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Extra chapters available on patreon ❤️🔥
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Late at night, James moved like a shadow toward the base of Stark Tower. He wasn't here to make noise, and he wasn't here to leave footprints. Tonight was about clean work—quiet steps, quiet hands, and a quiet exit.
He paused beneath the tower's glow, the glass and steel reaching into the sky like a weapon pointed at the clouds. The city around it never truly slept, but the building itself had entered its after-hours mode: fewer bodies, more cameras, more sensors, and a lot more guns.
James pulled a black mask from his pocket and slipped it over his face, leaving only his eyes visible. It wasn't just for show. Mindset mattered. When you dressed like a professional, you acted like one. And James had done enough dirty jobs in darker cities to know the difference between confidence and carelessness.
Back in the cyberpunk world, he had worked on shady runs with V—jobs that demanded silence, speed, and precision. Infiltration wasn't a hobby for him. It was something he had turned into a habit, and that habit had a perfect record.
Breaking in during the day would've been easier. But Stark Industries had eyes everywhere. Obadiah's influence reached into every hallway and every camera feed, and Tony's office sat at the very top like a crown jewel. Even if James slipped through the front doors, someone would spot him.
At night, there were fewer people, but the building's security systems were fully awake. Armed guards patrolled in trained routes, and the surveillance network was on its highest alert. If the system detected an intruder, Stark Industries security would respond fast—hard men, many of them retired military, some of them combat veterans, all of them trained to put threats down.
Most people would call it impossible.
James called it Tuesday.
He pulled out a portable terminal, fingers moving with practiced speed. In seconds, his screen filled with encrypted layers, security nodes, and access gates—three layers deep, built by a competent team.
Competent… for this era.
To James, it looked like thin paper pretending to be steel.
He moved through the system silently, cutting power to certain cameras, looping others, placing delays into alarm triggers, and blinding motion sensors at the right moments. The protection network struggled for a few minutes, then collapsed like it had never been real.
Within minutes, Stark Tower's digital defenses were crippled.
James slipped inside and moved with calm control, keeping to blind spots and timing his steps between patrol passes. His eyes tracked reflections, camera angles, and the rhythm of boots on marble floors.
The only thing that annoyed him?
The stairs.
He chewed gum, inhaled slowly, and climbed—one flight after another—until his legs burned. No matter how advanced the world became, stairs remained the one enemy you couldn't hack.
At last, he reached the top floor.
Tony's office wasn't the golden palace James expected. It wasn't flashy. It wasn't oversized. But the location was perfect: a wall of windows overlooking the city, turning the skyline into a private painting.
Standing there felt powerful.
With a cup of coffee, it would've felt unstoppable.
James powered on Tony's computer, inserted the lock chip Tony had provided, and followed the clue he'd been given. He found the hidden drive almost immediately.
When he opened it, the files spoke for themselves.
Shipping manifests.
Private communications.
Internal orders and hidden transactions.
Everything connected to Obadiah.
Obadiah had trusted the company network too much. He stored his secrets in the place he believed was safest—inside Stark's own walls.
He wasn't stupid. He was just facing the wrong enemies.
And as James dug deeper, he found something better than Tony had asked for.
His eyes narrowed, then widened slightly.
"Oh wow," he murmured. "Iron Monger design blueprints… Arc Reactor concept specifications…"
It wasn't just evidence. It was treasure.
Tony's request had effectively tossed James into a vault and told him to grab a handful of gold. But James had arrived with an extra-large bag, and he wasn't leaving anything valuable behind.
Tony, before his kidnapping, had also believed his network security was untouchable. As the designer, he had stored years of research, older prototypes, and early designs in the system.
The lock chip wouldn't automatically point James toward everything.
But James didn't need pointing.
He found it himself.
And he copied it.
For that, he had come prepared—with a massive hard drive hidden under his jacket, ready to swallow as much data as the machine could pour out.
He didn't feel guilty. Tony didn't understand how advanced James's skills truly were. In this era, James was a ghost with a master key. Stark Industries simply hadn't evolved enough to keep him out.
While the data transferred, James' thoughts drifted to Obadiah.
No one knew Tony better than the people who watched him grow.
Obadiah wasn't Tony's father, but he had been close enough to learn Tony's patterns. And lately, he had clearly sensed the shift—the distrust, the distance, the cold edge behind Tony's eyes.
The Iron Monger construction timeline was rushed. Too rushed.
Obadiah was panicking.
He didn't know when Tony would uncover the truth, and he didn't believe he could survive Tony's retaliation once the truth came out. So he was preparing to flip the table before Tony could.
But even without James, Obadiah's end was always coming.
He just didn't have the luck to escape it.
Once James had everything he wanted, he erased traces, restored small pieces of the system just enough to delay discovery, and slipped out the same way he entered. He got into his car and drove through the night toward Tony's cliffside home.
With this evidence in hand, Obadiah had no way back.
There was no reason to delay anymore.
---
Freedom City
Tony's villa rose from the cliff like a fortress. The waves below crashed endlessly against stone, like the ocean itself was trying to break in. This wasn't just a home—it was Tony's real kingdom. A private lab. A private world.
And the birthplace of J.A.R.V.I.S.
At the gate, James was stopped by the security interface.
"Please wait. Your access authorization is being entered."
After a brief pause, the system responded.
The gate opened.
Pepper was already waiting inside, tension written across her face. She led James through wide halls and sleek corridors, carefully avoiding restricted sections.
"This place is huge," James muttered, eyes scanning everything.
Pepper didn't laugh. "Tony is inside. What happened? Did you get it?"
"It's resolved," James replied simply. "Naturally."
She guided him deeper, into the heart of the research area.
That's where James saw Tony.
He was standing in the middle of his lab, suited up in the Mark III, arms raised as robotic systems adjusted and locked pieces into place. The armor looked like a miracle of engineering—compact, elegant, lethal.
But the fitting process wasn't smooth.
Tony's face tightened with pain for a moment, like something had pinched or squeezed in the wrong place. The moment he noticed James and Pepper, he immediately stopped the robotic arms and pretended everything was fine.
James, of course, noticed anyway.
"Did you get your balls caught, Tony?"
Tony's mouth twitched. "No. It's… tight. Easily adjustable."
Pepper covered her face like she regretted being alive.
James stepped closer, studying the armor with real admiration. "This is what you built in that cave?"
"You can call it the Mark III," Tony replied, suddenly proud again, voice lifting with that familiar arrogant shine.
James circled it like a wolf circling a masterpiece. "It looks good. But aren't you worried about getting stuck in there if the suit is that compact?"
Tony raised his chin. "Do you want to know? Beg me."
James didn't blink. "I beg you."
Silence hit the room.
Tony stared at him like he'd just watched someone throw dignity into a trash can.
"…You have no pride," Tony muttered.
James smiled innocently.
Tony sighed and gave him a short explanation—just enough to satisfy the question without opening every secret in the suit. Then he quickly changed the subject before James could ask more.
"Alright. Give me the stuff."
James handed over the USB drive. "Learning from you is truly a pleasure, my idol."
Tony's face tightened like he didn't know whether to accept the compliment or strangle it.
Tony removed the armor, subtly rubbing his lower body as if confirming everything was still intact, then sat at the computer and inserted the drive.
He scrolled through files rapidly.
The more he read, the colder his expression became.
Finally, Tony leaned back.
His face was calm, but his eyes had already decided the future.
Obadiah was done.
While Tony processed the evidence, James' attention drifted toward something on the table.
The original Arc Reactor.
It sat there like a captured star in a glass case. Pepper had given it back to Tony as a gift, refusing to let him throw it away.
James picked it up carefully, feeling the faint hum in his palm.
"The glow from this cold fusion…" James whispered. "It's beautiful."
Tony noticed the hunger in his eyes.
"You want this technology?"
"Of course," James answered immediately. "This is the holy grail of energy."
Tony took the reactor from his hands and put it back.
"This one won't do," he said. "It's my gift."
James understood instantly—and smiled.
This one won't do.
But others might.
Tony wasn't planning to hide Arc technology forever. He wanted to turn it into civilian power, reshape industries, change the world. That kind of future couldn't be built alone. It required teams—multiple teams.
And Tony had already decided James would be one of them.
Tony wasn't worried about leaks. He believed—firmly—that even if others learned his ideas, only he could truly lead the Arc Reactor's evolution.
So giving James an older reactor someday?
Not impossible.
Not if James earned it.
With nothing else left to say, James finally pulled his gaze away.
"Alright," he said. "If that's all, I'll go."
Tony nodded. "Get some rest. Your vacation's almost over."
Pepper walked James out, while Tony made calls—military calls. He needed support to put Obadiah in chains.
The military had always favored Stark Industries, a bond built long before Tony—dating back to Howard Stark's influence.
When Pepper returned, she remembered something and spoke carefully.
"Tony… there's someone I think you should meet."
Tony glanced up. "Who?"
"An agent named Phil. He's been trying to meet you since the Middle East. He said he's from some Strategic Homeland… I can't remember the whole name."
She handed him the business card.
Tony stared at the logo, eyes narrowing slightly.
Then he tossed the card onto the table.
"Involving unknown agencies in this," he said, "only creates new problems."
He stood, voice steady.
"We stick to the plan. Arc Reactor Project. District Sixteen."
---
Obadiah's Last Gamble
Elsewhere, deep in a hidden lab, Obadiah stared at the completed Iron Monger shell.
It looked terrifying.
It looked unstoppable.
But it was hollow.
His engineers had built an empty coffin of steel. Without a functioning energy core, the machine was useless—nothing more than a monument to failure.
Obadiah should've waited.
Technically, no evidence had surfaced. No one had confronted him. The Ten Rings were silenced. Loose ends were cut.
And yet…
A cold unease crawled through him, tightening like a wire around his throat.
He clenched his jaw.
"I can't wait any longer," he hissed. "If these useless people can't build it… I'll take the finished product."
He meant Tony's.
Obadiah had power, money, and years of influence inside the military. He believed he could bury Tony and survive the backlash—especially if he handed out enough profit to the right people.
So he made the decision.
Tonight.
He would go to Tony's villa alone and steal what he needed.
But the moment he stepped out of the lab—
He collided with a fully armed James and a squad of soldiers.
Obadiah's heart dropped.
Still, the man forced a smile, spreading his arms as if greeting an old friend.
"Jame—"
He didn't even finish the name.
A brutal punch slammed into his abdomen.
Obadiah's vision darkened, lungs collapsing, hope shattering in one instant. He staggered back, clutching his stomach, barely catching himself against the wall.
James stepped closer, expression cold and controlled.
Obadiah struggled to breathe, then forced words out through the pain.
"Tony sent you… didn't he? Where is he?"
James didn't smile.
"You'll see Tony," he said, grabbing Obadiah's arm. "But not here."
Soldiers moved in, searching Obadiah thoroughly. They found hidden items—tools, weapons, devices meant for sabotage.
Once those were stripped away, Obadiah had nothing left.
He wasn't going to outfight a squad of trained soldiers. And he definitely wasn't going to win against James.
Not tonight.
Not ever again.
The ending had arrived.
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Extra chapters available on patreon ❤️🔥
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