Henry raised an eyebrow at Tony's suddenly serious look.
"Oh? Really?" he said, half-teasing. "Planning a superhero inaugural speech? Or running for president? Heads up — your private life wouldn't survive the press, even if everyone already knows half of it."
Henry wasn't good at sentiment. He saw Tony like this and knew the other man had something heavy on his chest. Time in that Afghan cave had changed Tony, but to Henry he still read as the same arrogant older brother. Maybe that was his relentless drive to win. Still, Henry wouldn't give a warm, brotherly speech now; that wasn't his style.
He had plans of his own. Tony's reactor problem had to be fixed within days. He couldn't let his selfish, expensive brother keep dying. S.H.I.E.L.D. would need to be involved. The new element was in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hands; Henry planned to take it and remind that man who called the shots. With the serum stabilizing Tony for the moment, Henry wanted to operate within two days and remove the shrapnel. Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. were all parts of a bigger plan Henry had already mapped in his head.
Ethan watched quietly. Tony ignored the teasing, walked to the wine cabinet, poured three glasses, handed one to each of them, and sat down. He inhaled as if to prepare for something important.
"Come on, let's talk," Tony said.
Henry put away the smile and settled across from him, legs crossed, wine in hand. "All right. Make your speech touching. Move me to tears."
Tony tightened his fist. The strength in his hand made steel seem crushable. He looked at Henry with something like vulnerability and something like determination.
"Henry," he began, voice low. "I have to admit—this feels incredible. Like you said, like Superman. I can't imagine what it's like for you, being so much stronger."
He hesitated, then met Henry's eyes. "So… what now? What are our goals? We talked about 'superhero stuff' when Mark was ready, but that was entertainment. Before this, we were saviors in our own way. What do you want us to do next?"
Henry drank his wine slowly and set the glass down. He was calm, but his next words were sharp.
"I've always had a plan," he said. "I never told you because it wasn't time."
Tony blinked. "You have a plan? What grand plan? Are you secretly selling Stark Industries and buying an endless supply of cheeseburgers?"
"That's not a bad idea," Henry said dryly. "At least my plan beats your party plan."
He put down the glass, then looked at Tony and Ethan with a seriousness that carried weight.
"My plan is simple," Henry said. "Right now, it's about revenge. Revenge without mercy. I want to destroy Hydra and make sure they never show their faces again. And I want to find the person who killed our parents."
Tony froze. The words landed like a physical blow. For a moment he sat in stunned silence, then memory and anger rushed up.
"Murderer?" he echoed. "Mom and Dad—weren't they in a car accident?"
Henry finished his wine, set the glass down, and stared at him. "No. That was staged. I don't buy the 'car accident' story. Do you really think someone like Dad—one of the founders of an organization with access to dangerous secrets—died in a random crash?"
Tony's hands trembled. Images of Howard Stark flashed through his mind: distant, demanding, always choosing work over family. Anger and the old loneliness mixed with a new, cold realization.
Henry leaned forward. "This is what I learned from a dying man in a Hydra base. The person who killed our parents is codenamed the Winter Soldier. His real name is Bucky Barnes—Captain America's friend, someone who used to be close to our family."
He told them what he'd been told: how, decades ago, Bucky fell from a moving train on a mission with Captain America and was presumed dead. Hydra recovered him, fitted him with a metal arm, erased his memories, and turned him into a weapon—an unfeeling killer who only followed orders.
Henry's voice was flat when he finished. "I don't care if he was brainwashed. I don't care who he used to be. He killed our parents. I have to kill him. That's the only thing that matters."
Tony's chair scraped the floor as he pushed himself up. Rage flared—first confusion, then volcanic fury. Images snapped into place: secrets, threats, the ugly possibility that the people they trusted had been manipulated. Howard Stark as an obstacle to Hydra made sense in a way Tony had been too young to see.
"Who is he? Where is he?" Tony demanded. His voice was strained but controlled.
.