New York, outskirts.
The night was as thick as molten asphalt. A stretch limousine tore through the curtain of night, its headlights dragging red tails across the damp asphalt.
"I'm not just saying this, Tony, but your father was an old lunatic back in the day."
Sitting in the driver's seat, Obadiah Stane held a cigar in his mouth, smiling as he spoke to Tony in the back seat.
"I remember when you were a month old, he built you a mechanical arm that sang lullabies, until that thing twisted your milk bottle into a pretzel. You cried louder than a reactor overload."
Obadiah laughed heartily as he spoke.
Tony Stark looked out the car window absentmindedly and replied casually, "Yeah, I bet that scene was definitely interesting."
"You can say that again." A look of reminiscence appeared in Obadiah's eyes. "Thinking about it now, that was actually decades ago. Time really is a cruel butcher, wouldn't you say, Tony?"
Tony remained casual: "Mm."
"It feels like just the blink of an eye, and you're already this big."
Obadiah let out a long breath, a transparent smoke ring rising. He rolled down the window, and the night wind wrapped in smoke rushed toward the road.
"You know, Tony, I watched you grow up. You designing your first circuit board, your first day of school, driving for the first time..."
Obadiah seemed a bit emotional at this point, patting the steering wheel with his palm.
"You should know, to me, you're just like my own son, right Tony?"
"Alright Obie, keep talking and it's going to get cheesy."
Tony said, while adding in his mind: If it weren't for you wanting to kill me, take my company, my armor, and my fortune, maybe we could look a bit more like a loving father and filial son.
The car began to slow down. Tony looked out at the desolate suburbs and said, "This isn't the way to your villa, Obie."
The car stopped.
Obadiah turned off the engine, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
"No, it isn't."
He got out of the car. Tony also stepped out.
The uncle and nephew stood there in the night, face to face, silent for a long time.
"You know, if I had a choice, Tony—I really wish I had a choice..."
Obadiah looked up, shaking his head with regret.
"I really, really, didn't want it to come to this."
Did he have no feelings for Tony Stark, this nephew he watched grow up step by step? Of course that was impossible.
Every word he said was true. From the moment this talented child was born, Obadiah had been watching him. Watching him grow, watching him take charge, watching him use his innate talent to build the empire of Stark Industries into something even stronger.
He could look Tony in the eye and tell him with the most sincere emotion: You are like my son. Because he really thought so.
Of course...
Obadiah looked directly into Tony's eyes, killing intent revealing itself.
He had also seriously decided now: he was going to kill Tony.
"For so many years, you can't imagine how much I've given to this company, to Stark Industries, Tony."
Obadiah said gloomily.
"I contact officials, deal with the military, handle public relations, and all those messes you aren't willing to deal with yourself."
"While you indulge in alcohol, beauties, and play around the world all day, it was ME! I kept this company on track, I made this company thrive. But in the end, everything is yours! Why?"
Obadiah got more agitated as he spoke.
"Just because your last name is Stark!?"
Tony tilted his head, seemingly thinking about this question seriously, then answered: "That's a very important factor. But I think it's probably also because I'm handsome, charming, and a super genius..."
Obadiah frowned.
He had shown his hand to Tony. He lured Tony to this ambush point he set up and bared his greedy fangs, but the other party's reaction was completely different from what he imagined.
Tony was a bit too calm. It was as if he wasn't sad or surprised by his uncle's betrayal, nor did he seem to care about the life-and-death crisis he was facing.
"Enough."
Obadiah raised his hands high above his head and clapped three times forcefully.
"Come out."
He hired a group of mercenaries, the most professional team, positioned here in advance. These people would ensure Tony Stark died here, and dispose of the body cleanly.
And besides wanting the assets and the entire Stark Industries, more importantly, Obadiah wanted the Arc Reactor in Tony's chest. Because Obadiah's own so-called idiot experts swore to him that building such a reactor was impossible; that technology hadn't been born yet.
Only Tony Stark in the world could build such a thing. Obadiah couldn't replicate it, so he decided to just steal the finished product.
However, after three claps, nothing happened.
Obadiah maintained his pose with hands raised, standing there on the empty wasteland.
A cold wind blew past, and the atmosphere became slightly awkward.
Obadiah, as if in disbelief, raised his hands and clapped three times again.
Opposite him, Tony yawned lazily: "No rush, Obie. Try a few more times. Maybe next time you'll get lucky?"
Obadiah lowered his hands with a dark face.
Now, no matter how obtuse he was, he should realize that his operation had somehow been exposed in advance. Tony must have come here earlier and already dealt with the mercenary squad he set up.
He knew Tony had that flashy armor; it was the unique, top-tier individual combat weapon in the world right now. For Tony, taking out a squad of fully armed mercenaries was as easy as walking a dog.
Obadiah's expression was gloomy for two seconds, but then he laughed loudly.
"I admit, for a moment you really surprised me, Tony. You're more capable than I remember."
As Obadiah spoke, he slowly took out two special earplugs from his pocket and stuffed them into his ears. A second later, his right thumb was already on the button of the neural paralyzer in his pocket.
It was one of the weapons produced by Stark Industries, but failed to get government production approval. It could instantly release high-frequency sound waves, directly interfering with the human nervous system, causing the target to lose mobility within seconds, or even fall into a coma.
"But like I taught you, Tony," Obadiah sneered, "Always have a backup plan."
He pulled the trigger of the neural paralyzer.
Then he waited for three seconds. Still, nothing happened.
Tony still stood there lazily, looking like nothing was wrong.
But how was this possible?
The neural paralyzer could instantly paralyze anyone; he used this move to take out a small leader of the Ten Rings terrorist organization he collaborated with. This thing failed approval because it involved some humanitarian issues.
How could it be ineffective?
"Forget it. How does that old saying go? If you want something done right..."
Obadiah pulled out a handgun directly and pointed it at Tony's head.
"...you have to do it yourself."
Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
But the bullet did not penetrate Tony's skull as expected.
In the air less than a centimeter from Tony's forehead, the bullet seemed to hit an invisible wall. Sparks flew, the metal warhead deformed instantly, and then ricocheted off some invisible surface.
The ricocheted bullet grazed Obadiah's own shoulder, and blood immediately soaked his expensive custom suit.
"Argh—!" Obadiah staggered back, clutching his shoulder, the expression on his face changing from ferocity to incredulous horror. He stared dead at Tony, his voice trembling with shock: "No... Impossible! What the hell is this?!"
Tony still stood in place, not even a hair out of place.
In the air, a layer of nearly transparent ripples slowly emerged, flowing like water, gradually outlining the silhouette of a suit of armor. Dark silver armor faded its camouflage like a living creature, covering Tony's body from head to toe. On the faceplate, the eyes lit up with cold blue light.
"Stealth armor. Like it?"
Tony's voice was processed by the armor, carrying a mechanical coldness.
Obadiah slowly opened his mouth, as if the pain from his self-inflicted wound was numbed by shock.
Because he realized where Tony's confidence came from. From beginning to end, Tony had been wearing this armor. It was just that because of that ridiculous, almost fairy-tale stealth technology, the armor was invisible, and he had been looking at Tony hidden inside the armor the whole time.
"Tony, oh Tony..." Obadiah muttered. "How many times are you going to shock me..."
Stark Technology had always possessed the most advanced technology and weapons, allowing them to maintain a monopoly in the arms industry in this century. Obadiah knew better than anyone that most of this was due to this genius, Tony.
And just when he thought that was Tony's limit, Tony hand-built a reactor in a broken cave with a pile of trash and scraps, dropping his jaw once again.
And just when Obadiah thought he was numb to it and would no longer be shocked by Tony's genius, here came this scene.
Stealth technology.
There were rumors in the industry that the world's top Quinjets could carry this stealth technology, but only Quinjets—and that was top-tier technology still in the experimental stage.
As for making an individual combat system invisible? Or even making just the armor invisible while keeping the wearer visible?
Based on Obadiah's understanding of the current military industry, he felt this could hardly be called technology anymore.
It was a miracle.
Obadiah pressed on the wound that was still gushing blood and lay back on the ground. The damp, cold air filled his lungs, making him cold all over.
"Oh Tony, Tony..." He looked absently at the starry sky. "You just never... never willing to let your old uncle win even once, are you?"
Tony stepped forward, reaching out his hand toward Obadiah lying on the ground. Fingers spread, the arc in his palm emitted a deadly cold light.
Obadiah Stane closed his eyes.
Images of his life flashed before his eyes. Walking hand in hand with Howard Stark, leading the company to its peak. Tony's birth, Howard's death, ambition and desire beginning to swell.
He lost.
But at least he tried.
He didn't regret it.
Shoom.
Iron Man's palm Repulsor Blast pierced his heart.
"Be careful... Tony." Obadiah said with his last breath. "I'm not... the only one... who wants to kill you..."
He couldn't finish his sentence.
He stopped breathing.