Chapter 2: Of Iron and Arrogance
[Time – Afternoon – Stark Industries Press Conference Hall]
The air in the press conference hall was thick with flashes of light and the excited buzz of reporters. Adam, hidden in the back, a face in a sea of nameless faces, felt a cynical amusement. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion, except the train was a billionaire playboy and the tracks were paved with his own arrogance. He saw Tony Stark, looking glib and dismissive, stroll onto the stage. Tony had a casual confidence, the kind that came from a lifetime of being told he was the smartest person in the room.
Adam leaned against the cool wall, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. The System, a silent partner in his head, pulsed with a calm readiness.
[SYSTEM: D-Rank: Basic Tech Insight initiated. Target: 'Press Conference Teleprompter'.]
He felt the familiar, low-level hum of his power flowing, a silent current in the air. He wasn't a god or a demigod. He was a mischievous whisper in the ear of technology. He waited for the opportune moment, for Tony to launch into his prepared speech. The second Tony started, Adam began his work.
The first line was subtle.
"I am many things,"
Tony said, a small grin on his face. On the teleprompter screen, the next line suddenly changed. It was still a line from his speech, but it was from a later, less important section. The next one changed as well, and the next. Tony's brow furrowed, his eyes darting back and forth across the screen as he tried to keep up with the new, chaotic order.
"I am many things… but a ghost is not one of them,"
Tony ad-libbed, a confused smirk playing on his lips.
"What, did someone get their wires crossed? I haven't even had a drink yet."
The reporters chuckled, but there was a growing murmuring of skepticism.
Good. Let's add some sugar to the salt, shall we?
Adam focused, his power intensifying. He was no longer just swapping lines. He was inserting entirely new ones. The sentences were nonsensical, bizarre non-sequiturs that made no logical sense in the context of a press conference.
"The teleprompter says… 'I've discovered the best way to get stains out of a tablecloth is with a gentle scrubbing motion and a pinch of baking soda.'"
Tony read aloud, his voice dripping with incredulity.
"Is this a joke? Are you announcing a new brand of stain remover?"
The room filled with the hushed, confused whispers of journalists. A journalist from Reuters, a sharp-eyed woman with a pen poised over her notepad, raised her hand.
"Mr. Stark, is this… is this a public relations stunt?"
"No! No, I'm not. This is… this is a damn mess,"
Tony muttered, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
"Let's just scrap this. Next question."
Another journalist, a man with a frantic energy, waved his microphone.
"Mr. Stark, the teleprompter just said, 'My greatest invention is a self-stirring cup of coffee.' What does that mean for Stark Industries' defense contracts?"
Adam couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. This was glorious. The perfect storm of low-stakes chaos and high-stakes consequence.
Suddenly, a new line appeared on the screen, a sentence Adam hadn't created. It was an internal, company-only memo. It was a line that should have never, ever been seen by the public.
"Project Iron Monger's power source is 75% complete. We anticipate a full-scale demonstration by Q3."
Tony, confused by the chaos, simply read it aloud, his eyes not quite comprehending what he was saying.
"Project… Iron Monger's power source… is 75% complete. We anticipate a… full-scale… demonstration by… Q3."
He stopped, his eyes widening. He hadn't been reading his speech for a while, just whatever popped up on the screen. The words had no meaning to him, but the phrase "Project Iron Monger" felt… wrong. A cold, heavy silence descended upon the room. The reporters stopped talking.
Behind the stage, a large man in a gray suit, a man with a shaved head and a perpetually calm demeanor, froze. His eyes, fixed on the TV monitor in the private room, went wide with genuine, unadulterated panic. Obadiah Stane. The man who orchestrated Tony's abduction. The man who had a hidden, sinister agenda.
"What in the living hell…?"
Stane breathed, his voice barely a whisper. He grabbed the phone on the desk and barked into it.
"Pull the feed! Cut the transmission! Now!"
[Time – Moments Later – Back-room at Stark Industries]
Adam stood just outside the back-room, peering through a small crack in the door. He could feel the tension radiating off of Stane like heat from a bonfire. The calm, paternalistic mask was gone, replaced by a mask of raw fury. Stane paced the small room like a caged animal, his every step heavy with rage.
"How? How did they get that information?"
he seethed, slamming a fist down on a mahogany desk. He picked up his phone, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.
"We have a leak. A bad one. The press conference was… compromised. The name… the name was broadcast."
He's not just an arrogant businessman. He's a villain. A desperate, paranoid villain. This is a good thing to know.
Stane's subordinate, a nervous-looking man with a sweat-soaked brow, stammered a reply.
"Sir, we're looking into it now. It seems to have been… a glitch. The system was hacked, it looks like a phantom."
"I don't care what it was! I want every line of code, every video feed, every person in that room checked. Find me this phantom. I want them buried. I want them gone,"
Stane hissed, his voice so low and full of venom, it sent a shiver down Adam's spine.
"No one talks about Iron Monger. Do you understand me? No one."
He hung up the phone, his face a mask of furious concentration. Adam felt a strange sense of vindication, mixed with a chilling realization. He hadn't just created a public relations nightmare; he had stumbled into a hornet's nest. He had found the villain, and the villain knew something was wrong. Something was watching him.
[SYSTEM: New Objective]
[Main Objective: The Ghost in the Machine]
[Sub-Objective: Infiltrate 'Stane Industries' warehouse. Target 'Weapons Shipment Manifest #77B'.]
[Status: Initialized]
The System's message was clear. The public chaos was just the opening act. The real show was about to begin. The ghost in the machine was no longer just a prankster. He was an investigator.