Bulma emerged from backstage as Smith concluded his remarks, moving to the podium with the confident stride of someone who'd presented to far more intimidating audiences. At sixteen, she projected the poise of someone decades older, a side effect of growing up in a family of world-changing inventors.
"Hello everyone," she said, her voice clear and steady. "I'm Bulma, chief scientist at Universal Capsule Company."
Camera shutters clicked in a sustained fusillade, flashes creating a strobe effect that would have intimidated most teenagers. Bulma simply smiled through it.
"I believe the products we're developing will revolutionize daily life for millions of people worldwide. We're not making incremental improvements, we're building the future."
The reporters' interest was polite but measured. A sixteen-year-old scientist made for an interesting human interest angle, but without a proven track record or visible product, she remained a footnote to the larger story. Tony and Smith were the real news, Bulma would need to deliver something groundbreaking to shift that dynamic.
A reporter near the middle raised his hand. "Mr. Doyle, can you tell us what sector your company focuses on? What kind of products should we expect?"
Another jumped in before Smith could answer. "Given the name 'Universal Capsule', is this pharmaceutical? Medical technology?"
"Storage solutions?" someone else suggested.
"Military applications?" That question came with a hint of concern, the reporter clearly wondering if this press conference would reveal yet another weapons manufacturer.
Christine Everhart cut through the speculation with a different angle. "Mr. Doyle, Tony's been given the nickname 'Iron Man.' What should we call you?"
The room fell silent, everyone recognizing the significance of the question. Nicknames carried weight in the emerging superhero landscape. They shaped public perception, created brands, became shorthand for values and capabilities.
Smith felt a visceral rejection of "Superman" as a moniker. Too much baggage, too many expectations, too much similarity to figures from his previous life that ended badly. The flag-cape design flashed through his mind, Homelander's aesthetic, fascism dressed as heroism.
Before he could respond, Tony leaned into his microphone with theatrical timing. "God."
The single word hung in the air.
"Smith's nickname is God," Tony continued, then leaned closer to Smith and lowered his voice to a stage whisper that the microphones still caught. "We've gone way over time. Rhodes is going to have an aneurysm."
Indeed, Colonel Rhodes stood at the side of the stage making increasingly urgent time-out gestures. The press conference had exceeded its allotted window by fifteen minutes, and other groups had the venue booked for subsequent events.
Smith nodded to the reporters. "Thank you all for your time. We'll have more information about Universal Capsule Company's product launch soon."
He, Bulma, and Tony exited stage left, leaving the reporters shouting final questions at their retreating backs. Backstage, they found Pepper waiting with a tablet full of urgent notifications.
"Mr. Doyle," she said, her assistant's efficiency kicking in immediately. "Stark Industries has a board meeting scheduled in three days. As a major shareholder, your attendance is required."
"I'll be there," Smith confirmed.
He and Tony talked for a few more minutes, comparing notes on the press conference's reception, discussing potential fallout from going so spectacularly off-script, before Smith collected Bulma and headed for the back exit where John Wick waited with their vehicle.
Tony left through a different door with Pepper, already fielding calls from board members who'd watched the press conference with varying degrees of horror and excitement.
The immediate market reaction was seismic.
Stark Industries' stock price, which had been in freefall since Tony's weapons announcement, reversed course instantly. Within an hour of the press conference's conclusion, the stock had recovered 40% of its losses. By market close, it would exceed its pre-Afghanistan value.
Investors saw opportunity everywhere. Tony's armor represented revolutionary technology with military and civilian applications. The Iron Monger's existence proved the concept could be scaled up. And now two superhumans, one the CEO, one a major shareholder, were publicly aligned with the company.
Wall Street analysts scrambled to upgrade their ratings. Buy recommendations flooded investment newsletters. Retirement funds and hedge funds alike poured money into Stark Industries, betting that this was ground zero for a new technological revolution.
Combat robotics. Personal powered armor. Energy systems compact enough to fit in a human chest. The implications were staggering.
And beyond the technology, there was the star power. Tony Stark, billionaire genius playboy, now also Iron Man. Smith Doyle, mysterious businessman with Superman-level abilities, nicknamed "God" by his friend and ally.
The narrative practically wrote itself.
Smith returned to the Fraternity's headquarters to find every television in the building tuned to news coverage. The press conference dominated every channel, cable news, network broadcasts, even financial networks were running the footage on loop.
A split-screen image had emerged as the default visual: Tony at the podium declaring "I am Iron Man" on the left, Smith in mid-flight with energy crackling around his hands on the right.
The news anchor's voice provided narration. "Tony Stark's revelation as Iron Man has sent Stark Industries stock soaring, with investors betting on a technological revolution. But the emergence of Smith Doyle, publicly known only as 'God', raises equally significant questions."
The coverage cut to earlier press conference footage. "Mr. Doyle, when asked about his role in protecting civilians, emphasized institutional responsibility rather than personal heroism. 'Call the proper authorities,' he told reporters. 'That's what taxes pay for.'"
The anchor reappeared. "Some analysts speculate that Doyle's abilities may stem from a breakthrough in super soldier serum research, similar to what created Captain America in the 1940s. Stark Industries has not confirmed or denied involvement in such research."
Fox changed channels. More coverage, different angles, same fundamental story. Most outlets praised both Tony and Smith, framing them as heroes and innovators. A minority expressed concern about accountability, about power without oversight, about what it meant when individuals possessed capabilities that exceeded institutional control.
Bulma received occasional mentions, usually as a human interest footnote, occasionally with photos from the press conference. But her coverage was minimal compared to the two men who'd demonstrated superhuman capabilities on camera.
Smith watched the coverage with wry amusement. "Never thought I'd become a household name quite this quickly."
Fox approached, tablet in hand showing various social media feeds. All of them featured Smith or Tony prominently. "Boss, I thought maintaining anonymity was part of the plan."
Smith had considered operating from the shadows, the mysterious benefactor, the hidden hand. But that strategy made sense for street-level heroes, for people vulnerable to retaliation or public scrutiny.
He was neither of those things.
"Anonymity stopped being practical the moment I engaged Iron Monger in public," Smith said. "At this point, hiding would just make me look suspicious. Better to control the narrative."
Fox nodded, accepting the logic. Tony Stark could admit his identity without consequence, fame, wealth, and technology provided insulation. Smith had even more power at his disposal. What did he have to fear?
"Speaking of narratives," Fox continued, "Pepper called. The Stark Industries board meeting is in three days, and your attendance is mandatory. Also, you're needed at the groundbreaking ceremony for our new facility, and we need to finalize the product launch timeline."
Smith considered the schedule. "Establish a foundation, call it the Doyle Foundation or something equally generic. Its purpose is compensating civilians for property damage caused by superhuman conflicts."
He thought about the cars he and Obadiah had destroyed, the buildings damaged, the infrastructure torn up. "When damages are caused by my actions or the Fraternity's operations, the foundation processes claims and pays out quickly. No bureaucratic delays."
"Understood. I'll have our lawyers set it up."
"As for the base construction," Smith continued, "push the timeline harder. I don't care about overtime costs. Those Chinese infrastructure companies, have them work around the clock. I want to show these American contractors what real construction speed looks like."
Fox made notes. "Even accelerated, we're looking at significant time. The facility's footprint is massive."
"I know. Just make it as fast as physically possible."
"And the product launch?"
"One week," Smith decided. "Book a major venue, the Chinese Theater in Los Angeles works, or find something equivalent in New York. Make it an event."
He considered the guest list strategically. "Invitations go to Tony Stark obviously, SHIELD's leadership, General Ross from the military's bioweapon division, CIA and FBI directors. Anyone with budget authority for advanced technology."
Fox's eyebrow rose. "We're marketing to government and military exclusively?"
"The scouter isn't a consumer product," Smith explained. "It's threat assessment technology for professional security applications. The market is governments, militaries, corporate security firms, and well-funded heroes."
He didn't mention that the scouters would also expose Skrulls hiding among humanity, or that they'd give street-level heroes significant tactical disadvantages when facing equipped opponents. Those were features, not bugs.
"Price point?" Fox asked.
"High. Cover all R&D costs and then some. This is bleeding-edge technology, price it accordingly."
Fox nodded and departed to begin implementation, leaving Smith alone with his thoughts and the endless news coverage.
On screen, his image repeated, flying, fighting, speaking at the press conference. He'd wanted visibility, wanted influence, wanted to shape this universe toward better outcomes.
Well, he'd certainly achieved visibility.
Now came the hard part: living up to the name "God" without becoming the monster that name could create.