"Hammer is exhibiting at my Expo?"
Tony stood in the middle of his penthouse living room, staring at Pepper with the expression of a man who'd just been told his car had been donated to charity without his permission.
"Iron Soldiers. Some kind of powered armor variant. He's booked the central stage for a Saturday presentation in two weeks." Pepper sat on the couch with her tablet balanced on her knees, her new assistant standing two steps behind her. "The military backed the request. I couldn't refuse without creating a diplomatic incident."
"The central stage. On a Saturday. At my Expo." Tony turned in a slow circle, as if the audacity of it required a full 360 degrees to process. "Pepper, do you understand what this means? Justin Hammer, the man whose greatest technological achievement is a toaster that catches fire, is going to stand on my stage and show off knockoff Iron Man suits. At the event I created. Named after me."
"I understand how you feel."
"I don't think you do. I think I'm having a cardiac arrestf."
"That's the palladium, Tony."
Silence. Then Tony barked a laugh, sharp and surprised.
Pepper's face softened. The dark circles under her eyes were impossible to miss. Running Stark Industries while its founder alternated between building armor and slowly dying had taken a visible toll. She looked exhausted in a way that makeup couldn't hide and willpower couldn't fix.
Tony saw it. The irritation drained out of him.
"Fine," he said, dropping onto the couch beside her. "Do what you need to do. You're the CEO. If the military wants their show, give them their show. I trust your judgment."
Pepper studied him for a moment, surprised by the absence of a fight. "Thank you. I know this isn't easy."
"Nothing's easy lately." He glanced at her assistant, who stood with perfect posture and an expression of attentive neutrality. Natalie Rushman. Beautiful, efficient, and watching everything with eyes that missed nothing. Tony had his own suspicions about her, but he hadn't voiced them.
Not now. One problem at a time.
The context Pepper didn't know: Tony had already given the Mark II to Rhodey. A clean handoff, no fighting, no drama. Rhodey had been wanting his own suit for years, and Tony had decided that if the worst happened, someone he trusted should carry the armor forward. The military had promptly sent the Mark II to Hammer Industries for "upgrades."
The thought of Justin Hammer's engineers poking around inside his design made Tony's skin crawl. It was like watching someone repaint the Mona Lisa with crayons.
But that was Rhodey's call, not his. And Rhodey had been honest about it, which counted for something.
Tony's earpiece buzzed.
Private line. Only a handful of people had this number, and every one of them was someone Tony took seriously. He tapped the earpiece.
"Yeah?"
"Tony, it's me."
"Abel?"
Tony's posture changed instantly, spine straightening, attention sharpening. On the couch, Pepper went quiet. Behind her, Natalie's eyes flickered, a micro-expression so brief that most people would have missed it entirely. She was listening.
Abel's voice was direct. No preamble, no pleasantries. "I told you the potion was a transaction, not a gift. I've decided what I need in return."
"I've been waiting for this. Honestly, owing someone a favor makes me physically uncomfortable. It's like having a rock in my shoe, except the rock is shaped like gandalf and it never goes away. What do you need?"
"When I was working on the Blood Toxin Elixir, I saw what JARVIS could do with alchemical data. The potential is enormous. There are hundreds of ancient potion formulas that could be restored and adapted to be drugs, but doing it manually would take me decades."
Abel paused, letting the setup land.
"I want a laboratory. Properly funded, properly equipped, with AI assistance for computational modeling. I'll handle the research and production. The potions require magical energy to brew, which means no one can replicate them without a mage. That gives us a monopoly on every product that comes out of that lab."
Tony's mind was already racing. Abel could hear it in the quality of the silence, the particular hum of a brain shifting into business mode.
"And you want me to fund it."
"Investment, not charity. The lab produces commercial potions. Healing compounds, restorative elixirs, performance enhancers within ethical limits. Pharmaceutical-grade products that no competitor can reverse-engineer because the manufacturing process requires magic. You provide the capital, the AI, and the infrastructure. I provide the knowledge and the magic. We split the returns."
"Abel." Tony's voice had changed. The showman was gone. The engineer was gone. This was Tony Stark the businessman, the one who'd turned a weapons company into a clean energy empire. "Even if you'd asked for nothing, I would have built you that lab. The potion saved my life. But since you're framing it as a business proposition, let me counter."
"I'm listening."
"We don't just build a lab. We build a company. Stark Pharma. Joint venture. I provide everything: funding, AI, facilities, legal protection, distribution networks. You provide the research and production. You retain full creative control over what gets developed. I don't touch the magic side. I don't interfere with your process. I just make sure the business runs and the lawyers stay happy. We'll work out the exact split later, but you're not walking away with less than you deserve."
Abel considered that for exactly three seconds.
"Full creative control. No interference with my research priorities. And I maintain the right to produce potions for personal use without reporting them through the company."
"Done."
"Then we have a deal."
Tony grinned. "Abel, I have to say, for a seventeen-year-old, you negotiate like a Fortune 500 CEO. Where did you learn this?"
"I mean I am a teen wizard that goes around fighting cultists. You pick things up."
"How do we split it?"
"Seventy-thirty. I take seventy, you keep thirty."
Tony didn't argue. The math was obvious. The products couldn't exist without Abel's magic. No Abel, no potions. No potions, no company. Seventy percent to the irreplaceable asset was, if anything, conservative.
"Honestly, I'm surprised you're giving me thirty," Tony said. "Considering I can't brew a single vial without you."
"You're providing the funding, the AI, the infrastructure, the distribution network, and the legal shield. Without those, I'm a teenager brewing potions in a closet. Thirty percent is fair for everything you bring." Abel paused. "Besides, thirty percent means Pepper handles thirty percent of the administrative burden. And we both know she's the one who'll actually run it."
Dead silence. Then Tony laughed.
"You know me way too well, kid. Fine. Seventy-thirty. I'll have the paperwork drawn up. Two more things from my side: I need a lab that's properly hidden, no public records, no visitors without my say-so. And a training room built to withstand... let's call it unconventional stress testing."
"A secret lab and an indestructible gym. Sure. Anything else? A moat? A dragon?"
"Don't tempt me. I'll call you when it's ready."
"Do that. And Tony?"
"Yeah?"
"If something comes up, call me. Don't be a hero about it."
"Says the guy who literally portaled into a burning building to save me. But noted." A pause. "Hey, why is it so windy on your end? What are you doing, climbing a mountain?"
Abel looked out at the vista stretching below him. Pine forests, brown scrubland, the distant shimmer of the Pacific. The air tasted thin and clean.
"Yes, actually. That's exactly what I'm doing."
"Seriously? You have teleportation and you're hiking?"
"Goodbye, Tony."
He hung up.
END CHAPTER 49