The evening shimmered with the polished glow of chandeliers and laughter as the grand doors of the Metropolitan Innovation Center swung open. Inside, the pre-summit reception for the World Technology Conference was in full swing—a glittering gathering of the world's most powerful inventors, industrial leaders, and scientific pioneers.
At that exact moment, Tony Stark strode into the venue with his usual air of effortless confidence. The man was used to attention, and as soon as he entered, heads turned and conversations dimmed. Cameras clicked. Drinks paused midair. Tony Stark—billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist—had arrived.
The reception itself was part of an old Western tradition. Before the official summit began, organizers held an informal evening to let participants mingle, build connections, and size up their competition under the polite disguise of champagne and small talk.
And no one played that social game better than Tony.
As he adjusted his cufflinks and flashed a smirk, a wave of guests immediately approached him, eager to exchange pleasantries, shake his hand, or simply be seen near the icon of Stark Industries.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., identify these people for me, will you?" Tony said under his breath, his tone casual, even playful.
> "Yes, sir," replied the smooth, modulated voice of his personal AI assistant.
In an instant, holographic data boxes appeared across the inner lens of his smart glasses, scanning every face in the room. Each box shimmered briefly, displaying real-time identification—names, positions, affiliations.
It was Tony's favorite trick at events like this. He could look right at someone and pretend to remember everything about them, even if he had never seen them before.
He grinned as a portly man approached him.
"Hey Tony, good to see you again!"
Tony snapped his fingers like he just recalled a fond memory.
"Oh, Ethan! Long time, huh?"
They shook hands, smiling—one fake, one oblivious.
Inside, Tony didn't bother remembering a single name. He relied entirely on J.A.R.V.I.S.'s augmented-reality overlay. For him, the event was just another PR exercise—a place to be admired, not to admire.
As he moved through the crowd, each flick of his gaze brought up another glowing window of information. To Tony, this was easy. Fun, even. He was in his element.
Until suddenly… he wasn't.
---
The holographic boxes began to glitch.
Names flickered, scrambled, and then vanished completely.
A sharp red exclamation mark flared across his entire display.
[Warning! Warning! J.A.R.V.I.S. is under attack!]
[Warning! Hostile data detected!]
Tony froze mid-step, his smirk vanishing.
"What the hell?!" he hissed.
This couldn't be real.
J.A.R.V.I.S.—his pride, his greatest creation—was under attack? Impossible. The AI's architecture was one of the most secure systems on Earth. Tony had spent years building and perfecting it. No hacker, no company, not even a government agency had ever breached it.
But before he could react—
CRACK!
His smart-glass display shattered into a burst of light and static. The entire lens blinked violently, and then—a puff of black smoke hissed from the corner of the frame.
The crowd gasped.
Guests stepped back, startled, as the scent of burning circuits filled the air. Some of them thought it was a show—after all, Tony Stark was known for dramatic tech demonstrations—but the panic in his eyes said otherwise.
Security rushed over, weapons half-drawn, scanning for threats. A few guests pulled out their phones, already recording. Tony Stark, the unshakable genius, stood there in the middle of the grand hall, covered in smoke, humiliated.
And then, mercifully, someone came to his rescue.
Colonel James "Rhodey" Rhodes, his closest friend and military liaison, pushed through the onlookers. "Alright, people, relax!" Rhodey said loudly with an easy smile. "It's just Tony testing a prototype! You know how he gets. Little too much voltage, that's all!"
He clapped an arm around Tony's shoulder and guided him away before anyone could press for details.
As they disappeared into the hallway, the murmurs began immediately. Some guests whispered in confusion; others, barely suppressing laughter.
Within minutes, the story would spread—Tony Stark's latest gadget malfunctioned at a major tech event. The irony was too delicious for his competitors to resist.
Tony Stark, the genius engineer, had just been publicly embarrassed.
---
Inside the bathroom, the billionaire slammed the door shut and tore the smoking glasses off his face, throwing them against the marble sink.
"Damn it!" he snarled.
For a man who thrived on control, this was intolerable. He quickly activated the remaining smart devices linked to his personal network—his watch, his communicator, his embedded neural relay—but one by one, they all returned the same result.
"Connection error. AI offline."
J.A.R.V.I.S. was gone.
Tony leaned over the sink, gripping the porcelain. His reflection stared back—furious, shocked, and, for the first time in a long while, uncertain.
"Who the hell could've pulled this off?" he muttered.
He had spent years perfecting his AI architecture. There were only a handful of organizations on the planet capable of even attempting such an attack, let alone succeeding.
And then a thought hit him.
When he'd first arrived, he'd ordered J.A.R.V.I.S. to probe the Vanderbuilt Technologies network—Henry's company. That smug, mysterious genius had refused every acquisition offer Stark Industries had ever made. Henry had something Tony couldn't replicate, and that burned him.
Could it be… him?
Tony straightened, jaw tightening. "No way," he muttered, but the unease in his voice betrayed him. "No way Vanderbuilt's AI is that advanced…"
Still, doubt lingered like smoke.
---
At that same moment, Henry and Izzy entered the reception hall from the opposite side.
Unlike Tony's grand arrival, theirs went largely unnoticed. There were no cameras flashing, no sycophants rushing to greet them. Most of the crowd didn't even recognize Henry on sight. After all, Vanderbuilt Technologies was a young company, and its founder preferred to stay out of the spotlight.
But Henry didn't care. Fame wasn't why he was here.
He handed his coat to an attendant, accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and began scanning the room. The crowd sparkled with wealth and ego—old money, new money, and everything in between.
"Izzy," he said softly. "Run a full analysis. Identify everyone present."
> "Yes, President," Izzy replied, her voice gentle and melodic.
Her eyes glowed a soft blue. For a moment, tiny streams of code flickered across her irises as her internal processors activated. Within seconds, the room's entire population had been mapped, catalogued, and analyzed.
Data streamed directly to Henry's encrypted wrist device.
> "Analysis complete. All attendees identified."
Henry scrolled through the information and couldn't help but smirk.
"Oh, this is quite the guest list."
He sipped his drink and looked around.
Hammer Industries. Osborn Group. Pioneer Technologies. Roxxon Corporation. Umbrella Enterprise.
The titans of the tech world were all here, gathered under one roof. CEOs, inventors, and board members of multinational giants—all drinking, laughing, pretending to be civil while quietly calculating each other's downfall.
Henry found it amusing.
These people fought over scraps of power and patents while he stood on the edge of something far greater—technology that rewrote the rules of the world itself.
Izzy leaned in slightly. "President, should I begin recording conversations of strategic interest?"
Henry smiled. "No need. Tonight, we're here to observe." He took another sip, eyes gleaming. "The vultures will reveal themselves soon enough."
At that moment, across the hall, Tony re-emerged—his face tight, his usual swagger gone. He tried to pretend everything was fine, but the faint scorch mark on his collar told another story. A few nearby guests suppressed laughter behind their wine glasses.
Henry noticed, of course. He didn't react outwardly, but there was a flicker of amusement in his gaze.
Izzy tilted her head. "President, should we respond?"
He chuckled quietly. "No, Izzy. We've already responded. The lesson's been delivered."
And as the orchestra began to play and the night continued, Tony Stark, the genius of Stark Industries, was left stewing in quiet humiliation—while Henry of Vanderbuilt Technologies stood silently among the elite, watching the stage for his next move.
---