Chapter Text
Three hours after the press conference where Tony announced that he was Iron Man, a meeting had been scheduled in Stark Tower. Near the office where it was to take place, a small number of people had already gathered. Some of the newcomers to the company looked around with surprise and a hint of admiration at the glass walls and the view of the city beyond them.
None of them wanted to draw the attention of the brothers already sitting at the table. The two looked far too focused on something, and in such moments, touching even one of them could easily result in being hit by the nearest object not bolted to the floor.
The elder Stark, as usual, sat at the head of the table, his attention fixed on several folders—one in his hands, the rest spread across the large glass surface in a pattern only he seemed to understand. His face, animated by the movement of his brows, betrayed concentration, mild tension, and vivid emotion at what he was reading. The elegant suit, which Stark wore almost constantly despite his reputation as a reckless genius, seemed particularly fitting today.
Green, sitting to his brother’s right, appeared far more relaxed, though thoughtful. The sight of the mage could both mesmerize and intimidate anyone who looked at him. It was emphasized by the powerful aura emanating from him—for even if it wasn’t visible, anyone who spent more than a few minutes nearby could feel a twinge of danger, a subtle unease, and the sense that space itself twisted around him.
Breaking away from his own thoughts, Green folded his arms across his chest and patiently waited for his brother to raise his head and give him some attention.
A few seconds later, he realized they had probably been sitting there for too long, and after ordering JARVIS to postpone the meeting slightly, he addressed Tony mentally: «So, what’s our next move?» He knew the room might have listening devices installed and preferred this form of communication. His manner of speaking was fluid and laced with a touch of irony that lent refinement to his words. More than once, Anthony had joked that he must have been an aristocrat in a past life. “Past life” was what they sometimes called the period before Green lost his memory, though they usually avoided speaking of it at all.
Tony set the papers aside and looked at his brother; his face showed firm resolve despite deep exhaustion.
“Thanks to Pepper, I already have the names of the traitors and their clients who obtained my weapons illegally,” he began in a serious tone, running his finger along the edge of the table. “First, I’ll track down the clients and destroy everything they bought. Then I’ll gather the evidence and put their dealers behind bars.”
Green nodded thoughtfully, his eyes glinting in the light pouring through the window. He waited to see if Tony would add anything else, then, after a few seconds of consideration, replied.
“Excellent. But you’ll have to fire a lot of people, and that’ll hit the company’s reputation hard. I doubt the board of directors will approve of your decision. Also, your new policy—‘Stark Industries no longer produces weapons’—will likely be rejected. They might turn against you.”
“The list includes the names of nearly every board member,” Tony said coolly with a shrug. “Of course they don’t like the new policy. Let them complain all they want—from behind bars.”
As if unaware of possible consequences, Stark spoke with a steady confidence that reflected his inner strength and determination.
Green, watching his brother, couldn’t help but admire his courage and resolve. The atmosphere of the room, despite its cold and strict appearance, became a reflection of their shared drive for justice and their determination to change the world despite the challenges ahead.
“Well, that’s hardly surprising. Militants have to get their weapons from somewhere,” Green remarked after a short pause. “But, why destroy them? I can store everything in my pocket.”
“Why?” Tony asked, then swore softly when he heard his own voice. “Still can’t get used to this…”
When the man didn’t immediately catch his meaning, the mage continued calmly:
“You were the one who asked me not to show magic,” he said with a casual shrug, his expression impassive. “But I’m not going to sweat inside that armor or sit back while you fight. So during battles, to divert attention, I’ll use firearms. And I’m not taking any objections, Tony!” he warned, catching the disapproving look from his brother.
“But you have no experience!” Stark argued aloud, his voice full of concern and anxiety.
“So what! How am I supposed to get any if I don’t try to help you? I’ll gain it the practical way!” Green replied with a hint of mockery, his eyes sparkling with confidence.
“You could get seriously hurt!” the billionaire insisted, worry etched across his face. He already knew he would lose this argument, but he had to try.
“For heaven’s sake, Tony, don’t forget I’m a mage!” Green snapped mentally, his voice sharper now but still under control. “The only ones who might get seriously hurt in a fight with me are my enemies!”
Tony couldn’t help but roll his eyes, trying to suppress the laughter that burst from his chest—first as a snort, then a cough, and finally full, contagious laughter. It was so genuine he had to wipe away tears.
“Another piece of evidence for your Stark bloodline, Green. You’ve just proven you’re a true ram, like every Stark. That kind of stubbornness and arrogance runs in the family,” Tony said, standing up and walking toward his brother. “Fine, have it your way. Take all the weapons for yourself.”
Green nodded, his face lighting up with satisfaction, pride, and almost childlike joy at being able to help his brother.
But they had to quickly return to business—time was still limited.
“You should upgrade your armor,” the younger continued, his tone practical. “So you don’t have to run to the workshop every time.”
“And what do you suggest?” the billionaire asked, one brow raised in curiosity.
“Make it so it can attach itself to you without robotic assistants,” the mage proposed, his eyes alight with the idea. “Ideally, it could fold into a briefcase you can carry with you. And you could further enhance it with runes. Combine magic and technology—we’ll create the perfect armor.”
“Interesting idea,” the elder agreed, then added after a moment, “but such a briefcase would be too heavy.”
“That’s not a problem,” the mage replied, his expression calm and confident. “It’ll be in my pocket. You’ll carry a decoy. When the time comes, I’ll switch them, and no one will notice a thing.”
“Useful to have a pocket like that,” Tony admitted, his voice filled with admiration. “I’d love to have one myself.”
“I’ll try to come up with something,” Green promised, a faint smile crossing his lips.
Tony looked like a child promised a long-awaited gift. His eyes shone with happiness, and he couldn’t hide his excitement.
“Y-you’ll really do that?” the genius asked, disbelief mixed with hope in his voice.
“I’ve got a few ideas, but I’ll need time,” Green replied. JARVIS signaled that the meeting would soon begin, informing them he had taken the liberty of selecting another room for it. With light irony, the mage added, “And you’d better get going.”
“Not you—us!” the man corrected with his signature playful grin.
“And why, may I ask, Mister Stark, should I be there?” Green stood, arms crossed, his tone polite yet teasing.
“Why? You’re a Stark too! Or have you forgotten?” the billionaire said in mock surprise.
“Besides, I need to show those vultures I’m no longer on my own—that I’ve got someone to stand by me.”
“Hah, I can already picture them trembling before a guy who just turned ‘eighteen,’” Green rolled his eyes. “Or do you want me to threaten them with magic?”
“They’ll only need to know that even if they kill me, they won’t gain control of the company—because I’ve already got you,” Tony replied, his voice full of confidence and support.
“They wouldn’t dare kill you,” the brunette reminded him, his expression serious. “At least not while I’m alive.”
“I know, I know!” the man smiled, wrapping an arm around the mage’s shoulders with warmth and brotherly affection. “Come on, brother. I’ll tell them about the company’s new direction. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
“All right, you’ve convinced me,” the younger relented, though he gently pulled away. “Just… let’s skip the sappy stuff next time.”
Typical teenager, Stark thought to himself with a smile, walking a few steps ahead of his brother. By that point, their interaction felt so natural and warm that the whole room seemed filled with a sense of family comfort and mutual understanding.
The new room JARVIS had chosen was spacious, yet it didn’t inspire the same fascination. Despite the glass and wood panels adorning its light-gray walls, they couldn’t compare to the panoramic view of the city from several floors higher.
At the center of the room stood a long oval table made of polished black wood, surrounded by leather chairs in shades of gray and black. Screens hung on the walls, currently turned off, and the lighting was set to create the most comfortable atmosphere for discussion. From the large window occupying one wall stretched a breathtaking, though no longer novel, view of the city and its endless skyscrapers.
All participants expected the meeting to be a routine procedure. However, with the innovations and drastic changes Tony Stark was about to propose, the air in the room was tense.
As the billionaire began outlining his new plans, the expressions on the directors’ faces changed instantly. Miller, one of the senior and most influential members of the board, shot to his feet in outrage. His face flushed red with anger, his voice rising to a near-hysterical pitch.
“Financial support for scientists?! A hospital?! A complete change in company policy?!” he shouted, nearly boiling with fury. “Production focused solely on defensive technology?! With these decisions, Stark Industries will go bankrupt! Have you lost your mind?!” He pointed toward his neighbors, gesturing furiously at those sitting beside him, too angry to form coherent words. “And you think all of us will support this madness?”
Green, seated next to Tony, tensed—not from fear, as one might think at first glance, but from irritation toward a man so blatantly disregarding etiquette, which clearly stated that one must never raise their voice toward a superior.
His eyes, usually filled with ironic calm, darkened slightly, though neither his face nor body betrayed a single thought or emotion.
“Let me guess—he’s on the traitors’ list too?” he asked mentally, turning to Tony.
“You’re absolutely right, my brother, as are the two sitting to his left,” Tony replied with a smile that, though casual, only poured fuel on the fire. Stark’s good mood was like a red rag to a bull, driving many of the directors mad.
“So you even laugh about this?!” shouted the man sitting beside Miller. His fingers trembled with agitation. “Do you realize that people working for this company could lose their jobs because of you?”
“Oh, he’s going for the guilt angle. And you, Tony, really should learn to control your facial expressions,” Green quipped mentally, “at this rate, they’ll have you declared insane.”
Suppressing a smile, Tony stood. His expression turned stern, his voice gaining authority and dropping several tones lower.
“I’ve said my piece. Stark Industries starts from scratch—new building, new policy, and, if necessary, new directors. Anyone dissatisfied should leave the company right now.” He pointed toward the door, then turned his gaze on the two raging men. “You two are dismissed. Leave the room and the premises. Your shares are no longer active.”
The fact that Stark hadn’t raised his voice shocked everyone—even Green. A cold sweat ran down most of those present; goosebumps crawled across their skin. Their hands now shook not from anger, but from fear.
“Wow, Tony, you’re pure determination today,” Green remarked, his tone full of encouraging irony.
The directors exchanged uneasy glances, their faces a mix of shock and confusion. His behavior surprised even those long familiar with him. In the past, Stark had rarely attended meetings—and when he did, he’d usually sit glued to his phone, showing no interest. Everything had been handled by Obadiah and Miss Potts. Even Pepper, standing off to the side, couldn’t hide her astonishment.
The two men, momentarily stunned, stormed out in fury. Others followed soon after. Once they were gone, Green, sensing the tension between his brother and Pepper, decided to leave them alone.
“I’ll go check on Happy. You two talk,” he said with a faint smirk before exiting the room.
When everyone else had left, Pepper finally allowed herself to speak her mind. She approached her boss, her face lit with worry and concern.
“Tony, you can’t take such risks. These directors aren’t just people with bad ideas—they represent vital company interests. You’ve just made them your enemies.” Her voice trembled with unease.
Seeing her distress, Tony gently touched her hand, feeling its faint tremor.
“Pepper, I understand your concern. But I can’t keep running the business the way it used to be. If we want to change the world, we have to take bold steps,” he said softly, his tone a mix of resolve and tenderness.
Her eyes shone with affection and support as she looked at him, full of deep attachment.
“I know you always aim higher, but I’m afraid these changes could have serious consequences. You know I’ll always stand by you—but I need you to think about your safety too,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion.
Feeling her fear, he pulled her into his arms, holding her close. Looking into her eyes, his gaze radiated love and confidence.
“I promise I’ll be careful. You know you mean more to me than anything. We’ll get through this together,” he whispered, his words warm and sincere.
Pepper’s hand brushed against his face, her fingers gliding over his cheek. She smiled genuinely, her fears easing under the weight of his steady calm.
“I just want you to be safe, Tony. You mean so much to me…” she whispered softly.
Tony answered with a gentle smile and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Their faces reflected unity and love as they stood embraced, savoring the moment of quiet and comfort. The room around them seemed filled with an atmosphere of romantic peace and mutual support.