"What's your name?"
"Happy Hogan, Mr. Stark."
On the top floor of Stark Tower, at a helipad that juts from the main building, security chief Happy Hogan stood a bit stiffly while Tony Stark poured drinks behind the indoor bar.
"Happy, I don't want strangers crashing my parties ever again."
"Sorry, Mr. Stark."
Head bowed, Happy apologized. He felt like he was about to be fired—but also sensed it wouldn't be that simple. Tony Stark was always above it all; he wouldn't personally handle sacking a head of security.
"But I've got to admit, that guy you let up yesterday… let's put it this way: I'd spend two hundred million dollars to buy what's in his head."
"The AI model he gave me is a half-finished product, but it's epoch-making… The tech is very mature. I strongly suspect he's got plenty more ideas like it."
Tony carried two glasses of a brown liquor Happy had never even heard of out to the helipad and handed him one.
Awkward, Happy took the glass, a little dazed as he looked at his boss. He suddenly remembered what that Peter Parker he'd waved through had said yesterday:
"…I promise you won't just be head of security anymore starting today, because I brought tech that can double Stark Industries' market cap."
A spark of hope flickered in Happy's chest—then Tony abruptly changed tack:
"Happy, what did you do before this?"
"Professional boxer, sir."
"Can you drive?"
"Yes, sir."
Tony clinked his glass against Happy's and downed it. "I met him thanks half to you, so… congratulations. As of today, you're my bodyguard and driver."
"If you'd rather not, see that cabinet? There's a stack of bank cards in the drawer. Take a few—or all of them. PINs are on the backs."
Between a guaranteed high-paying job and an unknown amount on bank cards, Happy didn't take long to choose. "Bodyguard and driver, of course. When do I start, Mr. Stark?"
"The next second."
Happy laughed, tossed back the drink, and felt pleasantly woozy—as if everything since yesterday wasn't quite real.
He should have stopped Peter Parker, but the kid's confidence and pitch won him over. He'd regretted it later, afraid he'd be canned. But the man hadn't lied, and Happy's fate flipped on a single decision to wave him through.
"JARVIS," Tony said, patting Happy's shoulder as he headed back inside. "You know what to do."
Happy blinked. He didn't realize being a bodyguard required a name change, but the voice in the room made it clear Tony hadn't been talking to him.
"Yes, sir. I've updated Happy Hogan's file to list him as your personal bodyguard and driver, and purchased a residence in Harlem valued at $3.195 million as well as a vehicle appropriate to his position."
"A reminder, sir: you have a guest to receive this afternoon. Shall I order a lavish dinner for you?"
Snap!
"No problem," Tony said.
Happy didn't really hear the bit about a guest or dinner—nor was he shocked by how smart "JARVIS" was. His head rang with just one line: "a residence valued at $3.195 million and a vehicle."
He knew perfectly well a non-specialist bodyguard wasn't worth that. What was valuable was the tech Peter Parker had brought.
Walking in from the helipad, he looked around Tony's private top floor, feeling pretty proud of yesterday's call. Passing the cabinet, he couldn't help asking:
"Mr. Stark, how much money is in there?"
Afraid Tony would take it the wrong way, he hurried to add, "Just curious."
"There are over sixty cards from different banks. Altogether… about forty million dollars," Tony said, not looking up from his workbench. "You passed up a chance at forty million, Happy."
Happy chuckled and shook his head. He could tell his boss was teasing. "I'm guessing it's too late to regret it now?"
"Of course," Tony said.
"So… what exactly did that Peter Parker bring you?" Happy couldn't hold back his curiosity.
"Tech that can double Stark Industries' market cap," Tony said. "Alright, Happy—go downstairs and get ready to receive Peter Parker. I'm guessing he's almost here."
…
On Stark Tower's ground floor, Batman—plaid shirt on—ran into Happy stepping out of the elevator.
"Congratulations."
Happy was floored by Batman's first words. "You already knew? I haven't said a thing!"
Batman stepped into the elevator and pointed at the mirror-bright wall.
Puzzled, Happy checked his reflection and noticed the grin tugging his lips up past control. He got it. "That obvious?"
"No good. As Mr. Stark's bodyguard and driver, I've got to learn facial discipline."
Ignoring Happy slipping into character, Batman stepped out as the elevator reached the top floor.
"How long did it take?" he asked without preamble.
"JARVIS?" Tony rose from the workbench.
"Twenty-seven hours and one minute, sir," JARVIS answered.
Tony spread his hands. "You win—though I did spend a pleasant three hours with Vogue's latest cover model in the middle. How much do I owe you in 'consulting fees'?"
"That depends—how far do you think this tech can be applied?" Batman countered.
He couldn't shake the feeling Tony Stark was a past-life echo of Bruce Wayne: the looks, the brains, the fortune, the constant stream of women.
"Fifty million dollars. I'll pay fifty for your half-finished AI model," Tony said. "I can tell your tech is far beyond this era; you deliberately handed me a partial build. The model itself isn't what I want—the thinking is. I've extrapolated and completed a full AI—'JARVIS.' Stark Industries is about to leap a generation ahead…"
Batman cut him off. "One hundred million."