Laughter rippled through the hearing room following Tony's prosthetic device comment. Smith leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching the proceedings with clinical interest. He knew Tony's playbook well enough—irreverent humor masking serious strategic maneuvering. The question was what obstacles the committee would throw at him.
Tony ignored the laughter, maintaining his casual posture. "That's the best descriptor I could come up with, Senator."
The committee chairman's face reddened. "It's a weapon. The Iron Man device is a weapon system."
"If your priority is actually the welfare of the American people," Tony countered smoothly, "then it's a prosthetic medical device that happened to save my life."
"My priority is to ensure the Iron Man weapon is delivered to the United States military for proper oversight and deployment."
Tony's expression hardened. "Impossible. I am Iron Man. The suit and I are one integrated system. You can't separate us."
He leaned forward for emphasis. "Handing over Iron Man would be like handing over myself—which constitutes either indentured servitude or prostitution, depending on which state's laws we're citing. Either way, not legal. So I can't give it to you."
More laughter erupted from the gallery. The chairman's jaw clenched.
"Listen, I'm not an expert—" the senator began.
Tony pounced immediately. "Of course you're not an expert in prostitution law. Come on, you're a senator. You have people for that."
He slapped the table and threw up a peace sign to Pepper and Happy behind him. The gallery's laughter intensified, some people actually applauding.
The chairman powered through, raising his voice. "I'm not a weapons expert. But we have one available to provide testimony."
His tone shifted to something more formal. "I want to call Justin Hammer, the Department of Defense's current primary arms contractor."
Tony's head swiveled toward the side entrance. Justin Hammer entered on cue, his suit expensive but somehow ill-fitting, his gait carrying false confidence.
"Well, I just saw Justin Hammer walk in," Tony announced to the room, "but I still don't see any weapons experts."
Hammer approached the witness seating area, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Ha! That's good. Very funny."
He gestured dramatically at Tony. "But I'm not the expert here, Senator. You are, Tony. You're the genius!"
Hammer addressed the committee directly. "Senator, if you'll allow me the floor?"
The chairman nodded permission.
"Maybe I'm not the foremost expert," Hammer continued, his voice taking on a rehearsed quality, "but you know who was? Your father—Howard Stark. The lion of American industry, the father of modern military technology."
He paused for effect, clearly pleased with his own rhetoric. "But let's understand something—Howard wasn't a hippie or an idealist. He was a pragmatist who understood threats."
Hammer's expression shifted to something more serious. "We all know why we're here. Over the past six months, Tony Stark has created what amounts to a weapon of unprecedented capability. But he insists it's merely defensive—a shield, not a sword."
"He wants us to trust him. To believe he'll always use this power responsibly." Hammer shook his head slowly. "I genuinely wish I could feel that safe. I wish we lived in a world where I didn't need to lock my door at night."
His voice gained intensity. "But this isn't some peaceful utopia. We live in a dangerous world with dangerous actors. And Mr. Stark—brilliant as he is—may not always foresee every threat before it manifests."
Hammer straightened, adopting a statesman's pose. "Thank you. God bless Iron Man, and God bless America."
He sat down, and the chairman immediately began applauding. Several other committee members joined in.
"Well said, Mr. Hammer," the chairman announced. "Now, we'd like to call our next witness—Colonel James Rhodes, United States Air Force."
Tony's head whipped around, surprise evident across his features. "Rhodey? What?"
Colonel Rhodes entered from the rear of the chamber, his Air Force dress uniform immaculate, his bearing military-perfect. Every eye in the room tracked his progress toward the witness area.
Smith watched Rhodes with analytical detachment. The colonel was competent, loyal to a fault, and currently stuck in an impossible position—testifying about his best friend's technology to a committee that wanted to confiscate it.
Tony stood and met Rhodes halfway, extending his hand. They shook, the gesture carrying weight beyond professional courtesy.
"Rhodey, I didn't expect you here," Tony said quietly.
"Had to come," Rhodes replied, his voice equally low. "Accept the reality."
Rhodes moved to the rightmost witness chair and settled in, his posture rigid with discomfort.
The chairman's voice carried satisfaction. "Colonel Rhodes has compiled a comprehensive report on Iron Man weapons technology. Colonel, please turn to page fifty-seven, paragraph four, and read it aloud."
Rhodes's expression shifted to confusion. "You want me to read one specific paragraph from the report?"
He glanced at Tony, then back to the committee. "I thought I was here to deliver a full briefing with detailed analysis and recommendations."
The chairman smiled without warmth. "I understand your preference, Colonel. But we're working with time constraints today. Please proceed with the designated paragraph."
Rhodes held up the report, his frustration barely contained. "Senator, if you'd actually read the full document, you'd understand that extracting that particular paragraph completely misrepresents the report's conclusions."
"I'm sure it provides valuable context," the chairman said dismissively. "Please read it aloud, Colonel. That's an order."
Rhodes took a deep breath, visibly composing himself. "Yes, sir."
He found the page and read in a flat, professional tone. "Iron Man technology operates independent of any government oversight or command structure, and therefore presents potential risks to national security and American interests."
The chairman nodded with satisfaction, but Rhodes continued before he could be interrupted.
"However, my conclusion—based on comprehensive analysis—is that Iron Man's benefits substantially outweigh any theoretical risks. That's why my recommendation is to—"
"Thank you, Colonel," the chairman cut in sharply. "That will be sufficient."
Rhodes ignored him and pressed forward. "—integrate Mr. Stark into military advisory capacity while respecting operational independence. The technology should remain—"
"Colonel," the chairman said louder, his patience exhausted.
Tony leaned toward his microphone. "You know, I'm not big on being part of command structures. But I could consider a position as Secretary of Defense—fewer hours, better pay, corner office with a view."
The gallery erupted in laughter again. Rhodes took a long drink of water, using the gesture to hide his expression.
The chairman powered through the noise. "Colonel, I'd like you to present the video footage referenced in your report."
Rhodes set down his water glass. "Senator, I don't think it's appropriate to release those videos publicly. They contain sensitive intelligence—"
"I understand your concerns, Colonel," the chairman interrupted with false patience. "But the committee would greatly appreciate your expert commentary on the footage."
Rhodes's shoulders sagged fractionally—the posture of a man recognizing a losing battle. "If you're ordering me to, sir... please bring up the videos."
The large display screens flanking the witness area flickered to life, showing grainy surveillance footage.
"Intelligence data indicates," Rhodes said mechanically, "that the devices shown in these videos are attempted recreations of Mr. Stark's armor technology. This has been confirmed through allied intelligence services and ground-level sources."
The footage showed crude approximations of the Iron Man suit—bulky, poorly articulated, obviously inferior.
"These counterfeit suits are likely operational at this point," Rhodes continued, "though their capabilities remain—"
Tony pulled out his phone, fingers moving rapidly across the screen. "Hold on. Let me see that footage properly."
He pointed the phone at the display screens. Lines of code began scrolling across both screens, the surveillance footage freezing mid-frame.
"I'm commandeering your display systems," Tony announced casually. "I need them for a proper demonstration. Time for some transparency."
The chairman half-stood from his seat. "What is he doing? Someone stop—"
"Please direct your attention to the screens," Tony said, still manipulating his phone. "I believe this footage is from North Korea."
The display changed, showing different footage—testing grounds with crude Iron Man knockoffs attempting basic operations. One suit took three steps, wobbled, then collapsed. When the pilot tried to arrest the fall, the suit's weapon systems activated accidentally, riddling nearby technicians with gunfire.
The room went silent, the comedic atmosphere evaporating instantly.