Tony Stark observed the growing unrest outside Stark Tower through the building's surveillance system. What he saw left him feeling numb.
When he had carried the nuclear bomb into the portal during the Battle of New York, Tony had fully expected to die. He wasn't a god or a soldier—just a man in a suit doing the only thing he could to save the world. But now, with the dust barely settled and the city still smoldering, he was met not with gratitude—but with demands, anger, and threats.
The protesters gathered outside weren't asking for justice. They were demanding compensation—money, blood, someone to blame.
Was he rich? Absolutely. But throwing money at a problem like this? That wasn't the solution. Worse, some of them were calling for his life as payment.
What was he supposed to do—apologize for surviving?
The whole thing left Tony chilled to the bone.
He didn't regret saving the city. No, what haunted him was the realization of just how cruel and selfish people could be.
"Tony, are you okay?"
Pepper's voice pulled him from the spiral. She stood beside him, worried but composed. This wasn't the usual Pepper dealing with Tony's genius-fueled chaos. This time, she saw something different. Not frustration—disappointment. Deep, gnawing disappointment.
"Don't let them get to you," she said softly. "A lot of them were stirred up by outside forces—maybe even the military. This isn't your fault."
Tony wrapped his arms around her. "Do you think I was wrong, Pepper? Is it really my fault? Are they saying it's fine for aliens to kill... but not for me to fight back?"
She sighed, resting her head on his chest. "It's not about right or wrong anymore. It's about greed. People will always want someone to blame."
"You've done nothing wrong," Tony murmured.
That night, he lay awake, restless. And outside, things escalated.
The following day, the protests grew more violent. With the Chitauri's attack devastating infrastructure, the number of homeless in New York had skyrocketed—nearly 70% of the population was displaced. Relief efforts were barely helping a third of them. Hunger, frustration, and fear turned into rage.
And then came another move. One far more dangerous.
The Uchiha Office in New York was surrounded by military units. Armored vehicles and loudspeakers lined the streets. The order was broadcast on loop:
"You have 24 hours to surrender all alien weapons and technologies. Any resistance will be met with full force. Surrender immediately!"
Inside the office, tension brewed. Uchiha and Uzumaki clan members stood at the ready.
"What now?" Itachi Uchiha asked, calm but stern. "Do we engage them?"
"We've received word from Lord Su Xiuyu," one of the Uzumaki shinobi replied. "His orders are clear—protect our interests. If war comes, so be it. The Uchiha will not be threatened."
"Are you sure?" Itachi asked, frowning.
"Yes. Lord Xiuyu said it himself. We don't compromise."
"Then let's move."
Led by Itachi, the shinobi deployed swiftly. In a matter of seconds, illusions cascaded across the streets. Soldiers fell into comas of confusion, their vision warped. Armored vehicles shut down one after another. Within minutes, the entire military encirclement had collapsed.
Ironically, the U.S. military's presence had only gifted the Uchiha with new tech—now repurposed for their own defense.
But for the military brass, this was the perfect excuse.
"They've finally retaliated," said General Ross, his voice grim with anticipation. "Good. Prep the cameras. We go live nationwide."
That evening, across every American television and screen, General Ross addressed the nation.
"Ever since the alien invasion, our country has been in crisis. The military has stood firm in our duty. But recently, individuals with unnatural powers have begun seizing state property. These alien weapons pose a threat to national security."
"Our actions are lawful. We do not act lightly. But today, the Uchiha Office attacked our forces directly. That is a declaration of war."
"From this moment on, the U.S. military enters full combat readiness. All superhumans are hereby ordered to obey or face military justice."
The speech divided the nation. Some hailed it as strength. Others saw it as fear masking cowardice. Either way, the fuse was lit.
Far from the chaos, Su Xiuyu sat calmly, phone in hand. The military's threats didn't faze him—only amused him.
"So now I'm the one declaring war?" he muttered, laughing coldly.
Ding.
His phone buzzed.
Tony Stark.
"Hey, what's going on?" Xiuyu answered casually.
"You've seen the broadcast, haven't you?" Tony's voice was weary.
"I have. Looks like your government wants a fight."
"What are you going to do?"
Xiuyu's voice turned cold.
"I don't think the American military needs to exist anymore."
Tony was silent for a moment.
"You're really going that far?"
"They made their move first, Tony," Xiuyu replied. "I didn't ask for this war—but I'll finish it."
He paused, then said with a smirk, "By the way… how'd you like to be president?"
Tony blinked. "President?"
"Yeah. Once I've taken this country, someone has to lead it. You interested?"
Tony chuckled nervously. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious. Take a couple of days off. Relax. I'll handle things from here. If they want a war… I'll give them a war they'll never forget."
And just like that, while the government sat comfortably in its illusion of control…
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