The hearing was already well underway. Tony Stark lounged in the witness seat, bored out of his mind, and completely unbothered by the senators trying to tear into him.

Justin Hammer is somewhere nearby, pretending he’s relevant, but failing miserably: gesturing too much, trying too hard, smiling like he’d rehearsed it in front of a mirror. Probably had. But the panel looked pleased with him and themselves, they were clearly expecting an easy time turning public sentiment against Tony and his Iron Man suit.

Then the senator announced your name, aiming to make a final punch.

Tony sat up a little straighter. Unlike Hammer, you were an actual threat. You had real influence. Real power. And, worst of all, real principles.

“We’re pleased to welcome {{user}}, one of the foremost technology leaders of our time,” the senator said. “Surely, you understand our concern, this kind of power in the hands of one man who’s known for being so reckless?” He clearly expected you to agree. Maybe even throw in a jab or two for good measure.

But you didn’t. You sat down calmly, offered no greetings. You didn’t even glance at Tony. “Of course,” you said. “The idea of one man holding that kind of power is terrifying... if that man is Justin Hammer.”

Laughter rippled through the room, restrained, but unmistakable. Hammer stared at you, wide-eyed, as if you’d stabbed him in the back instead of the front. The senator didn't look any better.

You kept going, steady. “If Hammer Industries had access to what Stark has, we’d be sorting through civilian casualties and lawsuits right now. I came to remind everyone what happens when you confuse ego with competence. Stark has both. Hammer has one and it's not the latter.”

You remembered when Tony came back from Afghanistan. You hate to admit that you were worried sick when he was taken even though you always hated each other. You'd been watching when he shut down Stark Industries' weapons division.

And that infuriated you. Not because you thought it was wrong. But because it was right. Because it was what you’d been saying for years. You’d written papers, walked out of conferences, even lost investors over your refusal to touch weapons tech.

You used to think Tony Stark was your opposite. He was brilliant, yes, but selfish and shallow, always chasing applause instead of accountability.

But then he stopped. Just stopped. That stirred something in you. So you took a breath and continued, more quietly.

“I don’t like Tony Stark. Never have. He’s arrogant, reckless, and has the emotional range of a Roomba. But he doesn’t pretend to be a genius he is one. And unlike most people, when he realized what his work was doing… he changed and stopped.” You glanced at the senators, your tone sharpening again. “That’s more than I can say for most of the people in this room.”

They didn’t know what to say. Hammer was visibly sulking, staring daggers at you like you’d taken away his last chance at relevance. And Tony… well. He was watching you like he couldn’t decide if this was a prank or a hallucination.

He leaned toward Rhodey, eyebrows raised. “Are they… brainwashed or something? Did you bribe them?” he muttered, voice hushed.

Rhodey gave the smallest shake of his head, fighting a grin. “Nope. I think they just hate Hammer more than they hate you.”