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"Pepper!"
The second Tony Stark stepped out of the Devil Fruit shop, his phone was already to his ear. His voice carried that sharp, commanding edge that meant he wasn't asking, he was ordering.
"Prep two thousand kilos of gold. Fast as possible."
"Mr. Stark!" Happy, sitting up front in the driver's seat, nearly jolted as he remembered the finer detail. He twisted halfway in his seat, blurting out, "Not two thousand, two thousand and thirty kilos!"
Tony's expression didn't change, but he gave the kind of smooth nod that suggested he'd been planning to say that anyway. "Right. Pepper, make it two thousand and thirty. Don't lose count."
Happy's shoulders relaxed, relief rushing through him like a sigh he didn't dare let out too loud. "That's perfect, Mr. Stark! Once Pepper gathers the gold, we can finally buy our Fruits!" His tone brimmed with excitement, eyes shining as he turned back to the road.
Tony didn't bother replying. He didn't need to. The faint smirk tugging at his lips said everything; he was just as eager, maybe more so.
"Where to now, sir? The office? Or home?" Happy asked after a beat, his hands steady on the wheel.
Tony leaned back against the seat, voice dry but certain. "The office? Please. I don't need tarot cards to know there's a mountain of headaches waiting for me there. Home, Happy. Take me home."
He said it with the conviction of a man who already knew the battlefield he was avoiding. Thanks to his latest string of reckless moves, Stark Industries was in turmoil, and the board of directors was likely circling like sharks. If he walked into the office right now, he'd be eaten alive, and he wasn't in the mood to be the day's special.
"Got it," Happy said, steering them smoothly around a corner. It was the answer he expected, but still the kind that made him sit up straighter.
They didn't make it far before Tony's phone buzzed again. The screen lit up with a name Tony couldn't ignore, no matter how much he wanted to.
Obadiah Stane.
For once, even Tony hesitated. Obadiah wasn't just another board member; he was family. A mentor. The uncle figure who had been there since Tony was too young to understand what an empire even was.
And that made this call… impossible to dismiss.
Tony let out a quiet sigh and tapped the screen. "Hey, Obie."
"Tony." Obadiah's voice came sharp, irritation wrapped in something heavier, paternal concern. "You didn't show up at the office. You're not at home either. Where exactly are you running off to? You just survived an ambush with your own company's missile, and you think it's smart to play hide-and-seek? Why aren't you in bed recovering?"
"It was just a missile, Obie. Barely singed the Armani," Tony replied, breezy as if they were discussing a coffee stain instead of attempted murder.
"Don't joke about this." Obadiah's tone hardened, every word clipped with steel. "I'm glad you're in one piece, but this—this reckless disappearing act—can't go on. The company bears your name. That means responsibility, Tony. It's not optional."
"Obie, you're absolutely right." Tony leaned back in his seat, a smirk curling in a way only Happy could see in the rearview mirror. "I do need to slow down. In fact, I feel a little faint already. Might need some rest. Preferably horizontal. With a bottle of Scotch."
"Good," Obadiah shot back immediately, seizing on the concession. "Then I'll come by. Tonight."
The line went dead quiet for a heartbeat. Even Tony paused. He could blow off board meetings, brush past press conferences, and dodge reporters like traffic cones, but Obadiah? That was different. The man wasn't just a colleague; he was family, the closest thing to an uncle Tony had ever known. A house visit was only natural, and Tony knew he couldn't spin a decent excuse this time. After all, he had dumped a storm of problems into Obadiah's lap. Meeting face-to-face was inevitable.
"Sure, Obie. Tonight," Tony said at last, though the ease in his tone didn't quite mask the weight behind the words.
But what Tony didn't and couldn't know was that Obadiah's reason for this visit had little to do with corporate headaches. Business was only the smokescreen.
The real reason? Fear.
Stane was rattled in a way he hadn't been for decades. The Ten Rings cell he'd bankrolled to take Tony out, the mercenaries he'd personally lined up with a fat payout, had been annihilated. Not scattered. Erased. The kind of precision cleanup job that left nothing but corpses and questions.
The survivors? Scooped up by an agency Stane had never even heard of until now: the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. The name alone was a mouthful, but the results were terrifying. They had succeeded where the CIA and FBI had failed. And worse, Raza himself had been captured.
That was the nightmare. Because if Raza talked, and Stane knew damn well terrorists had zero loyalty when survival was on the line, his carefully hidden betrayal of Tony Stark would come spilling into the open. His career, reputation, and entire life would be over if word got out.
Stane had scrambled, reaching into every dark corner of his network, calling in old debts, probing for leaks. Yet… nothing. No investigations, no back-channel warnings, no quiet threats.
Just silence.
And that silence was worse than the storm he'd been bracing for.
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*Knock, knock, knock.*
The sharp rapping against wood dragged Obadiah out of his spiral of thoughts. He straightened in his leather chair, tugged his suit jacket into perfect lines, and schooled his features into that familiar mask of calm, unshakable authority. When he spoke, his voice was steady, practiced. "Come in."
The door opened, and a young man in a perfectly pressed suit stepped inside, carrying the kind of urgency that never boded well. "Sir," he began briskly, "the prisoners are still being held by that organization calling itself the Strategic Homeland Division. Their clearance level is extraordinarily high. Even our contacts in the CIA and FBI have no jurisdiction. All we've been able to confirm is that Raza and the others remain in custody. Nothing more."
Obadiah's jaw tightened, the shadow on his face deepening. That meant he still had no idea if Raza had already betrayed him or if the betrayal was only a matter of time.
"Keep watching them," Stane ordered, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. He pressed two thick fingers against his temple, as if to ease the pounding frustration behind his skull. "Every move they make. If there's even a tremor, if someone sneezes out of place, I want to know first."
"Yes, sir." The aide dipped his head, then hesitated, as though weighing whether to share more. "But… regarding Stark's rescue in Afghanistan, I did uncover something unusual."
That caught Obadiah's attention. His heavy brows lifted a fraction. "Go on."
"It wasn't the Division that found Stark," the young man said, lowering his voice to something bordering on conspiratorial. "It was Pepper Potts."
For once, Obadiah Stane froze. His mind, sharp and ruthless as it was, tripped over itself. "Pepper?" The word came out flat, incredulous, as though the sound itself didn't belong in reality.
He had orchestrated every detail of the kidnapping. Every trail covered, every move tracked. Stark's location had been buried under layers of secrecy. Only a handful of mercenaries had known where he was, and those men were either dead or in custody. There was no earthly way Pepper Potts, Tony's assistant, could have cracked that puzzle. The rescue had been too clean, too sudden. Like any rational man, he had assumed that it was the work of S.H.I.E.L.D.
And now? Now he was being told that Pepper Potts had done it?
A humorless laugh slipped from him, sharp and bitter. "That's impossible. You expect me to believe that Tony's secretary somehow accomplished what government agencies couldn't?" His voice dropped an octave, the edge of menace creeping in. "Explain. How?"
The aide's expression didn't shift, but his eyes flickered with the weight of something dangerous. He spoke slowly, deliberately, as if revealing a secret that would change everything.
"Sir… have you ever heard of a Devil Fruit?"
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Next Chapter: The Truth Behind Stark's Rescue
Next Next Chapter: A Deal Forged in Shadows
Next Next Next Chapter: We're the Best Superhero Duo!
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