The moment the notification popped up on his phone, Paramveer Singh's heart skipped a beat. He stared at the screen, his eyes widening as he read the message: $100,000,000 has been credited to your account. For a moment, he couldn't believe it. The money was real. Tony Stark had kept his word.
Paramveer leaned back in his chair, a slow smile spreading across his face. He was rich. Not just comfortably wealthy, but *filthy* rich. The kind of rich that could change lives, build empires, and secure futures. But more than that, this money was his ticket to freedom. No more worrying about student visas, part-time jobs, or scraping by in a foreign country. He could do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, and live however he wanted.
But first, he needed to make sure the money was safe.
---
Paramveer had been smart about where he'd asked Tony to send the money. Instead of using a U.S. bank account, he'd provided details for his Indian account. There were several reasons for this. For one, he was in the U.S. on a student visa, which came with strict limitations on financial activities. Depositing $100 million into a U.S. account would have raised red flags with the government, potentially leading to audits, investigations, and a whole host of legal headaches.
Secondly, Indian banks offered higher interest rates on savings compared to their U.S. counterparts. With $100 million sitting in his account, even a modest interest rate would generate a substantial income. And finally, keeping the money in India gave him a layer of security. If things ever went south in the U.S., he could always return to India and live comfortably off his wealth.
Paramveer opened his laptop and logged into his bank's online portal. The balance was there, clear as day: 1,700,000,000 (approximately $100 million). He let out a low whistle, still unable to fully process the enormity of the number. With this kind of money, he could buy a mansion, start a business, or even retire and live a life of luxury. But Paramveer wasn't the type to sit back and do nothing. He had plans—big plans.
---
Meanwhile, in Malibu, Tony Stark was busy running his own investigation. As soon as the $100 million had been transferred, he'd instructed Jarvis to dig up everything there was to know about Paramveer Singh.
"Jarvis, bring me everything you can find on Paramveer Singh," Tony said, pacing in his workshop. "Background, education, family, financials—anything and everything."
"Right away, sir," Jarvis replied, his smooth British accent filling the room.
Within minutes, Jarvis had compiled a detailed dossier on Paramveer. Tony scanned the information, his brow furrowing as he read. Paramveer was a 18-year-old Indian national, currently studying at Midtown High School in New York City on a student visa. He had no criminal record, no known affiliations with any organizations, and no significant financial history—until now.
"Interesting," Tony muttered. "A kid with no background suddenly shows up in Afghanistan, takes out an entire terrorist base, and demands $100 million for my rescue. What are you hiding, kid?"
Tony's curiosity was piqued. He didn't like mysteries, especially when they involved someone with the kind of power Paramveer had demonstrated. But for now, he had bigger problems to deal with.
---
The door to Tony's workshop slid open, and Obadiah Stane strode in, his expression a mix of anger and concern. "Tony, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his voice booming.
Tony looked up from his workbench, where he was tinkering with the Arc Reactor. "Hey, Obie. Nice to see you too."
Obadiah ignored the sarcasm, stepping closer. "You shut down the weapons division without consulting me or the board. Do you have any idea what that's done to the company? Our stock is in freefall, investors are panicking, and our competitors are circling like vultures."
Tony sighed, setting down his tools. "I know it's a big change, Obie. But it's the right thing to do. I saw what our weapons are being used for, and I can't be a part of that anymore."
Obadiah's eyes narrowed. "This isn't just about you, Tony. Stark Industries is a multi-billion-dollar company. You can't just make unilateral decisions like this."
Tony stood, walking over to a nearby monitor. He tapped a few keys, bringing up a holographic display of the Arc Reactor. "Take a look at this, Obie. This is the future of Stark Industries."
Obadiah's anger faltered as he stared at the glowing hologram. "What is it?"
"It's called an Arc Reactor," Tony explained. "A clean, sustainable energy source that could revolutionize the world. Imagine a future where we're not dependent on fossil fuels or weapons. A future where Stark Industries leads the way in clean energy technology."
Obadiah was silent for a moment, his mind racing. He could see the potential in Tony's invention, but he could also see the threat it posed to his own plans. "This is… impressive, Tony. But it's not enough to replace the revenue we'll lose from the weapons division."
Tony smiled confidently. "Trust me, Obie. This is just the beginning. The losses we're seeing now will be nothing compared to the gains we'll make in the future."
Obadiah forced a smile, but his mind was already working. He needed to get his hands on that Arc Reactor—and fast.
---
Later that night, Obadiah boarded a private jet bound for Afghanistan. He had a plan. If Tony wasn't going to play ball, he would take matters into his own hands. The Ten Rings had been his partners in the ambush that had nearly killed Tony, and he was sure they still had valuable information.
When he arrived at the terrorist base, he was shocked by the devastation. The place was in ruins, littered with the bodies of dead terrorists. Obadiah's men searched the area, eventually finding the remains of Tony's makeshift workshop. Among the debris, they discovered the blueprints for the Iron Man Mark 1 suit.
Obadiah's eyes gleamed as he studied the designs. "This is it," he muttered. "This is how we take control."
He ordered his men to eliminate any remaining Ten Rings members who knew about his involvement in Tony's kidnapping. Then, with the blueprints in hand, he returned to the U.S., determined to build his own version of the suit.
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Back in Malibu, Tony was already hard at work on his next project. The experience in Afghanistan had changed him, and he knew he couldn't go back to being the carefree playboy he once was. The world was a dangerous place, filled with threats he couldn't even begin to comprehend. And if there were people like Paramveer out there—people with powers beyond imagination—he needed to be ready.
Tony pulled up the designs for the Iron Man suit, his mind racing with ideas. The Mark 1 had been a crude prototype, built under desperate conditions. But now, with access to his state-of-the-art workshop, he could create something truly extraordinary.
"Jarvis, let's get to work," Tony said, a determined glint in his eye. "We've got a suit to build."