Movie Tech Extraction in Marvel

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Already 44 Chapters + daily 2 CHAPTERS.

Bobby Lyle watched from the control booth, still marveling. On the motion-capture stage below, Aidan Parker commanded the set with the quiet, unshakeable authority of a director twice his age.

"When we first started," Bobby had explained to the team, his face still full of wonder, "I was worried. We still needed to hire a professional director and a cinematographer."

"The photographer, find the best you can," Aidan had said, not looking up from his script. "As for the director... I'll handle it."

Bobby had almost laughed, but then he remembered the disciplined genius of the script, the perfect marketability of Baymax, and the look in the boy's eyes. He remembered Real Steel. Now, watching Aidan guide an actor through a complex emotional scene, he knew he'd made the right choice.

The work was intense, a welcome distraction for Aidan. But the real world had a way of intruding. One afternoon, his phone rang, displaying a secure number he recognized. He stepped off the set. "Tony?"

The sound on the other end was a chaotic mix of distant shouting and explosions. Tony's voice was grim, weary, and laced with fury. "Aidan. I have news about Yinsen."

"What happened?" Aidan asked, his own voice tensing.

"He went back to his hometown, Gulmira, to help," Tony said, his voice strained. "The same Ten Rings cell that grabbed us… they took over the town. They took him again. To force him to work for them."

"Did you get him out?" Aidan asked, his knuckles white.

"Yeah," Tony said, a heavy sigh echoing down the line. "I got him out." The sound of a powerful repulsor blast punctuated the statement. "I'm there now. It's a war zone, Aidan. All because of weapons with my name on them."

"The men responsible, the ones who took him. Are they dealt with?" Aidan's voice was cold as ice.

"They're solved," Tony confirmed. "All of them."

"And what about the town? The weapons?"

"I'm… I'm donating to the relief effort," Tony said, his voice sounding small and inadequate.

"That's it?" Aidan asked, his voice dangerously quiet. "You're going to write a check?"

"What else can I do? I can't just—"

"Yes, you can," Aidan snapped, his own frustration boiling over. "You can cut the head off the snake. But you won't." He knew Tony knew. He knew Tony must suspect Obadiah. But he was hesitating.

Tony was silent for a long moment. Aidan could hear the unspoken conflict, the loyalty warring with the terrible truth. "I…"

Aidan didn't wait for the excuse. He ended the call, a cold fury settling in his heart.

"Let's wrap for the day," he announced to the stunned crew, then grabbed his jacket and left without another word. He drove to the Golden Gate Bridge and walked out onto the pedestrian path, the cold wind whipping at him. He stared at the water, his mind a storm of recalibrating plans. Tony's sentimentality was a liability.

In the month that followed, the world began to change.

News reports were filled with blurry footage of a mysterious "flying man." The Air Force scrambled two F-22s to intercept an unidentified object over a no-fly zone, only for one of the multi-million-dollar jets to be damaged in the encounter. Just as the pilot ejected into a failing parachute, the mysterious flying man appeared, saving him before rocketing away.

In a dark, industrial workshop, Obadiah Stane screamed at his team of scientists. "Tony Stark built this in a cave! With a box of scraps! Why can't you replicate it?" They couldn't replicate the miniature Arc Reactor, the heart of the armor.

His salvation came from a secret meeting in a sterile hotel room. A nervous, second-in-command from the decimated Ten Rings cell that had held Tony, its leader Raza now dead, offered a deal. He had the blueprints for the armor Tony had built in the cave. In exchange for this prize, he wanted a few of these new "Iron Soldiers" for his own organization. Obadiah agreed. The data drive was exchanged for a briefcase. As the terrorist turned to leave, Obadiah's men stepped out of the shadows and silenced him and his guards permanently.

Back at Stark Industries, Obadiah excitedly oversaw the construction of his own suit, a monstrous, up-scaled version of Tony's Mark I. It was a mobile fortress, but without a power source, it was just a very large paperweight.

The three men who had been in the cave each walked their own path. Yinsen stayed in Gulmira, tirelessly treating the refugees, his work a quiet penance for a world torn apart by violence. Tony became a phantom, a global crusade in a suit of red and gold, hunting down and destroying every weapon that bore his family's name.

And Aidan poured all his focus and frustration into his film. The work was a solace, a universe where he had total control. The animation was nearing completion. In two months, it would be ready for a publisher. He knew Disney was the right fit for a film this full of heart, but he wasn't sure if they'd be willing to partner with his new, unproven studio.

His thoughts were interrupted by an urgent email from Yinsen. Aidan, my work here is done for now. The people are safe. I am coming to New York. It is time we began ours.

Simultaneously, Tony, having dismantled his last known weapons cache, put his own final plan into motion. "Pepper," he said, his voice grim. "I need you to go into Obadiah's office. There's a back-end accounting file that only he can access. I need every shipment record, every transaction. I need to know who he's been selling to under the table."

Pepper, her face pale but determined, nodded. Later that night, she slipped into Obadiah's office, her heart pounding as she inserted a flash drive into his main computer. The files copied with agonizing slowness. Just as the progress bar hit 100%, she heard footsteps. Obadiah entered the office. She managed to stammer an excuse and leave, but as she walked away, he saw it—the flash drive still in the computer's port.

He knew. He'd been exposed.

As Pepper hurried toward the exit, she nearly collided with a calm man in a simple suit. "Ms. Potts?" Agent Phil Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division said. "I was hoping we could have a word."

Obadiah watched them walk away together from his office window. The game was over. It was time to put on the suit.

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