Chapter 05: The Old Man’s Ambition

Leimu’s group safely arrived at the U.S. military base stationed in Afghanistan.

All the way, his identity and powers remained completely hidden. After all, as long as Stark didn’t say anything, who would suspect a non-human among them?

Colonel Rhodey definitely noticed that Leimu and Stark were hiding something, among many other suspicious details.

Like—how could a supposed Afghan hunter understand and speak English so fluently?

But since Stark clearly intended to hide it, he wisely chose not to ask. When it came to his best bro, Rhodey trusted him.

Also, Leimu didn’t look threatening at all.

At the base, they rested briefly. A medic gave Stark some basic wound care.

While Stark was being treated, Leimu wandered around the base.

There were lots of fascinating machines—helicopters, armored vehicles, anti-air missiles, even two F-22 Raptor fighter jets.

But the place was tightly guarded, with personnel stationed everywhere.

Thanks to Stark’s connections, Leimu was allowed to roam freely—but every time he tried to touch something, he was immediately stopped.

A normal person might feel guilty sneaking around a U.S. base, but this slime understood perfectly: “If your logic’s weak, be bold. If you’re a thief, don’t act guilty.” And so, he swaggered around the military web with impunity.

Leimu also discovered something else—his appearance could significantly lower most people’s guard.

If he pouted or bit his lip with a pitiful or accusing look, the effect was even stronger. Sometimes it even made people feel guilty.

After all, most people are suckers for a pretty face.

/——————

After bandaging up, Stark, Leimu, and Colonel Rhodey boarded a private jet bound for California, USA.

After a dozen hours of flight, they reached their destination.

At the wide-open airport, two people came to meet them.

One was Tony Stark’s personal assistant, Pepper Potts—aka Little Pepper.

The other was the chauffeur who sometimes doubled as a bodyguard.

“Pepper” means pepper, but it wasn’t a reference to her being spicy—in fact, quite the opposite. Aside from being sharp and capable at work, Pepper was very gentle in private.

She had long blond hair tied up and wore a fitted women’s business suit, the image of a professional.

At this moment, seeing Stark step off the plane, her eyes reddened with tears of joy.

Stark shrugged off Rhodey’s support and walked toward his lovely assistant, inspecting her carefully.

“Your eyes are red. Crying for your long-lost boss?”

Pepper smiled through her tears. “I’m just happy. I hate job hunting.”

“Yep, your vacation’s over.”

Pepper leaned slightly to peek at the person behind Stark.

She took a deep breath, calming the emotions stirred by seeing Stark again. With a gentle smile, she nodded at Leimu. “You haven’t introduced us. Who is she?”

Stark threw up his hands and waved toward the car. “It’s complicated, Miss Potts. We’ll talk later.”

Leimu and Pepper exchanged a wave—an informal greeting.

At the wheel was a burly white man, Happy Hogan—Stark’s driver and sometimes bodyguard.

In Leimu’s memory, this guy might later become Peter Parker’s uncle… or was it uncle-in-law?

Right now, he didn’t look as chubby as he would in the future—still pretty buff.

Happy Hogan asked, “Where to, sir?”

“Three things—get us some cheeseburgers. Pepper, set up a press conference. Then take this kid home to freshen up.”

Stark looked at Leimu. “We’ve got something to talk about later. Something important.”

Pepper looked confused. “Press conference? What for?”

“Alright, Happy, drive. Get the burgers first.”

Stark tapped his chest with a clang-clang. “I’ll explain on the way.”

/——————

Stark Industries—a U.S.-based multinational company, NYSE code: SIA, NASDAQ code: STRK.

It was a weapons manufacturer founded around 1940 by Howard Stark.

“Peace is having a bigger stick than the other guy.”

That was Howard’s guiding principle.

The Stark family—Howard and Tony—both considered themselves patriots and peacekeepers. They were also equally arrogant, trusting only their own chosen path.

Obadiah Stane was a senior executive at Stark Industries and once Howard’s partner.

He wasn’t interested in peace. Wealth and power were his lifelong pursuits.

He and Howard had built Stark Industries from the ground up together in the previous century, enduring hardship to get it off the ground.

During the company’s early days, he was its sharpest sword, fiercest spear—fighting off countless rivals, seizing more ground, crushing competitors, and earning massive credit for the company’s success.

And indeed, that was the truth.

Now in his sixties, he possessed unmatched wealth and reputation—but was still missing one thing.

Power. The kind of absolute power where his word was law.

Ever since Stark’s disappearance, Stark Industries had effectively become his personal kingdom.

Every day, he lounged in the CEO’s office, puffing cigars, sipping whiskey, flipping through magazines and reports—millions rolling in by the minute. Life couldn’t be better.

Then one morning, a piece of news blew up his peaceful life like a nuclear bomb.

Tony Stark—wasn’t dead. And he was coming back today!

Obadiah’s face darkened. He casually tossed aside his magazine, crushed his cigar on the keyboard, the smoke curling around his fingers before vanishing.

His face twisted with rage… Why do you get to come back alive? Who the hell do you think you are, Stark?!

Stark Industries is the empire I, Obadiah, built!

The one who sits on this throne—must be me, and only me…

/——————

Outside Stark Industries.

The place was packed with people welcoming Stark’s return—executives, employees, reporters, and random onlookers, shoulder to shoulder.

Obadiah led the welcoming party, standing front and center.

The sixty-something old man wore a wide grin, looking kind and approachable. Dressed in a suit, with a bushy white beard and cool sunglasses, his bald head seemed to glow with saintly light.

He looked like that cool, fun, understanding uncle everyone wished they had.

“Over here!”

Stark stepped out of the car. The old man jogged a few steps, waving to the crowd like a proud father showing off his son who’d just returned from war.

The crowd responded enthusiastically with thunderous applause.

Obadiah turned, spread his arms wide, and hugged Stark with joyful exaggeration. “Tony! I thought you were in the hospital. Look at you—still in good shape!”

Though Obadiah had been running things for over a decade, Stark was still uncomfortable with the man’s excessive enthusiasm. He stared blankly at Obadiah.

Happy handed Stark a bag of burgers. Obadiah spotted it and joked, “Oh, burgers! Got one for me?”

Stark walked toward the building, replying with a straight face, “Uh… last one. I’m eating it myself.”

Inside was the press conference hall. The reporters had been waiting a long time.

/——————

Pepper Potts and Leimu left early.

After arranging the press conference, the blond assistant took Leimu in her own car.

Leimu sat in the passenger seat, munching on a bag of burgers, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel.

He hadn’t eaten in ages—he really missed this flavor. There were two burgers left in the bag, and he’d already devoured three without hesitation.

Pepper glanced sideways at him, a bit surprised—he looked so small, yet could eat so much.

With a gentle smile, she softly greeted him, careful not to startle him. “Hi, I’m Pepper. Pepper Potts. I’m Tony’s personal assistant. What should I call you?”

Leimu swallowed his burger, smiled, and revealed two little tiger teeth. “Leimu Echeverría. I’m the child of a hunter in Afghanistan. Got captured by terrorists, then escaped with Mr. Stark.”

What a beautiful smile—so bright and pure, Pepper thought.

“And your family? They didn’t come with you to the U.S.?”

“Mm… they’re all dead.”

Laimu thought this way—humans have limited lifespans, and he’d been trapped in that unknown darkness for a very long time, so the people he knew from the other world were most likely all long dead. So, he was just telling the truth.

But Pepper’s heart tightened, a trace of guilt rising in her chest, yet she didn’t know what to say.

She shouldn’t have brought that up… Poor child, her family must have been killed by terrorists, and she was the only one who survived.

Yet even after experiencing such tragedy, she still looked so optimistic and lively.

Caught in a loop of internal guilt and emotional turmoil, Pepper’s eyes began to redden slightly, and she felt a wave of emotion welling up.

She couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle Laimu’s light blue hair. There was still a bit of sand in it, and it wasn’t smooth—but that only made her seem more pitiful.

Laimu clutched his burger protectively against his chest. What’s going on? Why the sudden handsy behavior?

/——————

My name is Phil Coulson, agent of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.

By the time you read this, I’ve already been working in this ridiculously long-named agency for over twenty years.

Twenty years ago I was an agent, and twenty years later, I’m still an agent.

For all those years, I’ve worked under Nick Fury—diligent, hardworking, never complaining.

I went from a head of black hair to slightly balding, while Fury successfully became director. Time truly flies.

I’m now a seasoned veteran. After all these years, composure and courtesy are my creed, meticulousness is my principle.

Today, I received another mission from Fury—to investigate the illegal weapon leaks from the U.S.’s largest arms manufacturer, Stark Industries, and to look into the details surrounding billionaire Tony Stark’s escape from Afghanistan.

But billionaires are never easy to deal with—neither are the people around them.

According to the files, Stark’s personal assistant Pepper Potts was supposed to be someone approachable. But she’s disappeared somewhere.

So, I tried to ask Stark’s driver, Happy Hogan, for some information.

Now, as you can see, this burly man is yanking me by the collar through the car window, yelling into my ear with a mouth that smells like burgers.

“NO COMMENT!!”

My name is Happy Hogan. I’m a professional bodyguard—driving is just my side hustle.

My professional ethic is to protect my employer at all costs—not just his life, but also his secrets.

I would never tell anyone that my boss Tony Stark might have brought back an illegitimate daughter from Afghanistan. If that got out, it’d cause him all kinds of trouble!

And as Tony’s friend, I’m honestly happy for him. He’s been alone and wild for years. Maybe now he’ll finally settle down.

Yes, I could see it in his eyes—Tony has changed. He’s become more mature and responsible.