Chapter 28

The past week had been a blur of work. After sending the blueprints for the rescue drones and other tech to Pepper, Tony had thrown himself headlong into upgrading the suit. The Mark II was starting to take shape—sleeker, more efficient, and infinitely more advanced than its predecessor.

Meanwhile, Stephen had spent most of his time with the books the Ancient One had lent him, diving into the mystical healing arts with a focus and determination Tony couldn't help but respect. When Stephen wasn't reading or meditating, he acted as an unyielding force of discipline, dragging Tony away from his work at regular intervals to make sure he ate, slept, and didn't push himself to the brink of collapse.

It wasn't easy, of course. Tony resisted every step of the way, grumbling and complaining like a child being forced to go to bed. But Stephen, with his infinite patience and dry wit, always managed to win out in the end.

And then there were the injuries.

The first time Tony tested a piece of the suit—a prototype repulsor, to be exact—it backfired spectacularly, leaving him with a nasty burn on his forearm. Stephen had sighed in exasperation, muttering something about "reckless billionaires," before pulling out his magic to heal the wound.

The healing process had been fascinating for Tony to watch, though Stephen had remained characteristically tight-lipped about the specifics of how it worked. All he had said was, "It's not as simple as it looks," before returning to his books.

It had been exactly nine days since the meeting with Rhodey when Pepper appeared in the lab, looking both exasperated and determined.

Stephen was perched on a stool near one of the workbenches, a book open in front of him. The red cloak—still disguised as a bandana—hovered lazily around him, occasionally flipping pages as if it were reading along. Tony, meanwhile, was standing in the center of the lab, fiddling with a gauntlet for the Mark II. The faint hum of energy filled the air as he adjusted the stabilizer, his focus laser-sharp.

The sound of heels clicking on the lab's polished floor made Stephen glance up from his book. Pepper Potts descended the spiral staircase, carrying a wrapped box in one hand and a cup of something steaming in the other. She stopped at the base of the stairs, her sharp eyes scanning the room before landing on Tony.

"Tony," she called, her tone clipped. "Have you been ignoring the intercom again?"

Tony didn't look up, still focused on the gauntlet. "Nope. Heard it. Everything's fine."

Pepper frowned, walking closer. "If you heard it, why didn't you respond?"

Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Because I'm busy, Pep. You know how it is."

Stephen smirked faintly, closing his book. "He's been down here for hours. You might as well be talking to a wall."

"Thanks for the support, Steph," Tony said dryly, still not looking up.

Pepper sighed, setting the wrapped box and the cup on a nearby workbench. "Obadiah's upstairs."

"Great!" Tony said, his tone overly cheerful.

Pepper's eyes narrowed slightly. "What would you like me to tell him?"

Tony finally glanced up, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Tell him… great. I'll be right up."

Pepper raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Are you actually going to come upstairs, or is this another one of your stalling tactics?"

"I'll be there," Tony said, turning back to the gauntlet. "Just give me a few minutes."

Pepper sighed again but didn't move. Her gaze shifted to the gauntlet in Tony's hand, her brow furrowing. "I thought you said you were done making weapons."

Tony glanced at her, his smirk widening. "It's not a weapon. This is a flight stabilizer. Completely harmless."

As if on cue, the stabilizer suddenly fired, sending a burst of energy shooting across the room. The force flung Tony backwards, and he landed unceremoniously on the floor with a loud crash.

Pepper let out a startled gasp, her hand flying to her chest. "Tony!"

Stephen let out an exasperated sigh, hopping down from his stool and padding over to where Tony lay sprawled on the floor. "Completely harmless, you said?"

Tony groaned, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head. "I didn't expect that."

"Clearly," Stephen muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He glanced at Pepper, who looked torn between concern and annoyance. "Perhaps you should take this as a sign to go upstairs and deal with Obadiah before you injure yourself further."

Tony waved a hand dismissively, his smirk returning. "Relax, Steph. I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Pepper said sharply, crossing her arms. "You're a mess. And if you don't get up there soon, Obadiah's going to come down here himself."

Tony sighed, climbing to his feet and brushing himself off. "Alright, alright. I'm going. Don't get your skirt in a twist."

Pepper gave him a pointed look. "You've got five minutes."

As she turned to leave, Stephen glanced at Tony, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Be careful with him," he said quietly.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Stephen didn't answer immediately. Instead, he put the book on the stool he previously was sitting and followed Tony. "Just… don't let your guard down, Anthony."

Tony frowned but didn't press further. He glanced at the gauntlet in his hand, then at the spiral staircase Pepper had just disappeared up.

"Great," he muttered to himself. "Let's go see what dear old Obie wants, Steph."

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May 12th - 2009

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Stephen trailed after Tony as he ascended the stairs to the mansion's living room, his paws silent against the steps. Even in his feline form, Stephen could sense Tony's tension. His shoulders were stiff, his steps quick and deliberate. It wasn't just that Obadiah was waiting upstairs—it was the weight of the week's work, the frustration of Rhodey's hesitation, and now this. Tony wasn't the type to show it outright, but Stephen had come to recognize the subtle signs of stress: the way his fingers twitched slightly as they brushed the railing, the tightness in his jaw.

As they reached the top of the stairs, the faint melody of piano keys drifted through the air. Obadiah was seated at the grand piano in the corner of the living room, his broad frame hunched slightly as his fingers danced over the keys. Across the room, Pepper was perched on the couch, her laptop open and her eyes scanning the screen. She glanced up as Tony entered, her sharp gaze flicking briefly to Stephen, who padded silently into the room and curled himself on the armrest of the couch.

In front of him, on the small table, there was a pizza box. Tony's eyes briefly landed on it before they returned to Obadiah's for, who looked up from the piano, his face breaking into a wide grin. "Ah, there he is! The man of the hour. How's my favorite genius holding up?"

Tony smirked faintly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Still genius-ing, Obie. You know how it is. How'd the meeting go?"

Obadiah's fingers slowed on the keys, the cheerful melody tapering off into a soft, aimless rhythm. "Well, I can't say it was smooth sailing," he admitted, rising from the piano bench. "But we're managing."

Stephen's ears twitched. Managing? That wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement.

Tony arched an eyebrow, leaning casually against the back of the couch. "Managing doesn't sound good. What's the problem now?"

Obadiah sighed, moving toward Tony with slow, deliberate steps. "The board is concerned, Tony. They're saying you're suffering from post-traumatic stress, and they're using it to justify an injunction."

Tony stiffened slightly, his smirk slipping just a fraction. "An injunction?"

"They want to lock you out," Obadiah said simply, as though discussing the weather.

Tony blinked, his jaw tightening. "Why? Because the stocks dipped 40 points? We knew that was gonna happen."

Pepper, still typing on her laptop, glanced up. "Fifty-six and a half, actually."

Tony shot her a brief, incredulous look before turning back to Obadiah. "Doesn't matter. We own the controlling interest in the company."

Obadiah let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Tony, the board has rights, too. They're arguing that your… new direction isn't in the company's best interest."

Stephen's eyes narrowed slightly, his tail flicking. He could see Tony's irritation building—the slight tightening of his fists, the way his weight shifted from one foot to the other—but he also noticed something in Obadiah's tone. It was too casual, too measured.

"New direction," Tony repeated, his voice sharp. "You mean accountability? Responsibility? Because last I checked, that's a good thing."

Obadiah raised a hand, his tone placating. "Of course it is. But the board doesn't see it that way. They want results, Tony. Something tangible to show them that this new direction isn't just talk."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "I gave them results. Pepper sent you the blueprints last week—rescue drones, scanners, all that non-lethal tech you've been asking for. What happened to those?"

There was a faint flicker in Obadiah's expression—so brief that most wouldn't have noticed it. But Stephen, with his centuries of learning how to read people, did. It was the slight tightening around his eyes, the faint hesitation before he spoke.

"They're still being reviewed," Obadiah said smoothly. "These things take time, Tony. The engineers are analyzing them, but until they're fully vetted, the board's not going to give the green light."

Stephen's ears flattened slightly. There it was again—that subtle deflection. The way Obadiah shifted the focus away from the blueprints, keeping the conversation firmly anchored in the board's distrust of Tony.

Pepper glanced up from her laptop, her brow furrowing. "The engineers? I thought those blueprints were being sent directly to the shareholders for review."

Obadiah's grin didn't falter, but there was a faint edge to his tone as he replied, "It's standard procedure, Pepper. The engineers need to ensure everything's viable before we present it to the shareholders. You know how this works."

Stephen's tail flicked sharply. He's stalling.

Tony, for all his sharp instincts, seemed too frustrated to notice the nuance. He threw up his hands, his voice rising slightly. "Great. So the board thinks I'm crazy, and the blueprints are stuck in bureaucratic limbo. This is fantastic."

Obadiah clapped him on the shoulder, his grin widening. "Come on, Tony. It's not the end of the world. These things take time. You just need to be patient."

Stephen let out a faint huff, drawing Obadiah's attention for the first time.

"And the cat," Obadiah said, his tone faintly amused. "Still following you around, huh?"

Stephen stared at him evenly, his blue eyes unblinking.

"He's my emotional support animal," Tony quipped, his smirk returning faintly.

Obadiah chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, good. You could use the support." He stepped back, his tone shifting to something more jovial. "Anyway, Tony, I'm doing everything I can to keep the board in check. But you've gotta give me something to work with. Let me send the blueprints of what you're working now to the boys in New York. Let them draw up some specs—"

"No," Tony said firmly, cutting him off. "Those blueprints stay with me."

Obadiah raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. It's your call."

But Stephen could see the faint flicker of irritation in Obadiah's eyes, the way his smile tightened just slightly.

Tony grabbed the pizza box from the table, his movements sharp. "I'll be in the shop."

Obadiah watched him go, his expression unreadable.

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Stephen followed Tony back to the lab, his sharp eyes fixed on the billionaire's tense shoulders. As soon as they reached the workbench, Tony set the pizza box down with a loud thud, his hands gripping the edges of the table.

"He's stalling," Stephen said quietly.

Tony glanced at him, his brow furrowing. "What?"

"Obadiah," Stephen said, his tone calm but firm. "He's deliberately slowing the process. He doesn't want the shareholders to see those blueprints."

Tony frowned, his mind racing. "Why would he do that?"

Stephen's eyes narrowed. "That's what you need to figure out."

Tony exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Fantastic. Just what I needed—more corporate BS."

Stephen hopped onto the workbench, his tail curling around his paws. "Keep an eye on him, Anthony. He's hiding something."

Tony didn't respond immediately, his gaze drifting to the holographic display of the Mark II. Whatever Obadiah was hiding, Stephen knew one thing: he wasn't going to wait for it to blow up in Tony's face.

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