A little over a week later.
Washington D.C., Capitol Hill.
Tony Stark's high-profile antics at the Monaco racetrack had finally set America's nerves on edge.
No one could tolerate a single individual possessing such overwhelming power—a walking, unrestrained weapon of mass destruction—freely performing personal heroics on the global stage.
After countless closed-door meetings and heated debates, the Senate Armed Services Committee convened a mandatory hearing regarding the ownership and control of Iron Man's armor. The stage was set.
Outside the Capitol, journalists and fans from around the world had packed the streets.
"Tony! We love you!"
"Iron Man! You're a hero!"
"Mr. Stark! Over here!"
"Superman! We want to see Superman!"
"I'm giving Superman a high five!"
Amidst the deafening cheers and flashing cameras, an Audi R8 glided to a stop at the front.
The scissor doors swung open, and Tony emerged in a custom-tailored suit, sunglasses in place, striding like it was his own red carpet. He didn't so much as flinch.
Removing his sunglasses, he waved at the crowd, even taking a notebook from a young fan to autograph with effortless charm.
"Mr. Stark!"
A sharp, professional-looking female reporter fought her way to the front, pressing a microphone toward him.
"What would you like to say about this hearing? Do you think the government has the right to seize your private property?"
"Private property?" Tony raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips.
"My dear, beautiful lady, you've got it all wrong. That's not property… that's me. Are you suggesting the government has the right to take me as well? Honestly, I wouldn't mind—but I worry the old folks on Capitol Hill couldn't afford my appearance fee."
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
Just then, a sharply dressed man in an Air Force colonel uniform appeared from the throng. His expression was stern but weary—James Rhodes.
"Tony," Rhodes said as he approached, lowering his voice.
"Can you act serious for once? This isn't one of your product launches."
"Oh? Look who it is," Tony replied, grinning.
"Colonel Rhodes, coming to serve tea to the senators? Or are you here as the military liaison to kindly persuade me to surrender?"
"I'm here to warn you not to screw this up," Rhodes said, voice firm.
"Senator Stern is dead set on having your armor handed over. Be prepared."
"Be prepared?" Tony chuckled, clapping Rhodes on the shoulder as he walked toward the building, casual as ever.
"Prepare… to enjoy watching those old farts turn red in the face, stammering in jealousy at my genius and wealth? Honestly, Rhodes, I might need to bring popcorn."
Rhodes could only sigh at his audacious confidence.
Inside the hearing hall, decorum and solemnity reigned. Seats were full, committee members rigid, their faces the picture of a funeral procession. Tony, by contrast, lounged in the witness chair, legs crossed, exuding complete nonchalance—as if he were attending a dull afternoon tea.
Meanwhile, hundreds of kilometers above Earth, in near-Earth orbit, Henry Stark floated in the cold void of space.
For nearly a month, he had absorbed sunlight continuously, his body reaching a critical saturation point. Every cell radiated with immense, terrifying energy.
Then, abruptly, after almost a month with eyes shut, he opened them.
What kind of eyes were these?
Deep, calm, yet harboring a terrifying, controlled power. No grogginess, no hesitation—just perfect clarity and absolute command.
"J.A.R.V.I.S.," he said, voice cutting through the emptiness, carried by his biofield.
"Always, sir," the AI replied.
"Status report. How long have I been… asleep?"
"Approximately three weeks, four days, thirteen hours, and twenty-seven minutes, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied precisely.
"Energy assessment."
"Sir, remote life-sign monitoring indicates your physical capacity has increased at least dozens of times compared to pre-departure. Your cellular energy reserves have reached a level beyond current data models. Theoretically, you could withstand a small nuclear blast head-on, unharmed."
"Is that so?" Henry clenched his fists, feeling the roaring power surging through his body.
He could sense the near-overflowing energy in every fiber of his being, the awakening of new abilities—his vision sharpening, his perception heightened—but he refrained from testing them.
He also sensed an impending evolution, like a cup filled to the brim, leaving only a trickle of space for more. Pure energy accumulation was approaching diminishing returns. He needed transformation—but that would take years of solar absorption he didn't have.
Pushing these thoughts aside, he turned his attention elsewhere.
"My unreliable brother… what trouble has he stirred this time?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.
"Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. responded, projecting a real-time feed. "Mr. Tony Stark is currently in Washington for a hearing convened by the Senate Armed Services Committee."
The holographic display revealed Tony, lounging with his legs crossed, utterly unbothered.
Henry paused for a moment, then a cold, lethal smirk spread across his face.
"A hearing?" he scoffed, his voice brimming with disdain.
"A bunch of bureaucrats sipping taxpayers' coffee, trying to judge a Stark? Have the ruins of New York not taught them humility? Or do they just think their necks are tougher than terrorists'?"
He shook his head, the faintest trace of amusement in his voice.
"Seems my little sunbathing session went on a bit too long… long enough to make some fools forget what true respect feels like."
"J.A.R.V.I.S."
"Yes, sir?"
"Tell those people sitting on Capitol Hill to get ready. Superman… is coming back."
"I will show them firsthand what an uncontrollable weapon of mass destruction truly looks like."
Without another hesitation, he transformed into a dark streak, hurtling toward the blue planet below.
Inside the atmosphere, he had already reached several hundred Mach, controlled by his biofield to prevent friction from tearing him apart. A blazing trail of fire stretched out behind him, marking his terrifying descent.
***
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