The group flew back to the United States from Monaco on a private plane. The cabin was eerily quiet throughout the flight.
Tony never said a word. He sat silently beside the window, making no attempt to hide the exhaustion in his eyes.
Back at his Malibu mansion, he immediately shut himself in the basement laboratory and refused all interruptions. Information filled the screens, all of it concerning Ivan Vanko's past, along with records of Anton Vanko and Howard Stark's collaboration and the details of their falling-out.
Holding a glass of chlorophyll juice, Tony leaned languidly back in his chair. The blue glow of the screens lit his profile, making the two dark shadows beneath his eyes stand out even more starkly.
"Sir, palladium toxicity in your bloodstream continues to rise. The reading has exceeded the safety threshold."
JARVIS's calm, mechanical voice echoed through the laboratory.
Tony gave a slight nod without answering, his gaze fixed on the old files on the screen as his fingertips absently stroked his glass.
Lynn stood at the laboratory entrance and watched for a moment, but ultimately did not step forward to disturb him.
Things changed quickly.
That evening, Colonel Rhodes arrived unexpectedly in his Air Force service uniform, his expression tense and his steps hurried.
Hearing the noise, Lynn emerged from the second-floor study, tucked the bound volume beneath his arm, and followed Rhodey at a moderate distance. He had no intention of getting involved in Tony's entanglement with the military, but the plot at the Monaco racetrack had already deviated. He had to see for himself whether subsequent events had undergone a chain reaction of changes.
As Rhodey entered, he caught sight of Lynn standing quietly by the stairs out of the corner of his eye. His brow briefly furrowed, but he asked no questions and headed straight toward Tony at the living room bar.
"Tony, you need to get upstairs and get this situation under control right now."
Rhodey kept his voice low, his tone anxious and grave, every word seeming to squeeze through his teeth. "Listen, I spent an entire day dealing with the National Guard. It took everything I had to hold them back. They nearly drove tanks straight onto the Pacific Ocean Coast Highway, knocked down your gates, and forcibly confiscated every suit."
"They're dead set on taking your suits, Tony. They're done playing games with you!"
Tony remained leaning against the bar, his posture relaxed but his eyes utterly lifeless.
"Are you listening?!" Rhodey stepped forward, his tone growing more urgent.
"I'm listening." Tony's voice was flat.
"At the congressional hearing, you swore no one would replicate your reactor technology for twenty years." Rhodey stared at him, every word earnest. "But yesterday, at the Monaco racetrack, the whole world saw it! Someone used replicated Stark energy technology to fight Iron Man head-on."
"Do you know what that means? Your technology isn't unique anymore."
"The military memorandum has already classified your armor as a 'proliferating national defense asset.' If Stark Industries can't maintain technological exclusivity, it has to hand it over to military control. Now that the barrier has been broken, they have no reason to wait for you anymore. Keep dragging this out, and tanks really will roll up to your house and blast your gates open with a shell!"
Lynn leaned against the stair railing, quietly watching the confrontation with an indifferent expression.
Only after a long while did Tony slowly speak, his tone far too calm. "I'll get it under control. Don't worry."
Rhodey wanted to keep persuading him, only to realize that Tony's gaze had already drifted away. Gone were his usual arrogance, tension, and wariness. All that remained was profound exhaustion and clarity, as though he had shed all his sharp-edged defenses in a single day.
In the end, Rhodey could only suppress his anxiety and leave helplessly.
The vast living room instantly fell deathly silent.
Tony remained leaning against the bar, standing motionless for a long time before slowly raising his eyes toward Lynn by the stairs.
All the sharpness had faded from those eyes. Only a calm that he had deliberately forced himself to maintain through long suppression remained.
"Lynn, you know what kind of situation I'm in."
Lynn descended the stairs and entered the living room, gently setting the magazine beneath his arm on the coffee table. "I do."
"The palladium poisoning is progressing faster than my calculations predicted."
Tony's voice was unmistakably hoarse, carrying a trace of almost helpless pleading. "I've tried every known element, every possible ratio. None of them can replace palladium. None!"
He stared hard at Lynn, the last of his hope hidden in his eyes. "Let me ask you one last time, Lynn. My father... he really did leave something for me, right?"
Lynn straightened, shedding all his usual languor and teasing, his expression serious and solemn.
Many images flashed through his mind: his youthful longing as he watched Stark's press conferences on television; Tony's determination as Lynn watched him crouch amid the wreckage in the wastelands of Afghanistan after transmigrating, shaping the first-generation armor with his own hands; and that casual remark Tony had once made, "He never said he loved me."
"Tony, I've always known that there's a rift between you and Howard, that you resent him and don't understand him."
Lynn's tone was gentle, but every word was sincere. "But I want you to know that you were his first and only child. All his life, he was obsessive and unyielding. He didn't understand tenderness, couldn't say loving words, and was even worse at expressing love. He didn't even know how to properly face his own son."
"But the research he devoted his entire life to, his life's work, everything he accumulated and laid the groundwork for-in the end, he left all of it to you, holding nothing back."
Tony kept his head lowered, his shoulders tightening slightly, and said nothing.
Watching his forlorn figure, Lynn slowly let the gravity leave his voice and returned to his usual relaxed, languid tone, taking the opportunity to offer some advice. "Since Congress and the military want the armor so badly, give the Mark II to Rhodey."
"You're friends who've trusted each other with your lives, aren't you? Giving him the armor is trust, not a compromise."
"Don't leave him caught between you and the Pentagon, unable to please either side. He spent the whole day trying to keep the situation under control for you. He came to talk you around and didn't even have time for a sip of water."
The living room fell into another long silence.
Tony stood quietly, taking in everything Lynn had said. A moment later, he finally walked over to the bar and picked up the phone on the counter. After a few seconds of silence, he slowly dialed the number.
Rhodey returned remarkably quickly, arriving back at the mansion in just a few minutes.
Tony stood quietly in the center of the living room. Beside him stood the sleek, silver-white MK2 armor, its metal gleaming coldly in the light of the floor lamp.
Rhodey pushed the door open and entered, his gaze instantly darting between Tony and the armor, his eyes filled with astonishment. "...What is this supposed to mean?"
Tony raised a hand and lightly tapped the cold armor plating on the suit's arm. He looked up at his old friend, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint, hoarse yet utterly relaxed smile. Much of the exhaustion and frustration that had weighed on his heart for days quietly dissipated at that moment.
"This isn't a military requisition."
"This is my gift to you."
After a pause, a familiar hint of Stark swagger and teasing slipped back in out of habit, his tone growing a little lighter. "But fair warning: make sure you read the manual before putting it on. Not everyone has Tony Stark's brains, after all."