Pepper hurried out of the office with nervous, rapid steps, every instinct screaming at her to flee. She was terrified that Obadiah would realize his error and charge out after her. Her hand was slick with sweat, the golden keyring chip digging into her palm through the newspaper wrapping.
Just as she was navigating the highly visible entrance lobby, she almost collided with a familiar, perfectly buttoned man.
It was Agent Phil Coulson, who had been patiently waiting for an appointment with her for the past few days, trying to get Tony to sit for a debriefing.
Coulson, seeing the desperate, wide-eyed panic barely contained beneath Pepper's professional facade, immediately stopped smiling. "Miss Potts, we had an appointment, didn't you forget? You look like you just saw a ghost in a suit."
"I haven't forgotten, Agent," Pepper gasped out, her words rushed and clipped. She was immensely glad he was there, a solid point of professional competence in her collapsing world. "You can do it now. Come with me! Now!"
"Now?" Coulson raised an eyebrow, noting her frantic state, the dampness in her hair, and the way she was clutching the newspaper.
"Yes, now. Come with me, please." Pepper practically shoved the man toward the elevator bank.
Coulson instantly understood the situation had gone critical. He fell into step beside her, his professional calm radiating. "Where are we going, Miss Potts? And what exactly are we meeting about?"
"We're going to your office, or somewhere secure. You will never, ever forget this meeting!"
Pepper glanced back toward the second-floor observation deck, right where Obadiah's office overlooked the lobby. She quickly spoke in a low, urgent voice to Agent Coulson, pushing him into a secure, less-trafficked corridor.
Upstairs, Obadiah appeared at his office window, watching the two figures disappear around the corner. His lips twisted into a cruel, momentary snarl. He knew Pepper was running, and he knew who the bland man with the suit was. It didn't matter. The information was out, but the weapon was still in his hands.
Obadiah turned and rushed through a hidden door, descending rapidly to the sub-basements—District 16. He angrily pushed open the reinforced steel door of the experimental zone.
A dozen or so brilliant but deeply stressed researchers were still conducting inconclusive studies in front of a giant, humming electric arc reactor, a massive, unrefined power source meant to power the entire building.
The lead researcher, a frazzled man named William, saw Obadiah's thunderous arrival and rushed over to greet him, wringing his hands. "Mr. Stane, we've done everything we can, but the task you asked us to do seems to be a little… difficult."
"Difficulties?" Obadiah growled, his face dark as thunder.
"Yes, sir. The power supply technology for this armor—the scaling, the purity, the sheer power density—it simply hasn't been developed yet. We can't miniaturize this," William said, gesturing helplessly to the gargantuan reactor humming behind him.
Obadiah shoved the man aside, his eyes blazing. "Wait a minute, what do you mean by 'not appearing'? William, the core technology is right here! I just need you to scale it down! We have Tony's original plans!"
"Yes, sir, we tried our best, running simulations and material tests for days. But to be honest, scaling down a building-sized reactor into a shirt-pocket-sized personal energy source while retaining its output… it's technologically impossible with our current materials and knowledge," William said softly, holding up his hands defensively.
Obadiah let out a furious roar that echoed off the steel walls. "Tony Stark made it in a cave! Using a bunch of junk! You have a multi-billion dollar facility!"
"I'm sorry, sir," William managed, stepping back, completely defeated. "I'm not Tony Stark."
Obadiah immediately realized the damning truth: these guys, while brilliant in theoretical engineering, couldn't replicate Tony's intuitive genius. They would never be able to build the tiny, powerful reactor needed to run the massive Iron Monger suit. There was only one way: find Tony Stark, who had the complete, functioning technology pulsing in his chest.
Pepper, her adrenaline still spiking, went to a secure, temporary S.H.I.E.L.D. office nearby. There, she presented Coulson with the golden chip, showing him the chilling video footage, the Iron Monger plans, and the Jericho missile manifests. She laid out everything that had happened, including the undeniable evidence that Obadiah Stane was the mastermind behind Tony's attempted murder and the current head of an illegal weapons black market.
Coulson, a professional agent of a secret organization, instantly grasped the gravity of the situation. This wasn't just corporate espionage; this was high treason and the theft of paradigm-shifting defense technology. He immediately reported it to his superiors.
Five high-level S.H.I.E.L.D. combatants were hastily dispatched to the Stark Industries headquarters with explicit orders: capture Obadiah and ensure Miss Potts's safety.
Only after Coulson firmly reminded her did the flustered Pepper remember the most critical part: Tony. She snatched her phone and dialed the Malibu mansion number.
Tony, who was enjoying the peace and quiet of his morning with his upgraded body, was eating a luxurious sandwich in the living room. He had been thinking of calling Leo to join him, but remembering the sheer, explosive commotion from the previous night, he decided not to disturb the boy, who was now quietly meditating.
Suddenly, his phone began ringing on the coffee table. It was Pepper.
Just as Tony reached out to answer the call, he sensed a slight shift in the air pressure behind him. He stiffened, turning his head slowly—and saw Obadiah Stane standing silently in the doorway, blocking the sun, his friendly smile replaced by a predator's cold grin.
Obadiah realized he had been exposed the moment he saw Pepper's name flash on Tony's phone screen. There was no holding back now. He rushed forward in two swift steps, activating the palm-sized sonic paralysis device in his hand.
Tony's superior combat skills were useless. He had no chance to react.
A high-pitched, invisible wave of energy slammed into Tony's nervous system. Instantly, countless black blood streaks appeared on the side of his head, his eyes became bloodshot, and his entire body went rigid. He couldn't move at all, unable even to drop the phone clutched in his hand.
This powerful sonic attack was even more damaging than usual, preying on Tony's fatigued, over-stressed body.
Obadiah smoothly took the phone from Tony's hand and gently helped Tony's stiff, paralyzed body lean back onto the sofa.
"Breathe, Tony. Relax. Relax."
He raised the still-activated paralysis device in his hand, a look of twisted nostalgia on his face. "You still remember this little beauty, don't you? I helped your father fund the development of it."
Obadiah shook his head regretfully. "It's a real shame the government didn't approve mass production; temporarily numbing the body is still quite useful." Only then did he switch it off.
Tony's bloodshot eyes were filled with disappointment, despair, and crushing physical pain. His mind, though boiling with rage, was encased in a frozen body.
Obadiah leaned in, turning Tony's head gently to face him. "Tony, when I ordered the hunt for you, I was worried. Truly worried."
He pulled a small, custom-made metallic device from a velvet-lined box. He fiddled with it, a tiny needle extending from one end, before calmly pressing it onto the skin surrounding the reactor in Tony's chest.
"I thought I had killed the hen that laid the golden eggs. But look," Obadiah leaned back, pressing a button on the device.
The reactor sprang violently back, forcing itself out of the metal casing in Tony's chest. The paralyzed Tony groaned, a silent, internal scream of pure agony. The metal shrapnel was already beginning to shift.
"Your life is not meant to end, Tony," Obadiah stated, his voice a mocking whisper.
With a final, sharp twist, he removed the second-generation palladium arc reactor from Tony's chest, leaving only a few severed wires connecting the wound to the fragile internal components of his body.
"Because you still have to lay the last, and greatest, golden egg."
Tony strained, using every ounce of his paralyzed will to try and look at the man in front of him. But Obadiah grinned menacingly, his eyes fixed only on the brightly humming Arc Reactor in his hand.
"Do you really think that the grand thoughts in your head—the noble desire to save the world—are entirely your own?" Obadiah scoffed.
"Your father helped build the atomic bomb, Tony. If he had kept it to himself like you're trying to do, what kind of world would we live in? A controlled world, Tony. A safe world. That's the legacy he intended for us."
Smiling at Tony's desperate, helpless eyes, Obadiah pulled hard, ripping the reactor completely free and severing the last wires. Tony's chest cavity was left an empty, bleeding, gaping void.
Obadiah held the humming reactor up, letting the faint blue glow wash over his face. He admired it like a priceless gem. "Oh, it's really beautiful. Tony, this is your Symphony of Fate. A true masterpiece. Look, it will be your legacy. It will empower my legacy."
Obadiah leaned close to Tony's head, placing the reactor in front of the dying man. "This is the core of the next generation of weapons. With control of this power, we can stop the messy wars and, Tony, we can control the entire world."
Tony was heartbroken, his chest cavity filling with fire. His Uncle Obadiah, who had supported him for fifteen years and was his only trusted and beloved relative, was now personally killing him with his own invention. Tony never wanted to see him again—a wish he knew would soon be granted.
Obadiah stood up, turning to leave, then paused, looking down at Tony. "I really hope you can see the prototype of the armor I built. Unlike yours, it is not so… conservative. Oh, and Tony, it's really too bad of you to drag Pepper into this. I was planning to keep her on; she's too efficient to let go."
Tony's eyes widened to an impossible degree. The word 'Pepper' was a sudden, violent surge of willpower, a desperate desire that overcame the immediate threat of death. Obadiah wants to kill Pepper. No, Pepper can't be harmed!
Obadiah finally left with chilling peace of mind. He had kept the paralysis device on for twice as long as normal, a dosage that was easily enough to cause severe, lasting neurological harm.
Moreover, Tony needed the constant field of the reactor in his chest to hold the metal fragments in place; if they weren't held by the powerful magnetic field for too long, the sharp fragments would travel unchecked along his bloodstream and pierce his heart.
Leo's room was a tempest of raw, golden energy.
His two arms crackled with visible blue-white electricity as he frantically absorbed the immense energy within the Arc Reactor, converting the palladium's power into raw, concentrated qi. He was aided by the two massive gold-titanium alloy plates positioned beside him, which served as a massive, hyper-conductive, self-repairing energy reservoir.
Countless golden rays surged into his body, coalescing around his spine and heart. Leo had already crossed the first invisible threshold.
A powerful, agonizing force gradually surged through Leo's core. The golden light from the outside world guided this energy, and it began to slowly gather on Leo's shoulder blades.
The gold threads on his body—the ancient protective runes—trembled violently, and the patterns on his chest gradually spread out, extending into more fine, complex lines. They even showed a tendency to split apart, revealing the true power hidden beneath the protective seal.
Golden light intensified, forming a solid column that lifted Leo's small body high into the air above the room, suspending him in a gravity-defying, painful state of transformation.
Just as Leo was wondering what was happening, an indescribable, bone-jarring pain began to emanate from the very center of his spine, penetrating deep into his bone marrow.
Leo couldn't form a coherent thought; his consciousness was reduced to one searing word: "PAIN!"
It was as if his entire spine was being pulled out, stretched, and then re-inserted, all at once. Leo's muscles were taut, corded with tension, and you could even see the individual muscle fibers beneath his skin. The next moment, it felt as if a giant, invisible hammer was smashing his vertebrae one by one, pulverizing them before instantly reforming them with gold-infused toughness.
His face turned so red it looked like it was about to burst, and his bulging eyes were completely filled with blood, leaving no white showing. His teeth were chattering uncontrollably, sounding like dry pebbles rattling in a tin can.
His slender fingers twisted beyond recognition, covered in bulging, strained veins. Each joint of his fingers was stiff and protruding, momentarily forming angles that defied human anatomy.
The intense, burning pain radiated from his ribs, his limbs, and even his skull. It was as if pain was emanating from his very hair follicles, constantly assaulting every corner of Leo's body without pause.
At the same time, a deep, unseen force—the nascent Golden Body protection—was fiercely protecting Leo's brain, preventing him from falling into the merciful oblivion of a coma. Instead, it was forcing his mind to boil with the sensation, making him feel as if his consciousness were about to explode at any moment.
After an unknown, agonizing eternity, the golden light finally subsided. Leo's body, which had been floating in the air, finally began to slowly descend, gently laying him down on the ground.
The transformation was complete. The breakthrough was achieved.
Tony's paralysis still hadn't fully worn off. His body, pale and bloodless, was now suffering from oxygen deprivation and the metallic shrapnel migrating rapidly toward his heart. The pain was immense, but the panic of dying and the urgent need to save Pepper fueled him.
He struggled, half-crawling, half-drifting across the marble floor of the living room. He slammed his head against the elevator wall just trying to get inside. His movements were completely uncontrolled, jerky, and agonizingly slow.
In just a few dozen meters, Tony's custom-tailored clothes were already soaked through with cold, clammy sweat.
His objective: the workshop. Specifically, the drawer, twenty meters away, containing the brand-new Arc Reactor that Leo had just returned—Tony's only hope.
He tried to quicken his pace, but his body betrayed him. He suddenly fell down hard, the impact jarring the shrapnel further. He didn't even have the strength to get up again. With veins bulging on his face, eyes fixed on the distant drawer, Tony began to struggle, desperately crawling forward, dragging his broken body across the cold, hard floor.