Interlude - Obadiah Stane. Falling apart

Location: Los Angeles. SI HQ

Date: May 5 2008

Everything was falling apart. Those fucking morons did not even do their job properly and tried to blackmail me to get more weapons. It was an honest mistake. They even failed to contain Stark in their hands and now I had to find a way to hide my ends. It would be disastrous otherwise.

Stark came back different as well. He was jagged, yes, and suspicious as hell. He did not show his mistrust and tried to hide it under his façade, but I saw it through, he was not the first and not the last wearing it, and it was a poor job anyway.

That's why I was sitting in the middle of the night in my office with a whiskey in my hand and going over files. I needed to clean up my ends, and some questionable documents had to go first. I was less careful since Stark disappeared and SI was all in my hands. I didn't expect his return, at all. Fucking monkeys. It is time to make them disappear as well. 

With that though, I made a call. Hopefully the last one as well.

"Raza …"

🪨

It was not a complete waste. With the help of mercenaries, I not only hid these ends in the sand, but I got something that Tony left behind. If only he left his prototype behind as well. Unfortunately Stark took care of that. Whatever was left was mostly a pile of crap, but some pieces might help somewhat.

The most important treasure that Stark left behind - was a laptop with software and files on a prototype. Somehow it survived and Raza tried to bargain with it for more weapons to buy.

Too bad for him, I was not in the mood to leave him breathing. He has done too much damage to my plans already.

🪨

In the last three months, I was free to do what I pleased. I looked for promising engineers capable of replacing Stark, or at least as much as possible. RnD personnel are not capable of replacing him, I tried that before. 

One of the first, who I hired, was Patrick McCormack. He was good and had a good resume with smaller companies that we pushed to smaller markets. He had some grudges with Stark from MIT time. That was as good as any way to motivate him.

Hopefully, he can make me armour, out of all this. Stark did it in a cave, with outdated tools. It should be a piece of cake with the tools that they have in SI.

🪨

I was angry and disappointed. Unfortunately, McCormack failed to replicate a power source. He did fine with everything else, anyway most of the ideas that Stark used were already in the SI database - linear engines, air-grade composition materials and metals, and even ballistic computers (mostly used in SI missile products).

The forgotten laptop and software on it were most helpful. McCormack even did better than Stark in the cave - he added proper anti-missile defence systems, more refined controls and flight assistance. But unfortunately increasing the size of the armour was not enough. We were lacking a power source and Stark was really secretive about that.

If I can get my hands on that, I will fall back on my old plan - make my own company. Even better, I will sell armour suits. I just need to get my hands on a power source.

🪨

Location: Los Angeles. SI HQ

Date: June 1 2008

Something was going on. I can feel it. Fortunately, I cleaned up all my loose ends and it would be really hard to pin anything on me.

Unfortunately, McCormack still made no progress with the power source, everything else was finished. 

I am running out of time, I hope, for his own sake, he makes a breakthrough.

🪨

Usually, I don't pick up a call from an unknown number. Well, usually, my phone is waiting until I decide whether to pick it up or not, to my surprise, it accepted the call by itself, when I looked at it. Then I heard from the speakerphone a male voice, that was hard to pinpoint origins for, too generic.

"The FBI got a signed order on your arrest," the voice said, without any preamble.

"Who are you?" I asked with a cold in my voice.

"We have some common friends that asked me to help you. Do you want help or not?"

"What is it to you?" I am not stupid to jump someone else's tune, and that was it all about. Give help to someone in need and then milk them until dry.

"We are interested in your latest project and willing to buy, let's say, the first twenty for half price" replied a voice with amusement leaking all the way here.

"If you know as much, you know then, I have some issues with it" I replied cautiously.

"Oh, we might be able to help you with that, but that's not a phone call. Are you in?"

I thought about it all for a few seconds. I need to hear about their help first. If it is legit, I might have a way forward.

🪨

They have quite interesting cyber tools, they can not only break into my well-secured phone but also shut down Stark home security. If I decide to trust their words, of course.

They proposed to storm into Stark's mansion, cut him open and leave with the power source.

Unfortunately for them, I was not stupid. They don't really need me. They need the power source and the suit. As soon as they have both, I find myself with a bullet in my head. I need to play it well if I want to stay alive and on top of it.

We got to Malibu unnoticed. Their tools were able to keep us away from any surveillance system or just hack them to prevent anyone from tracking us.

When we stopped right next to the turn to the Stark's mansion, The Voice man commanded one of his people to proceed with breaking Stark's security system. They played with a futuristically-looking device for a bit and replied:

"Security is down."

"Are you sure you don't want our help with it?" asked The Voice man.

I told a sob story about my need for revenge and I prefer to do it with my own hands. I did not think they bought it, but they let it slide. One more proof that they don't expect me to survive the next 24 hours.

Instead of answering, I took out earplugs and put them on.

"I have my fancy toys too," I said, pulling the paralyzer out and pushing a button.

They all freeze.

"Unfortunately, I don't need your service anymore," I explained and kept it on longer. That was one of the reasons why it never hit the market - too long exposure to it (and it's different for everyone) and subjects experiencing fatal lung failure due to muscle spasms.

I am sure I can make a deal with people who send them to "help" me. I am even willing to sell the first twenty suits for half the price to them. But it will be from a strong position of mine, not a weak one.

When I was sure they were all gone, I went to the front seat and drove the last mile to the mansion.

It is time to take my future into my own hands… in many senses than one.

🪨