Minutes of probing and carefully worded questions led to confirmation—Tony had successfully miniaturized the arc reactor.
It was real. It worked.
And Obadiah knew exactly what it meant.
Power.
But he didn't push. Not yet. Tony was too guarded to surrender his secrets easily. For now, it was enough to play the role of trusted advisor—keep Tony distracted, isolated, and pliable.
"Leave it to me," Obadiah said, patting Tony's shoulder. "Just stay home for now, okay? Let me handle the fallout."
Tony gave a reluctant nod, already turning back to his tinkering.
Obadiah's eyes lingered on the reactor one last time before he left, gears turning.
….
Meanwhile, at the Malibu Mansion…
Tony and Pepper arrived home, chatting as they stepped through the door.
The sound of movement upstairs caught their attention.
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Still in the shower?"
Pepper cleared her throat, looking everywhere but at him. "Maybe a bath? Nothing weird about wanting to relax after everything we've been through."
She held up a shopping bag filled with clothes. "I got him some new outfits. Took a while, but I think he'll like them."
Tony shrugged and headed toward the basement. "Good. Once he's out, I need to talk to him. Something important."
He disappeared down the stairs, leaving Pepper to glance toward the bathroom.
Lemu finally got out of the bathroom, now dressed in proper clothes—white short sleeves and light-blue shorts.
The return to men's fashion lifted his spirits instantly.
He tied his long, pale-blue hair into a loose ponytail, adding an almost effortless sharpness to his look. The transformation didn't go unnoticed—Pepper's gaze lingered a little too long.
"Looks good on you," she said, hiding a smile.
Lemu stretched, enjoying the freedom of movement. He had no plans to revisit the skirt incident—not in this lifetime.
But whether he'd toss it or stash it as a memento? That decision remained a secret.
….
While Tony rummaged through old blueprints in the basement, Lemu and Pepper settled into the living room.
The giant TV still played the same news channel Lemu had left on earlier.
Onscreen, a balding, middle-aged host with the energy of a street vendor was practically screaming at his audience.
"SELL! SELL EVERYTHING!"
The host flailed his arms, his voice climbing higher with every word.
"Does anyone remember the Hindenburg disaster?!"
The footage cut to black-and-white images of the 1937 airship engulfed in flames, collapsing in seconds.
"THIS—" the host shouted, smashing a ceramic cup onto the floor for emphasis—"is exactly what's happening to Stark Industries! A weapons company that doesn't make weapons! The joke writes itself!"
Pepper sat hunched over her laptop, scrolling through the plunging stock charts while the TV blared more bad news about Stark Industries. It was a two-pronged attack—visual and auditory—and both were equally painful.
Tony had told her earlier, almost casually, that he had perfected the miniaturized arc reactor—a technology that could make billions.
But could Stark Industries survive long enough to see that future?
Tony's abrupt decision to shut down the weapons division had blindsided everyone. The board, the shareholders, even Pepper herself—no one had been prepared. And now he refused to announce his breakthrough technology, opting instead to "wait for the right moment."
Pepper rubbed her temples, thinking, He's playing with fire.
Not only was Tony acting recklessly, but it was clear he wanted to ride this chaos for publicity—making waves so that when his new tech finally hit the market, it would hit hard.
If, of course, the flames didn't consume him first.
Meanwhile, Lemu lounged on the couch, completely unfazed by the apocalyptic tone of the news anchors.
Surrounded by snacks—chips, jerky, crackers, and even a packet of spicy sticks—he was deep in his own personal heaven.
To him, this was nothing more than noise. He already knew how this story ended—Tony Stark would rise from the ashes, don his iconic armor, and send Stark Industries' stock soaring.
All Lemu had to do was make sure Tony didn't die before then.
Not just for benefits and profits, either. After trudging through the desert together, Lemu supposed they were…like you know… sort of friends now.
And he still owed Tony a favor for letting him stay at the mansion.
As for Obadiah Stane?
Lemu crushed a cracker between his fingers, the satisfying snap echoing in the room.
Obadiah might've been a threat in the original timeline, but with everything Lemu had in his arsenal—from Great Sage's abilities to the billions he'd already invested—taking him down wouldn't be too hard.
That said, completely ignoring him wasn't an option either.
Lemu had already stirred up too many ripples in this timeline.
What if Tony slipped in the shower? Or choked on a burger? Or tripped on a loose wire?
In the original timeline, Tony barely scraped by during his fight with Obadiah. It wouldn't take much to derail history—and that meant Lemu's investments could burn along with it.
No.
This wasn't about clinging to a set timeline. It was about profit and future.
Anything beneficial could be preserved or even reinforced. Anything detrimental? Removed.
….
The question lingered in Lemu's mind—how to deal with Obadiah Stane?
If memory serves, Stane's computer in the Stark Industries executive office contained everything needed to sink him—emails, contracts, and payment records linking him to the Ten Rings terrorists.
But exposing that evidence right now would be catastrophic.
Stark Industries was already teetering after Tony's announcement. Throwing a scandal about arms smuggling and assassination attempts into the mix?
The company wouldn't survive the fallout.
And if Stark Industries collapsed, so would Lemu's investments.
He snapped another cracker in half, his eyes cold.
Worst case scenario? Assassination.
Lemu wasn't squeamish about the idea. If it came down to it, removing Stane would be quick and efficient.
But Tony needed Stane—needed him as the stepping stone to becoming Iron Man.
Without that confrontation, Tony might never embrace the role of a superhero. And while the arc reactor tech could still make billions, nothing would skyrocket Stark Industries' value more than the public unveiling of Tony Stark as Iron Man.
Lemu tossed the last piece of jerky into his mouth, mulling it over.
Stane had to stay alive—for now.
"I could adopt you, you know."
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