"Listen to me, child. You don't know what you're holding. It's not worth much. Give it to me, I can offer you food, cash," Howard Stark reasoned, mistaking Aiden for a thieving street urchin.
But Aiden was well aware of the treasure in his grasp—he had come specifically for the Super Soldier Serum.
"Oh, my God, you're that child, you're the kid from Hell's Kitchen!" Contrary to the ever-busy Howard, immersed in his work, his wife was more down-to-earth. The dim streetlight allowed her to see Aiden's youthful face clearly, and she recalled the recent news about the hardships he had endured.
"Child, the death of your parents is no excuse for stealing. Give it back to us, and I promise, we will forgive you and ensure you're placed in a good environment to grow up in. Trust me, I can help you," Mrs. Stark said, her motherly instincts surfacing as she regarded Aiden's dirty face and tattered clothes.
Aiden's diminutive stature posed no threat, and Mrs. Stark, reminded of the news where Aiden was beaten by Dale's henchmen, approached with a look of pity in her eyes.
Howard, clearly not prepared to aim a gun at his wife, knew that after all, the child couldn't outrun two adults. "We have an important meeting to attend shortly, try to make this quick," he said to her.
"I understand," she replied, glancing back at Howard before continuing her approach. Aiden, meanwhile, retreated step by step, seemingly fearful, but not towards the main road. Instead, he edged toward the dense forest, confident he could quickly escape once within the trees.
"Don't be afraid, come here," Mrs. Stark said gently, causing Aiden's heart to wrestle with itself, for he knew that this couple was soon to meet their end.
"Mr. and Mrs. Stark, if I were you, I wouldn't continue this journey. I hope you can return to a safe place as quickly as possible," Aiden finally let out, revealing potentially plot-altering information.
The couple paused, taken aback by the seemingly knowledgeable child. Did he know them?
Then, under their astonished gaze, Aiden's body darted into the forest, vanishing into the trees with astonishing speed.
"Did I really see that, Howard? Tell me it was real," Mrs. Stark said, bewildered, struggling to articulate her shock.
Howard Stark was equally astounded. Despite his worldliness, he had never encountered such a phenomenon—a child who could fly, and one who had stolen a vial of Super Soldier Serum. The consequences of the serum falling into the wrong hands were uncertain.
Whether it was the mysterious child or the serum in his hands, Howard wanted to seize both. He quickly pulled out his phone to dial a number.
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The silenced gunshot was not overly loud, certainly not louder than the approaching roar of a motorbike. A bullet struck Howard Stark's wrist with precision, sending him tumbling backward as his phone clattered to the ground.
"Howard!" Mrs. Stark cried out in alarm, rushing to inspect his wound.
"Damn it," Howard grunted, pulling out his gun with his other hand. But the mechanical roar was already upon them; a heavy motorbike raced toward the couple, knocking them to the ground with a brutal impact.
The heavy bike skidded across the road in an arc, coming to a steady halt. A disheveled man planted one foot on the ground to secure the bike, then approached with deliberate calm.
Howard, dazed and confused, tried to focus his eyes, only to see a silent beast approaching. The man's large, muscular frame, obscured by wild hair, was partly made of an exquisitely crafted metal arm that glinted ominously under the streetlights. The faded red star on his bicep spoke of a storied past, incongruous with the sleek metal.
As the mysterious man reached the trunk, he frowned at the sight of the remaining four vials of serum. He turned and strode toward Howard, grasping his pallid hair with a sudden change in his grim expression.
Howard's mind was foggy, but he managed to widen his eyes and gasp, "Sergeant Barnes?"
The man known as Barnes paused, his brooding face wrestling with emotion before he delivered a crushing blow to Howard's head.
Aiden raced through the woods, his body soon covered in leaves and mud. Breaking free from the forest, he slipped unnoticed into a medium-sized villa's territory.
The villa appeared uninhabited for some time, perhaps the family had gone on vacation, with only a cleaning crew visiting weekly. Aiden was unfamiliar with the lifestyle of the wealthy, but for now, he made himself at home. Skirting the edge of an outdoor pool, he leaned against a glass door. With a slight motion of his fingers, the door swung open from the inside, and Aiden entered quietly.
"Medkit, first-aid box," he murmured, rummaging through the villa for what he needed. After a thorough search, he found the supplies behind a bathroom mirror.
Carefully cleaning himself, Aiden connected an IV line. His left hand deftly suspended the Super Soldier Serum mid-air, hanging it on the showerhead while he inserted the needle into his vein.
The cool liquid surged into Aiden's body, indistinguishable from a normal IV at first. He sat down on the floor and waved his hand, summoning several towels to cover his small frame.
The tranquility didn't last long. Suddenly, Aiden's eyes snapped open as waves of pain radiated throughout his body, intensifying with each passing moment.
"My, heavens," he gasped, cold sweat beading on his forehead, his body trembling as he clutched the towels tighter.
The pain was unlike anything he'd felt before, far worse than the beating from the bodyguard.
"I probably should—" As Aiden reached to remove the needle, it was too late. His mind went blank, his body limp and convulsing, his head falling to the side as the cold floor failed to revive his foggy brain.
Aiden lay powerless, the last thought in his mind: "I'm a disaster wherever I go. Maybe it's better to die like this..."
After an indeterminate amount of time, the villa's door swung open. A silent, muscular man entered, speaking softly, "Entered the designated area."
The man began a meticulous search of the house until he reached the master bedroom's bathroom on the second floor and halted.
His gun aimed at the unconscious child on the floor, the serum fully injected. The IV line, not removed, was now backflowing with blood, filling the bag with a crimson hue.
"Boy, Asian. 5 or 6 years old, about 4 feet tall," a cold voice echoed in the bathroom.
After a pause, the silent man stepped forward, rifled through the first-aid kit, and applied a bandage to Aiden's injection site. He removed the needle, wrapped Aiden in a towel, and hoisted the child onto his shoulder.