Obadiah violently shivered, his fear-widened pupils fixed on Henry. He felt like a mouse caught by a cat, who wasn't in a hurry to eat him but wanted to torment him before his death.
The survival instinct, at that moment, overshadowed all shock and resentment.
"No! Don't kill me! Henry!"
He was tearful and snotty, no longer carrying any pretense of being Stark Industries' acting CEO, looking instead like a gambler who had lost everything at the casino.
"Money! What do you want? Money? I have secret accounts in Swiss banks, tens of billions! No, hundreds of billions! I can give it all to you! And shares! My shares in Stark Industries, and all the shares in my companies, they're all yours! Just let me go!" He was incoherent, desperately throwing out his bargaining chips, attempting to bribe Henry with money.
"Please let me go, Henry! I'm your uncle! I watched you and Tony grow up! Do you remember? When you were a kid, I was the one who taught you to ride your first bike! That limited-edition Transformer for your fifth birthday? I ran all over New York to find it for you! We're family!" He started playing the emotional card, trying to awaken any familial affection that might still exist in Henry.
He believed he had done nothing wrong. He had fought for Stark Industries for so many years; shouldn't he be allowed to enjoy the fruits of his labour?
Henry listened quietly. The smile on his face didn't fade; instead, it became even brighter. He even covered his mouth in an exaggerated gesture, feigning being too moved to speak.
"Wow, Uncle? Obie, did you hit your head while you were being kidnapped?" He laughed uncontrollably, as if he had heard the funniest joke of the century.
"'Family,' coming from your mouth, sounds utterly disgusting, you know? I almost believed you. Seriously, your acting is much better than those Oscar-winners in Hollywood."
This Obadiah guy actually dared to bring up the past.
Henry's hand abruptly slid from Obadiah's forehead, gripping his thick arm with lightning speed. Then, amidst Obadiah's horrified screams, he used his single hand, effortlessly lifting the over two-hundred-pound fat man clean off the chair, his feet dangling, like a turkey ready for slaughter.
"Ah!"
Obadiah screamed like a pig being butchered. He felt his arm bone was about to be crushed by that steel-vise-like grip. Damn Henry! Did he mutate?!
"Shh, quiet now. The star of the party shouldn't be so noisy," Henry pulled him close. The eyes that were always full of mischief were now filled with mockery.
"I always thought someone in your position should have a little class. Even facing death, you should go out like a villain—leaving some final threats, or laughing maniacally while pressing the self-destruct button. I guess you're no different from those fools on Wall Street who lose all their money and cry about jumping off a building."
He shook his head, his face a picture of disappointment. So disappointing! So disappointing! I thought I was going to witness some epic Iron Monger battle.
"In your next life, don't be so presumptuous; it's pointless," his voice was still soft. "Ambition is like a certain part of your anatomy. Being big isn't enough; it has to be hard. And you clearly overestimated yourself and underestimated the Stark name."
With that, he flung Obadiah, throwing him heavily back into the chair.
"Alright, the foreplay is over."
Henry clapped his hands, as if he had just performed a trivial task. He walked to the centre of the interrogation room, looked up at the inconspicuous surveillance camera, and snapped his fingers.
"Jarvis, are you there? I know you can hear me. Lights, sound, holographic projection—is everything ready? We're going to put on a spectacular farewell performance for our dear Uncle Obie."
"Always, Mr. Henry." A robotic male voice abruptly sounded throughout the interrogation room.
"'Goodbye, Mr. Stane' themed party is ready. Lighting system, surround sound, and holographic imaging system have all completed self-check, ready to begin at your command."
Obadiah abruptly looked up, staring in disbelief at the camera. Jarvis?! The Stark family's exclusive AI? How could he?! How could he...
"Perfect." Henry nodded in satisfaction, like a show host about to take the stage.
"Then, dear Uncle Obie, please be seated. The large-scale immersive life experience drama, The Downfall of a Traitor, presented exclusively by Stark Brothers Entertainment, begins now!"
The next second, the walls of the entire interrogation room instantly transformed into huge, high-definition holographic screens. Triumphant yet tragic, ironically laced orchestral music began to play from all directions.
"First, let's enter Act One, the most tear-jerking part: The Shattering of a Family!" Henry's voice was full of dramatic flair, reminding Obadiah of a third-rate infomercial host.
"Jarvis, roll the VCR!"
The screen lit up, showing Obadiah's palatial mansion on Long Island. His wife, a woman of mature charm, was elegantly sipping afternoon tea. His daughter, a beautiful girl who had just been accepted to Yale University, was playing with her golden retriever on the lawn. Everything was so beautiful, so tranquil.
"See, Obie, such a happy and perfect family," Henry began his narration.
"A virtuous wife, a beautiful daughter. You must have sacrificed a lot for them, right? Like selling out your best friend's son?"
Obadiah looked at his wife and daughter on the screen, a complex, perhaps guilty, emotion flashing in his eyes. He loved them very much. He really did.
But soon, the tone of the picture shifted dramatically.
The mansion gates were violently rammed open by a group of FBI agents in black suits. His wife was startled, knocking over her teacup. His daughter clutched her dog in terror, confused.
"Mr. Obadiah Stane has been officially arrested on charges of treason, illegal arms dealing, and multiple counts of murder!"
The cold declaration, delivered by the agent, echoed throughout the mansion. On the screen, his wife's face instantly drained of colour, and she collapsed to the floor. His daughter let out a desperate cry.
Countless reporters, drawn by the news, swarmed the mansion, their flashbulbs illuminating the pale, desperate faces of mother and daughter.
"Look, they're famous now, Obie," Henry smiled faintly.
"Tomorrow, they'll be on the front page of every newspaper in the world. 'The Traitor's Family'—what a resounding title. I imagine your daughter's classmates at Yale will be very envious of her. Maybe someone will even start a 'Care for the Traitor's Daughter' club."
"No! Stop it!" Obadiah wailed, seeing the painful, helpless expressions of his wife and daughter on the screen.
"Don't worry, don't worry. That was just the appetizer," Henry's voice rang out again.
"Next, let's move to the thrilling Act Two: The Collapse of an Empire! Also known as, 'How to go from Billionaire to Billionaire in Debt in Ten Minutes!'"
The scene on the screen switched again. The stock ticker for Stark Industries on the New York Stock Exchange showed a green line plummeting off a cliff.
"Jarvis, can you give us a real-time data commentary?" Henry asked.
"Affirmative, Sir," Jarvis's voice came through.
"As of thirty seconds ago, Stark Industries' stock price has fallen by 78%, with a market value evaporation of over two hundred billion dollars. Mr. Obadiah Stane's personal assets, due to his implication in these crimes, have shrunk by 92%. His current net worth is below the average level of a typical hot dog vendor in New York City."
"See that, Obie? From rags to riches!" Henry clapped his hands mockingly.
"You successfully turned your life's work into a pile of worthless numbers! This is truly a miracle in commercial history!"