Chapter 127: Tony Calls for Help

Malibu, California. "Point Dume," the private villa of Tony Stark.

The basement parking garage, once a luxury space, had been transformed into a restricted, top-secret facility accessible only to Pepper Potts.

Master Wong’s treatment had saved Tony from the brink of death, but the few lines written on that A4 sheet of paper left him deeply suspicious and vigilant. He dared not let anyone know about his research into the Mark II. The Mark II was lightyears ahead of the Mark I—the difference between his own ingenuity and that of Justin Hammer.

With the aid of his AI butler, Jarvis, Tony worked day and night, calculating and building new models. He sourced custom components from major corporations outside of Stark Industries and combined them with his own manual craftsmanship. After over a hundred failures, the Mark II was finally complete. The test flight had been a success, save for the minor detail of flying too high, freezing into a block of ice, and nearly plummeting to his death.

"Jarvis, contact Sys Corporation. The exterior casing will be made of the gold-titanium alloy used for the Angel tactical satellite." Tony had quickly found a solution.

He frowned as he looked at the image Master Wong had sent him during the flight. He truly hoped it wasn't Obadiah Stane. Stark Industries owed its current standing to Obadiah’s contributions. Especially in the years following his father’s sudden death, had Obadiah not steadied the veteran staff and shareholders, Stark Industries might have plummeted into the ranks of mediocre arms dealers, no better than Hammer Industries. Stark Industries was his father’s lifeblood, and Obadiah’s as well. What exactly was he trying to do? He was already getting on in years; why couldn't he just enjoy the time he had left? Were power and wealth truly that important?

"The Disney Concert Hall is adorned with red carpets this year. Mr. Tony Stark will be donating to the Firefighters' Family Fund for the third time. This is an annual gathering for Los Angeles high society, and Mr. Obadiah Stane will be attending on Mr. Stark’s behalf..."

"Due to Mr. Stark’s erratic behavior at the press conference, there is speculation that he is suffering from mental instability. He has been bedridden for weeks, and his condition is concerning..."

The latest news flashed across the screen. Tony, usually proud and prone to showing off, suppressed the urge to disrupt the status quo.

"So, Obadiah is not at headquarters?" Tony stood up, took a sip of water, and walked toward his luxury supercar. "Jarvis, hurry up and finish the schematics for the Mark III. Install it as soon as the gold-titanium alloy arrives."

"Sir, where are you going?"

"Headquarters!"

...

The future Stark Tower had not yet been built; Stark Industries’ headquarters was still in northern Los Angeles, not far from Point Dume. Tony arrived quickly. Though the staff was surprised by their boss's sudden appearance, no one dared to stop him. A security guard watched him enter the building and immediately pulled out his phone to send a text to Obadiah.

Tony moved with familiarity, reaching his office in no time. He accessed the company mainframe and entered his account credentials.

"Access denied?"

"So, Obadiah really did tamper with my permissions."

Instead of panic, Tony felt a sense of relief; his resolve hardened. He took a USB drive from his pocket and plugged it in. The cracking software he had prepared began to dismantle the company firewall, the slow-moving progress bar on the screen making him uneasy. Time ticked away, and finally, the bypass was complete. He frantically typed, searching through hidden files until he found the recent shipping manifests.

"July 7th, order for Colonel Rhodes, Department of Defense: AIR-2 Jericho missiles..."
"August 12th, order for General Ross, Air Force: Sonic Cannon..."
"September 4th, order for warlord Sowande, Africa: Assault rifles..."

The rows of data were chilling. Beyond the U.S. government, the military, the police, and various special agencies, Stark Industries had been trading with other factions, even terrorist organizations? He scrolled further, and Tony froze.

"October 22nd, The Ten Rings, Afghanistan: Jericho missiles..."

The Ten Rings—could that be the same terrorist group that had attacked and kidnapped him? The final line on the A4 paper left by Master Wong surfaced in his mind once more: *Beware of Obadiah.*

Tony’s brow furrowed. Was it true? Was Obadiah colluding with the Ten Rings to have him killed?

"Damn it!" Tony reached for his phone. He was about to call Pepper or Happy, but hesitated. Point Dume was neither too far nor too close, but Pepper and Happy wouldn't make it in time. The Mark III was still in the design phase, and the Mark II had issues—plus, there was no time to transport it, and even if it arrived, he couldn't wear it without the full suite of Jarvis’s equipment.

Contact the police or the military? Putting aside whether they could arrive in time, the military was already dissatisfied with him; they might even prefer Obadiah in control of Stark Industries because he was willing to keep producing weapons. From the day he announced the closure of the weapons division, he had placed himself in opposition to the Department of Defense, the military, Obadiah, and even every shareholder of Stark Industries. Pepper was right; he was courting death.

Obadiah was likely already on his way. What now? His finger hovered over the screen, landing on a contact.

"Master Wong is in New York, and I’m in Los Angeles. That’s over 4,000 kilometers away. He won't make it..."

Tony sighed and dialed. Suddenly, he heard footsteps. His heart skipped a beat; he quickly hid his hand behind his back and silenced the ringer. The door opened. Obadiah walked in.

...

The Darkhold Laboratory.

"Ugh, everything else is done, but one formula is problematic. Maybe I'll finish it tomorrow, maybe I won't finish it for the rest of my life." Fitz frowned, tapping his head as he paced back and forth. "It’s the most critical formula. If I can get the answer, I can design the brain-mapping and memory-uploading equipment in a week, but I just can't solve it. What do I do..."

Master Wong tapped the table. *Uncertainty? This feels like a high school math final—either you get the epiphany in the next second, or you finish the exam without ever finding the solution...*

Fitz looked ashamed. "Boss, I'm sorry. My abilities are limited; I’ve failed your trust. Perhaps you should hire a more capable top scientist, like Dr. Hank Pym, or Dr. Bruce Banner, who has been missing for so long..."

*Ring!*

The phone rang. A gold-and-red helmet icon appeared on the screen.

"Tony? Why is he calling me?"

Master Wong answered. Two voices came through the line.

"Tony, without that suit of armor, it seems you’re going to die here today."

"Obadiah, are you really trying to kill me? This is Stark Industries headquarters; there are surveillance cameras everywhere. If you kill me, do you think you’ll get away with it? Don't be rash. Let’s sit down and talk, really talk..."

Master Wong was stunned. Tony was facing off with Obadiah directly? At this point in time, the Iron Monger project shouldn't even have started yet! Tony, you ran into their headquarters like a lamb to the slaughter, and you didn't even bring the suit? What were you thinking?

"I'm going to have to waste another teleportation spell." Master Wong sighed.

Just as he was about to initiate the exchange, his brow arched, and he looked up at the sky. Hidden from the naked eye, a missile was streaking toward them. An unprecedented crisis had arrived!