It was the night of the Hammer Expo—yet another corporate spectacle where Justin Hammer once again tried to prove he could outshine Tony Stark, or at the very least, copy what Stark had already done, just with more flash and an unhealthy dose of vanity.
The main hall was packed. Hundreds of people squeezed between rows of gleaming chairs, multicolored lights flashing in sync with music nobody actually wanted to hear. But the reason for the crowd's presence was simple: Justin Hammer had promised them what he called "the future of American military technology"—something he claimed would eclipse Iron Man's armor. The audience, of course, applauded every word without truly understanding what any of it meant. That didn't matter. The thrill of being part of a so-called "historic" event was enough.
Among the crowd, Pepper Potts and Happy Hogan sat in the front row, one on either side, as if they were unwilling hostages at a show no sensible person would have chosen to attend. They both tried—almost heroically—to focus on anything but Justin Hammer, who was dancing onstage, twisting and flailing as if every awkward step was an act of brilliance.
"Pepper, do you have any idea why he insists on copying Tony so much?" Happy asked, his voice carrying both confusion and mild outrage. His wide eyes darted at Hammer's over-the-top moves, silently pleading for help.
Pepper sighed, closing her eyes briefly as her patience slipped away like water through her fingers. "That's a question no one on Earth can answer, Happy. No one..." she muttered, exasperation lacing every syllable.
If she could, she would have walked out right then, escaping the audiovisual torture unfolding onstage. But unfortunately—and irritatingly—Hammer Industries had sent an official, almost threateningly formal invitation, making it clear that declining would have been considered an insult.
"Now I understand why Tony refused to come..." Pepper murmured under her breath, her voice dripping with disdain. She leaned back slightly in her chair, shutting her eyes for a moment to avoid witnessing the whole ridiculous performance—but still unable to escape Hammer's presence. Every gesture, every exaggerated pose, was a screaming reminder that they were trapped.
Happy sighed as well, a sound somewhere between frustration and disbelief. "I don't think he even realizes how… annoying this is. Or how much he's torturing us mentally."
What followed felt like an eternity. Ten whole minutes of strange, exaggerated dance moves and melodramatic poses before Justin Hammer finally stopped, panting and drenched in sweat—clearly convinced he had just delivered the most epic performance in human history.
Still catching his breath, he grabbed the microphone with a grin far too wide—the kind of grin that made Pepper wonder if Hammer had been born to run a weapons company or to play the villain in a bad comedy film.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" he began, his voice booming with exaggerated patriotism, every syllable delivered like a climactic line from a blockbuster speech. "Tonight, I will show you the future! The future of American defense! A future that surpasses any armor known on this planet—even Tony Stark's armor, which, sadly, he has selfishly refused to share with our government!"
Pepper and Happy exchanged a glance that said everything: disbelief, frustration, and a desperate wish to vanish into thin air. Happy rubbed his face with both hands, trying to ease the pressure building inside him. Pepper rested her chin on her palms, elbows propped on her knees, staring at Hammer with an expression that could be read as either pure disgust—or a silent warning that his arrogance would blow up in his face sooner rather than later.
But at that moment, none of that mattered. All they could do was sit there, trapped, as Justin Hammer prepared to unveil his so-called technological "masterpiece," blissfully unaware of the tension weighing on the two in the front row.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the new face of the United States Armed Forces: the Hammer Drones!!"
The moment he finished, the stage floor split open, and rows of humanoid robots rose into view.
A metallic grinding echoed through the auditorium as the machines emerged, like an army of steel titans being unearthed. The floor trembled under their weight, and the audience gasped collectively—a mix of awe and dread.
Before them stood ranks of hulking figures, their bodies forged from metallic alloys gleaming under the Expo lights. They bore the shape of men, but none of the humanity of Tony Stark's creations. Their movements were stiff, mechanical, their "faces" replaced by a single narrow, glowing visor—dead glass eyes radiating nothing but artificial coldness.
Pepper's stomach churned. These weren't symbols of progress or a hopeful future—they radiated intimidation. Cold, soulless, inelegant. The contrast with Stark's suits was staggering: Iron Man embodied innovation and freedom, while the Hammer Drones exuded the aura of lifeless war machines.
Happy leaned forward, squinting.
"They look like… canned corpses."
Pepper didn't respond, but inwardly, she couldn't agree more.
Breathless yet radiant, Hammer lifted his arms in triumph, grinning like he'd just rewritten history.
"Behold, my friends! These are not the toys of an egocentric genius who only thinks of himself. These are the future of national security!"
As if to emphasize his words, he presented each division with a flourish, like a circus ringmaster showing off his latest act.
"First: the ground force, the unbreakable wall of the U.S. Army!"
One row stepped forward. They were the Army drones—bulkier, with reinforced shoulders and heavy armor plating. Each carried built-in machine guns and missile launchers. Their chests resembled steel vaults, and their sheer presence seemed to press the air flat.
"The seas will not go undefended!" Hammer continued. "Here are the guardians of our waters: the Navy drones!"
Another row advanced, distinguished by the bulky protrusions on their backs and weaponry suited for long-range bombardment. Cannons and rocket systems were mounted on their arms, every step resounding like a battleship in humanoid form.
"And the skies, my friends… the skies belong to the Air Force!"
From the third row, the Air Force drones raised their heads in unison. Sleeker than the others, they carried retractable stabilizers resembling wings, folded neatly against their backs and ready for flight. Even at rest, they radiated speed and relentless pursuit.
"And finally, but by no means least—the spearhead of America: the Marines drones!"
The last division emerged, a balance of strength and agility. They bore heavy machine guns and grenade launchers, their designs slightly leaner, their glowing visors fixed on the audience with an unsettling, lifeless stare.
With each new division, the audience broke into nervous applause—driven more by Hammer's bombastic patriotism than by genuine faith in the machines.
Pepper folded her arms and shook her head.
"This isn't the future," she muttered under her breath. "It's a nightmare painted red, white, and blue."
Happy leaned closer, hiding a smirk.
"Bet you anything Tony's going to hate this."
Pepper sighed. "He already does. That's why he didn't come."
Onstage, Hammer basked in the spotlight. His smile was as bright as the Expo lights, his eyes gleaming with delusions of victory. In his mind, he had finally surpassed Tony Stark. Finally beaten Iron Man.
But Pepper couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that these machines weren't just for show.
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(End of Chapter)
A/N: Yes, I know Justin Hammer's actual presentation happened at the Stark Expo. I just made this "Hammer Expo" joke for the fun of it.
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."