Arc 2 - External & Internal Affairs (1 - 2)

The first week back had been grueling. Long days in the pit, followed by meetings and appointments and worse things, until your schedule looked like a Christmas tree. You'd been utterly exhausted by the end of the first weekend, but you couldn't stop; you couldn't cycle down. Pepper was worried you were messing up your recovery from a second near-death experience, and Rhodey thought you'd come back too focused. Neither of them realized why you barely spoke to them for that time. You'd been inspired.

The next weeks were worse.

It wasn't the bomb; that was mundane. Given that you hadn't gotten to speak to more than two or three people at the conference before it went to hell, it was not exactly the influence of fellow genius blowhards, either. No - a single instant had crystallized, a momentary flash of that encounter with the assassin Deadpool.

Deadpool threw his hand around, gun at the ready, and fired with the precision that he'd shown on all the other people that had been shot - but he'd missed. The image of a mere reporter ducking a bullet and then smashing the hand that had delivered the shot. He'd slapped away someone who should have overpowered him by sheer size, let alone his Weapon Plus heritage, the brutal strength you'd felt at your throat.

Leaving aside the why, that moment called on the instinct that had been built up by twenty years of arms development, of designing planes, and bombs, and missiles. The arms race was in your blood, now, and escalation was a fact of life. You'd just been shown a target to aim for, someone who could flatten you with a single blow. Two people who were simply better.

It was time to level the playing field.

"Jarvis," you spoke softly. "I'm flipping the switch, now. Hope you can hold on in there."

The AI bleeped once - the only form of communication he currently possessed. There was no real way to isolate a program so complicated and distributed as his; he was spread out across every computer in your home. Like the proverbial Ship of Theseus, then, there was only one way to make an upgrade. Piece by piece.

The final part - the most important part - was the central core, right at the heart of the building, nested neatly in the bedrock three stories below your feet. It had taken three days to lift the cluster out, on account of its sheer size, and nigh on twice as long to install the new mainframe, and setting it up as you required. It was always easier to destroy than to build, much to your chagrin.

"Seventy-seven percent complete," you recited, more to keep yourself busy than to ease whatever fears an artificial mind might have. Cut off from the majority of its functions, you imagined it was rather like Locked-In Syndrome for the bot, with a generous helping of sudden onset Alzheimer's. The only reason it wasn't a total cruelty was that you'd made sure Jarvis knew what was going on at all times. He'd agreed to this - brain surgery.

"How're you feeling, buddy? Everything okay? Eight-five percent done, now."

The AI bleeped once in affirmation.

The computer's upgrade had stalled most of your work in the house, but thankfully there had been other places to keep you busy, and to get some work done. You'd never bring your secret work to the company, on account of the weapon thefts, but everyone already knew about your work on arc reactors, and the version you were constructing wasn't particularly dangerous. Not anymore, at least.

You'd toyed with the idea of making a mass-production version of your arc reactor - but the consequences didn't take long to occur to you. The little device in your chest could put out several megawatts - enough to power some serious machinery. With that kind of unfettered power, even if Stark Industries didn't develop weapons based on it, someone else would. Roxxon or Hammer would have a prototype out within the year, and there'd be arc-fueled mass destruction the instant one of them screwed up. So - a change of plans.

Safety was what you'd programmed into the small arc reactors, and you already had confirmation that at least one functional arc reactor of a larger scale existed. As such, you'd taken apart the big one at the company - it had only been running one building for at least a decade. It had taken some days of design and a full week of tinkering, but you'd finally gotten that version rebuilt into something you recognized as modern. It wouldn't measure up to a freshly constructed one without the constraints of an existing design, but it would work.

Today, you were going to turn it on.

"Ninety-seven - last legs now, Jarvis." You turned to the screens behind you, all of them on but showing only darkness. Suddenly, with a burst of colorful flickering and static, they all turned bright white for a brief moment. "Ah, there we go."

"I have been uploaded, sir," Jarvis declared with what could only be relief, though you weren't sure if you were anthropomorphizing the emulated consciousness. You would've called Dr. Turing for a consultation, but alas…

"Right - excellent! Enjoying the new home, then?" You smiled at the screens as they slowly flipped to more familiar designs and lists of code. "It's at least four times as powerful as the last one, and it's got way, way more gadgets." You gestured vaguely behind you. "I installed another 3D-printer while I was at it, to complement the others. Finally some ceramics, I think."

"Very good. I look forward to testing it later."

"Yeah. Print me some - I dunno, replica Ming vases that I can break? Maybe some Space Shuttle tiles? Basically go for all the cool stuff and we'll figure out how to use it later." You stretched, yawning. "...Speaking of space shuttles, I'm gonna see if NASA called back yet. Without you to watch the phone, it's been ringing off the hook, but even with my persistence, they're keeping awfully silent…"

"NASA, sir?" Jarvis inquired. "Did they not ask you to stop calling, nine years ago?"

"I was drunk that time," you defended. "How was I supposed to know she was the Director? I didn't even know feminism got to that level yet. I mean, sheesh, if there's anything that's a men's sport, it's watching giant Freudian symbols penetrating the virgin sky!"

"I warned you."

"And I was stupid not to listen to my teenage AI," you muttered. "Remember what you were like back then? Constantly tattling on me, incapable of understanding sarcasm? It took me months to cure you of that shortcoming, it was terrible."

"I'm sure it was, sir. Incidentally, you have an appointment with the Board of Directors this evening. I also note that you have attended four of the last six - a statistical anomaly."

You grimaced. "Pepper's making me do it?"

"Yet I notice that Miss Potts is presently absent."

You sighed. "Fine, smart-ass. I'm making me do it. There's a - thing with the arc reactor that I'm working on, and I kind of need the board's help on this one. Or their approval, anyway. Obi's usually enough for this sort of thing, but if we're talking something with major impact…" You rubbed your forehead tiredly. "This is why I tend to upgrade, not innovate…"

"If you do not leave within thirty minutes, you will be late."

"How can I be late? I set this meeting myself," you muttered. "Alright - I'll handle this, and you get used to your new duds. If there's a problem, you are still attached to the primary backup, so you should be fine. You have the means to call me. Don't let Dum-E out of the lab - he's tried twice since the locks stopped working - and don't let in any strangers. Got it?"

"I am able to attend to my duties, sir."

"Great! Because I really don't know if I am." You turned, waving to the camera. "Off to make or break this oil-killing thing. Wish me luck!"

The company seemed downright spooky, with the power off - with the usual shift relocated to some of the side-buildings for a week, the main building looked foreboding in the gloom. The only lights were a few small spotlights you'd rigged up to the grid, illuminating the place just enough to give it a proper horror house vibe. Given that meetings tended to be around sundown, this was perfect. The darkness all around you was oddly soothing.

It was interesting that, even as you were at the company, preparing to show off a new variation on the arc reactor, your thoughts were on other things. It had been a month since the incident in Vegas, and Peter had never responded to your invitation - he'd left, and in the days thereafter you'd constantly expected him to show up at your doorstep. Instead, you got silence. The disappointment had largely been drowned in work, though.

The other consequence of that particular mess was involvement with S.H.I.E.L.D. - a subject that your dad's files had contained rather a lot of information about, even if most of it was couched in other terms. Usually they were just mentioned as 'my organization' and it was often hard to tell whether or not Stark Industries was referenced, or the spy club you'd so suddenly found out about.

It wasn't until well into the second week of work, when you'd been working on repulsors and your ideas about exoskeletons that you'd realized that Coulson, that friendly face that had visited you the first day, was only ever showing up when you were slacking off for a bit. For a moment, you wondered if you'd been bugged - but it had become quickly apparent that Jarvis had been the bug - or rather, the bot had voluntarily informed the agent when you were available. It seemed the AI actually liked Coulson.

If it weren't for the fact that you never messed with Jarvis's programming for fear of the possible consequences, you might've deleted that particular tendency.

"Well, everyone's late," you muttered to yourself. "Figures they would be, the one time that I set the time. How's that for revenge…"

"Tony."

You turned around rather quicker than you intended, the slight glow of your arc reactor shining through your clothes and illuminating the figure in front of you in eerie blue. You recognized that beard and shiny bald head anywhere, and sighed in relief. "Ah, Obi. I suppose this is why you don't turn off all the lights."

"You put lights up yourself, didn't you?" the man asked disbelievingly, clapping twice. The darkness receded from the clinical white that shone down. "What are you doing, hiding in the dark?"

"Thinking about the deepest questions in life, I assure you. Why are we here - where are we going - where's the pizza." You gestured to the arc reactor in the middle of the room, shrugging. "Will this thing work?"

"You didn't test it?" Obadiah demanded.

"Can't - not without either ruining the wiring, or the suspense. Probably the latter." You smirked. "But don't worry - I built one of these in a cave. I think I can handle it here, too."

Obadiah nodded slowly. "And you really think you can make this - clean energy thing happen? You've been all over this thing - far more than anything else in living memory, I'd say. Even the Jericho - and you were so proud of that one!"

"Well, that is a thing of beauty," you defended. "Anyway, this is bigger, better. None of the moral ambiguity or leftist hand-wringing, all of the awesome. I mean, there's a rather large difference between Merchant of Death and Clean Energy Revolutionary, isn't there? How about the headline 'Stark Industries solves Energy Crisis?' Sound good?"

"Sounds unbelievable."

"You think I'd voluntarily submit myself to half a dozen meetings of the Board of Directors over a failed experiment?" you asked rhetorically. "Look, I'm not a good CEO. I know that. I've accepted that despite my many skills, I have a bit of a respect problem, and I'm sure that nobody's surprised by that. However, I am a damn good engineer, and nobody would deny that."

Obadiah nodded, sighing. "We all know you're the golden goose, Tony. It's why nobody's jumped at getting you out of the position yet - you make us money. As long as the money keeps flowing…"

"You said 'yet',"you pointed out, narrowing your eyes. "Has anyone been talking?"

"Not since you came back."

"Vegas?" You asked. "What, they got scared of my failed attempts at strangling a guy?"

Obadiah shook his head. "Afghanistan. You made an impression, when you came back and handled the press and the board with finesse, despite your obvious… troubles." He frowned. "I stuck up for you, Tony - and thankfully you acted as I hoped you would. Maturely. I know it can be a problem for you."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh you, stop flattering me."

He frowned. "I'm serious, Tony. I know we haven't really talked, lately - but I am on your side. We together control the company - you have to remember that. But the board has rights, and given your actions before the kidnapping, can you blame them? You were leaving your duties aside, whoring it up with - "

"That was a one time thing, and I apologized," you argued. "...Alright, maybe a two or three time thing. But they forgave me. In writing."

"And refused a contract with SI," Obadiah said. "Tony - I'm not saying it's not an overreaction on the part of the board, but they have good reasons for their position. Make sure that you don't get any more of those reasons against you, and you'll be fine. Otherwise…" He grimaced, looking away. "Your Vegas adventure bought you some goodwill - even if the details are murky, the press mentioned your part in stopping the bomber. It makes you seem more - human - that you'd try to save a life. It's probably good that they don't realize the specifics."

"That's for sure," you agreed, thinking back to the confrontation with Deadpool, and its last few minutes, etched into your memory. "Fire and shards of glass are not exactly the friendliest of weapons, I admit."

Obadiah grunted in agreement. "Just keep the course, and hold yourself back from doing anything too troubling in the coming weeks or months. Meanwhile, I'll figure out a way to bring the company under tighter control, alright? That should give you some more leeway, and if you're right about reviving the arc reactor project - perhaps a lucrative thing to do, too."

"Hmm, how are you gonna do that?" You wondered aloud. "Buy them out? I've offered, you know, back when I first returned."

"And nobody believed you," Obadiah muttered. "You're rich - but you know what kind of contracts they signed, most of them dating back to your dad's era. Buying them all out would bankrupt you - if they were civil about it. Odds are they'll decide you're trying to kick them out because you're onto something big, and they'll hire big-time lawyers to stay in."

"Which means I'm stuck with them," you decided glumly. "Great."

"Take it this way - they are on the side of whoever makes them lots of money. If you do that, then you'll have the best allies around. And if that's not enough to settle your nerves, there's always me." He smiled thinly, though he looked haggard in the pale light. "You have to realize, Tony - as long as I'm around, they can't hurt you. Not really."

You tapped his arm, smiling. "I suppose that's something I ought to remember."

"Hm. I know I haven't always trusted you as I did your father - but I should have. Sooner or later, you always make the right call." He glanced at the big arc reactor, shrugging. "We're ironmongers, we make weapons, Tony. I always figured this big old thing was a waste of time and resources. If you can change all that, if you can move beyond the box you've been living in for the last decades, then maybe you're right about the rest of it, too. About all those dreams you have, or had." He looked away. "Maybe."

You frowned at the man's odd mood. It seemed almost - melancholic. "Obi? Is something wrong? You seem..."

Obadiah looked back, shaking his head. "No. It's - nothing. Well - actually, it's personal." He refused to meet your gaze. "Look, Tony, I know I can trust you. Probably now more than ever." He slipped a hand into his pocket. "You're a good kid, and I'd hate to see anything happen to you."

"What…?"

Your old mentor pulled out a cylindrical device, staring at it for a long moment. "You know that at some point in our lives, we all run into our past mistakes. You've been face to face with a few of yours lately, I would say. And I have run into some of mine." He looked up again, and raised the device. "I want you to have this."

You took the object, and only then did you realize what it was. "...What's on it?"

Obadiah raised his eyebrows as he crossed his arms. "Information. That flash drive contains all of my secrets - everything I might have hidden from you, everything your father might have conveniently omitted. It's locked tighter than Fort Knox, though, with one of the encryption algorithms that your father invented. The only one who knows how to get in these days is me." He rubbed his brow tiredly. "It also contains everything you need to know to take control of my share of the company."

You stared at him in incomprehension. "Why?"

"It's - insurance, Tony. Keep that somewhere safe - and if everything goes well, you'll never have to use it. If anything were to happen, though, I'll make sure that the key gets to you." He narrowed his eyes. "It's a precaution - I'm not going to drop dead, Tony. But after what you've been through recently, I really can't be too careful."

"...You're not telling me everything."

"Oh, no, I'm not." Obadiah smiled, then. "I rescheduled our meeting, by the way. The half hour I bought us is nearly over. You'd better get ready."

"You did that?" You wondered for a moment. "Wait - Obi…"

The man turned to face you, but said nothing more - and the arrival of one of the other directors prevented any further discussion. You turned the flash drive in your hand, looking after Obadiah with narrowed eyes as you slipped it into a pocket. It was clear that he wasn't going to say more - but you were going to try and break that encryption. Of course you were.

"Presto! Eureka! Insert meaningful quote here, history books!" you exclaimed as you flipped the last switch, and with a slow groaning noise and a flash of artificial lightning skittering across the inside of the protective enclosure, white-hot plasma burst into existence, a glowing coil of energy that quickly suffused the reactor. It already looked far more impressive than the previous version, and it hadn't even been dialed to full yet. You didn't intend to try that until the next week.

"Over fifty megawatts of power, if we dial it up," you said clearly. "Enough to run a small town from one of these babies - and at a fraction of current asking price. We might be able to undercut existing prices by as much as two-thirds - and that's including the investment costs for building the reactors in the first place."

"That's -"

"Insane? Impossible?" You gestured to the reactor, smiling. "Tell that to the humming wonder there. Even if you had to build a new one every year or two, you'd still come out on top while reducing the price of power by more than half - and I don't see other energy companies jumping into that pool. Given that it's clean energy on top, and thus gets all the tax benefits of that…"

You didn't know if the directors were slack-jawed from awe or greed, but at the moment it really didn't matter. The fact that they were all focused on the bright blue glow was telling enough.

"I am proposing that we built pilot reactors in each of our locations - here, in all our facilities up the west coast, and a few in the heartland, though those are lower-priority until we have enough built. When that's done - we're going to offer the excess power to the immediate neighborhoods, in much the same way that other clean energies get that done."

"And next thing you know, they'll want more," a certain Mr. Klein said, a graying man that'd been around since time immemorial. "This is good - this is something we can work with!"

A second person cleared her throat - the venerable Mrs. Beaumont. "This is - interesting, Mr. Stark, but you have yet to mention selling this technology to our primary partners. While supplying our own company with cheap power is commendable, it seems rather small pickings compared to the profits that could be made."

You nodded, shaking your head. "I assume by primary partners you are euphemistically referring to our military connection. I also trust you have realized that Mr. Rhodes is not with us right now - and as such, I am not at present considering selling this to anyone." You met Beaumont's eyes and smiled. "This will remain in-house for as long as I deem it necessary - and that's final. If this gets into the wrong hands before we secure it, we might lose a lot more than a few bucks of profit. Besides, the civil market is broad enough that it shouldn't matter in a few months."

"...is there something wrong with our army contracts?" Klein inquired. "You have never objected to their bids before."

"This is a clean energy project, people," you said slowly. "Clean. Energy. You know what would be the greatest way to completely kill off enthusiasm from the left and environmentalists? Turning their greatest hope, even if they don't know it yet, into the new nuke. This has to be a blank slate project - because our name alone is enough to make people wonder. We can't afford to add to that paranoia."

Obadiah cleared his throat, then. "Actually, Tony, you could consider founding a sister company, for the PR-friendly stuff like this. Keep SI for the military contracts that the public's iffy about anyway, and shunt the humanitarian efforts to something new. Something without a history. You have the people to make that happen, and the profits would ultimately end up in the same pot, so nobody would go broke over it."

That was - actually not a bad idea. Something new - founded by Tony Stark, not Howard. Something that could delve into all the crazy directions you'd thought about - exoskeletons and repulsors, spaceflight and clean energy. Building the future.

"...That's worth considering," you allowed at last. For one, you would have much less oversight from the board of directors - since technically, they're not in charge. It'd just be you, and whoever else would help you set it up. Pepper, maybe. Rhodey. "I'll get back to you on that."

"I'll sketch up some proposals," Obadiah offered. "Katherine - you can arrange the logistics of getting a bunch of reactors shipped off the instant they're done. Knowing Tony, he'll have the factories ready to make the things within weeks."

"Actually, the one downstairs already can," you said easily. "Robots, you know - they can build it, even if nobody around here knows how the things work. That's a thing of beauty, I'd say. They're pretty much magic." You smirked. "Clarke was completely right."

Right then, the tones of 'Thunderstruck' erupted from the side of your jacket, and you sighed. You flipped open your phone to general muttering, and a small holographic display popped up. It was an unknown number - traced by Jarvis to New York. It was coming from the Daily Bugle building.

"Can you guys hold on a minute, here?" You asked, repressing the smile that was threatening to take over. "I have to take this."

The sky was perfectly clear as you closed your eyes against the sun, the comfortable heat of the summer a welcome diversion from the climate-controlled frigid temperature of the server rooms. The garage was clammy even with the best in ventilation, and the air turned stale from recycling. There were a few of these days every year, when even your luxurious accommodation could get a bit stinky, and usually you spent those days ignoring everything and visiting lots of clubs. This year was an exception.

It was strange, now that you thought about it, that you hadn't been to a single party since your return from Vegas, or even Afghanistan. The medical excuse was a part of that, of course, but the truth was that you hadn't even felt like picking up some one-night-stand or a bottle of hard liquor. Both of those, you'd found, were symptoms of boredom,and that hadn't been much of a problem of late - you'd been filled to the brim with ideas, and just started building, straight through the night.

Nothing to get the creativity juices flowing like terrorists and the threat of imminent death, you supposed. It couldn't be anything benign, of course...

"Jarvis - how far along is that mesh, now?" you inquired lazily, as your phone was next to you, baking in the sun and probably overheating. "How about the rest of the stuff?"

"Completion of the composite mesh is at eighty-one percent, sir. Estimated completion time is in two hours. Ceramic tiles are ready for embedding."

Two more hours of relaxation - honestly, you'd almost forgotten what it was like to have time off like this, or at least to actually use it. Even though you set your own hours, and your schedule was relatively light, you hadn't really been able to stop and smell the roses for a while - not since you'd caught that brainwave after Vegas. On multiple occasions you'd belatedly realized that you were missing a whole day, and that despite Jarvis's prodding you had worked through the night and into the next morning. Brilliant.

It was right then that the blissful silence was broken, and you jerked in surprise.

"Tony? Are you on the roof?" Pepper called again, mystified. "What on earth are you thinking? Hold on, I'm coming up there."

You groaned as you slumped onto your back, staring into the air. You knew that somewhere in the bowels of your home, disassembled into pieces but ready for a test, you had the means to get up into that sky and fly. You dearly wished to take out that hunk of metal, but a distant worry prevented you; with assassins and spies on your case, revealing your hand would be a terribly tactic. Perhaps you could take it out under cover of night, but no sooner than that. Right now, it was your little secret.

It was a minute or two later that Pepper clambered onto the flat deck of the house, frowning as she noticed you with your hands behind your head, sweat pooling in your clothes as you basked. "...What are you doing?"

"I'm photosynthesizing." You yawned widely. "Want to join me?"

"No, I don't want - Tony, you do realize you had two appointments this afternoon?" Pepper asked irritably. "I've been looking for you for half an hour, but Jarvis wouldn't tell me where you were!"

"Good boy," you murmured, smiling to yourself. Jarvis had been quite obedient the last few days - more than likely a sort of strange repayment for the upgrade you'd given him. Either that, or you'd accidentally dialed the sarcasm down a little. You'd figure out which later. "Pepper, I haven't missed anything. I rescheduled."

"...Youdid?" Pepper asked. "You do realize I'm your secretary?"

"Yeah… and I also realized that you weren't here," you pointed out dryly as you dragged yourself to a sitting position. "The Roxxon guys - I just outright cancelled that one. Not interested in their crap - they're just trying to figure out what I'm working on. The other guy's been tossed to Wednesday on account of my… health. I figured he'd buy that."

"You rescheduled because of the weather?" Pepper inquired disbelievingly.

You shook your head. "Nah - I'm expecting a few people over, didn't want to clog up the schedule today on account of that. They're way more interesting than some bozos that probably hadn't written up a contract yet, anyway." You shrugged. "Rhodey's due soon."

Pepper frowned. "You cancelled meetings because you wanted to get a drink with James?" She groaned as she tapped something into her phone. "That's so - so you.You don't have the numbers of the people you snubbed, by any chance? So I can go apologize for your rudeness, as usual?"

"Peter's coming over too," you added lightly, and she stiffened. You nodded. "Yeah, the one that helped save your life, in case you forgot. He called two days ago, asked me if he could take me up on an invitation I gave him. I figured that I might as well have him drop by the house. Bit stuffy inside, but we'll manage in the evening, I think."

"I'm sure." Pepper sighed. "Well, I guess it's a good thing that you're making friends. Sort of. Not sure how I feel about you finding some kindred spirit in someone young enough to be your own kid, but I suppose you might have some latent -" She stopped, shaking her head.

"If you're going to say daddy issues, I'm tossing you off this roof," you muttered. "I was thinking of offering the guy a job, actually. Seems like he could use it - and I have a feeling that someone not born in the lap of luxury might appreciate a little cash. Hell, if nothing else he could take over your duties with the press. I know you have a - dislike for that stuff."

"That's silly, and you know -" She paused, staring at your chest. "What is that?" Pepper asked, staring with wide eyes.

It took you a few moments to follow her gaze and realize that she was talking about your arc reactor - or rather, what was attached to it. Surrounding the glowing circle were a dozen little wires, mostly hidden by your paper-thin shirt, running down one sleeve. "...You've seen the arc reactor before, genius."

"The wires - it's…"

"Ah - that." You faltered, slipping up your sleeve a little to reveal a small metal device strapped to your arm, just out of sight. You hadn't really finished the thing, since it was still far too visible against your skin, but the basics were there. "This is just a precaution."

"There's wires sticking out of your heart," Pepper pressed, aghast. "Isn't that thing keeping you alive? Why would you risk your lifelike this?"

"I'm not experimenting," you protested. "The reactor generates enough power to run this entire house and I still wouldn't notice. I'm just siphoning off a little of it." You grasped the device hidden in your clothes and stretched out your arm, revealing a long tangled wire, with a tiny round device at the end, which slipped effortlessly between your fingers. "This little thing here? It's a micro-repulsor. It's something I've been working on since - well, two days ago, actually. It's for self-defense."

"You built a weapon into yourself?" Pepper asked, staring. "...Other people would buy a gun if they were feeling insecure. I know I did."

"You have a gun?" you asked, distracted. "Eh, I suppose I can see that. You'd better have requisitioned it from the company, though - we're made of the things." You tapped the repulsor. "This, though, is something else. It's a hundred times weaker than the real thing because it's supported only by my arm, and I'd rather not shatter that, but it works. It's still got quite a bit of oomph." You aimed straight up, and squeezed slightly. A burst of bright white light burst forth for a split second, a narrow-beamed surge of energy that dissipated almost instantly. "It's got the stopping power of a shotgun, and could be lethal with good aim…"

Pepper nodded slowly. "This is because of Las Vegas," she said after a long while. "Isn't it?"

"Yes. We nearly died, Pepper." You looked away. "I've got a new vest in construction downstairs, and it's far better than Kevlar. I'll make you and Rhodey some too, I've got enough material for that. I also made the mother of all cattle-prods, but I haven't really figured out how to hide it. There's a few other odds and ends that I've been working on, too." You met her eyes again tiredly. "If anything happens in the future, I'll be prepared."

"Tony…" Pepper grasped your hand, smiling thinly. "I should have known this would be your solution to things. Not talk it out, not some kind of therapy - you shut yourself into your basement and build a fix. But you should see people more. The wrench isn't the solution to every problem."

"Just most of them," you said with emphasis. "If you cast a wide enough net, everything's within my purview." You stood up, putting the repulsor back near your armpit, and the tiny device hummed softly. Thankfully, it could not be activated accidentally, or you'd never have risked it there. "In my view, everything's an engineer's job, when you boil it down to basics. Self-protection, generation of energy, transportation, navigating space - with a good budget and some hard work, even the promotion of health… and good old immortality."

Pepper looked decidedly unimpressed. "Okay, that was bravado speaking. How many bottles did you drink before you had the bright idea to get up here?"

"One?" you proposed. "It was a big one. A celebration, sort of."

"Celebration of what, exactly?"

You smiled, thinking of the gleaming silvery exoskeleton downstairs, finally completed. "Just - something I've been working on. You'll find out eventually, as always."

By the time Rhodey arrived, you'd gotten down from the roof, and at Pepper's urging you'd retreated to the open deck behind the house, which looked out over the ocean. A bottle of something delicious - you weren't sure how to classify it, except that it was alcoholic - was open besides you, and Pepper had reluctantly brought you a few sandwiches to fill your rumbling stomach. Life was good.

You felt utterly safe, and it wasn't long before you realized how strange that was. Everyone with a proper phone book or half a second interest in the news would know exactly what your place looked like, and where to find it - it was only ever-vigilant Jarvis that kept you from being surprised by new arrivals. On top of that, S.H.I.E.L.D. was keeping an eye out, and you were pretty sure they were trouble, despite good intentions.Perhaps the reason you felt safe was because this house had been designed by you, in a more creative episode - it was a suit of armor in its own way.

The little television next to you was old, tiny and had rather poor reception from inside, but it was a keepsake from another time, one of the very first devices you'd built with only your own two hands. Though hopelessly outdated, it was still a fond memory, and you were in a strange mood. As usual, Jarvis was monitoring the channels for any mentions of you - just in case. You'd been catching up on a month of unwatched streams.

"-billionaire Tony Stark, eccentric CEO of Stark Industries has been a rare sight in recent weeks, after his brush with death at a conference in Las Vegas, when a terrorist threat detonated a bomb, and Stark reportedly distracted the perpetrator until he could be taken down by law enforcement. Following shortly after his kidnapping in Afghanistan, some have questioned whether Stark is suffering from PTSD and is therefore off the screens, though inside sources report that the CEO has been unusually active in recent weeks."

"I suppose they would catch on eventually," you murmured.

"An official press-release from Stark Industries Board of Directors member Obadiah Stane confirms that last week's blackout, widely reported as a power failure, was in fact a scheduled experiment, and all power was restored within several hours, with personnel minimally affected. Though details on the experiments are scarce, insiders claim that it was part of Stark Industries' attempts to go 'green', switching entirely to alternative fuels.'

"You can join me, you know," you said aloud, banking on Rhodey being close enough to hear. Jarvis had warned you minutes earlier that he was approaching, and you'd been expecting his head to pop up for a while. "You don't have to be shy. Besides, I'm just indulging my narcissism, it's nothing bad."

"I'm not hiding," Rhodey said from directly behind you, and you smiled. "And you are drunk."

"Nah. I have too much experience with this stuff to be that far gone already," you protested weakly. "I'm - mildly inebriated. And you know that unless I get really sloshed…"

Rhodey rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Yeah, yeah, high-functioning alcoholic, I've heard it all before," he muttered irritably as he stepped into view wearing something that seemed unusually casual; nothing like the military duds he seemed to like so much. "You wanted to see me, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. Go, sit." You gestured to the next chair. "Pepper's off somewhere, she won't mind. She'll get you a beer soon enough. The bottle is mine. You can't have it." You gestured to the television next to you. "I'm almost up to date, now."

"An anonymous source confirms that the recent outage at Stark Industries was related to a green energy experiment, and let slip that it was successful. Stocks, which have been fluctuating in recent weeks due to uncertainties regarding the state of its CEO, have calmed somewhat in recent days, with a slight upwards trend."

"Obi, you little scoundrel…" you muttered, shaking your head as you turned off the television.

"He's just looking out for the good of the company," Rhodey said. "It seems like you haven't tanked the stocks with your little gambit, either. Well done," he added dryly as he sat down on the chair next to yours. "I actually expected you downstairs, you know. The last three times I was here, you barely even responded to me."

"I was busy," you defended. "I'm trying to get some traction with the company, and a few ideas came to me that needed some attention. The whole social thing sort of fell by the wayside." You frowned. "It's like the clock turned back to my teenage years, it's weird. Anyway, you're here now, and I'm soaking in some good old skin cancer rays, so I guess we can discuss the big problems."

Rhodey shrugged as he leaned back in the chair. "I've been busy with that little doozy you put me on, in between shifts. I should mention that the army wasn't very happy with my research. They tolerated me poking around for a while, but I have a feeling I might have offended some people." He frowned. "I came across quite a few problems, but I left most of them aside since they weren't really serious. I still ended up getting investigated after I looked up people that the CIA is after, though."

"That doesn't sound too good," you said slowly. "Any of them have familiar names?"

He shook his head. "I was trying to track down who was responsible for the missing shipments, but it seems that the logs were pretty thoroughly cleansed. I managed to get some basic info on which ships were used, but they've got rotating crews and it's hard to pinpoint who is responsible when the data's been compromised like this. When I tried to cross-reference some of the supposed people on those ships..."

"Fake names drawn from some nasty registry or another?" You nodded as you considered that. "Jarvis can't help with tracking down who edited this stuff, and when? I've just upgraded him, he's eager to please."

Rhodey grimaced. "I doubt it. The data's been stripped clean - the only reason we even know something's missing is that the weapons are appearing on the black market. All I could really find was that whoever did this has some serious access to internal files on the Stark servers, and a bad sense of humor."

"To get access to our internal files, you need permission. The only people who can just freely access everything are myself, and - Obi?" You paused, thinking of the little flash drive that you'd stashed downstairs, the one that a flustered Obadiah had given you as a fail-safe. "That's ludicrous. More than likely someone hacked into the system."

Despite your words, a chill ran down your back. Obadiah had entrusted you with important information, and you were sure he had a good reason for that. You seriously doubted that someone who was guilty of stealing would entrust you with something important, but there were other possibilities. What if it had been Obi's access codes that were compromised, and he had found out about it? If he'd made himself a target by uncovering the thieves, it was no wonder he'd want to stash the truth somewhere safe. And who would he pick but the one person who could actually use the information he had discovered?

"Hey, Jarvis?" you asked slowly. "I'm having a hunch here. Use your new hacking tools, and check whether Obi is still in the system at SI." You frowned. "You can't afford anyone noticing that the files have been accessed, in case the leak is watching, so be careful."

"Tony, what are you saying…?" Rhodey asked, mystified. "You don't really believe that Mr. Stane would -"

Jarvis piped up. "There is an anomaly, sir. The account in question was deleted seventeen hours ago via local access, from Mr. Stane's personal computer."

"Obadiah did that. He's locking himself out," you observed. "I think he knows he's been compromised, but he doesn't want to lead whoever is responsible to me, in case the leak notices. He talked to me while the power is off so he could make sure nobody was listening in." You frowned. "Why would he do that, if the Vegas episode already showed that they were after me? Unless that wasn't a part of it… In which case S.H.I.E.L.D.'s off the friends list too..."

"Tony?"

You shook your head. "Jarvis - dial up Obadiah, and tell me the moment you have him on the line. If he doesn't answer, check in on anyone else around to figure out where he was last seen. I think he's in trouble."

Rhodey grabbed his own phone from his pocket, offering it to you. "You can just call him yourself, can't you?"

You stared at the device. "If you've been looking into this as deeply as you say, your phone's probably bugged already," you remarked dryly. "WiFi is on. Jarvis, check Rhodey's phone while you're at it, look for any listening software. You should have more than enough parallel processing to do that, now."

"Of course, sir." The AI sounded downright smug. "There is indeed malware on Mr. Rhodes' phone, as you suspected," he continued immediately. "There are noticeable traces, however they do not resemble any common program. In fact, the code is nearly 85% identical to the link-up code that I myself employ. Tracing back to previous versions in the database, it is 97% identical to last November's revision."

"Sonofabitch," you mouthed, aghast. "Someone pirated you, Jarvis?"

"Only a fraction. The most likely scenario is that someone took possession of a phone with my code installed, and edited it for their own purposes," Jarvis noted. "Security protocols that should have prevented my program from working were removed - this implies access to advanced cryptographic decoders and considerable ingenuity."

"That means someone smart did this. Someone you-smart," Rhodey observed darkly. "Does the company have any enemies who can do that? Do you?"

You nodded. "Every competitor that's worth a damn has some eggheads around to do the dirty work," you observed morosely. "Thing is, they've seriously stepped up the extremism from corporate espionage if it's any of them. Because someone's hired a world-class hacker to keep the smuggling operation a secret, an assassin from Weapon Plus to send a message, and some good old-fashioned terrorist from the middle-east, if we assume S.H.I.E.L.D.'s right about that. Anyone wanna panic yet?"

"What do we do?" Rhodey demanded.

"As long as Obi's not answering his phone, we can't do jack," you said. "I have no idea where I'd even start looking for him if he's not at the company or at home - he's slippery when he wants to be. Judging from Jarvis's silence on the topic, odds are he's in the wind. And given that the people after him were already listening in on your calls, Rhodey, I think it's smart that you don't go anywhere dark and lonely either in the foreseeable future."

"What do you mean?"

You shrugged lightly. "What can I say? You can crash on my couch if you wish."

Rhodey started. "You want me to stay here?"

"Well, yeah. Unless you want to get blown up?" you asked dryly, as you sipped at your drink. "Panicking won't do us any good, and I'm prepared for a lot of things. If you want to head home, I'll call a friend of mine to escort you, and have his people stake out your place. Just in case." You thought of Coulson, and smiled. "I have a feeling that they're more interested in keeping me safe than telling the truth, but that's not a problem right now."

"You want me to sit on my ass?" Rhodey demanded. "Do nothing?"

You narrowed your eyes. "No, I think not. Get yourself some good guns - and expect a call. I have a feeling that the moment Jarvis finds a sign of Obi's whereabouts, we'll need to roll out. Be ready for that."

Rhodey looked at you with a strange expression for a few long moments, then nodded sharply. "You're going to do this one vigilante-style? Don't want to get the armed forces into it? You're not exactly..."

"You're mistaken. I am the armed forces," you murmured. "Go. The moment I hear anything, this is going down."

"So, exactly how old are you?" you asked as you tweaked the arc reactor you'd been fiddling with for the last hour with a tiny wrench - hopefully, it would one day be a fitting replacement for the one in your chest. You were mostly fiddling with it to distract yourself from thinking about the possibility that Obi was hurt, even as Jarvis continued to search for him. Rhodey had headed home after all, but he kept in regular contact. So that left you alone. Excellent. "Well, gonna answer?"

"Um… Seventeen. ...Seventeen-ish. Not sure why you wanna know," Peter said slowly, staring at the glowing blue device. "You do realize that thing's really dangerous, right? Like, it's actually glowing."

"Well, yeah. It's several megawatts of concentrated power that's contained within a device barely bigger than my fist. I could be holding a grenade, and you'd be less observant," you said with a roll of your eyes. "Lucky for you, I removed the proverbial firing pin. If I do something really awful, it could destabilize, but it'll fizzle before anything more that happens. Would give me a nasty burn, but nothing more."

"As long as you're careful," he said blandly. "Not a big fan of grenades, myself. Or guns."

"You're from New York," you murmured. "I excuse your liberal values on account of that. And in any case, I don't love guns. I just really appreciate not having enemies, and guns are a great way to make that happen." You picked up the arc reactor, and smiled. "This thing can take a hell of a beating, though. Catch!"

You didn't toss the thing underhanded - with a swing that wouldn't have looked out of place on a baseball field you launched it at Peter, crossing the distance in a fraction of a second. In that same time, the boy's hand shot up and grasped the device tightly, suspending it an inch in front of his face. He hadn't had any warning - it had just happened.

"Beautiful catch," you crooned as you smiled. "Could not have done it better myself. Seriously - my nervous system is slow as molasses compared to yours."

Peter's expression shifted for a second to something like shock, before it smoothed over again into boredom - so quick that it seemed downright automatic, and you might not have noticed at all if you hadn't expected it. "That's because you're old as dirt," the boy quipped, and you had to give him props for the effortless recovery.

"I'm older than you, not old," you argued. You narrowed your eyes for a moment, nodding to yourself. "I'm guessing that there's some story behind your sudden visit, right? I mean, I know I left that invitation open, but I'd sort of written it off as a no-show…"

"Someone… told me to visit you," Peter said after a long moment, looking away.

"Someone,"you repeated with emphasis. "And you can't tell me who?"

Peter shrugged. "He said you two already met, and I figure he likes his privacy. Anyway, that wasn't really all of the reason. It's - I figured since you're a big competitor, you'd know a thing or two about Oscorp…"

You pulled a face. "Unfortunately, yeah."

"Yes, well, I don't exactly like them much either," Peter admitted. "They've been doing some shady stuff, and I'm sort-of friends with the son of the CEO, Harry. He's been - giving off some freaky vibes lately, and the company's suspicious to begin with. So, I'm thinking…"

"In case you haven't noticed, my company and Oscorp don't really get along," you said dryly. "What do you propose I do about those - freaky vibes? I can't exactly fly over there and tap Norman on his fingers without getting a bunch of blowhards complaining…"

Peter shrugged, and it seemed like a very genuine gesture. "I don't know - but I thought that if anyone would know what that creep is doing behind closed doors…" He shook his head. "I really did want to take up your invitation back then, but I couldn't hang around while my aunt thought I was hurt. The news did make it look much worse than it was."

You nodded slowly, narrowing your eyes. There clearly was more to the reason why Peter came to you than just some vague Oscorp-related suspicions, or the word of some unnamed stranger. He probably wasn't looking for a job - just trying to figure out what to do about his troubles. Given what you'd deduced about him, he probably had a lot that kept him awake.

"...Follow me down, would you? I've got something to show you." You stood and walked to the glass door that led to the staircase. "Leave your bags and whatever here - nobody photographs the secret stuff. Jarvis, open up the garage for us."

"Sir, you instructed me not to let anyone-"

"You heard me."

Peter looked around curiously as he descended down to the basement behind you, glancing over the various half-assembled gadgets that lay spread around the rooms. "You know, back in NY they would've put some serious questions at being asked to follow some older man into the basement. Bad connotations and all that…"

"Yeah, don't start with that," you said quickly. "Come on, the magic's back here. And yes, I know that put in the wrong context, this is all horrible. Now shut up and watch me be awesome." You turned on a dime, positioning yourself over an unassuming white spot on the floor. "Get on it, Jarvis. Make it flashy. No buts."

"Of course, sir," Jarvis said in a long-suffering tone.

"What are you talking about?" Peter asked, but he paused as the sound of a Metallica song poured from the speakers, and with a groaning noise, something below his feet shifted.You glanced down just in time to see the floor shift aside.

"This is the really cool part," you said with a wide smile, as dozens of electronic arms darted from the floor, unfolding and transforming smoothly as they brought dozens of pieces of metal and electronics into view. You barely had to move your feet to slip into metal boots that fit perfectly, shaped to match your physique. The assembly of the legs and arms was fast, and Jarvis seemed especially eager to show off, twisting and turning parts more for effect than any practical purpose. The torso attached solidly, and the helm was last to arrive, closing with a solid thunk over your face - and then there was darkness.

An instant later the world flooded in again, as internal holographic systems blinked on. A high-quality image of the outside world projected itself in front of your eyes, and a UI seamlessly slid over it, following the movement of your eyes and listing diagnostics before you'd even asked for them. The slack-jawed expression on Peter's face was instantly photographed and saved, and bio-metric readings started soon thereafter. As expected, they were a little odd.That figured.

"You built functional battle armor?" Peter asked as he stared at the suit. Though current unarmed beyond repulsors, it looked quite fearsome. This was only the third time you'd put on the suit; the first time with anyone else present. "Okay, that - that is so freaking badass! I can't believe how cool that is!"

"Ah, you haven't seen the coolest bit!" you declared, and the face plate opened up, revealing your sweaty face. "Jarvis - close the blast doors beneath me."

"Sir -"

"You're questioning my orders again. Obedience didn't last long," you responded, and reluctantly the doors beneath you shifted closed, covering the delicate machinery beneath. "Peter - take a step back, would you? This is gonna be loud."

"I - of course." He hastened to the wall, still wide-eyed.

With a single brief burst of energy and a cacophony of raging noise, the entire suit lifted off the ground an inch, then two - the multi-ton metal exoskeleton balanced on the exhaust of four repulsors. It was hovering more than anything, of course - but the message was loud and clear. Yeah - you could fly.

"I want one!" Peter shouted with absolute certainty over the roaring of the boot jets. "Can I have one? Please?"

The repulsors shut down with a hiss, and you dropped down half a feet, landing with a fantastic clang that came very close to leaving a dent, aside from the burn scars you'd already left. "Do you have seven-hundred million dollars?" you asked rhetorically. "This thing's for personal use. I've been planning to test it out, but it's been hectic. This thing is my answer to some of the stranger things that have been in the news lately. You should know."

"...I should?" the boy asked with a convincing clueless expression.

"New York, right? Lots of crazy there." Well, time to dive in, then. "I figured, since you go out to beat people up in blue-and-red pajamas..." You stretched your arms, ready to put the suit away until you could actually try it outside, and Jarvis's arms appeared just as Peter stumbled in surprise. "What? Was it something I said?"

Peter stared, aghast. "...What?"

"I think your costume looks pretty cool, though I'd go with more hot-rod red myself," you said easily, amused at the boy's perplexed look. "Hey, don't look so shocked. You kind of gave yourself away last time we met," you explained. "You're Spider-Man, aren't you? Who'd have thought. No, seriously, who would have? You're like - some kid."

Peter stared at you like you'd grown horns. It hadn't actually been that hard to connect the dots; between your observation of Peter's superhuman strength and agility, his annoyance with his current employer's fixation with the local super-freak, and press descriptions of the masked vigilante with superhuman powers, it was honestly sort of cheating. When you'd seen the first pictures in which some hair was visible, that pretty much clinched it. The boy really had to learn to keep his mask on straight.

"You remember Deadpool? That asshole in Vegas?" You smiled at Peter's silence, as the armor was folded away from your arms. "He was involved in Weapon Plus experiments. A reject Captain America, if you will. That man had enough muscle in those pile-drivers of his to bench press a car, and you disarmed him with a slap. Not exactly subtle, though I really appreciate the assist."

"Ah, crap," Peter mouthed, glancing towards the exit. He looked like he was about ready to run, and the awkwardness that he'd feigned before vanished.

"Relax - I'm the only one who knows about this," you explained as Jarvis removed the final parts of your suit, and you stepped forward, arms raised. "The security cameras caught everything, but I deleted those files before anyone could check them. Pepper never even saw what you did, and Pym was in no position to see much of anything. That leaves Deadpool - who was shot in the head, if you recall, by the guy who arrived last. You're safe."

"So this is that why you invited me?" Peter demanded, then, looking suddenly more forward, and you were all too aware that his unassuming physique hit a lot of power. "So all of it wasn't about what you said, was it? Offering me a job and such? You just wanted to out me?"

"Yeah, I was totally gonna give you up to the press - in my basement," you observed, mystified. "I was truthful about the job thing.The superhuman stuff - well, I thought that would come up at some point." You gestured behind you to the disassembled armor that was vanishing back into the floor. "I'm hard at work on self-improvement as you can tell, so I'm not criticizing you for whatever crazy thing you did to yourself. I hear you do good work in the Big Apple, with your - gifts. All kinds of heroism, right?"

"...Yeah," Peter said lamely. "So, you're not going to rat me out?"

You smiled. "Not unless you're up for that, no. But I'll toss a bonus on your salary to make up for the scare," you said simply. "Besides, you know some of my secrets, now. It evens out, don't you think?" You walked to your workbench, tapping the drawings that were spread out there. "Here, check out some of my plans… I've been drawing up cool ideas. Figured you might be interested."

"...Are you designing spaceships?" Peter inquired, still staring at you strangely as he looked over the whiteboards. "Is that a - you don't think small, do you?"

"Well, you got powers, and you use them to make the world a better place," you said easily. "I've been working in the same direction. I kind of pulled away from the weapons thing, and have been focusing on energy lately." You tapped the arc reactor in your chest. "This thing's one of my creations, and it's promising to be an important one. I've been working on shifting Stark Industries production towards peaceful applications like the arc reactor. That was where I figured you might fit."

"I admit, the military stuff doesn't really appeal to me," Peter agreed. "Hold on, now," he said, frowning. "This is all... You know who I am. What I do. And you're - fine with that? Skipping on to some other subject? I figured this is kind of a big deal here! Spider-Man, all that?"

You shrugged. "Until I researched this stuff, I'd barely even heardof Spider-Man - you are a local legend, I'm sure, but national news barely covers your exploits. Bummer." You narrowed your eyes. "Who knows, maybe that can change? With your kind of abilities, you shouldn't be locked into punching small-time crooks and such, that's what regular police are for. You should be out there doing big things, making a difference."

"Believe me, we have plenty of irregular crooks in the city," Peter complained. "There's this guy who has a giant rhino suit - seriously, don't ask. Also an old guy, geriatric, who goes around doing vampire stuff while wearing a bird costume. It's weird. Oh, and I haven't even gotten to the actual vampire!"

"Sounds… interesting." You smiled. "I've read a few bits and pieces of that stuff - I'm guessing someone's been working pretty hard to shove most of it under the carpet, even if the Daily Bugle harps on about it. I've got a few likely suspects." You shrugged. "Anyway, I am totally cool with the web slinging. Kind of jealous, actually. I'm offering money and freedom, and I'll throw in great dental. What do you say?"

"...I have a family. Back in New York," Peter said. "I can't just - leave."

You smirked. "Then don't. I've got a few ideas on how to solve that. Who knows, maybe it's time to bring the fight to Oscorp's hunting grounds?"

Peter shook his head. "...You're so weird."

"I'm rich - it's called eccentric." You paused. "By the way, how does that webbing of yours work? Inquiring geniuses want to know."

"Well…" Peter fumbled with his sleeves. "It's..."

Jarvis spoke up, then. "Sir - I have just received confirmation of Mr. Stane's last known location. He was spotted at a harbor downtown, in the company of several unknown masked figures. The report was made to the police approximately five minutes ago. I am sending you the coordinates."

"...Yeah, I figure this would come up at the most inopportune time ever." You glanced aside, frowning. "Did you bring your costume, by any chance?"

Peter blinked. "...Can I take the big shiny armor?"

Author's Note: The new arc is here! I'll post the next section tomorrow. Right now it's about four chapters worth of content here on ffnet, but since it's still ongoing I'm not sure how much will be added to that before the end. Cheers.