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Stane turned the Pulse Pistol over in his hands like a man admiring a fine cigar.
"Mr. Lawson, you're a smart man. I think you understand what I'm getting at. To Tony, this " he held up the pistol "is a curiosity. A toy. To me, it's an outstanding product with enormous commercial potential."
Kade said nothing. Stane had brought the Pulse Pistol to this meeting, which meant he'd already figured out who built it. Whether Tony had let it slip or whether Stane had deduced it on his own, the conclusion was the same: denying it would be pointless.
"You're giving me a lot of credit, Mr. Stane. I don't see how a little gadget like that matters much to Stark Industries."
"No, no, no." Stane wagged a finger. "You're selling yourself short and overestimating Tony. In my view, your work isn't far behind his. And unlike Tony, I think you and I speak the same language."
"How so?"
"Do you know how I figured out this pistol wasn't Tony's design?" Stane didn't wait for an answer. "Because I caught Tony taking it apart. Studying it. And if Tony had invented this weapon himself, he wouldn't need to reverse-engineer it he'd just build a better version from scratch with superior materials. I know Tony. That's exactly what he'd do.
"So I knew someone else designed it. And of the people who walked out of that cave alive, you were the only candidate who made sense.
"But here's what matters: after Tony finished studying your pistol, he tossed it aside. Moved on to developing his own weapons based on the technology he'd extracted from it. Your work — your creation was nothing more than a stepping stone to him. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
The sincerity in Stane's voice was almost convincing. Almost.
"Not really," Kade said. "Tony's a genius. He'll always design something better. It's natural he wouldn't fixate on my work."
"Exactly. Tony will always build something better. But his 'better' requires precision manufacturing, exotic materials, astronomical costs things that make mass production impossible. His inventions are masterpieces that will never leave the prototype stage.
"The weapons that actually sell the ones that generate real money need to be cheap, reliable, and easy to produce in volume. Both Tony and his father Howard were brilliant engineers and terrible businessmen. I don't need cutting-edge designs. I need weapons like this pistol — or even simpler. Products I can manufacture and move. Work with me, Mr. Lawson, and we can make more money than Stark Industries has ever seen."
Now Kade understood. Stane wasn't here to threaten him. He was here to recruit him.
For a moment, Kade considered it.
Stane was Stark Industries' CEO and its second-largest shareholder. His resources rivaled Tony's. And there was a practical advantage that Tony couldn't offer: Stane was a businessman. He understood transactions you deliver, I pay, clean and simple. With Tony, everything ran on friendship and mutual inspiration, which made it awkward for Kade to ask for materials outright. With Stane, it would be purely transactional. No guilt, no social debt.
Stane's plan was clear enough. Tony had shut down weapons manufacturing, leaving a vacuum in the defense market. Stane was siphoning funds to build a new arms company from scratch — his own contacts, his own supply chains to scoop up every contract Tony had abandoned. He needed an engineer who could deliver practical, manufacturable designs. Not a genius who built one-of-a-kind marvels. A workhorse.
But after thinking it through, Kade shook his head.
"I appreciate the offer, Mr. Stane. But I'll have to pass."
Stane's expression cooled. "I'd like to hear why."
"I'll give you two reasons. First I don't need money. Second I don't do business with people who open negotiations by surrounding me with armed men."
There was a third reason Kade kept to himself: Stane's conspiracy against Tony was going to blow up in his face very soon. Partnering with a man whose empire had days left was bad business by any measure.
Beneath his sleeve, the metal bracelet on his wrist had begun to glow faintly. One thought and the Sensory Gauntlet would deploy blade extended, magnetic force multiplied. At this distance, if Stane ordered his men to move, Kade would carve through every one of them before the first gun cleared its holster.
But Stane surprised him.
Instead of anger, the old man smiled broad, warm, and entirely too comfortable for a man who'd just been rejected.
"Fair point. I forgot my manners. Business should be conducted with sincerity, and I clearly started on the wrong foot. Let me show you what sincerity looks like, Mr. Lawson."
"Do what you want. I don't think you have anything that would interest me."
"You might be surprised." The warmth drained from Stane's face, replaced by something harder. "But I should mention if I demonstrate sufficient sincerity and you still refuse to work with me, I'll make sure you understand how arms dealers handle rejection. We're a different breed of businessman."
"I look forward to finding out."
Kade walked straight through the line of suits. They parted for him whether on Stane's signal or out of self-preservation instinct, he didn't know and didn't care. He didn't look back.
Whatever candy-coated offer Stane came up with next, Kade's plan was simple: eat the candy and spit the bullet back.
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