After deciding that Morin's definition of "normal" had nothing to do with everyone else's, Tony stopped overthinking it.
Trying to understand the logic of an abnormal person was dangerous.
Only a crazy person could understand another crazy person.
More importantly, the video was real.
Tony watched the projection of Obadiah speaking with the terrorists. His expression darkened. Suspecting it was one thing. Seeing confirmation was another. Fortunately, he had already lost trust in Obadiah, so the impact was muted.
"It seems Mr. Stane isn't that stupid."
Tony watched as Obadiah's hand brushed over the empty slot in the Mark I's chest. He let out a cold laugh. He didn't regret showing Obadiah the arc reactor. It wasn't too late to fix things.
"Sir, shall I contact the police?" Jarvis asked.
"No. Get Rhodes on the line and send him the video."
"Calling Colonel James Rhodes, Sir."
After a short delay, the call connected.
"Tony? You have time to call me?" Rhodes said. "I thought you'd be buried in trouble right now."
"The contracts are a mess," Tony replied. "But that's just signing checks and paying fines."
As he spoke, he worked on a 3D projection of the armor, adjusting components in real time.
"I sent you a video. Watch it."
"What video?"
"Just watch it."
Tony ended the call.
A few minutes later, the phone rang again.
"What the hell?!" Rhodes snapped. "Is this real? Where did you get this? Are they actually saying that?!"
His voice was tight with shock and anger.
"I told him how you escaped! I thought-damn it! I didn't expect this!"
"Relax," Tony said. "It doesn't matter. I didn't know either until I saw the video. It's not too late."
"I'm sending people to arrest him right now!" Rhodes said. "The moment he lands, he's going to court-martial!"
"No," Tony said. "I don't want anyone else to know."
"What?"
"The armor isn't the point," Tony continued. "The energy source in my chest is. That's the future. And I'm not handing it over. I don't want to deal with military brass."
He paused, eyes fixed on the glowing core reflected in the model.
"I've built enough weapons. When I was held captive, I saw what my weapons did. That's why I shut down the division."
He adjusted the model again.
"I think I have a better choice. I don't want my life to be wasted. I've wasted enough decades already. This hole in my chest is a lesson. Now, I want to do what I want to do."
There was silence.
"...You know," Rhodes finally said, "that actually sounds pretty cool."
Tony glanced up. "Really?"
"Yeah. You never used to explain yourself like this. It makes me believe this isn't some impulsive decision."
"Is that what you thought?"
"Well, whatever you do, you always convince me you're right." Rhodes chuckled. "So what do you want to do? This sounds like the start of a superhero origin story. Like Batman or Superman."
"I'm not like them," Tony said calmly. "I am who I am."
"Yeah. Billionaire playboy," Rhodes said. "One step away from Batman."
He sighed.
"You still haven't answered me."
"I did," Tony said.
"How?"
"I answered you."
"...I'm honored," Rhodes replied dryly. "Can I get a signed photo later? 'Future Superhero.' I'll sell it when I retire."
Tony laughed. "Do this right, and you can have as many as you want."
"Just so you know," Rhodes added, "this is illegal. Arresting people without reporting it is illegal detention."
"Please," Tony said. "It'd be weird if the military actually followed the law for once."
He sent over the flight number.
"Don't screw this up."
"I'm going to get fired because of you one day," Rhodes muttered, and hung up.
He hadn't agreed outright.
But the intent was clear.
"If he saw this, do you think he'd still say that?" Tony asked, looking at the Mark II projection.
"I believe Colonel Rhodes would want one, Sir," Jarvis replied.
"In his dreams."
Tony snorted.
Was it really just a dream?
Maybe for now.
But later... who knew?
-
On the plane, Obadiah was uneasy.
He didn't know who he had spoken to through the encrypted chat. Only that their hacking skills were terrifying and their information classified. As for the so-called powerful organization...
He had only their word.
He hadn't seen proof.
As regret began creeping in-wondering if he should've just killed Tony and taken the technology himself-a sound came from the roof of the plane.
At first, he ignored it.
Then it grew louder.
Private jets had excellent soundproofing.
For noise to pass through...
How loud was it?
Four glowing red lines appeared on the ceiling.
A second later, the metal melted.
The red glow came from high-temperature cutting.
A man in black tactical gear kicked the hatch down and dropped into the cabin.
Gunshots followed.
Every one of Obadiah's bodyguards fell instantly.
"Who... who are you?!" Obadiah stammered.
"Cut off one head, two more shall take its place," the soldier said calmly. "Welcome to Hydra, Mr. Stane."
He chuckled softly.
"This plane is now under our control. After we extract you and the cargo, it will crash due to pilot error. No evidence."
"But... my bodyguards-"
"You joined Hydra," the soldier cut in. "They didn't."
He stepped closer.
"Now. Where is the cargo?"
A chill ran through Obadiah.
They weren't interested in him.
They wanted the armor.
It was familiar logic.
If their positions were reversed, he'd choose the higher-value asset too.
Business.
That realization terrified him.
What was his value now?
A contract?
A title?
Had he boarded a sinking ship?
"Don't worry," the soldier said, apparently sensing his fear.
He moved with practiced ease, opening a compartment and pulling out a parachute. He tossed one to Obadiah.
"This is just to lay low. Once Tony is dealt with, you'll resurface. Then Stark Industries will be yours."
Obadiah relaxed.
Only slightly.
He understood what "yours" really meant.
Still, it was better than nothing.
At least they needed him as a front.
Soon, Obadiah, the Mark I remains, and the soldier moved through the opening into another aircraft.
Obadiah was confused.
There was no decompression. No alarms. No wind.
Passing through, he saw it.
A sealed square tunnel connecting the two planes.
"We locked onto this jet long ago," the soldier explained. "Installed a controller. Overrode the pilot mid-flight. Synchronized the aircraft and breached using external aids."
He spoke like it was routine.
That was what terrified Obadiah.
Not the plan.
The execution.
How many times had they done this to be this efficient?
-
All of this was filmed.
Naturally.
A certain anonymous photographer found himself in a cinematic location, conducting a secret shoot.
Perfectly normal.
Morin happily trimmed the footage, kept a three-second clip, and sent it to Tony with a classic clickbait title:
[SHOCKING! THE LEGENDARY GREAT ESCAPE!]
Short clip.
Clear face.
Perfect selling point.
Tony didn't even call.
A million dollars arrived instantly.
"Nice and quick," Morin praised.
Then he sent the full video.
Tony was shocked.
Not by the escape method. He could've designed something better.
He was shocked that the "big organization" Morin mentioned actually existed.
Hydra.
The name rang a bell.
From long ago.
From when his father, Howard, was still alive.
"Jarvis," Tony said, "search for Hydra. Internet and internal files. Mask the traces."
"At once, Sir."
Moments later, results appeared.
"Hydra: a monster from Greek mythology. A hundred heads. Cut one off, two more grow in its place."
"And our database?"
"Hydra: an organization founded in Germany during World War II. Possessed advanced technology. Destroyed at the end of the war."
"Destroyed?" Tony stared at the video. "Then what the hell is this?"
"There are no further records," Jarvis said. "These files originated from your father. His physical archives may contain more. Alternatively, you could ask Mr. Morin."
Tony frowned.
"Where are the archives stored? ...Never mind. Call Morin first."
He hesitated.
Morin unsettled him.
If Morin was an ally, how did he film this without being killed?
If he wasn't, why send it?
Was it really just about money?
Tony had once again performed his favorite maneuver.
First, rule out the correct answer.
His curiosity was fully engaged.
Smart people were like that.
Without talent, curiosity just got you killed faster.
"How did you film those videos?" Tony asked the moment the call connected. "Tell me-and I'll give you ten million dollars."