Chapter 5
The Funeral of Stark Industries
Stark Industries headquarters, press conference hall.
Flashes of light rained down like a storm.
Obadiah stood on the stage, his fatherly face etched with "no comment" until a voice ripped through the crowd.
"Don't push, I have a cheeseburger."
Tony Stark has arrived.
No suits and ties, no high spirits.
He looked like a hungover vagrant, clutching an American fast food meal, his steps unsteady, his face bearing a chilling excitement.
He didn't go on stage; he just plopped down on the steps.
"Everyone, please sit down."
Tony, with a meat patty in his mouth, waved his hand indistinctly.
"Don't make it so serious, like attending a funeral. Although for some people, it really might be a funeral."
Rod and Pepper stood on the flank, their eyes filled with complex emotions.
Obadiah maintained his fatherly smile and walked over to help Tony up: "Tony, you just got back, you're still feeling unwell..."
"I'm fine, Obadiah."
Tony dodged his hand, took off his sunglasses, and his eyes no longer held the decadent, hedonistic look of the past, but only a chilling clarity.
"I didn't die." Tony swallowed the last bite of his burger, brushing the breadcrumbs off his hands. "But I did see hell."
The entire room was silent, save for the clicks of camera shutters.
"I used to think I was protecting the world."
Tony's voice wasn't loud, but it carried through the microphone to every corner: "But what I saw was my missiles killing the children I was supposed to protect."
"I saw fear, not fear of the enemy, but fear of the name 'Stark'."
Obadiah's smile froze on his face. He instinctively sensed danger—the keen sense of a capitalist about potential losses.
"Tony..." he tried to interrupt.
"So!" Tony stood up, his voice rising, "I'm awake."
Tony rested his hands on the podium, his gaze piercing through the camera lens, as if judging the entire world.
"I realized that I could contribute more than just an exploding killing machine."
"From this moment forward, Stark Industries will be forever..."
Tony paused for a second.
"Shut down the weapons manufacturing departments!"
boom!
This statement caused a stir at the press conference.
Reporters swarmed forward, eager to ask about the specific details of Tony's kidnapping.
Pepper covered her mouth, her eyes reddening.
Rod sighed, a wry smile on his face.
Obadiah Stein, the tycoon who wielded immense power on Wall Street, turned from rosy-cheeked to deathly pale, and then to ashen-faced.
He rushed to the microphone and forcefully pushed Tony aside.
"Tony's just too tired! He's joking! It's PTSD!"
Obadiah roared at the camera, trying to salvage the stock price which was about to plummet.
But Tony had already put on his sunglasses and turned to leave.
A real man never looks back at an explosion.
Even if it means blowing up a company's market value of hundreds of billions of dollars.
……
In the hallway, Obadiah caught up with Tony, grabbed his shoulder, and squeezed so hard his fingers almost dug into his flesh.
"What are you doing, Tony!"
"Do you know how much this will cause the stock price to drop? We're committing suicide!"
Obadiah's features contorted as he finally tore off his gentle mask.
Tony stopped and looked down at his hand gripping his expensive suit.
"Not us, Obadiah."
Tony looked up, his gaze through his sunglasses as cold as if he were looking at a dead man.
"it's me."
"Stark Industries, last name Stark."
After saying that, he brushed Obadiah's hand away and strode towards the elevator.
"Happy, let's go to Queens."
……
Afghanistan.
The night was as dark as ink, and a fierce wind whipped up sand and gravel that stung my face.
The camp that originally belonged to the Ten Commandments has been reduced to ashes.
Several unmarked black SUVs were parked beside the ruins, and dozens of fully armed mercenaries were searching through the corpses and wreckage with powerful flashlights.
"Found it, sir!"
A mercenary shouted.
At the bottom of a sand dune a few hundred meters away, a pile of twisted metal scraps was dug out.
That's the wreckage of the Mark 1.
The Mark 1 was left inside the cave when the explosion occurred, so the damage was not severe.
Thousands of kilometers away, in Los Angeles.
Obadiah sat in his dimly lit office, a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring at the live feed on the large screen.
"Is this what he used to escape?"
He took a sip of his drink, a greedy glint in his eyes.
"A pile of scrap metal, but this structure, this propulsion system layout..."
As the second-in-command at Stark Industries, he was knowledgeable.
Hidden within this pile of scrap metal lies a future that will change the nature of warfare.
"Sir, we also found some strange traces at the scene."
The mercenary leader's voice came through the communicator, "Also, the survivors' testimonies keep mentioning a red demon."
The screen flashed, and a blurry video clip was displayed.
That was a video taken by someone with a mobile phone; the footage was very shaky.
Amidst the raging flames, a dark red humanoid creature could be vaguely seen punching a pickup truck away. Then, its entire body flashed red light and disappeared into the smoke and dust.
"demon?"
Obadiah sneered, a contemptuous look towards pure materialists.
"That's some kind of exoskeleton reflection or holographic projection. Stark is an engineer, not a wizard."
"He couldn't create monsters, but he created this suit of armor."
Obadiah zoomed in on the Mark 1 helmet on the screen.
"As long as we have this prototype, our scientists can reverse engineer it."
"By the way, take good care of those survivors. I don't want any news to get out from there."
He downed the wine in one gulp, his eyes burning with the flames of ambition.
Tony shut down the weapons department?
It's okay.
If he mastered this technology, Obadiah Stan could become the world's number one arms dealer.
"Get the wreckage back, and be quick."
"in addition……"
Obadiah put down his glass and looked at a travel log.
108 70th Street, Queens, New York.
"Also, check this address."
"A rich kid like Tony Stark would never go to the slums."
"Whatever he hid there—women, illegitimate children, or other technical blueprints…"
"I want them all."