Chapter 119: Roddy, Come and Meet Someone

Tony did not yet know that his parents had been murdered by the Winter Soldier, but he was aware that their deaths were linked to Hydra.

The room fell silent for a moment.

Luke spoke in a measured tone, "Since you know about Hydra, I won't waste time with pleasantries. As far as I know, Hydra did not perish after the Second World War. Many of them went into hiding, assumed new identities, and lay low. Now, they are gradually growing strong again. Their target this time was to capture me—I think you understand why without me spelling it out. It seems they want to kill you, too. Though, of course, that's just a secondary objective."

Luke emphasized the word "secondary."

"How much more do you know about Hydra? I want all the intelligence you have," Tony said, his expression unusually grave.

Not long ago, he had received the belongings of his late father, Howard Stark, sent by Fury. Those items had given him a true understanding of the man Howard was. Most importantly, that videotape had made Tony realize that he had always held the most important place in his father’s heart. The revelation had stirred something deep within him.

"No problem, but you have to return my materials," Luke countered.

Tony agreed immediately, without a second thought.

The two reached an accord, yet neither uttered a word about reconciliation. Both knew that their personalities were fundamentally incompatible, and there was no need to put on a hypocritical show. Since they were currently on the same side, they would treat this strictly as a transaction. Tony was a businessman and preferred this straightforward approach. Luke, who disliked dragging things out, found this arrangement perfectly to his liking.

They struck a deal: intelligence for materials, with S.H.I.E.L.D. footing the bill.

"Rest assured, I will organize the Hydra intelligence and send it to you as soon as possible." Luke had already mapped out how to sabotage them; it was a stroke of genius to settle a score while doing someone a favor.

After the agreement was settled, Luke stayed a while longer to chat with Tony.

It quickly became apparent that their personalities were like oil and water—completely incapable of coexistence. Both were proud, arrogant, and unwilling to concede defeat. Any topic they touched upon inevitably devolved into an argument over differing viewpoints, with neither side willing to yield an inch.

Tony, showing zero respect for his youth, picked Luke’s arguments apart mercilessly. Luke, having long grown tired of Tony’s nouveau-riche attitude, retorted with the uninhibited, biting honesty of a child who knows no bounds. They were nearly at each other’s throats within minutes.

Fortunately, Tony remembered that this was his own home and dared not push too far, lest the "brat" lose his temper. Tony had no doubt that if the child went berserk, he would truly tear the place apart.

"I won't lower myself to the level of a child," Tony said, waving his hand in annoyance.

"I won't lower myself to the level of someone with no taste!" Luke retorted, hands on his hips, radiating defiance.

"I have no taste? I think I just heard the funniest joke of the year," Tony sneered.

They engaged in a profound debate over the aesthetics of mecha design, revealing a gap in their philosophies as wide as a galaxy. Luke argued that the most important aspect of a mecha was the inverted triangle composition, which he believed best conveyed a sense of advanced technology—the head, shoulders, and torso must all form inverted triangles, and if there were wings on the back, they should follow the same multi-layered triangular motif. His ideology was rooted in *Gundam* and *Evangelion*.

Tony shut him down with a single sentence: "Then why are both of your mecha designs shaped like blocks?"

Tony’s own aesthetic was fully realized in his Iron Man armor. He prioritized streamlined exteriors, seamless joint structures, and a sense of fluid motion, all while embodying raw power and masculine charisma. He scoffed at Luke’s description of "flashy" triangular designs, dismissing them as nothing more than a child’s doodles.

Just as the argument reached its peak, Jarvis’s voice cut through the room.

"Sir, James Rhodes has arrived," Jarvis announced.

No sooner had he spoken than the elevator doors opened, and Rhodes stepped out, dressed in his crisp Air Force uniform. Tony hadn't recalled Rhodes saying he would visit, but it seemed like a casual drop-in—or perhaps related to the incident from the night before. One look at Rhodes’s face confirmed there was nothing urgent.

The Black officer wore a relaxed smile, but as he walked in, his eyes immediately locked onto Luke, who was sitting across from Tony.

"Tony," Rhodes joked, "since when did you have a son this old?"

Everyone knew he was kidding. Rhodes was genuinely surprised; he remembered that Tony was the last person to tolerate children. Seeing a kid in Tony’s room was enough to make one believe that pigs could fly.

"Hi, Rhodey. What are you here for?" Tony was always blunt.

"Just seeing if you're still alive. Heard you were attacked last night and took two shots?" Rhodes looked Tony up and down, smiling.

"One shot," Tony corrected dismissively.

He was wearing a simple T-shirt and casual trousers, showing no signs of being a wounded man. He had been hit in the waist the previous night, but the Mark VI had stanched the bleeding. After checking later, he found the bullet had missed his kidney by a mere six millimeters. The bullet had been extracted that same night, and he had already forgotten the pain.

Rhodes had come to check on an old friend, and hearing that Tony was fine put him at ease. His curiosity shifted back to Luke.

"Hey! Kid, ever thought about joining the military? Do you know what this is?"

Rhodes sat down in front of Luke, leaning forward with a smile. He clearly viewed Luke as an ordinary child. He pointed to the Air Force insignia on his chest. "This is the Air Force. How about it? Interested in taking to the skies? I could introduce you to some pilots. I know some of the best aces..."

Luke said nothing, casting a bizarre look at Tony. Tony purposefully turned his head away, feigning ignorance. Rhodes continued to ramble on.

Luke realized he was witnessing the bragging skills he had seen in the films firsthand. Within minutes, Luke was certain: this guy was an absolute chatterbox.

Rhodes, ignoring whether Luke was listening or not, began recounting his heroic exploits against terrorists in the Middle East, spinning a tale of his own greatness. He even threw in a few painfully cold jokes, laughing heartily at his own humor while the rest of the room sat in silence.

"Hey, you know about War Machine? I'm the pilot. Strictly speaking, the title 'War Machine' was really meant for me..."

Luke could take no more. He stood up and sighed helplessly.

"Why are you both looking at me like that? Is something wrong?" Rhodes finally sensed the oddity and looked up at Tony in confusion.

Tony was about to explain, but Luke held up a hand to stop him.

Luke looked at Rhodes and said calmly, "Colonel Rhodes, we have met before."

"We've met?" Rhodes paused, stunned. "When? Where? I don't recall."

"A while back, the night of the Hammer Expo."

"The Hammer Expo?" Rhodes frowned, thinking hard for a long time. In his memory, he had been fighting all night; the War Machine armor had been hacked, flying him erratically all over New York. He didn't remember seeing this kid anywhere.

Luke sighed again and said seriously, "Colonel Rhodes, let's reintroduce ourselves. My name is Luke. You can also call me the Apostle."

"Apos—"

Rhodes’s mouth slowly fell open. His tonsils appeared slightly inflamed. He looked at Luke, then at Tony, before suddenly rising from the sofa.

"You're joking, right, Tony? How could he be the Apostle..." Rhodes asked with a nervous laugh, then suddenly grabbed Tony, his expression turning deadly serious. He whispered, "Is he really the Apostle?"