An hour later, at the Stark Industries press conference, lights rained down like an unending storm, illuminating the hall as bright as day.
Media from around the world gathered like sharks smelling blood, eager to hear what Tony Stark and Henry Stark—the two brothers missing for days—would say.
Tony and Henry walked onto the stage side by side.
Tony wore a neat Armani suit and his hair was carefully styled, but the fatigue etched between his brows couldn't be concealed by any expensive cosmetic.
Henry wore a black combat suit under his armor but had removed his cape. The close-fitting suit perfectly outlined his exaggerated muscular frame, making him look like a Superman straight out of a sci-fi movie.
As soon as the brothers appeared, the atmosphere ignited instantly.
"Mr. Stark! Welcome back! What happened to you during your disappearance?"
"Mr. Henry! Rumors say you were kidnapped by terrorists. Is that true?"
"Tony! You look so thin. Was the food in Afghanistan really that bad?"
Tony stepped to the podium confidently, facing the barrage of cameras and noisy questions without a hint of nervousness. Instead, he wore a look of enjoyment.
He loved being the center of attention, whether at a gala or a press conference.
Glancing at the standard speech prepared by PR, he chuckled and casually threw the thick stack of manuscript aside, much to everyone's surprise.
Pepper, watching from the audience, felt her heart rise to her throat. She knew Tony was about to do something unconventional.
Tony scanned the silent crowd, then leaned toward the microphone and cleared his throat.
"Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow Americans, and fans watching online," he began with a lazy, arrogant tone.
"I know you all have questions. For starters, did I get my sun-kissed tan in Hawaii? No—I prefer Bali. And did Afghanistan inspire new creativity? Yes, it did."
His eyes darkened and the smile dropped from his face.
"There, I saw with my own eyes the weapons I created—their use and victims. I saw the legacy I spent half a lifetime building, founded on the blood and bones of countless innocents."
He paused and silence fell over the hall. Everyone was stunned by the gravity of his words.
"So, upon returning, I made a decision." His head rose, eyes resolute.
"Effective immediately, Stark Industries will permanently shut down its weapons manufacturing division."
The sentence was a bombshell, exploding the press conference into chaos.
Reporters pushed desperately forward, microphones thrust toward Tony, shouting questions.
Among the Stark Industries directors, faces were stunned. Obadiah's expression was the ugliest—his bald head slicked with cold sweat.
Damn Tony! What's gotten into him?
Amidst the uproar, Henry approached Tony, putting a familiar arm around his shoulders and added into a microphone relaxedly:
"Yeah, what my brother said—we're quitting.
We've been pondering what kind of legacy Stark Industries should leave. We realized fireworks that kill are outdated and boring. Instead, we're pivoting to high-end appliances—like toasters that toast perfectly at Mach 3 speed. Much cooler than missiles, right?"
His words briefly paused the chaos.
Everyone stared at the brothers, thinking them mad.
A sharp reporter snapped, "Mr. Stark! Mr. Henry! Not long ago, you appeared in downtown Los Angeles in two sets of combat armor, causing a sensation. Is this Stark's latest weapon? Does it contradict your decision to close the weapons division?"
"Oh, good question!" Tony perked up immediately.
"That's exactly it! But that's not a weapon! Weapon? Please, too crude, too last century. We're pacifists."
Reporters inwardly scoffed.
Pacifists? The world's largest arms dealer calling himself that?
"As for those suits," Tony deliberately dragged his words with a mysterious smile,
"Consider them our company's newest multifunctional, intelligent auxiliary tools."
"That's right," Henry chimed in,
"Their main function? Efficient express delivery. Picture ordering pizza online, and five minutes later, a man in stylish armor flies at supersonic speed to deliver piping hot pizza. Great experience, right?
Though, the pizza might turn doughy from overload—we're still ironing out the kinks."
The brothers' casual tone downplayed the revolutionary armor sets that could change the military world.
Obadiah could no longer contain himself.
He jumped up, forcing grief and concern onto his face.
"Everyone! Please calm down! Tony has suffered trauma; his remarks are PTSD ramblings. Don't take them seriously. Our board will discuss future direction carefully."
Pepper was stunned, watching the farce unfold.
She had no idea what had transpired in the past hour.
Tony and Henry, watching the flustered Obadiah, exchanged mocking looks.
Then, amidst the chaos, they turned leisurely and walked offstage.