Superior Reed Richards

After Chronos's words, I immediately began analyzing the data collected by my backdoors in the Oscorp system, and what I saw took even me by surprise.

"Of course, it had to be this version of Norman..." I muttered under my breath, watching the horrifying footage where the Green Goblin, like an envoy from hell, slaughtered the entire staff without a trace of remorse or compassion.

His claws, like curved blades thirsting for blood, teeth resembling spears designed to tear flesh, and eyes burning with madness, filled the soul with chilling terror. The scene indeed painted a grim and terrifying picture, as if it had emerged from the darkest corners of human nightmares.

The Green Goblin in this universe resembled his counterpart from the well-known Earth-1610, where every action was shrouded in terrifying power and madness. Using fire as his weapon, he announced another, even more frightening ability — incredible regeneration, close to immortality, making him not only terrifying but also nearly invincible.

Without a shadow of doubt and with ease, as if strolling through a familiar park, I reached the OZ serum, the very key to unraveling this web of mysteries and horrors. My mind already began working on solving the problem, like an ancient mechanism awakened from slumber.

"Chronos, show me the DNA sample of Norman Osborn exposed to the OZ serum," I commanded, full of determination and persistence.

"Executing, Dr. Richards," responded my AI, its voice filled with loyalty and artificial calm that instilled confidence in me.

And there before my eyes, like on a magical screen, information about Norman Osborn flashed, revealing his essence in minute detail.

"Hmm..." Despite all my preparation and experience, I couldn't hide my inner turmoil at the realization of the colossal task ahead.

This was a sign for me to stop watching the news and dive into the heart of the events.

"What else has happened here?" My question to Chronos was filled with anticipation of new discoveries.

My intuition suggested that the appearance of the Green Goblin inevitably heralded the arrival of his eternal adversary — Spider-Man.

"A hero named Spider-Man has appeared in the city, and thanks to the cameras, I discovered that under the mask is a schoolboy named Peter Parker," reported Chronos, fueling my curiosity.

"Is that all?" My question sounded more like a plea for a break in this marathon of revelations.

"Hell's Kitchen remains stable," Chronos's response was a balm for the soul, indicating that Daredevil, also known as Matt Murdock, continued his work as usual, protecting the city from the shadows of the night.

"I also detected suspicious financial movements by Victor von Doom," added Chronos, reminding me that the peace was only fleeting.

"Let's take a look at that..." I sighed heavily, already feeling the weight of upcoming challenges.

And so, a new chapter of this epic unfolded before me:

—= Peter Parker =—

"Damn it!" The sudden cry shattered the silence, coming from a man in military attire with the ability to generate electrical blasts. His eyes were full of despair and rage as he met the gaze of Peter Benjamin Parker, also known as Spider-Man, who at that moment was like the embodiment of a relentless, powerful force.

After Uncle Ben's death, Peter devoted more and more of himself to being Spider-Man, finding his purpose and salvation in it.

"Hey, Shocker! Have you ever tried charging your gloves with USB? Maybe then your punches would be faster because I have enough time to order pizza for next week while you're aiming!"

"DAMN BUG!" The man's furious roar echoed as he brandished his electrified gloves. In that instant, as sparks fell to the ground like a meteor shower, Spider-Man sprang into action.

BAM

The force of the punch, filled with justice, lifted Shocker's body a few meters into the air like a leaf caught in an autumn wind before it fell unconscious. For Peter, this moment was a reflection of his inner struggle as he was just beginning to master his newfound abilities. Control over his power didn't come immediately; every punch was a test of self-discipline, every fight a lesson in responsibility. Over time, he realized that his gift could be both a blessing and a curse, and that his full strength could lead to irreparable consequences.

"By the way, spiders aren't insects," Peter quipped, dispelling the tension of the moment with a playful tone. His voice carried irony, underscored by the ease of being Spider-Man, even in the face of danger.

Without wasting time, Parker felt the need to retreat immediately. The sound of approaching police sirens was as unyielding as their intent. The relationship between Spider-Man and the police always remained tenuous, balancing on the edge of mutual respect and suspicion.

Seeking solitude, Peter found refuge atop a gargoyle on one of the buildings, high above the city's hustle. From this height, New York spread out before him like an endless ocean of lights and life. The air seemed purer up here, and the world's problems less significant.

"Hmm, I should've gotten a milder taco..." Peter mumbled, chewing the last bits of his lunch. The casual mention of tacos added a light touch to the moment, reminding that even superheroes experience everyday inconveniences like everyone else.

—= Tony Stark =—

The hammer in Tony's hands felt like an extension of himself. The billionaire struck with enthusiasm, each blow filled with determination and hope, for this work was crucial not just for his fate but for that of his friend. Sparks flew in all directions, illuminating the dim space of the cave where Tony was forced to work.

Tony's gaze fell on the reactor in his chest. This marvel of technology not only kept him alive, preventing shrapnel from reaching his heart, but also symbolized his unyielding spirit and engineering genius. Its soft pulsing light was a constant reminder of the fragile boundary between life and death.

BAM

The hammer struck the sheet of metal again. Each blow brought Tony closer to his goal — creating something that would change everything. It needed to take the right shape, requiring not just physical strength but the intellectual finesse Tony Stark was known for worldwide.

"Ready..." Tony whispered as the metal piece finally took the desired shape. It was not just an engineering feat; it was the embodiment of his will to live, an iron will encased in steel.

At that moment, Tony began hearing approaching footsteps. He froze, setting the hammer aside. Time seemed to slow, waiting to see what would happen next.

"No time for tests," Tony said, looking at the person who had saved his life and become not just a comrade but a close friend whose trust and support were invaluable in these tough times.

Yinsen nodded, his gaze filled with determination. He started helping Tony don the armor, each piece not just a protection but a symbol of a new beginning for Stark. This process was filled with anticipation and tension, for it wasn't just a test of new technology but a step into the unknown that could change everything.

"TONY STARK!" the terrorist shouted, kicking the door open.

By that time, Tony was fully armored and ready to face his adversaries.

—\\—

"Thank you," Tony Stark nodded, gripping the juicy burger as if it were the most valuable trophy after weeks of deprivation.

The billionaire had recently made a daring escape from the clutches of terrorists who had captured him during a demonstration of his latest weapon. This shocking turn of events had dominated the news headlines, and reporters gathered eagerly at the airport, waiting to be the first to share his story with the world.

As Tony Stark stepped through the airport doors, it was immediately apparent that the ordeal had left its mark on him. His usually impeccable appearance was disheveled: his hair was a wild mess, his face was unshaven, adding to his look of exhaustion and weariness. His typically radiant skin was now dry and weathered, with dark circles under his eyes indicating sleepless nights and stress. His clothes were torn and dusty, as if he had spent the last days on the run rather than in the luxurious halls of his mansion.

He moved forward slowly, each step seeming like an effort, but in his eyes burned an unwavering determination. Stark didn't try to hide the signs of his captivity; instead, he wore them as medals of his resilience and strength of spirit. His gaze, though tired, still sparkled with the wit and intelligence that had made him a legend.

"I assume you're all aware of why I look so... less than my best?" Tony asked, tossing the last bite of his burger into his mouth. The question was rhetorical, given the extensive media coverage of his ordeal.

The reporters surrounding him nodded uncertainly, the atmosphere thick with tension and anticipation. Tony, noticing their reaction, smirked, his smile full of irony and meaning that only he fully understood.

"In that case, there's no point in dragging this out," he continued, his voice firm and resolute, as if he had made a decision that was not open for discussion.

"Stark Industries will no longer manufacture weapons."

Tony Stark's words struck like lightning. The room, filled with tense silence just a second before, erupted in questions and exclamations. Reporters, barely recovering from the shock, scrambled over each other to get a comment, to understand the reasons behind such a dramatic shift in policy from one of the largest players in the arms market.

"That's all," Tony Stark declared, stepping away from the microphones. His face showed determination and confidence in his decision. He paid no mind to the reporters' outcries, his steps directed towards a future where he envisioned himself and his company not as creators of weapons, but as pioneers of a new direction aimed at preserving and protecting life rather than destroying it.

—= Some Time Later =—

Sometime after Tony Stark, the billionaire genius inventor, announced his company's decision to cease weapons production, he found that the world continued to whirl in a vortex of events, giving him no chance to pause and catch his breath. Within his tower, which served as his home, workshop, testing ground, and incubator for innovations, Tony embarked on the next phase of his journey.

"Jarvis, show me information on superheroes," he said, deep in thought. Everything he had learned during his enforced absence pointed to the idea that the world needed not just new technologies but new heroes.

The AI, created by Tony, responded instantly, filling the screens in his lab with information about superheroes who had become symbols of hope and justice. Articles, battle footage, interviews, and analytical reports on the activities of these extraordinary individuals flashed before Tony's eyes, igniting his imagination and passion for innovation.

"The Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, Daredevil, the X-Men..."

Tony sifted through the names, each associated with stories of courage, sacrifice, and the fight for higher ideals. These individuals, so different yet united by a common goal — the protection of the innocent and the fight against evil...

His gaze lingered on the screen, where scenes of epic battles and heroic deeds played out. Tony pondered, imagining himself as someone who could contribute to this fight. He was a genius, a billionaire, a playboy, a philanthropist... but could he be a hero? Not one who created weapons, but one who used them for good.

"Jarvis, initiate Project 'Iron Man'," Tony declared decisively.

—= Reed Richards =—

"And what did I expect?" the thought flashed through my mind as I finally unraveled the scale and direction of Victor von Doom's financial flows. By tracing each of these channels, I was able to construct a complete picture of his operations, which unfolded before me, leaving little doubt about his intentions.

On my screens, schematics, blueprints, and financial reports flashed, coming together to reveal Victor's ambitions. Before me was the blueprint of a Doombot...

Doombots, despite their complexity and autonomy, were not the main threat. They could spy, fight, and even make decisions based on artificial intelligence, but they were merely extensions of the will and mind of their creator. The problem was Victor von Doom himself — a man who embodied not only a brilliant intellect but also unrelenting persistence and a desire for power. He was the epitome of that unyielding will to victory that could overcome any obstacle in pursuit of his ambitions.

When I say any obstacle, it's no exaggeration, as this man was one of the few who managed to escape from Hell, attain the power of a god, and create his own world.

I needed to quickly address the issue with magic because Victor was far ahead of me in that regard.

"Chronos, begin the development of the anti-OZ serum."

—= Some Time Later =—

Using every available moment within the dome, I tirelessly worked on refining my newfound abilities. These long hours, days, months, and years of experiments and training allowed me to reach a new level of control over one of the fundamental forces of the universe.

Now I could use this power not only for complex tasks or in battles but also for managing everyday affairs, adding a touch of magic to the mundane aspects of my existence.

My quest for knowledge did not stop at my own abilities. I also began a deep study of the X-gene of Charles Xavier and Jean Grey. This project was still in its early stages, but I was confident that the results were only a matter of time.

After a long period of isolation and intense work on myself and my projects, I felt it was time to move on to the next task.

"Chronos, restore the normal flow of time," I said, feeling my feet touch the ground.

"Done, Dr. Richards," Chronos announced.

I was headed to Kamar-Taj, or more precisely, to their sanctuary branch in New York.