Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman

Chapter 512: Chapter 512: The Truth Revealed

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When secretary Yulian Williams brought the coffee into the office, Henry and Tony Stark were in the middle of debating the moral implications of artificial intelligence—where ethical red lines should be drawn, whether they should exist at all, and who had the right to draw them.

It had become their most common topic lately.

To the point that they practically argued about it every time they met.

The reason was simple.

It wasn’t that Henry was paranoid.

It was that Tony Stark had recently earned a doctorate in artificial intelligence from MIT, and every time they met, he simply had to show off to the man who technically didn’t even have an elementary school diploma.

So Henry naturally made it his mission to undermine him.

Whenever Tony started, Henry would casually pull out The Terminator or the 1982 film Blade Runner as counterarguments.

That cult sci-fi film had, after sixteen years, finally begun to mature in influence.

And if anyone wondered why Tony Stark couldn’t simply out-debate Henry—

The answer was obvious.

Henry had fully awakened into a contrarian keyboard warrior.

With the intelligence of both men, it was far too easy for them to quote papers, philosophy, and logical loopholes while mercilessly attacking each other’s weak points.

The result:

Neither could win.

Only after the office door closed behind Yulian did Henry loudly declare:

”I’m done listening to you.”

Then he switched on the large office television, changed it to CNN, and turned the volume up high.

Tony Stark wordlessly placed a signal jammer onto the desk.

The device was even larger than earlier models.

That wasn’t because Tony’s miniaturization skills had declined.

It was because it now integrated more sophisticated anti-surveillance and anti-eavesdropping systems to counter newer spying methods.

Hence the increased size.

Meanwhile, Henry prepared a VCR and a smaller television.

He was about to play the videotape Jack Reacher had brought.

Tony said nothing.

He simply watched Henry work.

When the grainy black-and-white surveillance footage appeared on screen, Tony instinctively turned his face away.

Then he forced himself to look back.

And watched seriously.

The footage showed a quiet road with little traffic.

Suddenly, a familiar Chrysler sedan smashed at high speed into a roadside utility pole.

At the top of the frame, something flashed past.

Moments later, that object returned.

It was a rider on a heavy motorcycle, stopping behind the wrecked Chrysler.

It looked less like rescue—

And more like blocking escape.

At that moment, the driver had already crawled out of the vehicle and was dragging himself across the ground.

That white hair.

That suit.

So familiar.

So painful.

The motorcyclist did not rush to help.

Instead, he first opened the trunk of the Chrysler, checked something inside, and only then walked over to the injured driver.

But he did not help him.

He punched that face—the same face Tony probably imagined every time he looked in the mirror—several times with brutal force.

Then he dragged the man, unconscious or dead, back into the driver’s seat.

The rider paid no attention to the engine already catching fire.

Instead, he moved to the passenger side and remained there for several moments.

Though the camera angle couldn’t show what happened, judging from the driver’s fate, the passenger likely met no kinder end.

And though Tony could not see the face clearly—

He knew exactly who had been in that seat.

After finishing everything, the motorcyclist walked directly toward the surveillance camera and raised a gun to destroy it.

No one knew why he hadn’t done that immediately after turning back, but only waited until the deed was done.

Yet that very decision allowed the camera to capture his face clearly.

Especially the unmistakable metallic sheen of his left arm.

Not something an ordinary man wore.

Henry had intended to pause the footage the instant the killer aimed at the camera.

Instead, he said nothing.

He let the image dissolve into static.

Silence filled the room for a long time.

Reacher, who had already seen the footage, spent the entire time watching Tony Stark.

A man he normally would never have the chance to approach.

Tony’s microexpressions and involuntary gestures never stopped.

His internal turmoil was obvious.

In fact, even through the external noise, Reacher felt as though he could hear Tony’s furious heartbeat.

Thump.

Thump.

Unlike their earlier AI argument, Henry said nothing sharp this time.

He kept his eyes on the little television and never looked at Tony’s face.

Only when Tony finally spoke in a dry, strained voice did Henry move.

”Who is the killer?”

Henry rewound the tape to the frame where the gunman’s face was clearest as he aimed at the camera.

Then paused it.

Reacher opened his backpack and spread the collected files across the desk.

He selected one and placed it in front of Tony.

”Based on facial analysis, the killer is highly likely to be this man.

”U.S. Army Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

”Nickname: Bucky Barnes.

”Original member of Captain America’s Howling Commandos.

”And Steve Rogers’ closest friend before enlistment.”

Tony’s first reaction was not anger.

It was confusion.

”Wait.

”If that’s true, then he and the old man should have been friends.

”And World War Two?

”How old is he now?”

”Born in 1917,” Reacher answered calmly.

”He should now be eighty-one years old.

”But officially, in 1945—days before Nazi Germany surrendered—he was listed as MIA during an operation.

”Later declared dead.”

Tony stared at him.

”What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Reacher pulled out another file and placed it down.

”Based on my investigation, the most plausible explanation is as follows:

”From World War Two onward, nations invested heavily in super-soldier research.

”The only publicly known wartime successes were Nazi Germany’s Red Skull—

”And Captain America.”

He continued:

”After the war, such research never stopped.

”Every nation sought ways to mass-produce super soldiers, not merely create one or two symbolic heroes.”

”The Red Empire proposed a concept:

”Use mechanical prosthetics to restore crippled veteran soldiers to combat readiness.

”Then apply mental conditioning to strip away their humanity and create perfect soldiers.”

He turned another page.

”To extend operational lifespan, these soldiers would be cryogenically stored when not in use, then thawed only for missions.

”That program was called—

’The Winter Soldier Program.’”

Tony narrowed his eyes.

”How do you know any of this?”

Reacher produced more papers.

”During the Cold War, both the United States and the Soviet Union constantly floated bizarre military concepts and fake programs to make the other side waste resources chasing shadows.

”Strategic deception.

”Bluffing.

”Psychological warfare.

”There were endless files like that.

”Because many were only concepts, their classification levels were low.”

”But once a project was proven real—or actual progress began—its security level would be raised.”

He tapped the documents.

”Back then, records were still mostly paper.

”Things slipped through.”

”I found only one surviving sheet referring to the Winter Soldier Program.

”It merely described the concept.

”That is highly unusual.

”Most fake programs leave larger paper trails.”

He looked directly at Tony Stark.

”So I reasonably suspect the program was real.

”It advanced to active execution.

”And that single surviving page was simply overlooked during reclassification.”

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