“F*ck?! What’s going on?”
Tony yanked hard on the joystick inside the armor, but the armor remained motionless.
“Jarvis! Run a diagnostic on the malfunction!”
“Sir, strong magnetic field interference detected. The metal shell is constrained by magnetic force, and the power system is malfunctioning,” Jarvis’s voice rang out steadily.
Tony: “…”
He snapped his head up to look at Logan, only to see the guy puffing on a cigar, looking at him leisurely, with his fingers gently spinning in the air.
Following his movement, Tony felt his armor rise slowly out of control, and then, like a spinning top, it leisurely did a circle in the air.
“Logan!!” Tony’s exasperated voice came from inside the armor, carrying a bit of slurring from being spun dizzy, “You f*cking cheated! If you have the guts, don’t use your lousy ability!”
“You didn’t say I couldn’t use my ability.” Logan sneered, loosened his finger, and the armor dropped back to the ground with a loud ‘clang’, swaying and almost falling over.
Tony scrambled out of the armor in a disheveled state, his hair messy like a bird’s nest, his face streaked with black and white, glaring at Logan as if he wanted to eat him alive: “Did you f*cking do that on purpose?! The system I just debugged has all been messed up by you!”
“Who told you to show off.” Logan shrugged with an innocent look, “You told me to try it however I wanted, so I’m just trying it out. Facts have proven that your pile of scrap iron is just a live target when it encounters Magnetic Field Manipulation.”
Tony was choked speechless, yet he had to admit that he was right.
The all-metal shell of mark ii, in front of Magnetic Field Manipulation, was indeed like standing naked in the snow, completely defenseless.
“Damn it, miscalculated,” he cursed, kicking the parts beside his feet, “I’ll have to add an anti-magnetic coating later.”
Logan smiled and didn’t badger him anymore.
He walked over to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and threw Tony a bottle of beer: “Alright, stop agonizing over it. Building the armor is a good thing, let’s celebrate.”
Tony took the beer, pulled it open, and took a big gulp, his anger smoothing out a bit.
The two leaned against the workbench, drinking and chatting while the topic unconsciously drifted to Obadiah Stane.
“Pepper Potts found something else on her end.” Tony pinched the beer bottle with his fingertips, his eyes turning colder, “Obadiah Stane has been contacting several black-market arms dealers recently, as if he’s looking for something. I suspect he’s eyeing my armor.”
“It’s not a suspicion, it’s a certainty,” Logan Howlett took a sip of his drink and said slowly, “The mark i skeleton you left in the cave has most likely fallen into his hands. Although that thing is a bit crude, the principles are all there. Copying it will eventually yield something similar.”
Tony Stark’s expression changed: “Impossible! That place is so remote, how could he possibly find it?”
“What’s impossible about it?” Logan Howlett glanced at him, “The Ten Rings Gang was his people to begin with, and your kidnapping was all orchestrated by him. Could he not know that you were building armor in the cave? After you left, him sending people to pick up the wreckage is only natural, isn’t it?”
It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought of this possibility, just that he didn’t want to think deeply about it.
Obadiah Stane was a veteran who had worked hard alongside his father and could be considered to have watched him grow up.
Even if the other party secretly transferred weapons, he still held onto a last shred of wishful thinking, figuring it might just be greed for money.
But if even the kidnapping was arranged by him…
“Then what do you want to do?” Logan Howlett glanced at him, “Wait until he builds the armor, and then take the evidence to court to sue him?”
“What else?” Tony Stark frowned, “I’m not about to go and kill him directly! No matter what, he is a veteran of Stark Industries. Moving against him without solid evidence will throw the company into chaos.”
“By the time you find evidence, it’ll be too late.” Logan Howlett scoffed, his tone bluntly piercing, “Once he builds the armor, the first person he’s want to kill is you. By then, you’ll be wearing mark ii to fight him, smashing everything up in New York City, and even more people will die.”
He knew the plot too well.
Because Tony Stark hesitated repeatedly and wanted to take regular channels, he gave Obadiah Stane time, not only creating iron monger, but also almost dragging Pepper Potts into it.
Although he won in the end, it caused a huge uproar and even drew out S.H.I.E.L.D..
“Strike first to gain the upper hand, strike last and suffer disaster.” Logan Howlett flicked his ash, his tone flat, “Find an opportunity to off him, fake it as an accident, and settle it once and for all. Saves trouble down the road.”
Tony Stark snapped his head up to look at him, a trace of shock in his eyes: “Are you crazy? That’s murder!”
“When he hired people to kill you, he didn’t hold back.” Logan Howlett shrugged, looking indifferent, “If you can’t bring yourself to do it, I can help you do it. Just treat it as overtime pay.”
“No.” Tony Stark refused without even thinking, his expression serious, “We can’t do that. Even if he’s guilty, he has to go through legal procedures. If we just casually go around killing people, how are we any different from those criminals?”
Logan Howlett looked at him and didn’t speak.
He wasn’t surprised at all.
Tony Stark looked cynical, but he was very proud deep down and had his own bottom line and principles.
Making him carry out assassinations behind the scenes was indeed something he couldn’t bring himself to do.
Even knowing the other party wanted to kill him, he would rather win fair and square.
“Fine, suit yourself.” Logan Howlett didn’t try to persuade him further, raising his glass and taking a sip, “Anyway, I’m not the one getting the short end of the stick. When you get cornered and beaten up at home, don’t cry out for me to save you.”
“Who is crying out for you!” Tony Stark glared at him irritably, “I can solve it myself. Once I build mark iii, whatever he is, he won’t be a match for me.”
Logan Howlett smiled and didn’t refute.
He knew he couldn’t persuade him, and couldn’t be bothered to waste the effort.
Tony Stark’s temperament wouldn’t turn back until he hit a brick wall.
Letting him experience Obadiah Stane’s ruthlessness firsthand would be more effective than saying ten thousand words.
Anyway, with him around, the sky wouldn’t fall.
If Obadiah Stane really dared to court death, he would just solve it along the way; it wasn’t a big deal.
The two drank for a while longer and chatted about the directions for improving the armor.
Tony Stark even specifically asked about magnetic field defense, and Logan Howlett gave him a few suggestions, such as using non-metallic materials for critical parts and adding an electromagnetic shielding layer.
Tony Stark listened very intently, holding a pen and taking notes endlessly on the blueprints, completely losing his previous exasperation.
By the time Logan Howlett left the laboratory, it was already getting dark.
He walked to the underground garage, mounted his harley, and instead of going straight home, he detoured to Maggie’s coffee shop.
The coffee shop wasn’t closed yet; Maggie was inside tidying up the tables and chairs.
The warm yellow light fell on her, making her indescribably gentle.
Logan Howlett leaned against the doorway and watched for a while before pushing the door open and going in.
“Off work?” Maggie looked up and saw him, smiling, “How do you have time to come over today? Didn’t you say you were going to take a good rest on your day off?”
“Got press-ganged by the boss.” Logan Howlett walked over and casually helped her stack the chairs, “What do you want to eat tonight? My treat.”
“Just something casual.” Maggie wiped her hands, walked up to him, suddenly leaned in a bit closer, and wrinkled her nose, “Why is there perfume on you? Women’s perfume.”
Logan Howlett: “…”
He cleared his throat, his expression unchanged: “Ran into a female client on the way and chatted for a couple of minutes.”
Maggie glanced at him sideways, not calling him out, and just gave a soft hum: “Is that so? That female client has quite good taste.”
Logan Howlett rubbed his nose and didn’t dare reply.
Fortunately, Maggie didn’t probe further, picked up her jacket and bag, and hooked her arm through his: “Let’s go, let’s go to that Chinese restaurant in Chinatown. I want to eat Kung Pao chicken.”
“Alright, your call.” Logan Howlett let out a sigh of relief and smiled, rumpling her hair.