"The first wave of the Stealth Mark Series is out. We've got two things we're checking off the list," Tony's voice boomed, echoing through the main command room speakers. "One: putting the Mark Series directly under a few select satellite formations from various nations, let's see how well that cloaking tech holds up in deep space. Two: if that goes off without a hitch, we're doing a moon landing."
Arthur sat quietly in a corner, nursing a lukewarm coffee and listening.
He wasn't worried. The Mark Series' stealth had been put through the wringer in every lab test imaginable. This was practically a dry run. The real objective, as always, was the second phase. They weren't just surveying the moon; they needed a dataset of the entire lunar surface with a level of precision that was frankly insane.
It was a huge undertaking, but it wouldn't risk a single human life, just the drones.
To be honest, Arthur hated the name "Stealth Mark Series." Once the briefing was wrapping up, he cleared his throat. Tony, always hyper-aware of his partner, crossed the room instantly.
Arthur pitched his thoughts. Tony listened, staying silent for a long moment, before a small, knowing smirk crossed his lips.
"You're looking for a name that shows off your best work, aren't you?" Tony asked.
Arthur considered it. "How about… Angels?"
"The Mark Series Angel Series?" Tony raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine surprise in his eyes. "Didn't expect something that normal to come out of your mouth. I'm almost disappointed, frankly."
"...Cut the nonsense, Stark."
Arthur was oddly distracted that day, a low buzz of unease running beneath his skin, as if something important was happening just outside his view. He gave his head a small shake, but Tony pressed on, his casual tone hardening slightly.
"There's something I've been wrestling with."
Arthur's attention snapped back.
"The Mark Series Angels can be perfectly remote-controlled by us, even on the moon," Tony explained. "But the minute their numbers scale up to what we actually need, we won't have enough operators to manage them all simultaneously."
He continued, tapping a stylus on a nearby holographic screen.
"I've been combining Sovereign tech with my own systems. I know I can build a long-range platform that gives the operator a fully synchronized environment, perfect sensory feedback for executing surgical-level precision operations. But that gives us two huge problems."
"Get to it."
"First one's simple: the Angels' strength is that they're small and multi-functional. For full environment sync, we'd have to fit a fully-processed human consciousness, or an equivalent, inside that chassis. It's nearly impossible, and they'd have to be massive, which defeats the point. So we keep them small and project the synchronization data remotely. Which leads to problem two."
Tony looked straight at Arthur, his gaze uncharacteristically heavy.
"We don't have enough people."
For an operation this sensitive, every single person involved had to be completely, 100% trustworthy. Loyalty and secrecy were the monumental weak points. The cruel, villainous option was a total lockdown, followed by eliminating all the workers afterward to maintain total silence. But they were the heroes. That was a line they wouldn't cross, it was too dark, too much like their enemies.
Arthur's fingers tapped a light rhythm on the tabletop. "You've been dancing around the issue for five minutes, Tony. What's your actual point?"
Tony let out a slow, steady breath.
"Artificial intelligence."
Arthur went silent.
The ghost of Ultron. The eternal, inevitable topic. The lesson was etched into their collective memory, immortalized on the screens of every news channel. Arthur couldn't shake the fear: if they rebooted a project like that, what horror would emerge this time?
"J.A.R.V.I.S. is too weak," Tony immediately countered, cutting off Arthur's spiraling thoughts. "He can't leave my side, and more importantly, he can't coordinate a massive fleet of Angels for simultaneous excavation and collection. The scale is just too big."
Arthur looked up at the main screen, watching the crisp video feed from one of the "Angels." After a long pause, he finally spoke.
"I want to be involved in the entire process. And if there is even a one-in-ten-million chance of something going wrong, we pull the plug. Immediately. I don't care how much time, money, or effort has been sunk. Think this through carefully, Tony. Don't trust your gut on this one. If you can't accept that condition, then it stops here. We can… we can just mine the moon slowly."
Tony's eyes flared with renewed focus. He nodded, once.
"I'll have your answer tomorrow."
The truth, though, was that both of them knew the decision was already made. Neither of them believed that last line, The moon can be mined slowly, not for a second. Tony knew Arthur better than anyone. There was a constant, powerful sense of urgency driving him. He was always in a hurry.
And that urgency was exactly why he would inevitably agree to the plan.
Arthur rubbed his temple lightly. "You know, it feels like… something is just missing from Earth lately."
"Missing? What, supervillains?" Tony replied, his serious façade dropping in favor of his usual playful sarcasm. "You should check in with the Spider-Kid. The poor guy is burning himself out. Every news outlet, every paper, it's all about the tight-suit-wearing menace! Seriously, what's with his obsession with skin-tight spandex?"
Arthur thought for a moment. "Maybe it shows off his figure better?"
Tony barked a laugh. "God, what figure? He's all elbows and knees! Still… speaking of his suit, I've actually come up with a few new ideas for upgrades. Want to hear them?"
Arthur shook his head and stood up. "You handle the toys here. I can't shake this feeling that something's off today. Everything feels wrong somehow."
"Nerves?"
"No… maybe early-onset midlife crisis."
"You're a bit late for that."
"Go screw yourself, Stark."
…
Meanwhile, at a sun-drenched café across town, Lily was growing increasingly uncomfortable beneath Natasha's intensely focused gaze. Their conversation had long since drifted away from serious topics like artwork and career opportunities and landed squarely in the middle of Lily's personal life.
Clearing her throat, Lily finally asked, "Ms. Beth… does your company usually get this involved in its employees' private relationships?"
If so, the question wasn't about whether they wanted her, but whether she wanted to work for them.