The Bonus Chapter from the previous week.
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Hearing Daredevil's question only made Lance angrier.
He let out a cold laugh and threw his phone at him.
"How could I not be?" he said through clenched teeth. "I've never been happier."
Daredevil frowned, picked up the phone, and glanced at the screen. It was showing a news report.
The New York Times: Stark Admits Personally: I Am Iron Man!
The Wall Street Journal: Billionaire CEO Outs Himself as Superhero, Stark Industries Stock Prices Fluctuate
Global News Agency: Iron Man's True Identity Revealed, Tony Stark
Peter leaned closer, quietly peeking at the screen.
Of course he knew who Tony Stark was. To him, Stark was an untouchable figure. He never expected that someone in Hell's Kitchen would actually be connected to someone like that.
Matt also knew who Tony Stark was. Ever since their first encounter, when Lance had mocked him, Matt had gone out of his way to learn more about Lance.
So he knew Stark was Lance Prescott's former employer, and that the two had a good relationship.
But he still could not understand why Lance was so angry.
Tony Stark publicly admitting he was Iron Man was certainly shocking, but what did that have to do with them?
"I…" Lance opened his mouth, then shook his head. "Forget it…"
He dropped onto the sofa and repeated weakly, "Forget it…"
Matt had to admit, with some surprise, that Lance looked genuinely dispirited. Almost pitiful.
Not just him. Even Peter, still wincing from his injuries, noticed it.
This kid, completely oblivious to the atmosphere, asked cautiously, "Are you okay?"
"Okay?" Lance let out a strange laugh. "Of course I'm okay. Never better."
He stood up and began pacing, gesturing wildly as he spoke.
"Of course I'm fine. Better than ever," Lance said loudly.
"You see, I wore myself out helping Stark win that lawsuit so he could be himself. And now look at him. He's being himself completely. He ignored every path I laid out for him and went straight down the road that guarantees he'll be misunderstood. I really don't get it. There are so many arrogant geniuses in this world. Why do I have to deal with all of them?"
"Does a lawyer's life not matter? I should never have believed Tony Stark's nonsense. He said he would consider it, think it through, act maturely. And this is the result of his mature thinking?"
"I am Iron Man… Ha." Lance sneered. "How very responsible."
At that moment, his phone rang.
Matt glanced at the caller ID. "New York's No. 1 ATM." He hesitated. "Uh… someone's calling."
"Hang up!" Lance snapped.
Matt did as he was told, but the phone started vibrating again almost immediately.
Lance snatched it, glanced at the caller ID, and let out a cold laugh. He raised the phone, ready to smash it against the floor.
Then he stopped.
Instead, he powered it off completely and slipped it back into his pocket.
Why should he damage his own property for Iron Man?
The atmosphere turned awkward.
Peter scrambled up from the other end of the sofa, gathered his things, scratched his head, and spoke hesitantly.
"Uh… sorry, and thank you for helping me. But I don't think this is a good time. I'll come back in a few days to thank you properly. Right now I… I should probably… uh…"
Daredevil also stood. "It looks like tonight isn't the right time to talk. We can continue this after you've calmed down."
"Go. Just go."
Lance suddenly seemed drained. He slumped back onto the sofa, covered his face, and waved them away weakly.
"Go," he said. "But don't forget. Each of you owes me ten thousand dollars."
"..." Peter froze.
Matt said nothing.
The two of them left.
Lance remained where he was, his face still covered.
After a long silence, Number 1 spoke.
"Sir, are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Lance replied. "Never better."
No. 1 fell silent.
The longer it stayed with Lance, the more it felt that humans were incomprehensible.
Right now, all of Lance's physiological indicators pointed to extreme anger and confusion. Yet when asked, he insisted nothing was wrong. This contradicted everything in No. 1's logic.
Tony Stark understood Lance no better.
Because in the next moment, a loud knocking echoed against the window.
"Hey! Prescott! Open up! Didn't you see my messages? Lance? You okay? Open the door!"
Stark sounded like a beagle that had no sense of boundaries, barking endlessly.
Lance ignored him.
A second later, Stark somehow made his way in through the front door.
This time he was even more ostentatious than before. He was still wearing his armor, now coated in a bright, fiery red, dazzling to the eye.
The moment he stepped inside, Stark started complaining loudly.
"Hey, Lance!" Stark shouted. "Didn't you see the messages I sent? That bastard Nick Fury wanted me to say Iron Man was my bodyguard, but I didn't go through with it."
"I am Iron Man. How about that? Cool, right? Other than Pepper, you're the first person I came to tell. Why aren't you reacting?"
"…Are you okay?"
Stark finally noticed something was off. His nonstop chatter came to an abrupt halt as he asked cautiously.
Lance did not understand what was wrong with this night.
Three superheroes had come and gone through his private law firm, and every single one of them had asked him the same question.
What's wrong? Are you okay? Are you alright?
How exactly was he supposed to answer?
"Thanks. I'm fucking fine."
That was what he thought.
So that was what he said.
"Whoa," Stark said. "That's a lot of resentment. Is this because I didn't bring you to the press conference? Relax. We'll all get our moment in the spotlight eventually."
Stark's casual tone only made the anger in Lance's chest burn hotter.
Clang.
In the next instant, Lance grabbed an expensive bottle of whiskey and hurled it at Iron Man.
It flew straight toward Stark's exposed head. If Stark had not reacted in time and closed the faceplate, the impact might have split his skull.
"Prescott, are you insane?" Stark demanded in disbelief.
"What kind of nerve do you have?"
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