Chapter (9) You're Not The Father

8:45 PM

Baxter building,

Manhattan, New York.

____________________

Tony Stark stands atop the grand stage at the entrance of the Baxter Building, surrounded by the glittering lights of New York City.

The whole area under the moon buzzes with excitement as guests mingle, all their eyes on Tony, awaiting the official start of the party as this banquet holds both opportunities and luxury.

This is Stark's moment to unveil his latest venture: the Stark Solution program, a revolutionary initiative aimed at tackling global energy crises.

But that's not all; the main goal of this is far from what one can comprehend, but one thing is sure: after today, he will be donating a lot of money to the poor and those supposed in need, earning him the title of philanthropist.

The media of New York are never too shy. As the media cameras flash here and there, some cameramen even film what is underneath the skirts of... well, they are just capturing every moment of the extravagant affair while Tony Stark greets guests with his trademark charm.

It is to the point where some young maidens are signaling him with inappropriate signs, and those aren't gang signs, of course.

Soon it is time to greet the media and officially start the party.

Therefore, he approaches the podium set nearby, on the grand stage.

"Gentlemen and my sweet ladies," Tony begins, one hand casually resting on the table as he leans back in his chair with a lazy demeanor, "I have to greet my guests, so I've only got 7 minutes for your questions. Now, fire away."

"Sir, I'm from the Daily Buzz," a woman eagerly speaks up, "how do you feel about New York compared to LA?"

Tony's lips curl into a wry smile as he takes a sip from his glass, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Ah, that's quite the question. And, the answer is New York sucks... completey ...no doubt at all. It just doesn't have what I want... or maybe I'm just biased towards LA... Whatever it doesn't matter... next question," he replies, his tone teasing, drinking water that doesn't look like water.

Just like that, one by one, he answered whatever crap that was thrown at him until.

Among the crowd, J. Jonah Jameson, the editor-in-chief of the Daily Bugle, prowled like a wolf in sheep's clothing, and this time, he is barely in his 30s.

"Tony Stark!" Jameson's voice boomed, cutting through the chatter of the usual questions. "Care to comment on the rumors surrounding your relationship with a 16-year-old teenage girl? Rumors say at the party that night you drugged her."

Stark's expression remained unfazed, though a flicker of irritation crossed his features.

"Ah, Mr. ... whatever your name is," he replied smoothly.

"It's a pleasure to see you. As for your question, I assure you, there's no truth to those baseless accusations. Models and actresses of the  industry can testify for me, that I only like ripe fruits, smooth, plump, and juicy... haha."

But Jameson was relentless, his voice rising with each word.

"You expect us to believe that, Stark? Convenient timing, don't you think? Launching this so-called Stark Solution program to distract the public from your sinful affairs?"

"Believe whatever you want, Mr. Nobody," Stark retorted, his tone icy. "But know this: the Stark Solution is about the future, not the past. And nothing will derail my commitment to making a difference in the world."

At the same time, he looked at Pepper Potts beside him as if wanting to know who this man is; if possible, he won't mind buying him for some money.

But at this moment, an unusual car appeared, and Tony's reflection changed.

He muttered, "Bastard..."

"Sir, did you say something?"

Many reporters asked him as they thought this rich man is cursing them, especially J. Jonah Jameson.

But Tony answered,

"Apologize, gentlemen, my good friend is here and I have to go now. Pardon me."

With that, Tony steps down from the podium followed by Pepper. They head towards the car in which Darius has arrived.

"It means you are guilty... you rapist..." J. Jonah Jameson shouted.

And obviously, everyone ignored this reporter because there is no reason to mess with this rich man for such trivial things.

At the same time,

As the unusual car pulls up to the entrance of the Baxter Building, all eyes turn toward it, curious about its occupants.

The doors swing open, and out steps Darius Inferno, a man with dominant green eyes and shining blond hair that seems to catch the moonlight.

Beside him, his wife May emerges, her hazel eyes gleaming with warmth and elegance, although she feels nervous. But she is determined not to lose face here, as her husband is still a big shot in the city.

Tony Stark, until now in dilemma about how to counter the inappropriate questions from reporters, is more than happy to receive this rogue friend of his.

Thus, he makes his way over to greet the couple.

Darius and May are a sight to behold, both dressed in coordinating attire that showcases their undeniable connection and love.

Darius wears a striking white and blue coat that perfectly complements May's floral blue gown of ocean color, the hues intertwining like waves dancing in harmony.

At first, he thought it would be a good idea if May wore a figure-hugging midnight black gown. However, he realizes Darius is a possessive man and can't allow his wife to be stared at by others. So, once again, he tells her to change, of course, all that happens in front of him.

"Welcome, Darius, May," Tony greets them with genuine warmth, extending his hand in welcome.

"I'm glad  that  joined us tonight... you bastard," he says in a low tone, leaning toward Darius. Then, he continues, "You both look absolutely stunning. Especially my sister-in-law... now that I realize, I have to apologize for my absence at the wedding... sister-in-law, you've forgiven me, right?"

Darius flashes a charming smile, his green eyes sparkling with appreciation, but beneath them hides contempt.

"Thank you, Mr. Tony. It's always a pleasure to be here, especially for such a momentous occasion and especially when my dear friend is searching for new adventures, especially with underage figures. By the way, May, you can go with Miss Pepper, Tony, and I have something to handle."

Darius looks at the secretary behind Tony, and of course, she volunteers to drag May with her, while he and Tony also arrive inside the venue. With a serious tone, he asks, "Stark Solution Program, what's this all bullcrap about? Also, did you really violate the underage?"

Darius has watched almost every MCU movie, but he never encountered such programs. Maybe it's because the MCU official phase has yet to start, but it doesn't matter.

"Do you really think I'm like that? Well, I mean, she didn't bleed, though, meaning even if I did, she was already taken by someone else before, so the guilt that I have is not much," Tony replies shamelessly.

"Hahaha... you really are my good brother... to tell you the truth, there was once an ancestor in my family named 'Doflamingo D. Inferno.' His words were pure wisdom. He used to say," Darius preaches with joy.

"If you can eat fresh meat every day, why bother with leftovers?"

But Tony disagrees, "You're a pedo, to be honest. That was really a mistake. I like MILFs more than those skinny shits... well, you enjoy. I'll be back in 8 minutes... gotta make a welcome speech for guests, after all."

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Fisk Tower,

Hells kitchen, New York

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"Ahhaha... I'm sorry, master, I'll try... I'll try harder this time," pleads a woman, her futile efforts to arouse a limp member met with frustration.

Nearby, her Latino sisters lay on the floor, their bodies lifeless and discarded. There are also some women from the Middle East and especially Turkey, all naked and with something hideous resembling a sword implanted in their nether regions.

"You better make it hard or I'll kill you," growls Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin, his voice dripping with menace and contempt. Consumed by suspicion of betrayal from his own wife, Vanessa, thoughts of revenge fill his mind, contemplating the most gruesome of punishments if his suspicions prove true.

"Gulp... gulp... master, it's not working. Master, even a eunuch would have been hard by now... I'm sorry, master, I'm not skilled. Please spare me," the woman's apology is cut short as she dares to protest, her words met with a brutal slap from Kingpin's hand.

*Slap!!!*

Rising from the bed, his gaze falls upon the woman.

She appears mature, with a curvaceous figure adorned with pierced nipples, her blonde hair cascading over her proud chest.

Glistening sweat adorns her tender tan skin.

Anyone would have ravaged her by now, but to Kingpin, there is no allure, no arousal, only frustration and rage.

In a fit of anger, he draws a loaded revolver, the metallic click filling the room with dread as he aims it at the woman.

"Die, you bitch... 6789."

Yes, she is the 6789th woman he has killed because she too, like the others, has failed to complete the task.

At that moment, a voice resounds,

"Master, the doctor from the hospital has come with the DNA report."

This voice belongs to his most loyal associate, James Wesley, the advisor and great bootlicker among the men.

"Bring him," Kingpin commands.

"As you wish," James respectfully bows and leaves.

Inside the room, Kingpin begins to dress, hiding his vulnerability alongside his piggish hairy skin.

"You better not... Vanessa," he speaks.

He wants to kill her that night, but it's always good to confirm before committing something to avoid regret later.

Thus, he waits, only he knows how much pain he feels at this time... Poor guy has to kill two people every hour to ease his broken heart.

To feel better, he even ordered his gangster dogs' to let their wives to have sex with another man.

Of course, these gangsters comply with the boss's orders and sit on the chairs alongside their boss's throne, watching their own wives moaning on the dicks of strangers, and their mighty boss smiles happily at the scene, feeling that he isn't the only one.

At this time, the doctor enters the chamber, visibly scared, knowing he might not leave alive today. He can't lie, fearing torture. With determination, he tries to utter,

"Mr... M... Wilson."

"Speak Loud and Clear," The kingpin's voice is so menacing, it could even spook devils, especially if they're afraid of pigs, 'cause his voice sounds like an angry, ugly pig.

This time, out of fear, the doctor shouts,

"YOU ARE NOT THE FATHER."

And right after that, one more body falls to the ground. It's just that this body is wearing a white coat and holds a report that no one wants to read now.