A Few Days Later: Titan's Production Facility
Titan's production facility looked less like a normal studio workshop and more like someone had built a secret military lab, filled it with artists, and told them they had unlimited coffee.
The main room was huge. Designers moved between long tables covered in sketches, foam prototypes, resin plates, helmet mockups, fabric samples, mechanical joints, and half-built chest pieces. On one side of the room, several mannequins wore early Iron Man armor concepts in different stages of completion. Some looked too bulky, some too sleek, some too toy-like, and one looked like it had been designed by a man who hated human shoulders.
Alex walked into the production wing, RDJ following behind him.
"I'm telling you, Robert, if we tried to make a full metal suit, you wouldn't even get past the first scene," Alex said, pointing at one of the prototypes on the table. "It's going to weigh a ton, your mobility would be zero, and we'd have to carry a crane just to get you in it."
RDJ leaned over, examining the glossy red and gold torso plate. "So there's gonna be a lot of CGI, I guess."
"Mostly," Alex said. "We'll do parts physically, like gloves, chest piece, helmet, boots, so you actually feel it. Full armor body movement will be recorded through motion capture technology. And the real stuff for close-ups and punching scenes. Trust me, we don't want you falling flat because the suit weighs 200 pounds."
One of the lead designers, a guy in goggles and a black T-shirt covered in sketches, chimed in. "We can use carbon fiber, titanium composites, and lightweight foam. The helmet will have internal padding and enough space for proper air intake and cooling because it's going to be stuffy, and joints will be rigged so you can move your arms and legs. We'll split it into sections that snap together."
RDJ raised an eyebrow. "Meaning I get to pretend I'm a genius billionaire in a suit without breaking my back every morning."
"Exactly," Alex said, grinning. "Except you still have to look like you're comfortable doing it. That's why we need precise measurements. We can't fudge anything when we're combining practical with digital."
They moved to a measuring station where RDJ was told to stand still. Designers held long tape measures, calipers, and digital scanners while jotting down every dimension of his body. Alex supervised, occasionally offering input on angles or how the suit would fit over casual clothes.
"Okay, hold your arms out a little," said one designer. "Yes, like that. Perfect. Now tilt your head slightly. Right there. We need the helmet to clear your jawline."
RDJ muttered, "Feels like I'm auditioning for a robot wedding."
Next, the mold process began, plaster and silicone sliding across his body. RDJ tried to stay still but grimaced as the material cooled against his skin. "I feel like a human jelly mold." He laughed, making the crew chuckle.
The designers laughed while adjusting the strips. "Almost done with the torso. Legs next." RDJ lifted one foot as carefully as possible, wincing. "Remind me never to challenge a sumo wrestler in this."
Alex chuckled. "Relax. Soon, you'll be Iron Man, not Iron Pancake."
The mold hardened quickly, and the team helped RDJ step out. He flexed his arms, legs, and fingers, grinning as he looked down at the impressions left behind. "Well, I can say my butt has never looked more heroic," he joked.
By the end of the day, all measurements were done, molds had hardened, and the designers had a clear plan for building the armor in parts. After that, RDJ and Alex stepped out of the facility.
"So what's the story?" RDJ asked as they walked toward the car. "Comic-accurate, or MCU only?"
Alex replied, hands in his jacket pockets. "Completely new. I'm keeping the core of Tony Stark, but the plot and all the events are brand new."
RDJ raised an eyebrow. "Original, huh?"
"Yes," Alex said. "I don't want to copy the comics scene by scene. Fans will recognize the essence of the character, but the story has to feel fresh. The suit is just part of it. Tony has to carry the film."
They reached RDJ's car. Alex continued, "He starts flawed, selfish, and way too reckless. The movie forces him to confront the consequences of his choices. He doesn't become a hero overnight, but he earns it."
RDJ nodded once, satisfied. "Sounds like a Tony Stark I can work with."
Alex smiled. "Good. That's exactly the Tony people will remember."
...
[September 10] [Titan Studios, Los Angeles] [Alex's Office]
The numbers looked ugly before anyone said them out loud.
Alex stood near the glass wall of his office, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a report that had been printed less than ten minutes ago. Outside, Titan Studios still looked alive. Crew members crossed the lot with headsets and clipboards. A costume assistant hurried past with three garment bags thrown over one shoulder, nearly losing one in the wind.
From a distance, everything looked normal.
Inside the office, the illusion died on the table.
Rachel sat across from him with three open folders, two financial ledgers, and a laptop glowing with charts that all leaned in the same painful direction. Red numbers, downward arrows, shrinking sales, rising storage costs, and projections that kept getting worse every time someone updated the data.
She turned one page, then another, her expression colder than the air conditioning. "Energy drinks are down forty-one percent. Perfume is down fifty-two. Clothing is sitting between forty-five and fifty-five depending on the line. Hero merch is moving slower every week, and the high-end prop replicas are practically frozen."
Alex lowered the report and looked at the skyline beyond the glass. "Hotels?"
Rachel did not soften the answer. "Running at a loss in three locations. New York is bleeding the worst because corporate bookings collapsed. Los Angeles is barely holding because entertainment traffic is still moving, but barely holding is not a strategy."
Alex gave a small humorless smile. "You're getting really poetic with bad news lately."
Rachel looked up from the laptop. "The bad news keeps giving me material."
He crossed back to the desk and tossed the report beside the others. The paper slid across the polished wood, stopping against a folder marked retail inventory. That one might have been the worst of them all. Titan's warehouses were full. Energy drink pallets, clothing boxes, perfume cases, limited-edition superhero bags, masks, figures, posters, prop replicas, and collectors' items were sitting in storage while the world tightened its wallet.
Rachel tapped the inventory report with two fingers. "This is the real problem. We have stock sitting everywhere. Until we clear it, the production facilities are sitting ducks. And when facilities wait too long, people start asking whether they're next on the chopping block."
Alex's jaw shifted slightly. "Are they asking?"
Rachel turned the laptop toward him. "They're whispering. Supervisors are hearing it. Floor managers are hearing it. People are scared, Alex. Other companies are cutting staff, freezing payroll, shutting factories, declaring bankruptcy, selling assets. They see the news every day, then they look at our warehouses and start doing the math inside their heads."
Alex stared at the screen, his face calm in the way Rachel knew meant he was anything except calm. The recession had stopped being a distant headline. It had crawled through Wall Street, banks, studios, households, malls, hotels, and now it was pressing its hand against Titan's windows.
Rachel leaned back, arms folding across her chest. "This looks really bad."
Alex exhaled through his nose and picked up the retail sheet. "How bad are the storage costs?"
"Bad enough that leaving the stock untouched becomes its own wound," Rachel said, reaching for another page. "Warehouses, insurance, climate control for the perfume, security for high-value props, transport contracts we already booked, raw materials we already paid for. We can survive it because you are you, but the structure itself is under pressure."
He read in silence for a few seconds, then dropped the page and looked at her. "Slash product prices as low as possible."
Rachel's eyes narrowed slightly. "Define as low as possible."
"As close to cost as we can without making the sales look desperate," Alex said, already moving around the desk. "Bundle the clothes with merch. Push the energy drinks into bulk discounts. Perfume gets limited-time pricing. Prop replicas get collector packages with certificates and behind-the-scenes material. We clear stock first, then worry about margins later."
Rachel clicked into a new file, fingers moving quickly. "That helps cash flow, but it does not solve confidence. Consumers are nervous. They are buying necessities, not superhero jackets and premium perfume."
"Then we make it easier to buy," Alex said. "Temporarily remove handling and shipping charges. If someone wants a Spider-Man hoodie, they pay for the hoodie and nothing else."
Rachel paused typing and looked at him. "That will burn money."
Alex met her eyes. "Who cares?"
Her mouth twitched, almost a smile, then vanished. "You aren't thinking what I'm thinking, are you?"
Alex walked to the window again. The lot below looked smaller from up here, almost fragile. People moved through Titan every day believing the machine would keep running because Alex Wilson always made it run. He had built that belief piece by piece, hit by hit, paycheck by paycheck. He was not about to let a recession teach his employees fear with his name attached to it.
"I'm using the High Table's power again," he said.
Rachel became perfectly still. "You want me to white money."
Alex turned back toward her. "Yes."
The word sat between them with the weight of a locked door opening somewhere underground.
Rachel's expression did not change, but her voice lowered. "You can generate unlimited money. That is still one of the most ridiculous sentences attached to a living man. So why are we pretending this is complicated?"
"Because generated money is useless if it cannot enter the system cleanly," Alex said, walking back to the desk. "I can pull cash out of thin air until this office looks like a cartoon vault, but I cannot pay salaries with mystery money that appeared without origin. I need it clean and usable. I need auditors, banks, payroll, vendors, insurers, and tax offices to see numbers that make sense. If that doesn't work, buy them all. I'll generate as much as you need to pull this off."
Rachel studied him for a moment. "You understand what you are asking."
"I'm asking you to move it through channels your world already controls," Alex said, his voice calm and direct. "I need clean capital injected through structures that can take it without raising alarms." He took the bottle of water from the table and twisted the cap open. "Ask my parents for help since this will be complicated." He took a sip.
Rachel looked down at the reports again, then back at him. "How much?"
"Enough to cover payroll for every Titan facility for the next year," Alex said. "Films, studios, publishing, merch, drinks, clothing, perfume, hotels, logistics, warehouse staff, cleaning crews, drivers, assistants, everyone."
Rachel's brows lifted by half an inch. "That is not a small number."
"I did not build a small company."
"No," Rachel said, dryly. "You built an empire and then filled it with people who trust you."
"That's exactly why we are doing this," Alex said, tapping the payroll folder. "There won't be any layoffs. I want every worker under Titan paid on time, in full, with a bonus."
Rachel stared at him. "A bonus."
"A recession bonus," Alex said. "Call it a household support payment, emergency relief, whatever makes legal sound less soulless. People have rent, mortgages, family and kids; then there are medical bills. Parents to support. If the world is going to squeeze them, Titan is not going to join the pile."
Rachel leaned back slowly, and for once, the iciness in her face eased into something almost tender. "You realize that most CEOs are currently doing the exact opposite."
Alex gave a faint shrug. "Most CEOs are terrified of investors."
"And you are not?"
"I am more terrified of becoming the kind of man who looks at scared workers and sees an expense line," Alex said, his voice quieter now. "The second I do that, every speech I have ever given about Titan being a family turns into marketing."
Rachel watched him carefully. This was the part of Alex that always complicated everything. He could crush competitors without blinking. He could play Hollywood like a casino where he owned the cards. He could terrify boardrooms, governments, and criminals because he understood power in a way most men only pretended to understand.
Then he would look at a warehouse worker's paycheck and treat it like a sacred thing.
She opened the laptop again. "We can structure the capital as emergency liquidity from private investment vehicles, overseas holdings, and High Table-controlled trusts. The public face will be clean. The money enters through Titan's parent-level reserves, then moves into payroll protection, retail stabilization, and hotel operating support."
"Ah, I almost forgot. Make a deal with the President. Tell them, I'll give them as much money as they need to suppress this mess. Heck, I'll even erase the entire national debt. In return, they have to make polygamy legal in America," Alex said.
"Who're you going to marry first?" Rachel asked.
Alex laughed a bit. "You asking that question means you've the means to do that, huh?"
"Depends on your answer," Rachel replied with a smirk.
"That will depend on pregnancy. First Halle, then Max and then whoever gets pregnant next."
Rachel stood up, walked over to the door, and locked it. Then she turned back.
"Get that dick out."
As if to ruin the moment, the desk assistant knocked on the door.
"Sir. Dick Cook from Disney Studios is here for an appointment."
"Way to ruin the moment, tsk," Rachel clicked her tongue. "We're fucking after this meeting."
Alex shook his head. "With pleasure."
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