Begin from the original form of torture and become immortal

Chapter 1734 The Prelude to Hell and the Doomsday Tour

A deep, resonant hum, originating from the deep structure of matter, like a sigh from the Earth's core, penetrates the specially designed observation window, striking the nerves of every person who enters.

The giant cocoon floats in the center of a complex force field matrix, which consists of multiple nested ring-shaped energy emitters. Cold blue arcs of electricity leap silently between the emitters, forming an invisible net of restraint.

Surrounded by countless sensor probes, like a swarm of thirsty metallic leeches, they clung tightly to the surface of the cocoon, greedily absorbing every bit of biological activity data, energy radiation spectrum, and spatial distortion readings.

"Sir, the main airtight gate opening procedure has been initiated. Director Fury and his inspection team members have passed identity verification, and the biometric scan showed no abnormalities. Security protocol 'Merton' is ready."

Jarvis's calm voice rang in Tony's ears. At the same time, several holographic screens above the main console switched instantly, clearly displaying the real-time scene of the corridor outside the gate: Nick Fury's iconic black trench coat and cold, one-eyed figure were at the forefront, followed by Rumlow, Captain America, Black Widow, and Hawkeye.

Tony Stark stood with his back to the entrance, his arms tightly crossed over his chest, as if to ward off the chill of the entire abyss.

He stood in front of the control panel, no longer wearing his signature ornate battle armor, but a set of dark gray work clothes stained with oil and some unknown dark brown stains.

The dark circles under his eyes were as thick as bruises, his stubble was messy, and even the signature curve of his mouth, which was a mixture of arrogance and mockery, looked exhausted at this moment, like a mask that had been used too much and was about to shatter at any moment.

Before him, a massive holographic interface flowed with a waterfall of data, the core of which was the real-time dynamic model of the giant crimson cocoon. Beside it, alarming parameters constantly jumped: the peak energy radiation continued to slowly climb, the spatial distortion index oscillated at the edge of the danger threshold, and the bioactivity readings resembled the electrocardiogram of a dying person, occasionally bursting out with eerie pulses that were chilling.

The heavy, airtight gate emitted a sharp hissing sound as high-pressure gas was released, and the metallic scraping echoed in the confined space like the panting of a giant beast.

Nick Fury strode in, his black trench coat billowing out in a chilly gust of air.

His single eye, like a searchlight, swept across the suffocating steel structure of the entire containment area in an instant, across the massive equipment that operated silently and flashed various colored warning lights, and finally locked firmly on the pulsating, eerie red cocoon in the holographic projection, lingering for several oppressive seconds before slowly moving toward Tony's back.

"Welcome to the front hall of Hell, Fury."

Tony's voice rang out, noticeably hoarse and deliberately sarcastic.

He finally turned around, the weary mask of arrogance on his face seeming to tighten even more. "I hope you and your 'doomsday tour group'..."

He raised his chin, his gaze sweeping like a searchlight over the surveillance team that filed in behind Fury. "They've all been injected with sufficient doses of iodine and radiation protection beforehand. I emailed the dosage charts; don't tell me your SHIELD email accounts were 'accidentally' hacked?"

He forced a cold smile, revealing gleaming white teeth, "Also..."

He waved his hand casually, with exaggerated, almost neurotic gestures, pointing to the devices flashing warning lights and the winding energy conduits. "Keep your hands to yourself, don't touch anything here."

He paused, lowered his voice, and added a genuine warning, "They're all not very good-tempered. If it gets too loud, everyone will be playing rock-paper-scissors with that 'Medusa' down there—the winner becomes quark soup, and the loser ascends directly to a higher dimension, saving you even the ashes."

Nick Fury stands like a black reef at the center of the verbal storm created by Tony.

His signature black leather trench coat almost blended into the shadows under the cold underground lights. He was completely unmoved by Tony's performance, as if those sharp words were merely the sound of the wind passing by his ears.

His gaze, sharp as a tempered steel nail, was fixed on Tony's face, piercing through the mask of weary arrogance, trying to capture the true state hidden beneath.

His voice was deep, carrying an undeniable, oppressive quality that seemed to emanate from the depths of the earth: "Stop with your act, Stark. This thing,"

He abruptly raised his hand, his movement as swift as a venomous snake hunting its prey, his index finger pointing precisely at the chilling, churning holographic energy projection within the cage—a projection that clearly displayed the raging particle flow and critical parameters within.
"This dangerous toy should no longer be something you can play with alone in your basement. It now concerns the safety of every living person in the world! It's a Damocles' sword hanging over human civilization! Your 'personal interests' and 'basement privileges' are worthless in its presence!"

"Oh? So you brought your top-notch 'nanny team' to sing lullabies to me?"

Tony's voice suddenly rose, laced with harsh sarcasm. His gaze, unabashed and filled with scrutiny and provocation, swept over the members behind Fury.

The gaze first fell on Captain America, Steve Rogers.

Rogers stood ramrod straight like a javelin, wearing combat gear instead of the iconic Stars and Stripes uniform, his brow furrowed, his deep blue eyes filled with disapproval and deep worry.

His very existence is like a touchstone of morality, silently questioning Tony's autocratic behavior.

His gaze swept over Black Widow Natasha Romanoff.

She stood quietly a little behind, her posture relaxed yet containing the alertness of a leopard, her deep red hair appearing even more mysterious in the dim blue light.

Her face was expressionless, like a bottomless ancient well, only her pair of emerald green eyes, like the most sophisticated scanner, silently collecting every detail of the environment, every tiny movement of Tony, and every intention of Fury.

Her calmness itself is a powerful pressure.

Then there was Hawkeye Clint Barton. He stood seemingly casually to Natasha's side and slightly behind, his body leaning slightly to maintain the best field of vision and reaction angle.

He turned his head slightly, his eyes sharp as a hawk's, vigilantly surveying the vast and dangerous containment area—towering force field generator pillars, densely packed sensor arrays, backup energy pipelines faintly visible beneath the ground grid, monitoring terminals flashing on the walls… every point that could pose a threat or a way out was being assessed by him quickly and professionally.

Finally, Tony's gaze, like two suddenly frozen icicles, landed precisely and coldly on Brock Rumlow.

Rumlow, codenamed "Crossbones," stood silently like a rock in the shadows behind and to the side of Fury, dressed in the standard uniform of S.H.I.E.L.D. Tactical Assault Team.

His face was expressionless, and his muscles were as hard as if they had been carved from rock.

(End of this chapter)