After closing my negotiation in the desert with Tony Stark, I returned to New York to resume my facade. I went back to my "quiet" life as a simple child prodigy, letting my enforcers—Marcus, Ophelia, Vargas, and a growing Harley, learning from mercenaries and business dealings—handle the dirty work.

  I spent the following weeks rexing in the high-security offices of Ats Corporation, patiently waiting for the alibi of my supposed "genius camp" to end.

  During that time of apparent calm, my [Augmented Reality Map] showed me the fruit of my bor: the Queens underworld had finally been 100% unified. With resources flowing and no competition, the district was mine. But my mind was already set on a bigger game.

  The news broke just as I predicted. Tony Stark returned and, in a suicidal press conference, shut down his weapons division. Stark Industries stock plummeted in freefall. It was time to execute the next phase.

  Marcus, following my script to the letter, entered the Stark Industries boardroom like a wounded lion. Facing the panicked executives, he appeared furious, smming the table and berating Obadiah Stane.

  "We had a deal, Stane!" Marcus bellowed, feigning indignation. "You promised stability and a strategic merger, but your stocks are nose-diving. You are ruining my investment!"

  His performance was impeccable. The other investors, scared by the votility and Ats's fury, started selling, driving the price down even further.

  Obadiah, sweating cold but maintaining his snake-like charisma, used the full power of his silver tongue. He appealed for calm, assuring that it was a temporary phase and that Tony's ingenuity would raise the company again. "It's just a bump in the road, Marcus. The Stark name always recovers," he promised, trying to buy time.

  Marcus, feigning reluctance, sighed and rubbed his temples, as if making a painful decision.

  "I'm not happy, Obadiah. This is a disaster," Marcus said coldly. "But my company respects Howard Stark's history. I will make a leap of faith, not for you, but for the legacy."

  At that moment, while everyone was panic-selling, Marcus bought. He acquired massive packages of shares at a bargain price due to the 40-point drop in stock, raising our stake to a monstrous 34%.

  "I'll give you a few weeks to fix this mess," Marcus sentenced. "If not, Ats will take measures, now that I am the second-rgest stakeholder in this company, right under Tony Stark with his 51%."

  The maneuver was aggressive, and it came with an immediate cost.

  To finance the massive purchase of Stark Industries shares, Marcus had to drain Ats Corporation's liquid reserves. It was a capital hemorrhage. Financial reports from our logistics and technology areas began showing arming red numbers; on paper, we were on the brink of technical insolvency.

  This caused Ats's own shares to fall on the stock market due to investor distrust. And fear, as always, revealed the traitors.

  My own Board of Directors, composed of straw men I had pced there at the beginning, committed the audacity of rebelling. In their panic over losing their dividends, they demanded Marcus desist from the Stark purchase and liquidate assets to save the ship.

  They forgot very quickly that their positions were not due to their talent, but because "The Ghost" had extorted them at the company's inception to put their names on the paperwork, while the real money always came from my dealings in the underworld.

  "They are scared, Leo," Marcus informed me. "They want to block the operation."

  I smiled beneath the mask. "No, Marcus. This isn't a problem; it's a cleaning opportunity."

  I ordered Marcus to execute a "stock buyback." Taking advantage of the fact that Ats's value had temporarily dropped, we offered to buy their shares at "market price." To them, it seemed like a dignified exit: they took a juicy sum of quick cash and fled the ship before it (according to them) sank. In reality, I was paying them pennies for what would soon be worth millions.

  Most sold, blinded by fear. But there were three stubborn shareholders who refused to let go of their share, smelling that Marcus was up to something.

  That same night, "The Ghost" paid them a personal visit in their luxurious penthouses. There was no need for physical violence; it was enough to appear in their bedrooms, leave a folder with their darkest secrets on the nightstand, and whisper a final offer. The next morning, all three signed the immediate sale, trembling.

  With that move, Marcus regained almost total control of the company, leaving us as the only ones deciding Ats's fate. To maintain the appearance of legality and not raise suspicions with the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC), we released a small percentage of "Css B" shares (non-voting) for Wall Street and some high-profile investors who wished to enter legally.

  Ats was now internally armored.

  The pn followed its course. The external tension finally exploded in the battle: Iron Man versus Iron Monger. The reactor roof blew, taking Obadiah and the building with it.

  The next morning, SHIELD's cover-up machinery went into action. The official version was ughable but effective: an "accident with a robotic prototype" at the factory and an unfortunate "small pne crash" during Obadiah's vacation.

  Taking advantage of the chaos and the mass yoffs that followed the definitive closure of the weapons division, Marcus made his next master move. He recruited the best scientists and engineers Stark had left on the street. Ats welcomed them with open arms and ironcd contracts.

  As for Obadiah's death, Marcus didn't even blink upon learning his "partner" had perished. His only immediate reaction was to observe the situation and wait, following the orders of his "ghost" boss.

  Days ter, Tony Stark met with Marcus. The billionaire seemed genuinely surprised that Ats hadn't sold its shares after the disaster.

  "Thanks for not jumping ship, Marcus," said Tony, with that sincerity rare in him. "Most would have fled."

  Marcus maintained his mask of a pragmatic and somewhat annoyed investor. "Don't get confused, Stark. I didn't sell because at this point, selling would have meant accepting losses," he replied dryly. "My only option was to stay and pray that your brain is worth what they say. Don't disappoint me."

  Tony nodded, accepting the harshness of business. Little did he know that we already owned almost half of his empire.

  And then, it happened. The final press conference. Tony stood before the microphones, ignored the SHIELD cue cards, and dropped the four words that would change the global economy and shoot the value of my stocks into the stratosphere:

  "I am Iron Man."

  The stocks skyrocketed.

  Having a confirmed superhero as CEO instantly turned the Stark brand into the most famous and valuable on the pnet. This was where Marcus's suicidal bet—or rather, my direct order—paid astronomical dividends. That 34% of the company, bought at scrap value prices when everyone was fleeing, transformed overnight into an incalcuble fortune. On paper, Ats Corporation had just made billions.

  Of course, paper doesn't pay the bills. To get Ats out of the red immediately and guarantee the operability of our security and technology divisions, I pulled a quick maneuver: I sold a strategic 3% of my shares taking advantage of the peak price and used the rest of the package as bank colteral to secure a massive loan.

  Liquidity resolved. Business secured.

  But while the world celebrated and the accountants popped champagne, I wasn't blinded by the glitter of gold. This world wasn't a static comic book; it was a living economic reality, and I knew how to read between the lines.

  Stark Industries was synonymous with weapons. Without weapons, on paper, the company was nothing. Tony still hadn't announced anything about selling clean energy; all that rally in the stock market was based purely on feverish specution.

  I sat down with Marcus, my CEO and trusted accountant, to analyze the collective madness. And then I understood.

  When Tony said "I am Iron Man," the public saw a hero in shining armor. But Wall Street... Wall Street saw something much more valuable: The Arc Reactor and the Suit.

  The investors weren't stupid. They understood instantly that if Stark could power a combat armor capable of flying at supersonic speeds, it meant he possessed the patent for the most powerful and clean battery in history. Furthermore, they saw a ptform for weapons of mass destruction that every army in the world would kill to buy.

  I smiled cynically as I looked at the reports. Wall Street was right about the reactor, but they were completely wrong about the suit.

  I knew what they were ignoring: Tony Stark would never sell his armor. His ego and his trauma would prevent him. The investors were betting on a future of military sales that would never come.

  That thought pulled at a deeper thread in my memory. Tony Stark was an unparalleled creative genius, yes, but he was never a businessman. In the first movie, it was clear that Obadiah Stane was the financial brain keeping the company profitable (and dirty) while Tony pyed in his workshop.

  Now Obadiah was dead. Pepper Potts would assume command, but there would be a chaotic transition period. Tony would be too busy "privatizing world peace," enjoying his fame, and flying in his suit, totally neglecting the commercial side of civil innovation.

  According to my calcutions and memories of the canon, at least six months would pass until the events of Iron Man 2, when Tony finally inaugurates the "Stark Expo" and starts selling the idea of "Clean Energy."

  Six months. Half a year where the world's rgest technology company wouldn't have new products on the market because its owner was distracted being a superhero.

  I had time. A lot of time.

  It was the perfect window of opportunity to take the blueprints I stole from him in the desert—the Mark 1 and the Arc Reactor—and apply Reverse Engineering to create "degraded technology." Diluted products, for civil or medical use, that the world would devour while Stark enjoyed his fame.

  A slow smile spread across my face, and for the first time in a long time, my gaze didn't reflect survival, but pure corporate greed.

  "Marcus," I said, closing the report folder. "It is time for Ats Corporation to stop being just security and technological research in its infancy. We are going to fill the void Stark has left."

  Thus began the true expansion of my empire.

  sarbleinletter