How best to describe the reporters' mood?
They were undoubtedly delighted—for the Stark brothers were their favorites.
Anytime they interviewed the two, there was bound to be explosive material.
Like just now. Already, they were imagining the praise and bonuses waiting for them once they got back to their editors.
The corridor behind the stage and the press hall were like two different worlds.
On one side, deafening uproar.
On the other, silence.
Pepper and Natasha stood by the doorway to the backstage, frozen, watching the two men stroll toward them with easy, unhurried steps.
Pepper felt as if her brain had crashed.
Her heart seemed ready to stop.
Life was wonderful, yes, but this was too much. Couldn't things be a little less extreme?
After all, who could understand her feelings? If your boss just announced war against the whole world—and expected you to charge forward with him—how would you feel?
"You two—"
She opened her mouth, only to find her throat dry, unable to form a single word.
She wanted to curse. She wanted to scream. She wanted to slap both of these bastards across the face.
But in the end, all her emotions dissolved into sheer exhaustion.
"Hey, Pepper."
Tony was the first to speak. He spread his arms wide in front of her, his face lit with a smug smile that screamed come admire me.
"So? Wasn't I absolutely dazzling out there? I bet you anything, tomorrow our stock price is going to skyrocket to a whole new level."
Pepper didn't return his embrace. She just stared at him like he was an alien.
"Oh, give me a break." Henry came over, taking one look at Pepper's soul-crushed expression before mercilessly roasting Tony.
"That wasn't dazzling, that was dumb. I'd guess what Pepper really wants to say is—do you have any idea how much trouble those words of yours just brought down on us? Right on target. In fact, I'd bet the old fossils at the Pentagon are already debating which model of nuke would be most appropriate for a humanitarian 'physical cleansing.'"
Pepper: …
"So what?" Tony shrugged, utterly unconcerned.
"Do you really think they'd dare? And even if they did—do you honestly believe their turtle-paced missiles could catch us?"
Tony was confident. Even without his abilities, his sheer wealth could reshuffle the Pentagon if he wished.
"They won't dare, but they'll swarm like flies, buzzing non-stop until you're ready to tear your hair out." Henry rolled his eyes.
"I can practically see it now—within a month, our front gate will be lined with black Chevrolets, crawling with men in cheap suits and sunglasses, paying us twenty-four-hour 'friendly visits.'"
Henry knew all too well how the Pentagon operated. But it didn't matter. If they came… well, then so be it.
"Perfect!" Tony's eyes lit up.
"I was just worrying about where to test my new weapons. If they really show up, I'll let them sample my 'Welcome to Stark Industries' micro-missile collection."
Pepper's temples throbbed as their carefree banter droned on.
Taking a deep breath, she summoned all her strength to find her voice again.
"Both of you—shut up!" she roared, her voice trembling with fury.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?! You're playing with fire! You'll drag all of Stark Industries into the abyss!"
"Oh, Pepper, don't be so dramatic." Henry stepped closer, patting her shoulder with a relaxed smile.
"Take it easy, breathe. You've got to trust us. We're Starks—when have we ever acted without a plan? And even if the sky really does fall, isn't that what Superman here is for? I didn't grow to six-foot-three for nothing, you know."
"Exactly." Tony nodded, then cocked a brow at Natasha.
"Miss Natalie, see this? That's our company culture. Always passionate, with just a pinch of family squabble. You'll get used to it."
Natasha's face remained the picture of professional charm.
But inside, her mind was racing.
These two men might look like reckless, lawless playboys—but every decision they made seemed calculated.
They were arrogant, yes. But they had the capital to be.
Unless, of course, you too could slap the Hulk unconscious.
"Alright, enough wasting time here." Henry glanced back at the press hall, still roaring with chaos.
"Those reporters are going to break through the security line any second now. And frankly, I have no interest in answering questions about what color Superman prefers for his underwear."
Just then, a neatly dressed man rounded the corner of the hall, blocking their path.
Phil Coulson.
Behind him stood several grim-faced S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, each looking like trouble.
"Mr. Stark. Mr. Henry." Coulson's tone was as polite as ever, but the usual warmth in his eyes had been replaced by weighty seriousness.
"I'd like to borrow a few minutes of your time for a talk."
"Well, well, look who it is." Tony was the first to speak, giving Coulson a once-over like he was an outdated antique.
"Isn't this Agent Coulson from the—what was it? National Homeland Something-Something Strategic Whatever Defense and Logistics Bureau? Don't tell me your jurisdiction has expanded to backstage press rooms now. Here to sell us insurance, or audit our taxes?"
"We're called S.H.I.E.L.D. now, Mr. Stark." Coulson kept his professional smile, as if unfazed by Tony's jab.
"And no, this isn't about insurance or taxes. What we need to discuss is far more serious."
His eyes flicked from Tony to Henry, his voice firm.
"Your statements at the press conference have already drawn attention from the highest levels. What you've done has exceeded all manageable limits. Publicly declaring your identities while dismissing government and law—this will unleash chaos and risks beyond calculation, for this nation and perhaps the entire world."
"Risks? Chaos?" Henry chuckled.
He strolled up to Coulson, his imposing height radiating invisible pressure.
"Agent Coulson, you've got it backwards."
"We're not creating risks. We're eliminating the risks you suit-wearers could never dream of handling."
He reached out and tapped Coulson lightly on the chest.
"And chaos? Please. Did you look at New York that night and call that order? If it weren't for us, you'd be busy explaining to Congress why half of Manhattan is rubble."
Coulson's lips twitched ever so slightly, but he forced himself to stay composed.
"We acknowledge your contributions, but—"
"No buts." Henry cut him off, his smile vanishing.
"Coulson, go back and tell your boss—the bald one—to remember his place. S.H.I.E.L.D. was one of Howard Stark's legacies, My father's and his friend's hardwork. It was built to protect this world, not to serve as a toy for power-hungry men who want to satisfy their need for control."
"Since when did my family's creation become something an outsider could lecture us about?"
His words exploded in the silent corridor like thunder.
Coulson's face drained of color.
He stared at Henry in disbelief, his mind blank.
He knew?!
That was top-level clearance information!
Alright, so they knew about the Avengers Initiative too…
"Enough. Conversation's over." Henry waved dismissively.
"If you came to congratulate us on a successful press conference, thanks. If you came to dictate orders on behalf of certain people, then kindly roll yourself right back out."
Without sparing Coulson another glance, Henry brushed past him.
Tony followed, shrugging. As he passed Coulson, he patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.
"Hey, don't take it too hard. My brother's always this blunt. But if you want my advice—tell your boss to consider a new hairstyle. You know, that shiny dome of his reflects way too much light at night."
With that, he strode off after Henry.
Leaving behind a stunned Coulson and a squad of bewildered S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, frozen in place.
***
we're close to 120 stones guys
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