Weeks had passed since Obadiah Stane made sure Raza and his Ten Rings cell would never speak again. That unfinished business in Gulmira had left a stinging reminder. The Mark I—the crude but functional power suit Tony Stark had cobbled together in a cave—had somehow survived the desert's cruelty. Stark's escape was legendary, but the armor's remains were equally valuable. When a private retrieval team unearthed it from the sands, they brought back more than melted metal—they brought back ambition. Obadiah's ambition.
Now in a cold, sterile lab far beneath Stark Industries headquarters, Stane stood amid six elite engineers. These were not corporate employees—they were hired off the grid. People with reputations that existed in the margins: former DARPA scientists, banned MIT minds, Eastern European robotics outlaws.
In the center of the chamber, a rotating 3D hologram of the Mark I hovered above a steel pedestal. A dozen projectors beamed overlapping blueprints, thermal mappings, and stress tests. None of them made the engineers any more confident.
"It's primitive," muttered Dr. Aldritch, one of the consultants. "But ahead of its time."
"Primitive?" Obadiah snapped. "Tony built this in a cave. With a box of scraps. And you're telling me—after two weeks, with full funding—you can't even replicate the power source?"
Silence.
Dr. Chen, who had defected from a South Korean military robotics program, adjusted her glasses and stepped forward. "The suit itself isn't the main problem. It's the arc reactor. We've tried to reverse-engineer the recovered components, but the miniaturization defies all conventional energy compression theory."
Stane clenched his jaw. "Then unconvention it. Use what he used."
"We don't know what he used," Dr. Gruman cut in, tone tense. "Every component has been fused. The heat destroyed data signatures. We're working blind."
Stane stomped toward the console, cigar burning low between his fingers. He exhaled, frustrated, and jabbed a button. The projection shifted to the core—the arc reactor.
"This. This is what I want."
Dr. Chen sighed. "We can make a larger version. We have that prototype from his first years. But the miniaturized one? It's like asking someone to fit a nuclear submarine reactor into a wristwatch."
Obadiah's voice turned ice cold. "You have Stark Industries' full R&D archives. Every toy, every classified experiment. And you have me. Make it happen."
They nodded, slowly, nervously.
Behind the scenes, guards increased their patrols. Section 16 was now under high security. Even Pepper Potts couldn't authorize entry. And that, more than anything, told Tony Stark something was deeply wrong.
———
Down below, deep in his private workshop—the same place where he'd crafted the new arc reactor now embedded in his chest—Tony Stark was working alone.
The lab was a harmony of light and metal. Dozens of arms hovered overhead like curious serpents. J.A.R.V.I.S. monitored everything from biometric vitals to air purity. The Mark II prototype stood silent in the corner—half completed, its chest cavity open like a ribcage waiting for a heart.
Tony had been reviewing internal server reports. Something didn't add up. Dozens of shipping manifests had been moved to a restricted server he didn't recognize. Obadiah's signature was on all of them.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., show me activity logs from Obadiah's credentials in the last four weeks."
A stream of encrypted logs appeared. Many had been wiped clean. Others rerouted through a ghost drive.
"That's not normal," Tony muttered.
"Sir, the ghost drive appears to be a legacy directory. Locked with executive clearance, but not standard architecture. Possibly custom-encrypted."
Tony stood and looked toward the stairwell leading to the house above. Then he tapped his wrist interface.
"Pepper, can you come down here?"
A few minutes later, Pepper Potts entered the lab, heels clicking on the polished floor. Her expression was concerned.
"Tony? You sounded urgent."
He handed her a slim Stark Industries USB drive.
"I need you to go into my office. Plug this into the mainframe. There's a ghost drive—hidden under Obadiah's executive files. I need everything on it. Shipping manifests, project logs, anything with the keywords: Section 16, Gulmira, Mark I."
Pepper's brow furrowed. "Tony, if you're asking me to spy on the company's acting CEO—"
"I'm asking you to find out what's being hidden from me," he interrupted, voice calm but firm. "Obadiah's hiding something. He's using my company's assets to build something. Possibly to replicate the armor."
"This could put you in danger. Both of us."
He nodded slowly. "That's why I'm asking you, and not someone else. Because I trust you. And I wouldn't ask unless it mattered."
Pepper looked down at the USB drive in her hand.
"What if we're wrong?"
Tony met her eyes. "Then we'll know. But if we're right—we can't let him finish whatever he's started."
She took a breath, steadying herself. "Alright. I'll do it."
Tony smiled faintly. "Be careful, Pep."
She turned and walked up the stairs, the USB clenched tightly in her hand, the weight of betrayal and loyalty balancing on her next move.
--
Pepper Potts moved quickly but calmly through the gleaming corridors of Stark Industries' upper floors. Security guards offered nods; administrative assistants smiled. She returned the gestures with polite professionalism, masking the thrum of anxiety pounding in her chest.
Inside Tony's office, she shut the door behind her and walked to the desk. The room was dim, lit only by the evening skyline glowing behind the glass. She inserted the USB Tony had given her and logged into the secure terminal. She searched for a while and found the ghost drive folder.
Pepper's hands hovered over the keyboard. She typed quickly, her eyes scanning rapidly unfolding files.
"Blueprints… shipping logs… video records," she muttered.
She opened one of the files. A schematic of the Mark I armor rendered in 3D—an exact duplicate of Tony's original cave-built suit. Another window contained material manifests sent to an isolated research sector.
"Sector 16? What are you up to, Obadiah?"
Her breath caught when she opened a video along with it.
It show a video where the terrorists were facing the front of the camera with a disoriented Tony Stark in the middle being held hostage. One of them seem to be the leader were speaking in unfamiliar language straight to the camera. From a brief look, it appears that they are asking for some ransom.
Pepper, out of her curiousity decided to translate the language.
"You did not tell us that the target you paid us to kill was the great Tony Stark. As you can see, Obadiah Stane..."
"Oh my god..." Pepper whispered, hand trembling.
"... your deception and lies will cost you dearly. The price to kill Tony Stark has just gone up."
She downloaded everything. Blueprints, logs and the video. The USB drive blinked furiously as the data transferred.
Then she heard it.
The door opened.
Obadiah Stane's voice filled the room.
"Pepper?"
She froze. The USB was still extracting. Her eyes darted to the monitor. 92%... 93%...
"Pepper, what are you doing in Tony's office this late?"
She turned. He was smiling—but it was the wrong kind of smile. It was tight and predatory.
"I needed to pull some files for the audit," she lied quickly. "Tony's been too busy, so I figured I'd get ahead of the paperwork."
Obadiah walked in slowly. "You've always been very thorough."
Behind her, the USB dinged softly. Transfer complete.
Pepper closed the screen, pulled the drive, and tucked it into her jacket.
"I was just leaving," she said, smiling thinly.
Obadiah nodded. "Of course. Let me walk you out."
She stepped past him, keeping her pace steady. The hallway outside stretched like a gauntlet. Her heels clicked too loud.
Then, at the end of the corridor—like fate itself—Agent Phil Coulson appeared.
"Ms. Potts," Coulson called. "Do you have a moment?"
Pepper exhaled with visible relief. "Agent Coulson! Yes, of course."
Obadiah narrowed his eyes. "Agent Coulson?"
Coulson extended his badge calmly. "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. I believe we had an appointment?"
Obadiah smiled, stiffly. "I wasn't aware."
Pepper took the opportunity. "We're already late. Excuse us."
She stepped quickly past Coulson. The agent turned and flanked her as they exited. She didn't look back.
Obadiah watched them go. His expression hardened. His smile vanished.
"Security," he muttered into his comm. "Follow them. Don't interfere. Just watch."
He turned back toward the office, a storm gathering behind his eyes.
--
Obadiah Stane moved like a phantom through the Malibu estate's auto-gated entrance. Security was trivial. His clearance was still valid. The retinal scanner beeped green. He smiled as he stepped inside.
Tony didn't hear him.
He had just leaned back in his chair when the world began to fade. A ringing in his ears. Then pressure.
Obadiah was behind him. One hand gripped Tony's shoulder, the other held a sonic paralytic emitter against the base of his skull. There was a sharp tone—and then Tony collapsed.
His body convulsed briefly, then went limp, eyes wide in horror, unable to move.
Obadiah crouched next to him, calm, smiling.
"I told them—told the board, told your father's friends—you weren't ready to lead."
Tony's mouth moved, barely. No sound came out.
"Breathe. Easy, easy. You remember this one, right? It's a shame the government didn't approve it. There's so many applications for causing short-term paralysis. Tony. When I ordered the hit on you, I worried that I was killing the golden goose. But, you see, it was just fate that you survived that. "
He reached into his coat and pulled out a set of precision extraction tools. Then, with the finesse of a surgeon and the dispassion of a predator, he unbuttoned Tony's shirt.
The arc reactor glowed defiantly in Tony's chest.
"You had one last golden egg to give. Do you really think that just because you have an idea, it belongs to you? Your father, he helped give us the atomic bomb. Now, what kind of world would it be today if he was as selfish as you? Oh, it's beautiful. Tony, this is your Ninth Symphony. What a masterpiece. Look at that. This is your legacy. A new generation of weapons with this at its heart. Weapons that will help steer the world back on course, put the balance of power in our hands. The right hands. I wish you could've seen my prototype. It's not as... Well, not as conservative as yours. Too bad you had to involve Pepper in this. I would have preferred that she lived."
Stane pressed a tool to the magnetic seal. With a mechanical hiss, the reactor detached.
Tony gasped. His eyes fluttered. He collapsed fully, his skin paling by the second.
Stane stood and held the arc reactor in the moonlight, watching the blue light pulse.
Right away, he went back to the Stark Industries excitedly. Deep within Sector 16, the lab was alight with power. Engineers had been dismissed. The corridors were empty. Surveillance had been rerouted.
Obadiah stood alone with the armor.
It loomed over him—taller, bulkier, forged from improved alloys. The culmination of stolen genius. The Iron Monger.
He held up the arc reactor and smiled.
"Let's light you up."
He inserted the core. The machine groaned. Lights flickered to life. Servo systems charged.
The arc reactor in its chest pulsed with stolen life, illuminating the massive ribbed armor from within. Its arms flexed. Pistons hissed. Fuel lines pulsed.
He stepped back and surveyed his work like a proud father.
"You were always brilliant, Tony. But you lacked the stomach to do what had to be done."
He climbed into the armor, the mechanical loader clamping down with cold precision. The cockpit sealed around him. HUDs flickered to life. Power systems came online. The voice interface crackled.
"Pilot recognized: Stane, Obadiah. Systems stable. Weapon protocols armed. Repulsors charging."
He leaned back in the harness. The Iron Monger's eyes blazed.
--
The night air was thick with tension as the SHIELD convoy sped along the expressway leading to Stark Industries. Pepper Potts sat in the back of the lead SUV, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Her eyes were locked forward, but her mind was caught between fear and resolve. The evidence—the files, the blueprints, the video—everything now rested on a decision. She had made her choice.
Phil Coulson sat beside her, calm as ever, his suit crisp and immaculate. But his eyes, behind the calm veneer, were calculating.
"Are you absolutely certain about what's on this drive?" he asked.
Pepper nodded. "It's enough to put Obadiah Stane behind bars forever. He was the one behind Tony's kidnapping in Afghanistan. He's been stealing Tony's designs and building weapons in secret."
Coulson blinked slowly. "Then let's make sure he doesn't get the chance to use it."
Behind them, two more black SUVs followed close, headlights off. Inside, four SHIELD agents checked their equipment—tranq rifles, EMP devices, concussion grenades. This wasn't a negotiation. It was a tactical extraction.
Pepper gripped the edge of the seat as the Stark Industries tower came into view, bathed in cold light against the moonlit sky. Somewhere inside, Obadiah Stane was preparing to unleash something Tony never intended to exist.
The SHIELD vehicles rolled through the front gates of Stark Industries, bypassing security under emergency authorization. Coulson flashed his badge and a file packet to the gate guards, who waved them through without hesitation.