My cart at Central Park had become a hub of life. It was autumn 2009, October to be exact; the air had turned crisp, and leaves shifted from yellow to red, carpeting the park's grass like a tapestry. We were in the thick of Iron Man 2—Tony Stark was battling palladium poisoning from the Arc Reactor in his chest, a secret lifeline that was slowly killing him. No one knew except JARVIS, and Tony was chugging chlorophyll to mask the symptoms. Meanwhile, I was in Queens, at Central Park's south entrance near 59th Street, spinning my döner skewer, sizzling köfte on the grill, and scooping kaymaklı Kahramanmaraş ice cream into cones. Mesir Macun and Ottoman Macun were flying off the cart—youngsters grabbed them for stamina, seniors for strength. Turkish Coffee, salep, tea, and oralet fueled warm conversations around my setup.
The day before, Natalie Rushman—aka Natasha Romanoff—had asked me for something "energizing and healthy" for Tony. Then the system dropped the "Healing in Palladium's Shadow" quest: I had 24 hours to craft a drink to secretly help with Tony's palladium poisoning. Using my Herbal Medicine Mastery (Rare), I settled on Ottoman Sherbet, inspired by the ancient Turkish scholar Ibn Sina—a blood-cleansing, energy-boosting blend to counter toxins. I worked all night in my apartment, simmering turmeric, cinnamon, clove, milk thistle, a touch of ginger, and honey. I strained it, stirred patiently to nail the consistency, and by morning, I brought a bottle to the cart. The quest was done, but no one had tasted it yet. I poured the sherbet into a small jar, labeled it "Ottoman Sherbet—Healing & Energy," and set it on the cart's corner.
That day, the sky was gray, clouds blanketing Central Park, but the park stayed lively. Elderly ladies chatted on benches, kids tossed frisbees, tourists wandered with maps. As I flipped köfte, I heard a familiar engine—a deep, powerful purr from a luxury car. I looked up; a sleek black Audi R8 pulled up a few meters from my cart. The door opened, and out stepped Tony Stark. His dark gray suit was impeccable, but his face was pale, with faint shadows under his eyes—system had warned me palladium poisoning was taking its toll, though he hid it from everyone. Happy Hogan was with him, broad shoulders and stern gaze, scanning the area like he expected trouble any second. "Ali Usta!" Tony called, striding toward the cart with that charismatic smirk. "Loved your macuns—especially the Ottoman one, gave me a real boost. Got anything new up your sleeve?"
I grinned. "Got just the thing, Mr. Stark," I said, pointing to the sherbet jar. "Ottoman Sherbet, all natural, made for healing—lifts your energy, clears your head." Tony raised an eyebrow. "Sherbet, huh? Intriguing," he said, setting a green bottle on the cart. My eyes caught it—chlorophyll! Straight out of Iron Man 2, his go-to for staving off the poisoning. I played dumb. "Mr. Stark, that bottle… are you… drinking chlorophyll? Like, for some… poisoning or something? Doesn't it taste kinda… bitter?" Tony froze for a second, eyes narrowing, then burst out laughing. "Smart kid," he said. "Yeah, it's chlorophyll, but no poisoning—just, say, an experiment. And yes, it tastes like lawn clippings." He was lying, but I acted clueless. "Poor guy," I thought. "Goodbye chlorophyll, hello Ottoman Sherbet," I said with a chuckle, pouring him a glass and handing it over. "Try this, it's better."
Tony took the glass, sipped, and went, "Hmm." His eyes lit up, and he took another gulp. "This… it's different. Sweet, but fresh—makes me feel lighter. What's in it?" "Herbal stuff," I said, "cinnamon, turmeric, honey… trade secret." He smirked. "Secret, huh? Nice," he said, draining the glass. "If Pepper knew about this, she'd trash my chlorophyll stash." Happy cut in, "I'm grabbing a döner," tossing me $5. As I prepped it, a woman approached—red hair, poised, sharp blazer. Natalie Rushman. "You actually pulled it off," she said, her voice carrying a hint of respect. "This lovely lady brought me luck, Mr. Stark!" I said cheerfully. Tony blinked. "Her? You mean… Natalie Rushman?" "Yup," I said. "She asked if I could make something for you, so I gave it a shot." Natasha—aka Natalie—gave a faint smile. "It was meant to be, Ali," she said. "You're too kind!" I thought, but out loud, I said, "Thank you, ma'am."
Tony turned to her. "Natalie, where'd you find this guy?" Then to me, "The sherbet's killer, the macuns are gold—you coming to Malibu or what?" Happy mumbled, "Döner's solid too," mouth full. Tony pulled $500 from his pocket. "This is for the sherbet," he said. "Make me another bottle—I'll grab it next week. You've saved me from chlorophyll hell." I grinned, "Consider it done, Mr. Stark." As they headed to the car—Happy at the wheel, Natasha in the passenger seat, Tony in the back—the Audi R8 roared off. Right then, Ding! echoed in my ears. A blue screen flashed:
"Quest Completed! Reward: New Skill: Machinery & Engine Mastery (Rare) and New Profession: Baker (Master).
Customer Satisfaction Tokens (CST): +50."
"No way!" I thought. Another 50 CST from Tony—MCU headliners were on another level compared to regular folks!
Machinery & Engine Mastery (Rare): "Expertise in repairing, designing, and enhancing machines and engines—speed and precision in mechanical systems."
"Sweet… that'll come in handy," I said.
Baker (Master): "Mastery in crafting bread, pastries, and baked goods—years of experience baked into perfect texture and flavor."
"Huh?" I said. "Another random reward. But wait…" An idea sparked. "What if… I use scrap again and build an oven? Then… simit?" My eyes gleamed. "Turkish simit and tea… yeah." I could design an oven with Electrical Engineering Mastery, power it with Machinery & Engine Mastery, and bake simit—crisp, sesame-crusted, paired with strong tea—using my Baker profession. I'd start a simit revolution in Queens!
Packing up the cart, my mind buzzed with plans. Tony ditching chlorophyll for my sherbet, Natasha's nod of approval, new skills… "This system never stops surprising me," I said, laughing. Ayşe Teyze wandered over. "Ali, my boy, what's got you so busy?" she asked. "A surprise, teyzeciğim," I said. "You'll be eating simit soon." She smiled, took a salep, and settled on a bench. As the sun dipped behind the park's trees, I walked home, sherbet bottle in hand. "I sold healing to Tony Stark," I said, grinning. My Ottoman Sherbet had pushed back the palladium—for now, at least. Ali Usta, mobile vendor, knew no bounds—not for Tony, not for Queens' seniors.