Stark Industries Tower, 43rd Floor Board Executive Suite.
Brilliant golden sunlight poured into the spacious room like leaf gold.
“The second-generation glider over at Oscorp—the basic flight platform is already complete,” Stane said in a deliberate voice, sitting at the head of the left side of the table.
There were only a handful of people present.
“Modular weapon mounts, low-altitude urban penetration capabilities, plus that ‘adaptive stealth coating’ they love to brag about.
Though I suspect they borrowed some of our publicly available satellite coating technology, they’ve already completed secondary testing with the government.
The military’s massive contract is about to land.
We need to make a decision quickly.” “Sub-field acquisitions like this carry too much risk,” objected William Gibbs, Director of Technical Security and Confidentiality.
“We need Tony’s authority—and his mind.” “Come on, man.
Anyone with eyes can see this is a guaranteed moneymaker,” Stane tapped his steel pen lightly against the tabletop.
“Tony’s fate is completely unknown right now.
Is the entire company supposed to sit on its hands waiting for him to finish hooking up with another bimbo before coming back to conduct the orchestra?” “I reserve my opinion,” William said, spreading his hands.
Several others echoed his sentiment.
*Tsk.* Stane’s eyelids drooped slightly.
As a veteran businessman, he was too skilled to let his dissatisfaction show on his face, though the glare reflected from the projection screen cast a dark, sinister edge across his features.
Just then, his phone vibrated.
Swiveling his chair away, he pulled out his satellite phone.
The moment he saw the photo displayed on the screen, his eyes narrowed, his lips curled into a smile, and his entire posture relaxed.
“Gentlemen, perhaps we need to take a more realistic view of capitalism,” he turned back around, his tone hardening as he was the first to raise a hand.
“The market won’t wait for us.
You’re either at the table eating the lion’s share, or you’re a retail investor picking up crumbs—without even knowing when you’ll be kicked out of the game.” “I vote in favor of collaborating with Oscorp.” This sudden move caught the others by surprise.
William had clearly voiced his objection, yet Stane remained so resolute.
With his years of corporate cunning, he couldn’t possibly misread the room.
After all, Tony hadn’t been confirmed dead yet.
But he had just received a message…
Could it be…?
So this was a signal.
The Oscorp deal was a signal, telling them it was time to pick a side.
“I agree,” Chief Financial Officer Victoria was the first to raise her hand.
“Very good,” Stane smiled.
“I agree as well.” “Agree.” “Opposed.” “Abstain.” One by one, the board members voiced their positions.
Though a few remained on the fence, Stane knew he had won.
“Then it’s settled.
If Tony comes back, I’ll explain it to him personally.” Stane tossed his pen aside, pushed back his chair, and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling glass wall.
Looking down at the city skyline, ambition surged in his eyes, and he sneered in his heart: *If he even makes it back.* *** At the airfield, heatwaves shivered above the horizon as a pickup truck rolled slowly toward the tarmac.
An unmarked transport helicopter sat parked ahead, where several men were already waiting.
*Screech!* The truck ground to a halt.
Green rolled down the window, blasting high-octane rock music from inside the cab.
In the passenger seat, Tony slumped sideways, a hood pulled over his head.
“Hey, Mac, how was the hunt?” The leader of the group, a man wearing an earring, stepped forward.
“Not a single survivor,” Green replied.
“You can go collect your Stark Industries local specialties now.” Before coming here, Green had struck a deal with another local warlord: the warlord got to take over the Ten Rings’ outpost, and in exchange, supplied Green with cash and return transportation.
“Good.
Procedurally, I still need to confirm total confirmation of death, but hey, we’re friends.” The man snapped his fingers, and a henchman behind him brought over a briefcase.
“Yeah, friends.” Green pushed open the door and took the briefcase.
“Mmph…
mmph…” In the back of the truck, Ho Yinsen was tied up tight, squirming like a maggot.
“Help me load these two up,” Green gestured toward Ho Yinsen and Tony.
“No problem.” The man waved a hand, and his henchmen quickly hoisted the two into the helicopter’s cabin.
“Well then, goodbye, friend,” the man said.
“See you around, friend,” Green replied with a smile, turning to board the helicopter.
Behind him, the man watched Green’s back, deep dread filling his eyes.
*Get out of here.
Just leave already!* How could he not have checked the Ten Rings’ stronghold?
From the moment this guy went in to the end of the slaughter, it took less than five minutes.
He knew full well how heavy the firepower in that camp was.
You couldn’t slaughter chickens that fast, let alone people.
A monster like this needed to get as far away as possible.
The helicopter blades began to whirl, churning up gusts of wind as the aircraft slowly lifted off.
Noticing Green looking back at him, the man quickly flashed a bright smile and waved goodbye.
Only when the helicopter shrank to a speck on the horizon did he rub his stiff, aching cheeks.
He hadn’t smiled like that in so long his face was cramping.
But facing a monster like that, pretending to be a polite, civilized man was his only option.
“What a great friend,” Green remarked, sitting in the cabin.
He opened the briefcase and pulled a miniature tracking chip out from beneath the black fabric lining.
“It’s fine.
I forgive you.” With a flick of his fingers, he crushed the chip into pieces and held his hand outside the cabin.
The powerful slipstream instantly blew the debris away without a trace.
He hadn’t mentioned a word about that prototype suit.
The warlord would likely discover the leftover parts eventually, but it would take time to figure out what those pieces actually built.
After all, when Green had entered the cave, Tony Stark’s armor hadn’t been assembled yet.
That piece of intel could be flipped and resold through several middleman channels.
“Mmph…
mmph…” Ho Yinsen made muffled noises through the rag stuffed in his mouth.
Green glanced over, snapped the briefcase shut, leaned forward, and ripped the gag out of his mouth.
“Where on earth are you taking us?!” Ho Yinsen yelled.
“I told you, I’m bringing him back.
As for how we get there, that doesn’t matter,” Green leaned back against his seat, hooking a finger around his seatbelt.
He tilted his head back, eyeing Ho Yinsen from the corner of his eye.
“As for you, you should thank me for dragging you along.
After all, you’re pretty useless to me.” Ho Yinsen’s breath caught, fine beads of sweat breaking out on his balding forehead.
So he was really just an extra tagalong.
The guy’s only target was Tony.
*Well, aren’t I the fool.* “Then…
what do you plan to do with me?” he asked hesitantly.
“Two options,” Green held up two fingers.
“First, I drop you at the border and hand you a stack of cash.
With your skills, setting up a fake identity won’t be hard.
Go wherever you want.
“Second, stay with us.
Knowing Tony Stark’s personality, you’ll get the best treatment in the world.
Whatever research you want to do, he’ll probably fund it without limit.
But you’ll also become his weakness.
“Ew!
Saying that out loud gives me goosebumps.” Green pulled a gagging face.
“I choose the first option,” Ho Yinsen said solemnly.
“Oh.” “…Wait, that’s it?
You’re not going to ask me why?” Ho Yinsen blinked in surprise.
“None of my business.” Green rested his hands behind his head and closed his eyes to relax.
Ho Yinsen opened his mouth, then closed it, his urge to elaborate instantly vanishing.
*Is this guy actually one of the good guys?* he muttered in his mind, though he certainly didn’t dare say it aloud.
After all, he wasn’t sure if saying that would result in the man casually tossing him out of the helicopter.