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[center][INDENT][h1][color=gray]THE INDESTRUCTIBLE IRON MAN[/color][/h1][/INDENT][/center]
[center][sub]arc 1: furnace
issue 1.2.2.1 - first degree and a half
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“ Oh?,”  Obidiah said, a dangerous playful lilt to his voice. “ And pray tell, what do I earn from this wager?” 

“ What do you earn?” Justin scoffed, looking at Obidiah like his head had grown three times in size. “ What do you earn? You earn our shares, you salvage  Stark’s Industries reputation in the market, your investors will gain confidence to burn their expenses and you won’t cause a riot when you have to layoff your workforce by the time next quarter. Hell, I’m throwing you a lifeboat on a platter with a cherry on top, Stane.” 

Justin’s arm swung from the arm rest like a pendulum. Behind his golden shades laid eyes that glimmered inside with a dozen different barbs, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. He’d practiced well in advance for what he thought the old man would say and consulted with his legal team on the ways the old man could slither out of this. 

Carrots ready to lure and sticks to bat away tongues. 

However, Justin couldn’t have predicted what Obidiah said next. 

“ I appreciate it, Justin, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to say no.” 

It was matter of fact, conservational. His offer was treated more like some gossip on a weekend brunch rather than the mother of all financial gift horses given to a failing company. There was no treble in Stane’s voice. His eyes didn’t blink. No bead of sweat on that shiny bald head of his. As far as Justin could tell, Obidiah Stane was completely sane. 

Then, why the hell had he slapped away his offer? 

“ I thought’d you learn by now that you can’t afford pride in this business, Stane,” Justin ground out, stifling his rage. Obidiah swirled around, head tilted down at Justin’s relaxed poise like a vulture. 

“ Business?” Obidiah shook his head slowly. “ Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no. No. You see, that’s the difference between you and me, Justin. This game can afford pride. What it can’t afford are small minds such as yours.” 

Justin was now feeling smaller and smaller under Obidiah’s hawkish look. He chuckled with false bravado, taking another draught of his smouldering cigar. 

“ Whatever, Stane.” Justin flicked the cigar away on the floor and stood up, brushing his coat.  “  As soon as you tank the NASDAQ, you’ll be wishing you took my offer. See you when you’re ready to sign the papers.” 

He turned around, leaving one last leering sneer towards Stane, before walking away. 

“ By the way, Justin…” Obidiah’s  I heard about your new project of yours that you’ve been dangling in front of Washington. You’re planning to do a field test with state police to target a certain little…friend of mine.” 

Hammer’s hand froze just inches away from the doorknob. 

“ How the hell did you - “ 

“ Call it insider trading. Say, how much have you burnt in RnD trying to perfect that exoskeleton tech? What’s your backup plan if it fails the demo, Justin?” 

“ I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Justin replied stiffly. 

“ Anyway, rest assured, if all goes well, Justin, I’ll be there to sign those papers you talked about at 24th Worchester Street, Odega.” Obidiah paused and snorted in faux embarassment. “ Oh, I’m sorry. I must have confused your address with your son’s address. Tell me, how is he doing these days?” 

The door closed with a bang. Obidiah smirked, looking at the crumpled leather seat which Justin had just occupied. Justin’s cologne still hung around in the air like a thick musk. He’d have to ask Potts to get the cleaners in here. His eyes wandered over towards Justin’s dropped cigar and picked it up between the crook of his middle and index finger. He twirled it around from the burnt ashen end to the gnawed end where Justin’s molars rended it down to mulch. 

A twist of his fingers crumbled it to dust.

Checkmate.