Marvel's Iron Lady

S.H.I.E.L.D. handled all her troubles, and in exchange, Miss Stark provided Nick Fury with the location of the buried Mark prototype along with the collapsed cave and then departed with Pepper and the others from Saudi Arabia back to California.

Once back in California, she holed up in her Malibu villa, both to avoid certain people and to enjoy some peace and quiet. With S.H.I.E.L.D. handling the pressure, she saw no need to step out herself.

She spent nearly three months secluded in the villa, during which time numerous visitors came calling—from government officials to military departments, but Jarvis turned them all away, leaving Miss Stark undisturbed in her workshop, where she worked intently.

Throughout those three months, one person came by nearly every week, making the trip to her doorstep each time, only to leave alone.

"Miss, Colonel Rhodes is at the door again. This is his third visit this month. Do you think… perhaps you should let him in?"

In the underground workshop, Miss Stark was busy calibrating a freshly assembled suit of Iron Man armor that hadn't yet been painted. When Jarvis's voice chimed in, she put down her wrench, slipped off her gloves, and seated herself by the desk.

"How many times is that now?… Alright, let him in; he'll wear me down at this rate."

With a sigh, she brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, took a sip from the mug at her side, and wrinkled her nose—the coffee had gone cold.

For these last few months, Miss Stark hadn't left the villa or seen anyone, avoiding unnecessary troubles. However, her absence was not intended as a slight to Rhodes. She had simply been busy crafting a unique suit—his own personal War Machine.

At the door, Rhodes was caught off guard as the villa's main entrance, closed for two or three months, finally opened. After making nearly a dozen attempts and facing rejection every time, today's change was unexpected.

"Miss Stark has invited you inside, Colonel Rhodes. She's waiting for you in the workshop downstairs."

With a quick nod, Rhodes descended the steps from the entrance, walked through the garage, and into the workshop, where he found her waiting, noting the changes around him as he approached.

Last time, the garage was meticulously organized, the cars parked neatly in their designated spots. Now, they'd all been moved aside to create more space for her workshop, which already occupied half of the garage.

The floor now held a circular platform surrounded by a ring of metal railings, with various mechanical arms descending from the ceiling, each equipped with tools and devices.

"I figured I'd get the silent treatment from you for another month."

"As I told you, I'm busy, and you shouldn't bother me unless it's urgent."

Miss Stark, arms crossed and leaning casually against the desk, replied coolly as she looked at him, his face wearing an expression of tentative hope.

Why the pleading look, especially when he was among those who felt she'd gone too far? Most likely, S.H.I.E.L.D. was to blame.

Miss Stark hadn't paid much attention to how S.H.I.E.L.D. managed her public relations, probably the usual playbook—nothing of particular interest there.

"But that's no reason to ignore my calls, right?"

"Of course it is—since I was planning a surprise for you, a little gift, and I didn't want to spoil it."

Her expression softened as she suddenly smiled and clapped her hands. Not far from them, the workshop platform split into three sections, and a fresh suit of Iron Man armor, still unpainted, rose from the floor.

Before Rhodes was a dark gray Iron Man suit. Unlike the streamlined female version she'd previously worn, this one was bulkier and lacked the more elegant lines designed for her figure, opting instead for a heftier, industrial look focused on defense.

The forearm armor was fitted with raised weapon modules: two thick machine gun barrels at the top and two assault rifle barrels at the bottom, making for an impressive arsenal.

On the right shoulder was a twin-barrel rapid-fire cannon with firepower rivaling a destroyer's gun, while the left shoulder held a honeycomb missile array capable of turning enemies to shreds with a single command.

This armor's arc reactor, too, used new technology derived from the Tesseract isotopes. Unlike her own suit's bright light, this one emitted a dark red glow, adding a fierce touch to its industrial design.

Loaded with heavy firepower and dense plating, the suit looked every bit a mobile fortress, embodying its name—War Machine.

"This is my gift to you. What do you think? Do you like it?"

"Oh my God—this is what you were flying around in over Afghanistan?"

The sight had Rhodes, an officer with a military background, transfixed. His eyes locked onto the imposing figure before him, unable to look away.

Miss Stark had always believed that men couldn't resist the allure of hardcore toys like this, and as Rhodes gazed at the War Machine, built specifically for him, his mind buzzed with thoughts of "I want this," almost forgetting why he'd come in the first place.

Initially, he hadn't planned to drop by for a social visit; everyone involved at the Air Force command center knew all too well that she was the one behind the recent attacks in Afghanistan's war-torn regions.

The U.S. Department of Defense had been unable to determine how many perished in Miss Stark's retaliatory strikes in Afghanistan, and before intelligence agencies like the CIA could begin any investigation, someone had already shielded her from accountability.

As a special consultant to S.H.I.E.L.D., an agency under the World Security Council, she enjoyed a few privileges. Her unique value even allowed S.H.I.E.L.D. to "hold their noses" and cover up her actions, pulling off what might have otherwise been an impossible PR task.

Rhodes wasn't aware of her connection to S.H.I.E.L.D. or its existence, but he had been warned, along with everyone else at Air Force command, not to leak a single detail of what happened that day.

The warning came from high up in the Department of Defense, a level so far above him that even Rhodes, despite his position, couldn't fathom its reach. Naturally, this piqued his curiosity about the network of connections supporting her.

Yet now, seeing this War Machine before him, Rhodes foresaw a drastic change in the nature of warfare, the dawn of a new era of combat.

But that future hinged on one condition—that she was willing to introduce such technology to the battlefield.

"I'm sorry, Rhodes, but while this suit is yours, it's not entirely yours—"

"I'm giving it to you, not to wage war, but to protect you when you're in danger."

It was clear to anyone that deploying this suit on the battlefield in large numbers would revolutionize world order, forcing a complete rewrite of warfare as we know it.

Modern weapons, be it tanks, planes, ships, or missiles, would become as obsolete as a bow and arrow in the face of such advanced suits. Control the future, and you control the victory.

"This isn't a toy for kids, so I can't allow it to fall into anyone's hands but mine."

When Rhodes asked to try it out, Miss Stark readily agreed, handing him a black bodysuit for him to change into before helping him don the War Machine armor.

"Wow… it feels incredible."

Now outfitted in a piece of high-tech, full-coverage exoskeleton armor resembling medieval knightly garb, Rhodes flexed his arms to get a feel for the suit. It was hard to put into words what he felt.

"System self-check complete. Now loading training and tutorial mode. Please wait."

Jarvis's voice sounded in his ear, and a simple tutorial interface popped up before him, guiding him step-by-step on how to operate the suit, starting with basic movement. Within minutes, Rhodes was striding down the corridor, out of the garage, and soaring into the sky.

Before becoming head of the weapons development division, Rhodes had been an Air Force pilot with extensive tactical experience, someone who adapted quickly to new technology.

The tutorial program consisted of a dozen mini-challenges, much like a video game, each scored by Jarvis with gold, silver, or bronze medals, depending on performance.

With the guidance of the tutorial system Miss Stark had created with Jarvis, he mastered the suit's controls even faster than she had.

Miss Stark had also added a leaderboard to the tutorial for a bit of friendly competition among users.

Currently, there were only two names on it—Miss Stark and Peter Parker. She had originally held the top spot, but Peter, who had a custom control scheme for his Iron Man suit, had spent more time in training mode.

Now, as Rhodes completed his training, his name appeared on the leaderboard, bumping Miss Stark down as he claimed the number one spot.

Miss Stark monitored War Machine's stats from the workshop's projection system when her phone suddenly buzzed. Glancing at the screen, she broke into a smile.

It was a message from Nick Fury, notifying her that S.H.I.E.L.D. had wrapped up the public relations effort—and giving her a scolding.

He reprimanded her for handing over an ancient Iron Man prototype, practically rubble, that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tech team had barely managed to dig out of the Afghan mountainside. It was the most "shameless" thing he'd ever seen, he said.

Miss Stark chuckled and shot a text back.

It read, "As we agreed in black and white, you handle the PR; I hand over a prototype. Now, you can't turn around and blame me because it's an outdated model. I upheld the deal, you upheld the deal—everyone's happy, right?"

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