About two hours later, Stark saw Obadiah in the hospital room. Looking at the familiar old man, Stark got straight to the point. "Can you take the thing out of the pocket of the coat hanging on the rack?"
Obadiah froze for a moment. The complexity in Stark's tone startled him, and confusion mixed with guilt rose within him. Instinctively, he fetched the coat as Stark had asked. When his hand slipped into the pocket, the strange texture of the object made his fingertips pause.
Obadiah pulled it out. It looked like a small piece of fabric, but its texture told him it was human skin. The instant he saw the tattoo on it, his hand began to shake violently.
He had seen the exact same symbol on that Black woman—Tony Stark knew.
Obadiah took a deep breath. He stood stiffly in place for half a minute before slowly exhaling. He put the small piece of skin back into Tony's pocket, then turned to look at his nephew lying in the hospital bed.
"Tell me what this is all about, Obadiah." Tony looked into Obadiah's eyes. "I thought you were my only family."
"I am, Tony." Obadiah's breathing trembled slightly. He released his grip on the coat, draped it over the head of Stark's bed, then sat down beside him. "I thought things would improve once you grew up, but they didn't. They only got worse."
Stark frowned deeply, not quite understanding what Obadiah meant.
"Stark Industries is about to lose its ability to protect you, Tony." Obadiah looked at Stark solemnly. "Or rather, because of you, the military has to sanction Stark Industries. They want you."
Turning his head away, Obadiah said, "Don't naively think they'll let the most intelligent brain in the world sit in a private company