The next morning, Fox sat in the Fraternity's dining hall with Wesley and several other senior members, eating breakfast while watching the news coverage on the mounted television. The incident had dominated every channel since dawn.
"…the incident at Stark Industries last night," the news anchor said with practiced gravitas. "Unconfirmed reports suggest a prototype robotic system malfunctioned, causing extensive property damage in downtown Los Angeles."
The footage cut to grainy cell phone video of the Iron Monger and Mark III battling in the streets, then to clearer shots of Smith intercepting missiles and destroying Obadiah's armor.
"However," the anchor continued, "Colonel James Rhodes, acting as spokesman for Stark Industries, has offered a different explanation."
Rhodes appeared on screen in his dress uniform, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "What people witnessed last night was actually part of a top-secret film production sponsored by Stark Industries. Advanced special effects and practical stunts that, I'll admit, got a bit out of hand."
Fox took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. The official story was transparently false, anyone with eyes could see those were real weapons, real destruction, real superhuman capabilities. But SHIELD would push this narrative hard, and most people would accept it because the alternative was too disruptive to their worldview.
He wasn't interested in Rhodes' performance. He was waiting to see Smith at the press conference.
John Wick drove Smith and Bulma to the Stark Industries facility in one of the Fraternity's unmarked vehicles. They entered through a service entrance, avoiding the growing crowd of reporters and curious civilians gathering at the main doors.
Backstage, they found Tony in a small prep room while Pepper applied makeup to cover the bruises and cuts from last night's battle. Tony looked up when Smith entered, a grin spreading across his face.
"Smith! Glad you could make it to our little theatrical production."
Pepper set down her makeup brush and turned to them with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this mess. The press coverage has been..."
"Unavoidable?" Smith finished. "YouTube is flooded with videos of last night. We were always going to end up in front of cameras."
He glanced at Coulson, who stood near the door reviewing notes on a tablet. "Isn't that right, Agent?"
Coulson's bland smile never wavered. "If everyone adheres to the agreed-upon narrative, we can minimize the disruption. It's a manageable situation."
Tony picked up a newspaper from the makeup table, ignoring Coulson entirely. "Check this out, Smith. The press gave me a nickname, 'Iron Man.' Has a certain ring to it, doesn't it?"
He grabbed a tablet and pulled up an article, turning it so Smith could see. "And you got one too. 'America's Own Superman.' Someone even designed a costume for you."
The image showed a crude but enthusiastic digital illustration: Smith in a cape made from an American flag, the design reminiscent of propaganda posters. The caption read: "We have our own Superman!"
Smith stared at the image, his mind immediately jumping to darker parallels. That wasn't Superman's aesthetic, it was Homelander's.
"Interesting design choice," Smith said carefully. "Who made this?"
Tony scrolled through the article. "Let's see... IP trace says Florida. Why?"
"Just curious about the artist's influences."
Tony studied Smith's expression. "You don't like it."
Smith's smile didn't reach his eyes. "No."
Coulson approached, his tablet now displaying talking points. "Mr. Stark, here's your alibi for last night. The official story is that the 'robots' people saw were sophisticated movie props, part of a film project exclusively sponsored by Stark Industries."
He continued without waiting for acknowledgment. "You were on your yacht at the time of the incident. The Port Authority confirms you were anchored in Avalon Harbor overnight, with fifty guests who can verify your presence."
Tony glanced at the script Coulson offered, but didn't take it. Pepper intercepted the document and handed it to Tony properly, her efficiency smoothing over the deliberate slight.
"Fifty guests?" Tony said, scanning the text. "Seems excessive. Why not just say Pepper and I were alone on a romantic island getaway?"
Coulson's expression remained professionally neutral. "The narrative requires to be reasonable so people will believe it, Mr. Stark. Please stick to the script."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Stick to the script? You're asking me to lie with a straight face while the whole world has video evidence otherwise. That's rich, coming from a government spook."
He continued reading, then looked up sharply. "Wait, there's no mention of Obadiah. What happened to him in this fairy tale?"
"Mr. Stane is on an extended vacation," Coulson said smoothly. "Small aircraft have terrible safety records. Tragic, really."
Tony's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. The implication was clear: SHIELD had disappeared Obadiah's remains and would handle any questions about his absence.
"And the explanation for all this?" Tony gestured at the script. "We're really going with 'movie production'? People aren't idiots."
"We've used similar cover stories before," Coulson assured him. "The human mind prefers comfortable lies to uncomfortable truths. Give them a plausible denial, and most will take it."
Tony's expression turned thoughtful. "What if we actually made a movie? Lean into it. I could be Bruce Wayne, billionaire industrialist fighting crime with technology. Smith here could play Clark Kent, the alien hero with energy projection powers. We team up to defeat an evil industrialist in a stolen armor. Call him... Iron Monger."
He looked genuinely excited by the idea. "Think about it, we'd control the narrative completely. Fiction becomes truth becomes fiction. Very postmodern."
Coulson didn't take the bait. "As long as you follow the official statement at the press conference, Mr. Stark, we don't care what creative projects you pursue afterward."
He turned to Smith. "Mr. Doyle, your role in this narrative is straightforward. You're playing a Superman-inspired character for the film. To avoid copyright issues with DC, you don't have heat vision, instead, you project energy blasts from your hands. Everything captured on video last night was part of the movie's production."
Smith nodded agreeably, though his mind was already working through how to subvert this narrative. Tony's press conference would come first, and knowing Tony's pathological inability to follow scripts, the official story would likely collapse within minutes.
Then Smith would have his turn at the microphone.
"Understood," Smith said. "Though I do have one condition we discussed last night, I'm using this press conference to announce a product launch for my company. Consider it payment for cooperation."
Coulson's expression tightened fractionally. "We agreed to a brief commercial announcement. Keep it under two minutes."
"Wouldn't dream of exceeding that."
Smith turned to Bulma, who'd been observing everything with scientific detachment. "You'll be introduced as our chief scientist. We're promoting both the product and the genius behind it. Ready for your moment in the spotlight?"
Bulma's eyes lit up with excitement. "Absolutely! I've been waiting to show the world what real innovation looks like."
Coulson checked his watch. "Everyone, you have ninety seconds. Mr. Stark, you're on first."
He left without further ceremony, leaving the group in the prep room.
Pepper hurried after him, catching him just outside the door. "Agent Coulson, wait. I wanted to thank you properly for your help with all this. The situation could have been so much worse."
Coulson's professional mask softened slightly. "Just doing my job, Miss Potts. Though I expect we'll be working together more frequently in the future."
"Your organization, the Strategic Homeland... Inter-something...?" Pepper struggled with the unwieldy acronym.
"We've rebranded," Coulson said with what might have been relief. "We're now called SHIELD. Much simpler."
"SHIELD," Pepper repeated. "Yes, much better. Thank you again."
Coulson nodded and disappeared down the corridor, already on his phone coordinating the next phase of the operation.
Pepper returned to the prep room and picked up Tony's suit jacket from the couch. "You're up, Tony. Time to sell the lie."
Tony stood, accepting the jacket and shrugging it on. "You know, reading from a script isn't really my style. I'm more of an improvisation guy."
"Tony." Pepper's voice carried warning. "Please, just this once, follow the official story. For me?"
Tony looked at her, at the concern in her eyes, at the exhaustion from dealing with his chaos. He picked up Coulson's script and waved it dismissively.
"Sure, sure. Stick to the script. How hard can it be?"
Pepper helped him straighten his jacket and tie. "You're not Iron Man, remember? You were on your yacht."
Tony's smile was enigmatic. "Of course I'm not Iron Man. That would be crazy."
"Tony, "
"Whatever you want to hear, Pep."
He headed for the door, the script still in his hand but his expression suggesting he had no intention of following it. Pepper watched him go with a sinking feeling that this press conference was about to go spectacularly off-script.
Smith and Bulma followed at a distance, preparing for their own moment in front of the cameras. This was about to get interesting.