Marvel's Iron Lady

It had been about half a month since Miss Stark's last press conference at Stark Industries. With her return, the usual business activities at Disaster Control had resumed their normal operations, restoring the company's former prosperity.

Meanwhile, Stark Industries had fallen into a state of semi-shutdown, losing substantial daily revenue as the halting of weapons manufacturing and sales took its toll.

But in the midst of this crisis, Miss Stark brought along her close, possibly-more-than-a-secretary assistant and her security team to Saudi Arabia, heading to the world's most extravagant city—Dubai, capital of the UAE.

Strictly speaking, Miss Stark planned to relax a little and make up for a belated birthday gift for her assistant. After all, on Pepper's last birthday, she had been stuck in an Afghan cave, spending her days surrounded by metal and Dr. Yinsen.

However, it wasn't just her, Pepper, and Happy Hogan's security team on board the plane. Seven large, high-tech silver alloy cases, sealed tight, each about the size of an adult, lay in the cargo hold.

Dubai, a bustling metropolis, is rightly reputed as the city of billionaires, with Arab oil wealth ranking alongside the global powerhouses of arms and narcotics trafficking. But the extravagant cars and flocks of beauties often advertised are a bit more elusive in reality—luxury cars are indeed common here, but not quite to the extent Dubai promotes, and while there are many beautiful women, this is an Arab nation. According to religious custom, women aren't meant to be seen in public.

Despite Dubai's modernization and easing of strict codes, the city still falls short of the splendor and openness of New York, or even half of it.

Miss Stark had a luxury villa in Dubai's affluent downtown area, where she hosted a grand birthday party for Pepper.

Before the party, however, she'd arranged for her security team to discreetly transport the seven large metal cases from the jet into the villa's basement, setting up activation bases and keeping them in standby mode.

The party, it turned out, was a cover for her true purpose in Dubai—a well-planned revenge mission.

The Ten Rings base she'd previously destroyed had only been a minor outpost of the terrorist organization.

The loss of a single outpost meant little to the Ten Rings as a whole; they had plenty of other strongholds, and their "holy crusade for freedom" would go on unthreatened.

In the past two weeks, Miss Stark had Jarvis initiate intense surveillance over the Middle East, particularly within Afghanistan. Within that brief period, he had confirmed six major Ten Rings strongholds, verified by S.H.I.E.L.D. intelligence operatives on the ground.

Inside those seven cases unloaded from the plane were fully equipped and ready Mark-7 Iron Man suits, designed as the core of her retaliatory assault, tasked with obliterating the enemy's strongholds.

Only with such a severe act of retribution could Miss Stark ease the lingering dissatisfaction in her heart. Since they insisted on endangering global order, they themselves deserved to be uprooted.

Night fell, and the villa was alight, bright as day. Music and neon lights pulsated as guests swayed, and waitstaff with champagne trays mingled among the revelers.

Miss Stark's villa, located at the edge of the rich district, was a massive, twenty-thousand-square-meter property with a streamlined, sci-fi design that reflected her personal taste and style.

Near the main road outside, a modestly-sized parking lot hosted nearly a hundred luxury cars, and the guests flowed in continuously.

Miss Stark hadn't joined the lively party despite footing the bill for it; she knew she wasn't here to enjoy the party but rather to use it as a distraction for her mission.

"Hey, darling, you look beautiful tonight."

Miss Stark found Pepper on the second floor of the villa's guest house, in a quiet lounge away from the noise. Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, a glass of gin in hand, she gazed out over the courtyard fountain and the guests gathered around it.

Pepper was dressed stunningly, in a deep, jewel-toned blue backless gown that hugged her figure, the skirt sweeping to the floor with a slit on the side showing off a teasing glimpse of her slender legs.

On her left wrist was a white bracelet with a jade-like texture, though it was entirely different from real jade. Her amber hair was swept into an elegant chignon, completing a look of sophisticated grace.

Her neck was adorned with a necklace set with champagne-colored gems, accentuating her pale skin and drawing the eye to her neckline.

Miss Stark remembered well: she had made that necklace herself in her workshop with leftover satellite materials from the Veronica satellite launch project and had casually gifted it to Pepper.

But seeing Pepper wear it at a public event like this had an undeniably deeper significance.

"Stop joking, boss. We're wearing the same design, just in different colors."

Pepper chuckled lightly at Miss Stark's remark, though her expression held a hint of hesitation.

"Besides, you're the heart of this party, so why are you hiding out here?"

Sensing Pepper's reluctance, Miss Stark slowly moved to her side and laid a hand on her bare shoulder.

"I just... well, I just think that we shouldn't have left when the company's in its current state, and especially not to throw a birthday party for me."

"To be honest, this puts me—and you too—in a difficult position, Natasha. It's not appropriate."

For Pepper, who'd always maintained a close relationship with Miss Stark, this situation was a first. Having her boss throw her a birthday party and leave the company during a critical period could easily stir up rumors within Stark Industries.

While Miss Stark might not care about these things, Pepper's own reservations ran deeper.

"There's nothing inappropriate about it, sweetheart. The company's matters are my concern, not yours. Besides, I decide who I want to throw a party for. I don't care what others think—I just want you to be happy."

As she spoke, Miss Stark rested her chin lightly on Pepper's bare shoulder, her gaze locked on Pepper's slightly brown-tinted eyes. With a soft smile, she seemed completely unconcerned about the worries that troubled her assistant.

"Now, let's stop fretting over imaginary issues. Who did you invite tonight? Seems like there's quite a crowd."

"Oh, mostly clients connected to the company and some local government officials and business elites we work closely with. All people with potential for investment; if handled correctly, they could become valuable allies."

"Well, well! I've mentioned before that I'd let you formally take over the company's operations at the right time, but here you are, already playing the boss, calculating potential clients. Isn't that a bit premature?"

Pepper blinked at Miss Stark's question and listed off what she knew, only to find her boss's hands mischievously tickling her waist, making her laugh uncontrollably.

The two laughed and played for a while, and a few minutes later, Pepper's face was flushed, her breathing slightly unsteady—anyone could see she was feeling something.

Miss Stark noticed Pepper's expression, then glanced at the electronic clock on the display shelf in the lounge before slowly releasing her hold on Pepper's waist.

"It's about time. Head downstairs and let them know to prepare for tonight's fireworks."

Her words, while simple, were also a form of rejection, even if they both already understood. Miss Stark, however, couldn't—at least not tonight.

Pepper's expression froze as she looked at her boss, biting her lip and muttering through clenched teeth, so softly it was almost inaudible.

"What… exactly do you see me as?"

From the moment she joined Stark Industries and became Miss Stark's personal assistant, their relationship had grown closer with each passing day.

Pepper knew well that Miss Stark wasn't like most women, who longed for the embrace of a strong man; she preferred the company of gentle, beautiful women.

It was no secret, at least in certain circles, that the Stark Industries heiress was into women. As her assistant, Pepper had dealt with the aftermath of her boss's drunken escapades more times than she cared to count, trying to handle the women Miss Stark had spent the night with.

For years, Miss Stark had tried to coax Pepper into her bed with flirtatious remarks, but Pepper had never seriously considered giving herself up, as she hadn't yet come to terms with such a departure from traditional views.

Only now, having realized she could no longer ignore her own feelings, had Pepper finally made a decision.

But before she could take that step, she was turned down.

Seeing the stiffness in Pepper's expression, Miss Stark seemed to catch on but offered no explanation. Instead, she leaned close to Pepper's ear, letting out a soft breath.

"Do you know… why I always add 'darling' when I call you?"

That breath, along with Miss Stark's whispered words, made Pepper's already tense body go limp. She collapsed onto the plush sofa.

Miss Stark didn't concern herself with whether Pepper fully understood her intent. She simply turned around and left the room, confident that her assistant could grasp her meaning without further explanation.

A few minutes later, Miss Stark made her way through the crowd, smiling at those who nodded to her, descending the spiral staircase and passing through a line of her own bodyguards stationed as a barrier on the basement level. She reached the sealed-off basement.

Above, she heard the sounds and vibrations coming through the ceiling—the fireworks show had begun. Her assistant hadn't let her down.

Surveying the seven towering metal crates in the basement, Miss Stark took out her phone and tapped the screen.

"Jarvis, how are the suits looking?"

"All seven units have completed diagnostics, Miss. They are ready for deployment at any time."

Jarvis's voice echoed through the phone's speaker, followed by the mechanical hum of the crates as they slowly opened, each revealing a Mark-7 Iron Man suit.

Miss Stark nodded, bending slightly as she gathered up the hem of her scarlet evening gown, pulling it up to her thigh.

"Prepare to activate the control program. The fireworks are underway, and the bursts of light and sound will provide the perfect cover."

With that, she kicked off her silver high heels and stepped into the Mark-7 suit's humanoid cavity as it opened before her, letting the metallic armor envelop her completely. Enveloped in darkness, an odd sense of security washed over her.

Out in the courtyard, guests from the party emerged from the guest house, admiring the dazzling fireworks display lighting up the night sky. Only Pepper, waiting anxiously for Miss Stark to appear, noticed her absence. But despite her vigil, she was met only with bursts of flame ascending with the fireworks.

At that moment, Pepper seemed to realize something. She pushed through the crowd frantically, ignoring the strange looks from the guests as she dashed through each room of the villa, searching for her boss in the red dress. But she found nothing.

Biting her lip, she returned to the lounge, retrieved her phone, and dialed Miss Stark's personal number. Only a busy tone greeted her.

"Miss Potts has called again. This is the twelfth time; perhaps you should answer, Miss?"

Twelve thousand meters above ground, seven streaks of fire shot through the sky at speeds far beyond the sound barrier, as if determined to leave the stars themselves behind.

As Jarvis's voice echoed once more, Miss Stark merely pursed her lips, providing no response. Instead, she hung up on Pepper again, disconnecting her phone from Stark Industries' satellite array entirely.

Two hours later, with Miss Stark and Jarvis piloting the seven Mark-7 suits at top speed, they flew over Iran, crossed Afghanistan's border, and reached the war-torn desert nation once more.

High over Afghanistan, the seven Iron Man suits split off in different directions.

Miss Stark's destination was simple: a small town called Gulmira, located at the mountainous edge of Afghanistan—a hometown long reduced to rubble by weapons Stark Industries had produced, where Dr. Yinsen's home had once stood.

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