Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman

Chapter 690: Chapter 690: Relief Supplies Arrive

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At the disaster site of the World Trade Center Twin Towers, the rescue operation continued to expand as time passed.

More and more firefighters and law enforcement personnel poured into the effort. Countless volunteers also arrived, contributing whatever strength they could. Essential supplies gradually converged on the disaster zone as well.

Under the coordination of the temporary forward command center established by the New York City Police Department, these people became part of a tightly meshed organizational machine.

Every person was directed exactly where they were needed.

There was virtually no wasted manpower, nor were there people wandering aimlessly through the disaster area like headless flies.

Using a communications network built from countless radios, the NYPD command center ensured that everyone contributed to the maximum extent possible.

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Then, at 5:20 p.m., World Trade Center Building 7 collapsed beside the North Tower.

It became the third major building to fall that day.

Although rescuers had anticipated the possibility and taken precautions, preventing further casualties, the environmental destruction and contamination caused by the collapse were unavoidable.

By this point, even though wireless communications had not yet been fully restored, the command center had already pieced together information from across the country through wired communications and reports from journalists arriving at the scene.

National-level concerns would be handled by people with far greater authority.

For George Stacy and the New York rescue forces under his command, the only priority was the catastrophe directly in front of them.

At this stage, regardless of whether officials wanted to admit it—and despite media restrictions on reporting it—Henry’s repeated warnings about toxic air had been accepted by everyone present.

People were already becoming sick.

The temporary medical stations had begun filling with patients displaying respiratory symptoms.

Most were fortunate enough to have escaped before the towers collapsed.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t gotten far enough away and had been engulfed by the massive dust clouds generated by the collapsing buildings, inhaling what was practically a solid wall of dust.

Others were simply unlucky.

Some had been struck by falling chunks of concrete.

Others had been cut by flying debris.

As for those hit directly by large concrete slabs, there was no point bringing them to medical stations.

Those who could be recovered had mostly been transported to makeshift morgues.

Others still remained trapped beneath rubble, waiting for heavy equipment to clear the debris before their remains could be retrieved.

Even for people reluctant to acknowledge the dangers of concrete dust, the fires and smoke rising from beneath the ruins were impossible to ignore.

The smell alone was enough to make people nauseous.

Claiming that such smoke was harmless would have been a blatant lie.

Unfortunately, no matter how many firefighters were present, there was little they could do about the fires.

The ignition points were likely buried deep beneath the rubble.

Smoke seeped out through cracks between shattered concrete and steel.

The firefighters wanted to fight the flames, but there was nowhere obvious to direct the water.

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Before nightfall, the first shipment of relief supplies from Stark Industries arrived.

These weren’t experimental gadgets.

They were exactly what everyone needed most:

Food.

Drinking water.

Masks.

Respirators.

At that moment, Henry gained a direct appreciation for the sheer power of an American corporate giant.

The trucks delivering supplies weren’t an assortment of hastily assembled vehicles.

Every single one was a Stark Industries heavy transport truck, emblazoned with enormous STARK logos.

The advertising value was undeniable.

The trucks themselves were packed to capacity.

The most critical items—masks and respirators—were distributed immediately.

In fact, Henry had already instructed the drivers to unload at different locations according to cargo type the moment they passed through the outer checkpoints.

This eliminated the need to centralize supplies before redistributing them, saving both time and manpower.

Many responders had not managed to properly drink water since arriving.

Lunch had been an even more distant dream.

Aside from scattered donations that had trickled in earlier, Stark Industries’ arrival felt like fresh water pouring into a dying river.

And the sight of Stark’s aid seemed to trigger a chain reaction.

Soon, additional donations from corporations and private citizens began flowing into the disaster area.

Under NYPD direction, arriving vehicles were sent directly to designated zones where supplies could be distributed immediately.

Items not urgently needed were stored at collection points for future use.

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By nightfall, police, fire department, and corporate searchlights had been erected throughout the area.

Generators roared from every direction, flooding the disaster zone with artificial daylight.

The rescue operation continued without pause.

The advanced technology Henry had requested had not yet arrived.

As a result, rescue personnel still relied on the oldest and simplest method of locating survivors:

Calling out.

And listening for answers.

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Later that night, a second convoy of Stark Industries trucks arrived.

These vehicles carried something very different.

Not ordinary supplies.

Technology.

Included among the cargo was an advanced operations platform still undergoing field validation.

The arriving personnel wore jackets prominently displaying the STARK company logo.

Beside the police command center, they erected an even larger tent and began assembling equipment inside.

Another group copied the disaster-area maps from police headquarters.

Their task was to determine the optimal locations for sensors and detection equipment before deploying them throughout the site.

Most of these engineers were accustomed to laboratories and factories, not disaster zones.

Working outdoors while wearing respirators made everything awkward and clumsy.

Even so, after laboring through most of the night, they successfully assembled and calibrated the systems.

And on that first night after the disaster, countless people found themselves unable to sleep.

The rescuers in the field generally ate little more than rations and bottled water before returning immediately to work.

Meanwhile, Henry never stopped talking.

Never stopped giving orders.

Never stopped coordinating.

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Morning arrived.

A new day began.

Fresh volunteers and additional police and firefighters from more distant jurisdictions joined the operation.

Among them was a certain wealthy young man.

Dressed in an immaculate custom-tailored suit and arriving in a luxury Bentley, Tony Stark finally appeared at the disaster site.

Both he and his entourage wore respirators tightly strapped to their faces.

Even so, they somehow still radiated wealth from every pore.

Entering the police command tent, Tony immediately spotted Henry.

The Kryptonian stood in the center of the operation like a human control tower.

One hand held a radio.

The other held a hot dog that he was wolfing down between issuing instructions.

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A figure of Tony Stark’s stature—and a face familiar to every entertainment reporter in America—was impossible to ignore.

As the field commander, George Stacy naturally approached at once.

”Mr. Tony Stark, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He extended a hand.

”I’m George Stacy, Commissioner of the New York City Police Department and current commander of the World Trade Center disaster response.”

Then he added, somewhat helplessly:

”I have to say, this is not a place someone like you should be.”

Even as he spoke, George had already noticed nearby reporters reacting to the commotion.

Journalists were converging on the command center.

Camera flashes were multiplying by the second.

His intention to politely send Tony away couldn’t have been more obvious.

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