At exactly eight o'clock in the morning, the sudden, insistent ringing of a phone echoed through a lavish, private villa on Long Island, New York.
The man asleep in the vast bed stirred, opening his eyes only to squint at the annoyingly bright sunlight pouring through the window. He rubbed his impossibly messy, bird's-nest of blonde hair and reluctantly hauled himself out of the covers.
Ten minutes later, the half-naked man finally made it to the living room and clicked on the flashing voicemail indicator.
First, his mother's voice, cheerful and hurried: "Darling, it's Mom. I hear you're back from China; I hope you managed to relax. I got tied up with work and am already on a plane headed for France. I expect to be gone for about four months. A teacher from Xavier's School called me; apparently, your sister is acting up again and needs you to sort it out. So, after you've had a chance to rest, please take a quick trip to Staten Island. Also, if you run into any serious trouble, contact me immediately. I refuse to let Charisse turn into a street punk."
Next, a familiar, alluring voice: "Yi, it's Ororo. I know you're back. First, thank you so much for the gift you sent from China; it's genuinely beautiful, and I adore it. Second, your sister has seriously violated school rules recently. She used her powers to sneak out late with a few other young troublemakers, and we're worried they might be going to places they shouldn't. So, I think it'd be best if you had a strong talk with Charisse when you're free. Alright, let's catch up when you're not so busy!"
Finally, a flippant, distinctive male voice: "Hey, darling Yi! Heard you're back from China. Good for you. Well, I hope those lovely Chinese girls aren't too heartbroken about your departure. Look, I really hate to interrupt your perpetual vacation—not that you ever stop taking them—but I need your help."
That voice continued, "Obadiah is pushing to sell our company's Jericho missiles to extremist armed groups in the Middle East. God knows what he's thinking. I've tried to talk sense into him, but he's absolutely determined this time, even calling a Board of Directors meeting to vote on the proposal, and he's managed to sway quite a few people. You know I need serious support to shut him down, so as a friend, you won't refuse me, right? I'm waiting for your RSVP. ASAP!"
Zhou Yi—now a fully grown man of twenty-four, taller, broader, and radiating the confident air of a seasoned operator—rubbed his chin, listening to the barrage of urgent requests. He decided to tackle the most time-sensitive calls first. He retrieved his phone and dialed a number.
The phone rang twice before being answered.
"Hey, Yi. Calling this early isn't like you. You're not calling just because you missed me, are you?" a woman's cheerful voice, instantly recognizable as Ororo's, came through the line.
"Ororo, if you say that, I'll be deeply offended," Zhou Yi replied smoothly, slipping easily back into their habitual flirting dynamic. "You know, when I was in China, you were constantly on my mind. I rushed to call you the moment I got back, just to hear your voice."
A soft, knowing chuckle came from the other end. "That's a lovely line. I sincerely hope you haven't been breaking too many naive young hearts in China. Now, tell me, what do you really want from me?"
"Hey! I've never tricked anyone, and you know my concern for you is always genuine."
"Of course, of course. But you care about more than just me. Look, I've got to run to class. If you need anything else, swing by the school after my classes this afternoon." Ororo ended the call abruptly. Zhou Yi could only scratch his jaw awkwardly before dialing his next number.
"Hello, this is the Stark residence. I'm Jarvis. Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Zhou Yi?"
"Jarvis, is Tony around? If he is, please put me through to him."
"No problem, please hold a moment, Mr. Zhou Yi."
After about ten seconds, Tony Stark's flippant voice cut in. "I thought you were going to vanish for another decade, Yi!"
"If it wasn't for your desperate plea, I probably would've disappeared a bit longer. I just contacted a new fighting coach, you know."
"Alright, alright, Great Master of Combat. Let's focus on the crisis. What's your decision about the Obadiah problem?"
"You're the boss on this one. Don't worry, I'll back you up fully." Zhou Yi used a subtle thought to lift the phone and hold it steady in mid-air with his telekinesis, giving his hands freedom to put on his tailored suit jacket.
"That is an immense relief! With your six percent stake, this problem is solved. Consider this a huge favor I owe you." The loud sigh of relief from Tony Stark made Zhou Yi smile slightly.
"I don't get it, Tony," Zhou Yi said, adjusting his tie. "Since you hate the idea, why don't you just shut him down directly? That missile system is your invention. Contractually, as long as you veto it, even a shareholders' meeting can't override you. The patent is in your name."
"Hey! Look, Obadiah was my father's friend, and Stark Industries wouldn't be this empire without his decades of hard work. For both sentimental reasons and professional courtesy, I have to give him a little dignity. What you suggested can only be the absolute last resort."
Zhou Yi conceded the point with a small nod, moving to change the subject. "What time does the meeting start? If I'm late, you're flying solo."
"Even if I have to physically drag the proceedings out, I'll wait for you. The meeting starts at ten sharp. Given your absolutely insane driving skills, getting to Stark Tower by ten shouldn't be an issue."
"Oh, look at that! Our famous playboy is actually complimenting someone else's driving. That's a first." Zhou Yi laughed as he grabbed his briefcase and walked toward the villa door.
"After seeing the way you treat a steering wheel, I decided to keep a respectable distance from lunatics like you—but only when you're driving! Alright, I've got to go, Yi. Obadiah just arrived. You'd better floor it; I don't want a lecture from the old goat before you get here."
"Don't worry. I'll be there very soon!" Zhou Yi hung up, slid into the driver's seat of a black Tyrannosaurus V-EX, and with a deep, menacing roar from the engine, sped out onto the road toward Manhattan.
Meanwhile, on Manhattan Island, inside the corporate headquarters of Stark Industries, Tony Stark and a tall, middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed mustache embraced. The two laughed as they headed toward the top-floor conference room of Stark Tower.
"Tony, you've truly wounded me this time. You know everything I do is for the greater good of Stark Industries. Why can't you see that?" The middle-aged man, Obadiah Stane, looked at Tony with a pained, reproachful expression, as if Tony were a wayward, foolish son squandering a legacy.
Tony Stark puffed out his cheeks, muttering, "Here we go again," under his breath. He casually countered Obadiah's accusation.
"Dear Uncle Obadiah, of course, I know the immense economic benefit this deal would bring. But there are certain lines we shouldn't cross. We sell weapons, but that doesn't mean we should fuel every questionable conflict. At the very least, the people in the White House won't approve of us doing this."
"Those idiots in the White House? Money can shut them up, Tony, so don't use such weak excuses to placate me," Obadiah sneered, dismissing the political concerns. He then adopted a posture of earnest advice. "Tony, no one rejects profit. War isn't our fault. We are simply the suppliers of the tools, not the instigators. What happens over there has nothing to do with us."
Obadiah's expression—that look of "hating iron for not becoming steel"—almost made the legendary playboy repent for his past misdeeds. Almost.
Tony Stark and Obadiah Stane continued their verbal sparring as they stepped into the conference room, which was already filled with company shareholders and key decision-makers. Everyone stood respectfully as the two leaders entered.
As the meeting was poised to begin, Obadiah patted Tony's shoulder and leaned in to whisper. "Tony, you'd better not act on impulse this time. You must believe that my choice is what's best for Stark Industries."
"Of course, of course," Tony blinked, his neatly trimmed beard twitching with amusement. "I always make the right decisions."
Driving the Tyrannosaurus V-EX, which roared like a rampaging, powerful beast, Zhou Yi screeched into the underground parking lot of Stark Headquarters amid a flurry of strange, concerned glances. The thunderous engine naturally drew the attention of the security detail and the beautiful, elegant secretary who had been waiting for him.
"Good morning, Pepper! I truly didn't expect Tony to let you wait for me here. I thought he was determined to keep you and me permanently separated, like a prison sentence!"
Pepper Potts, a shrewd and capable blonde beauty, smiled mischievously. "I believe Mr. Zhou Yi, who has been long imprisoned, finally received the Warden's approval, allowing me a brief visitation."
"Alright, alright. You always side with Tony," Zhou Yi sighed dramatically. "Fortunately, the clever Mr. Zhou Yi anticipated this situation. Beautiful Miss Potts, your bribe has already been handed over to His Excellency the Warden, and I assume your esteemed Warden will hand it over to you immediately." Zhou Yi and Pepper chatted and laughed as they entered the elevator leading directly to the conference floor.
"Yi, you know Tony. He definitely wouldn't easily hand over something someone else gave me," Pepper lamented, clearly suffering a familiar headache from managing these two notoriously playful superiors.
"Then that, combining wisdom and beauty, is Miss Potts's problem to solve," Zhou Yi declared. He pushed open the heavy conference room door and spoke loudly to the room that had instantly fallen silent:
"Good morning, everyone! Whatever important matter you're discussing, please be sure to include me. As the third-largest shareholder of Stark Industries, I still believe I have a right to vote."
Obadiah Stane, who had been smugly leaning over the table, glowering down at Tony, watched Zhou Yi burst into the room. His mouth gaped in utter disbelief. He then rounded on Tony, roaring in a low, furious voice, "You called this guy back?!"
"It honestly wasn't me, I swear!" Tony raised his hands emphatically in mock protest.
Most of the people present rolled their eyes. Tony Stark's reputation preceded him; his oath carried about as much weight as a paper balloon.
"Yi Zhou, this is a Stark Industries Board of Directors meeting. You are forty minutes late. As the initiator of this gathering, I don't believe you have any right to participate or speak," Obadiah spat out through clenched teeth.
Dealing with one infuriating Tony Stark was bad enough; with a second, equally unpredictable force like Zhou Yi now present, his confidence in passing the missile proposal had dropped by eighty percent. But he wouldn't quit. He had to try and remove the intruder.