"You seem to like Peter?"
After May and Peter left, Wanda said teasingly while cuddling in Carl's arms, both of them casually watching TV.
During the earlier conversation, she had noticed Carl asking a lot of questions about Peter.
"Oh, I just think the kid is quite obedient,"
Carl nodded casually.
Through May's casual remarks, Carl had learned that Peter's parents in this world seemed to have been just ordinary employees who died in a car accident—nothing particularly special.
However, while no one was paying attention, Carl had secretly plucked a hair from Peter and planned to send it to Dr. Smith and the others for research.
After all, even if Peter's parents weren't as simple as they seemed, May herself, an ordinary civilian, wouldn't necessarily know the truth.
"Then why don't we have one of our own?"
Wanda suddenly looked up at Carl with a mischievous glint in her eye, catching him off guard.
"Isn't it a bit too early for that?"
Carl chuckled, scratching his head awkwardly.
He didn't hate the idea of having children.
But right now, his own strength wasn't yet absolute. The Marvel world was destined to face endless chaos and disaster in the future.
Having a child now would be a huge liability—it would become his greatest weakness.
Moreover, Wanda's powers were linked to Chthon, the god of Chaos magic. Carl worried that if she became pregnant, the child might attract unwanted supernatural attention or even be tampered with.
"It does seem a little early..."
Wanda tilted her head thoughtfully, then smiled and leaned back into Carl's arms.
She realized that her impulsive suggestion was a little premature.
Although Carl clearly liked kids, now really wasn't the best time.
Besides, she herself wasn't ready—being a mother was a huge responsibility, and she was still just twenty years old.
This Wanda wasn't the same as the canon version who was nearing thirty, having lost her brother and lover.
This Wanda had no lingering hatred in her heart; she lived happily with Carl each day and wasn't desperate to start a family yet.
Seeing Wanda didn't mind dropping the topic, Carl let out a silent sigh of relief.
"By the way, didn't we plan to visit Chinatown today? It's almost time to head out."
Carl quickly changed the subject.
Wanda checked the clock, gasped, and quickly hopped off the sofa, running towards the bedroom.
"Wait for me! I need to change clothes and do my makeup!"
For Wanda, today's outing was a big deal.
Born and raised in the impoverished region of Sokovia, she had never experienced something as lively and colorful as New York's Chinatown.
Today would be her first visit—and she was excited like a little girl.
While Wanda was getting ready, Carl handed a sealed plastic bag containing Peter's hair sample to Leo, who had been standing quietly by the door.
"Take this back to the lab. Have Dr. Smith and Dr. Lister run a full genetic analysis," Carl instructed.
Leo nodded silently, took the sample, and left to handle the task.
Twenty minutes later, Wanda reappeared—dressed in a vibrant red tracksuit, her long hair cascading down over her shoulders.
"I was going to wear a dress... but this feels more comfortable!
Honey, what do you think? How do I look?"
"You look beautiful,"
Carl smiled warmly, looking her up and down.
"But it might look even better with your hair tied up."
Honestly, to Carl, it made no difference whether Wanda wore a dress or casual clothes, or whether her hair was up or down.
She was beautiful either way.
However, he also understood something important—if he hesitated even a little, Wanda might feel uncertain about her outfit and rush back into the room to change again, costing them another twenty minutes.
Therefore, Carl answered quickly and sincerely—he had learned the art of relationship survival well!
You can't just agree directly—it would seem perfunctory. You must always offer a little advice, even if you're not sure it's useful.
This is the wisdom of married men!
Sure enough, after hearing Carl's suggestion, Wanda looked at herself in the mirror, nodded approvingly, quickly tied up her hair, and then happily pulled Carl out of the house.
While Carl and Wanda were happily strolling through the lively, bustling Chinatown under the bright lights, on the other side of the country, in a mansion in West Malibu, Los Angeles, Tony Stark was welcoming an unexpected guest.
"Jarvis, turn on the lights!"
Tony said as he removed his steel suit, heading down from the top floor to the living room, speaking to his mansion's smart butler.
Jarvis's magnetic, calm voice responded immediately:
"Yes, sir."
In an instant, the previously empty dark living room was brightly lit.
Well, not completely empty.
On the sofa sat a bald black man, quietly watching him with one sharp eye—Nick Fury.
"Oh... who the hell are you? Who allowed you to break into my house like this?!"
Startled by the sudden presence of the one-eyed stranger, Tony's tone was naturally full of irritation.
The bald man, clearly expecting this reaction, slowly stood up and introduced himself:
"Nick Fury. Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. One of my agents tried to contact you before, but you refused to meet him. So I had to come myself."
"Sorry, I don't care if you're the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. or the President himself—if you break into my house without permission, I can shoot you on the spot!"
Tony sneered coldly.
Hearing Nick Fury identify himself only made Tony's expression even darker:
"I already told my secretary to tell that Coulson guy—I'm not interested in your S.H.I.E.L.D. organization. Don't waste your time, even if S.H.I.E.L.D. was something my irresponsible father helped create."
Because of Carl's influence, Tony had no good feelings toward S.H.I.E.L.D.
So when he returned to New York and S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Phil Coulson tried to approach him, Tony had directly refused.
Nick Fury's one good eye narrowed slightly.
"How do you know that S.H.I.E.L.D. was founded by your father?"
he asked coldly.
"It feels like you know a lot more about us than you should."
According to Fury's intel, Tony Stark at this point shouldn't know anything about Howard Stark's role in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s founding.
Yet from Tony's tone, it was clear he knew plenty—and even held a grudge.
Tony shrugged nonchalantly:
"As the heir of Stark Industries, isn't it natural for me to know these things?"
Nick Fury stared at him for a few seconds but chose not to press further.
"Fine. Let's get to the real reason I'm here.
I've heard you're running around the world in your fancy suit, playing superhero.
Are you interested in joining my Avengers Initiative?"
Hearing this, Tony's face showed exaggerated confusion:
"What are you talking about?
Superhero? Me? Come on, how could I possibly be a superhero?"
At this point, only Rhodes knew Tony was Iron Man—it hadn't been made public yet.
Nick Fury calmly pulled out a tablet, tapped the screen, and showed images of Tony flying around the mansion in his armor, recorded by hidden surveillance.
Seeing the footage, Tony cursed Carl silently in his heart—this was exactly the trouble Carl had warned him about.
He waved his hand impatiently:
"Okay, okay, you got me. I'm Iron Man.
But I'm not interested in any so-called Avengers Initiative.
Now get out of my house before I call the police."
Tony's tone was firm and completely dismissive.
Nick Fury stared at him for a long moment, then finally spoke again, his tone serious:
"Think carefully before rejecting.
Also—don't reveal your identity to the public so casually.
It won't do you any good.
We'll help cover for you if necessary."