"Stark loves you!"
Locke stared at the small, big-headed toy robot in front of him, its oversized grin and childish voice looping endlessly as it repeated the phrase. The thing was oddly delicate, almost cute in a manufactured way, but something about it rubbed him the wrong way. He stood there for a moment longer than necessary, eyes narrowed, as if trying to read between the lines of a joke that wasn't meant to be funny.
Right now, he was inside the Stark Industries Expo, although calling it an "expo" felt inaccurate. The place had evolved into something far stranger—a full-blown robotics theme park. Every direction he looked, there were machines moving, chirping, performing, designed to impress and entertain rather than intimidate.
In simpler terms, Stark had gone off the rails.
The man had developed agricultural robots clearly labeled with warnings like "Do not modify into combat units," which only made Locke more suspicious. There were novelty robots too, like this oversized toy chanting corporate propaganda, along with cleaning bots shaped like sleek trash cans and elegant housekeeping models that looked almost too refined to be machines.
Then there were the heavy-duty units—mining robots, exploration rigs, deep-sea constructs—each one powerful, precise, and again stamped with the same ridiculous disclaimer: civilian use only, no modifications allowed.
Locke wasn't buying it.
In his mind, Stark had simply found a clever workaround. Weapons manufacturing might have been bad PR, but nothing stopped you from disguising those same capabilities under a civilian label. Sell the blade as a kitchen knife, and no one questions it—until it's too late.
Still, something didn't add up.
After the cave incident, Stark was supposed to have changed. That near-death experience should have burned the recklessness out of him. He should've stepped onto the path of a true hero. So why was he drifting back into something that smelled exactly like arms dealing?
That question was the whole reason Locke had brought Ethan along.
Deep down, he still wanted Stark to be the real deal—a genuine hero, someone who stood for something more than profit and ego. Because if Stark was sincere, then he'd be predictable. And predictable people were the easiest to manipulate.
Before long, they found him.
Stark had arranged a private gathering to welcome high-profile guests, and the atmosphere was loud, indulgent, and borderline excessive. Locke wore a finely crafted half-mask, keeping his identity subdued. It looked slightly out of place, but it did its job—no whispers, no crowd forming around him.
Blonde waitresses in bunny outfits and black stockings weaved through the room, balancing trays and smiling professionally. The music was loud enough to swallow most conversations, and at the center of it all stood Stark himself.
He had one arm wrapped around a striking red-haired woman, laughing loudly as if the world revolved around him.
Locke's gaze shifted immediately.
Pepper Potts sat alone on a couch off to the side, posture composed but expression distant. The contrast between her quiet isolation and Stark's flamboyant display couldn't have been sharper.
Locke gave Ethan a light push on the shoulder. "Go talk to him."
Ethan didn't hesitate. His jaw was already tight with anger, and the moment he stepped forward, it was clear he wasn't there for small talk.
Locke, meanwhile, grabbed a small cake from the bar and made his way toward Pepper.
She noticed him immediately, surprise flickering across her face. "Would you like some cake?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Locke."
She recognized him, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. It was strained, practiced.
Locke followed her gaze toward Stark, then shrugged lightly. "What happened? How did he turn back into this kind of guy?"
Pepper exhaled slowly, the bitterness slipping through despite her composure. "I don't know. I'm not even the CEO anymore. And… he's not the same. Something changed."
Locke frowned slightly.
Across the room, Ethan and Stark were already arguing. Ethan's face flushed red with frustration, and within seconds, he stormed off, clearly furious. Stark, on the other hand, simply laughed and pulled the model closer, completely unfazed.
Then his eyes shifted.
He spotted Locke.
The shift was immediate. The playful grin faded, replaced by something sharper. He pushed the woman aside and strode over.
Locke tilted his head slightly, voice low. "If I knock his teeth out in a minute, you won't blame me, right?"
Pepper blinked, confused. "What?"
Stark arrived in front of them, smirking. "Well, well. If it isn't our great hero. What brings you to my humble little show?"
The music drowned most of his words, sparing them unwanted attention.
Locke studied him for a moment, then spoke calmly. "Ever thought about joining the Avengers? I'll make you captain."
Stark froze briefly before laughing. "I told you already—you can't afford me."
"Talking money while claiming to be a hero? That's just sad," Locke replied evenly. "Remember what I asked you before? What do you actually want to be?"
Stark snorted, stepping between Locke and Pepper as if claiming territory. "Life's short. I'm here to enjoy it. That's all that matters."
"So you're fine going back to selling weapons? Letting the world burn a little more?"
Stark's smile sharpened. "Careful. That sounds like defamation. Everything I sell is civilian tech. Clean, legal. And bigger than that—I'm about to change the world. Energy, AI, industry. They'll write about me in textbooks. Build statues."
Locke turned his head slightly, voice steady. "Sounds less like a revolution and more like the beginning of a war."
"You worry too much."
Locke didn't respond immediately.
Instead, he watched him.
There it was—that subtle shift. The arrogance, the detachment. Stark wasn't just drifting. He'd already crossed the line.
The question now wasn't whether Stark was dangerous. It was how dangerous he'd be allowed to become.
Locke's thoughts began to spiral inward, calculating.
Chaos had its benefits. Every major crisis had pushed him higher, faster. Without demonic invasions, without men like Obadiah or entities like Mephisto, he wouldn't have risen this quickly. Conflict created opportunity.
But there were limits.
Small wars? Manageable.
Global instability? Useful.
But nuclear war? That was a reset button.
And Locke had no interest in starting over.
Unless…
His eyes narrowed slightly.
If he could push his own power even higher—far beyond its current threshold—then even a worst-case scenario might become manageable. His mind drifted toward two things: the nuclear weapon stored in the Absolute Zero Zone, and the Beast Horn he'd acquired earlier.
If he moved early… if he executed the plan now…
The results could be explosive.
Still, caution mattered. He'd need to inform the Ancient One first. If things spiraled out of control, she'd be the only one capable of containing the fallout.
As for Stark…
Locke's lips curved slightly.
Contingency plans would be necessary. Multiple ones.
After Locke left, Stark lingered only a moment before glancing at Pepper with a cold expression. He snorted, called over Happy, and walked away.
At the top floor of Stark Tower, everything changed.
"Jarvis. Seal the building. Curtains down."
The room dimmed instantly.
"Now… initiate the Babel Project."
A blue glow flooded the space as a massive holographic screen unfolded before him. One by one, profiles appeared—every Avenger, every known ally, every potential threat.
Abilities. Personalities. Weaknesses.
And most importantly—methods of elimination.
Cyclops. Ambush tactics. Emotional leverage.
Wolverine. Chemical suppression. Containment strategies. Extreme disposal scenarios.
Each entry was thorough, methodical, ruthless.
And at the top of the list—
Locke.
His profile dominated the display. Power sets, behavioral patterns, combat analysis—all compiled in meticulous detail.
But beneath it…
Nothing.
No kill method.
No viable strategy.
Stark frowned. "Jarvis. Why is there no plan for him?"
"Target is highly unstable. Abilities evolve rapidly. Data becomes obsolete. No reliable method can be generated."
Stark's expression darkened. "What about psychological angles?"
"Eight approaches calculated. All have high failure probability."
He skimmed the list—and immediately froze.
The first suggestion:
Honey trap. Target shows potential interest in Pepper Potts—
"JARVIS!"
"I'm sorry, sir. I do not understand."
"Remove Pepper from that list. Immediately."
"Yes, sir."
Stark exhaled slowly, irritation flashing across his face. He stared at Locke's empty kill-field for a long moment, then something clicked.
If he couldn't defeat him directly…
He didn't have to.
There were plenty of others who would be more than happy to try.
A slow smile crept across his face.
"I can…"
....
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