After Levi left, Tony Stark locked himself inside the underground workshop of his Malibu beachfront mansion.
The massive space echoed only with the sound of his pacing footsteps—and the occasional sharp crash of tools being hurled across the room in frustration.
He dragged out everything Howard Stark had ever left behind. Dust-covered photographs. Yellowed reels of film. Old design blueprints he'd printed and never revisited. Even grocery lists scribbled hastily on napkins.
Pepper delivered food to the workshop door every day at the same time. The next morning, when she returned for the plates, the meals were usually untouched—cold and stiff.
Through the thick soundproof glass, she could only watch Tony's silhouette grow thinner by the day.
Dark circles hollowed his eyes. Stubble shadowed his jaw. He looked like a plant rapidly dehydrating. The blue glow in his chest—once a symbol of rebirth—now felt more like a ticking countdown to death.
Palladium poisoning.
The words clamped around his heart like icy pliers. Black vein-like patterns spread from the reactor in his chest, crawling upward through his blood vessels like cracks in a dried riverbed. Every day he forced himself to swallow glasses of nauseating green chlorophyll juice.
It did nothing but make him want to vomit.
"Tony, you're going to drive yourself insane," Pepper said from the doorway as he violently swept another box of documents onto the floor. Papers scattered like snow.
"I'm going to die, Pepper!" Tony spun around, bloodshot eyes blazing. His voice sounded like it had been dragged across sandpaper. "Before this thing poisons me to death, I have to find a way out! That bastard was right—my old man wouldn't have left nothing!"
The "bastard," of course, was Levi.
Levi's offhand comment that day had become a red-hot nail driven into Tony's brain, burning there day and night.
Eventually, buried among items he'd long dismissed as "junk," Tony found it—a massive scale model occupying the center of the room. The 1974 Stark Expo city model. One of Howard Stark's proudest creations.
Tony circled it again and again. He dismantled every component, studied every tiny wire, every plastic joint.
Nothing.
Just a beautifully crafted model city.
Frustration drowned him like freezing seawater. He collapsed onto the floor, grabbed a bottle of chlorophyll juice, and downed it like whiskey.
Then his phone rang.
An encrypted number.
"What?" he snapped when he answered.
"Seems you haven't found the door yet," came Levi's lazy voice. "Mr. Shit-a-crumb, sometimes the map itself isn't important. The shape of the map—that's where the treasure is."
Click.
Dial tone.
"The shape…"
Tony froze. His exhausted eyes snapped toward the dismantled model.
His genius mind ignited.
"JARVIS, generate a 3D structural projection!"
"Right away, sir."
Buildings. Parks. Roadways. Their layout peeled apart, lifted into the air, reassembled. Lines danced in holographic space. Nodes aligned automatically.
And then—
A stable atomic structure emerged.
"Oh my God…" Tony whispered, eyes blazing with manic revelation. "That's it… That's it! You old genius!"
He shot to his feet and sprinted to his workbench.
He would make it real.
---
Meanwhile, Stark Industries boardroom.
The atmosphere was thick as a pre-storm ocean.
Obadiah Stane sat at the head of the table, his polished bald head reflecting cold fluorescent light. His eyes scanned the room like a shark assessing prey.
"Gentlemen," he began heavily, "you've seen what's happened to our stock since Tony made his reckless decision. And now some unknown opportunist swoops in and becomes a major shareholder. If we don't act, Stark Industries will collapse."
A heavyset director chimed in immediately. "We must remove Tony as CEO! Reopen weapons manufacturing! That's our foundation! Military contracts are real money!"
"And this Anthony Chen—we need to get rid of him! Who knows what he's planning?"
The room erupted.
Then the door opened.
Levi walked in alone.
Tailored suit. Calm smile. No assistants. No lawyers.
"Good afternoon," he said lightly, pulling out a chair beside Obadiah and sitting down. "Sounds lively in here."
"Anthony Chen!" Obadiah slammed the table. "You're not welcome."
Levi tapped the table gently.
The small, crisp sound somehow silenced the room.
"I'm the second-largest shareholder," he said calmly. "Per company bylaws, I'm entitled to attend. Unless you'd prefer my legal team to explain corporate governance?"
Obadiah flushed crimson.
"I know what you're worried about," Levi continued. "Stock price. Profits. The future. Shutting down weapons was risky. But gentlemen—the world has changed."
He snapped his fingers.
The projector flickered on.
PROJECT ARK
For the next hour, Levi outlined a vision none of these men had ever imagined: decentralized clean energy grids, arc-reactor-powered infrastructure, global energy monopolization through licensing, strategic partnerships with governments.
Weapon contracts were finite.
Energy was eternal.
When he finished, the room was silent.
"Excellent," Levi said, rising. "Project Ark begins today. I'll oversee it personally."
He left without sparing Obadiah another glance.
---
Days later. Malibu workshop.
A violent tremor shook the building.
A pillar of pure blue energy erupted upward, punching through reinforced ceilings and into the sky.
Tony Stark stood before a makeshift particle accelerator, holding a newly formed triangular arc reactor glowing with pristine light.
He had done it.
He tore open his shirt in front of a mirror.
The black veins were receding—visibly fading.
Power surged through him—stable, immense.
He laughed. Loud and unrestrained.
"I'm back!"
The workshop door opened.
Levi entered, carrying a bottle of 1982 Romanée-Conti.
"Congratulations," Levi said. "Looks like you found your father's gift."
"You knew," Tony said quietly.
"I knew he was a genius," Levi replied, uncorking the wine. "And that genius tends to run in the family."
They clinked glasses.
"To a great father," Levi said. "And a reborn one."
They drank.
"How does it feel?" Levi asked.
"Better than ever." Tony flexed his hand. "Mark IV's already designed. New core. New materials. New systems. Perfect."
"Good," Levi smiled.
Then his satellite phone rang.
Nick Fury's line.
Levi answered.
"Anthony," Fury said urgently. "We've got a situation. A big one. Green. And it might become two."
In the background—roars. Explosions. Static.
"Location," Levi said calmly.
"Harlem. Near Culver University."
"Understood."
He hung up and looked at Tony.
"Looks like your new suit's getting a field test."
He grinned.
"But fair warning—the opponent's a bit outside the usual weight class."
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