January 7, 2010 – Flushing Meadows, New York
The arena thrummed with anticipation.
Fifty thousand people packed the main pavilion, their voices blending into a singular roar of excitement that seemed to make the very air vibrate. Giant screens displayed the Stark Industries logo—that familiar angular S—while spotlights swept across the crowd in patterns choreographed to build tension.
In the VIP box, Arthur sat with his legs crossed, watching the spectacle with a faint smile. Beside him, Eileen clapped politely, while the children were significantly less restrained.
"Here he comes!" Elena shouted, pointing at the sky with barely contained excitement. "I see Uncle Tony!"
A golden streak tore through the fireworks, banking hard around the Unisphere. The Iron Man Mark IV descended with a deafening roar of repulsors, landing in the center of the stage with a superhero landing that cracked the specialized flooring.
Mechanical arms rose from the stage floor, dismantling the suit piece by piece as Tony Stark walked forward, revealing a impeccable tuxedo underneath. He spread his arms wide, soaking in the adulation.
"It's good to be back!" Tony shouted into the microphone, his charisma radiating like a physical force. "You missed me?"
The response was deafening. Arthur watched his friend spread his arms wide, basking in the adulation like a plant turning toward the sun. Say what you would about Tony Stark, and people said plenty, the man understood spectacle.
"I'm not saying that the world is enjoying its longest period of uninterrupted peace in years because of me," Tony said, pacing the stage with that manic, restless energy Arthur had come to recognize. "I'm not saying that from the ashes of captivity, never has a greater phoenix metaphor been personified in human history—"
"He really loves the sound of his own voice, doesn't he?" Pietro whispered to Wanda, leaning over the railing.
"Let him have it," Wanda replied, her eyes fixed on Tony. "He looks... tired."
Arthur glanced at Wanda. Her chaos magic made her sensitive to things others missed.
"It's not about me," Tony continued, his tone shifting. The bravado softened, his voice dropping into something quieter. More serious. "It's not about you. It's not even about us."
He paused, letting the silence stretch.
"It's about legacy. About what we leave behind."
The arena stilled.
"For the next year—and for the first time since 1974—the best and brightest minds from nations and corporations around the world will come together under one roof. They'll pool their resources. Share their vision. Put aside competition and borders and politics." Tony's voice grew stronger. "And together, they'll build something better than any of us could build alone."
Tony spread his hands wide.
"Welcome back to the Stark Expo."
The lights dimmed.
"And now," Tony added, stepping back, "making a special guest appearance from the great beyond to explain what it's all about—please welcome my father. Howard Stark."
Tony vanished into the wings as the old footage flickered to life on the massive screen.
—
"…the Stark Expo welcomes you—"
The video ended. Tony returned, standing still at the center of the stage.
"My father couldn't finish what he started," he said quietly, his voice carrying clearly in the hushed arena. "He ran out of time. Life has a way of doing that to you—cutting you off before you're ready, before you've said everything you wanted to say or built everything you dreamed of building."
He looked out at the crowd.
"But I didn't."
The screens behind him lit up again.
"The Stark Expo will run for one full year. Twelve months of the brightest minds on Earth coming together to show us what's possible. Twelve months of hope. Twelve months of tomorrow - today."
He smiled then, not the media smile, Arthur noted, but something more genuine. More vulnerable.
"Welcome to the future, everyone. Let's build it together."
The arena exploded with applause.
—
Later That Night – Hayes Residence, New York
The after-party had been loud, crowded, and superficial. Arthur had spirited them away as soon as politeness allowed, bringing Tony back to the Hayes family manor for a "quiet nightcap."
Now, the house was peaceful.
Through the open doors of the living room, Arthur could see the garden illuminated by soft enchanted lights that mimicked fireflies. Elena was laughing as she chased Tristan around the central fountain, their joy cutting through the night air like music. Eileen sat on a stone bench near the roses with Pepper, the two women talking quietly
Inside, the mood was different.
Tony stood by the fireplace, nursing a glass of scotch he hadn't taken a sip from in ten minutes. He was staring at the flames, his usual mask of arrogance stripped away to reveal a profound exhaustion.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
"Thank you for coming," Tony finally said. "I know you're busy. Secret investor stuff. Meetings. Whatever it is you actually do with your time."
"I wouldn't have missed it."
"Yeah, well." Tony swirled his untouched drink, watching the amber liquid catch the firelight. He still wasn't meeting Arthur's eyes. "It meant a lot. Having you there. Eileen and the kids. Felt like..." He trailed off, searching for words that didn't come easily to him. "I don't know. Family, I guess. The kind I never really had growing up."
Arthur said nothing, sensing there was more coming.
Tony took a long drink, then set his glass down with more force than necessary.
"My father was a bastard," he said quietly. "Brilliant, sure. Changed the world, absolutely. But as a dad?" He laughed, and there was no humor in it. "He was never there. And when he was, he was... distant. Cold. Like I was just another project that hadn't lived up to specifications."
"Tony—"
"Let me finish." Tony held up a hand. "I spent most of my life hating him for that. For making me feel like I was never good enough. For the way he'd look at Captain America's picture with more warmth than he ever showed me." His voice cracked slightly. "For dying before I could prove him wrong. Before I could show him I was worth something."
Silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant sound of waves.
"The Expo was his dream," Tony continued, his voice steadier now. "A world where technology makes things better instead of worse. Where we stop building weapons and start building futures. He never got to finish it. But I can. I will. Even if it's the last thing I do."
Arthur heard the weight in those words. The finality.
"That's why I need to ask you something," Tony said, finally meeting Arthur's eyes. "If something happens to me—"
"Planning your will already?" Arthur interrupted, keeping his tone light. "I thought you superheroes were supposed to be optimistic. All that 'saving the world' enthusiasm. Has the reality of the job's dangers finally sunk in, or is this just your usual dramatic flair?"
Tony's jaw tightened. "I'm serious, Arthur."
"So am I. You've been Iron Man for less than a year and you're already planning your legacy. What's next, picking out a burial plot? Composing your own eulogy? 'Here lies Tony Stark, who talked too much and flew too fast'?"
"Things happen," Tony said flatly. "People in my line of work don't tend to die of old age. I just want to make sure... if something goes wrong... that what I've built doesn't disappear. That I'm remembered for something more than weapons and scandals."
Arthur studied his friend for a long moment.
"Then you'd better plan everything yourself," he said finally. "Including your successor at Stark Industries. Because I won't manage it."
"Pepper will handle the company," Tony replied immediately. "I've been training her for months. She's ready. More than ready, honestly - she's been running things behind the scenes for years. I just made it official."
"Anything else?"
Tony hesitated. "I've been... preparing. Just in case. I created suits for everyone. The twins, your kids—obviously they're too young now, but I designed versions they could grow into. Smaller. Safer. With training protocols built in and AI assistants to keep them from doing anything too stupid." He attempted a smile that didn't quite land. "Figured if the worst happens, they should have something to remember their Uncle Tony by. Something more useful than a trust fund."
Arthur sighed, leaning his head back. "You planned everything, didn't you?"
"I've tried."
"Well, delete them," Arthur said, waving his hand dismissively. "I don't care. I'm too lazy to manage your legacy, Tony. Do it yourself."
Tony blinked. "What?"
"You heard me. Your legacy, your responsibility. I have no interest in becoming the executor of the Tony Stark Memorial Foundation, or whatever you're planning to call it."
"It's just in case something happens to me—"
"Then ensure nothing happens to you." Arthur's voice hardened slightly. "Because I won't leave you a backup option, Tony. If you die, I'm pulling my investment from Stark Industries entirely. All of it."
Tony's expression shifted from confusion to anger. "You would let the company collapse? Everything I've built?"
"In a heartbeat."
"Why?"
Arthur met his friend's furious gaze without flinching. "Because without you, without your mind, your vision, your impossible genius, Stark Industries is a lost cause. Pepper is brilliant, but she's not an inventor. She can manage what exists; she can't create what doesn't. The moment you're gone, the company starts dying. I'd simply be cutting my losses early."
"And here I thought you were my friend." Tony's voice was bitter. "That you'd honor my memory. Keep what I built alive."
"Some friend," Arthur replied coolly, "who still hasn't come clean about why he's doing all this."
The words landed like a physical blow.