"Enhanced Super-Soldier Serum?" Henry stroked his chin and nodded.
"Sounds good. It's better than nothing. We can use it to enhance Happy. That way, next time he won't even fail to deliver a suitcase."
"And you, Tony, can't just rely on the Armor."
"Alright then, let's start with that," Tony was disappointed, but he quickly regained his enthusiasm.
"Jarvis, set this project as the highest priority. I want Stark Industries to mass-produce Captain Americas! Then we can form a basketball team. I've already thought of the name: The Stark Supermen!"
With the analysis complete, Tony finally remembered that they were home. He took a bottle of expensive red wine and two stemmed glasses from the wine cabinet. He poured two glasses, handing one to Henry and keeping the other. He leaned against the experimental bench, gently swirling the wine, looking at the rich red in the glass.
"Now, it's time to talk about business." his tone became serious.
"What are you planning to do about Obadiah? Just have Happy throw him into the Pacific Ocean? I think that's a good, environmentally friendly idea."
"It's simple," Henry took a sip of the red wine. It tasted good; he enjoyed the feeling of having everything under control.
"As planned, while we were on our way back, Jarvis anonymously packaged and sent all the criminal evidence of his collusion with the Ten Rings, arms smuggling, and attempted murder of us to the FBI, CIA, and the Wall Street Journal. Now, we just have to wait for him to start his show. He thinks we don't know, so he'll definitely try to deal with us. Then, he'll make a fool of himself in front of the whole world. Based on the time, it should be about now."
He glanced at the clock on the wall.
"You continue researching your Superman basketball team here. I'll be right back."
"You're going?" Tony paused. He was about to suggest that they go together, or that Happy should handle it. But when he saw Henry's calm and confident gaze, he swallowed his words.
He remembered their ordeal in Afghanistan, the hypocrisy of Obadiah's face, and the anger in his heart reignited.
"Be back soon," he finally said, raising his glass and clinking it against Henry's.
"I need you to research with me. After all, you're better at biotechnology than I am, aren't you? I don't want to turn the lab into a monster room crawling with slime."
"Of course," Henry smiled, downing the red wine in his glass.
Then, with Jarvis's assistance, he began to put on the pure black Black God Armor again.
"Seriously, this thing is a hassle to put on," he complained while dressing.
"I need the mechanical arm every time. It's so inconvenient. Tony, we need to hurry up and research nanotech Armor. The kind that can be stored in a wristwatch, or symbiotically integrated with the body, covering the whole body with just a thought—that's true black technology, and that's worthy of the Stark name."
"I agree," Tony said, watching him and nodding in deep agreement.
"And it has to be cooler than yours, with gold trim. That fits my style better."
Henry wasn't just talking. He really had this idea. Nanotech Armor, besides being convenient, was incredibly cool!
A few minutes later, Henry was fully armoured. He didn't take the elevator again, opting instead to take the stairs up to the second floor of the villa.
"When I get back, our party can begin," he shouted to Tony downstairs.
Then, he walked onto the large lawn outside the second-floor living room and slowly levitated under the bright moonlight.
The next second:
BANG!
He turned into a black shadow, whooshing into the sky and instantly vanishing into the night. All that remained was a circle of white air that spread outwards, blowing grass clippings across the lawn.
Meanwhile, thousands of kilometres away in Washington D.C., on the top floor of an unassuming office building.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, Director's Office.
Nick Fury stood with his back to the door, overlooking the city's myriad lights through the huge floor-to-ceiling window. His iconic bald head was exceptionally bright under the city's neon lights.
Coulson stood behind him, reporting everything that happened at the press conference that day.
"In short, Director, Tony Stark announced the closure of the weapons division, and both he and his brother, Henry Stark, publicly admitted to the existence of the two suspected individual combat armours, although they described them as assistive tools."
"Assistive tools?" Nick Fury turned around, his single eye flashing with sharp intelligence. "Coulson, do you believe that?"
"Of course not, Sir," Coulson said as a matter of fact.
"According to the satellite footage—though blurry—the combat power demonstrated by those two suits far exceeds our definition of individual weapons. Especially Henry Stark; his abilities don't seem to stem from the Armor itself."
"I know," Nick Fury's voice was low.
"I watched the entire recording of your encounter. That young man, he knows too much."
His single eye narrowed slightly.
"He knows S.H.I.E.L.D., he knows me, and he even knows about the Avengers Initiative. Coulson, this is top-level classified information. How does he know?"
"I don't know, Sir." Coulson's face showed a puzzled expression.
"He's like a prophet from the future. He looked at me as if he was looking at an old friend he had already met, even making fun of my hairline."
"A prophet?" Nick Fury walked to his desk, propping his hands on the surface and looking at Henry Stark's file on the screen.
"An uncontrollable genius, Tony Stark. Now, we have an enigmatic, immeasurably powerful prophet, Henry Stark."
His finger tapped gently on the desk, making a rhythmic tap-tap sound.
"Things are getting more and more interesting."
...
Meanwhile, in the night sky over Los Angeles.
Henry was suspended silently thousands of meters high, like a black ghost. He looked down at the City of Angels, which was decorated with countless lights like a river of stars. He took a deep breath, then wrinkled his nose in distaste.
"Jarvis, I take back what I said earlier," he said lazily on the comms channel.
"I thought the air in Afghanistan was bad enough, full of gunpowder and the smell of foolishness. But now it seems the air in Los Angeles isn't much better. It's a mixture of money, desire, and car exhaust, and it gives me a headache. I wonder how those Hollywood stars endure it. Do their lungs all have built-in air purifiers?"
"Sir, according to real-time air quality monitoring data, the PM2.5 index in your area is 152, which is moderately polluted. It is recommended that you activate the Armor's internal circulation filtering system," Jarvis's gentle voice responded.
"I don't need it," Henry rolled his eyes.
"My lungs are probably better than your air filter now. I'm just conducting a sociological observation, watching how humans live contentedly in a terrible environment of their own making. It's quite interesting, isn't it?"
He enjoyed the light breeze at high altitude and the feeling of having the entire city under his feet. Ever since he gained this power, he found himself increasingly drawn to the experience of observing the world from a God's-eye view. It made him feel free.
"By the way, Jarvis, play some music," Henry stretched.
"Give me something fitting—'Welcome to the Jungle.' I think it's perfect for this city."
Soon, the exciting rock intro started playing in the comms channel. Henry bobbed his head to the rhythm, his mood becoming even more cheerful. He circled slowly over Los Angeles like a king surveying his territory, listening to the music and casually chatting with Jarvis.
"Seriously, Jarvis, do you think Tony's 'intelligent transporter' excuse will fool those old foxes on Capitol Hill?"
"Based on my data analysis, the credibility of that statement is less than 5%, Sir. Human lies often require more details to be convincing, and Mr. Tony is clearly not skilled at that."
"You're right. That guy only has two modes in his head: 'I'm a genius, everyone listen to me' mode, and 'I'm too lazy to explain, you guys figure it out' mode. Asking him to lie is harder than asking him to admit he's not the smartest person in the world," Henry chuckled.
"However, I have to thank his high profile this time. He's drawn everyone's attention, which is perfect for me to handle some private matters."
The smile on his face slowly faded, and his eyes turned cold.
"Jarvis, how is our plan progressing? What's the situation with Obadiah, that bald guy?"
That's right. Just as he told Tony, Henry had already prepared a big gift for Obadiah before he decided to go to Afghanistan to save Tony.
Having Pepper and Happy gather evidence was only the first step. His real plan was far more direct and ruthless than Tony imagined. He wasn't Tony. He wouldn't fully entrust his hope to law and procedural justice. He trusted his own power to solve his own problems more.