"So, those self-righteous types thought they were hiring for world peace, but they let in something even more poisonous than Hydra—a cockroach that survived and thrived inside their own walls."
Tony's eyes widened as the implications clicked into place.
"You mean… they reorganized Hydra inside the SSR? And they've survived until now?"
"Congratulations, Tony, your brain finally remembered something besides women's measurements," Henry replied with a merciless sneer.
"That's right. Hydra's ghosts infested S.H.I.E.L.D., spreading like cancer. They got all the secrets, all the tech—and our cool Director Fury knows nothing.
If he actually figured out the organization he built to save the world was mostly Hydra moles, he'd be so pissed he'd want to go mad from anger."
Tony snorted at the dark humor, but his expression turned grim.
"So, you were kidnapped by those rats in the shadows? Forced to eat canned cockroaches and used as a guinea pig for colorful serums?"
"That's about the shape of it," Henry said, shrugging with studied indifference.
"But do you think I'm that easy to break? I just played along. Honestly, without them I never would've learned I could become a Superman. In a way, I owe them."
"Thank them? Did the serum fry your brain?" Tony scoffed.
"You should hunt them down and tear their heads off with my Mark Armor—see how they like it."
"Oh, I will. Don't worry." Henry's smile vanished, replaced by glacial resolve.
"This is the rot of the world. The day I'm strong enough that not even nuclear weapons can touch me, I'll wipe every last one out."
Tony's eyebrow rose.
"In that case, you better hurry—by the time I finish building Mark 100, you'll still be chasing shadows."
"We'll see. At least I don't need to clank around in a tin can," Henry replied.
The tension dissolved into wry smiles and sibling banter.
"Enough history class." Henry shut off the holographic display and poured himself more wine.
"Back to business."
Tony shot a glance upstairs, a familiar smirk reappearing.
"You're right. We've got important duties—mainly saving two beautiful ladies from a dull night."
They exchanged a knowing look and headed up together.
On the third-floor pool deck, Elena and Jenna were stretched out in bikinis, enjoying the mild California night breeze.
As Henry and Tony appeared, the women sat up, sipping cocktails.
"Done with your family business?" Elena teased, eyebrow raised.
"Of course," Henry said, smoothly sitting beside her and grabbing a chilled bottle of champagne.
He popped the cork, filling the night air with its happy fizz.
"We were just having a passionate academic debate about saving the world. In the end, we decided that could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, more pressing matters take priority."
He poured for Elena and himself, raising his glass.
"Like the philosophy of life—best discussed with company as exceptional as yours."
Elena grinned at his straight-faced nonsense, clinking her glass with his.
"I'd love to hear your philosophy, Mr. Stark."
Henry leaned close, voice low and warm by her ear.
"Enjoy life, every chance you get. You never know if tomorrow comes—or if an alien invasion gets you first."
The line made her shiver.
She turned to look him in the eye, seeing something shadowed and magnetic.
She knew this man wasn't just cynicism—he was strong, mysterious, and irresistibly drawn to the dangerous edge of existence.
"Are you joking about the alien bit?" she asked, half pushing.
He only smiled, tucking a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear; his touch sent a shiver through her.
"What do you think?" he replied.
She smiled back, emboldened.
"I think you're a talented storyteller. But is there a heroine in Henry Stark's legend?"
He matched her smile, gaze suddenly heated.
"There are too many to count. The question is, do you want to be tonight's?"
Henry didn't wait for an answer. He kissed her, first sudden, then fervent.
The air turned heady with champagne and the scent of the Pacific's breeze.
Elena's initial shock faded into enthusiasm; emboldened, she returned every touch and taste.
Breaths quickened. Hands wandered. Their mutual desire was palpable, impossible to ignore.
"My room… or here?" he managed between kisses, voice hoarse.
"Yours." Her tone was daring and breathless.
"Let's see what wonders a superhero's bedroom holds."
Henry laughed, strong arms sweeping her up effortlessly. He carried her past the moonlit glass onto a bed with views of ocean and starlight.
He gazed down—she didn't shrink, but gazed up, self-assured and thrilled.
"Are you ready for evolution?" he whispered.
Then he welcomed her to the long, wild night beyond.
When morning light spilled across the Pacific, Henry opened his eyes. The pillow beside him was empty, save for a lipstick and a chicly written note.
"Last night's story was outstanding. I look forward to the sequel. But next time, your appearance fee's going up, Mr. Superhero."
Henry let out a soft laugh, fingering the lipstick.
"What an interesting woman," he mused.
He stretched, feeling a satisfied ache of energy.
Saving Tony had been exhausting—occasionally, he decided, intensive "recovery training" was absolutely necessary.