Marvel's Iron Lady

"Stark Industries has once again sent invitations to the media, preparing for a press conference where the long-silent CEO will reappear after a three-month absence to announce the company's new operational plans."

When Stark Industries planned this press conference, there wasn't overwhelming public interest in the company's future, yet plenty of media outlets accepted the invitation to attend.

The reason? It wasn't Stark Industries' new business strategy that interested them, but rather some speculative news trickling in from Afghanistan. Rumors hinted that Stark Industries had developed a powerful iron-armored robot, a machine that had rampaged across Afghan soil before vanishing without a trace.

The connection between these rumors and the footage of Miss Stark leaping from the Stark Tower rooftop in New York, clad in iron armor, had stirred enough intrigue for some to link the two incidents.

While the journalists didn't have definitive proof about the video's authenticity, nor could they label it as fake, some reporters managed to track down those who'd filmed it, and all of them claimed it was real. Stark Industries' response, however, was lukewarm—they neither confirmed nor denied it.

Adding to this, the news and blurry footage from Afghanistan, showing a red-and-gold humanoid machine, led many in the media to believe there was something worth digging into, and they hoped to get the truth from Stark Industries.

The press conference was scheduled for the evening. However, Miss Stark arrived in Washington early, first inspecting the reactor dismantling project at the industrial park before heading to company headquarters, where she encountered an unexpected visitor: S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Phil Coulson.

"Our PR efforts may not have been entirely successful. Some reporters have gotten hold of your photos, so they're likely to question you at this conference—we've drafted a statement for you to read. Stick to it, and we'll handle the rest."

Agent Coulson handed her a newspaper, still fresh with the smell of ink, along with a small cue card with the prepared statement.

"You're going to brush them off with this? Are you sure that'll work?"

As she read the text S.H.I.E.L.D. had written, Miss Stark's brow furrowed in mild disbelief; she was clearly skeptical about their approach.

"Trust us, we're professionals in this area. Just follow the script—they'll forget about it soon enough."

The press conference began soon after, and just as Agent Coulson predicted, the reporters showed little interest in the future of Stark Industries. As soon as Miss Stark appeared, they rose to their feet, thrusting microphones toward her.

One reporter standing near the front, presumably chosen to lead the questioning, held up a photo widely circulated online, depicting a Mark-7 Iron Man suit. Though the picture itself was blurry, it seemed to have been taken in haste by someone evacuating the danger zone.

But now, the photo had been enlarged and digitally enhanced enough to show details—a metallic figure, complete with a round, smooth arc reactor on its chest—just what kind of "robot" would need feminine armor that emphasized a chestplate?

Miss Stark's gaze lingered briefly on the image, and she immediately realized that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s PR approach had missed the mark.

"Miss Stark, how do you explain this photo? This female robot appeared in an online video, and her face resembles yours."

"Miss Stark, should we take this to mean that the figure in this image was, in fact, being operated by you?"

"Why were you in Afghanistan? Did you attack those villages for revenge?"

It seemed the journalists had coordinated beforehand; rather than talking over each other, they fired one pointed question after another, each zeroing in on the heart of the matter.

On stage, Miss Stark's brow knit tightly as though she were slightly embarrassed by the barrage of questions, while below, Coulson's face darkened as he sensed the PR plan was unraveling.

"I never thought a few photos and a video could prove anything. But since you're all so determined to know the truth, I'll give it to you—the truth is…"

Her sudden declaration stunned the room into silence as everyone held their breath, waiting for what she'd say next.

"The truth is—that was me, a super-rich superhero. Thank you."

With that, Miss Stark reached into her pocket, pulled out the cue card Coulson had handed her, and tore it up in front of the stunned press, scattering the pieces like snowflakes before turning and walking off the stage without a backward glance.

"Stark Industries' CEO has publicly revealed her identity as a superhero—a very wealthy superhero."

"Military action in Afghanistan confirmed as a retaliatory strike; all targets were terrorists under the control of the Ten Rings."

"She commands an army of iron—what should her superhero moniker be? The Iron Lady?"

"Stark Industries announces its expansion into clean energy and new material industries, while confirming receipt of a $50 billion weapons order from the U.S. Department of Defense. The new energy reactor project is nearing completion, leaving former shareholders bitterly regretful."

The impact of the press conference quickly snowballed, and with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s subtle steering, Miss Stark's image transformed from that of a weapon-wielding executioner to a super-rich hero eradicating terrorists and purging evildoers.

As the words "world's largest arms dealer," "wealthy," "superhero," "terrorist," and "revenge" circulated in headlines, each card she'd carefully kept up her sleeve was revealed one by one.

Not only did this serve as a stepping stone for Stark Industries to reassert its market dominance, but it also thrust Miss Stark into the spotlight as the center of public discussion.

When media outlets revealed that Stark Industries' industrial park had dismantled its outdated reactor to make way for the world's largest clean energy reactor, which would soon be able to power all of America for a full hour each day, it only heightened the global fascination.

The stock of Stark Industries performed a perfect demonstration of a 90-degree surge, and Miss Stark's personal net worth soared by billions.

S.H.I.E.L.D. continued to handle the PR cleanup for previous mishaps, and it was during this moment of mild chaos that Miss Stark encountered someone unexpected.

She'd only meant to step outside Stark Tower to grab a quick dinner. But the moment she left the building, she found herself face-to-face with a man: a bio-geneticist and head of the Life Foundation, Carlton Drake.

At the restaurant, Miss Stark's gaze lingered on the man seated across from her—a sharp, calculating look. After all, not everyone got the opportunity to dine with her. But this slightly unkempt scientist had managed to earn her interest.

His name was Carlton Drake, a man in his early thirties, head and chief scientist of the Life Foundation. The organization promoted a doomsday-prepper's philosophy, aiming to use science to ensure humanity's survival in the event of an apocalypse.

As such, the Life Foundation had specifically targeted wealthy clients like Miss Stark, offering them "end-of-the-world" protection services against scenarios such as nuclear war.

But what piqued Miss Stark's curiosity more was his reason for seeking her out. Why personally? Did he really intend to pitch her on some apocalyptic survival theory?

"Dr. Drake, I've already looked into your Life Foundation, and I don't think I'll be needing your safety services. If a nuclear war erupts, it's likely to be one I've started myself. You know, I've got the means."

"Yes, Miss Stark, I'm well aware you've got the means… but I'm not here to sell doomsday theories. I'm here to ask for funding."

Drake's response was laced with a hint of embarrassment as he met her eyes and offered a slight, wry smile.

"You, running a foundation, short on funds? Even if you were, wouldn't countless banks be lining up to give you a loan? Why come to me?"

Miss Stark raised an eyebrow, eyeing him skeptically.

"I'm working on a project with a high return potential but high initial costs, and they refuse to fund it. I'm left with no option but to find someone brilliant and well-off enough to recognize its value."

Drake's awkward smile grew as he lifted her up in his words, clearly trying to appeal to her ego.

Miss Stark, however, wasn't buying it. Investments were all about returns. And from the way he spoke, it was obvious there was more to the story.

"Hm, that's your pitch to investors? Not too bad. Now, tell me the truth."

"So, you noticed… Well, alright. I was sabotaged. A company called Advanced Idea Mechanics is targeting my soon-to-be-listed foundation, pulling away key investors. At this rate, we'll likely face bankruptcy."

Drake sighed, hesitating briefly before finally spilling the truth.

"Advanced Idea Mechanics… That does sound familiar."

Miss Stark's eyes widened slightly, and she quickly made the connection.

AIM, or Advanced Idea Mechanics, was a corporation established in secret by remnants of Hydra at the end of WWII, intended as a technology research conglomerate for military advancements.

Eventually, AIM and Hydra split over ideological differences, and AIM's current head was someone she knew all too well—Aldrich Killian.

"Interesting… You know, money isn't a problem for me, but what's even more important is that we have a common enemy."

The look in Miss Stark's eyes shifted as she focused on Drake, giving him goosebumps.

A common enemy was the best foundation for an alliance. Miss Stark's plan was to use Drake and his Life Foundation as a pawn to probe AIM, building a foundation against a potential future threat.

Half an hour later, when Carlton Drake walked out of Stark Tower clutching a check for twenty million dollars, he couldn't shake a peculiar feeling. The money felt dangerously hot, and he began to regret ever approaching her in the first place.

The funds came with conditions, including a seat for Miss Stark on the Life Foundation's board. He began to feel that the foundation might soon no longer belong to him at all.

"Why would you invest in a foundation with such dim prospects, Miss Stark? I can't quite understand."

"I'm not looking for returns from him, Jarvis; I expect him to be our weapon."

"…Cancel tomorrow's appointments for me, I need to head to San Francisco," Miss Stark continued, pausing before she gave the final instruction.

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