The living room on the second floor of the villa
Tony and Henry stood side by side in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling window, watching the red-and-gold armor descend gracefully. It then automatically disassembled and stored itself, the entire process exuding industrial elegance.
"I have to say, this chauffeur service is pretty thoughtful," Henry said, swirling the ice in his half-finished whiskey, a teasing smile on his lips.
"Just hope the passenger experience is up to par. Do you think he'd leave a one-star review, citing rude service and attempted murder mid-flight?"
"Come on," Tony rolled his eyes and walked over to Henry, pouring himself a drink. "Passenger? That's barely a bag of trash needing disposal—talking trash, sure, but trash nonetheless. And J.A.R.V.I.S.'s service is excellent. He wouldn't casually wish you and your ancestors ill while tossing you out."
"That's because he's an emotionless old machine. Doesn't appreciate the art of language," Henry said with a smirk.
"But speaking of which, our security system clearly needs an upgrade. Tony, have you considered that our house is basically a public restroom? Anyone can just stroll in or out, no gatekeeper in sight."
Tony's expression darkened. He put down his glass, frowning. "Yeah, I was wondering the same thing. How did that guy even get in? J.A.R.V.I.S., were you napping? Or distracted flirting with some virtual idol from Japan?"
"Apologies, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice echoed innocently through the hall. "According to my monitoring records, the living room showed no signs of life before Mr. Fury appeared. My sensors detected no form of physical intrusion."
"Then it's invisible tech," Tony said, stroking his chin, his eyes lighting up with excitement at unknown technology. "Something that can mask all conventional detection signals. Interesting. I guess it's time for an upgrade, J.A.R.V.I.S.—install high-tech radar and anti-photon detectors. Next time someone in a trench coat and an eyepatch, looking like a B-grade detective novel villain, sneaks in, I want you to laser them into sashimi immediately."
"I approve," Henry nodded, then turned his discerning gaze to Tony.
"But, dear brother, I'm more curious about something else. You seemed completely unaware of that black-clad intruder and his so-called organization just now. Are you sure, during all this time, you haven't bothered to check what's happening in the world besides banging out tin and attending parties?"
"Why would I?" Tony replied indignantly, as if the world's ignorance were its fault, not his. "My time is precious—every second is worth a fortune. I need to use it creating world-changing tech, attending economy-boosting parties, dating inspiring women—not memorizing long, tongue-twisting department names that sound like tax agency subsidiaries."
"So you really don't know?" Henry said in disbelief, feeling his blood pressure spike. "Tony, sometimes I wonder if your brain stores anything besides model numbers and car specs. That supposedly brilliant brain of yours—does it even have more than 256K of memory?"
"Hey! My brain is the most valuable asset on this planet!" Tony snapped back, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
"And why should I remember everything? I only need the important stuff. Like that model last week—Candice, her measurements were—"
"Shut up!" Henry interrupted, nearly seeing red. "You single-celled organism ruled by hormones! Don't you remember a few months ago, out of boredom, we hacked into all North American government databases, including that so-called National Strategic Defense and Logistics Bureau? You even joked that their firewall was weaker than a wet tissue, and the files were less interesting than your adult magazines!"
Tony paused, searching his vast memory. After several seconds, realization dawned.
"Oh! That thing?" he said with a shrug. "A boring Tuesday afternoon, right? Honestly, trivial stuff like that is gone from my memory by the next day. Just like I never keep track of how many models I've dated—it's irrelevant."
Henry took a deep breath. Being brothers with Tony Stark was definitely a karmic punishment.
"J.A.R.V.I.S.," he said wearily. "Pull up all the non-essential department data and give my brother, whose brain only stores girls and parties, a proper lesson."
"Yes, sir."
A moment later, a massive holographic screen unfolded in the center of the living room. Yellowed black-and-white photos full of historical charm, along with files marked top secret, began scrolling across it.
"The Strategic Scientific Corps, established during World War II, dedicated to combating Nazi Hydra forces…"
At first, Tony crossed his arms, unimpressed. But as he saw familiar faces on the screen, his expression froze.
Howard Stark, Peggy Carter, Abraham Erskine…
His father, his nominal aunt, and the genius scientist who created Captain America.
"After the war, the Strategic Scientific Corps reorganized, merging with several other departments, forming the National Strategic Defense and Logistics Bureau, dedicated to addressing global threats and maintaining world peace and security."
On the screen, a photo showed Howard and Peggy standing side by side, behind them the emblem of an eagle clutching a shield.
Tony's usual cynicism vanished. He walked slowly toward the screen, reaching out as if to touch his father's young, handsome face.
"Old man… and Aunt Peggy," he whispered, his voice filled with shock, confusion, and a subtle sense of loss.
"They founded this organization? Why did no one ever tell me?"
"Maybe because back then you were still in diapers, more concerned with raiding the candy jar," Henry said, patting his shoulder. His tone was less sharp, more comforting.
"And that's not even the most exciting part," he continued.
He pointed to another man on the screen, wearing a stars-and-stripes uniform and holding a round shield.
"The first and most successful project of this organization was the Super Soldier Program, and their ace agent was none other than Captain America, Steve Rogers. A living legend, frozen for seventy years."
Tony looked at the blonde, blue-eyed man, righteous and stern, then at his father, full of ambition. He was silent for a long moment.
He had thought he knew his father—but now he realized he had barely seen the surface.
Henry sighed internally. Tony might not have shown growth after returning from Afghanistan, but Henry knew better. He remembered every incident, every life-threatening event. The kidnapping, saving Ethan, studying the serum—Tony had remembered all along.
In the past, Henry telling Tony about the super soldier serum would have meant nothing; Tony would have scoffed, claiming the great Tony Stark didn't need any muscle-building drinks.
Now, he seemed… changed. Not fully, but enough. With his little superbrother around, Tony's sense of security had skyrocketed. No over-anxiousness whatsoever.
"Of course, the so-called Strategic Scientific Corps also did one incredibly stupid thing," Henry said with a mocking grin, sipping his drink.
"They recruited many surrendered German scientists, the so-called 'Paperclip Project,' aiming to counter the Soviets—understandable. But among these scientists was none other than Red Skull's ugly chief scientist, Arnim Zola."
"So?" Tony frowned, sensing something was off.
"So?" Henry laughed exaggeratedly.
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