"The plan has proceeded according to the pre-established flow, Sir," Jarvis's voice was perpetually steady.
"While you and Mr. Tony were holding the press conference, I used encrypted channels to send all the criminal evidence regarding Obadiah, previously collected by Miss Pepper Potts and Mr. Happy Hogan as authorized by you, to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the Central Intelligence Agency, the Securities and Exchange Commission, as well as several senior investigative journalists at The Wall Street Journal and The New York Times."
"Based on network monitoring feedback, two hours ago, immediately after the press conference concluded, Mr. Obadiah was arrested by FBI agents as he attempted to leave the Stark Industries tower. He initially resisted fiercely, claiming commercial sabotage, but after the agents presented irrefutable evidence, he ceased resistance and was forcefully taken away."
As Jarvis spoke, a real-time map was projected from Henry's Armor chest, with a red light blinking on the map.
"Currently, Mr. Obadiah is being temporarily held in Interrogation Room No. 5 at the Los Angeles Police Department's central precinct, awaiting further interrogation and transfer."
"Excellent." Henry looked at the red dot, a cold smile playing on his lips.
"Well done, Jarvis. Now, proceed to the second step of the plan."
"Please instruct, Sir."
"In the name of the Stark Industries Charitable Foundation, immediately donate... hmm, let's say five million dollars to the Los Angeles Police Department's central precinct, earmarked for officer welfare and equipment updates," Henry said in a casual tone.
"Then, use an untraceable number to issue an urgent mission to their dispatch centre, reporting that a heavily armed group, suspected to be terrorists, has been spotted on the Hollywood hills, requiring all available police units to immediately proceed for lockdown and search operations."
"Remember to make the situation sound extremely urgent. I don't want to see a single uniformed police officer in the precinct within the hour, including the janitors."
Jarvis paused for a moment. To an AI composed of logic, this instruction was contradictory and unreasonable.
"Sir, if I may be so bold, this instruction appears illogical," Jarvis's voice contained a hint of confusion.
"We have already provided sufficient evidence for him to be sentenced to life imprisonment. Why proceed with such a complex and illegal operation? The donation and the false emergency cannot inflict any additional legal punishment on him."
"Oh, Jarvis, my dear old friend," Henry chuckled.
"This is why you are merely an artificial intelligence and we are human. You will never understand something called 'social finesse.'"
"'Social finesse'?"
"Exactly. We gave them money, and we gave them a reason to go joyriding and earn overtime. They're happy, and I'm happy. That's a win-win. As for that bald guy, he's just a negligible, perhaps even ignorable, cost in this win-win scenario. You don't need to understand; you just need to do as I say."
"Understood, Sir. Command confirmed." Although Jarvis could not grasp the logic, it faithfully executed the order.
"The donation has been received 0.3 seconds ago. The false alarm has been issued. According to the city's surveillance system, all Los Angeles Police Department central precinct patrol cars were dispatched 35 seconds ago. The precinct is expected to be unguarded within the hour."
"Perfect." Henry nodded in satisfaction.
"Now, let's go pay a visit to our dear Uncle Obie."
As his words faded, he ceased hovering, his body transforming into a black lightning bolt, speeding towards the blinking red dot on the map!
...
Los Angeles Police Department Central Precinct, Interrogation Room No. 5.
Obadiah sat slumped in the cold metal chair, his wrists shackled with cold handcuffs. His bald head was particularly glaring under the harsh, pale interrogation room light.
He couldn't understand how things had come to this. Everything should have gone according to his plan. Tony dies in Afghanistan, Henry is taken care of by Hydra, and he legitimately takes over all of Stark Industries. He would then use the Arc Reactor technology to enter deeper cooperation with the military, and even Hydra, to create his own commercial empire.
Everything was so perfect.
Until those two damned boys, who should have been dead, suddenly returned. They not only returned but had become terrifying.
Especially Henry.
Obadiah still remembered his nonchalant demeanor at the press conference. It was completely contrary to his usual Playboy image.
He knew he was finished. When the FBI agents produced the irrefutable records of his secret dealings with arms dealers, he knew everything was over.
But he was unwilling! He had dedicated half his life to Stark Industries. Why should everything ultimately belong to those two playboys who only knew how to party?
Just as he was filled with resentment, pondering how to use his connections and legal team for a last-ditch struggle, the interrogation room door suddenly creaked open.
Obadiah looked up, assuming it was his lawyer.
But when he saw who it was, the expression on his face was instantly replaced by terror.
The person who entered was not a police officer, nor a lawyer. It was Henry Stark.
He walked in silently, wearing that pure black Armor, and casually closed the door behind him. The interrogation room had no windows, and the sole surveillance camera's screen flickered and turned to static the moment he entered.
"Uncle Obie, good evening." Henry pulled up a chair, crossed his legs, and sat down opposite Obadiah, a smile plastered on his face.
"How's the ambiance here? Are you comfortable? Should I order some takeout for you? I'm guessing you haven't had dinner yet."
"How are you here?" Obadiah's voice trembled with fear. He tried to shrink back but was firmly chained to the chair by the cold handcuffs.
"Where are the police outside? Where are they?"
"The police? Oh, them," Henry said casually.
"I just sponsored them for a large-scale night team-building event on the Hollywood hills. So, for the next hour, it's just the two of us here. We can have a nice little chat."
He leaned forward, his smile still bright, but his eyes were ice cold.
"A chat about how you betrayed my father's trust, how you slowly hollowed out the company, how you colluded with terrorists, and how you planned to kill me and my brother."
"I didn't!" Obadiah shouted, his fear masked by bluster.
"It's all slander! It's a lie fabricated by you two brats to seize power!"
"A lie?" Henry smiled. He extended a finger and tapped it gently on the table.
"Then, was the recording of your phone call with Raza, the leader of the Ten Rings, recorded while you were sleepwalking? Was that huge sum of money you transferred to a secret Swiss bank account for charity? And the files you provided to Hydra? The structural blueprints of the Stark Industries underground lab—were you just drawing for fun?"
With every sentence Henry spoke, Obadiah's face grew paler. When he finished the last sentence, Obadiah's psychological defence was completely shattered. He slumped in the chair, gasping for air, his eyes filled with despair.
"Who are you?" he asked hoarsely, using all his remaining strength.
"You're not Henry Stark, that useless Playboy. Who are you?"
"Me?" Henry stood up, looking down at him. The smile on his face vanished, replaced by indifference.
"I'm the one here to clean house."
He extended his hand and gently placed it on Obadiah's forehead.
"Tony asked me not to make it too messy for you." His voice was soft. "So, I'm going to let you go peacefully."
"Sudden heart attack, died during interrogation. I think that's a decent ending, don't you, Uncle Obie?"