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Chapter 22 – The Art of Unexpected Deals
🕑 Added 2025-03-02 17:52:34 +0000 UTCThe Gorani Insurance Building loomed over the streets of Germany, its polished glass reflecting the afternoon sun.
Inside a luxury car, Tony Stark sat, legs crossed, smirking. Beside him, Pepper Potts sighed, rubbing her temples. "Alright, Tony. Let's try to be professional about this. We're already too late to make a good first impression."
Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Pfft. Who cares about first impressions?"
Pepper narrowed her eyes. "Insurance companies do. You know, the people who calculate risk for a living?"
Tony grinned. "You're just mad because I was right about stopping for pretzels."
Pepper exhaled sharply. "No. I'm mad because you derailed our schedule by getting involved in a museum heist!"
Tony tilted his head. "Hey, in my defense, it wasn't my fault the bad guys chose my roadblock to crash into."
Pepper glared.
Tony grinned wider.
She sighed, composing herself. "Okay, just… let's not argue when they're mad at us for being late."
Tony adjusted his tie casually. "Pfft. No one's gonna be mad."
Pepper gave him a look. "Tony, we're two hours late."
Tony smirked. "Oh, I know. But you said we're meeting with Evetta Gorani, right?"
Pepper nodded. "Yes. She's the heir of Gorani Insurance."
Tony leaned back, putting on his sunglasses. "Then trust me, Pepper—this will be smooth sailing. You won't even believe it."
Pepper folded her arms. "How?"
Tony smirked. "With my charm, of course."
Pepper muttered under her breath. "God help us."
The car pulled up to the entrance. Time to work some Stark magic.
Inside the Gorani Insurance headquarters, a receptionist led them past security and into the president's office. Tony walked with his usual swagger, Pepper following close behind. As the doors swung open, Tony expected to see Evetta Gorani sitting behind the desk, waiting to chew him out for being late.
Instead—
Evetta was standing to the side. And seated behind the desk… Was Michael Gorani. The president of Gorani Insurance. A distinguished older man, in his mid-sixties, silver-haired, wearing an expensive navy suit.
Tony froze for half a second.
Pepper whispered dryly. "So… how exactly are you going to 'charm' an old man?"
Tony shot her a side glance. "Watch and learn, Potts."
Michael Gorani smiled warmly, standing up. "Ah, Mr. Stark! Finally, we meet in person."
Tony grinned, stepping forward. "Mr. Gorani. Sorry for the delay—traffic, pretzels, and a minor case of vigilante justice."
Michael chuckled. "Oh, no apologies necessary. In fact, I should be the one thanking you."
Pepper blinked. "Thanking… him?"
Michael motioned to his secretary. "Bring some drinks for our guests. Beer or coffee, Mr. Stark?"
Tony grinned. "German beer, please."
Michael nodded. "Two beers, then—one for me, one for Mr. Stark."
Pepper sighed. "None for me, thank you."
The secretary left the room.
Pepper turned back to Michael, her confusion clear. "Mr. Gorani, I have to ask—why are you thanking Tony?"
Before Michael could answer, Evetta stepped forward. The young woman had a poised, calculating look, her expression unreadable. "Because today, Mr. Stark stopped a 100-million-dollar heist from succeeding."
Tony smirked.
Pepper's eyes widened slightly. "The Maltese Museum heist?"
Michael laughed. "Yes. That stolen painting? It was insured under us."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "So what you're saying is… I saved you a ton of money today?"
Michael grinned. "Hundreds of millions, actually."
Tony turned to Pepper, his smirk growing. He didn't need to say it. His face screamed 'I told you so.' Pepper closed her eyes, exhaling. "I hate that you were right."
Michael chuckled. At that moment, the secretary returned, carrying two cold German beers. Michael lifted his glass. "To unexpected fortune, Mr. Stark."
Tony clinked his glass against his. "Cheers to that."
And just like that—The meeting was already going smoother than they could have ever expected.
…
The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters.
Jack stood outside the front gate, hands on his hips, admiring the massive mansion before him. "Damn. What a big-ass house." He tilted his head, whistling. "Baldy really loaded, huh?"
Then—he spotted movement in the distance. A scruffy, cigar-smoking man working on a motorcycle in the garage.
Jack's eyes lit up. He raised his hand and waved enthusiastically. "HEYYY, WOLVIEEEE!"
From the garage, Logan paused mid-fix. His nostrils flared. A smell hit him—Musky. Wild. Animalistic. A monkey scent. His gaze snapped to the front gate. There—standing like he owned the damn place—Was a young man dressed in a flowing black-and-pink Chinese robe, long hair swaying in the breeze.
Logan squinted."What the hell…?"
He grabbed his cigar, took a slow drag, then walked over to the gate. As he approached, he could already tell—this guy wasn't normal.
Jack grinned wider.
Logan exhaled smoke, stopping a few feet away. "Alright, bub. Who the hell are you, and what are you doin' here?"
Jack tilted his head. Then, dead serious, he asked: "Have you heard about our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?"
Logan blinked. Then, his eyes narrowed. "You ain't no damn missionary."
Jack sighed dramatically. "Fine, you got me. I'm actually here to see my child."
Logan raised a brow. "Who?"
Jack kept a straight face. "Sugon."
Logan frowned. "Sugon?"
Jack snickered. "Sugon deez nuts." Then—he broke into full-blown manic laughter. "KEKEKEKEKEKE!"
Logan stared blankly.
Jack clutched his stomach, still laughing. "You—you lived through both World Wars and still fell for a Deez Nuts joke! KEKEKEKEKEKE!"
Logan's eye twitched. Then—he froze. "...What did you just say?"
Jack grinned. "What? That you fell for a Deez Nuts joke?"
Logan's snarl deepened. "No. The other thing."
Jack's grin widened. Then, he tapped his chin innocently. "Ohhh, you mean the part about you living through World War I and II?"
Logan's entire body tensed. His cigar nearly fell from his mouth.
Jack gasped mockingly. "Oh nooo, do you not know?" His expression became mischievous. "Has your memory not come back yet?"
Logan took a sharp step forward. His claws didn't come out—but his aura was dangerous.
Jack tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Oops. Spoilers?"
Logan gritted his teeth. "You're comin' with me."
Jack held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, no need to get violent! I was just about to leave. Gonna go next door and ask the neighbors about Jesus Christ."
Before he could move—Logan grabbed him by the collar.
Jack blinked.
Logan's snarl deepened. "You're explainin' everything. In front of Hank and Chuck."
Jack sighed dramatically, arms crossed. "Wow. People really hate spoilers, huh?"
Still, he let Logan drag him. He could have easily dodged. He could have outrun Logan in a second. But where's the fun in that?
So, as Logan stormed through the gates, dragging him along, Jack just pouted. "This is totally an overreaction. I mean, really—dragging a man by his collar? So primitive."
Logan ignored him.
Jack sighed again. "I should've just stuck with Deez Nuts jokes."
And so—Jack was forcefully escorted into Xavier's Mansion. For the first time in history—A Deez Nuts joke led to an interrogation.
Logan stormed through the halls of the Xavier Institute, dragging Jack by the collar. Jack, arms crossed, legs lazily swinging, looked completely unbothered.
As they moved deeper into the mansion, students turned their heads, watching the bizarre sight unfold.
Jack grinned and waved. "Hello, X-Kids! Don't mind your grumpy teacher! He's just dragging an innocent missionary to god-knows-where!"
Some students snickered. A few of the younger ones gasped, whispering to each other. Jack noticed one particular student. A bald, young monk-like kid in winter robes.
Jack immediately put his hands together, bowing slightly. "Amitābha."
The boy—Tenzin—bowed back. "Amitābha."
Kurt tilted his head. "Wait, I thought he said he was a missionary?"
Jack grinned. "Multitasking, my blue friend."
Logan ignored all of it. His grip tightened as he pulled Jack toward Xavier's office.
Jack sighed. "Man, you are so impatient. Have you considered yoga?"
Logan grunted. "Shut up."
The doors to Xavier's office swung open. Inside, Charles Xavier and Ororo Munroe were mid-conversation. They both turned toward the sudden intrusion.
Logan unceremoniously dropped Jack onto the floor. Jack landed on his feet effortlessly, dusting off his robe.
Logan crossed his arms. "Where's Hank?"
Storm raised an eyebrow. "In the medbay. Why?"
Logan grunted. "Call him."
Charles picked up his office phone, dialing calmly. "Hank, could you come to my office real quick?"
Hank's voice crackled through the speaker. "Sure thing, Charles. Be right there."
As Charles hung up, Jack leaned against the desk, smirking. "Why not just call him with your telepathic hibbee-gibbee?"
Charles smiled. "Because people don't like having others in their heads. Even lovers have their secrets."
Jack clicked his tongue. "Then why the hell were you in my head that day when I was dancing?"
Charles chuckled. "I wasn't in your head. I merely sensed your presence. I thought you were a new, unique case of meta ability, so I tried to observe from a distance."
Jack narrowed his eyes. "Hmm… makes sense. Still, not cool, Baldy. That was me time."
Charles smiled apologetically. "I understand. And for that, I do apologize."
Storm looked between them, raising an eyebrow. "What exactly happened?"
Jack turned to her, putting a hand over his chest. "Oh, it's nothing, love. Just a bad first impression with dear ol' Baldy here."
Storm's brow raised. But before she could respond—Snickering. Outside the door, several students had gathered, eavesdropping.
Jack's nickname for Xavier had clearly reached their ears. "Baldy?" someone whispered. "Oh my god, did he just call Professor Xavier Baldy?" A wave of suppressed laughter followed.
Then—a deep voice from the hallway. "You kids shouldn't be snooping around." The students scattered instantly. Hank McCoy stepped inside, adjusting his glasses. "Logan, what's going on?"
Logan motioned toward Jack. "Sit down, Hank."
Hank sighed, sitting down. "Alright, I'm sitting. Now, can someone explain why Logan is dragging around a man in a pink-accented robe?"
Logan turned to Jack, arms crossed. "Tell them what you said to me."
Jack smirked. "That you're primitive?"
Logan's eye twitched. "Start from the beginning."
Jack shrugged, sitting on the edge of Xavier's desk.
"Alright, fine. In the beginning, my dad fell in love with my mom—"
"THINGS ABOUT MY LIFE, YOU FUCKER!"
Jack grinned. "Ohhh, you mean the part about you living through both World Wars?"
Silence.
Storm's eyes widened. Hank's brows furrowed. And Xavier? His expression turned serious. "...Logan?" Xavier asked.
Logan was frozen, absorbing the information again. His jaw clenched, hands tightening into fists.
Jack watched him carefully. Then—he grinned. "Ohhhh. You guys also didn't know. Interesting."
The room tensed.
Because if Jack knew something about Logan's past… Then Logan's past wasn't just a mystery anymore. It was something buried. Something hidden.
And Jack? Jack had just dug it up.
