When Henry heard Tony's boast, it was as if he'd heard the funniest joke of the century. He turned to Tony with a smirk, as though Tony was an idiot.
"You won? Tony, did that explosion just now damage your brain? I took out at least a hundred enemies, not counting the pickup truck I threw like a toy.
What about you? You just set off some big fireworks and blew up a few broken tanks. In terms of efficiency and quantity, I'm the winner. So, when we get back, you'll be the one cleaning the lab, and don't leave any of my coffee cups behind."
"Hey! Changing the subject." Tony snapped, voice rising, saliva almost spraying Henry's armor.
"We're judged on quality, not quantity. I took out heavily armored units, priceless beasts that pose massive battlefield threats. You crushed only AK-wielding ragtag. Honestly, Happy could deal with those in his armor. So, by battlefield contribution points, I'm MVP! This is science."
"Oh, science?" Henry crossed his arms, playful.
"Then explain scientifically, Mr. Stark, why you, wearing tin can worth billions, are less efficient than a primitive brute like me? Your art is prettier than practical."
"You…" Tony was speechless, shaking a trembling finger at Henry.
"Henry! How did I never realize you were a jerk until now?"
"Same here," Henry shrugged.
As the brothers bickered like children with no one around, a slightly older figure emerged from the cave.
Dr. Ethan surveyed the apocalyptic battlefield, then the quarreling geniuses, his face full of helplessness.
"If you Starks don't mind, can we leave? Personally, I hate the wind, sand, and barbecue smell here."
Ethan gestured at a still-smoking corpse nearby, his tone light and humorous.
Tony and Henry stopped and looked at him.
"Hey, Ethan!"
Tony rushed over, circled Ethan twice, and only sighed with relief after confirming he was unharmed, then returned to his usual proud expression.
"Of course, with me around, how could anything happen to you?"
"Tony," Ethan smiled teasingly, "your brilliance is so dazzling I almost lost consciousness from the sound of your fight just now."
Henry approached and nodded in greeting.
He respected the man who had saved Tony's life.
Since Ethan died because of plot reasons in the movie, he was determined not to let it happen here.
"Everyone's here now. Time to call a taxi," Tony declared, activating Mark II's comm system.
"Hey, Rod, guess who's calling?"
A surprised yet helpless voice answered,
"Tony? You! We've searched for you so long we nearly turned the desert upside down!"
Tony muttered silently to himself,
"What are you saying? What do you mean 'so glad you're alive'? Does he want me to starve in Afghanistan?"
Rolling his eyes, he continued,
"Relax, Rod. I'm just here on vacation, experiencing local handicrafts. Now send a chopper. I'll send you coordinates. Just one helicopter to pick up Dr. Ethan. I've got a cooler ride home."
"A cooler ride? What nonsense? Tony, stop joking. I'm sending people now." Rod obviously didn't believe him.
"Do as I say. Pick up Ethan and take him to the best hospital for a full check-up. Put the bill on the company. As for me, you'll see me on the news soon."
Tony hung up abruptly, ignoring Rod's protests.
He turned to Henry with praise in his eyes.
Henry rolled his eyes.
"You're such a considerate boss, personally arranging employee physicals."
"Of course." Tony plopped on a relatively intact boulder, stretched, and began complaining.
"I never want to see the desert again. Dry, hot, pig-food-tasting meals, no decent bathroom. My $3,000 suit ruined! And my hair—look at this tangle!"
"Come on." Henry sat beside him, crossing his legs.
"At least you had a cave. I lived without windows; lights on 24/7, nearly claustrophobic; and the food tasted like chewing wax nutritional paste."
The brothers complained about their miserable ordeals, as if competing in suffering.
The tension and fatigue lifted in this relaxed camaraderie.
After a while, Henry's smile faded. His tone turned serious.
"Tony, there's something I have to tell you."
Tony, noting Henry's unusual seriousness, set aside jokes.
"What is it?"
"My arrest and your attack weren't accidents." Henry's voice was calm but every word felt explosive.
"Obadiah did it."
Silence froze the room.
Tony's expression stiffened. He stared blankly, taking seconds to process.
Then he laughed exaggeratedly, as if hearing a huge joke.
"Obi? Are you kidding? Henry, that's not funny. Obi's like family—our uncle. How could he?"
"Why not?" Henry interrupted sharply.
"Do you think a businessman without connections could link to Hydra? Could terrorists get your itinerary and Stark's advanced weapons without leaks from senior execs? Who benefits most from our disappearance?"
Henry's questions cut fiercely, shattering Tony's remaining illusions.
Tony's smile vanished, replaced by a dark, ugly scowl.
He was a genius, and now with all clues before him, everything clicked instantly.
All the oddities about Obadiah, previously ignored, now replayed clearly like a film.
His fists clenched tightly. He had always trusted Obadiah like an uncle, but now...