The boy was seated across from the man, green eyes glaring.

The older man had just finished a story, his face flushed from his exaggerated arm movements and sound effects. He didn't look very stylish in his orange jumpsuit, but he wasn't one to complain about fashion.

The boy did not look amused. He tapped his fingers on the counter and used his other hand to scratch his ear.

"You said Iron Man killed my father." His voice was smooth and cool, as if he spent a lot of time talking to people to get what he wanted.

"Oh, he did," the man said quickly. "It was ruthless, believe me. I tried to do everything in my power to save him, but I was too late. Iron Man fired his blaster before I could blink... I still feel as if it's my fault. I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

The boy leaned back in his chair, delicately chewing his piece of gum. "You're right. It is your fault." The man gulped. "But I'm not one to hold grudges, except for the man who straight-up murdered him."

The man's eyes narrowed thoughtfully and a Grinch-grin slowly spread across his face. He glanced at the guards flanking him, then leaned closer to the window.

"You know, my client just wanted that asset. If you went to them and helped them get it back, I'm sure they wouldn't hesitate to help you get your revenge."

The boy's stone-cold face slowly cracked into a smile.

"Worth a shot. Give me their number?"

The man chuckled, shaking his head as their time ended. "Oh, I think you'll know where to find them."