A streak of fire tore across the distant sky.
For a split second, it looked like a missile.
"Missile?!"
Panic rippled through the crowd. Heads snapped upward, voices rose, security tensed—
Then the searchlights ignited.
Beams of white light locked onto the incoming object, cutting through the darkness and revealing its shape.
Not a missile.
A man.
A man clad in steel.
He descended like a falling star, then—
Impact.
The armored figure slamd onto the exhibition platform in a controlled, deliberate landing. The ground shuddered, the pose unmistakable.
Heroic.
Calculated.
Unmistakably intentional.
Silence followed.
Then the shock hit.
"A… flying armored suit?"
"No way…"
Even Tony Stark straightened, the casual arrogance slipping from his expression for the first ti that night.
Around him, people rose to their feet without realizing it, eyes locked on the figure standing at the center of the stage.
The armor moved.
Panels shifted. Seams split.
From the ground, chanical arms extended upward, locking onto the suit and peeling it apart with surgical precision. Piece by piece, the tal shell disassembled—
Revealing the man inside.
Drex Valen stepped forward.
"Ladies and gentlen," he said, voice calm, asured, "welco to Blade Technology Industries."
A faint smile curved his lips.
"I'm Drex Valen."
He didn't need to raise his voice. The room hung on every word.
Tall, composed, and effortlessly commanding, he drew attention without trying. But even that presence struggled to compete with what everyone had just witnessed.
A machine that could fly.
—
Urd stood at the edge of the stage, montarily stunned.
So this was it.
This was the "revolutionary weapon" he'd kept hidden from her.
Not just revolutionary.
Disruptive.
—
"I'll skip the formalities," Drex continued. "You're not here for a speech."
He gestured behind him.
The chanical arms had already reassembled the armor onto a humanoid fra rising from the platform, presenting it in full view.
"This," he said, "is the product."
A beat.
"The War Machine."
He let the na settle.
"It will redefine modern warfare."
His tone didn't rise. It didn't need to.
"Mobility. Speed. Firepower. Precision."
Each word landed with quiet certainty.
"It's a tank that flies. A strike platform that moves like a fighter squadron."
—
No one spoke.
Not the diplomats.
Not the generals.
Not even the scientists brought in specifically to evaluate cutting-edge weapon systems.
They were staring.
Because they had all seen it.
It hadn't been wheeled in.
It hadn't been demonstrated on a screen.
It had flown.
—
"Top speed: Mach 2," Drex said.
The numbers dropped like stones into still water.
"Radar-absorbing coating across the exterior. Composite alloy armor."
"Power source: a palladium arc reactor. Operational endurance: twenty-four hours of continuous combat before refueling."
A murmur stirred, then died instantly as he continued.
"Striking force: three tons per punch. Arm strength: five tons."
"Armor integrity: resistant to anti-materiel sniper fire. Penetration requires armor-piercing explosive rounds or depleted uranium."
Sowhere in the audience, a pen dropped.
No one bent to pick it up.
"Armant includes ten anti-tank missiles. Range: one thousand ters. Laser-guided and thermal tracking."
"The palms house energy cannons capable of penetrating forty milliters of steel. Effective range: one hundred ters. Rapid activation, with adjustable burst modes."
He paused.
That was enough.
He hadn't overloaded it with weapons. It didn't need excess.
What it had was already devastating.
At most, a future version might include additional mounted systems. A shoulder-mounted machine gun, perhaps.
For now—
This was more than sufficient.
—
Tony Stark didn't blink.
His gaze was locked onto the arc reactor embedded in the armor's chest.
Miniaturization.
He hadn't cracked it yet.
And Drex Valen had not only solved it—he'd weaponized it.
That realization hit harder than any number Drex had listed.
—
Everyone in the room understood.
This wasn't just a weapon.
It was a shift.
A new category.
A new doctrine.
—
"Mr. Valen."
An Arican military representative stood abruptly.
He didn't bother with ceremony.
"How much?"
Direct.
Blunt.
Necessary.
Drex didn't hesitate.
"Four hundred million USD per unit."
A ripple of tension moved through the hall.
"Alternatively," he added, "paynt in secondary Kryptonite is acceptable. At a higher rate."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
asured.
Then Drex spoke again.
"Before you call it expensive—consider what it replaces."
His gaze swept the room.
"In both aerial and ground combat, this outperforms the majority of current systems. It doesn't compete."
"It dominates."
—
He could have asked for more.
Eight hundred million wouldn't have been out of reach for major powers.
But that wasn't the play.
Not yet.
Lower the barrier just enough.
Let them buy.
Let them deploy.
Let the results speak.
Then escalate.
Version two.
Version three.
Each more expensive than the last.
Each more necessary.
And once one nation moved—
The others would follow.
They always did.
—
The exhibition concluded in a storm of restrained urgency.
Deals weren't signed on the spot.
But intentions were clear.
Very clear.
—
Afterward, Tony Stark moved quickly.
He wanted a conversation.
Not about the armor.
About the reactor.
He didn't expect to be surpassed—especially not by soone younger.
But Drex Valen declined the eting.
Through Urd.
Clean. Efficient. Final.
Blade Technology Industries had already stepped into a different league.
At this rate, it might surpass Stark Industries long before Tony ever considered shutting down weapons production.
Two products.
Both world-altering.
That was all it took.
—
The War Machine units were produced by Anton and Ivan Vanko.
Drex provided the frawork, then stepped away.
They had suggested increasing the weapon load.
He refused.
"Save it for the next model."
—
From the sidelines, Urd watched the aftermath unfold.
She understood what had just happened.
This wasn't just a successful exhibition.
This was a turning point.
Just like with secondary Kryptonite, every nation placing orders had the sa idea:
Take it apart.
Study it.
Reproduce it.
—
They failed.
Completely.
The structure was deceptively simple.
But the core—
The arc reactor—
Remained beyond them.
And the integrated AI system only deepened the gap.
What they didn't even realize was that the third breakthrough sat quietly beneath everything else:
The shock absorption system.
Adapted from Kryptonian combat suits, it rendered recoil, impact, and kinetic stress almost irrelevant.
It wasn't just advanced.
It bordered on absurd.
—
Once it beca clear that War Machine, like secondary Kryptonite, couldn't be replicated…
The response was imdiate.
The United States restructured its military budget.
Orders were cut.
Funding redirected.
And a significant portion of those cuts ca from one place—
Hamr Industries.
The hit was brutal.
Stark Industries wasn't spared either.
—
Inside Stark Industries, dissatisfaction grew.
Obadiah Stane didn't hide it.
Tony Stark was no longer the undisputed genius of the weapons world.
Soone else had taken that title.
And his na was Drex Valen.
User Comments
0 comments from readers