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Phase 1: Spy Games

=IS=

Part 1

=IS=

Tony Stark's home

California

When you're Tony Stark, the government comes to you. In my experience, that's not necessarily a good thing. I've been the one sent to visit people back in the good old days of the Sith Empire. It seldom ended well for the people I was sent to investigate. CEOs, Moffs, it didn't matter if they crossed the Empire. All their money and clout meant nothing in the end.

Now, I was the one who had to play host to agents, who fortunately had nowhere the power and reach of a Sith working for a member of the Dark Council.

Today's dream team consisted of a colonel from the DOD, a pair of very special FBI agents, a CIA spook, and Coulson, who posed as a Homeland Security. SHIELD were cheating bastards who liked to cheat. I got the message; thank you very much!

There were a lot of questions I had to answer. Pictures too – of my handiwork and lightly enough scorched Stark Industries weaponry to ensure things like legal trouble, Senate Hearings, and the like might be in the future. That would be an inconvenient waste of time.

Tony Stark was Stark Industries CEO, at least on paper. People associated me with the company, which might just make an impression of a rock tied around my neck and ready to plunge into the ocean, dragging me under.

"We are scouring the whole country for more equipment your company might have misplaced, Mr. Stark." Colonel Simmons continued. "In Iraq too."

"There were too many weapons to just write them off as 'falling' off the back of a truck." I air-quoted. "My family has been in the weapons business for a long time, always working with the US government." I put on smile number two, "dazzle the investors." "I know what reputation I had until recently," My smile didn't shift when I pointedly looked at pictures of the massacre at the terrorist camp. "I wouldn't be surprised if members of our esteemed government went over my head and cut a deal with more understanding elements within Stark Industries to get some ghost production going on. If that's the case, I'll kindly ask you to clean up your mess. If not, I do require assistance in clearing up Stark Industries. This isn't something that a few bribes can cover up."

My guests looked at each other. So far, the meeting wasn't going on as they expected. That much was obvious. If I didn't know better, I would have thought that a few of them were eager to put all the blame on SI and wash their hands off the issue. That didn't make sense, especially as far as the military was concerned. The last thing they would want is a disruption in production while I tore through SI looking for who fucked me over.

"To the best of my knowledge, if there is ghost production as you put it, Mr. Stark, the US government didn't authorize or request it." Simmons felt uneasy when he said that. He was damn uncomfortable, yet he told me the truth as he knew it. Perhaps something else was eating him.

I looked at the FBI agents.

"We will, of course, investigate what can be espionage and illegal sale of weapons." Special Agent Mayers said. "However, before we begin, we will need access to all the evidence the military gathered in Afghanistan."

Was this the issue? A pissing match between agencies for who can solve the problem?

Coulson gave me a pointed look relying on his commiseration.

"Get a request through the proper channels, and I'm sure the relevant department will give you what you need." Simmons blandly responded.

I was sure he didn't care either way. It wasn't his responsibility to deal with such details.

"We're, of course, ready to assist in any way possible to maintain the security of the United States." Coulson joined the circus.

"Such investigations fall under our jurisdiction!" Mayers shot back. "We have federal crimes here!" He tapped a picture of the stolen equipment meant for one of my industrial facilities. "If nothing else, we've got theft with crossing state lines, then smuggling the goods out of the country to top it off! We have the people and experience to investigate espionage, corporate or not. We've got the auditors needed to go through SI files and get to this bottom faster than anyone else!"

I didn't bother pointing out that if it were this simple, Jarvis would have notified me of the issue long before I got blown up and kidnapped. At best, a lot of our files were expertly doctored.

"The serial numbers, and if those are fake, micro traces from the equipment used should help us trace the recovered weapons to the plan that produced them. From there, we might be able to begin unraveling who authorized the production, how they supplied the necessary resources, and more." I pointed out. "I'm as angry as anyone because of this disaster." I tapped my chest. "I have souvenirs that can't be removed and might kill me from weapons my own company built. There aren't many people more motivated than I am to find the truth. I am yet to hear a good angle of attack from any of you."

"Tracing the weapons is the most solid lead we have." Simmons agreed. "We will look into smuggling channels and weapon dealers on our side. I doubt that official Stark Logistics transport drove them to the terrorists and handed them the weapons."

"I certainly hope not!" I didn't need to fake indignation here. If the rot had spread that far, I might as well burn SI and start a new corporation from the ground up.

"We're creating a task force to handle the investigation." Mayer's buddy pipped up.

"When will it be ready to deploy?"

"By the end of the week. The agents already in place can begin work immediately."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We're still unsure if the missing equipment comes directly from Stark Industries or if we somehow managed to misplace it." Coulson smiled disarmingly, earning himself the ire of his colleagues. "I was made aware that we're currently physically checking the stocks of our SI-built weapons?" He asked Simmons.

"All military branches inspect our SI weapon stocks and audit reports on expended ordnance. According to the records, everything is as it should be. We have detachments all over the world making sure that's true."

"I have a few ideas that will fix that, but I'm not going to make promises I might not be able to back. The tech might not be here to make what I have in mind practical." I decided to be helpful again.

"As long as it doesn't find its way in the wrong hands." The colonel's deep voice rumbled.

"We'll be investigating anyway." Fed one grumbled. He didn't seem to like my company much and was practically gleeful at any opportunity to demand answers.

Did I sleep with his wife or daughter? Perhaps both?

"I would expect nothing less." I cheerfully agreed. "I will be happy to help. Who will lead the investigation? You? Homeland? The DOD people?"

My guests looked at each other and began their pissing contest in earnest. Coulson sent me an amused glance behind the backs of the rest.

"We'll get back to you, Mr. Stark, once we've straightened out the jurisdiction." Mr. Agent said.

"Sure. You know where to find me. Any more questions?"

"We request you don't leave the country." Fed Two answered.

"Considering what happened the last time? I won't be leaving the states unless your investigation requires it. I'm just glad to be home mostly intact." I shuddered, and it wasn't just for show. "I might move to somewhere with less sun and sand. They occasionally remind me of the desert."

"Understandable." Simmons nodded. "We'll keep in touch if there're other questions."

"How's Doctor Yinsen? I meant to check up on him. Have you talked with him yet?"

"We did before sending him home," Simons said.

"Oh. I'll have to call him then. Now, there's something you need to know—a head up to your superiors. I intend to halt all production lines until we can clean up the house. There are already too many of my weapons in the wild, ready to murder our soldiers and those of our allies. This is unacceptable. I will speak with the board of directors first, then give a press conference. However, before that, I would like you to have task forces in place to secure the industrial plants so we can figure out which ones are compromised and who is a fucking traitor. Eating the penalties for delay in production is better than seeing young Americans blown to pieces with my weapons."

Simmons' eyes widened at that. He now watched me with a sense of respect. Coulson was surprised but nodded in approval. Mayers, on the other hand, felt gleeful. What was wrong with that bastard? When did I piss in his cereal?

A round of exchanged pleasantries – forced in the case of Mayers – and most of my guests were on their way. I was getting a snack when the Secret Agent Man was back.

"Mr. Agent." I nodded. "Are you Coulson now, Howard from Homeland or something else?" I asked.

"I hear you've been looking around for SHIELD data?" Mr. Agent continued to smile.

"You've been properly paranoid little spies. Only one network was left vulnerable. It was either bait or old-fashioned human error." I grumbled.

"I wouldn't know. While we're on the topic of hacking, Stark Industries."

"You want access. I take it Ms. Super Assassin is good at sneaking around?"

"Very. Why?" Coulson asked.

"SI's servers and networks and properly air-gaped. There should be no way to connect to the secure systems from outside." I noted.

Considering our close ties with the military, the US government, by default, had access to many of our confidential files. The military did provide part of the security for some of our more valuable facilities, including the central office on the outskirts of LA.

Not to mention that practically all our military-related projects were for the US armed forces and NATO allies.

Frankly, I wasn't sure how Tony in the movies could get away with shutting down SI's military division for good without paying astronomical penalties and gutting the company. It was probably because

the plot required it or something.

Here in the real world, such a stunt would be a big issue no one could conveniently ignore.

Coulson watched me and waited.

"There's a hardwired backdoor in SI's mainframe in the central office. I'll need to build a certain chip, which, if slotted, will give me unrestricted access to the air-gapped networks. Of course, we'll have to slot the chip and then use one of the terminals on the network to copy and examine the files on it for clues."

"You want one of our agents to slot the chip," Coulson noted. "Why can't you do it yourself?"

"If I go anywhere near the servers, it might raise an alarm among those we're looking for. Right now, we have no idea how deep the rot is. I'll act as a distraction. Officially, your Ms. Agent will be my new assistant giving her a lot of access. She'll still need to get into the server room, slot the chip quietly, and then get out without anyone seeing her."

I didn't mention Obi was involved. First, I didn't have any proof. Second, I would deal with the bastard myself.

"That makes sense," Coulson noted calmly.

"Now, why are you here as well, Mr. Agent?"

"SHIELD will be conducting a separate investigation. We won't be burdened by a rivalry between agencies or arguments over jurisdiction. I was here for your official debriefing. If you want to add something more, I'm all ears. Otherwise, I have a job to do and leave you to deal with my colleague."

"So instead of being rivals with the other agencies, you're just going to ignore them?" I inquired.

"Both our jurisdiction and reach are broader." Coulson nodded at me and made his way towards the main door.

=IS=

Part 2

=IS=

Caritas Night Club

California

Obadiah Stane thanked the bartender after the younger man had handed him his drink. A paper napkin with a few words scratched on it was stuck to the glass's underside. VIP lounge. 5 min.

Stane took a sip of his whiskey. It was the good stuff. He turned around and observed the club. It was chock full of people. Some danced on the floor to the beat of reverberating music from hidden loudspeakers; others sat on the bar or in discrete booths around the walls talking and laughing.

Multicolored lights and artificial mist gave the place a haunting, almost beautiful visa. It reminded Obadiah of his youth, of a better time when he had fewer regrets.

There were days, like tonight, when he wondered when his ambition and resentment got the better of him. For years after Howard's death, Obadiah saw Tony as his son. He couldn't tell when that changed. Was it covering for the boy one too many gaffes? Perhaps it was one too many days doing Tony's job as a CEO. After Stark came of age, he was usually too busy chasing skirts instead of dealing with everything that had to be done to keep Start Industries prosperous. After all, in this kind of business, merely having the best weapons on the market wasn't enough. Convincing the government to buy enough of them was the trick, especially when Hammer and the others of his ilk were ready to offer good enough gear at lower prices.

That was something that never quite clicked in Tony's head. Having state-of-the-art products that even the US government couldn't afford enough of didn't make the company money. Major contracts to outfit whole military branches with equipment and supply them with munitions for the long haul were SI's bread and butter. Unless someone constantly sat on him, Tony kept chasing pipe dreams instead of building practical weapons. Even if he delivered, he often wouldn't make the company money for years, if not longer. The repulsor technology in the Jericho missiles was a recent example. Tony wasted a lot of time and significant resources to get it working. Yet, only months ago, SI could finally build a viable prototype and figure out how to mass produce the critical component to make selling it to the military feasible.

If Obadiah had to be honest with himself, that was how it all began. SI built the best prototype weapons in the world. However, they were too expensive to mass produce so that the military could field them. Stane smiled mirthlessly. Unless you knew the right people ready to pay extraordinary amounts of cash and favors for prototypes, they could tinker with and reverse engineer. These relationships grew from the odd schematic and idea until Obadiah was good friends with the right people and knew how to grease the right palms. That was another thing that Tony never got. Personal relationships, friendships, and mutual profit could guarantee contracts, even if your product weren't the best. In the same vein, they could ensure the government won't buy a superior product because of the price, real or imagined flaws.

The few times Obadiah tried to explain it, Tony stared at him as if he was speaking a foreign language. It would be adorable and fun if it weren't so frustrating. Tony was a Stark. They had Stark Industries and the best products. Why on Earth people wouldn't be eager to buy everything they had to offer?!

Stane still didn't know if it was arrogance or naivety or if Tony's genius brain didn't work like ordinary people.

Did it matter at this point? Stane did the unthinkable on multiple fronts. He sold weapons to terrorists and less than friendly states. Everyone with money and the right connections. It all began so easy and simple! Back then, it was just a way to find "clean" funds to bribe the correct people behind Tony's back. More recently, avoiding Stark's pet AI became more expensive and frustrating. Not to mention he had to build a fund to guarantee his future. It began as a little secret nest egg for his retirement or in case everything leaked, and he had to run. His nest egg only grew from there, including favors and guarantees of protection in countries that would never extradite him to the US.

Before he knew it, Obadiah was neck-deep in selling some of the best weapons Stark Industries created to foreign countries. They would reverse, engineer it, upgrade their capabilities, and Stark would have to create something that was the new bleeding edge. Consequently, SI made billions of profit after covering all expenses that got them there. Life was good. Great even!

All the while, Tony continued to tinker, more often than not, in fields that had nothing to do with weapons. More importantly, he kept wasting his time drinking and womanizing all over the world. Obadiah had to do all the real work on keeping the firm in the green. He had to cover for the kid again and again. And suddenly, he had a gut full of it all.

He did all the essential work and more, while Tony kept wasting his life. It was simply too much.

The most surprising thing was how easy it was to arrange Tony's assassination by providing a lot of weapons to the Ten Rings. Stane even had a contingency to ensure that Tony would take most of the blame if the illegal weapon sales came to light. It was a perfect crime, and then everything went to hell.

Stane should have known better. Criminals. Terrorists. Of course, you couldn't trust them to get the job done. Now Tony was back, and he was sniffing around. Various agencies were on it too, and the false trail was unlikely to hold up with a live Tony about to tell his side of the story. After all, dead men told no tales, nor could they deny anything.

Obadiah finished his drink and headed for the VIP lounge.

Worst of all, someone else knew about his off-the-book deals. That's why he was in this club tonight. Oh, Caritas was a place he did visit at least a few times a month, often in the company of clients, he was wooing. It wasn't out of character for him to be here. Not tonight, however; not after someone had sent him a recording of a conversation he had with one of the terrorists after they captured Tony.

=SI=

The VIP lounge on the second floor was much quieter. You could actually hold a conversation here without shouting or straining to hear. The place was tastefully decorated in leather and chrome, giving it a slim futuristic look. The various booths were enclosed and could be isolated from the outside to hold more or less private meetings. A jammer or two could take care of any surveillance making the place quite popular for conducting business deals. Obadiah had used it for both above and below-board negotiations, and as far as he knew, there were no leaks from this pace. Of course, tonight's meeting might indicate otherwise.

A Caucasian man dressed in a well-cut suit met him and nodded toward a nearby open booth. Two expressionless brown eyes stared at Stane until he nodded and went inside. The man followed and sealed the door. The only unusual thing Obadiah could see was a small SI-produced jammer lying on the table. Its light was green, indicating it worked.

"Mr. Stone, I'm agent Ward from Shield. I'm here to give you an offer you can't refuse." The newly named Ward pulled out a smartphone from his pants pocket and threw it at Obadiah.

Stane caught the slim device, unlocked it, and frowned. There was a paused video of him speaking with the Ten Rings.

"I'm all ears."

Ward smiled.

Fifteen minutes later, Obadiah Stane walked out of Caritas and got into his car as a Shield asset.

=SI=

Director's office
The Triskelion
Theodore Roosevelt Island

"What is your read on Stark?" Director Nicholas Fury asked.

On the monitor of his computer, Phil Coulson frowned.

"From what I saw, our profile on the man seems to be off. PTSD can't account for the changes, and the army didn't find any traces of overt torture or chemical conditioning. The man I met isn't the playboy I was expecting. If I didn't know better, I would compare him to a retired operative."

Now Fury frowned too.

"Elaborate." The Director didn't like unknowns and curiosities. More often than not, when something was off, it was a problem his people had to solve quietly.

"Are we sure Stark isn't supposed to have competent combat training?" Coulson asked. "The way his eyes scan for threats, sometimes the way he moves... it's like a veteran. I'm pretty sure Stark isn't even aware he's doing it. You've seen the same reports on the Ten Rings' compound. Romanoff only took out a few of the positions outside. Yinsen only killed a handful of people during their escape."

"Stark cut through more than a platoon of terrorists as if he was one of our best agents. Even considering his armored suit, what he did is extraordinary." Fury allowed.

He tapped some commands on his station and brought up the results of Stark's medical examination by the military. It did include a DNA test that matched; the same was true for the biometrics. He was reasonably sure that the man the military recovered in Afghanistan was indeed Stark. Romanoff's report stated more or less the same. The man's AI was convinced that this was the genuine article.

"Get May out of the office. I'll have other assignments for Romanoff soon, and I want someone competent to keep tabs on Stark, just in case. How's the investigation going on?"

"Interesting. There's a thin trail indicating Stark might have had something to do with his weapons ending up with the terrorists who held him. However, the man has a pet AI, and I find it hard to believe we would have found this kind of trail if he was behind it. So far, I do not see a motive either. It certainly can't be money." Coulson pointed out.

"Ideology?" Fury suggested. Stark's profile told the man was a typical rich playboy with an ego out of all proportions. Until recently, all the ideology Tony Stark cared about was drinking, getting laid, and tinkering, in that order. But who knew for sure, considering what happened over the past few months? "I'll have people dig in deeper in his past and have them confirm everything about the man we have an electronic record of."

"It could be that the man got bored with the high life. It won't be the first time happened." Coulson suggested.

Fury grimaced. That was undoubtedly true. SHIELD had to either cover for or clean up the mess of rich kids with more resources than sense. A couple even became half-decent assets.

"Keep looking and keep me posted." Fury cut off the connection. "What's your game, Stark?" He wondered aloud. For now, that was Coulson's and Romanoff's problem. Fury had bigger fish to fry.

=SI=

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