Tony Stark's patience snapped like a dry twig.
When hot weapons failed to land a single hit, he launched into a direct assault. The thrusters roared beneath his boots as he rocketed down from the air, steel fist swinging in a wide arc straight at Joseph.
But Joseph didn't move. Calm and expressionless, he took a few steps forward, and with a subtle shift of will, he retracted the distortion field, shrinking its radius to protect only himself.
The result was… strange.
From the outside, Shadowcat and Jubilation Lee watched in stunned silence as Iron Man's devastating punch, which had been locked onto Joseph's head, suddenly veered off course—missing by mere inches and slamming into the reinforced concrete beneath their feet.
BOOM!
The impact sent cracks spiderwebbing through the rooftop, chunks of debris scattering.
To any casual observer, it looked like Iron Man had suddenly decided to show mercy and pulled his punch at the last second. But the truth was far more bizarre: he had been deflected—again.
Joseph stood motionless, his cloak rustling gently in the breeze.
Tony wasn't amused.
"Shit!! I can't believe I can't hit you!!"
He snarled in frustration and kicked on his thrusters again, spinning into a midair flip. With the agility of a trained gymnast—and the aid of billions in tech—he whipped his right leg across in a sweeping arc, aiming to catch Joseph off guard.
If the fists don't work, Tony reasoned, then maybe my legs will.
But once again…
That maddening force.
Tony felt it—like an invisible hand redirecting his leg mid-swing. First came a wave of repulsion, then a strange pulling sensation, as if gravity itself betrayed him. His kick, destined for Joseph's chest, instead skimmed harmlessly past his thigh.
Another miss.
And this time, the built-up momentum betrayed him. His armored body spun uncontrollably like a top—ten rotations, maybe more—before he crash-landed on the rooftop with a loud, echoing thud.
"Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke up, "the field around him is dynamic. If you give me a few more seconds, I can calculate the strength and velocity needed to break through its threshold."
Even as a top-tier AI, J.A.R.V.I.S. sounded mildly annoyed—perhaps even humbled.
Tony groaned, still dizzy. He pried open the helmet's faceplate and sucked in a lungful of air.
"Are you sober now, Mr. Stark?"
The voice wasn't loud.
But to Tony, it hit like thunder.
He jolted upright—then immediately regretted it.
The voice had come not through his ears but from within his mind, vibrating through his skull like a psychic hammer.
Four-Ring Magic: Mind Whiplash.
Tony's eyes rolled back. His vision spun wildly, and his stomach clenched.
"Ugh—BLARGH!"
He vomited uncontrollably.
Even J.A.R.V.I.S. fell silent for a moment. Despite being artificial, the AI understood instinctively: Mr. Stark was in no shape to fight—physically or mentally.
The atmosphere turned… awkward.
Joseph remained composed, standing just as calm as he had been at the start. He waited patiently as Iron Man emptied his stomach.
Shadowcat exchanged looks with Jubilation Lee, who suppressed a giggle.
It took several minutes, but finally, Tony recovered enough to lift himself off the ground. Lying flat on the rooftop, he blinked up at the sky, face pale and eyes bleary.
"…What the hell are you?" he croaked.
"Magic," Joseph said simply, walking over and crouching beside him. "I'm a magician, Mr. Stark."
Tony was silent.
Then, voice low and gravelly, he muttered, "I hate magicians."
Shadowcat smirked. Jubilation Lee chuckled audibly.
"Trust me, you won't hate us for long," Joseph said. Then, as if casually mentioning the weather, he added: "For example… I could extract all the palladium in your body right now with a flick of my fingers."
Tony froze.
That sentence hit harder than a repulsor to the chest.
He sat up, slowly, pain flickering across his face.
"...How do you know about the palladium poisoning?"
His first instinct was suspicion, but the weariness in his bones—the burning pain in his veins—overrode his caution.
He stared into Joseph's eyes. "Are you saying your magic can remove it?"
Joseph didn't nod. He didn't need to.
The quiet confidence in his gaze said enough.
Tony's breath caught in his throat.
Over the past few months, the palladium reactor in his chest had kept him alive—and poisoned him at the same time. He had tried every known detoxification method, every medical procedure, every workaround. Nothing worked.
He had designed the arc reactor. He had created the Iron Man suit.
He was a genius, a futurist.
But against this, he was helpless.
It was the reason he had started drinking again.
The reason he'd been ready to hand over Stark Industries to Pepper and let Rhodey steal the Mark III armor.
He hadn't given up on the world.
He had given up on himself.
But now…
Now this stranger, this magician, was offering hope?
Tony's voice cracked. "You're not joking… are you?"
Joseph tilted his head slightly, as if amused.
"Do I look like I came here in the middle of the night to pull a prank?"
Tony swallowed hard.
That quiet confidence again. The terrifying power. The calm restraint.
And that voice—always calm, always collected—never once raised.
"Fine," Tony said, voice hoarse. "You've got my attention. But rooftop hospitality's not what it used to be."
He gestured weakly toward the edge.
"Let's talk somewhere more… civilized."
Ten minutes later.
The three guests of Second World sat comfortably in the executive lounge of the Stark Tower's presidential suite.
Soft jazz filled the room. A bottle of 1978 Macallan, opened and breathing, sat at the center of a glass table.
Tony Stark didn't bother changing out of his scuffed and vomit-stained armor. He paced with purpose, his usual spark returning to his eyes.
The scent of alcohol had been replaced with focus.
He was back.
"Alright," he said, finally stopping to face Joseph. "You help me get rid of the palladium. In exchange, I assume you want something. So… let's talk terms."
There was no more anger in his voice. No sarcasm. Just business.
"You mentioned a collaboration. Spell it out. What do you want?"
Joseph sat back, swirling the deep amber liquid in his glass. He took a sip, savoring it before setting the glass down gently.
"I need Stark Industries' production line."
Tony raised an eyebrow.
"I'm building a massive online system—called Oasis. The hardware required is beyond what we can currently produce. Your global supply chain, manufacturing efficiency, and transport infrastructure will shave years off our timeline."
"You're making a game," Tony said flatly.
"I'm making a world," Joseph corrected. "One that merges virtual reality, artificial intelligence, and arcane systems. A second world, if you will—where people can work, learn, and evolve."
Tony scoffed. "What, like Ready Player One but with wizards?"
Jubilation Lee grinned. "Exactly like that, but cooler."
Joseph added, "And safer. We have our own AI—Alice. You've already met her."
Tony narrowed his eyes, then chuckled.
"Fine. But this isn't charity. You want my help? My factories? My tech? You'd better throw in something solid."
Joseph gave a sly smile.
"You mean like curing you of your fatal poisoning?"
"…Touché."
Tony exhaled and finally poured himself a drink.
"Alright, magician. Let's call it an alliance."
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