At the same time, in Washington D.C., the main hall of the Senate Armed Services Committee was utterly silent.
Cameras recorded every gesture, every twitch, every glance. In the center of the witness table, Tony Stark leaned back comfortably in his chair, as if he were watching a late-night comedy show.
Senator Stern, chairman of the committee, frowned deeply and tapped his pen against the table in irritation.
TAP TAP TAP
"Mr. Stark, can we resume where we left off?" he asked in a stern tone.
Tony completely ignored him, turning instead to Pepper, who sat just behind him.
"Mr. Stark!" Stern's voice snapped sharply through the room.
The senator fixed his gaze on the billionaire. He wasn't going to let Tony leave that room without giving him what he wanted. No matter how arrogant the man was, today, he would make Stark yield.
If the government could get its hands on that technology, the United States military would be unstoppable.
"Go ahead, sweetheart, I'm all ears," Tony said mockingly, flashing a grin, as if the senator were just another talk show host.
A few muffled chuckles echoed through the hall. Stern inhaled deeply, trying to maintain composure.
"Can we continue, please?" he repeated.
"Of course," Tony replied casually.
"Do you, or do you not, possess a specialized weapon?"
"I do not."
"You don't?" Stern raised an eyebrow.
"No. Depends on your definition of a weapon."
"And what about the Iron Man armor?"
Tony rested his elbows on the table, wearing that infuriating half-smile.
"My device doesn't fit that description."
"Then how would you describe it?" Stern asked, visibly losing patience.
"I'd describe it for what it is," Tony paused. "A high-tech prosthesis."
The hall fell silent for a moment. Stern blinked, incredulous.
"A... prosthesis?"
"That's the most accurate term I can give you," Tony said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Stern leaned forward. "You call something that can fire energy cannons, fly, and unleash millions of joules of power... a prosthesis?"
Tony raised his brows. "Of course. A versatile prosthesis."
Stern slammed his pen on the table. "That's a weapon, Mr. Stark!"
Tony smirked. "Oh, please. If your priority were truly the citizens' well-being—"
"My priority," Stern interrupted, his voice rising, "is to place the Iron Man weapon in the hands of the American people!"
"Is that so?" Tony chuckled softly. "You can forget it."
The senator glared at him, taken aback. Tony leaned back in his chair.
"I am Iron Man. The suit and I are one. Handing over the armor would be handing over myself—which, depending on the state laws, falls under slavery, prostitution... or something worse."
He crossed his arms. "In other words: not happening."
Stern leaned forward again, his jaw tightening. "I'm not an expert—"
"In prostitution?" Tony cut in with a grin. "Of course not. You're a senator."
Laughter broke out across the hall, louder this time. Stern's face turned crimson.
"I meant I'm not an expert in weapons, Mr. Stark!"
"Oh, then I assume we do have someone here who is, right?" Tony replied, anticipating the next move.
Stern slammed his hand on the table. "Bring in Justin Hammer."
The doors opened, and a middle-aged man in a perfectly pressed suit strutted in with a rehearsed smile.
Tony sighed. "Here we go."
Hammer greeted the committee with exaggerated reverence.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it's an honor to be here. First, I'd like to pay tribute to Howard Stark — the father of modern military innovation…"
Tony rolled his eyes.
Hammer began displaying slides on the large screen.
"My company is also developing armored technology. We've had several successful tests, and with Mr. Stark's cooperation, we could—"
But before he could finish, the screen flickered and suddenly switched to footage of failed experiments — prototypes exploding, injured soldiers, and panicked screams.
The audience gasped in shock.
Tony raised an eyebrow and asked calmly, "Excuse me, Justin... are those men alright?"
Hammer turned pale. "Tony Stark! You're defaming me! Turn that off, now!"
"What?" Tony held up his phone innocently. "Wasn't me. Must be... a coincidence?"
Muffled laughter spread through the room. Furious, Hammer grabbed a chair and smashed the screen.
Tony stood up slowly, adjusted his jacket, and looked Stern straight in the eye.
"I am Iron Man. And you're not getting any of my tech."
Stern shot up, red with rage. "This is an outrage, Stark!"
Tony smirked.
"It's called freedom, senator. You people seem to hate it whenever you can't control it."
He turned, waved mockingly at the cameras, and walked out as reporters bombarded him with questions.
The flashes followed him down the hallway. Behind him, Stern was shouting something incoherent.
Tony shook his head, muttering under his breath:
"Just another normal day being me."
And with that, he left the Committee in flames — politically and figuratively.
Within hours, Tony Stark would be the number one headline across America.
---
Arthur's House
"So, Jean," Arthur asked with a teasing grin, lying back lazily on a poolside lounge chair. "Are you gonna tell me why you came here today, or are you just here to relax?"
The afternoon sun shimmered on the pool's surface, casting warm golden reflections that danced across his face. Jean, arms crossed, held her stern expression — though the slight twitch in her brow showed that his playful tone was starting to get on her nerves.
"Maybe both," she replied, glancing sideways. "But honestly, I doubt I can relax around someone as full of himself as you."
Arthur chuckled softly, adjusting his posture.
"Oh, so you admit you can't relax when I'm around? That's progress."
Jean sighed in exasperation. "You never change, do you?"
"Lose my charm? Not a chance. Women love me," he said, giving her a mock wink.
Jean rolled her eyes, though she couldn't suppress a faint smile. But before she could fire back, something shifted.
The air grew heavy. The soft breeze stopped completely, and the world seemed to freeze for a brief moment. The sound of the water vanished, and even the leaves of nearby trees hung motionless — as if time itself had stopped breathing.
Arthur noticed first. He sat up sharply, his gaze turning toward the source of the disturbance.
"...You felt that?" he asked quietly, his tone suddenly alert.
Jean frowned, tensing instinctively. "Yeah... something's wrong."
A golden glow began to form behind them, faint at first but quickly intensifying until it bathed the entire yard in radiant light. The space around it warped and twisted, as if reality itself were being torn open. A crackling sound followed — sharp and thunderous.
Suddenly, a swirling golden vortex exploded into existence, sending violent waves of energy in all directions. Jean stumbled back, shielding her eyes.
"Arthur, what the hell is that?!"
Arthur didn't answer. Instinct took over before thought could catch up. The vortex pulsed, and with a blinding flash, something was expelled from it — a small figure, hurled toward the ground as though space itself had spat it out.
Arthur moved instantly. He darted forward, catching the figure just before it hit the ground.
It was a little girl.
Tiny — maybe nine or ten years old. Her long crimson hair flowed like fire, and her delicate, peaceful face looked as if she were merely asleep.
Arthur stared at her, speechless. Something about the child struck him to the core.
Jean ran to his side, her pulse racing. "She... is she alive?"
Arthur nodded slowly, checking her breathing. "Yeah... just unconscious."
Jean knelt beside him, studying the girl's face. Then she froze. The shape of her eyes, her nose, her gentle features — all of it resembled Arthur.
"Wait a second…" she murmured, disbelief in her voice. "Arthur… she looks exactly like you."
Arthur stayed silent. The golden light from the fading vortex bathed them both, shimmering as it dissipated into tiny motes of light.
He looked down at the girl again, his heartbeat quickening. Everything about her felt... familiar.
Jean leaned closer, squinting. "But... her hair's red."
"Yeah," Arthur said, still dazed. "Only difference."
Jean raised an eyebrow, smirking.
"So... been having secret adventures lately, Mr. Casanova?"
Arthur turned to her slowly, expression blank.
"You're kidding, right?"
"I'm not. Look at her!" Jean pointed at the child sleeping in his arms. "The eyes, the chin, the shape of the face… it's like someone took your DNA, mixed it with some lucky redhead's, and grew her in a lab!"
Arthur sighed deeply, closing his eyes as if praying for patience.
"Jean, I'm twenty-two."
"So?"
"So, for her to be around ten, I'd have had to start my love life at... eleven or twelve."
Jean blinked once. Then twice.
And burst out laughing.
At first, it was just a chuckle — then full-blown hysterics echoing through the backyard.
Arthur kept a straight face, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Yeah, hilarious. Love how math trauma entertains you."
"No, wait—" Jean could barely breathe from laughing. "You? A teen dad! The terror of elementary schools! I can totally see it: little Arthur skipping class to pay child support!"
Arthur shot her an unimpressed look.
"You've got a cruel sense of humor, you know that?"
Jean wiped a tear from laughing so hard.
"Oh, come on! Even the universe is mocking you! A kid drops out of a magic portal and she's your mini-clone. It's like reality itself decided to troll you."
Arthur ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
"Fantastic. Another problem."
Jean, still giggling, added:
"If you want, I can be her godmother. I'll even teach her telekinesis before she turns twelve — gotta keep the tradition of starting early."
"Funny. Maybe that vortex spat her out just to punish me for laughing at Wolverine."
"Possible," Jean said, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at the girl. "But seriously… she's adorable. And if she is a younger, female version of you, the world's in trouble."
Arthur's tone shifted from playful to contemplative as he studied the child's face.
"If that's the case, I want to know who thought cloning me was a good idea."
Jean arched an eyebrow, smirking again.
"Maybe it was you — from the future. You grew up, had a daughter, and boom — she fell through time to remind you what an irresponsible idiot you were."
Arthur grimaced.
"My future self is a jerk."
Jean chuckled.
"At least he's consistent."
Arthur sighed. "Jean, if I had a daughter, I think I'd remember. That's not the kind of thing you forget between breakfast and lunch."
Jean's laughter softened, her tone gentler now.
"With you, Arthur? I don't rule anything out."
Arthur raised an eyebrow, feigning pride.
"Oh, so you admit I'm unpredictable."
Jean crossed her arms. "No. I admit the universe has a terrible sense of humor."
Arthur looked back down at the unconscious girl.
"Yeah… can't argue with that."
Jean leaned closer, smiling faintly.
"So, Daddy — you gonna tell Gwen, or should I?"
Arthur gave her a deadpan stare.
"Jean, if you keep this up, I swear I'm throwing you out through the gate."
"No promises," she said, laughing again.
---
(End of Chapter)
"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."