The Senate hearing chamber felt damp and suffocating.
Rows of suited politicians and military officials sat with grim expressions, cameras flashing relentlessly at Tony Stark in the witness seat.
"Mr. Stark," Senator Stern said sharply, "the incident in Monaco proved that your so-called Iron Man technology can be replicated and weaponized. A terrorist used tech nearly identical to yours. This is a national security threat."
He slammed the desk.
"We once again demand that you surrender the Iron Man armor technology to the U.S. government."
Tony leaned back lazily, chewing gum.
"I prefer to call it a high-tech prosthetic," he replied dryly. "And since I am Iron Man, asking me to hand it over sounds anatomically inconvenient."
Muted laughter spread.
Stern's face darkened. "This is serious!"
Tony straightened slightly.
"The fact is, other nations—and certain 'competitors'—have tried copying my tech for years. They failed. Monaco's guy? Twenty-year-old half-finished junk. You want to mass-produce that?"
Stern gestured sharply. "We have experts. Mr. Hammer?"
Justin Hammer stood immediately, tie adjusted, posture inflated.
"Hammer Industries is fully capable of responsibly replicating the system under military supervision. We will turn it into a shield for America."
Levi sat several rows back, officially present as Stark Industries' second-largest shareholder.
He watched Hammer with faint amusement.
Tony's patience was thinning.
Levi typed quickly on his phone and angled it toward Tony:
> Ask him which sounds better today:
"Illegal seizure of intellectual property"
or
"Forced technology transfer."
Remind him Stark Industries' legal team is vicious.
Tony's lips curved.
He turned back to Stern.
"Senator, the Iron Man armor is Stark Industries' protected intellectual property. Are you proposing government confiscation of private tech companies now? Should Google hand over search algorithms next?"
The room stirred uneasily.
Other corporate representatives shifted in alarm.
Stern hesitated.
Tony pressed forward.
"As for Mr. Hammer's 'expertise'… JARVIS?"
The screen behind them lit up.
Footage played of Hammer's drone demonstration—spinning erratically before crashing spectacularly.
The chamber erupted in laughter.
Hammer's face drained of color.
Tony shrugged innocently.
"You want me to hand over cutting-edge aerospace robotics to the guy who can't build a stable toaster?"
The hearing dissolved into chaos.
The government's demand was indefinitely postponed.
Tony walked out victorious.
---
In the parking lot, Tony exhaled deeply.
"Thanks for the assist," he said to Levi.
"Protecting my investment," Levi replied calmly.
They entered Tony's Audi.
"What's the status on Vanko?" Levi asked casually.
Tony's jaw tightened. "Dead. Officially suicide."
"Convenient," Levi said lightly. "A man willing to attack you on global television suddenly gives up?"
Tony glanced at him.
"You think—"
"I think," Levi interrupted smoothly, "that Justin Hammer benefits tremendously from a world afraid of leaked Iron Man tech."
Silence filled the car.
Tony's grip on the steering wheel tightened.
"I'll look into it," he said quietly.
Levi smiled faintly.
That seed was planted.
---
That Night – Malibu Coast
Levi stood before a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the dark ocean.
He raised his right hand.
A small cluster of blue-white plasma flickered above his palm.
Plasma Confinement & Shaping.
"Too crude," he murmured.
Energy leaked as heat and light. Instability everywhere.
Time to refine.
He closed his eyes.
Cosmic energy flowed—not explosively, but precisely.
First: abandon arc-reactor plasma imitation.
Second: replace magnetic confinement.
Instead—
He wove space itself.
A hair-thin strand of spatial curvature extended from his palm, forming a flawless containment channel—an invisible tube forged from folded dimensions.
Then he injected a thread of compressed cosmic energy into that channel.
No flash.
No roar.
The energy stabilized instantly—density rising to terrifying levels.
Levi opened his eyes.
In his hand—
A nearly invisible whip.
It shimmered faintly only when light refracted through subtle distortions in air.
Silent.
Cold.
But its edge wasn't heat—
It was dimensional fracture.
He flicked his wrist.
The whip passed silently through a solid titanium alloy table.
Nothing happened.
The table remained intact.
Levi retracted the whip and tapped the surface lightly with his finger.
The titanium split cleanly in two along a mirror-smooth line.
No melting.
No deformation.
Matter severed at the structural bond level.
Levi examined the perfect cut.
A faint smile formed.
[New Skill Acquired: Dimensional Whip]
Whiplash had cut with heat.
Levi cut with reality itself.
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