A Different Path

1997

"Obie, hey," Tony started unsurely as he walked toward his godfather. The bald man was hunched over some paperwork, pen tapping against the glossy hardwood of his desk.

He looked up at him and smiled, letting the pen drop. Not for the first time, Tony got the chills seeing it. There was something behind that smile, something evil that he thought he would never associate with the man.

The man. That is how Tony refered to him sometimes. It was like he didn't know his father figure anymore.

"Tony, my boy," he clasped his hand together, "what can I do you for?"

The twenty-three year old gulped. "Uhm, yeah, there was something I wanted to ask you."

Obadiah raised an eyebrow. "What is it? Oh, do you want a party? You haven't had one in the past few months. Always working, though I haven't seen any new weapon designs."

"No, I don't want a party." He sighed. "Obie-"

"Why not? You deserve one. You're always so carefree at parties. Now you're just formal, with that good ol' wit, of course. You need to let loose."

"Obadiah-"

"How about we schedule one at the mansion? It'll be grand. I can get rid of your assistant for a little while if you need," Tony bristled, "She's always so uptight, I don't know how you can stand her."

Tony's fist clenched minutely. He didn't like it when people talked bad about Pepper, one of the best people to ever come into his life. Obadiah was no an exception.

She's only worked with him for a few months, but he quit partying within a week of her being there. He'd rather be with her.

The genius took a deep breath through his nose and sat down in the chair opposite to Obadiah, leaning back and crossing his arms. "I do not want a party," he said firmly.

Obadiah rolled his eyes, irritation crystal clear. How had Tony never seen this before? "Then, what do you want?"

"I want," here goes nothing, "to stop weapons production."

Anger flashed through Stane's eyes, but he tried to hide it with a strained smile. "My boy, what brings this on?"

"I don't want a death toll to be this company's legacy. I want to make something great. I want-"

"Want. Want. Want," Obadiah mocked. "Want doesn't make the money, Tony. If we changed direction, stock would drop."

"Minimum being 40 points, I know. But Obie-"

"No buts. We aren't changing."

"This isn't 'we'. I own the company. My name is on almost everything."

"Almost."

"I can make this company into something better."

"And destroy your father's legacy?"

Tony stopped. Stane smiled, like a predator about to pounce. He stood, tucking his hands in his pockets. "We can talk about this later, Anthony," Tony barely hid the wince his full first name caused him. "I think we need another model by the end of the week."

He stood, slumping his shoulders purposefully to make Obadiah think he had won. He ducked his head down, letting his bangs cover his eyes, and turned away.

He walked out of the penthouse office looking dejected, but as soon as he heard the click of the door, he stood up straight.

He was no done.

The inventor just needed a different approach.

How had he not seen it before? How his godfather acted? How.... controlling he was? How he always wanted Tony to just party his heart out and be oblivious.

He had figured out what was going on over the passed few weeks, slowly coming to realize everything. It was like a punch to the gut, but this problem needed to be resolved or everything would go up in flames.

He took out his custom created smartphone (Starkphone) made by him, something he had created in the passed three weeks. Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey each had one, too.

Not even thinking about the movements of his fingers, he called Pepper. She answered on the first ring.

"Yes, Mr. Stark?" She asked. He needed to convince her to call him Tony. She'd slipped a few times, but he wanted her to call him Tony. Even if only in private.

"Hey Pep, I need your help."