"Last night, a huge explosion occurred at Stark Industries. Witnesses reported that, fortunately, one of Tony Stark's bodyguards was on the scene."
On TV, a press conference about last night's Stark Industries explosion was being broadcast live. Colonel Rhodes stood on stage, speaking seriously nonsense.
Backstage, in the preparation room:
Pepper Potts kept applying makeup to Tony's face, trying to cover his minor injuries and at least make him look unrelated to last night's events.
Tony Stark flipped through a newspaper.
"'Iron Man'… that's a pretty impressive name. But it's not entirely accurate. This thing is made of gold and titanium alloy!"
But when he turned the page, he suddenly became unhappy.
"A massive explosion at Stark Industries… fireworks in the R&D building… and this isn't even the front-page headline about me? These reporters really have no taste!"
On the front page was a large photo of the Wind God armor.
Wind God? Silver Armored War God?
This time, I'll let you have the spotlight—but from now on, all headlines will belong to me!
Seeing Tony act like a jealous child, Pepper couldn't help but laugh.
"You were both wearing armor at the time. Who would even know you were Tony Stark?"
This made Tony even more unhappy.
Pepper had clearly reminded him that the Mark III had performed worse than the Wind God in last night's battle.
That was an unforgivable offense!
Should he explain that Mark III failed because Obadiah had stolen his arc reactor and sabotaged him?
But a loss was a loss.
He, Tony Stark, was not a sore loser—but he would definitely win next time.
"Are you sure Rimuru won't be coming?" Tony asked curiously.
Pepper nodded.
"Rimuru said she checked the almanac and today is a lucky day for gacha pulls. Whether she can get Illya depends on today's luck!"
Tony Stark: "…"
He had actually lost to this otaku who was obsessed with gacha pulls.
The fragile sense of normality he had just regained shattered instantly.
With Pepper's help, Tony put on a sharp suit, and his entire demeanor changed.
At the same time, Coulson walked in holding a stack of prepared speech notes.
After his last failed investigation into Rimuru, he had been sidelined.
Helping Tony clean up the aftermath of the robot incident was a mission Coulson had voluntarily requested—his chance at redemption and to regain Director Nick Fury's trust.
He was very confident. He had handled countless similar cases before.
"Everything is prearranged. At the time, you were on a yacht party with Miss Potts and knew nothing about the incident. Thirty people were on board and can all testify for you."
Tony glanced at the script.
"A thirty-person yacht party? Why not just two people—me and Pepper?"
Pepper said nothing, only tearing off the tape on Tony's face used to cover his wounds.
Tony winced in pain and immediately stopped talking nonsense.
"Why doesn't this mention Stane?"
Coulson replied calmly:
"We handled it. He's on vacation. Small plane accidents happen quite often."
Tony was speechless.
"Don't you think this sounds like a movie script? One of my bodyguards built a robot?"
Coulson remained patient.
"Mr. Stark, that is not your main concern. Just read the statement. This will all blow over soon."
At the press conference:
Colonel Rhodes greeted Tony enthusiastically and almost dragged him on stage, but wisely stepped aside for his friend.
"It's been a long time since I did a press conference. I guess I'll just read the script this time."
The sarcastic tone made the reporters laugh.
The last press conference had been when Tony shut down the weapons division—one of the biggest stories of the year.
Camera flashes filled the room.
Reporters crowded forward.
"Some people suspect I was involved in last night's highway and rooftop incident…"
But halfway through, a reporter interrupted him.
"Mr. Stark, do you really expect us to believe this? A bodyguard suddenly appeared in armor? That sounds too unbelievable."
Tony immediately recognized her—Christine, a reporter from Vanity Fair.
"You can question the official statement, but don't accuse me of being a superhero."
Christine replied:
"I never said you were a superhero."
Tony paused.
"No? This sounds like science fiction. I'm not a hero. I have plenty of flaws, and I cause a lot of trouble for everyone."
Colonel Rhodes quietly urged him:
"Stick to the script."
"Alright, alright."
Tony nodded, picked up the paper, and was about to read—then stopped.
He lowered the script, looked straight ahead, and said:
"I am Iron Man."
The entire room exploded.
Camera flashes went wild. Reporters rushed forward, breaking order.
"Mr. Stark! You are Iron Man—was that your armor last night? The silver one?"
Tony's face darkened. He couldn't even respond.
Then the reporters misunderstood his expression.
"Oh… so the one in the red suit wasn't you?"
Tony's expression grew even darker.
"I'm not your silver-armored war god. Sorry to disappoint."
"Based on last night's footage, your performance didn't look very impressive. Do you know who the silver armored warrior is?"
"Is it true, Mr. Stark, that the silver-armored war god is one of your bodyguards?"
"Are you trying to take credit for your bodyguard's achievements?"
"Can you tell us the true identity of the silver-armored warrior?"
Tony Stark: "…"
Wrong script.
Why is everyone talking about Rimuru?
Silver Armored War God? What nonsense!
In the corner, Coulson curled up alone, trembling in the wind.
Never fear god-like enemies—fear pig-like teammates.
Even Agent Coulson couldn't handle this mess.
At this point… could he still write a full report on everything that just happened?
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