"Young master, I've scanned him — Spider-Man's not wearing a recording device. You can speak freely now!"
God dammit, that's old man Jarvis... And really, Tony — measuring a gentleman with a scoundrel's ruler. Or is it that you swiped my Spider-Man title and now your conscience is itching? You actually think I'd trick words out of you. Madam President here is pure and upright, thank you — being Spider-Man was all about punishing evil and promoting good — (read: raking in Influence Points) — those empty titles mean nothing to me!
Tony, with no clue his little scheme had already been sniffed out by the Spider-Man across from him, gave two light coughs. "All right. Spider-Man — good evening! I don't suppose I need to introduce myself. Yes, the reason I came tonight is this: I've decided to buy your Spider-Man IP. Name your price."
"Mr. Big Turd, don't you think you've got some nerve?" Maya asked flatly. "What was that press conference this morning about?"
"Ahem. That, well — mostly it was to draw you out. You have no idea. I've had people waiting for you every night for days, and you just wouldn't show. Then you ran off to Queens. I had no choice — I had to resort to a low move!" Tony explained.
Maya listened to his weaseling and didn't so much as flare up. Instead she said, all righteous solemnity, "I put on the Spider-Man mask and appeared in New York, and never once did I think of profiting from it. My purpose is to help the innocent people of this city. If you can do it better — then what does it matter if I hand the name Spider-Man over to you?"
Tony jolted where he stood, his very soul rocked as never before. He'd never met anyone so pure, so noble. Even the "old buddy" Howard was always going on about — Captain America, Steve Rogers — seemed like nothing much by comparison.
Just as his voice quavered and he opened his mouth to sing a few praises, Spider-Man spoke again. "That said — if you insist on some compensation, I couldn't let your gesture go to waste. Otherwise you'd only feel guilty and unsettled later. Ah, well. For your peace of mind, I'll just have to swallow my principles and accept your money. Go on, name it. Too much, and I won't take it, mind."
"Uh... ahem..."
So you really are a kindred spirit, Spider-Man! We're both geniuses, both equally shameless — this is a meeting of masters, a match of true equals!
So much for outshining Captain America. An illusion. All an illusion!
Tony, the shrewd businessman fully restored, flipped up his Spider-Man mask, took a few deep breaths, and said, "For your Spider-Man name — $20 million. How's that?"
"What? How much?" Even Maya couldn't hold it in — the cry burst right out of her.
Tony had raked in tens of billions off the Spider-Man name already, and he assumed the Spider-Man across from him knew his company stock had spiked — figured he was balking at a lowball. So he explained, "$20 million isn't small. It's all cash, liquid assets! I've got money, sure, but a lot of it's tied up in fixed holdings. Freeing this much up on short notice is already plenty!"
"Mm, ahem, Mr. Big Turd — since that's the case, I'll be magnanimous and accept!" Maya said, forcing down the thrill in her chest. "Only, how are you paying me?"
Tony pulled a stack of documents from his pant leg. "Here — U.S. government bonds, all of them bearer bonds, payable on presentation. Every bank and trust institution in the world accepts them. Five hundred thousand a piece — face value not too big, not too small — forty of them in all!"
That said, Tony handed the manila envelope straight over. He had the Spider-Man name locked in now; he wasn't worried about the other guy reneging. He'd recorded the whole thing on his end. As long as Spider-Man took the goods, he wasn't afraid of any lawsuit.
Maya took the envelope and, without even checking it, said, "I trust the Stark family's good name. From here on, Tony Stark is Spider-Man!"
How was Tony to know Maya had a sensing ability? He genuinely believed his reputation was sterling, and beamed. "Ah, ah — no, no! You can actually still go out and fight evil under the Spider-Man name! I bought the Spider-Man title precisely to help more people. I want to spread the just spirit of the superhero, I want to make every man a dragon in this world, I want to—"
Oh for — you really think this is a press conference? Are you ever going to stop?
Madam President genuinely could not take another second of Tony's shamelessness. She cut him off. "Mr. Big Turd, is there anything else? I'm leaving!"
Tony took the interruption without a hint of anger and blocked her path. "Wait — I want to buy your neural-pulse pistol too."
Seeing Maya's blank face — like she had no idea what he meant — Tony pointed at the pistol at her waist. "This thing! Truth is, I can build it myself. I'm just stuck on miniaturizing it. I have to say, the concept is ingenious — instant effect the moment it hits the enemy, and yet it never actually harms the body."
Neural-pulse pistol? Big Turd, the things you dream up, the lengths you go to — you've actually got a working prototype now?!
Realizing Tony had, once again, wandered clean into a ditch of his own making, Maya hesitated a long moment, then said, sincerely, "Mr. Big Turd — even if I gave you the gun, you couldn't copy it. Take my advice and just go home and do your own research."
That was an honest-to-god kindness. She'd already fleeced Tony for $20 million; she really couldn't bring herself to also fob off the prop at her waist and swindle the poor kid.
But Tony bristled. "What do you mean, you give it to me and I still can't copy it? You look down on me that much? And it isn't copying — I'm just borrowing it for reference. My new product will absolutely be better than yours!"
"Uh — you really want it? I'll say this up front: my pistol has an anti-tamper device. Crack it open and it might just blow — I don't want to hurt—"
Before Maya could finish, Tony cut in. "That's none of your concern. You just sell it to me. The rest is my problem!"
Looking at the sheer arrogance on Tony's face, Madam President figured there was no point talking him out of it. "Fine. Then the price is—"
"The price won't shortchange you. Five million. How's that?" Tony said, grandly.
Damn — so this is what money smells like? I was about to say forget the price. But you're this generous — I really can't turn this down.
Seeing Maya go quiet, Tony misread it again and explained, "The DoD's deposit wasn't that big to begin with, and the price I'm giving you is already over 15% of the profit. Your typical R&D staffer gets a patent royalty of 0.5% to 2%. Even I don't clear more than 5%. It's just that yours is a one-and-done sale, so I'm padding it a bit."
(Author's note: Tony draws a salary working at his own company — that's the normal state of things. It's the CEOs who don't take a salary who are the weird ones.)
Maya let out a soft sigh. "Fine! More bonds?"
"Uh — no, hang on a sec!"
Tony turned aside, pressed his earpiece, and murmured, "Happy, Happy — it's going perfectly. Bring the case over now!"
"What about the people around us? Should we jump him partway and grab the money back?" Happy asked.
Tony spun to look — Spider-Man hadn't followed, and they were a good ten-plus meters apart. No matter how sharp his hearing, he couldn't have caught the conversation.
Reassured, Tony cursed low. "Are you a pig-head? Do I need this pocket change? Send everyone home and get over here, now!"
That settled, Tony asked, "Jarvis — everything I had you prepare, is it all set?"