"According to the company calendar, sir," JARVIS replied, "you were not."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Well then… let's crash the party."
He wiped the grease from his hands, glanced at the almost-complete Mark II armor standing in the chamber, then grinned. "Finish the paint job, J. Make it shine."
"Right away, sir," JARVIS responded smoothly as robotic arms unfolded to begin the final detailing.
Tony turned and grabbed a fresh blazer from the rack, slipping it on over his worn T-shirt with one smooth motion. He tossed a glance at the display showing Obadiah still talking on-screen, then rolled his eyes.
"Typical."
He strode out of the workshop, boots clicking against the metal flooring as he headed for the garage. The moment the doors slid open, one of his favorite cars—sleek, red, and purring quietly—was already waiting for him, courtesy of JARVIS.
Sliding into the driver's seat, Tony fastened the belt, pushed the accelerator, and smirked as the engine roared to life.
"Time to make an entrance."
With a flick of his hand, he toggled the autopilot off and slammed his foot down. The tires screeched as the car peeled out of the tower garage and shot into the Manhattan night, racing toward the venue like a guided missile wrapped in class and horsepower.
Neon lights blurred past as Tony weaved through late-evening traffic, wind in his hair, his mind already working through how dramatic—or petty—he wanted to be when he walked in.
As Tony sped through the city streets, the night lights gleamed against the polished hood of his car. It was the same model he'd driven back when everything began—sleek, powerful, and loud enough to turn heads. Pedestrians barely had time to react as the engine howled past them like a bolt of red lightning. Traffic bent around him, and even New York's notorious congestion seemed to part in deference.
Stark Industries Gala – Exterior
The event was in full swing. Elegant guests mingled near the large arched entrance lit by warm floodlights. A line of black-tie attendees stretched along the carpeted walkway, cameras flashing every few seconds as media covered the company's latest developments.
And then—
A loud vroom echoed down the street.
Tony's car pulled up with theatrical precision right in front of the venue. No valet. No pause.
He stepped out slowly, sunglasses still on despite the night, blazer sharp, and expression unreadable.
The murmurs began almost instantly:
"Is that Stark?"
"Didn't he skip the invite?"
"What's he doing here?"
Tony ignored all of it. He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, looked directly at the cameras—and then smirked.
Inside the Event Hall
Obadiah was still in the middle of a speech at the far end of the hall, standing on a small stage framed by banners and Stark Industries branding. He was talking about legacy, future, innovation—his voice smooth and commanding.
"…and thanks to our board's continued support, we're proud to announce a new direction for Stark Industries—one that honors the past, but looks toward the future of responsible technology—"
The doors opened loudly at the back of the room.
Tony walked in like he owned the place. Every head turned.
Obadiah faltered just slightly, his practiced rhythm skipping for half a second before he recovered.
"—and of course," he said, forcing a smile, "none of this would've been possible without the brilliant foundation laid by Tony Stark."
A light, polite clap followed. Tony gave the smallest mock-wave in return as he walked to the bar.
Alex, watching from the side with Colleen, Zephyra, and Sue, couldn't help but grin.
"Well," Alex murmured, "the party crasher's arrived."
Sue smirked. "He's got timing, I'll give him that."
Colleen nudged Zephyra. "Watch Stane's smile—it's cracking."
Tony didn't rush. He let the tension stretch as he ordered a drink and took his time before finally strolling toward the stage just as Obadiah was stepping down.
"Obie," he greeted casually, extending a hand.
Obadiah took it, the grip a little too tight. "Tony. I wasn't expecting you tonight."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Funny. I wasn't invited."
Obadiah chuckled smoothly, swirling the last of his wine. "Well, since you're here, go ahead and enjoy yourself."
Tony gave a slight nod, the smirk never quite reaching his eyes. "Don't mind if I do."
He turned away, weaving through the crowd with casual ease. The party was still buzzing with champagne chatter and soft jazz in the background, but more than a few eyes followed Tony's path—some in awe, others with concern.
Then he saw her.
Pepper Potts stood near the far side of the ballroom, speaking with a group of board members. She wore a sleek backless black dress, elegant but understated, paired with a low bun and her usual grace. When she noticed him approaching, her eyes widened for a second before a smile tugged at her lips.
"Tony," she said warmly.
"You clean up well," he said, eyes twinkling.
"So do you. Even when you're crashing your own company's event."
He leaned in slightly. "Yeah, well, I figured I'd at least show up and look pretty."
She chuckled but gave him a look. "You saw Obadiah on stage?"
"I did," Tony replied, the smile fading a little. "He's got a whole thing going. Talks about the future like he invented it."
Just then, Alex walked over, dressed in his sharp charcoal suit. He nodded at Tony. "You made quite the entrance."
Tony grinned. "Didn't want to miss the fireworks."
The soft murmur of conversation around them shifted slightly as a woman in a sharp blazer and heels approached them.
"Mr. Stark!" she called, weaving through the crowd.
Tony, still mid-conversation with Alex and Pepper, turned just enough to acknowledge her.
She smiled warmly. "You remember me, right? Elaina Foster, BusinessTech Weekly."
Tony blinked, tilting his head. "Ahh, yeah. You're the one who cornered me last month about the Jericho Missile."
She laughed. "Guilty. Though I believe you ditched me mid-question."
"Sounds like me," Tony smirked, glancing at Alex. "Was I charming or just evasive?"
"A bit of both," Elaina said, still smiling. "But this time, I've got something you won't want to dodge."
She pulled out a tablet and handed it to him, already queued to a report with redacted summaries and encrypted data points.
Tony frowned slightly, tapping the screen to scroll.
"What is this?" he asked, scanning through it.
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