A Mutant Collector Quest

"Now, we come to the part many of you have been waiting for — the Q&A session," I said, already catching the impatient glances happening throughout the audience. "But first — some ground rules. You may direct your questions to any of the three of us, but only one question per person. Raise your hand, and I will call on you. No personal questions — we're all busy, and our timeline is tight. We're trying to put a Citadel in space in three months, after all," I added with a chuckle.

A wave of hands shot up instantly, some borderline frantic.

I sat down between Tessa and Lusamine, offering each a polite nod. That's when I noticed her — a hot blonde in the front row doing everything short of flashing her tits to grab my attention.

"Yes — Christine, front row," I said, gesturing toward her with a smile. "You just joined the Daily Bugle, right? How are you liking it so far?"

She stood up, accepting the microphone from a staff member. "Hi, Luke. I'm honestly surprised — and flattered — that you remembered. And yes, I'm loving it so far."

"I'm always glad when my employees are happy," I said with a wink. "So — what's your question?"

Christine's smile shifted into something sharper, more professional.

"Luke — twenty times the size of the ISS? That station took over a decade of international collaboration to assemble. And you're saying Citadel will launch in just three months? With all due respect, how is that even logistically possible?"

I nodded, appreciating the directness.

"A fair question. And the answer is simple: we're not starting from zero," I said evenly. "For the past two years, we have been constructing prefabricated modules — quietly — at our private island facility, beyond the reach of red tape and delays. Materials have already been sourced. Logistics and orbital trajectories? Simulated, tested, and validated thousands of times." I ended with a confident smile.

A well-crafted lie, wrapped in just enough truth to pass inspection.

In reality, we hadn't been building anything for two years. We barely had more than blueprints and ambition. The only reason I could stand here and make that claim — the only reason any of this was remotely possible — was because of Carina Tivan.

She had handed me the full schematics of the Advanced Space Station.

Alien technology. Decades ahead of anything Earth had even dreamed of. Fully integrated systems, scalable modules, gravitational architecture that bent conventional physics just enough to work. And D.A.I.S.Y.? She did the rest — faking the milestones, crafting paper trails, simulating research logs, and stitching together an R&D timeline so clean no audit team could sniff it out.

I couldn't exactly tell the world that the real architect of their future might still be out there… watching me. Or hunting me.

So I smiled — and claimed the credit without blinking.

"And we're not doing this alone," I continued, looking back to the crowd. "Stark Industries, SpaceX, NASA — and more — are partnering with Watson ExoDynamis to make it all possible."

I gave Christine a wry grin.

"The ISS walked so Citadel could fly. This Space Station Citadel will carry us beyond Earth's orbit… and into a future where humanity builds among the stars."

Christine gave me a satisfied smile and sat down — one leg crossing over the other, deliberately. Her pose offered a perfect view of her long smooth legs.

I appreciated it. Briefly.

Then quickly moved on to the next reporter.

"What about funding? Even with allies like Stark, this has to cost billions. The ISS alone cost around $150 billion — and that was a decade ago. How are you paying for all this?" the next reporter asked after his brief introduction.

"With a lot of zeroes — and a lot of help," I said with a light chuckle.

"Funding is diversified. Yes, Watson Group leads, but we have brought in investments from multiple sovereign wealth funds, private philanthropists, and several international R&D grants. We're also launching a global Citizen Science Program next month. Every country will be able to contribute — and gain access. And we're still expanding our partnerships, so this project will remain well-funded well into the future."

I smiled, then added with pride,

"Also, this is a privately-built space station. Our cost margins are less than 20% of what the ISS required — despite being twenty times its size."

"So it'll still cost $30 billion?" he asked, stunned.

"For now… yes," I said evenly, already turning toward the next reporter.

"You're saying NASA and other government space agencies are just… bystanders?" another reporter cut in, clearly agitated.

"Not at all," I said, calm but firm. "NASA, ESA, JAXA — they have all been invited to participate as partners. This isn't a territorial grab. It's a platform — open to every nation, every scientist, every dreamer who wants to work in peace." I added moving towards the next person.

"And is this an American project, then?" an older man called out. "Will Citadel fall under U.S. jurisdiction?"

"No," I said plainly. "Citadel is registered under an independent charter — governed not by any one country, but by an international consortium of partner organizations. The governance model is loosely based on the Antarctic Treaty: science-first, no weapons, no territorial claims."

I glanced across the crowd and added, "And when it comes to space — borders end where gravity ends. This is humanity's citadel, not just America's. We're already in talks with research teams from South Korea, Germany, Kenya, India, and many more."

I pointed to a young woman next. "Your question?"

"Okay, but… why you? Why not let nations build this together over decades?" she asked, sharp and direct.

"Because we don't have decades," I replied, matching her tone with steady calm. "Climate change, overpopulation, energy instability — we're running out of time to experiment slowly. Governments have limitations. I don't."

I gave a warm smile.

"Speed isn't the enemy of safety — it's the enemy of stagnation. And this was never just about me. It never was. We all either reach for the stars… or stay stuck in the mud. I choose the stars."

She seemed satisfied enough with the answer and sat down.

"Alright," I said, gesturing toward my co-hosts, "Why don't you all take this opportunity to ask these two lovely ladies a few questions as well?"

I pointed to a young man who looked a little too eager, eyes lingering on Tessa.

"My question is for Miss Potts," he said quickly. "Tessa — are you related to Pepper Potts? Were you… groomed by her as a successor? And if yes, do you see her more as a mentor or a legacy you have to live up to?"

Tessa smiled, answering with grace and clarity.

"Yes, I was adopted by Pepper at a young age. And I always wanted to be like her. So for me, she's not just my mother — she's my mentor. I was trained by one of the sharpest minds in the corporate world. But I have to add… I carry her lessons, not her shadow."

That story — of Sage being adopted by Pepper Potts — was something the two of them cooked up together. According to Sage, it had the highest statistical probability of securing her position within the company. She didn't mind changing her last name; it never meant much to her.

Pepper, on the other hand, was delighted by the idea — even letting my joke slide about whether Toni or I should technically be called Sage's "dad."

Thanks to D.A.I.S.Y., her digital life was perfectly sculpted: birth records, school history, everything. Combined with some expert makeup and calculated presentation, no one speaking to her would ever guess she was only sixteen.

But still that was all her decision. She wanted to use her powers — fully and efficiently. And for that, she needed to be in a position of influence. "It's optimal," she once told me.

There were gasps and murmurs across the room — this was the first time it had been revealed that Pepper Potts had an adopted daughter, and such a young woman at that.

"Next question," I said, pointing to a woman near the center.

"Tessa, could you clarify — how do you plan to keep 120 people alive in orbit for extended periods? That's a closed ecosystem."

"Great question," Tessa said with a nod. "You're right — the human body is demanding: oxygen, water, food, emotional stability. So we didn't just design a station — we designed an environment. Every module of Citadel uses a hybrid life support system that combines StarkTech atmospheric filtration, Baxter Labs' adaptive nanofabrics, and Aether Foundation's biotech ecosystems."

She gestured toward Lusamine beside her.

"In fact, without the Aether Foundation, much of this would still be theoretical."

Lusamine smiled graciously. "Thank you, Tessa. At Aether, we've spent years building controlled biospheres — from deep-sea habitats to high-radiation environments. Citadel is simply the next step."

She turned to the audience. "We're providing the bio-integrated support systems: oxygen-cycling algae tanks, zero-gravity crop cultivation, and living filtration cells derived from coral reef DNA. These aren't just machines — they're living systems. Regenerative, adaptive, and designed for long-term sustainability with minimal maintenance."

I smiled to myself. Tessa had already anticipated and prepared for nearly every question. But Lusamine? She was exceeding expectations. Originally, we had planned for my friend Elon and NASA's director to sit with us — but a fresh scandal had taken Elon out of the picture, and the NASA director's presence would've overshadowed Watson Group's leadership role. In the end, it was just Lusamine, Tessa, and me. Even Susan had gracefully backed out, knowing her presence might pull attention away from me.

After several thoughtful questions directed at the two of them, the focus gradually shifted back to me.

"Still, Mr. Watson," a middle-aged man said sharply, "you're creating an off-Earth society. Won't people see it as a retreat for the rich? A utopia to escape into — or worse, a lifeboat in case of global collapse?"

"No," I said, meeting his gaze evenly. "This isn't a lifeboat. It's a lighthouse. Every part of Citadel is designed to serve Earth — not abandon it. Energy experiments to reduce grid strain. Medical labs that bypass red tape and bring research to the people faster. Emergency refuge programs for global disasters."

I leaned forward slightly. "We're not escaping the world. We're building for it."

Then I pointed to another reporter — a young man ready with his tablet. "Next."

"Lucas, what happens if this fails?" a man from an independent outlet asked, his voice cutting through the air. "Von Doom Industries' space mission failed just months ago. Sure, we got the Fantastic Four out of it, but people are still scared of space. If this massive city falls from orbit… won't it wipe us all out?"

The question stirred uneasy murmurs across the room.

"It won't fail," I said, smiling calmly. "Because too many brilliant minds have poured everything into this — including me."

"But that mission had Dr. Reed Richards," he pressed, clearly not satisfied.

I gave a small, wry smile.

And I had a blueprint from an alien civilization. I couldn't exactly say that out loud. I had the answers handed to me; Reed had to discover them the hard way. He played fair. I… didn't.

"There are failsafes in place," I said instead. "Multiple layers. But if something does go wrong — I'll rebuild. We'll try again. And again. Because yes, there are risks. But the greater risk? Doing nothing. Staying grounded. Watching the stars fade while we bicker on Earth. That ends now."

I looked around the room, voice steady.

"Humanity is stepping forward. Together."

Applause broke out again — stronger this time.

"Will the Citadel be open to the public? For tourism?"

"Is it really not a weapon?"

"Who keeps you accountable if something goes wrong?"

"What's the name of the Citadel?"

The questions kept coming — wave after wave — until, inevitably, someone asked about my love life.

"Are you and Tessa dating?"

"Miss Lusamine, would you consider Lucas husband material?"

At that point, I decided it was time to wrap things up.

"The Citadel," I said firmly, rising to my feet, "is our first brick. Humanity's first outpost in the sky."

I looked over the sea of reporters, cameras flashing.

"Thank you all for coming. And I promise you — this won't be the last press conference where we announce the impossible."

---

Sigh. The press conference had been grueling, sure — but what comes next? That was going to be a hell of a lot worse.

It wasn't just the government or the public I had to worry about now. The wolves in the dark — hidden organizations, power-hungry individuals — they would start circling too, all ready to sink their teeth into the flesh of the Watson Group and tear the Citadel Project apart for a taste of control.

I needed to breathe. To shut it all out for a while.

So I left everything behind for the night and headed to Cassandra's place.

There were things I had to discuss — the spiders, Penny, all of it.

And maybe… bending her over and fucking her ass rough would give me the stress relief I fucking needed!