An hour later, the press conference at Stark Industries was in full swing.
Flashlights rained down like relentless storms, illuminating the hall as if it were broad daylight.
Reporters from across the globe had gathered, circling like sharks sniffing blood, eager to hear what the long-missing Tony and Henry Stark had to say.
Tony and Henry walked onto the stage side by side.
Tony had changed into a sharp Armani suit, his hair meticulously styled, though the exhaustion etched in his eyes couldn't be masked by even the most expensive cosmetics.
Henry wore his black combat suit beneath his armor, having removed the cape. The form-fitting suit showcased his exaggeratedly muscular physique, making him look like a superhero straight out of a sci-fi movie.
The brothers' appearance ignited the crowd instantly.
"Mr. Stark! Welcome back! Can you tell us what happened during your disappearance?"
"Mr. Henry! Rumors say you were kidnapped by a terrorist organization. Is this true?"
"Tony! You look thinner—was the food in Afghanistan that bad?"
Tony strode to the podium, facing a sea of microphones and shouting questions. He didn't show an ounce of nervousness; rather, he looked like he was savoring the attention.
He loved being the center of the world's gaze—whether at a party or a press conference.
He glanced at the stack of prepared speech papers from the PR team, then, to everyone's surprise, lightly chuckled and tossed the thick stack aside.
Pepper's heart leapt. She knew Tony was about to do something unpredictable.
Tony scanned the hall, enjoying the sudden silence, then leaned into the microphone and cleared his throat.
"Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow Americans, and those watching online around the world," he began, his lazy, arrogant tone shining through.
"I know you have many questions. Such as whether my slightly tanned skin is from Hawaii. The answer: no, I prefer Bali. Or whether I found new creative inspiration in Afghanistan. The answer: yes."
His gaze grew serious, the smile fading.
"There, I saw firsthand what my weapons are used for. I saw them used on people. What they bring is nothing but death and destruction. I saw my weapon empire—built with half a lifetime of effort—resting on foundations of innocent blood and bones."
He paused. The hall fell silent. Every eye was locked on him, stunned by the sudden weight of his words.
"So, after returning, I made a decision," he said, lifting his head, eyes unwavering.
"I've decided that Stark Industries will permanently close its weapons manufacturing division, effective immediately."
Boom!
The announcement hit like a detonated bomb. The press erupted. Microphones were thrust forward; voices shouted questions in a chaotic chorus.
The board members were stunned. Obadiah's face turned ashen; sweat dotted his signature bald head.
Damn Tony! What has he lost his mind?!
Amid the chaos, Henry calmly walked to Tony, casually draped an arm around his shoulder, and took another microphone. His tone was lighthearted:
"Exactly as my brother said. We're done.
We've been thinking about what Stark Industries can truly leave behind. And we concluded that making things that go boom is just… so tasteless. Boring. So, we're shifting focus—high-end home appliances. Like a toaster that can toast bread at Mach 3. Way cooler than missiles, right?"
The hall fell into a brief, stunned silence. Everyone stared at the brothers like they had lost their minds.
One sharp reporter seized the new angle. "Mr. Stark! Mr. Henry! Recently, the two of you appeared in downtown Los Angeles wearing what seemed to be exosuits, causing quite a commotion. Are these new Stark Industries weapons? Doesn't this contradict your decision to close the weapons division?"
"Ah, excellent question!" Tony perked up, taking the lead.
"First, let me clarify—that's not a weapon. Weapon? Please, that word is so crude, so last century. We are pacifists."
The journalists internally groaned. Yeah, right—the world's biggest arms manufacturer suddenly a pacifist?
"As for those two suits…" Tony dragged the words, smiling mysteriously.
"You could think of them as the latest multi-functional, highly intelligent utility tools from our company."
"Exactly," Henry added immediately.
"Their main function is… high-efficiency delivery services. Imagine ordering a pizza online, and five minutes later, a dashing armored gentleman arrives at your window at supersonic speed with your piping-hot pizza. Amazing, right?
Sure, the pizza might turn into a flattened disc due to extreme acceleration, but details—we're still optimizing."
Together, they downplayed the revolutionary exosuits, describing them as nothing more than flashy delivery tools.
Watching their casual, confident delivery, everyone was unsure whether to believe them.
Obadiah could no longer sit still.
He knew that if he didn't intervene, Stark Industries' stock would plummet tomorrow.
He jumped to his feet, pushed through the crowd, grabbed a microphone, and put on a show of concern:
"Everyone! Please remain calm! Tony has just been through a traumatic ordeal—his mental state is not yet stable! What he's saying may just be post-traumatic stress nonsense! Do not take it seriously! As for the company's future, the board will carefully consider all decisions and will not act rashly!"
Pepper, watching this circus from the stage, was completely flabbergasted.
She had no idea what had happened in the past hour.
Meanwhile, Tony and Henry stood back, watching Obadiah flail like a clown.
They exchanged a glance, both seeing the same mockery reflected in the other's eyes.
Then, without a word, the brothers leisurely walked down the stage, leaving chaos behind them.