Chapter 207: Chapter 207: Brooms and Bad News

Twenty minutes later, they were in the living room. Tony had changed into dry clothes and was holding a mug of hot coffee, staring at the jagged hole in his piano, which had been a casualty of his re-entry.

“I really need to stop testing inside the house,” Tony said, settling onto the one couch that hadn’t been covered in drywall dust.

Arthur took a seat across from him, Elena curling up at his side. “The structural damage is significant.”

“Eh. Insurance will cover it.” Tony waved dismissively. “Or I’ll just rebuild it myself. Might add some upgrades while I’m at it.”

He fell silent then, his gaze drifting to the hole above them, but Arthur could tell he wasn’t seeing the damage. His mind was elsewhere—calculating, analyzing, running through the problem that had nearly killed him.

“The icing problem,” Arthur said. It wasn’t a question.

Tony’s eyes snapped to him. “Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The higher I go, the colder it gets. Below a certain temperature, the suit’s systems just… freeze. Literally. The repulsors lose power, the servos lock up, and I drop like a very expensive stone.”

“What materials are you using for the outer shell?”

“Standard aerospace-grade alloys. Titanium primarily, with some composite elements for weight reduction.”

Arthur nodded slowly. “Have you considered a gold-titanium alloy?”

Tony blinked. “Gold? That’s… unconventional.”

“Gold has excellent thermal conductivity and corrosion resistance.” Arthur paused, organizing his thoughts. “If you integrate it properly with your existing titanium framework—perhaps a microscale lattice structure rather than a simple plating—you could create a shell that actively disperses cold rather than absorbing it. Combined with rerouting a small percentage of your arc reactor’s thermal output through the suit’s surface layer, you could maintain operational temperature even at high altitude.”

Tony stared at him.

“The reactor already generates excess heat,” Arthur continued. “You’re venting most of it as waste. Instead, channel it through a network of micro-conduits beneath the outer shell. The gold-titanium alloy would distribute that heat evenly, preventing ice formation while the thermal conductivity keeps the suit from overheating at lower altitudes.”

The silence stretched.

“That…” Tony’s voice was strange. “That actually makes sense. The lattice structure would maintain tensile strength while the gold handles the thermal issues. And using the reactor’s waste heat…” He trailed off, his eyes going distant as calculations ran behind them. “That could work. That could actually work.”

Then his gaze sharpened, focusing on Arthur with sudden intensity.

“Wait. How do you know this? I thought you were a finance genius. Mergers and acquisitions. Stock markets. Not… not advanced materials science and thermal dynamics.”

Arthur smiled serenely. “I am a genius. There’s quite a lot you don’t know about me, Tony.”

“Apparently.” Tony’s eyes narrowed. “What else don’t I know?”

Before Arthur could respond, Elena piped up from beside him.

“Uncle Tony knows nothing about Daddy,” Elena declared with complete confidence. “Daddy is the strongest person in the whole world.”

Tony’s eyebrows climbed in amused skepticism. “Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Stronger than me in the suit?”

Elena nodded vigorously. “Daddy could crush the suit with one punch.”

“Hey!” Tony lifted a hand, deeply offended on behalf of his creation. “Let’s not insult my baby, alright? The Mark II can lift ten tons. Ten. Tons. It has repulsors, weapons, flight systems—”

“Daddy would still win.”

Tony threw both hands up. “Okay, time out.” He pointed at Arthur. “Arthur, I know dads like to hype themselves up in front of their kids, but come on. You can’t lie that outrageously.”

Arthur coughed into his hand. “Elena, be nice.”

Elena replied, “But I am telling the truth.”

Tony jabbed a finger at Arthur. “See? This is what happens when you let your kid believe you’re Superman. Now I look like the crazy one.”

He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially to Elena. “Alright, diplomat Ellie. Your Dad is the greatest. But tell you what – if you say three things where the suit is better than your dad, I’ll take you for a ride in it.”

Elena considered this with the gravity of a diplomat weighing treaty terms.

“The suit is shinier,” she offered. “It has lots of weapons.”

“That’s two.”

“And…” She eyed Arthur critically. “It looks cooler than Daddy.”

Arthur put a hand to his chest. “I object. I look plenty cool.”

Elena shook her head. “Daddy, the suit looks like a robot. Robots are cooler. Tris would also agree.”

Arthur muttered, “Who wants to look shiny anyway? It just makes you too eye-catching.”

Tony grinned triumphantly. “The compliments are… weirdly targeted, but I’ll take them. And your dad’s reaction? Even better. Deal’s a deal: when the Mark III is done and tested, you get the first passenger flight. You’ll see the world from above the clouds.”

“Great!” Elena bounced excitedly, then paused. “But it won’t be my first time flying.”

Tony blinked. “Oh? Been on a lot of planes?”

“No.” Elena shook her head proudly. “I’ve flown lots of times with Daddy. On his broom.”

The words hung in the air.

Tony’s expression flickered—confusion, then amusement, then something more calculating. “His… broom?”

Elena’s eyes went wide. Her hand flew to her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to say that,” she whispered loudly. “Daddy said it was a secret.”

Arthur’s expression didn’t change. He maintained a calm, pleasant smile, though internally he was sighing. Kids and secrets. A terrible combination.

Tony glanced between them, gears turning hard. “So let me get this straight… you sat on a broom, and Arthur ran around the yard holding it up, making whoosh noises?”

“Something like that,” Arthur said mildly. It was technically close to the truth.

Tony burst into laughter, doubling over. “Arthur Hayes – king of finance, breaker of markets – playing backyard witch with his daughter! What’s next, making Tristan pretend to fly around like Superman?”

Arthur offered a polite smile. “I’ve done that too.”

Tony wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Well, Ellie, the suit is a very different kind of flying. Much more exciting than your dad sprinting around on the grass. You’ll see.”

Elena nodded vigorously, keeping her mouth clamped shut to prevent any more leaks about the magical world.

“Sir,” JARVIS’s voice cut through the laughter, the tone somber. “I apologize for the interruption, but there is a developing news story you should be aware of.”

The television mounted on the far wall flickered to life. A news anchor appeared, her expression grave.

“—breaking news this hour. Obadiah Stane, former co-CEO of Stark Industries who was arrested two weeks ago on charges of conspiracy to commit murder and illegal arms trafficking, has escaped during a prison transfer. Authorities say Stane was being moved to a federal facility when the convoy was ambushed by unknown assailants. Three guards were injured in the attack, and Stane’s current whereabouts are unknown. FBI sources tell us they believe Stane may have already fled the country—”

The screen showed Stane’s mugshot, followed by footage of the prison transport vehicle, doors hanging open, surrounded by police tape.

“—anyone with information on Stane’s location is urged to contact—”

“JARVIS, mute.”

The sound vanished, but the grim images kept looping, filling the silence with their weight.

Arthur and Tony sat in heavy silence. Elena, sensing the shift in mood, pressed closer to her father’s side.

“Well,” Tony said at last, the word heavy. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Nor am I.”

Tony turned, eyebrows raised. “…You expected this?”

“A man doesn’t spend two decades at the helm of Stark Industries without accumulating powerful friends. People who owe him favors.” Arthur’s tone was matter-of-fact. “The moment he was arrested, his escape became a matter of when, not if.”

Tony swallowed that, jaw tightening as he looked back at Obadiah’s frozen face on the screen.

After a moment, Arthur asked quietly, “Do you want me to handle it? I can ask Ariadne’s people to track him. Her network is extensive. If Stane is still on the planet, she can find him. Bring him back.”

Tony stared at the mugshot, eyes unreadable.

“…No,” he said finally, turning away. “Let him go.”

“Are you certain?”

“He’s done.” Tony’s voice was tired, but the resolve beneath it was steel. “After this, he can never come back here. Never touch my company. Never rebuild what he lost. And if we drag him back…” He exhaled slowly. “He’ll escape again. And again. We’ll be stuck in a revolving door of chaos.”

Arthur nodded once. “And you won’t… end it permanently.”

“No.” Something flickered in Tony’s expression—old loyalty, old affection, buried under layers of betrayal. “Whatever else he did, Obie was there for me after my parents died. He helped me through the worst years of my life. I can’t just…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I won’t be the one to finish him.”

Arthur leaned forward. “As you wish. It’s your call. But be careful, Tony. A man who falls from that height doesn’t land softly. He’ll want revenge. Because of you, he went from a king to a rat on the run.”

Tony tapped the arc reactor on his chest, its glow catching the room’s dim light. “I’m not worried about me. The suit makes sure of that.” He hesitated. “But… Pepper.”

Arthur nodded before Tony even finished. “I’ll contact Ariadne. Pepper will have the best personnel she can field.”

Relief loosened Tony’s shoulders a fraction. “Thank you.”

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