Marvel: Open Up, It’s the FBI

Evening settled over the Malibu coast, bathing Tony Stark's cliffside villa in gold and shadow.

Lynn Hall sat comfortably on the plush living room sofa, swirling a glass of wine. Across from him, Tony Stark was sprawled on the carpet, flushed and tipsy.

"You didn't invite me here just for the booze, did you?" Lynn asked.

"Hic!"

Tony hiccupped mid-reach for his glass. His fingers fumbled, knocking it over. Red wine seeped into the cream-colored carpet.

He sighed, mournfully eyeing the spreading stain. "Damn. That was a twenty-year vintage."

"A billionaire like you crying over spilled wine? Now that's rich."

"This wasn't just any wine," Tony said, propping himself up with a grunt. "It's from a trip I took to Europe a few years ago… ah, never mind."

On the TV, the image shifted—Mayor of New York and James Duke standing proudly before the press, announcing that the FBI had successfully captured the mutant behind the concert attack.

Footage played: Alice's camera recording, showing the takedown and arrest.

Tony glanced at the screen, then back at Lynn. "You were the one who caught the guy. And yet those two are stealing the spotlight. Doesn't that bother you, even a little?"

Lynn sipped his wine, unmoved. "Celebrities want to be recognized. But I'm a federal agent. My ideal day ends with no one knowing I was ever there."

He added with a grin, "But when I become Director of the New York FBI? Then I will be on TV. A lot."

Tony chuckled, wobbling to his feet with a smirk. "Then you'd better hurry up and kick that old guy out."

"Come on," he said, motioning toward the staircase. "I've got something that'll blow your mind."

"'Blow my mind'? What is this, Eyes Wide Shut?" Lynn teased. "Is Nicole Kidman waiting downstairs in a mask?"

Tony snorted. "Nicole? She's classy, sure, but her taste in men is… questionable. Still, if you want her, I can make a call."

"I'll pass. I don't do older women. Makes me feel like I'm being babysat. Anne Hathaway though—that one's cute."

Tony grinned. "Princess Diaries herself? Never met her. But hey, give me a few days—I'll have her in your bed if you want."

Still tossing barbs, the two headed into Stark's basement workshop.

Rows of gleaming supercars lined the walls, including a flame-detailed classic roadster. But at the center of the space stood something far more impressive.

"JARVIS," Tony called, "bring up my latest."

A section of the wall slid open. With a faint hydraulic hiss, a sleek silver suit of armor rose from a hidden platform.

The Mark I.

"How about that?" Tony beamed like a kid unveiling a science fair project. "You're only the second person who's seen it. Not even Pepper knows what I've been building."

Lynn's eyes flicked over the armor—gleaming plates, powerful servos, raw ingenuity made real.

He nodded. "Looks amazing."

But he wasn't gaping. No wide-eyed awe. No dropped jaw.

Tony frowned. "You're not shocked?"

"Why would I be?" Lynn shrugged. "The media calls you the greatest genius of the 21st century. Making something like this seems... expected."

"Expected?" Tony echoed, affronted.

"Though," Lynn added, "it'd be way cooler if it could shrink down into a wristband. Or a necklace. That kind of thing."

Tony gave him a flat look. "It's a suit of armor, not a comic book gadget."

"So you're saying you can't make it compact?"

Tony muttered something about "standards" and "ingrates" under his breath. In his mind, the moment he finished his first nanotech suit, he was going to fly straight to the FBI's New York office, just to knock on Lynn's damn window.

---

Lynn gave a pointed look at Tony. "Alright. You've shown off. Can we talk about why I'm really here?"

Tony hesitated, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay. I need a favor."

He gave Lynn a wary look. "Is it... possible for FBI agents to do private investigations? Y'know, off the books?"

"Technically?" Lynn raised a brow. "Absolutely not."

He stepped closer, voice lowering. "In fact, there was once a senator who tried to use us for a private job. Want to know what happened?"

Tony blinked. "What?"

"We turned him inside out. Financials, offshore accounts, sketchy charities—twenty-seven charges pending. That man won't run for anything but a bus again."

Tony's hopeful expression deflated instantly.

And for good reason. He didn't trust any civilian investigator with what he was about to ask. But if not Lynn…

"I can't trust private eyes," Tony admitted. "They'll sell out the second someone offers them more than I do."

Lynn saw the shift in Tony's eyes—the hesitance, the fear of betrayal.

He smirked. "But since you let me use your private satellite during the Morris manhunt, I suppose I owe you a favor."

Tony blinked. "Wait—seriously? You'd help me?"

"Well... if my boss finds out," Lynn said dramatically, "he might dock half my paycheck."

Tony groaned, then rolled his eyes when he realized Lynn was joking.

With a grin, Tony opened a laptop and pulled up a folder. "This is everything I recorded after returning from the Middle East. Details on the ambush, weapon serial numbers, intercepted communications."

He scrolled through a list of files. "I'm certain someone leaked my location. There's no way those militants just happened to be waiting for me with a full crate of Stark-grade weapons."

"Not just one or two guns," Tony added. "Entire shipments."

Lynn leaned forward, slotting a USB drive into the laptop and copying the files. He didn't even mention a fee.

Tony didn't offer one either.

In his mind, to offer money would be to insult Lynn Hall.

He wasn't just some mercenary. He was someone Tony trusted.

And that trust… was rare.

Lynn pocketed the USB. "I'll have your answers in three days."

He didn't mention Obadiah Stane. Not yet.

But he had noticed that the man had a -7 favorability toward him.

And that usually meant one thing:

Opportunity.

(End of Chapter)