At this point, Tony Stark had no intention of handing off control of his company like William did. Having yet to experience a true brush with death, Tony's worldview was still centered entirely on himself and his profits.
Fortunately, William had never shown the slightest interest in venturing into the arms industry. So, even though Stark didn't like him, there was no real hatred between them.
When Bruce Banner suggested focusing on mech development, Stark had already been considering it—ever since he saw the anti–Transformers battle armor.
The miniaturized arc reactor design had been circling in his mind for days. But as a businessman, Stark was always thinking about maximizing profits. So even if he had a working prototype, he wasn't about to reveal it just yet.
After all, he only owned 28% of Stark Industries. Why give the other shareholders a free windfall?
And war—especially in the desert regions—showed no sign of ending. If anything, it seemed to be escalating.
That meant defense contracts were incredibly lucrative. Orders were rolling in nonstop. Military stocks were more sought after than pharmaceutical or tech stocks.
That's how, in less than seven years, Stark Industries had tripled in value to over $300 billion.
If Stark unveiled a weapon that could end wars overnight, it would tank his company's value. But if the wars dragged on another few years, reaching $500 billion would be no problem.
So he planned to hold off unveiling the mini arc reactor until the day peace was officially declared.
When that day came, he'd mortgage part of his stock for a huge pile of cash. The moment the wars ended and military profits dried up, stock prices would tumble—possibly by more than half.
Then he'd buy back tons of shares on the cheap, increasing his stake and solidifying his control over the company.
After a few months of decline, he'd announce a breakthrough in clean energy tech. Whether he held onto it or used it to buy in further, the stock would soar again.
That was the plan.
And with such a plan, there was no way he'd build a prototype now and risk the design leaking.
"Sir, your private helicopter is being instructed to land at a designated zone. You and Dr. Banner should prepare to depart," Jarvis reminded.
Stark chuckled and said to Bruce, "Let's go grab some breakfast. On the way, we can talk about whether you'd be open to taking on a few research projects under the radar—earn a bit of running money, and avoid falling behind the times."
"Oh god... I'm on the run here. I don't exactly have the peace of mind to conduct stable research. Is this even appropriate?"
Bruce was clearly tempted—he'd already felt the sting of being broke on the run. But he was worried about dragging Stark into trouble.
"What's inappropriate about it?" Tony grinned. "I'll open a shell account for you in some offshore haven, and let the kind of people who specialize in delicate problems handle the transfers.
Sure, you might lose half the cash along the way. But let's be honest—ten grand or five grand makes no difference to you, right?"
Bruce blinked, then smiled bitterly. "Forget five grand—even five hundred would be enough to live decently for a year or two."
"Then it's settled. Let's move."
As they entered the elevator, Stark said to Jarvis, "Send cease-and-desist letters to Ross and whoever ordered my helicopter grounded. And tell that three-star general's boss—if he wants to drop this, he can come talk to me himself."
"Yes, sir."
Bruce sighed. Rich people had it so much easier.
Tony seemed to read his thoughts and shrugged. "Buddy, if I don't make an example out of these clowns, it'll be open season on me. Every jerk with a badge will come knocking.
And I'd rather spend my time chatting with supermodels than dodging bureaucrats. So... someone else has to take the hit."
Bruce laughed. "Guess I'm not cut out to be a capitalist."
"Then do what you do best. Let me handle the capitalist stuff."
They descended into the underground garage. One of Stark's sports cars roared out first, its engine howling as it sped off.
Thirty seconds later, Jarvis reported that the car had a tail. With the trap sprung, Stark and Bruce casually strolled out and climbed into the dented Cadillac Blonsky had punched earlier.
Sitting inside, Bruce shook his head. "You gain some, you lose some. Even billionaires have to be careful. Still... how the hell did you plan this so perfectly?"
Tony smirked. "So, you want to be rich or broke?"
Bruce winced. "Right... forget I asked."
Stark chuckled, "It's not like I do any of the actual planning. Jarvis handles all the logistics and gives me the safest plan. I just follow it."
As their convoy pulled away from Stark Tower, the decoy helicopter also returned to its landing pad.
When Blonsky arrived and inspected the cabin, he found it empty—and was furious. But all he could do was report to Ross.
Back at base, Ross wanted to strangle Stark—but knew he couldn't touch him.
"Forget it," he said, sighing. "Return to the New York base with the Hulk's blood sample. I'll handle the rest."
He tried calling Tony again—only to get voicemail.
"Damn that Stark. Doesn't want to be a playboy anymore—now he's testing everyone's patience."
With the Hulk's escape, a military plane crash in downtown New York, and dozens of casualties, Ross knew he was in deep trouble.
Bringing Hulk back was the cleanest way to save his own skin. The other option was turning Blonsky into an equivalent-level powerhouse.
But Hulk's rampage had been too violent and erratic. Ross didn't want to rush that injection unless he had no choice.
He'd rather study the sample first, maybe even replicate it. What he and his superiors wanted most wasn't one super soldier—it was an army of them.
But while Ross wanted to take his time, someone else was thrilled by the news.
Though Ross's preparations for the Decepticons were done in secret, the scale of his troop and equipment movements made them hard to hide.
Just four hours later, at 8 a.m., while Ross was meeting with Obadiah Stane—Stark Industries' second-largest shareholder—he received an order to return for debriefing.
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