portion of the results into the newly established Regeneration Cradle project.

The Regeneration Cradle project belonged to Helen. She had been planning it for many years, and Miss Stark essentially traded technology for shares.

With the dual technological support of ECM cell technology and the Extremis Virus, the Regeneration Cradle project immediately took off.

Even with just a small portion of the technological shares, it was enough to bring Miss Stark an annual income of hundreds of millions of dollars.

Of course—that's in the future, and for her future self, hundreds of millions of dollars wouldn't be much.

However, for now, given that she had yet to inherit the company and that the board of directors held tight control, these hundreds of millions in additional annual income were crucial for Miss Stark, who was currently strapped for cash.

It was only with these technological dividends that she could gather enough resources to start her research projects.

On the other hand, Miss Stark always harbored a deep disdain for the group controlling her family's company.

After staying in South Korea for about two months, Miss Stark bid farewell to her best friend Helen and returned to New York.

Helen had agreed to move back to New York, but right now, she had more important things to do.

That was to fully implement the Regeneration Cradle project—to ensure that Miss Stark's wallet had an annual income.

During this time, Miss Stark chose to remain in New York, treating it as a small vacation for herself.

After all, the two-month-long Extremis Virus project had concluded, and it had indeed been a tiring two months.

In the evening, Miss Stark was enjoying her dinner in the sky villa atop Stark Tower.

To outsiders, the Stark family, who made their fortune through the arms industry, had already crossed into the ranks of the top elite families.

However, Miss Stark did not develop the habit of wanton spending—mainly because she didn't have the capital to spend recklessly.

The tech industry, especially high-tech military industries, is one of the most costly investments in the world, with no industry higher.

For example, the U.S. aerospace and military industries burn through astronomical sums of money every year, far beyond what an ordinary person can afford to play with.

Since she hadn't officially inherited Stark Industries, it meant that all her expenses were controlled by the board of directors.

On the other hand, she did receive a monthly allowance of one million dollars from the board.

Sure, a million dollars might seem like a lot, but in reality... she didn't dare to make any major investments.

Instead of blowing through that allowance, she preferred to save it for more personal tech research.

For example, the Extremis Virus project she worked on in South Korea with her best friend over the past two months.

In just two months, the Extremis Virus project had burned through the two hundred million dollars she had painstakingly saved.

Two hundred million dollars is no small amount; in 2006, it was a sum not just anyone could come up with.

This was two hundred million dollars that Miss Stark had saved from dividends and returns on other investments.

But because of the Extremis Virus project, her hard-earned two hundred million dollar nest egg was completely depleted.

This just goes to show how costly technological research is—and that it's guaranteed not to pay off.

I've digressed a bit—after all this talk, the main point is that she is not one of those rich people who can spend recklessly.

Although Stark Tower had a professional kitchen and a dedicated chef team, her dinner still consisted of a hamburger and cola that her bodyguard, Happy Hogan, had gone downstairs to buy.

To Miss Stark, junk food like fried chicken, hamburgers, and cola was her favorite daily diet.

As for the professional chef team, they only got to show off their skills when meeting with clients.

The high calories and salt content provided by this junk food were what fueled her brain and body for the day.

It was around seven in the evening. She was lying on the living room sofa, eating her dinner while watching a movie on the home theater system.

But her bodyguard, Happy Hogan, seemed a bit uneasy, which caught her attention.

"Happy, that's the fourth time you've checked your watch. It's not even time for you to clock out yet. What's got you in such a hurry?"

Immediately after, Miss Stark noticed a series of expressions crossing Happy's face.

He seemed to be struggling to speak, engaged in an intense internal battle.

After some hesitation, Happy sighed slowly, as if resigning himself, and finally spoke.

"Actually, Miss, tonight is the New York Fight League's championship match…"

"So, you want to ditch me at home and go have fun by yourself?"

"Uh, no, boss, I just—"

Happy had been prepared to be scolded by his boss, knowing that he was indeed out of line.

As a top-notch professional bodyguard, he understood what his duties were.

The problem was, this was the New York Fight League's season finale, and missing it would be a real shame.

"I'm telling you, don't even think about it. Go get the car; I'll change and be right down."

But when he heard Miss Stark's next words, his face immediately brightened up.

After two months of intense research work, Miss Stark also desperately needed some relaxation.

A few minutes later, the two of them were driving a silver-gray Audi sedan out of Stark Tower's parking garage.

However, they got stuck in traffic on the way to the fight league championship—trapped in the middle of a traffic jam.

As an international metropolis, traffic jams were common in New York, but this time something seemed different.

Through the car window, Miss Stark could clearly see people panicking and fleeing.

Some women even lost their high heels but didn't stop to pick them up.

"Jarvis—what's going on up ahead? Check it out for me."

Sitting in the back seat, Miss Stark frowned slightly, habitually asking her phone.

In the front seat, Happy rolled down the window and craned his neck to look outside, but he couldn't see anything.

"I've hacked into the road management's street surveillance cameras and am retrieving the footage now."

Jarvis's cold electronic voice came through the phone, and a few minutes later, he had an answer.

"There was a robbery, Miss. The NYPD has received the report and is on their way."

It was only then that Miss Stark noticed an elderly man with gray hair standing by a somewhat shabby car in the distance.

She suddenly realized that the scene before her seemed to have appeared in the memory fragments in her mind.

"I think it's our duty to step in and solve this."

Ben Parker—the name suddenly popped into her mind, bringing up more memories.

She felt she had to intervene; otherwise, a future superhero would lose his family forever.

"Miss, you can't leave the car; it's too dangerous!"

Happy Hogan hadn't even had time to lock the doors before Miss Stark had already opened the door and stepped out.

At that moment, Happy Hogan felt as though he had swallowed a cockroach, a sense of utter despair.

As a bodyguard, he couldn't allow his employer to put herself in danger, so he immediately followed her out.

Just a few dozen meters away, at the entrance of a convenience store, an elderly man was facing a black gun barrel.

"Son, I know you need help, but please consider the consequences of your actions—"

"Your family, your children, your wife, your parents, they're all waiting for you to come home."

Facing the gun, the gray-haired man showed no fear, trying to persuade the robber while pulling out his wallet.

As he spoke, the old man took out all the cash from his wallet and handed it to the robber.

But from the mix of bills, it seemed that the old man wasn't doing too well financially either.

The middle-aged man hesitated as he took the money from the old man, his hand holding the gun trembling slightly.

He was still holding the prize money he had stolen from the New York Fight League championship.

But the old man's words made him feel ashamed, struggling internally.

His wife, his daughter…just as the old man said, they were waiting for him to come home.

If it weren't for his daughter lying in a hospital bed, he wouldn't have resorted to robbery.

His daughter's cancer was in its late stages, and every chemotherapy session brought her immense pain.

But he couldn't bear to watch his daughter die, so he prayed for God's help.

However, his family could no longer afford his daughter's chemotherapy; he was out of money.

For his daughter's sake, he had sold the house, the car… He had robbed the New York Fight League and was looking for a way to escape.

If he ended this ridiculous robbery now, maybe he wouldn't have to go to jail for it.

But his daughter… As the middle-aged man struggled with his thoughts, the gun in his hand went off.

His trembling hand had inadvertently pulled the trigger, and the man's face immediately turned to horror.

His robbery was an act of desperation; he had no intention of harming anyone.

Especially not the elderly man in front of him, who, even while facing the gun, was trying to save him.

He didn't want to see a tragedy happen, but how could he possibly be faster than a bullet?

The bullet shot out of the gun, whistling toward the elderly man's chest.

But in the next second, a tall figure suddenly appeared between them, stopping the bullet.

The bullet struck the person's clothes with a crisp sound, then bounced off and fell to the ground.

A flash of blinding white light filled everyone's vision, nearly blinding them.

The middle-aged man with the gun was instantly thrown back, crashing into a flower bed before hitting the ground.

"The material's bulletproof effect is good, but the makeshift flight stabilizer's pulse effect still needs improvement."

"Boss, are you crazy? This is too dangerous; you could've died—"

The middle-aged man on the ground and the elderly man beside him stared in shock at the woman who had suddenly appeared.

And behind her, panting heavily, drenched in cold sweat, was a burly bodyguard in a black suit.

The woman was dressed in a long-sleeved color-block sweatshirt, with her hair tied up in a high ponytail, exuding a sharp and capable aura.

On her hand, she wore a metallic, high-tech-looking, fingerless steel glove.

In the center of the red and silver steel glove, a white hole glowed brightly.

"So, you're William Baker—"

The woman who had suddenly appeared paid no attention to her bodyguard but instead looked at the middle-aged man on the ground and asked.

Hearing his name, the middle-aged man immediately raised his gun and pointed it at the woman.

But the gun was nowhere near him, having flown far away when he was thrown back.

"What are you talking about? I don't know any William Baker!"

Although his name had been called out, William Baker knew he couldn't reveal his identity.

"It doesn't matter; your name isn't important because I've already seen through you—"

"Hello, I'm just a passing billionaire with a strong sense of justice."

Miss Stark smiled, turning to the elderly man beside her and giving him a playful nod.

"I saw everything that happened. I saw your hesitation and your struggle."

"You're not a ruthless criminal; I can see that there's still kindness deep in your heart."

"You shouldn't be on this path of crime, so there's still time to make the right choice."

Thanks to the memory fragments in her mind, she knew exactly who this William Baker was—he was the future Sandman.

Sandman was never a purely evil criminal; his remaining conscience and kindness made him waver between good and evil.

He had taken this desperate step because his daughter was threatened by cancer, and he was powerless to stop it.

In those memory fragments, Miss Stark had seen his various potential futures, including joining S.H.I.E.L.D. or even the Avengers.

She believed that with the right guidance, William Baker could become a kind and just superhero.

Even if he didn't want to join, at least she could add one more good person to the world and take away one more villain.

"But… I really need this money. My daughter…"

Hearing Miss Stark's words, the middle-aged man's resolve began to waver.

"If you need it, just say it out loud. I believe there are still many people in this society willing to help you."

"Like this honorable gentleman here, I think there are still more good people in this world."

Following Miss Stark's gaze, William Baker looked at the elderly man standing beside her.

Just a moment ago, even when faced with a gun, the old man had still tried to persuade him to be kind.

"Of course, I'm willing to help you too. I can offer you a formal, decent job."

"You'll get more than just what you need to live on, and your wife and daughter won't have to worry about your reckless actions."

As a billionaire with a strong sense of justice, she said this with a certain air of confidence.