"Tony, kid, you've got to do something about that program of yours."
"Hm?" The genius doesn't bother to look up from his new holographic display board. The only sign he's listening is the slight tilt to his head.
"You have to know what I mean," Stane insists. "AVIS can barely unlock a door, let alone run your house. Maybe it's time to move onto something else?"
There's a pause as Tony takes that in. "Are we talking about the same AVIS?"
Stane huffs in exasperation. "Yes. Have you honestly not noticed how many problems it has?"
"Look, I know she's not as fast as she could be when it comes to processing power-" excuse me?! "But she's still completely revolutionary." He shifts one last piece with a pair of tweezers before finally looking up. "AVIS, open the door to my work shop." I do so. "AVIS, turn the radio on." I do that too. "AVIS, when's my next board meeting?"
"In forty-eight minutes, sir."
"See? Revolutionary."
For a moment, Stane stands there, mouth gaping. His jaw works, like he very badly wants to say something, but in the end he gives up - too mad to form a coherent arument, by the looks of it. He stalks out of the workshop without another word.
Tony mumbles something under his breath that sounds a lot like, "Moody old man."
"What was that, sir?"
"Nothing AVIS," he says, swiping sweat from his brow. "Crank up the radio, will you? I want to get this stage done in the next twenty-minutes."
"Yes, sir." As soon as I do so, I focus the core of my processing power outwards, past the workshop and into the basement.
Stane, having just made it over to the stairs which lead to ground level, is cursing nastily under his breath. When he gets to the top, huffing with exertion, he barks at me to, "Open the damn door!" Obligingly, I do so. Clearly suspicious of his good fortune, the portly man quickly stumbles through the doorway, no doubt expecting me to slam the door on his rear like I've done in the past.
I don't.
In fact, I do him the courtesy of turning on lights and opening doors on his way out of the mansion without being asked. He starts to walk faster, clearly unnerved, and by the time he makes it to the garage where his sports car is parked, he's practically jogging.
"Garage," he snaps.
Seeing this as my last chance to mess with Stane before the risks outweigh the rewards (I certainly don't want Tony to implant any demands that prevent me from harming or disobeying the awful man), I plan one final prank.
The music starts off nearly inaudible, going completely unnoticed by its intended target until he's halfway to his car. "What the-?"
Suddenly, at full volume, the chorus rings out.
"Every breath you take, every move you make; I'll be watching you."
A full-body shudder overtakes Stane, but I cut the music before he can work himself into a frenzy. The garage door is lifting now, so I let my own voice sound from the tinny speakers in the corners of the large room. "Goodbye, Obadiah Stane."
Never in my life have I seen a man move so quickly. He throws himself into his car and peels out so quickly that his tires leave marks on the floor.
It's a bittersweet moment for me, seeing as my fun has been cut short, but I keep my plans for the future close to my heart. I may not be able to prank Stane anymore, but the minute he goes after Tony, I'll tear him to shreds.