Tony Stark sauntered up like he owned the oxygen in the room — which, given his net worth, wasn't the craziest assumption.
Behind him stood a big man with glossy hair and hawklike eyes: Happy Hogan, Stark's driver and bodyguard. To think the man would keep the muscles but lose all the hair later — such was the curse of time.
"Arthur Hayes," Tony said, swirling his whiskey. "The ghost behind Phoenix Group. I'm impressed - most people here have no idea you even exist."
"That's by design," Arthur replied evenly. "I find it easier to work without constant attention."
"Smart move," Tony said with a half-smile. "Let your poster boy CEO handle the cameras while you pull the strings." He took a sip. "Though I have to say, your profile made for fascinating reading. No degree, no credentials — yet you somehow turned, what, half a billion this year?"
"Closer to a billion," Arthur corrected.
"Right. A billion." Tony's smile sharpened. "All riding the internet bubble. Bold strategy. Risky. Maybe suicidal. But bold."
"Some might say the same about a thirty-year-old running a weapons empire," Arthur answered smoothly. "We all have our risks."
Tony's eyebrow twitched — the first genuine flicker of interest. "Touché. I thought you'd be another boring investor. How old are you anyway? You look young."
"Twenty-two."
"Twenty-two." Tony barked a laugh. "In some countries, you can't even drink yet, and here you are gambling millions on internet stocks."
"When you're twenty-two, you can afford to take risks," Arthur said with a slight smile. "Less to lose. More time to recover if it all goes wrong."
"Or more time to regret monumentally stupid decisions," Tony quipped, gesturing with his glass. "Though I'll admit, a billion at your age is either genius or the most spectacular luck I've ever seen. Jury's still out on which."
"Why not both?"
Tony grinned. "I like you. You're not boring." He glanced at Happy. "See? This is what ambition looks like. Not whatever those trust-fund fossils over there are doing."
Happy grunted, still scanning the room for threats.
Arthur studied them both. "So what brings Tony Stark to find me? I figured you'd be drunk and tangled in a supermodel by now."
"I should be, shouldn't I?" Tony said dryly. "And here I am, talking to a kid who looks like he hasn't partied since birth."
"Your kind of fun's overrated," Arthur said. "You drink, you dance, you sleep with someone whose name you'll forget by sunrise — and wake up with a hangover that makes you question every life choice."
"You really are no fun." Tony sighed dramatically. "Fine. Business it is. Uncle Obadiah insisted I talk to you. Stark Industries is offering Phoenix Group a seat on the board. One of our major shareholders is cashing out. He wants you in."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Stark Industries needs my money?"
"Don't flatter yourself," Tony said smoothly. "We don't need it. But you're… clean. No scandals, no politics. Obie says you invest, disappear, and let the adults handle things. Perfect candidate."
"Flattering," Arthur said. "But Stark Industries isn't where I want to park capital."
Tony's smirk faltered for a beat. "Your loss. We're on the rocket, Hayes. You're standing on the launchpad watching."
"I've already ridden higher," Arthur replied. "My recent exits in internet holdings netted returns even you'd blink at."
Tony's eyes narrowed. "You're all-in on the bubble. And when it pops — and it will — you'll be left holding vapor. Stark's offering you a lifeboat."
"I don't need one," Arthur said quietly. "And frankly, I don't like your business model."
Tony laughed sharply. "Oh, the moral high ground. From the man who made his fortune manipulating markets and bankrupting funds?"
"I don't manipulate markets," Arthur corrected. "Others do. I just recognize potential when I see it. You, on the other hand, sell death."
Tony's face hardened. "I sell deterrence. To legitimate governments. Allies. Democracies. My weapons keep the peace."
"Do they?" Arthur asked, voice calm. "Because last I checked, your missiles ended up in Sokovia - both sides. Your smart bombs were used in Africa by warlords who bought them off the black market. Your tech doesn't stay in the hands you intend it for, Tony. It never has."
"That's not my problem," Tony snapped. "I build the best. If someone steals it or resells it, that's on them."
Tony's voice carried the confidence of a man who'd made that argument countless times. "We fulfill legal contracts. If governments can't secure their own armories, that's not on Stark Industries."
Arthur smiled faintly. "A convenient philosophy. I'm sure it helps you sleep at night."
"I sleep great, thanks," Tony shot back, leaning on the bar. "Look, I get it. You want to be the moral billionaire. But ethics don't fund R&D. Weapons do. Weapons keep the world safe."
"You could pivot," Arthur said. "You've got AI research years ahead of anyone else. Robotics that could change manufacturing. Clean energy that could power cities. Why tie your legacy to missiles when you could power the future?"
For a brief moment, Tony looked thoughtful — then the mask came back down.
"Sentimental nonsense," he said flatly. "Why am I even debating this with someone who couldn't get into MIT?"
"MIT's loss," Arthur said without missing a beat. "My life's worked out fine. Better, even, than someone trapped in his father's shadow."
Tony straightened. "You know what your problem is, Hayes? You're a kid who's had a lucky streak, thinking you're clever because the market hasn't slapped you yet. When that bubble pops, you'll realize you were never as smart as you thought."
"And your problem, Stark," Arthur replied, voice level, "is that you're so insulated you don't see the bodies you're standing on. One day, they'll catch up. Usually when you least expect it."
Tony's jaw tightened. "Is that a threat?"
"It's an observation," Arthur said. "You have no idea how many enemies you've made. How many people have lost family because of missiles with your name on it. One day, they'll find you."
They stared each other down, the social small talk stripped away. Happy shifted slightly, hand moving toward his boss.
Arthur tilted his head. "Just one bodyguard, Stark? Lax security for a man with so many enemies."
"I don't need bodyguards," Tony said. "Nobody dares touch me. I'm the U.S. government's golden boy. Happy's just here to stop people like you from spiking my drink."
Happy gave Arthur an intimidating look — or tried to. To Arthur, remembering the older, balder, kinder version of the man, it was almost endearing.
Arthur smiled faintly. "Good for you. Though I doubt he could handle a real threat."
Happy bristled. "I could take you, pretty boy. You don't look like you've lifted anything heavier than a book."
"I've been to the gym," Arthur said mildly. "Unlike some people who spend their evenings drinking themselves into a stupor."
Happy stepped forward, fists clenched. "You looking for a fight, pretty boy?"
Arthur's hands moved in a blur — precise, controlled. Three pressure strikes.
Happy gasped, knees giving out as pain seized his muscles. He dropped to one knee, stunned.
"Happy!" Tony turned, alarmed. "What the hell did you do to him?"
"Nothing permanent," Arthur said. "Just taught him a lesson: never judge a book by its cover. He'll be fine in a few minutes."
Tony helped Happy up, shooting Arthur a look that was equal parts anger and grudging respect.
Arthur straightened his cuff. "You should try exercising too, Stark. Research says it sharpens the mind. Maybe then you'll be smart enough to heed my advice."
Tony opened his mouth, then closed it. For the first time, a name and a cheque and an ego didn't carry the room.
He exhaled sharply. "You're a pain in the ass, Hayes."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Arthur said. "This was fun. We should do it again."
"Don't flatter yourself." Tony smirked, regaining composure. "Goodbye — and brace for payback. But later. I've got a speech and a few women to charm."
As Tony strode off — Happy limping but still glaring — Arthur watched them go.
He hadn't planned this. He'd come only to observe.
But Tony's arrogance — and the memory it stirred of meeting the Maximoffs — had drawn him in.
Maybe he'd have to keep an eye on Stark. The brightest mind in this world could become his most dangerous enemy, given the right nudge. And Arthur had just given him one.
He wasn't worried about himself. Just the ripples. The Phoenix Group might need more watching.
Let's hope you don't go too far, Stark, Arthur thought. I enjoy challenges — within limits.
He already knew the perfect curse if Tony crossed the line — a small adjustment that would make his playboy lifestyle... purely theoretical.
Arthur turned toward the door. His work here felt done, only to find someone blocking his path.
Not a man in a tailored suit. This one wore a rumpled blazer over a wrinkled shirt, hair slightly unkempt, eyes burning with the feverish energy of someone who'd just had a breakthrough.
Aldrich Killian. Founder of A.I.M. Still years away from his future mistakes.
"Mr. Hayes," Killian said breathlessly. "I couldn't help overhearing your talk with Stark. It's an honor to meet you. I've been trying to reach Phoenix Group for months."
Arthur's expression cooled. "Eavesdropping isn't a great way to start a business relationship."
Killian flushed but didn't back down. "I know. But when I heard what you said about clean energy—about using technology to heal instead of harm—I had to speak with you." He hesitated, then added, "I run a small biotech think tank called A.I.M. We're privately funded, focused on helping people recover from trauma and disabilities. We track promising university research and try to back projects that could genuinely change lives."
Arthur studied him for a long moment. Beneath the polished words, he saw it—the raw idealism, the spark of obsession, and the quiet desperation for validation. This wasn't the man who would one day become a terrorist. Not yet.
Arthur wasn't thrilled by Extremis or whatever Maya Hansen was tinkering with. Magic solved certain problems quicker and more cleanly. But this — this could be useful to ordinary people if it worked.
Also his one intervention could change fates. One less villain. One more scientist doing good.
"You're optimistic," Arthur said quietly. "And you have drive."
Killian blinked, caught off guard by the faint note of approval.
"I've seen it before." Arthur reached into his jacket and produced a simple black card — no logo, just a phone number and an address. "Come to me in three days. Bring your data and your intentions. If I see something worth supporting, we'll talk."
Killian took the card as if it were sacred. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Arthur replied. "Let's see your work first. And how you handle the rest of tonight."
Killian frowned slightly. "What do you mean, sir?"
Arthur's eyes flicked toward the party. "Just a warning: if Stark says he'll meet you somewhere in a few minutes, don't wait. He won't come."
Killian looked confused, but Arthur was already walking away, his focus elsewhere.
He was halfway to the exit when a whisper brushed across his mind—soft, urgent, and familiar.
Master!
Winky's voice. Crystal clear despite the distance. Their bond had evolved with his power, strong enough for thought alone to cross countries.
Master, Ari needs help! Ari hurt bad!
Arthur's expression changed.
He cast one last glance toward Tony — now stepping onto the stage to give his speech — and vanished without a sound.
The party carried on. The century turned.