Tony Stark's Workshop, Malibu
The air in the workshop was a chaotic symphony of buzzing electricity, the hiss of hydraulics, and the low thrum of the giant arc reactor that powered the mansion. Blueprints and holographic schematics littered every surface, a testament to a mind that hadn't slept. Tony Stark, his face illuminated by the glow of a welding torch, worked with a frantic, obsessive focus. A tangle of wires and circuits snaked from a device on his workbench to the glowing circle in his chest.
Pepper Potts descended the stairs, a tray with a sandwich and a glass of water in her hands. She navigated the mess of tools and robotic arms with practiced ease.
"You have to eat," she said, her voice cutting through the noise.
Tony didn't look up, his hands steady as he soldered a microscopic connection. "In a minute. I'm busy."
"You've been busy for three days," she countered, setting the tray on the only clear corner of a workbench. Her eyes fell to the device connected to his chest. "What is that?"
"That is a crude version of this," Tony said, gesturing to the massive reactor core humming in the center of the room. "And this," he tapped the glowing disc in his chest, "is keeping shrapnel from entering my heart."
Pepper's professional composure finally broke, her face paling. "Oh my God. Tony... does it hurt?"
"It's fine," he said dismissively, but his hand instinctively went to the device. "The real problem is this one is powered by a car battery. It's not sustainable." He finally turned to face her, his eyes wild with a feverish intensity. "But the big one... the big one can power this little guy for fifty lifetimes."
"Tony, you need to see a doctor."
"I am the doctor," he snapped back, then his expression softened. "Pepper, I need you to do something. It's a little unorthodox." He gestured to the glowing cavity in his chest. "I need you to reach in there and unplug the old one."
Her eyes went wide with horror. "No. No, I'm not going to do that."
"It's okay," he said, his voice now calm, reassuring. "I've got this wire here. Just feed it down, hook it up."
She stared at the tangle of wires, her hands trembling. "Tony, I can't..."
"Listen to me," he said, his gaze locking with hers. "I need you to do this. Trust me."
She took a shaky breath, her face a mask of revulsion and fear. With a deep swallow, she reached into the glowing cavity, her fingers brushing against wires and metal. A spark shot out, and she yelped, pulling her hand back.
"Don't touch the sides," he grunted through clenched teeth. "That's the key."
Taking another breath, she reached in again, her movements slow, deliberate. Her fingers found the connection. With a soft click, she pulled the old device free. The light in his chest went dark. An alarm blared through the workshop.
"What is happening..." Pepper screamed in panic.
"Nothing, I am going into minor cardiac arrest"
"Tony..!!! Wha..." Pepper choked a sob.
"It's nothing serious, you can do it."Tony tried calming her. "Just reach in and attach it the the socket okay, now the new one," he gasped, his body slumping. "Hurry."
Her hands, slick with sweat, fumbled with the new, brightly glowing arc reactor. She fed the wire down, her heart pounding in her ears. With a final, desperate push, she slammed the new reactor into place.
The alarm stopped. The brilliant blue light flooded the workshop, pulsing with a steady, powerful rhythm. Tony gasped, a deep, shuddering breath, the color returning to his face.
"See good as new, great job" he reassured her.
"Don't ever make me do that again, have someone else do it."she begged him in a panic.
"You are all I have Pep..."Pepper's breath hitched at that, a sudden rush crept up her back at the vulnerable look on his face.
She sagged against the workbench, her legs weak with relief. "What do you want me to do with this?" she asked, holding up the old, sputtering device.
Tony glanced at it, a look of disgust on his face. "Destroy it. Incinerate it. I never want to see it again."
Pepper looked from the crude device in her hand to the steady, brilliant light in Tony's chest. She didn't move. "You know, you should thank him."
Tony, busy checking the readouts on a nearby monitor, grunted. "Thank who? The engineers who couldn't figure this out in a clean room? I built it in a cave."
"Arthur," she said simply.
Tony stopped, turning to look at her. "The lawyer? For what?"
"For saving your company," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "While you were gone, it was chaos, Tony. Obadiah was losing his mind, the board was ready to sell off assets for pennies just to stop the bleeding. They were circling like vultures."
She took a step closer, her expression serious. "Arthur was the only one with a plan. He was… a wall. He filed motions and injunctions I didn't even know existed. He tied the board up in so much legal red tape they couldn't sell a paperclip without his approval. He worked day and night, holding them off."
She held his gaze. "He kept the company whole for you to come back to. I'm not sure there would have been a Stark Industries left if it wasn't for him."
Tony was silent for a long moment, processing her words. He looked from Pepper's earnest face to the new, powerful heart humming in his chest. He gave a single, slow nod. "Good to know," was all he said, before turning back to his work.
Pepper watched him for a second longer, then clutched the old arc reactor to her chest and walked away, a small, knowing smile on her lips.
Arthur's Brownstone, Greenwich Village
The room was dark, the only light emanating from a holographic display that floated in the center of the living room. It showed the complex financial nervous system of the Stark Industries board. Arthur stood before it, a glass of scotch in his hand, his reflection faint in the glowing data.
"Good evening, Arthur," a calm, resonant voice said from unseen speakers. It was JARVIS.
"JARVIS," Arthur acknowledged with a nod. "Before we proceed. Give me an assessment of Tony's condition. Ms. Potts's reports are... subjective."
"Of course," JARVIS replied. "Sir's biometrics indicate sustained elevated cortisol levels and anomalous cardiac rhythms, consistent with severe anxiety. His sleep cycles have been reduced to an average of 1.7 hours per 24-hour period. His work patterns in the lab can be classified as obsessive, deviating 87% from pre-Afghanistan productivity norms."
Arthur swirled the scotch in his glass. "So he's running on fumes and trauma."
"That is a concise, if informal, summary," JARVIS stated. The AI paused for a fraction of a second. "While my primary function is to assist him, my diagnostic subroutines flag his current state as... unsustainable. I am concerned."
"You and me both," Arthur murmured.
"Can you keep me updated of any critical changes? For now, let's make sure the world he's trying to change is still his to command when he's ready."
He gestured with his glass, and the display shifted, pulling up a familiar document.
[PROJECT PHOENIX]
[PHASE 2: THE COVERT COUNTER-STRIKE]
[Trigger: Market Stabilization. Board members, operating under the assumption their shell companies are secure, will attempt to re-acquire their controlling shares using laundered funds from Phase 1 asset liquidation.]
[Plan of Action:]
[Activate Counter-Purchase Protocol: Utilize shares acquired in Phase 1, now held by Stark-controlled entities.]
[Objective: Bleed Hostile Assets. Sell the acquired shares back to the board members' shell companies at a calculated premium (recommended: 15-20%).]
[Desired Outcome: Financial attrition of the board. Bolstering of Stark Industries' R&D budget discretely with seized funds. Preparation for Phase 3 Showdown.]
"The market has stabilized," JARVIS reported, his tone shifting back to pure data. "My projections indicate a 92% probability the board will attempt to re-acquire their controlling shares within the next 48 hours."
"Their arrogance is a predictable variable," Arthur noted. The live data stream shimmered. A buy order, large and aggressive, flashed on the screen, originating from a shell company linked to board member Peterson. "And there's our first volunteer. JARVIS, isolate Peterson's buy order. Execute the sale protocol for his block only. Fifteen percent premium."
"Executing," JARVIS confirmed. "Sale to Peterson-linked entity complete. Net profit from this transaction: $450 million."
Over the next two days, the pattern repeated. The holographic display became a quiet battlefield of staggered, targeted strikes. A node connected to board member Michaelson would glow, followed by a quiet confirmation from JARVIS. Then Gable's. Each one, confident they were cleverly buying the dip, was surgically bled by their own greed. Arthur simply watched, a silent conductor orchestrating the symphony of their financial ruin.
"Phase Two execution is now complete, Arthur," JARVIS announced on the third day. "All targeted shares have been sold back to their original blocs."
"Final tally," Arthur said, his voice a low inquiry.
"Final net profit transferred to Stark Industries' R&D account: $2.3 billion untraceable and hidden. The board's cumulative liquid assets have been reduced by an estimated 64%."
"The financial variable is contained for now," Arthur said, his voice quiet in the dark room. "JARVIS, take care of him. Your creator is your first priority. If you need any external resources that are beyond your reach, let me know."
"Thank you, Arthur," JARVIS replied. "A background monitoring protocol for Sir's well-being is currently elevated to active priority. I will ask you in case any requirements."The room fell silent as JARVIS left.
A cold, satisfied smile touched Arthur's lips. He dismissed the display with a wave of his hand, plunging the room back into darkness. As the last embers of the hologram faded, a small, discreet notification chimed on a secure terminal on his desk. The icon was a stylized shield. He walked over and opened the message. It was a preliminary report, concise and efficient.
FROM: AEGIS-FINANCIAL
SUBJ: SI ANOMALY REPORT
1. Capital flight from board-linked accounts prior to public announcement of Stark's return confirmed.
2. LOGISTICS ANOMALY DETECTED: Discrepancies found between official SI shipping manifests and deep-level server logs. A firewalled subdirectory, designated 'SECTION 16', is processing high-volume arms shipments off-books. Encryption is military-grade.
3. Initial cross-reference links 'SECTION 16' payments to offshore accounts previously associated with Ten Rings financial activity.
RECOMMENDATION: Allocate priority resources to decrypt 'SECTION 16' network. High probability of internal conspiracy.
Arthur read the report, his expression unreadable in the gloom. The Aegis team was already on the scent. They had found the trail on their own. He typed a short, encrypted reply.
TO: AEGIS-FINANCIAL
RE: SI ANOMALY REPORT
GHOST: Priority Alpha. Authorize all assets.
He sent the message. The screen went blank. He stood in the dark, the city lights a distant, glittering web. The board was bleeding. Stane was being hunted. And Tony Stark was in his workshop, building a miracle. The pieces were all moving, exactly as they should.
Tony Stark's Workshop, Malibu.
The next evening, the workshop was no longer a mess of parts, but an assembly bay. A gleaming crimson and gold leg piece was locked into a diagnostic cradle, its hydraulics hissing softly. On a nearby table, a helmet's faceplate glowed, its internal displays flickering to life. Tony, ignoring the expensive suit laid out on a chair, worked shirtless, tweaking a holographic gauntlet projected over his arm.
"Sir, a reminder," JARVIS's voice echoed through the space. "The Firefighters Family Fund Gala is in two hours. Ms. Potts has insisted that your attendance is non-negotiable."
"Cancel it," Tony muttered, not looking up as he re-calibrated the repulsor output.
"She has already anticipated that response, sir," JARVIS replied. "Her exact words were, 'Get your butt in the car, or I'm coming down there and dragging you out myself.'"
A flicker of a smile crossed Tony's face. "Fine. Tell her I'll be fashionably late."
Stane's Office
Obadiah Stane stared at the numbers on his screen. Red. All of them. The buyback had been a catastrophic failure. A small, elegant invitation to the Firefighters Gala sat on the corner of his desk, a mocking reminder of the public face he had to maintain. He swept it into the trash with the back of his hand. His company was being dismantled from within and without, and he was supposed to smile for the cameras.
The rage that had been simmering for weeks finally boiled over. He picked up the secure phone on his desk, his knuckles white.
"Get me Peterson," he snarled. "And Michaelson. And the rest of them. Set up a conference call. Now."
A/N.
And then they were broke. Before any of you ask , why didn't Arthur keep the controlling shares and say this was a stupid move, don't jump the gun, we are Just in Phase 2 of the Project pheonix.
Let me know what you think of the story so far and please leave a review, I want to know your thoughts on this fic , even if you think I am butchering the story I wanna know.