The screen flickered as Tony's device executed its programming with ruthless efficiency. Pepper watched files cascade across the display, weapons schematics, shipping manifests, financial records that should have required board approval. JARVIS's subroutine, embedded in the innocent-looking USB drive, worked with surgical precision.
Documents flashed past: Jericho missiles, modified Stark Industries munitions, export licenses to countries under arms embargoes. Each file was automatically copied, building a comprehensive record of illegal activity.
Then a new folder appeared: Sector 16 - Restricted Access.
Pepper's fingers hesitated over the keyboard. Sector 16 wasn't a designation she recognized, which meant it was operating completely off-book. She clicked the folder open.
The first file was a technical schematic, crude but functional armor design, clearly cobbled together from limited materials. The label read: Mark I Prototype Analysis.
Her blood went cold. That was Tony's armor in the Mansion. How did Obadiah have detailed schematics?
The next file was a video. She clicked play.
The footage was grainy, clearly recorded on a handheld device. Armed militants filled the frame, and between them knelt a hooded prisoner. One of the militants spoke directly to the camera in accented English.
"Obadiah Stane, this is Gumira. You didn't tell us it was Tony Stark you wanted us to kill."
The hood came off.
Tony's battered face stared at the camera, bruised and bloodied but defiant.
Pepper's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. The words on screen blurred as tears filled her eyes, but the implication was crystal clear: Obadiah had ordered Tony's assassination. Had paid the Ten Rings to murder him in that cave.
"Oh God," she whispered. "Obadiah, what have you done?"
Her hands moved automatically, copying every file in the Sector 16 folder. Evidence. She needed evidence.
"This matter, " Obadiah's voice, loud and authoritative, echoed from somewhere outside the office. Pepper's head snapped up, panic flooding her system. The door handle turned.
She had maybe two seconds.
Her hand grabbed the newspaper she'd brought in, purely by chance, it had been sitting on the chair, and spread it over the keyboard and USB drive just as Obadiah pushed through the door.
He stopped mid-sentence when he saw her, genuine surprise flickering across his features before his expression smoothed into pleasant neutrality.
"How should I deal with this?" he finished, pivoting seamlessly as if he'd been completing that thought all along.
He moved to the side table where Tony kept a collection of expensive whiskey, his movements casual but his eyes sharp. Watching her.
"I understand how you feel, Pepper," Obadiah said, selecting a bottle and examining the label appreciatively. "Tony's never been short of excellent taste in liquor."
His tone suggested he'd come purely to sample Tony's collection, but Pepper knew better. Obadiah Stane didn't do anything without calculation. He was here for a reason, and her presence had surprised him.
Behind the newspaper, the USB drive's LED indicator still blinked, files copying, evidence accumulating. If Obadiah looked too closely at the computer, if he noticed anything wrong...
Pepper forced a smile that felt plastic on her face. "Just catching up on some paperwork."
Obadiah poured amber liquid into a crystal tumbler, then moved toward the desk. Toward her. Pepper's hand trembled slightly as she activated the screen saver with a subtle touch, the display going dark just as Obadiah's shadow fell across the keyboard.
He stood beside her, close enough that she could smell his cologne, expensive, sophisticated, covering the scent of something rotten underneath. His eyes flicked to the darkened computer screen, then back to her face.
"When Tony first came back," Obadiah said, his voice carrying what sounded like genuine emotion, "you can't imagine my relief. It was like seeing light after endless darkness."
He took a sip of whiskey, savoring it. "But now I realize, Tony never fully returned. Part of him stayed in that cave. He's broken, Pepper. And it breaks my heart to see it."
The audacity of the lie was breathtaking. Obadiah had ordered Tony killed, and now he stood here pretending grief over Tony's trauma.
Pepper's nails dug into her palm beneath the desk. She had to appear normal, had to play the role of Tony's concerned assistant rather than someone who'd just discovered treason and attempted murder.
"Yes," she managed, keeping her voice steady. "He's been through something traumatic. He has his moments. But he'll be fine eventually."
Obadiah settled into Tony's desk chair, studying her with the intensity of a man who'd built an empire on reading people. "You're a remarkable woman, Pepper. Rare, in this business. Tony doesn't know how lucky he is to have you."
The compliment felt like a test, like he was probing for weakness or unusual behavior. Pepper forced another smile. "Thank you. That's very kind."
She stood, gathering the newspaper in a way that concealed the USB drive beneath. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she kept her movements casual, unhurried.
"I should get back to work," she said, beginning to move toward the door.
"A moment," Obadiah said, and Pepper's blood froze. "I've noticed we've been helping Smith Doyle acquire quite a bit of equipment recently. Restricted materials, specialized technology, billions of dollars worth, using our own allocation quotas."
He swirled his whiskey thoughtfully. "I'm not saying we shouldn't be grateful for Tony's rescue. But we already paid them a million dollars and equipment. Endless assistance seems... excessive. Don't you think?"
Pepper forced herself to turn back, to engage with the conversation despite every instinct screaming at her to run. "The equipment purchases are part of our original agreement. We promised to be their weapons supplier, but when Tony shut down international arms sales, we renegotiated to equipment procurement instead."
Obadiah's eyes sharpened. "Pepper, you're aware that Tony's resolution to end weapons manufacturing wasn't approved by the board."
The implication was clear: the contract change wasn't legitimate, and Obadiah could challenge it. But more than that, it was a reminder of his power within Stark Industries, power that extended to ordering assassinations.
"I understand," Pepper said carefully. "But the contract modification was negotiated with Smith directly after Tony's return. Tony approved it personally."
Obadiah sighed, a sound of paternal disappointment. Then his gaze dropped to the newspaper in her hands. "Is that today's paper?"
Pepper's stomach dropped. "Yes."
"May I see it?" Obadiah stood, extending his hand. "I enjoy the crossword puzzle."
There was no refusing without making her behavior even more suspicious. Pepper handed over the newspaper, praying the USB drive was secure in her palm. The transfer was awkward, the newspaper's bulk making the exchange clumsy.
"Of course," she said, her voice tight. "I enjoy them too."
She didn't wait for a response. Pepper turned and walked toward the door with measured steps, not too fast, not too slow, every movement screaming normalcy even as adrenaline flooded her system.
"Be careful," Obadiah called after her, and the words carried an edge that might have been warning or threat.
Pepper glanced back with what she hoped was a pleasant smile. "Always am."
Then she was through the door, into the corridor, forcing herself not to run despite every instinct demanding speed. She reached the elevator and jabbed the button repeatedly, watching the numbers descend with agonizing slowness.
Behind her, through the office door, she heard the unmistakable sound of a keyboard being touched. Then Obadiah's voice, sharp with fury: "What the hell!"
The elevator doors opened. Pepper dove inside and slammed her palm against the ground floor button. The doors began to slide closed, too slowly, far too slowly,
They sealed shut. The elevator descended.
Pepper sagged against the wall, her legs suddenly weak. She'd copied evidence of Obadiah's treason, but he knew. He knew she'd accessed his files, knew she had proof of his crimes. Which meant he'd act, and soon.
The elevator seemed to take an eternity to reach ground level. When the doors finally opened, Pepper half-expected to find Obadiah's security team waiting. Instead, she saw a familiar figure seated on the leather sofa in the lobby, a man in a bland suit who looked like he'd been assembled from a catalog of government agent stereotypes.
Agent Coulson.
He looked up from his phone, recognition lighting his features. "Miss Potts. We had an appointment. You didn't forget?"
An appointment she'd been trying to reschedule for weeks. Divine timing.
"No," Pepper said, her words tumbling out rapid-fire. "Come with me. Now."
Coulson stood smoothly, his bland expression sharpening into something more focused. Years of field work had taught him to recognize when civilians were in genuine distress. "Of course. Lead the way."
Pepper was already moving toward the building's exit, her pace just shy of running. "We need to leave. Immediately."
"Understood." Coulson fell into step beside her, one hand drifting toward his concealed firearm out of instinct. "Should I be concerned about, "
"The information I have is beyond anything you're expecting," Pepper interrupted, risking a glance back toward the elevators.
There, Obadiah, emerging from another elevator, his face thunderous. Their eyes met across the lobby, and Pepper saw naked fury in his expression. All pretense of civility had evaporated. He knew what she'd taken, and he knew what it meant.
Pepper grabbed Coulson's arm and pulled him through the exit. "We need to go. Now. Please."
Coulson, to his credit, didn't ask questions. He simply matched her pace as they burst through the doors into the parking structure. "My vehicle is in visitor parking."
"That works."