Iron Monger

Losing his father was hard, sure, but losing his mother was the hardest thing Tony had ever had to deal with. He was only twenty-one. He shouldn’t have to deal with losing his parents. Especially not both at once in a stupid car accident. He should be out partying. And sure, he partied. Hard. But he wasn’t really enjoying the parties. They were just a way for him to forget about everything for a while. He drank to numb the pain, if only for a couple hours.

And he relished the hangovers. He knew most people complained endlessly about them, but they were something. Normal people got hangovers. Normal people laid in bed all morning after drinking and contemplated living in a cave. Hangovers were proof that he was still human. And the raging migraine was another distraction from the reality of what had happened.

Technically, he was the CEO of Stark Industries now. He had inherited the company and the entire fortune when his parents died. But Obi was doing fine running the company. It hadn’t failed yet, so clearly it was okay.

He was awake, sort of, when Obi barged into his room. He was just wallowing in the misery of his hangover. And avoiding the thought of having to get up. Leaving his room meant facing all of the reminders of his parents. Everywhere he turned was another photograph or decoration or piece of furniture that brought the pain crashing back down on him.

“What do you want, Obi?” he grumbled, rolling onto his back to glare at the older man. “What are you even doing here?” He lifted his arm to cover his eyes, hiding from the bright sunlight. “This is my house. No one’s supposed to be here.”

“Tony, if this were actually your house you’d be living in it, not hiding from it. Up you go. Grab anything you can’t bear to leave behind for a few days.” He snapped his fingers, seeing the signs of hangover written all over the young man and not feeling particularly gentle about catering to them. He’d tried that already, and the kid hadn’t so much as looked at what he was supposed to be handling.

That simply wouldn’t work long term. He could leave many things to Obadiah without fail, but he wasn’t going to try and make heads or tails out of R&D. That had always been Stark territory. And this was the Stark that had to deal with it now.

“You’re coming with me to California. The Board has waited long enough to meet you, and frankly, the sunshine would probably do you some good. Who knows, maybe you’ll see a nice place out there you want to move into instead of staying here. You know, a nice change of scenery to lift your spirits.”

There was a pause, and Obadiah examined the man for a long moment, then he turned to go. “I’ll leave you to it. Today has been... enlightening. I’ll see myself out so I’ll leave you with my goodbyes here.” 

“I have someone inside, just waiting. If all goes well you should befriend him. His path is to power. You may call him and he will make all the arrangements.” Zola pulled a card case out of his pocket and fished out a card. The name on it, along with the number, was Alexander Pierce. “He is my handler.”

Zola smiled.

Obadiah Stane was the villain of Iron Man.

Obadiah Stane was a creepy, greedy villain.

Obadiah Stane manipulated Tony Stark since he was a young man and then tried to kill him three times.

Obadiah Stane sold weapons to terrorist.

“I’m simply a scientist, Mr. Stane. One at the end of his life.” That was disingenuous as fuck, but it was true that Dr. Zola thought like a tactician, not a businessman. “I have one last experiment to complete, my masterwork, and I do not wish for Howard Stark to interfere in any way.” He coughed softly. and wiped his mouth with a clean cotton square. “I can be ready at a moment’s notice. The sooner the better, obviously.”

Obadiah looked over at him for a moment, carefully evaluating before pocketing what he’d been fiddling with. It looked like it had promise. “Alright then, Dr. Zola, I’ll be getting back to you as soon as possible. If it works out properly, you’ll have everything sorted before Howard even makes it back from paternity leave. Clean and easy.”

“Actually… I was offering carte blanche, Mr Stane. What am I going to do with these things when I am gone? Of course if you are as smart as you seem to think that you are, you will filter these creations through some lower level science functionary. Allow Stark to steal them as he does. He will be happy, you will make money. Is a win/win. And I did make a demand. Perhaps you did not notice because it was not money. I need access to the laboratory at Camp Lehigh. I need Stark not to be there. Distract him. Take him on some sort of trip.”

Obadiah gave a soft laugh and looked around, examining everything in the space. “Consider it done. How soon do you need it? I’ll look into what’s already there and get back to you if it looks like I’ll have to plan something more elaborate to give you what you need.” 

Capitalist pig. Standing in the heart of genius asking what’s in it for him.

“These are things that Stark has not stolen from me. If you can not see the value, then it is because you are not clever enough. You have barely looked. Only thinking of your bottom line. “ Zola looked at him speculatively. “Perhaps I should take my plans to Oswald. At least he is a scientist.”

Zola wasn’t stupid either. He wasn’t desperate. He would never be desperate again.

He looked sideways, examining the man in the wheelchair and largely unruffled. “Am I to assume I get my pick then? Because I wasn’t about to assume that someone as smart as you was going to give me carte blanc.”

He lifted his hands and gave a light turn, then padded further into the room to really start examining everything inside. “I barely looked because I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t going to get my hopes up with something you were going to say wasn’t on the table. Especially since you haven’t made any proper demands yet.”

“Ever the capitalist. I expect nothing less. Come vit me.” He toggled his chair into motion, heading out and down the hallway. At the end of the hall was an office with a bookcase that swung open like a door. Inside was an elevator that went down to the basement. He kept a space that was more archive than design studio. Zola was past his design days, but he had some things. It was mostly weapons, though there were some innovative computer designs as well. And there was a large half completed suit of combat armor. Zola had designed it originally to work with the energy harnessed from the Tesseract. It was a large, heavy and ponderous looking. 

“What I need from you is your influence on Howard… I need access to the laboratory at Camp Lehigh. I think you can talk him into it.”

Obadiah wanted to focus on the negotiation, of course he did, but he was immediately distracted by the oddly archaic looking piece of technology, somewhat captivated. Still, he was quick enough to tear his gaze off of it, since it was incomplete and therefore would be useless no matter how he sliced it, to look back to the man in the wheelchair.

A wide array of emotions played over Zola’s features at the mention of Howard’s child. A family was something he had certainly been denied. 

“Some things do not have a deeper meaning. You are interested in making a path for yourself, interested in money and power. Well, I have things to offer, but everything I have has the shadow of my past. I was never allowed to forget, so much of it is infected as though with some sort of social radiation. Much of my own work was taken and ‘cleansed’ for use by Howard.” To Zola the word cleansed meant stolen. 

“What sort of information would you like? I know many things, from secrets to inventions.”

“Now, I’ve never been an inventor kind of man, but anything you throw my way I’ll find a way to use in good time. Of course, I won’t line up with any organization, my loyalties aren’t that easy to get, but I’ll definitely use whatever I get to the best benefit. Question is, what do you want for the information you might send my way? It doesn’t sound like you have any love for Howard, after all, and I am part of his company.”

Zola watched Stane as carefully as he was being watched. He was pleased that the expression was cold calculation and not a hint of actual recoil in disgust or horror. Even if Stane had no interest in the politics (and as a Capitalist swine, he certainly would not) he was valuable. 

“Just a test, really. My past is my past. I can not rewrite it as I was so often reminded during my time with the SSR and Peggy Carter’s SHIELD. If someone cannot see past my former alliances, then what more can I say about anything. Howard Stark is a brutal man, and I am too old and sick to deal with being uprooted now.” Zola picked up his cup to sip, having to be patient with the slight shaking of his hands.

“Ah, well. In that case, we have nothing to worry about. After all, Howard is very busy with his new child right now, and I am simply following up information that might be of profit to know in the future.” He didn’t smile, though there was a small uptick at the corners of his mouth. He had no intention of going to Howard and saying a single word about any of this.

That just smacked of bad business. 

“Tch!” Zola almost had a coughing fit when Stane said being handsome was only useful when one had goals. It just exactly the sort of thing that one who’d always been handsome would say. He forced his breathing back to calm. At least the young man was favoring him with the charm, not that Zola cared particularly for male company or female in that way. He just enjoyed that someone who was nice looking was trying to charm him. In that way it was working. After a moment he stubbed out his cig, and leaned forward, looking at Stane intently. 

“Hail Hydra,” he whispered.

There was the smallest of twitches. He’d never been someone with strong ideals. No, he’d always had a very open approach to the concept of being able to change his morals as it suited him. Namely, if it suited him, and profited him, he never saw a problem with exploring a new avenue of interest.

The problem with this little revelation was that he wasn’t sure that it would be remotely profitable for him at all. Thus, considering the man before him with careful eyes, he took a deep breath with his lips pressed against the rim of his coffee cup. If there was one thing he knew about Howard, it was the man had been adamantly anti-HYDRA, and that the man was proud of his place in projects of the times that had fought the organization. 

Still, it was through Howard that he’d even met this man, so who was he to talk?

“Oh, she is the leader of a covert government intelligence agency. Howard is involved as well.” Zola didn’t care about keeping the secret. He also didn’t care if Stane believed him. He pulled out a cigarette and a lighter, pulled his oxygen tube from his nose, and lit up. There was a solid acre of fucks Zola no longer gave. 

“As for myself, are you certain you really want to know? The rabbit hole is deep and dark, and you are handsome and charming. You hardly need my help.” Zola had a feeling that Stane was used to getting what he wanted, but it took more effort than the charmed Stark usually seemed to give. It might be enough to work a tentacle in.

“I’m certain that I’m better off knowing than not knowing Doctor, and that’s enough for my curiosity to stay quite firmly at the forefront. You can understand, I’m sure.” 

He inclined his head toward him with a charming smile. “Being handsome and charming is only useful if one has a direction for their goals, good sir, and I have yet to decide my own. I assume that you brought those points up for a reason?”