I am...

The team's entire worldview had been shattered. Gazing out into the boundless starry sky, they saw Earth floating as a distant orb in the vast darkness. They turned back to the metallic platform beneath them, with its sleek, futuristic devices and intricate machinery, and for a moment, they simply stood, utterly dazed.

Reason was screaming at them, frantically clawing for any semblance of normalcy. Every principle of science they knew shouted that this was impossible—that what they were seeing and experiencing was complete nonsense. And yet, here they were. They had been transported from the surface of Earth to the heart of space in an instant, all of them intact, and all together.

Those among them with knowledge of advanced technology were hit the hardest. To them, the technology on display was a glimpse of godlike power, a scientific impossibility bordering on myth. Teleportation of this magnitude—transporting living beings across such distances instantly—wasn't even a theoretical possibility. It was pure science fiction.

The scientists from the Equipment Department recalled the mission brief given by their superiors: "Evaluate the technological gap between them and us." At the time, they'd taken it as a standard assignment. But now, the enormity of that gap was painfully clear, and the task seemed laughably impossible.

One of them couldn't shake the image of a primitive tribe, armed with bone-tipped spears, watching a modern fighter jet roar overhead. They glanced down at their own equipment and felt a sense of futility. They were ill-equipped for this. They hadn't come prepared to face gods.

Voices murmured in hushed tones, and the team exchanged bewildered, wide-eyed glances. The air was thick with tension as they tried to comprehend their surroundings. Suddenly, the platform and portholes around them vanished, dissolving into thin air, replaced by an endless sea of stars.

Gravity disappeared instantly. A sensation of weightlessness overtook them, and their bodies drifted as if they were specks of dust, unanchored and insignificant within the vastness of the cosmos. Their surroundings—the stars, the distant galaxies, the black expanse stretching to infinity—felt overwhelmingly real.

The experience was visually stunning and psychologically unsettling. Unbeknownst to them, this illusion was created through a combination of panoramic holographic simulation and basic projection equipment—technology so advanced it could simulate an environment indistinguishable from reality.

Stark had used a simpler form of this tech in his public speeches, and Nick Fury, they had heard, even had a simulated beach to relax on aboard the space carrier. Yet here, the setup was far more immersive. And to increase the effect, Charlie had turned off the gravity simulation device.

Simulated gravity was standard on any version of the Watchtower, a feat of engineering far beyond anything on Earth. The device could generate gravitational fields on demand, adjusting with pinpoint accuracy to create any environment. With a flick of a switch, gravity could be removed, altered, or doubled, allowing heroes to train in extreme conditions. Vegeta would have felt right at home here.

Now, the team floated in zero gravity, their bodies unrestrained and drifting aimlessly, surrounded by stars in every direction. The psychological pressure was immense. Just seeing the endless star field, feeling their weightless bodies in the vastness of space, brought an overwhelming sense of powerlessness and insignificance.

Even those who suspected it was a simulation found themselves gripped by a visceral fear. They were completely disoriented, struggling against the innate survival instincts triggered by their floating, helpless state. They hadn't trained for space; they were utterly unprepared for this.

As they tried to orient themselves, a focal point appeared far off in the void. At first, it looked like a tiny star, but it grew larger with astonishing speed, as though they were hurtling toward it faster than light.

Gradually, a planet came into view—a vibrant world with seas and mountains, blue-green like Earth but distinctly different in its geography. They could make out strange animals and exotic landscapes, rivers carving across rugged terrain, and dense forests rich with life.

From high above, they saw sprawling cities with towering structures, their architecture alien yet undeniably advanced. They quickly realized that this was not Earth but a completely different planet. They were witnessing a world of life—another life-bearing world.

But unknown to them, this was Krypton, the fated homeworld of one of Earth's greatest champions. Though doomed in nearly every iteration of the multiverse, Krypton had birthed some of the most powerful beings in existence.

A murmur spread through the delegation. Questions flickered in their minds. Was this the home of the superhumans? Were they truly aliens?

The scene shifted, and in an instant, they found themselves closer, almost within the atmosphere of the alien world. A new sense of dread washed over them as they saw the bright red sun looming on the horizon, casting an ominous glow. It looked less like a star and more like a harbinger of death.

A deafening rumble shook the planet as the ground began to crack. From their perspective, they watched entire cities collapse, buildings splintering as if they were made of sand. Rivers of lava burst forth from the ground, spewing high into the atmosphere. Protective fields failed, shattered by an unimaginable force. The crust of the planet fractured and peeled, as molten rock and smoke filled the skies.

This was no ordinary simulation—it was as if they were standing within the apocalypse itself. The planet's violent destruction unfolded around them, every detail magnified and horrifyingly real. A few delegates screamed in terror as a pillar of fire erupted beneath them, nearly consuming them in its searing heat.

Then, in a dizzying shift, they were pulled away from the destruction, and the planet's last remnants dissolved into space.

Floating in the dark vacuum, the delegates found themselves staring at empty space, where the planet had once been.

For some, this was the most terrifying experience they had ever faced. They felt truly small and insignificant. The powerlessness they felt in the face of such destruction was paralyzing.

"What if this happened to Earth?" a voice whispered, fearfully voicing the thought gnawing at them all.

In the silence that followed, a bright light appeared far off in the distance. It moved with impossible speed, like a comet hurtling straight toward them. It grew larger, blazing through the star field in a fiery trail.

As it neared, they recognized the red-and-gold figure with a mixture of relief and awe. It was Iron Man.

"Good afternoon, everyone," came a confident, slightly amused voice from within the suit. "I hope you enjoyed the scenery I prepared. Beautiful, isn't it?"

The delegates, still reeling from the destruction of Krypton, struggled to comprehend his casual tone. Tony's armor hovered effortlessly in the zero-gravity, his voice steady and relaxed.

"But remember," he continued, "it's beautiful because it's dangerous. And that's the truth of the universe—magnificent and unforgiving."

The sight of Iron Man brought a strange comfort to the delegates.

"Hello, it's… it's good to meet you as well," Ivan Petrov said, finding his voice. A senior member of the Ninth Division, Petrov's tone was steady but respectful, conveying a professional politeness.

"Are you saying that we face both incredible opportunity and imminent danger… is that your message here?" Petrov asked.

"More or less," Iron Man replied smoothly. "We haven't had the pleasure of a formal introduction. But since I invited you here, let's keep things transparent."

Then, to the astonishment of the delegates, Iron Man's armor began to open. The golden visor lifted, and the entire suit separated, each part sliding apart smoothly with a series of clicks and whirs.

Beneath the armor was a man in a sharp, impeccably tailored suit, his goatee trimmed with precision. His eyes sparkled with confidence, an air of calm authority radiating from him. He floated effortlessly in the zero-gravity, as though he were born to it.

The opened Iron Man suit floated beside him like a silent sentinel, a mechanical guardian on standby, ready to shield or attack as needed. The contrast was striking—the unflappable confidence of Tony Stark against the wide-eyed bewilderment of the Earth delegates.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Anthony Edward Stark, but you can call me Tony Stark. And, as you can see…"

He paused, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His gaze swept over each of them, his expression carrying a spark of both challenge and amusement.

"…I am Iron Man."