If there's one thing worse than being Tony Stark, it's being Tony Stark in a room full of people who expect you to be Tony Stark.
The boardroom smelled like money and blood. Not literally, but that was the vibe. Long polished table, city skyline glittering through the glass, and half a dozen men and women in suits that probably cost more than my entire college tuition. Their eyes flicked toward me as I walked in, equal parts reverence and suspicion.
Obadiah Stane sat at the head of the table, beaming that grandfatherly smile that didn't fool me for a second. I remembered his role in the movie. I remembered what he became.
"Tony," he said warmly, standing to clap a meaty hand on my shoulder. "Glad you could make it. Everyone here has questions, and I thought it best to address them directly."
Yeah. Questions. Like why I'd just tanked half the company's stock with one speech.
I slid into a chair, forcing the Stark-smile onto my face even though my palms were sweaty. "Fire away."
A woman in a sharp blue suit leaned forward first. "Mr. Stark, with all due respect, your unilateral decision to halt weapons production—"
"Unilateral?" I cut in, trying to mimic Tony's trademark flippancy. "Well, last I checked, my name's still on the building."
There were a few tight smiles. Not laughter. Just irritation disguised as civility.
Another man, glasses perched low on his nose, chimed in. "The announcement has rattled investors. We've already had calls from military contracts demanding clarification."
"Clarification?" I tilted my head, buying time. "Sure. Here's clarification: no more weapons. Effective immediately. We've been selling fireworks to people who don't exactly use them for Fourth of July barbecues."
Murmurs. Frowns. Obadiah chuckled, spreading his hands as if to calm the room. "What Tony's saying is that we'll be pivoting. A new era. Fresh innovations. He's… inspired."
I caught the way his eyes flicked at me. Warm on the outside, warning underneath. Play along, Tony. Don't spook them too much.
I forced a laugh. "Yeah, what he said. Inspiration. Think of it as… creative destruction. We'll build something better."
"Better than weapons?" one of them asked skeptically.
I leaned back, pretending confidence while my stomach twisted. "Energy. Technology. Clean solutions. Trust me, people are going to want what we're selling next."
The truth was, I had no idea what the hell I was saying. But Tony's memories — those blueprints in my head — whispered that it wasn't a lie.
Obadiah smoothly took over from there, easing their concerns with corporate platitudes. I nodded in the right places, threw in a sarcastic quip once or twice, and prayed nobody noticed how hard my heart was pounding.
When it finally ended, the board filed out, their whispers following them like a swarm of bees.
Obadiah stayed behind. He poured himself a drink, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "You really shook the tree today, Tony."
I forced a grin. "Sometimes the tree needs shaking."
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Just make sure the whole orchard doesn't fall on our heads."
---
Back in the Lab
The mansion felt safer. Familiar, even. But the safety was a lie, and I knew it.
The Mark I loomed from its display like a warning: you're only alive because you built me once.
I stripped down to a T-shirt and worked. Not for fun, not for distraction — but because the system, the memories, the pounding in my chest all told me I had to.
My hands moved with Stark's precision. Repulsor diagrams sprawled across digital blueprints, pieces coming together with alarming speed. I knew how to reroute power from the arc reactor, how to stabilize flight thrusters, how to balance weight distribution across the exoskeleton.
But knowledge didn't erase fear.
"What am I even doing?" I muttered, staring at the glowing gauntlet frame on the workbench. "I'm not supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to be him."
I slid the gauntlet onto my hand. The metal clicked, light humming to life. A charge built, thrumming against my palm.
Repulsor test. Just like in the movie.
"Okay… steady," I whispered, raising my hand. "Gentle push. Not too much—"
The blast fired, slamming me back into the wall with enough force to rattle the tools on the bench.
I groaned from the floor. "Ow. Okay. That's… accurate."
---
The door opened. "Tony?"
Pepper.
She stepped in, heels clicking, expression already exasperated. "You've been down here for twelve hours. Do you even remember what a bed looks like?"
I scrambled up, brushing dust off my shirt. "Just… working on something."
Her gaze slid to the repulsor gauntlet. "You're building… more weapons?"
"No," I said quickly. Too quickly.
She raised an eyebrow.
I sighed. "Not weapons. Something else. Something better. I don't know if it'll work, but… I have to try."
Pepper's eyes softened for just a second, then the walls came back up. "Well, whatever it is, don't kill yourself doing it. Someone has to keep this company from burning down while you play mad scientist."
I smiled faintly, even though it felt heavy. "I'll keep that in mind."
She lingered a moment longer, searching my face like she was looking for the man she knew. I wondered if she saw the cracks — the fear I couldn't hide.
Then she turned and left, heels fading down the hallway.
---
Spotlight
The next day, I was back in front of cameras. Not in the boardroom this time, but outside the mansion, reporters camped like vultures. Microphones shoved forward, questions shouted over each other.
"Mr. Stark, what's next for Stark Industries?"
"Are you abandoning your legacy?"
"What about your father's work?"
The flashes of light were blinding. I forced the Stark-smile again, answering with half-truths and vague reassurances. My voice sounded steady, but inside I felt hollow.
Because every smile, every handshake, every sound bite was just… noise.
I knew the real storm was coming. Loki. Ultron. Thanos. The Snap.
They cheered me like a savior, but I knew the ending.
And I didn't know if I could change it.
---
To be continued...