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Late at night, Kael arrived like a phantom at the foot of Stark Tower.
In Night City, Kael had learned that style and professionalism were inseparable. He pulled a matte-black tactical mask from his pocket and slipped it on, leaving only his piercing eyes visible. In the Cyberpunk world, he had assisted V with dozens of "off-the-books" operations; to this day, his record for ghosting high-sec facilities remained a perfect 100%.
Entering the building during the day would have been simple enough, but Obadiah Stane had eyes everywhere. Tony's office was on the penthouse level, and during office hours, it was a hive of corporate snitches. At night, the building transitioned into a high-tech fortress. Armed veterans patrolled the halls, and the internal security grids were primed to flag even a stray heat signature.
However, cracking mid-2000s security was child's play for a Hacker trained by the likes of Lucy and Sasha.
While his "lessons" with the two Netrunning teachers often delved into the more physiological aspects of human connection, Kael's technical aptitude was undeniable. Without the aid of a cyberdeck or neural implants, he was still a god in this era's primitive Net. He pulled out his portable terminal and, with a few precise keystrokes, ghosted the building's defenses.
Stark Industries' security experts were good; they had set up a triple-layered firewall. To anyone else, it was a vault. To Kael, it was a sheet of wet paper.
He bypassed the patrols, his movement fluid and clinical. The only real obstacle was the sheer number of stairs he had to climb to reach the executive level. Chewing a piece of gum to keep his focus, he finally reached the top floor.
Tony's office was a temple of industrial design. A floor-to-ceiling glass wall overlooked the Manhattan skyline—a view that made Kael feel like he was back on the upper levels of Arasaka Tower. He found the computer, inserted the lock-chip, and located the hidden drive.
Obadiah had too much faith in the internal network. He'd stored every encrypted correspondence, every illegal shipping manifest, and every kickback record right there. It was a goldmine.
But Kael found something even better.
"Oh, wow... Iron Monger schematics... Arc Reactor conceptual specs... now we're talking."
Asking Kael to hack a computer was like letting a Scavenger loose in a Ripperdoc's clinic. Kael didn't just take what Tony asked for; he brought an extra-large hard drive. He vacuumed up thirty years of Stark research data, including prototypes that Tony had forgotten existed.
From the files, it was clear that Obadiah was panicking. He'd sensed Tony's growing distrust and was rushing the construction of the Iron Monger suit, preparing to "overturn the table" before he was uncovered.
Once the data transfer was complete, Kael ghosted back out and drove straight to Tony's coastal villa.
Malibu: Freedom City.
The Stark residence was a glass-and-steel marvel perched on a cliffside. It served as both a home and a laboratory for the man who would be Iron Man. J.A.R.V.I.S., currently acting as the villa's butler, scanned Kael's credentials before allowing him entry.
Pepper was waiting for him. She looked frazzled but determined. She led Kael deep into the core research area, where Tony was struggling to suit up in the Mark III.
The process was clumsy; a motorized arm had clearly pinched something it shouldn't have. Tony's face was twisted in a grimace, but the moment he saw Kael, he straightened his back and smoothed his expression.
"Get your balls caught in the gears, Tony?" Kael asked, his voice echoing in the metallic lab.
"...No. It's just a custom fit. Needs a few micro-adjustments," Tony grunted, masking his embarrassment.
Kael stepped forward to admire the suit. The Mark III was a piece of industrial art—sleek, aggressive, and undeniably Stark.
"It looks good, but isn't it a bit... tight?" Kael asked. "One dent in that plating and you're going to have structural failure against your own ribs. How are you handling the kinetic dampening and heat dissipation in such a small frame?"
Tony raised a smug chin. "Beg me, and I'll tell you."
"I beg you," Kael said instantly, his "Technical Genius" hunger overriding his pride.
Tony blinked, his smirk faltering. Where is the professional ego? he wondered. Forced to pay for his loose tongue, he spent a few minutes explaining the revolutionary dampening tech.
"Alright, give me the drive," Tony said, cutting himself off before he gave away the crown jewels.
Kael handed over the USB. "Learning from you is always a pleasure, my idol."
Tony sat at his terminal and began reviewing the evidence. His face grew solemn, his eyes cold as he watched the betrayal of his mentor laid bare in high-definition data.
Kael, meanwhile, was staring at the original Arc Reactor sitting in its display case. "The glow of cold fusion... it's the most beautiful thing in this city."
"You want the tech?" Tony asked, noticing the look in Kael's eyes.
"It's the holy grail of energy, Tony. Who wouldn't?"
"That specific one stays here," Tony said, taking the reactor back. "It's a gift. But... Stark Industries is going to need smart, capable leads for the new Energy Department. I'm going to need people who can handle the power."
Kael smiled. He understood. Tony was offering him a seat at the table—and eventually, a copy of the specs.
"Get some rest, Kael," Tony said, already dialing Rhodey. "Your 'vacation' ends the moment the handcuffs click on Stane."
Arc Reactor Project: Sector 16.
Obadiah Stane stood before the Iron Monger prototype. It was a hulking, massive beast of steel, but it was hollow. His best engineers were idiots; they couldn't replicate the miniature reactor. Without it, the suit was just a multi-ton iron coffin.
The unease in Obadiah's chest was a cold weight. He hadn't seen evidence of a leak, but his instincts told him the walls were closing in. "I can't wait. If I can't build the heart, I'll rip it out of Tony's chest tonight."
He stepped toward the exit, his mind set on murder. But the door hissed open first, and he found himself staring down the barrel of a dozen military rifles.
Rhodey stepped forward. Before Obadiah could even utter a greeting, a heavy punch to the solar plexus doubled the old man over.
"Tony sent you, didn't he?" Obadiah gasped, propped against the wall as soldiers stripped him of his hidden gadgets and comms.
"You'll see Tony," Rhodey said, his voice cold. "But you're going to be looking through reinforced glass from now on."
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