"David, seriously, I suggest you wear a wig. It'll make you look friendlier. Otherwise, every time I see you, I just end up missing my Mark suit."
Tony Stark, dressed in a sleek custom black suit and sunglasses, gave this bit of fashion advice to David, who was sitting at the secretary's desk outside the office. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he pushed open the door and walked in, grumbling to Carl:
"Morning traffic in New York is a nightmare. It took me an hour to get from Stark Tower to your company. If I'd worn the Mark suit, I'd have been here in five minutes flat."
"That's perfect, then. More people get to see the ad printed on the back of your armor. Great exposure means better sales for our product."
Carl gave Tony a cheerful thumbs-up.
Tony's smile dropped instantly. "Now that you mention it, I'm seriously reconsidering ever wearing the suit outside again."
He loved stepping out in the Mark suit—stylish, convenient, and always turning heads. It made him the center of attention. But now? That obnoxious advertisement slogan on the back of the suit completely ruined the vibe.
"Don't be so negative. You'll get used to it. It's like how teenagers wear hoodies with weird phrases—they think it's edgy. Yours just happens to promote health and save lives. Think about it: the people who get better because of your endorsement will thank you. And hey, no need to worry about the palladium poisoning either—use the suit as much as you like. If it gets too much, just come to me. I'll clean it out."
Carl gave Tony a sincere pat on the shoulder, clearly trying to lift his spirits.
Tony sighed again and pulled a small device from his pocket, placing it on the desk.
"My palladium toxicity is currently at 5%. So… what's your magic plan to clear it?"
"Simple," Carl replied.
He placed his hand on Tony's chest and immediately activated the A-rank medical ninjutsu—the Mystical Palm Technique.
In the Naruto world, mastering this technique was the baseline for becoming a qualified medical ninja. It allowed for healing wounds, treating illnesses, and yes—removing toxins. While not the most advanced technique, it was versatile and reliable. For more severe injuries, a higher-tier technique like the Regeneration Technique was required, often demanding the combined effort of an entire team of medical ninjas.
There was also a special Extraction Technique, used for detoxification and organ transplant—far more effective than the Mystical Palm—but it was highly advanced and chakra-intensive.
Carl wasn't entirely sure whether the Mystical Palm Technique alone could completely eliminate Tony's palladium poisoning, but he wasn't worried. If it failed, he could still get Tony to build a prototype of the new element that would cure it—just like in the original storyline.
What gave him hope, however, was understanding how the ninjutsu worked. Unlike conventional medicine, this detox method relied on precisely controlled chakra to push toxins out of the body. As long as the poison wasn't fused with mutated chakra, it was treatable.
Palladium poisoning, after all, was elemental. Just like lead, mercury, or cadmium poisoning—it was toxic, but straightforward. Rare, yes, but not supernatural. The only reason no one had cured it on Earth yet was because no one had ever encountered it in a context like Tony's reactor.
As Carl skillfully manipulated chakra, the energy swept through Tony's chest, isolating and gathering the dispersed palladium particles and pushing them out.
"Done," Carl said after just five seconds, stepping back and pulling his hand away.
"That's it?" Tony blinked, clearly not expecting the detox to be so quick. He'd just started to feel a warm sensation in his chest, and suddenly Carl was saying it was over?
"What? You think I enjoy putting my hand on a grown man's chest? You're not my wife," Carl replied with a smirk, settling back at his desk.
Still doubtful, Tony picked up his palladium detector and pricked his thumb.
"…Zero?" He stared at the result in disbelief. "You really cleared it?"
His face shifted between shock and relief. The cure had come so easily—it almost didn't feel real.
He was happy, of course. But a small part of him groaned at the realization that this meant he'd now have to fulfill the promise of endorsing Carl's product. He had no excuse now.
Carl didn't give him much time to dwell.
"David, take Mr. Stark down to the temporary studio to shoot the commercial."
He pressed a button on his communicator and gave the order. Then, turning to Tony, he added:
"To save you some time, Jack had a professional ad team set up a studio downstairs. All you have to do is pose."
"Should I thank you for that?" Tony deadpanned.
As David walked in, posture stiff like a soldier escorting a prisoner, Tony could already see his fate sealed for the day.
"Come on, Tony, you've got this," Carl called out with a grin, waving as his reluctant friend was led away.
Once the ad featuring Tony aired, the global media would explode with coverage. The Power Pills would be everywhere. Sales would skyrocket. It was only a matter of time before Carl's company unlocked the next milestone: becoming a top-tier firm in New York.
After Tony wore that suit in public a few more times, Carl figured he might not even need to make new drugs anymore—the Hudson Group would soon rival Stark Industries.
After all, Iron Man had plastered an ad for the three-color pill right onto his iconic armor. That said everything. If even he trusted it, how could the public not?
This was the difference between Carl's business and Stark's. Stark Tech was sleek, futuristic, and largely unattainable. Most people couldn't dream of affording it.
But the Power Pill—especially the green, low-cost version—was different. It was affordable, effective, and accessible. Even a homeless man could buy one.
In the near future, the Power Pill would become a household name.
A staple in every home.
A health revolution.