The barrage of insults left the gathered agents visibly shaken. They exchanged glances, some stiff with restraint, others clearly simmering beneath the surface. If not for the sheer number of witnesses present—and the risk to their reputations—more aggressive methods would have already been used.
One of them muttered under his breath, unable to hold it in. "We were still grieving at Baghlan… and you come back and pull something like this. You're a disease in this country."
"Enough, Stark. That's enough."
The sharp, commanding voice cut through the chaos.
Cohen's gaze shifted immediately. A familiar figure stepped forward, clad in a long black coat, his presence alone enough to part the crowd. Every agent instinctively made way for him.
Nick Fury.
In his hand, he held a thick stack of documents.
"The Strategic Homeland Defense agency has already completed its investigation," Fury said evenly. "The two Jericho missiles were not launched through standard protocols."
He raised the documents slightly.
"There was a flaw in the control system. Subtle. Hard to detect. The perpetrator exploited that weakness to initiate launch."
His single eye shifted toward Stark.
"I assume," he continued, voice calm but pointed, "that this wasn't an intentional design choice. Correct, Mr. Stark?"
Stark's jaw tightened. His face flushed red as he forced the words out.
"Of course not."
Fury turned back to the agents, lifting the file higher.
"Inside this," he said, "you'll find both the technical analysis of the system vulnerability and verified records confirming Stark's captivity during the incident. You're free to review it."
The tension in the air shifted.
Some agents stepped forward to examine the documents. Others pulled out their phones, contacting superiors. The unified pressure that had surrounded Stark moments ago began to fracture.
Bit by bit, they withdrew.
Within minutes, the overwhelming presence thinned until only a few figures remained.
Fury approached Stark directly, his expression unreadable.
"Tony Stark. We need to talk—"
Before he could finish, Stark's body swayed.
Then he collapsed.
For a split second, everything froze.
Then chaos erupted.
"Stark!"
"Get a medic!"
Fury, Jasper Sitwell, and several others rushed forward at once. Cohen's eyes widened slightly as he watched.
Did he really just pass out from anger?
Moments later, Pepper Potts pushed through the crowd, eyes red, panic written all over her face. Medical staff who had been standing by hurried in, quickly assessing Stark's condition.
The verdict came fast.
Exhaustion. Malnutrition. Stress overload.
He'd simply hit his limit.
Cohen clicked his tongue quietly. Not surprising. A man dragged through hell, then dragged straight into interrogation—no one handled that cleanly.
While everyone's attention was focused on Stark, Cohen made his move.
He grabbed Ethan by the arm.
"If you don't want to end up in a S.H.I.E.L.D. interrogation room," he said quickly, "come with me."
Ethan didn't hesitate. The events of the last few minutes had shaken him badly. He nodded immediately.
Cohen pulled him along, slipping through the edges of the chaos. They reached the perimeter fence, scaled it in one smooth motion, and dropped down on the other side.
Minutes later, they were in a taxi, disappearing into the city.
Inside the car, Cohen glanced at Ethan.
"I heard your family… didn't make it out of the war."
Ethan's expression dimmed. "No. They didn't."
Cohen nodded slowly, as if confirming something.
"I'm building a medical company," he said. "New treatments. New drugs. Real impact. If you join me, your work won't just sit in a lab—it'll save lives."
Ethan looked at him, surprised.
Cohen continued calmly. "I can also provide funding to your hometown. Infrastructure. Medicine. Support for the people there."
Ethan was silent for a moment, processing.
Then Cohen added one more line.
"And I'll end the war."
That made Ethan's eyes widen.
"You can influence the U.S. government?" he asked.
Cohen smiled faintly.
"Let's just say… what I do tends to have consequences."
Ethan didn't hesitate anymore.
"As long as the war ends," he said firmly, "I'll do whatever you need."
Cohen nodded, satisfied.
"Good. I like working with people who know what matters."
…
They crossed the Hudson River into New Jersey, leaving the chaos of New York behind. Their destination was a secluded estate—hidden, heavily secured, and now repurposed into Cohen's private research base.
Inside, everything was already in motion.
Carlisle Cullen was working in one of the labs, conducting experiments with vampire blood. The environment was controlled, sterile, and far removed from the outside world.
After introducing Ethan to the facility, Cohen moved on.
Next door, Anton and Ivan were already at work.
Both wore clean lab coats, their attention locked onto a series of schematics displayed across multiple screens. Blueprints, data overlays, structural breakdowns—it was all there.
Mark I.
The Arc Reactor.
Cohen's eyes narrowed slightly as he took it in.
Anton noticed him first and stood up quickly.
"I underestimated him," Anton admitted, voice filled with reluctant respect. "Howard and I created the Arc Reactor together, but I never imagined it could be refined like this."
He gestured toward the display.
"To build something like this… in a cave… it's extraordinary."
Ivan leaned back slightly, a toothpick in his mouth, unimpressed.
"He just had better resources," he said casually. "Better access to information. That's all."
Anton snapped immediately. "Spit that out and show some respect to your boss!"
Cohen waved it off.
He didn't care about their attitude. What mattered was their output.
"So," he said, stepping closer, "can you replicate it?"
Anton and Ivan exchanged a glance.
Then Anton shrugged.
"If you need it, we can build it," he said. "But honestly? That design is crude. Give me time, and I can do better."
"Much better," Ivan added.
Cohen nodded slowly.
Good.
Better than expected.
Originally, he'd estimated their combined value at maybe half a Stark. Now? Maybe closer to sixty, seventy percent.
Enough to work with.
He took a breath, his tone shifting.
"I have two projects for you."
Both men straightened slightly.
"First," Cohen said, "I want a weapon. Based on the Arc Reactor."
He paused.
"A bomb. The strongest one you can make. At minimum, it needs to rival hydrogen-level destructive power."
Silence.
Ivan blinked. "Boss… are you planning to end the world?"
Cohen smiled.
"No. But I want the option."
The answer didn't make them feel better.
Still, they nodded.
Anton cleared his throat. "And the second project?"
"Armor."
Cohen's eyes sharpened.
"The most powerful armor in the world."
Anton nodded instinctively. "Understood. We'll build something superior—"
"No," Cohen interrupted.
"You don't understand."
Both men froze.
Before they could ask, Cohen moved.
His body lifted off the ground effortlessly. In the next instant, arcs of silver lightning burst into existence around him, coiling like living serpents.
The room filled with the sharp crackle of electricity.
"I need armor built for this."
The lightning intensified briefly, illuminating the entire lab.
"A Thunder Armor."
Anton and Ivan felt their legs weaken slightly as they stared.
This wasn't theory.
This was reality.
Cohen dropped back to the ground, the electricity fading instantly. He snapped his fingers, pulling them back to focus.
"This suit needs power. A lot of it. One Arc Reactor won't cut it—I want six."
He began pacing slowly, outlining his vision.
"High-altitude flight. Supersonic speed. Deep-sea operation. Space-capable, if possible. Reinforce against icing at extreme altitudes. And I want maximum offensive and defensive output."
He stopped, looking directly at them.
"No compromises."
The two exchanged a glance.
Then nodded.
After a moment, Ivan raised a hand slightly. "There's a problem."
"Materials."
Cohen had already thought that through.
Vibranium was out of reach for now. Too expensive to buy. Too difficult to locate for theft without precise intel.
So he had a fallback.
Adamantium.
If he remembered correctly, there was still a reserve at Stryker's old facility. Not enough for a full build—but enough for reinforcement at critical points.
That alone would elevate the armor's durability significantly.
"I'll handle materials," Cohen said.
Then he turned to leave—only to stop suddenly.
"Oh. One more thing."
He looked back at them.
"The armor needs to generate a Faraday electromagnetic cage using lightning."
His smile returned, sharp and confident.
"That part's non-negotiable."