The Ghost-1's display focused and scanned the area a few times before locking onto Stark's Mark II—now plummeting in freefall.
Something had gone wrong.
Inside the suit, Stark's vision was completely black. Sensors were down, J.A.R.V.I.S. wasn't responding, and panic started to creep in.
The Mark II's exterior had been coated in a thick layer of ice, likely due to freezing temperatures, causing its electronic systems to shut down.
Damn it! Was he about to crash and die? No, no, not yet… He still had time—if only he could shatter the ice!
Lemu caught up and hovered beside the falling Mark II.
Raising a hand, he knocked twice on Stark's frozen helmet.
"Need some help?"
The wind roared around them. With the comms down, Lemu could barely make out Stark's muffled voice through the suit's frozen layers.
"…I…can't…@#%…&*…"
"All right, I can't hear a word you're saying—but I think you need help!"
Lemu shouted as he delivered a powerful kick to the Mark II.
Inside the suit, Stark's mind reeled. What the hell?! I don't care what you think—I care what I think!
With a loud clang, the Mark II was sent flying over ten meters. The sudden impact delivered a crushing G-force, leaving Stark feeling like he'd just been hit by a truck. He nearly coughed up blood.
Fortunately, the vibrations from the collision rippled through the armor, shattering the thick layer of ice.
As the temperature gradually rose, the holographic interface in Stark's helmet flickered before coming back online.
Narrowly escaping death, Stark let out an exhilarated cheer. He accelerated again, soaring through the sky in a sweeping arc, laughing wildly.
"Ahahahaha!!"
After burning off their adrenaline, the two eventually returned to Stark's mansion.
When they landed on the rooftop, the Mark II's excessive weight caused it to crash straight through two floors. With a thunderous boom, it finally came to a halt in the underground garage—completely flattening a sleek sports car beneath it.
Meanwhile, Lemu's Ghost-1 descended gently through the gaping hole Stark had made, landing gracefully.
A burst of laughter came from Lemu as his voice rang out through the comms.
"That's it?!"
Sprawled on the floor, Stark stared blankly at the ceiling, unable to make sense of what had just happened. He raised an armored hand and pointed accusingly at the Ghost-1.
"Why didn't your suit freeze? And it looks… lighter than mine?"
Lemu tilted his head slightly, as if the answer was obvious.
"I used gold-titanium alloy as the primary material. Also, maybe consider adding an emergency parachute next time? Might save your life."
"Oh, sure! Of course! Great idea—" Stark waved a hand dismissively before narrowing his eyes. "But let's talk about the important part first. I don't stockpile gold-titanium alloy in my workshop. So… where exactly did you get the money to buy it?"
"Uh… about that…" Lemu's voice faltered. "I can explain…"
Inside the Workshop
The two sat facing each other across a small table in the underground lab.
Stark had already removed the Mark II and was pressing an ice pack to his forehead. He looked worse for wear after his earlier tumble.
Lemu, meanwhile, sipped water absentmindedly, his thoughts as cold and unsettled as the drink in his hands. He was already plotting how to talk his way out of this situation.
Gold-titanium alloy wasn't exactly cheap, and as a "newcomer" to Earth, where was he supposed to have found the money to buy it?
I can't exactly tell him I funded this by hacking dirty money off the internet… No way he'll buy that.
Although Lemu firmly believed that skimming dirty money off criminals could technically be classified as combating illegal activities—and might even count as private enforcement—using personal methods to punish wrongdoers and repurpose their funds for personal survival wasn't exactly legal.
Then again, in America, laws could be bent if one had enough money.
Stark rubbed his eyes, which were starting to bruise, then peered at Lemu with his good eye.
"So… have you come up with a story yet? I'm really looking forward to hearing what you've got. No rush—take your time."
"J.A.R.V.I.S., order a batch of gold-titanium alloy from Cisco," Stark said casually, still holding an ice pack to his forehead. "We'll need it for the Mark III…"
As he spoke, he picked up a folder sitting on the table.
"What's this?"
J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice responded with its usual smooth and measured tone, calm no matter the situation.
"Mr. Stark, that's a report submitted by Ms. Potts regarding Stark Industries' stock performance. Ms. Potts suspects that malicious capital may be quietly acquiring shares of Stark Industries."
Stark flipped through the report, his brow furrowing.
According to the data, ever since he had announced the closure of Stark Industries' weapons manufacturing division, an unknown source had been steadily buying up shares in small, repeated batches—buying without ever selling.
Pepper estimated that at least 15% of the company's shares had already been consolidated under a single entity.
In a healthy public company, the typical percentage of floating shares ranged from 25% to 40%. For Stark Industries, it was 36%.
With 15% of shares already locked up, it was nearing half of the available floating stock.
This sudden activity had even caused Stark Industries' stock, which had been plummeting, to stabilize and rise slightly over the past few days.
In the midst of widespread panic selling, no matter how carefully the unknown buyer operated, Pepper had still managed to catch traces of their activity.
After all, she was a top-tier business school graduate—and had spent years working closely with Stark.
Stark's eyes remained glued to the report, but his gaze seemed unfocused.
Let me guess… Who's trying to screw me this time?
First, rule out Obadiah—too obvious. But the rest of the board members? Definitely suspicious.
Or maybe it's external? That clown, Justin Hammer? Or possibly the government and military—they weren't too happy about me shutting down weapons production. Could they be making their move?
Lemu downed the last of his water, slamming the cup onto the table with a clang.
Then, without hesitation, he reached out and tapped the file in Stark's hands.
"Fine. I'll come clean."
He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms.
"That report you're holding? Yeah… That was me."