June 18, 2009 – Hayes Residence, New York
The evening sun cast long shadows across the Hayes home, painting everything in shades of gold and amber.
Arthur lounged on a foldable chair he had placed in the garden out the front of his house, watching his family have fun.
On the road in front, Elena and Tristan played with a group of neighborhood children—some game involving running and shrieking that Arthur had long since stopped trying to understand. Their laughter drifted toward him, bright and carefree.
Nearby, Eileen knelt beside a row of flowering shrubs, pruning shears in hand. Winky worked alongside her, carefully transplanted seedlings into fresh soil.
It was, by all accounts, a perfect evening.
His phone buzzed.
Arthur glanced at the screen. A single message from Eve.
Priority One. Immediate attention required.
His expression didn't change. He rose from his chair with unhurried grace.
"I'm going to check on something inside," he said casually.
Eileen looked up, a smudge of dirt on her cheek. "Everything alright?"
"Just a work matter. Nothing urgent."
She nodded and returned to her pruning. Winky didn't even glance up, too focused on coaxing a stubborn root into its new home.
Arthur walked into the house, his footsteps measured and calm.
The moment the door closed behind him, he vanished without a sound.
—
Arthur reappeared in his underground base. He ignored the clones busy at their workstations, striding directly to the main console where a large holographic display was already active.
"Eve. Report."
The AI's voice filled the chamber. "S.H.I.E.L.D. satellites have detected an unidentified flying object originating from Russian airspace. Trajectory suggests it is heading toward the eastern United States. Speed and flight pattern are consistent with powered armor."
A screen flickered to life, displaying a grainy satellite image.
The shape was blurry, distorted by atmospheric interference and distance. But Arthur recognized it immediately.
The broad shoulders. The brutish proportions. The complete absence of elegance.
"The Iron Monger," he whispered.
Arthur stared at the image for a long moment.
Stane.
Somehow, the man had done it. He had built the armor. Without Stark Industries' resources, without his network, without his fortune—he had still managed to create a functional suit.
Arthur should have been concerned. Should have been alarmed.
Instead, he felt a flicker of something unexpected.
Satisfaction.
Tony was going to have his wall after all.
"Eve," Arthur said, his voice calm. "Where is Tony right now?"
"Mr. Stark returned to his Malibu residence approximately forty-seven minutes ago. He completed another mission against a Ten Rings cell in Yemen."
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly.
Obadiah had planned this well. He had waited. Watched. Chosen the precise moment when Tony would be exhausted, when his armor would be depleted, when his guard would be down.
This wasn't a rage-fueled attack. This was calculated revenge.
"Projected destination of the incoming suit?"
"Based on current trajectory and speed, the target appears to be Stark Industries headquarters in Los Angeles."
Arthur's jaw tightened.
Of course. Not Tony's home. The headquarters. The symbol of everything Stane had lost. The throne he had been cast down from.
It was poetic, in a twisted way.
"Connect me to Tony. Now."
A moment of silence. Then a click.
"Arthur!" Tony's voice came through, bright and energetic despite the late hour. "What's up? Miss me already? I know I'm irresistible, but—"
"Tony." Arthur's tone cut through the banter like a blade. "There's danger incoming. You need to prepare. Now."
The levity vanished from Tony's voice instantly. "What kind of danger?"
"Check your email. I just sent you an image."
A pause. Arthur could hear the faint sounds of Tony moving, pulling up displays.
Then silence.
"...How?" Tony's voice was different now. Quiet. Intense. "That's... that's a suit. That's an Arc Reactor. How is this possible? No one else has the technology. No one is even close."
"We can figure out the how later," Arthur said firmly. "Right now, you have a tank flying towards Stark Industries. You need to intercept it."
"Stark Industries?" A sharp exhale. "Pepper's there. She's working late on the quarterly reports."
"Then you need to move. Are you in condition to fight? If you need backup, I can send help."
"No." Tony's voice hardened with resolve. "I can handle it. It's obviously a previous-generation design. Bulkier. Slower. I have the advantage."
"Tony, you just returned from a mission. Is your power sufficient?"
"I have enough. And there's still time to recharge before it arrives. I'll be ready."
Arthur paused, weighing his next words. "Be careful. I'm nearby. I'll come with support."
"How are you going to be of help? Anyways, I said I've got this, Arthur." A hint of the old bravado crept back into Tony's voice. "Just watch the news. You're about to see a hell of a show."
The line went dead.
—
Malibu, California – Stark Residence
Only minutes had passed since Arthur's call, but Tony was already in motion.
"JARVIS, I need everything you can pull from that image. Structural analysis, weapon loadouts, potential weak points. Run it against the Mark III's combat protocols and give me a battle plan."
"Analyzing now, sir. Initial assessment suggests the armor is significantly heavier than your current suit—approximately three times the mass. Weapons appear to include a rotary cannon on the right arm and what appears to be a missile delivery system on the left. Power source is consistent with Arc Reactor technology, though the energy signature suggests a less refined design."
"Less refined means less efficient," Tony muttered, pulling up his own armor's status on the workshop displays. "Which means it burns through power faster. That's something."
"However, sir, the increased mass also suggests substantially thicker armor plating. Your standard repulsor blasts may have reduced effectiveness against the torso and helmet."
"So I need to be smart about targeting. Joints. Sensors. Weak points." Tony was already moving toward the suit-up platform. "What about mobility?"
"The design prioritizes durability over agility. You should have a significant speed advantage in both flight and ground combat."
"Good. That's good." The Mark III began assembling around him, plates locking into place with precise mechanical clicks. "What's the ETA on our mystery guest?"
"Based on current trajectory, the unidentified armor will reach Los Angeles airspace in approximately eighteen minutes."
Eighteen minutes.
Tony's mind raced. Stark Industries headquarters. Hundreds of employees. Security personnel. Maintenance staff working the night shift.
Pepper.
He tried her phone. No answer. Tried again. Voicemail.
"JARVIS, send an emergency evacuation alert to Stark Industries. All personnel. Code Red. Get everyone out of that building."
"Alert dispatched, sir. Building security is initiating evacuation protocols."
That would have to be enough. Tony didn't have time to fly there and personally escort everyone out. He needed to intercept the threat before it reached the building.
Please be smart, Pepper. Please get out.
The helmet descended over his face, the HUD flickering to life.
"JARVIS, how's our power looking?"
"Current capacity at sixty-eight percent and rising, sir. Charging systems are operating at maximum efficiency."
It wasn't ideal. But it would have to do.
Tony walked to the launch platform, the garage doors already sliding open to reveal the night sky.
"Time to meet the competition."
The repulsors flared, and Iron Man shot into the darkness.