Arthur's Temporary Office, Stark Industries West Coast HQ
Arthur surveyed the temporary office, now mostly packed into neat boxes. The Stark Tower, visible through the window, still bore the scars of the battle but buzzed with reconstruction activity. His work here was done. Project Phoenix was complete, Stark Industries secure. Time to return to New York.
He was sealing the last box when the door opened. Pepper Potts stood there, holding two coffee cups.
"Last box?" she asked, offering him a cup. "Running out on us already, Arthur?"
"My work here is concluded, Pepper," Arthur replied. "The transition team is in place... and Tony legally owns everything here but the air he breathes."
"He offered you Head of Legal again, didn't he?" Pepper leaned against the doorframe. "Said you turned him down."
"My skillset is better utilized in a more... flexible capacity," Arthur said diplomatically."Being head of a corporate department involves administrative burdens I prefer to avoid.
Pepper managed a small smile. "So, you'll still be around? For Tony?"
"And you," Arthur confirmed. "Whenever he or you require my assistance, I'll be available. Just not on the Stark Industries payroll." He picked up his briefcase. "My flight leaves in three hours."
"You're not staying for the press conference?" Pepper asked, surprised. "Tony's about to feed the official story to the wolves. Your story, mostly."
Arthur paused at the door, a knowing, almost weary look in his eyes. "Pepper, I have spent the last several months mitigating the consequences of Tony Stark's impulsive actions. Call it intuition, but I suspect adhering to Agent Coulson's and my carefully crafted script isn't exactly Tony's style." He gave a small, dry smile. "Frankly, I'd rather not be in the immediate vicinity when he decides to improvise. The resulting legal fires are easier to manage from a distance."
Pepper frowned. "What do you mean? He agreed to the alibi."
"Tony agrees to many things," Arthur said cryptically. "Following through is another matter entirely. You'll see." He offered a final, respectful nod. "Take care, Pepper. Keep him out of trouble, if you can." He walked out, leaving her looking thoughtfully after him.
Stark Industries Press Auditorium
The air crackled with anticipation. The press auditorium, hastily repaired after the battle's collateral damage, was packed wall-to-wall with reporters, cameras flashing, microphones jostling for position. The news of Obadiah Stane's death during the "reactor accident" and Tony Stark's subsequent full consolidation of the company had fueled a media frenzy. This press conference was the event of the season.
Backstage, Tony Stark fiddled with his tie, ignoring the index cards Agent Coulson had provided. Rhodey looked tense. Pepper offered Tony a strained smile.
Agent Coulson entered the green room, flanked by two other SHIELD agents.
"Mr. Stark," Coulson began, his tone polite but firm. "Just wanted to provide the finalized statement regarding the incident." He opened the folder.
"Concise, consistent with the agreed-upon narrative. Covers all the key points – reactor malfunction, Stane's heroic sacrifice, the unfortunate activation and loss of the experimental bodyguard prototype..." He gave Tony a pointed look. "Just stick to the script. It minimizes complications for everyone."
Tony took the cards, glancing at them dismissively before stuffing them into his jacket pocket. "Right. Bodyguard. Tragic loss. Got it. Thanks, Phil."
Coulson's eye twitched almost imperceptibly at the casual use of his first name. "The press is ready, Mr. Stark. We recommend keeping it brief."
"Showtime," Tony muttered, straightening his tie. He gave Pepper a quick, reassuring nod, ignored Rhodey's worried frown.
Tony walked onto the stage to a blinding storm of camera flashes and shouted questions. He approached the podium, the Stark Industries logo gleaming behind him.
"Been a while," Tony began, his voice amplified, cutting through the noise. He held up a hand, silencing the room. "I know there's been a lot of speculation regarding the events of the past few weeks." He paused, looking out at the sea of expectant faces.
"The official statement," he pulled the index cards from his pocket, holding them up, "is that the incident at Stark Industries was caused by a reactor malfunction during..." He trailed off, looking down at the cards as if seeing them for the first time.
He flipped through them, his expression shifting from practiced confidence to something thoughtful, almost rebellious. He looked up again, meeting the gaze of Christine Everhart in the front row. He saw the skepticism in her eyes.
He crumpled the index cards in his fist.
A murmur went through the crowd. Backstage, Pepper's eyes widened. Rhodey swore under his breath. Coulson remained impassive, but his posture stiffened slightly.
"There's been speculation that I was involved in the events that took place on the freeway and the rooftop..." Tony continued, a slow, familiar smirk returning to his face.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," Christine Everhart called out, seizing the moment. "Do you honestly expect us to believe that was a bodyguard in a suit that conveniently appeared after you said you were closing the weapons division? And that his current status is 'unconfirmed'?"
Tony looked directly at her, his smirk faltering slightly, replaced by a challenging glint in his eyes. "Look, I know that it's confusing. It is one thing to question the official story, and another thing entirely to make wild accusations, or insinuate that I'm a superhero."
"I never said you were a superhero," Christine countered immediately, her voice sharp.
"Didn't you?" Tony shot back, raising an eyebrow. He looked around the room, seeing the same question reflected in every face, every camera lens. The carefully constructed alibi, the plausible deniability... it felt thin, pointless. Fake. He took a deep breath.
"The truth is..." he leaned into the microphone, the words clear, resonant, and utterly world-changing.
"...I am Iron Man."
Chaos erupted. Shouted questions, blinding flashes, reporters scrambling. Backstage, Pepper closed her eyes, letting out a long, shaky breath. Rhodey just stared at the monitor, shaking his head in weary resignation. Coulson allowed himself a small, almost imperceptible sigh, already calculating the new operational parameters.
Earl's Bar, Hell's Kitchen, New York
Arthur sat at his usual spot at the worn wooden bar, a glass of scotch beside him. The small television mounted in the corner was tuned to GNN, broadcasting the Stark press conference live. The bar was moderately busy, the low murmur of conversation occasionally punctuated by reactions to the screen.
Arthur watched intently as Tony walked onto the stage, noting the subtle tension beneath the usual swagger. He saw him pull out the cards, then crumple them. A clinical, almost imperceptible smile touched Arthur's lips. Predictable.
Then came the final words: "...I am Iron Man."
The bar fell silent for a stunned second, then erupted.
"No way!"
"Did he just say...?"
"Holy crap!"
Whispers turned to excited chatter, confusion mixing with disbelief.
Earl, wiping down the counter beside Arthur, leaned in. "You knew about this, didn't ya?"
Arthur took a slow sip of his scotch, eyes still fixed on the chaotic scene unfolding on the TV. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Earl."
"Don't bullshit me, Arthur," Earl grumbled good-naturedly. " There is no way you didn't know. You work for the guy, right?"
Arthur finally turned from the screen, draining his glass in one smooth motion. He looked at Earl, then back at the TV where Tony was being mobbed. A weary, almost fond exasperation crossed his face. "That I do, Earl," he murmured. "That I do. Crazy bastard."
He signaled for another drink just as a low voice spoke directly beside his ear, cutting through the bar noise.
"So. Project Phoenix. Hell of a stunt you pulled off, Counselor."
Arthur didn't startle, but his posture went still for a fraction of a second before he turned slowly on his stool. Nick Fury stood there, clad in his signature black leather trench coat, an eyepatch stark against his dark skin. He looked entirely inconspicuous and simultaneously commanded the space around him.
Fury gestured towards the TV with his chin. "Man's got flair. Causes a mess though." His one good eye fixed on Arthur, sharp and analytical. "Takes someone sharp to clean up after him. Someone who can dismantle a board of directors without leaving fingerprints. Someone who knows how to leverage chaos." He gave a wry, almost approving smirk. "Impressive work."
Arthur offered no sign of recognition.
"I'm sorry," Arthur said, his tone polite but guarded. "Have we met?"
The man gave a wry, almost invisible smirk. "Not formally. Let's just say I have an interest in people who operate with... surgical precision. Especially when high-stakes corporate warfare is involved."
Arthur simply held the man's gaze, offering nothing. "Ensuring client stability often requires comprehensive strategies."
"Comprehensive," the man echoed, nodding slowly. "Like having the means to quietly buy out shell companies? Or perhaps influencing media narratives to apply pressure exactly where it's needed? Like dismantling a hostile board? Orchestrating a corporate takeover from the inside while simultaneously managing the fallout from... flying metal suits?" He paused, letting the implication hang. "Some might call that operating outside the lines, Counselor."
"Others might call it effective representation," Arthur countered smoothly, taking a deliberate sip of his fresh scotch. "Are you with an agency? SEC? FBI?"
The man chuckled softly, a dry rasp. "Something like that. We deal with... bigger picture problems." He gestured towards the TV, where the 'I AM IRON MAN' headline was now plastered everywhere. "Your client just painted a rather large target on his back. And yours, potentially. Your client just blew his cover story sky-high. Things are about to get a lot more complicated. World's filling up with people playing dress-up, flying metal suits... causes headaches for people like me."
"I imagine it does," Arthur conceded neutrally.
"Nick Fury. Director of SHIELD." He gestured vaguely towards the door, as if his credentials should be obvious. "Agent Coulson speaks highly of you. Says you're... resourceful. Particularly when it comes to managing Mr. Stark's unique brand of chaos."
"SHIELD could use a man with your particular talents," Fury continued, getting to the point. "Strategic mind, operates in the gray, understands the bigger picture... and apparently, has access to significant private funding." He gestured vaguely. "We offer resources, reach... stability. A chance to shape things on a global scale, not just clean up after one billionaire's messes."
Arthur considered the veiled offer. Fury radiated competence, danger, and access. But also bureaucracy, oversight, control. "Director," Arthur said politely but firmly, setting his glass down. "I appreciate the sentiment, and Agent Coulson's confidence. I find independent practice offers the flexibility required to best serve my diverse... and often unpredictable... needs."
Fury studied him for another long moment, assessing. He seemed to accept the refusal without offense, perhaps even anticipating it. "Fair enough," Fury grunted. "Independence has its uses. Until it doesn't." He pushed himself off the bar slightly. "But the world's changing, Counselor. Faster than most people realize. Whether you're on a payroll or playing your own game," his eye held Arthur's, sharp and knowing, "you're in it now. Deep." He gave a curt nod. "Stay sharp. We'll be seeing each other around."
"Wait, Director..."Fury stopped and smirked at the predicted response, he had his man.
"Do you know someone named Tobi?"Arthur asked.
"Tobi?" Fury asked unsure of what Arthur was talking about.
"Yes, I have a client named Tobi, says he hates a bald one eyed Pirate, who wants to mess with other people's business... thought you two had a beef or something." Arthur shrugged, trying not to laugh inside while maintaining a nonchalant expression.
"No, I don't recall having problems with anyone like that." Fury said a bit lost as to what was going on, but he still paged someone to dig up the name,could not be careless if someone can discribe him,even if not entirely accurate.
"Ok nevermind, might be someone else then. Thank you for your visit Director Fury."
And just like that, Nick Fury turned and melted back into the bar's shadows, leaving Arthur alone with his drink, the lingering scent of leather and secrets, and the noisy aftermath of Tony Stark's world-changing announcement still blaring from the television.
New York City Streets, Late Night (Minutes Later)
Arthur's black Bentley sliced silently through the late-night streets, the city a blur of neon and shadow. His phone buzzed – Pepper. He tapped the hands-free control, a small smile playing on his lips already.
"Okay," Pepper's voice came through, somehow both exhausted and wired. "You win. You totally called it. Are you seeing this madness?"
Arthur chuckled softly, guiding the car smoothly around a corner. "Let me guess. Tony went off-script?"
"Off-script? Arthur, he took the script, crumpled it up, and then basically told the entire planet 'I am Iron Man'! Coulson looked like he swallowed his own earpiece. The phone lines are exploding. I've got senators, generals, probably the freaking Pope calling..."
"Deep breaths, Pepper," Arthur advised, his tone calm but friendly now, the 'lawyer mode' switched off. "Expected turbulence. I figured he wouldn't be able to resist. Did you see his face? He was practically glowing."
"Glowing? He just put himself, the company, probably us on every watchlist imaginable!" she countered, though the panic was fading, replaced by exasperation. "How is this manageable?"
"It's Tony," Arthur said simply, as if that explained everything. "Look, the initial shockwave will be rough, but it changes the game in our favor too. Public figure, accountability... harder for governments to just make him'disappear' now. Plus," he added pragmatically, "think of the branding opportunities."
Pepper groaned. "Only you would find a silver lining in geopolitical chaos. What do we do, Arthur?"
"We manage it," he replied calmly. "I've already got templates drafted for SEC disclosures, DoD liaison memos... the works. It's just noise, Pepper. Loud, annoying noise, but manageable." He turned onto a nearly deserted side street near his building. "I'm almost home. Let me pull the specific contingency file for 'Client Announces Vigilante Alter Ego Publicly' – yes, I actually made one – and I'll call you back in twenty wit—"
CRUNCH. The sound was deafening, sickening, as something impossibly heavy slammed onto the roof, buckling the reinforced metal. The call with Pepper cut off with a burst of static and a sharp cry from her end before the line went dead.
Before the echo faded, the passenger window exploded inwards. Glass sprayed across the leather interior. A figure dropped into the seat beside him – tactical gear, mask, goggles reflecting the dashboard's glow, and a left arm of gleaming, segmented metal.
No... No, no, no! He shouldn't be here! Not now! Years too early! Ice flooded Arthur's veins. Every strategic calculation, every timeline projection shattered. HYDRA. The Winter Soldier.
Forget analysis. Escape. Now.
He slammed the gearshift into reverse, stomping the accelerator. The engine roared, tires spitting gravel—SCREEECH! The car lurched, then stopped dead, held fast. What the—? A sickening screech of tortured metal – the Soldier's bionic hand had punched through the dash, gripping the transmission linkage, crushing it.
Arthur didn't hesitate. He shoved his door open, throwing himself out onto the cold asphalt, adrenaline screaming RUN!
He scrambled, trying to get his feet under him, pavement scraping his palms. A shadow fell over him. The Soldier was already out, moving with a terrifying, silent swiftness. A heavy boot slammed onto his back, pinning him, driving the air from his lungs in a sharp, agonizing whoosh. Can't breathe! Too strong! Pain flared, bright and blinding.
,
Panic clawed at his throat, raw and primal. He twisted, bucking uselessly against the crushing weight. His Tier 2 strength felt like a child fighting a hydraulic press. He heard the faint whirring of servos, unnervingly close to his ear. Move! Get away! He desperately reached back, fumbling under his jacket for the disorienting emitter – his only non-lethal option, maybe it would buy a second—
CRACK! Metal fingers, inhumanly strong, clamped down on his wrist. Bones grated together. A raw scream tore from Arthur's throat, drowned out by the pain. The emitter skittered across the asphalt, just out of reach. No!
The Soldier released his wrist only to grab him by the collar, hauling him up like a sack of potatoes, slamming him hard against the side of the Bentley. Arthur's head snapped back against the window frame, stars exploding behind his eyes. He sagged, vision blurring, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth. Think! Strategy! There has to be...!
Through the haze, he saw the Soldier draw a pistol. The movement was fluid, economical, utterly devoid of wasted motion. Cold, lethal intent radiated from the figure. The barrel aimed squarely at his chest. Arthur tried to push away, a final, panicked surge of adrenaline, but the metal hand clamped onto his shoulder like a vise, holding him fast.
He stared into the dark goggles, searching for any flicker of humanity, seeing only his own terrified reflection superimposed on the blank, implacable mask. This was it. No negotiation. No leverage. Just termination.
A single, deafening shot.
White-hot agony ripped through his chest. The impact threw him back against the car before the metal hand released him. He felt the tearing, the sudden, impossible void where his heart should be. A choked gasp escaped his lips. He slid down the side of the car, leaving a bright crimson smear on the black paintwork, collapsing onto the pavement in a broken heap.
The world tilted, sounds blurring into a dull, underwater roar. Cold seeped up from the asphalt, a chilling finality. Darkness crowded the edges of his vision. What happened to Timeline Correction?
Not supposed to happen...System...?
Didn't... plan for this...Sys...
As the last flicker of consciousness dissolved, a frantic, blaring alarm screamed through the collapsing architecture of his mind.
[SYSTEM ALERT: HOST CONDITION CRITICAL.]
[VITAL SIGNS: CESSATION IMMINENT. CATASTROPHIC CARDIAC TRAUMA.]
[INITIATING EMERGENCY HEALING PROTOCOLS. MAX POWER OUTPUT.]
[ERROR: HEALING PROTOCOLS FAILING. ANOMALY DETECTED IN SYSTEM BIO-SIGNATURE.]
[REVIVAL ATTEMPT 1: FAILED. REVIVAL ATTEMPT 2: FAILED.]
[SYSTEM DIAGNOSTIC: UNABLE TO ENGAGE AUTONOMIC REGENERATION. CAUSE: UNKNOWN ANOMALY INTERFERENCE.]
[INITIATING DEEP SYSTEM SCAN. TARGET: ANOMALY.]
[SCANNING... SCANNING... ERROR: UNRECOGNIZED TEMPORAL SIGNATURE DETECTED.]
[RE-SCANNING AT QUANTUM LEVEL... RE-SCANNING... FAILURE TO ISOLATE ORIGIN.]
[CRITICAL ERROR: ANOMALY IS SHIELDED BY NON-LINEAR TEMPORAL FIELD. EXTERNAL MANIPULATION CONFIRMED.]
[CROSS-REFERENCING TEMPORAL SIGNATURE AGAINST KNOWN COSMIC ENTITIES...]
[SIGNATURE MATCH FOUND — VARIANT SIGNATURE: 'HE WHO REMAINS'.]
____________________________
ARC 1 COMPLETE
____________________________
A/N.
BOOM !!!! What? You didn't see that coming?
HAHAHA...HAAH.. HAHAHA...
Anyway l will see you after one month...
Just kidding folks, I was building up to this moment throughout the entire Arc, I left hints and foreshadowing about it as well.
I had to control my self so much from giving it away, after sees a particular review and a few comments, Damn..!! HAVE SOME PATIENCE PEOPLE..!!!!
I swear at one point I wanted to scrap the entire thing and drop the fic because of how much I overreacted after that. But no I am going to finish this this fic even if I am backlisted.
I swear I will start posting chapters in the comments section of other novels if I have to.
Anyways let me know, if you can guess what I am about to do next, and tell me in the comments of you can find the hints I left.
I will post the next chapter after a 4 day break as I am spent and mentally drained at this point, I don't want to put out half assed writing. And also want you to Enjoy the Cliffhanger.