An hour later, backstage at the press conference. The atmosphere in the lounge was tense—or rather, only Pepper was tense. Henry and Tony were standing in front of the mirror, casually adjusting their suits, as if they were attending a boring dinner party instead of a press conference that would determine the company's future.
Pepper, like a worried wife, was trying to straighten Tony's perpetually crooked tie while nagging him incessantly.
"Listen, Tony, you must stick to the script when you go on stage later! It already has pre-written answers for all the tricky questions that might come up! All you have to do is read it! Please, please do not improvise! Do you hear me?!"
"This is the 16th time! I know already," Tony waved his hand helplessly, but still let Pepper fuss over him.
"Little Pepper, you're more nagging than my mother. Don't worry, I'm a genius; dealing with a few reporters is easy. They should feel honored to have the chance to see me in person."
As he spoke, he chatted with Henry, completely ignoring Pepper's words.
"Hey, Henry, how about we grab cheeseburgers after this? I swear I can eat two right now!"
"Two? That's too little," Henry was admiring his ridiculously handsome face in the mirror. Without looking back, he replied, "I'm eating at least four! Double cheese and bacon! And it has to be from that corner store; their patties are the juiciest."
Pepper looked at the two oblivious men, feeling her blood pressure spike again. The whole world was waiting for their explanation, and all they could talk about was what to eat for dinner.
Natasha stood quietly on the side, like a true assistant, not saying a word, only observing everything with her eyes and committing every detail to memory.
Finally, it was time to go on stage. A staff member opened the door leading to the stage, and the outside instantly erupted in a storm of flashing lights and camera clicks. Tony and Henry walked onto the podium through a flash of lights. The dazzling light didn't make them squint, and they quickly adapted, even starting to enjoy the attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow Americans, and my fans watching the live broadcast and preparing to buy my company's stock," Tony started with his familiar arrogant tone.
"I know you have many questions, and I know your questions must be very boring, but it's alright. Since I'm in a good mood today due to your enthusiasm, I can reluctantly answer a few."
The reporters below burst into a friendly chuckle, and the atmosphere was instantly set. A blonde reporter, Christine, who had previously had a one-night stand with Tony, immediately seized the opportunity and stood up first.
"Mr. Stark!" Her voice was clear.
"Was your previous announcement to permanently close Stark Industries' weapons manufacturing division too rash? Do you realize the huge impact that decision will have on US national defense and Stark Industries' stock price?"
"Rash?" Tony scoffed, his expression implying, Are you telling me how to run my business? Come on, with so many operating divisions in their company, will it really cause a huge drop?
"Miss, I must correct you. Any decision I make is much more thoroughly considered than the headline for your next Vanity Fair cover. As for the impact? Of course, there's an impact. US national defense will become more eco-friendly due to the lack of Stark Industries' weapons. And our stock price has always been stable, and I believe it will soon soar to a new high thanks to the new energy project we are about to launch, which will change the world. So, next question."
His answer was impeccable, confident, and utterly dominant.
Another reporter immediately stood up.
"Mr. Henry! Regarding the battle in New York, videos show that you appear to possess superhuman strength and can even fly. Are you a metahuman? Or are you, like your brother, wearing some kind of high-tech Armor?"
Henry leaned against the podium. Hearing this, he picked up the microphone and looked at the person as if they were an idiot.
"Metahuman? Oh, please, that word is so discriminatory. I prefer to call myself a 'Genetically Advantageous Individual.' As for the Armor? Yes, that was Armor, but it was just to shield myself from the sun. You know, the sun in California is too strong; I was afraid it would darken my handsome face. As for flying..."
He paused, then spoke seriously but falsely.
"That's actually a personal transportation technology recently developed by Stark Industries, primarily used to solve urban traffic congestion. Imagine never having to be stuck in traffic on your way to work; you can just fly over it. Of course, the prerequisite is that you can afford our flying backpack and have a pilot's license."
His words elicited a round of laughter from the audience, successfully turning a serious question into a joke.
Just then, the female reporter from the Daily Bugle, who looked particularly aggressive, stood up again. This time, her question was more direct and pointed.
"Mr. Stark! Mr. Henry!" she shouted, her voice sharp.
"Please stop evading the question! Regarding the recent battle, the public has already spontaneously given you two nicknames! They call Mr. Tony 'Iron Man' and Mr. Henry 'Superman'! What is your opinion on these titles? Do you accept them?!"
The entire hall instantly fell silent. All eyes focused on Tony and Henry. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation. This was the unavoidable question.
The smile on Tony's face gradually disappeared. He glanced at Pepper, who was looking at him anxiously, and then at Henry, who looked completely unconcerned. He paused, then picked up the microphone.
"Iron Man? Superman?" he scoffed, his tone dismissive.
"What era are we in? Using such old-fashioned names? Seriously, can't you be a little more imaginative? I'm just an ordinary businessman who loves peace and occasionally saves the world. As for this 'Iron Man' you speak of, that's actually my bodyguard, a codename, like 007. He's responsible for my safety and helps me handle minor inconveniences that I'd rather not deal with myself."
The reporters below looked disappointed. This answer was too official and boring. They were not satisfied; they wanted something more explosive.
But just then, Tony's gaze suddenly became hesitant. He seemed to be steeling himself. He looked at the countless cameras below, at the myriad eyes watching him through the lenses. He thought of the cold cave in Afghanistan, of Ethan, of Obadiah's fake face, and of everything Henry had done for him.
He took a deep breath, then slowly raised his head. He looked into the camera and said, word for word.
"Alright, I'll come clean."
"To hell with being a businessman."
"I am Iron Man!"
"BOOM!!!"
The entire press conference instantly exploded! The reporters went mad. They surged towards the podium like a tide, hurling countless questions at Tony!
"Mr. Stark! Are you admitting that you are the mysterious armored man?!"
"Why are you doing this?! Aren't you afraid of causing panic in the government?!"
Amidst the chaos, Henry slowly picked up the other microphone, a look of helpless resignation on his face. The classic scene has arrived after all! One sentence to launch an era!
He looked at the frantic crowd below, shrugging helplessly.
"Alright, you got us," he said.
"I am Superman."