Iron Man: When History Repeats

[Cazzik]

WASHINGTON D.C. - CAPITAL HILL
UNITED STATES SENATE ARMED SERVICES SUBCOMMITTEE ON EMERGING THREATS AND CAPABILITIES

“I’m sorry, are we boring you, Mr. Stark?” The question came from Senator Mullins of South Dakota. Before responding, Ethan stifled a second yawn and fought the urge to roll his eyes, “Boring me? I wouldn’t put it like that, exactly. If you want to call it unintentionally wasting everyone’s time, on the other hand….”

The Senator glared down at him from his seat. Mullins opted not to respond. Instead, Senator Wick from Virginia continued the conversation in a more diplomatic manner, “Mr. Stark, you yourself have stated that the country is vulnerable to outside threats. This statement was recently made following the events in Gotham City, in which you were a participant. Correct?”

Ethan nodded as the Senator continued, “We are trying to say that not only are we in agreement with you, but we are asking for your help in securing these vulnerabilities.”

“No, your colleagues are asking for military grade Iron Man tech to bolster the US armed forces. This is not the first time the federal government has made this ask and it’s not the first time that Stark Industries has said no. And yet, here we are. Doing the same dog and pony show that Congress has been doing with my dear old dad since he built his first set of armor in that cave.”

A commanding voice that had previously been silent responded to Ethan. It was deep and steady, seasoned in hard conversations, “Where are the Avengers, Mr. Stark? How about the Justice League or the Fantastic Four?”

Stark shifted his gaze to the California Senator, Michael Ashford. All things considered, as far as politicians went, he respected the man. Hell, he might even go as far as to say he liked him. And he brought up a valid point that Stark himself had been wrestling with since Gotham, “They’re not here, Senator. They’re not coming.”

Ashford nodded his head, “They are not coming. In fact, there are less superheroes now than ever before. In the past we put our hands in the lives of groups just like the Avengers or the X-Men. It has become apparent over the last several decades that we need to fend for ourselves. We cannot rely on an alien from another planet or a man with a magical ring. We have a duty to protect our citizens and we are asking you to help us do that.”

“I’m not unwilling to play ball with you people, but I won’t be handing over Iron Man technology to any government entity. Period,” Stark issued the statement with a hint of permanence.

**********

45 MINUTES LATER
ON THE STEPS OF CAPITAL HILL

Ethan took a long, deep breath and let the sunshine bathe his face in warm light. He despised dealing with politicians, especially the more arrogant ones. A voice came from behind him, “You know, you might get a little further with these guys if you didn’t always insult them.”

Stark’s head immediately lowered to his chest in a visible sign of exhaustion. He knew that gravely voice all too well. John Cole, Director of SHIELD, “Was this whole party your idea?”

The African American man stepped up alongside Ethan. He wore his typical blue SHIELD uniform, black eye patch across the left side of his face. His attire was in stark contrast to Ethan’s fine Italian suit. John shook his head, “No. I would have just shot you and taken the tech.”

Stark rolled his eyes, “You’re always so friendly, you know that? Anyway, I have things to do. World peace and all that.”

Ethan began walking away and John called out behind him, “We need to talk, Stark. They may be politicians, but they’re right. The Avengers aren’t coming. Gotham was just the first wave and you know it.”

Stark didn’t turn around, “Fine. I’ll get a meeting on the books.”

John Cole nodded, “See that you do.”

**********

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

The Children of the Atom Celebration was the single best day of the year. Well, maybe second to Christmas. Jake really couldn’t make up his mind which was better. It didn’t matter though. Today was Children of the Atom Day and nationwide there were parades and parties. Thirty years ago, the federal government created Mutant Day, later renamed, a national holiday celebrating a minority that had been not just persecuted but hunted as well. That was all in the past. Homo Superior and Homo Sapiens lived side by side in relative harmony now, at least for as long as Jake could remember in his fifteen years of life.

San Diego had one of the largest parties on the North American continent. Mutant powers were on display for entertainment, food vendors could be found every couple of feet, and world class musicians played soul shattering melodies. It was a great day!

He couldn’t remember exactly how many people attended this street celebration but he vaguely remembered hearing on the news that the city was expecting an additional 4 to 5 million visitors and from what he could tell, they were all here. He looked down at his phone as it buzzed. A text message from dad saying it was time to meet up near the taco truck they had agreed on as a meeting location for the family. He was the last one to arrive.

Jake saw his mom and dad standing in front of the food trailer. Dad was holding his younger sister and it looked like his older brother had just showed up with his girlfriend. Jake took a bite of his churro and waved so they could see that he was on his way over. That was the last time he would ever see his family. There was a bright flash of light and they were gone.

People screamed and started running as more lights rained down from above, snuffing out life wherever they landed. Jake dropped his churro and raised his eyes to the heavens and watched as several massive robots descended from the sky with the sole purpose of delivering death and destruction.

[Cazzik]

Stark took his welding mask off and whirled around on his stool, "Friday! Turn it up."

The volume on the television increased.

SPECIAL REPORT
LIVE COVERAGE FROM SAN DIEGO – PATRIOT NEWS NETWORK

ANCHOR: LANA CHO (PNN Nightly News)
An Asian woman with a somber expression appeared after the theme music had ended.

“We interrupt your regular programming with breaking, tragic news out of Southern California. I’m Lana Cho, and this is a special PNN bulletin.”

“Just hours ago, what began as a national celebration of peace and progress—the Children of the Atom Day festivities in San Diego—was turned into a nightmare.”

[Roll shaky footage: Screaming crowds, blasts of light, debris, and towering metal giants descending from clouds.]

“Unconfirmed reports are pouring in that multiple high-yield energy strikes targeted dense civilian populations attending the event, resulting in mass casualties. Eyewitnesses describe 'bright flashes' followed by the sudden vaporization of entire blocks. Survivors speak of towering, humanoid machines—some nearly six stories tall—raining down from the sky with mechanical precision and ruthless intent.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, what you’re seeing on the screen now are the first confirmed images of what appear to be—Sentinels.”

[Cut to archived footage from decades prior: rusty footage of original Mark I and II Sentinel models.]

“Yes, you heard that right. Sentinels—mutant-hunting machines thought to have been decommissioned and dismantled nearly three decades ago following the Xavier Accords—are back. Updated. Deadlier. And active.”

“At this time, federal and local authorities have not released an official statement, and communications with San Diego law enforcement are sporadic. S.H.I.E.L.D. has raised its global threat level to Tier Omega, and unconfirmed sources claim that the X-Men—or what’s left of them—are mobilizing.”

“The President is expected to address the nation within the hour. In the meantime, the Department of Mutant Affairs has issued an immediate shelter-in-place order for mutant communities across the West Coast.”

“We now go live to PNN correspondent Nico Gutierrez, reporting from just outside the San Diego perimeter. Nico?”

FIELD REPORTER: NICO GUTIERREZ

“Lana, we are just outside the exclusion zone that has been established by emergency responders. Behind me, you can still see smoke rising from downtown San Diego. We’ve spoken with dozens of survivors—many injured, traumatized. One fifteen-year-old boy told us he was eating a churro when a flash of light erased his entire family. The only word he could say through tears: ‘Sentinels.’”

BACK TO STUDIO: LANA CHO

“This is an evolving and deeply disturbing situation. We’ll continue to bring you verified updates as they become available. For now, PNN urges calm, preparedness, and unity.”

“This is not just a mutant issue. This is a human one.”

“We’ll be right back after this message—if we’re still here.”

Ethan stared wide eyed at the news footage. What the hell had just happened?

[Cazzik]

NEW YORK CITY – STARK TOWER
9:32 AM – MORGAN STARK’S OFFICE, EXECUTIVE FLOOR

The sunlight poured into Morgan Stark’s office, gleaming off the polished surfaces and casting long shadows across the minimalist decor. She sat behind her desk, fingers gliding across a holographic display when the door slid open without a knock.

Ethan Stark strolled in like he owned the place — which, technically, he still partially did.

Morgan didn’t even look up. “Sure. Come right in. Make yourself at home.”

Ethan smirked as he lowered the welding goggles from his forehead and tossed them onto the nearest chair. “You know me. Never liked knocking. Waste of a good entrance.”

She finally looked up, unimpressed. “Most people call first.”

“I’m not most people,” Ethan said, spinning a stool around and flopping onto it like a bored teenager at a press junket.

“No argument there,” she muttered, returning her attention to the glowing display before dimming it with a wave. “I watched the replay three times last night.”

“I know.”

“You’ve said almost nothing since. Not even a snide comment. That’s not like you.”

Ethan didn’t respond immediately. His gaze wandered to the panoramic window overlooking Manhattan. “It’s not like me,” he said finally. “That’s the part that’s bothering you?”

“What’s bothering me,” Morgan said, leaning forward, “is that something about that attack has you rattled. And when something rattles you, it means something big. So tell me—what aren’t you saying?”

Ethan exhaled and rubbed his face. “I don’t know anything. Not really. Just… a theory.”

“Then start theorizing.”

Before Ethan could answer, the office lights subtly dimmed, and a soft chime pinged from the glass wall behind them. Morgan turned just as the double doors slid open—unlocked remotely from outside.

John Cole stepped in without invitation, arms crossed, black eyepatch gleaming under the overhead lights. His blue SHIELD uniform looked out of place in the tower’s sleek aesthetic.

“You really need to upgrade your firewall,” he said casually. “Or maybe fire your security director.”

Morgan arched a brow. “Or maybe install a trapdoor under that spot you’re standing in.”

Cole smirked faintly and kept walking. “Stark.”

“Director Cole,” Ethan replied without standing. “If you’re here to tell me San Diego was an accident, I’ll save you the breath.”

Cole stepped in front of Morgan’s desk. “This isn’t about San Diego. This is about what comes after. That wasn’t random. It was strategic. Surgical. A message.”

Ethan stood, crossing his arms. “Let me guess. You want to form a new team. Something between the Avengers and the Suicide Squad—with you pulling the strings.”

Cole didn’t flinch. “I want something that can win. Something built to last.”

“I’ve seen how SHIELD handles ‘lasting.’ You run them into the ground and bury the bodies.”

Morgan sighed. “Okay, let’s all lower the testosterone levels by about fifty percent.”

Cole ignored her. “The next wave is coming, Stark. You know it. We don’t have the Avengers. We don’t have a Justice League. We don’t even have a backup plan.”

“I am the backup plan,” Ethan shot back.

“No,” Cole growled, stepping closer. “You’re the reminder that backup plans fail.”

The room went silent for a beat.

Morgan moved between them, calm but firm. “Director, I understand the urgency. But this—what you’re proposing—it needs more than fear and fast-tracking. We’re not handing over Iron Man tech, and we’re not building a team overnight.”

Cole looked her dead in the eye. “Then don’t build it overnight. Just build it. Before someone else does.”

Without another word, he turned and left the office. The doors hissed shut behind him.

Morgan rubbed her temples. “He’s right, you know. Even if he’s an ass about it.”

Ethan didn’t move. “I’ll consider it.”

Morgan raised a brow. “That’s all I’m getting?”

He glanced back toward the doors. “For now.”

**********

TRISKELION – S.H.I.E.L.D. BLACK LEVEL OPERATIONS WING
WASHINGTON D.C. – 8:47 PM

The lights in Director John Cole’s office were dimmed, casting long shadows over the reinforced steel and glass that made up the war room of the world’s last true spymaster. Screens lined the far wall, some playing muted news coverage of the San Diego massacre on loop, others displaying redacted intelligence streams. One corner showed satellite footage of the smoldering coast, marked with heat signatures and unknown energy readings.

Cole stood at the center of it all, a digital interface spreading across the surface of his desk. The room was silent except for the hum of processors and the faint buzz of classified systems spinning online.

He keyed in a voice code:
“Director Cole. Clearance Gamma Black.”

ACCESSING: THUNDERBOLTS PROTOCOL
STATUS: INACTIVE.

The holographic display ignited. A vault of superhuman dossiers appeared — roughly twenty candidates, each flagged for consideration under what was easily the most controversial contingency plan in SHIELD history.

Names and faces flashed by, most with warning icons attached. The deeper Cole scrolled, the more volatile the combinations became. Among them, a handful stood out — the kind that could change the outcome of a war... or start one.

FIRE ANT – Pym-tech derivative. Explosive ingenuity. Unstable.

U.S. AGENT – Jackson Davis. Super Soldier. Brutal. Loyal to the mission, not the method.

SOLDIER ONE – Sarah Bailey. Cybernetic. Strategically lethal. Mentally scarred but still standing.

HULK – Dr. David Banner. Contained. Barely. Classified as a last-resort deployment.

SHAZAM – Charlotte Cameron. Magic-based. Young, powerful, still finding her footing.

IRON MAN – Ethan Stark. Resource: unparalleled. Cooperation: unlikely.

RESCUE – Morgan Stark. Tactical, ethical, and potentially the conscience of any team.

Cole watched the files cycle, his expression unreadable.

This wasn’t about favorites. It was about necessity. About preparing for a future that was already bleeding into the present.

He cleared the display — all but one file.

QUAKE
Name: Rory Bennett
Status: Active
Affiliation: S.H.I.E.L.D. – Field Operations Division
Powers: Seismic Manipulation
Evaluation:

• Former team leader
  
  Trusted across multiple branches
  
  Highly effective in mixed-unit operations
  
  Recommendation: Team Command Candidate – PRIMARY

Cole studied her image for a long moment.

“She’s the one,” he murmured.

The Thunderbolts Protocol wasn’t active.
Not yet.
But it would be.

And when it was, Rory Bennett would lead it.

**********

NEW YORK CITY – UPTOWN HIGH-RISE PENTHOUSE
9:02 PM – STARK RESIDENCE

The city glittered beneath him, a sprawl of life refusing to slow down — even in the aftermath of horror. Ethan Stark sat on the balcony of his high-rise penthouse, sleeves rolled to his forearms, collar loosened. In one hand, a crystal glass of scotch. In the other, time.

He twirled the liquid slowly, letting it breathe.

He didn’t drink. Not yet. Not like his father once had. One glass was enough — and even that, he didn’t always finish.

With a soft hum of static, a blue hologram resolved into the shape of Dr. David Banner in the seat beside him.

“Always the nice view,” Banner said, looking out at the skyline.

“It keeps me from flying into space just to get some perspective,” Ethan replied dryly.

David gave a quiet chuckle. “You sure you’re not your father?”

“I’m better at pretending I’m not.”

A brief pause followed. The kind that came with trust, not discomfort.

Banner shifted his gaze from the city to Stark. “Cole’s putting something together.”

“I know.”

“Superhumans. Enhanced types. Government-approved, from what I hear.”

Ethan didn’t look at him. “It’s a bad idea.”

David didn’t argue. “Might be. But after Gotham and San Diego, no one’s waiting for the Avengers to come back. They want someone — anyone — who can hit back.”

“Hit back at what?” Ethan asked, voice quiet. “No demands were made. No manifesto. No villainous monologue. Just destruction. Efficient. Surgical.”

David nodded grimly. “Which makes it worse.”

Ethan set the glass down on the table between them. It clinked lightly.

“You think Cole can pull it off?” he asked.

“No,” David said. “Not without help. Not without someone in the room who knows how this stuff really works. The gear. The people. The politics.”

Ethan finally looked at him. “And you think that’s me.”

“I think it’s not him,” David replied. “And that’s reason enough.”

Ethan leaned back in the chair, eyes on the sky above. Planes crossed overhead like silent comets. Somewhere below, the world still moved — unaware of how close it had come to stopping.

“I hate the idea of putting capes back on just to make people feel safe,” Ethan said. “Feels like a lie.”

“Sometimes people need the lie,” David answered. “Sometimes they need someone to stand in front of them and say, ‘We’ve got this,’ even when they don’t.”

The silence returned, a little heavier this time.

Ethan picked up the glass again, gave it a slow swirl.

“To standing in front,” he said.

David gave him a small, knowing smile. “To not letting it fall behind us.”