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Chapter 62: The Death of Obadiah
🕑 Added 2025-10-18 16:55:52 +0000 UTCUnder Onion’s massive claw, Obadiah still spat curses, even as his chest wheezed from the weight pressing him into the dirt. Nearby, Pepper—shaken but alive—once again threw herself into Tony’s arms.
Tony’s expression darkened.
He had wanted to let Obadiah live. After all, the man had been his father’s friend—almost like an uncle.
But after everything Obadiah had done—betrayal, murder, targeting Pepper and Skye—there was no forgiveness left in Tony Stark.
Whirrr…
Tony raised his hand, his palm repulsor starting to glow. What little energy he had left drained rapidly as the weapon charged.
> “Sir,” Jarvis’s calm voice echoed in his helmet, “I must remind you—your reactor’s power is at less than two percent. Firing now may disable life support. I advise against this action.”
Tony gritted his teeth and slowly lowered his arm.
He remembered too vividly what it felt like to have shrapnel inching toward his heart. He wasn’t eager to relive it.
Meanwhile, Onion stood motionless, keeping Obadiah pinned. The chocobo tilted its head curiously, occasionally pecking at Obadiah’s torn clothes like a child poking a broken toy.
“How’s that feel?”
Lucas approached, the crystalline sword in his hand glinting coldly under the streetlights. His face was like carved ice.
“You bastard, you think—”
SHHK!
A single flash of light.
Obadiah’s head shot skyward, spinning once before landing with a dull thud.
Lucas flicked his blade clean and said evenly, “You talk too much. If you’ve got last words, say them in hell.”
He didn’t spare the corpse another glance. Instead, he reached down and picked up the fallen arc reactor lying in the rubble.
He tossed it toward Tony. “You really gonna leave this lying around for them to pick up?” He nodded toward the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents slowly surrounding the area.
Though Lucas respected Coulson, he knew the man still answered to his superiors—and one in particular couldn’t be trusted.
Tony took the reactor, his mouth curling in distaste. “Doesn’t matter. No one can crack it anyway. Even that dead bastard had to steal mine.”
He gave the lifeless body of Obadiah Stane a sharp kick—more contempt than vengeance—and sighed.
The arc reactor hummed faintly in his hand, its light dim. Tony turned it over, then tossed it aside. “It’s nearly out of juice anyway. I’ll build a new one.”
Pepper came over then, stepping carefully around the corpse. Her face was pale. “Lucas, Skye’s already at the hospital. Don’t worry.”
She added quickly, “It’s our hospital—the Stark Medical Center. Not theirs.” She nodded toward the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.
At that, Coulson walked over. He looked at Lucas with a complicated expression—half relief, half accusation.
He didn’t need to speak; Lucas already understood. Fury had ordered him to collect Skye’s blood samples while she was unconscious.
To “study” her.
Nick Fury, the self-proclaimed protector of Earth, loved to justify everything with those words: for the planet’s safety.
But Lucas knew better. The man was a manipulative opportunist—half-hero, half-tyrant.
Coulson had planned to do the extraction quietly at the hospital, but Pepper had diverted Skye to Stark’s private facility instead.
That meant S.H.I.E.L.D. had no access—no authority.
In America, money was power, and Stark Industries was the kind of capital even Fury couldn’t strong-arm.
When Fury heard about the reroute, he was reportedly furious—pun intended. But all he could do was curse and drop the line.
Before disconnecting, he’d left Coulson with one last order:
> “Get Tony Stark into the Avengers Initiative. Whatever it takes.”
---
With Iron Monger reduced to scrap—thanks mostly to Onion—Tony treated the remains like junk. S.H.I.E.L.D., however, eagerly scavenged what was left. Even shattered, the armor and the secondary arc reactor were valuable intel.
For Coulson, it was the only “win” he’d managed tonight.
The entire battle site was sealed off, preventing leaks to the public. For a brief moment, S.H.I.E.L.D. thought they’d contained everything.
They were wrong.
Three days later, a video hit the internet.
The footage showed everything: Tony in his Iron Man suit fighting the Iron Monger, explosions lighting up the night, and—most shockingly—a man riding a massive bird of prey following the battle overhead.
It spread like wildfire.
People recognized the warehouse district. Witnesses described a full lockdown by “men in black.” Reporters traced the property back to Stark Industries, tying it neatly to earlier rumors about “a mysterious flying weapon.”
Soon, crowds swarmed outside Stark Tower.
News anchors couldn’t get enough of “The Iron Man Incident.”
S.H.I.E.L.D. scrambled to contain the fallout. The situation was officially classified, but the internet had already crowned Tony Stark as the world’s newest superhero.
And somewhere in the middle of it all—
Lucas was at home, caring for Skye.
His phone rang.
“Yo~” Lucas answered casually. “Didn’t expect a call from the Tony Stark himself. Shouldn’t you be too busy dodging reporters right now?”
He spoke while holding a juice bottle, carefully feeding Skye—her arms still wrapped in casts.
Just then, Gwen walked in, took the bottle from his hand, and smiled faintly. “I’ve got it.”
Lucas nodded, stepping aside.
Gwen had taken leave from MIT the moment she heard Skye was hurt. Even the professors didn’t protest—she was one of their top students. Every school makes exceptions for its prodigies.
Skye had woken three days after the battle. Physically, she was fine—just exhausted and bandaged. But with both arms broken, she needed help with everything.
Having Gwen around made things easier—and spared everyone the awkwardness of Lucas, a full-grown man, helping her bathe or change.
Not that either girl would’ve let him.
Between the three of them, the air was… complicated.
Both Gwen and Skye had feelings for Lucas. Both knew it. And both had silently agreed not to talk about it.
As for Lucas himself?
He was hopelessly oblivious.
To him, life was still just food, games, and the next absurd mission.
Skye’s awakening of her powers had been, in truth, for him—so she could stand beside him, protect him, fight with him.
But Lucas remained that same clueless fool, blissfully unaware that two brilliant women’s worlds quietly revolved around him.
