Just then, a man in an immaculately tailored suit, holding two glasses of champagne, walked over with a beaming smile. His movements were elegant, his grin confident—like a thirty-something man-child brimming with smugness.
He was the model of a successful man, the dream partner in women's eyes. But he carried a secret. A secret that often left him crying in the dead of night, sighing in the brightness of day.
The secret was simple: he didn't have Tony Stark's destiny, only his affliction. No matter what he did, people saw him only as a cheap imitation—a clown mimicking Tony Stark.
He hated it. It burned him up inside.
When Tony shut down Stark Industries' weapons division, he laughed, rewarding himself with a vacation on Loli Island.
Now, seeing Tony in person, his heart stirred—free, restless. Oh yes, the itch to mock and taunt was back.
"Tony! My dear friend!" he called loudly, his voice booming across half the pit lane.
"I just heard you'll be personally taking the wheel today—that's absolutely thrilling! I can't wait to see you show off your brilliance on the track!"
Tony glanced at him, rolled his eyes, and forced a polite smile.
Fine. Batman had his no-kill rule. Iron Man didn't. And clowns? They'd always be clowns.
"Oh, Justin Hammer," Tony said flatly.
"What are you doing here? I thought someone of your caliber preferred the smell of smoke and explosions."
"I'm a pacifist now, Tony." Justin Hammer handed him a glass of champagne with feigned sincerity.
"Ever since you announced shutting down weapons production, I've been deeply inspired. I too decided to dedicate myself to world peace." He even flashed a friendly smile at a cameraman nearby.
Yes, yes, film away! He'd already thought up the headline:
"Justin Hammer and Tony Stark in a Friendly Chat—Close as Brothers."
A female reporter who'd been waiting for her chance slipped in, thrusting a microphone forward.
"Mr. Stark! I'm Allie, the new reporter from Vanity Fair," she said with a smile.
"We all know that you and Mr. Hammer have long been competitors in the arms industry. Now that you've both shifted toward peace initiatives, does this mean you might collaborate in the future?"
Tony chuckled. He'd seen plenty of clowns, but rarely one so eager to stick their face out to be slapped.
"Collaboration?" He sneered, glanced at Hammer's eager expression, and delivered his line without mercy.
"I might consider working with my robotic vacuum cleaner, but I'd never work with him. You know I've never had much fondness for knockoff products that steal my ideas and still manage to perform terribly."
Hammer's grin froze on his face.
"But I do admire Mr. Hammer's courage," Tony added, patting his shoulder.
"Not everyone has the guts to plagiarize me right to my face."
"Then, Mr. Stark—" Allie pressed on quickly, unwilling to let go.
"Everyone knows you and your brother, Henry Stark, are praised by the public as Iron Man and Superman. But ever since the press conference, Superman hasn't appeared in public again. Could you tell us where he is? Will he be coming back?"
The question instantly drew everyone's attention.
Tony's smile faded a little.
Facing the camera, he paused for a moment before answering, half-joking but half-serious.
"My dear brother is currently working on some very important scientific research. You know, he needs a bit of private space to reflect on life and philosophy. As for when he'll return…"
He paused, then smiled faintly at the lens.
"Of course he'll be back—the moment his unreliable older brother is about to set the world on fire again."
With that, he ignored the stunned looks around him. Leaping up from his lounge chair to the gasps of the two women at his side, he strolled over to his racing gear.
He stripped off the top half of his racing suit, revealing a black T-shirt underneath.
His chest looked smooth, flat, and perfectly healthy.
Only he knew that beneath the shirt, a nanotech-powered miniaturized arc reactor lay quietly against his chest. Unlike the old model embedded in his flesh, this one simply adhered seamlessly to the skin.
On the surface, it looked like nothing more than a sticker.
Yes, his new armor drew its power from this.
Through constant innovation, the reactor had been miniaturized further and further, no longer a bulky machine.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen." Tony flashed his trademark confident smile at the onlookers.
"The boring waiting is over. Now it's time for the real Stark show."
"I'll get out there myself and show those pedal-pushers what true harmony between man and machine really means."
With long, confident strides, he made his way to the scarlet Formula 1 car on the track.
Pepper watched his back, pressing her palm helplessly to her forehead.
She knew she'd lost again to this reckless bastard.
Maybe only Henry could stop him from doing dangerous things.
Then again, Henry might just drag him into even worse ones.
"Hey! Did you hear? Tony Stark's going to race himself!"
"What?! For real?! That playboy can actually drive?!"
"Of course it's real! I just saw him walk into the pit in a racing suit!"
The news detonated like a bomb, sending a ripple of excitement through the crowd.
Countless spectators rose from their seats, craning their necks for a glimpse of Iron Man's glory.
On the track, Tony was already seated in the cockpit.
He gripped the steering wheel, feeling the soft vibrations of the engine, his eyes carrying a hint of nostalgia.
He remembered the younger version of himself, just as fiery, just as unrestrained, on the racetrack years ago.
"Alright, old friend," he murmured, patting the wheel.
"Let's relive the good old days."
The words had barely left his mouth before he slammed the accelerator.
VROOOOM!!!
With a deafening roar, the crimson F1 car shot forward like an arrow, thundering onto the track to the astonished cries of the crowd!