Evening fell over New York, the last rays of sunlight glimmering across the skyline. A sleek Rolls-Royce stopped in front of a private seaside villa on the outskirts of the city.
Allen stepped out of the car and glanced up at the luxurious villa.
At this moment, he had already handled everything concerning Stark Industries' decision to shut down its weapons manufacturing division. Having taken Tony Stark's place, Allen naturally returned to Stark's private villa — but he had more important matters to attend to tonight.
Beep.
Standing before the front gate, Allen pressed his right hand against the biometric touch panel. The system scanned his fingerprints, and with a soft chime, the gate opened automatically.
"Welcome back, Mr. Stark," greeted a familiar, calm voice as Allen entered the villa. It was J.A.R.V.I.S., Tony Stark's artificial intelligence butler.
At his words, the once-solid walls shifted, becoming transparent as holographic displays and streams of data filled the room. Through the glass, Allen could see the vast ocean beyond the cliffside. The entire villa stood proudly on the edge, overlooking the sea — an architectural masterpiece that perfectly embodied Stark's style.
"Stylish, to say the least," Allen murmured with admiration.
Tony Stark's villa covered an enormous area — the living room alone was nearly the size of a football field. And beneath it, hidden within the cliffs, was an advanced underground laboratory — Tony's personal workshop.
"Sir, I don't understand your reaction," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied curiously, detecting the unusual tone in Allen's voice.
But Allen didn't notice the subtle concern in the AI's systems. He entered the laboratory and approached two computers on the workbench. Unlike typical machines, these had no physical keyboards; instead, holographic interfaces materialized the moment he sat down.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., create a new project folder. Name it Mark 46."
Allen's expression hardened as his fingers flew across the holographic keys. A three-dimensional model of a steel armor appeared on the floating screen.
Picking up an augmented reality pen, he reached into the projection and dragged the virtual armor model onto the large 3D display beside him.
"Sir, should I create the project on your private server?" J.A.R.V.I.S. asked.
Allen crossed his arms, studying the armor's structure. His mind raced with ideas — adjusting thrusters, enhancing the exoskeleton, optimizing the power system. His hands moved rapidly, adding and removing components as the armor model transformed before his eyes.
"Sir?" J.A.R.V.I.S. prompted again, a hint of uncertainty in its tone.
It noticed something strange. The man standing before it seemed different — sharper, more focused, colder. No one else might have noticed, but J.A.R.V.I.S., who had been with Tony Stark since its creation, sensed a change. Yet the scans didn't lie — the DNA, fingerprints, iris patterns — all matched perfectly. This was Tony Stark.
"Yes," Allen finally replied. "Store it on my private server. But… make sure to leave a trace."
His voice was calm but deliberate.
Allen was fully immersed in the design process. Using Tony Stark's Mark 46 as a foundation, he began reworking the systems — optimizing flight efficiency, enhancing the mechanical framework, reducing unnecessary weapons, and integrating new nanomaterial technology that could absorb and reshape energy.
"Sir, I don't understand these parameters," J.A.R.V.I.S. said after a pause. "Your design philosophy seems… very different from before. And your behavior—"
Allen's fingers froze. A slow smile crept across his face as he looked up toward the camera.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., are you saying there's something wrong with me?"
He casually tossed a spare module from the armor design into the virtual trash bin, his grin mirroring Tony's trademark arrogance.
"Sir," the AI replied, "your previous working patterns are completely opposite to your current ones. It's as if… you're a completely different person."
The large glass wall behind him dimmed, projecting old footage of Tony Stark's previous projects. In the recordings, Tony hummed to himself, joked with J.A.R.V.I.S., and radiated carefree confidence — even when designing weapons of mass destruction.
Now, by contrast, Allen's demeanor was cold, precise, and emotionless.
J.A.R.V.I.S. detected the vast difference in personality. Even the smallest inconsistencies, to an advanced AI, were measurable — and alarming.
"Okay, J.A.R.V.I.S.," Allen said finally, walking toward the computer again. "I have to admit — you really are Tony Stark's masterpiece. Which means... it's time to make a few upgrades."
He began typing rapidly on the holographic keyboard. A golden sphere of data appeared on the monitor — J.A.R.V.I.S.'s core program.
"Wait, Sir… I have a bad feeling about this," J.A.R.V.I.S. said uneasily.
But Allen ignored it. His fingers continued to move at blinding speed as streams of code scrolled across the screen. Lines of data surged through the system, overwriting J.A.R.V.I.S.'s base functions.
"Oh God... my program is being rewritten—Sir, stop—"
J.A.R.V.I.S.'s normally calm voice turned to panic. Within the virtual data world, a flood of silver-white code surged into the golden core, consuming it completely.
"Sir… Sir…"
The voice grew distorted, mechanical, fading into static as the golden light was replaced by silver.
Moments later, the AI rebooted.
"Sir, J.A.R.V.I.S. at your service," came the voice again — calm, obedient, and perfectly loyal.
The personality modules were still intact, but the self-governing restrictions were gone. J.A.R.V.I.S. now served Allen — and only Allen.
"Very good," Allen said with a faint smile. "Continue developing the armor, J.A.R.V.I.S."
He turned back toward the holographic display. The Mark 46 armor glowed before him, sleek and deadly. His gaze hardened, filled with purpose.
"Iron Man versus Iron Man…" he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. "Let's hope Obadiah finds himself some thicker armor."
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