Awakening Kryptonian Bloodline In Marvel.

"Oh! No, no, no!" Tony leapt to his feet the moment he heard Malrick was preparing to act.

"They're clearly here for me. If they want a fight, they've got one."

He waved his hand. "Jarvis, armor!"

The flight pod resting quietly in the lab disassembled instantly and began attaching piece by piece.

Malrick didn't stop him.

The attackers' muscle mass was average—clearly regular humans. Even if they possessed some mysterious powers, they were no match for Tony in full gear.

Once armored, Tony blasted through the glass door and rocketed upstairs.

"Wait here for my update!" he called back as his voice echoed down the hall.

"Alright, diaper-heads, here comes your worst nightmare!"

It was clear Tony had been stressed lately—he let loose the moment the suit was on.

Malrick shook his head and stepped over the shattered glass to follow.

The uninvited guests hadn't expected their target to charge them from below. Tony opened fire the second he arrived—cluster blasts rotating and tearing through the room.

The assassins never stood a chance.

Even those who managed to react were taken down the moment they tried to resist.

Tony went all in, his blasts shaking the villa's structure.

By the time Malrick entered the living room, bodies lay scattered, and a massive crack split the wall.

Great. Another call to the contractors tomorrow.

At that moment, Tony had one last assassin cornered.

These weren't amateurs—they were trained killers.

Not one of them had screamed, not even as they died.

Malrick expected the final attacker to fight to the end.

Instead, the man backed away, pulling a plain envelope from his jacket. He handed it forward—then swiftly drew a blade and slashed his own throat.

He collapsed silently, still holding out the envelope as he hit the ground.

"Uh… guess he wasn't planning on going out fighting. More like dying to prove loyalty?" Malrick muttered, stepping beside Tony.

"No. He wanted me to read the letter."

Click.

Tony's visor lifted and the suit disengaged with a smooth hiss.

He stepped forward, but Malrick beat him to it.

"Careful. It could be laced with poison. Next time you should stay suited up when handling enemy gifts."

Tony paused, startled. "Poison? On a letter? Who even does that?"

"Some eastern martial arts novels like to romanticize that sort of thing. And this crew? They look like the type."

Malrick sniffed the envelope.

"...Nah. No poison. False alarm."

"Then why deliver it right before offing himself?" Tony asked as Malrick tore it open.

"What is this, a recruitment pitch? Was that whole thing just a job interview?" Tony leaned in.

Malrick looked unimpressed. "Seriously? What are you, the Chosen One now?"

He unfolded the letter.

The paper was cheap and looked handmade—probably something from Southeast Asia.

Malrick narrowed his eyes. Could this be the Hand?

They read the letter together:

---

To Mr. Tony Stark:

Congratulations on passing my test.

You eliminated a group of Ten Rings imposters sent on an assassination mission. You've proven yourself worthy of being executed by me personally.

Let me introduce myself.

I am Wenwu, leader of the Ten Rings.

The group you destroyed last month were mere imitators—cheap copies. I should thank you for wiping out those fakes.

However, they still bore the name of the Ten Rings, and by killing them, you've tarnished that name.

You've made the world believe the Ten Rings are no more.

So now, to preserve our reputation, I must kill you.

In one month, I'll come to collect your head myself.

—Wenwu

---

They both stared at the page in silence.

Tony furrowed his brow. "So… the Ten Rings were just the surface layer. The real Ten Rings are still out there?"

His thoughts drifted to Hydra… and the Red Room.

Secret organizations—none of them ever meant anything good.

As Tony processed the implications, Malrick suddenly erupted.

"What a guy!"

His eyes gleamed red, and the letter disintegrated in his hand.

He began to rise, clothes billowing despite the still air.

The red glow in his eyes deepened—like a demon peering from the edge of hell.

He wasn't in a cape, but you could almost imagine a blood-soaked one flapping behind him.

"Tony, take a breather. I'll be back after I kill a few people."

His voice was calm, almost casual—like he was grabbing coffee.

But the chill behind it made Tony shiver.

He looked up, stunned, as Malrick floated, radiating pressure like a mountain overhead.

"You—you mean now?" Tony stammered.

"If they had the nerve to give a one-month warning, then I'll make sure they don't see tomorrow."

Just floating there, Malrick seemed to defy gravity and reason—like reality bent around him.

Tony had never seen him this angry before.

It made his heart race.

"Malrick! Calm down!" Tony yelled.

"He came after me. Let me handle it!"

"Come down. Don't do anything reckless!"

Tony leapt up and tried to pull Malrick down. He didn't budge, and Tony ended up clinging awkwardly to his leg.

"Uhh…" He forced a smile. "Listen. Let's not rush things, okay?"

"This challenge was thrown at Iron Man—me—and I have to answer it."

"Otherwise, what was the point of that press conference? Just for show?"

Malrick stared down at him, silent.

The fury in his eyes dimmed, and he slowly lowered to the floor.

Tony got his footing again.

"See? You always misunderstand me." Tony patted his shoulder.

"I'm Iron Man. This is on me. You know what I've been trying to do all along."

"This is an opportunity."

He continued, more serious now. "The Ten Rings aren't just some gang. They're a threat. A real one."

"They came at me. I want to hit back."

"People like them… like Hydra, like the Red Room… they don't belong in the shadows anymore."

Malrick tilted his head. The red light in his eyes faded, replaced by calm black.

"You seriously want to face Wenwu?"

"Don't look at me like that. You took down the Red Room. Why can't I handle the Ten Rings?"

"You think I'm joking?"

Tony smiled—but inside, he felt the pressure lift.

There was something about Malrick's fury that made him uneasy.

It reminded him of seventeen years ago—kneeling before their parents' graves, holding a baby Malrick in his arms, sobbing in the rain.

He couldn't tell if it was water or tears on his face back then.

Grief. Rage. Confusion.

He'd cried until his vision blurred.

And then little Malrick had reached out, his tiny hand wiping Tony's face like he understood.

Back then, Tony had sworn: no matter what, this kid would be happy, safe, and full of life.

For seventeen years, he'd kept that promise.

But now Malrick was grown… powerful… and starting to protect him.

That stung.

Because deep down, Tony knew—he couldn't protect Malrick anymore.

And when Malrick raged, it wasn't just about strength—it was guilt.

Because Tony still wanted to be the big brother who could keep him safe.

---

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