After taking care of the minor inconvenience that was Obadiah, Henry felt as if he had just completed a tedious final exam. Though the process was a bit boring, the sense of relief afterward was utterly refreshing.
He wasn't in a hurry to go home.
Are you kidding?
He could fly, he was bulletproof, and he was, literally, the Chosen One. Why rush home?
To face the cold parts in the lab and listen to that idiot Tony boast about his latest world-changing idea?
No, he wouldn't.
He only wanted to do one thing now: party hard.
So, over the next few hours, the skies over California gained a brazen black phantom. He treated the entire state like his private race track, like a sixteen-year-old who had just been given the keys to a Ferrari.
He flew from Los Angeles to San Francisco, racing the clouds over the Golden Gate Bridge. He dove down from the Hollywood hills, almost scraping the giant white letters, startling several tourists taking photos who thought they saw a UFO.
He even flew east to Las Vegas, circling over the dazzling casinos, contemplating whether to go down and play a few rounds, using his heightened senses to listen for which slot machine was about to hit the jackpot.
"Seriously, Jarvis, this feels amazing!" Henry traced an arc in the air.
"How did I ever think flying in a private jet was a treat? Compared to this, that's like bumping around in a tractor on a field path. The only drawback is that there's no flight attendant to serve champagne."
"Sir, I must remind you that you have illegally flown over military restricted airspace four times in a row."
Jarvis's gentle voice sounded in his comms channel.
"NORAD radar has tracked your flight path. Although they cannot identify your identity yet, they have scrambled two F-22 Raptor fighter jets for interception. Contact is expected in two minutes and fifteen seconds."
"F-22? Oh, those are nice." Henry wasn't nervous at all; he was even more excited.
"Perfect. Let's see whose Raptor is faster, theirs or mine. Jarvis, play some fitting music for me—'Highway to Hell!'"
The roaring rock music blasted in his ears. Henry suddenly accelerated, leaving a spectacular sonic boom cloud in the air, easily outrunning the two aggressively approaching fighter jets. He only left a rapidly disappearing signal trail on their radar screens.
He was like a wild child who had broken free of all shackles, spending his energy freely in the sky. He was having a blast until Tony's call came through.
"Sir, it's a call from Mr. Tony."
"Patch him through." Henry leveled off and hovered stably in the clouds after a beautiful roll.
"Let me guess, my dear brother. Are you calling to tell me how the retirement party went, or to complain that I stole your spotlight again?"
Tony's teasing voice came through the phone, mixed with the sound of loud music and women's laughter in the background.
"Hey, little lunatic, are you done playing? Jarvis already sent me the full video of your illegal drag racing in California. Good job; at least you didn't crash into anything. By the way, I've saved the part where you used supersonic speed to draw eyebrows on the F-22. I'm about to upload it to YouTube. I already have the title: My Brother is a Maniac."
Henry pouted.
"Tell me, what's up? If you want me to buy beer and chips from the supermarket, I advise you to give up that idea. I charge by the second now. My appearance fee is more expensive than all your so-called Hollywood friends combined."
"Of course not." Tony chuckled.
"I just wanted to inform you that the party we talked about has started. It's at another villa on Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles, you know, the one with the infinity pool and two helipads. We've got the best DJ, the hottest girls, and endless champagne."
He paused, his voice gaining a hint of excitement: "Also, Jarvis has already cracked a part of the serum you mentioned. The enhanced Super-Soldier Serum tailored for me is almost ready. Your valuable experience as the veteran test subject is crucial reference data. So, what are you doing? Get your butt over here, or I can't guarantee there'll be a single half-bottle of Dom Pérignon left."
"A party? Now?" Henry raised an eyebrow.
"I thought we should at least have another press conference or talk to those old fogeys on Capitol Hill and accept the public's heroic cheers."
"Oh, come on, let Pepper handle that boring stuff," Tony said dismissively.
"We're Starks; we only enjoy the fruits of victory. It's time to celebrate. Hurry up, my Victoria's Secret Angels are waiting to meet you, the mysterious Black Knight!"
"Alright, alright, you convinced me." Henry sighed.
"Tell them to wash their butts and wait. I'm on my way back."
The call ended.
"Time to go home, Jarvis," Henry said to the empty air.
He stopped the fancy aerial maneuvers, set his course, and pushed his speed to the limit. Then, his entire body transformed into a black bolt of lightning, streaking through the night sky toward the world that belonged to the Starks.
...
Los Angeles, Sunset Boulevard, mid-mountain.
A sprawling, brightly lit modern villa was now the site of a raging party. Deafening electronic music pumped out from every corner of the villa, almost lifting the roof off the entire mountaintop.
The huge swimming pool was packed with hot girls in bikinis, and colourful neon lights flashed across the water. This was the Stark world—a paradise filled with money, booze, beautiful women, and cutting-edge technology.
Just as the party atmosphere reached its peak, a sonic boom, completely out of sync with the electronic music, abruptly came from the night sky. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up in confusion at the deep night sky. The music had also stopped at some point.
Under everyone's gaze, a black figure slowly descended like a deity from the heavens. He was clad in a pure black, high-tech battlesuit, and a matching black cape silently billowed in the night wind behind him. The bright moonlight shone on him, giving him a silver outline, making him look mysterious, powerful, and overwhelmingly handsome.
The entire party instantly fell silent. Everyone held their breath, staring dumbfounded at a scene that felt like it was lifted straight out of a sci-fi movie.
"Whoa."
Tony Stark, with an arm around a girl on each side, stood at the edge of the pool. He looked at Henry slowly descending, a hint of calculated surprise and a strong dose of showing off on his face. He smirked triumphantly at the two blonde bombshells next to him, who were already staring blankly, and said arrogantly:
"Look, girls, look who decided to show up. Allow me to formally introduce my younger brother, Henry Stark, who likes to fly around and is always late. And that... well, that cool-looking black Armor of his. I have to say, I'm not a fan of this landing pose. It's too slow, no impact at all. Next time, I'll teach you. You should smash down from the sky; that's much more explosive."
His words elicited a chorus of laughter from the two girls next to him, successfully breaking the silence.
Henry landed smoothly on the platform in the center of the pool. He looked around at the heated stares directed at him. Then, he flashed a smile of enjoyment. He liked this feeling—the feeling of being the center of the world.
"Jarvis, disrobe," he said softly.
"Affirmative, Sir."
With a crisp clatter, the pure black Armor on his body began to automatically disassemble, fold, and retract. Arms, chest plate, leg Armor...
All the components separated precisely as if they were alive, quickly combining into a black metal block the size of a briefcase. The entire process was seamless, full of astonishing technological flair, again causing the surrounding crowd to gasp in awe.
Henry stepped out of the Armor, wearing a well-tailored black casual suit that perfectly highlighted his model-like physique.