Tony's eyes narrowed at Senator Stern, the glint of defiance unmistakable. "Listen, Senator, I'm not an expert when it comes to legislative coercion or political grandstanding..."
"A sales expert? Of course not, you're a Senator, alright?" Tony quipped, the dismissive retort drawing muffled laughter from the press and staff in the room.
Tony glanced at Pepper, offering her a look that was meant to be conspiratorial and good-humored, but she merely shook her head, her expression tight and unsmiling. She knew this was a dangerous game.
"I may not be a weapons expert, Mr. Stark, but we've brought in an esteemed colleague who is," the Senator on the stage announced, his voice regaining its forced composure. "He is the Department of Defense's main arms supplier since your company abandoned its patriotic duties. I invite Mr. Justin Hammer to the stand."
Tony perked up, a flicker of genuine interest and professional disdain crossing his face when he heard the name.
"I saw Mr. Hammer walk in," Tony drawled, leaning back and scanning the room. "But I definitely didn't see the 'weapons expert' you mentioned."
Since Stark Industries had abruptly announced the closure of its weapons manufacturing division, Hammer Industries, run by the perpetually insecure Justin Hammer, had rushed in to gobble up all the Department of Defense's lucrative contracts.
Tony Stark had always looked down on Hammer Industries' products, viewing them as overpriced, poorly engineered contraptions that merely threw money at problems, producing idiotic and unreliable results.
Justin Hammer, in contrast to Tony's effortless swagger, was visibly nervous but tried to compensate with an aggressive, practiced public speaking routine.
"Perhaps I am not the 'expert' that Mr. Stark is referring to, Senator, but do you know who the real expert is, Mr. Stark?" Hammer said, microphone in hand, his tone shifting to reverence as he guided everyone's gaze toward Tony. "Your father, Howard Stark! He is not only our patriarch, but he is the father of our entire modern military industry! But please understand, Mr. Stark," Hammer insisted, pointing a finger at Tony, "Howard was not a flower boy; he was a lion, ready to defend his country!"
Hammer successfully controlled the pace of his speech, directing the narrative entirely toward Tony's alleged irresponsibility.
"We all know why we're here, folks. For the past six months, Tony Stark has forged a sharp, invaluable sword, but he insists on telling the government it's just a decorative shield," Hammer argued passionately.
"He wants us to trust him, to hide behind him while he's flying around. I really wish I felt safe. I really wish I could leave the house without double-locking the door, thinking one playboy genius has everything covered, but this isn't some fantasy story, Mr. Stark. This isn't Canada."
Hammer finished with a flourish. "We live in a dangerous world, full of dangers that Mr. Stark, in his gilded cage, may not be able to fully foresee. Thank you."
"Well said, Mr. Hammer." The Senator, basking in the favorable testimony, was quite satisfied with Justin's calculated answer. "Now we would like to invite Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes to the stand, please."
"Rhodes?" Tony whispered, leaning forward in surprise. He could hardly believe that his best friend, Rhodes, had been coerced into participating in this politically motivated meeting aimed directly at stripping his intellectual property.
Rhodes walked up, looking acutely uncomfortable. Tony moved to greet him, speaking in a low, friendly tone. "Brother, I didn't expect you to make a trip out here for this circus."
"It's me, T. I'm here. Just accept the facts and let's get this over with," Rhodes muttered back tightly, painfully aware of the countless clicking cameras around them.
"I just wanted to say that—"
"Stop talking, Tony," Rhodes cut him off, his voice carrying a weary finality.
"Okay, okay," Tony relented, sitting back down, genuinely dejected that his friend was forced into this position. "I won't say anything more."
"Lieutenant Colonel, if you would, please read paragraph 4 on page 57 of your classified report," Senator Stern ordered.
"Senator, I think you should know that simply reading a single, isolated paragraph does not accurately represent the complete findings of my entire military report," Rhodes said, struggling to keep the reluctance out of his voice.
"Please read it aloud, Lieutenant Colonel. I understand your reservations, thank you," the Senator said with a tight, triumphant smile, clearly believing he had the upper hand by only presenting the negative soundbites.
As a soldier, however, Rhodes could not openly disobey his superior's order.
"Because Iron Man operates completely outside of any established military organization or chain of command, he possesses significant potential security risks and introduces an unstable element into global conflict scenarios," Rhodes recited, his voice flat.
Rhodes had just delivered a key point criticizing Iron Man, but when he was about to deliver his final, favorable conclusion that argued for cooperation not confiscation, he was abruptly interrupted by the Senator and not allowed to finish.
Meanwhile, the Senator requested the release of some video footage from the confidential materials provided by Rhodes' division.
On the large screen in the conference hall, grainy images taken by military reconnaissance satellites appeared. "Intelligence indicates that the devices shown in these images are, in fact, confirmed counterfeit versions of Mr. Stark's Iron Man armor," the Senator announced with an air of profound national security concern. "This has been confirmed by our analysts..."
Tony, however, was already ahead of them. He was surprised to learn that knock-offs were already in circulation, but he had a database they couldn't touch. He pulled out his fully transparent, touchscreen miniature computer—a technological marvel that could fit into a shirt pocket.
He started furiously searching for related videos using his database and cross-referencing global satellite imagery. Within thirty seconds, he had the relevant data.
He pointed the transparent screen directly at the Senator's massive electronic display and said, loudly enough for the microphones to catch, "Wait just a second, there's something better here. Oh, I'm just so amazing, I think I've accidentally taken control of your screen, Senator."
Several blocks of black code instantly appeared on the electronic screen, overwriting the Senator's presentation as Tony's device rapidly hacked into the network.
Tony tapped twice on his small transparent screen. "I need to be transparent, Senator. It's time to make all of this transparent for the American people."
"What did he just do?" The Senator, who had been all smiles moments ago, sat up, his face flushed and somewhat flustered. "Can you shut down the feed? Shut it down immediately!"
"Let's see what's going on," Tony said, clicking a button. "Look at the computer screen. I believe that's North Korea."
A video instantly played on the large screen. It showed a heavily armored robot with a bulky, top-heavy upper body, a clearly inferior attempt at duplicating the Iron Man aesthetic, with a soldier awkwardly seated inside.
The machine struggled to take its second step, immediately losing balance and falling heavily to the ground. Then, the two massive, rotating machine guns mounted on its mechanical arms began to indiscriminately fire at the surrounding military personnel in a chaotic spray of bullets. Blood immediately splattered onto the lens of the stationary camera, creating a horrific, gruesome scene.
Everyone who witnessed this terrifying spectacle was utterly shocked. The Senator stood up and screamed, "Can you shut it down! Shut that down right now!"
"Iran," Tony said calmly, looking at his small screen and clicking again, instantly switching the feed.
The scene shifted to a bleak desert military base. A heavily armed, humanoid machine attempted a vertical take-off, but plunged downwards in less than ten meters, unable to maintain stability. It began to fly erratically, spinning and crashing uncontrollably into personnel and equipment, destroying several armored vehicles in the process.
"Is that Justin Hammer's design?" Tony asked deliberately, looking at the figure of a man directing the failed test on the screen. "Justin, you're on national TV now, buddy. You're the center of attention."
The screen abruptly switched to a video of Justin Hammer himself, standing next to a monstrous humanoid robot. Hammer was eagerly conducting basic motion step experiments: raising its leg, reaching out its hand. But as Justin enthusiastically twisted his own waist to demonstrate a maneuver, the robot next to him kept its lower body rooted to the spot while its massive, heavy upper body violently rotated a full 180 degrees.
A bloodcurdling, muffled scream came from inside the armor. The machine instantly shut down and slumped, ceasing all movement.
Justin, watching the broadcast in the lobby, was frantically searching for the power switch, but someone wisely reached up and simply unplugged the Senator's video cable from below, thus stopping Tony from continuing to play the disastrous program.
However, the damage was done. Many people in the gallery found the videos unwatchable, and even the senators on the dais covered their faces in profound embarrassment.
Tony, sitting back down, leaned into the microphone. "Most countries will take five to ten years to get even close to what I have, but you know who's faster than most?"
He gestured with theatrical disdain towards the now completely flustered and humiliated Justin Hammer. "Hammer Industries, Senator, it will take at least twenty years of throwing money at this before they produce anything that won't kill its own driver."
Hammer grabbed the nearest microphone, his voice high and frantic. "Let me explain! The driver is not dead! He's just... heavily concussed!"
The Senator, completely defeated, said hastily, "I think we've seen enough. I don't see any further reason to continue this discussion—"
Tony cut him off, standing up again, his expression one of bored superiority. "I guess all I can really say is: You're welcome."
"What's the meaning of that, Mr. Stark?" Stern stammered.
"The meaning?" Tony tilted his head. "I can prevent the threat of nuclear war, Senator. Iron Man is incredibly useful. We are safe. America is safe. You want my product? Without a second thought! I just did you all a massive favor by proving that no one else can even hope to replicate it."
Tony stood up, facing the hundreds of people and countless media reporters with effortless composure.
"I can maintain world peace all by myself, without interference from this bureaucratic nightmare."
He held up two fingers, making the peace sign—a gesture that, in his mind, was a symbol of the world's safety he had unilaterally achieved.
Everyone stood up and applauded Tony Stark. Countless flashbulbs went off, immortalizing the moment of his decisive, arrogant victory.
"What more do you people want from me?" Tony shouted, turning his defiant gaze to the red-faced senators on the stage. "I'm trying to work with those clowns, but they keep pushing!"
The enraged Senator Stern, having lost all professionalism, leaned into his microphone and cursed directly at him in front of the media, "F**k you, Mr. Stark."
Tony, however, merely put on his dark sunglasses, blew a dramatic kiss directly at the cursing senator amidst the cheers of the crowd, and left the Senate hearing with an undeniable flourish.
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit, sparsely furnished civilian house in Moscow, Russia, a wiry, intense man named Ivan Vanko watched Tony Stark's triumphant escape on the television screen.
The screen showed Tony, charismatic and untouchable, walking away from the disgraced Senator. A cold, dangerous intensity settled in Vanko's eyes. The Russian engineer, his face gaunt and covered in tattoos, quietly completed the final, critical steps of the device he was constructing on his filthy workbench.
When the switch was finally flipped, a visible, humming electric plasma field erupted onto the two whip-like cables mounted on his arms, filling the translucent whips with deadly, crackling blue energy.
Ivan donned the simple, powerful exoskeleton he had built, gripped the charged, crackling whips in both hands, and brought them online.
With a single, powerful, furious swing of his arms, the torrent of blue electric sparks generated by the whips sliced easily and cleanly through the television screen and the entire particleboard TV cabinet below.
The technology of Tony Stark—the very power Vanko's father had been denied—was now weaponized in Ivan Vanko's hands, and it was pointed squarely at the man who had stolen his family's destiny.