"Sir," JARVIS announced as Tony stared at the nearly-complete Mark III, "the firefighters' gala is currently underway at the Walt Disney Concert Hall."
Tony looked up from the repulsor calibrations he'd been obsessing over. "The gala? That's tonight?"
"Yes, sir. You donated $2.3 million to sponsor the event. You've attended every year for the past seven years."
Tony glanced at his watch. 8:47 PM. The board demonstration was tomorrow morning at 9 AM. He should be sleeping. Or at least pretending to care about sleep. Instead, he'd been in the workshop for sixteen hours straight, perfecting the Mark III's paint job.
Hot rod red over the gold-titanium alloy. Because if he was going to fly, he was going to look good doing it.
"JARVIS, how long until the paint cures?"
"Approximately four hours, sir. However, if you're considering what I think you're considering—"
"I'm considering that I paid for that gala. That it's my money funding firefighter equipment and training. And that I've been stuck in this house for two weeks straight preparing for tomorrow." Tony stood, stretched, felt his spine crack in three places. "I think I've earned a night out."
"Sir, the board presentation is in twelve hours."
"Which gives me plenty of time to make an appearance, drink expensive champagne I paid for, and come back to obsess over repulsor thrust ratios." Tony headed for the stairs. "JARVIS, inform Percy and Calypso we're going out. Tell them to dress fancy."
"Define fancy, sir."
"Gala fancy. Black tie. The kind of event where people pretend they're more important than they are while drinking wine that costs more than most cars."
"I'll relay the message, sir."
Tony climbed the stairs, already planning his entrance. The Mark III would be ready tomorrow. Tonight, he was going to remember what it felt like to be Tony Stark—billionaire, philanthropist, guy who crashed parties he technically paid for.
He found Percy and Calypso in the living room. Percy was cleaning a Glock—Happy had been drilling him on maintenance—while Calypso read a medical journal with the intensity of someone studying for an exam that could kill people if she failed.
Both looked up as Tony entered.
"We're going to a gala," Tony announced.
Percy blinked. "A what?"
"Gala. Fancy party. Firefighters' fundraiser. I pay for it every year, figure I should actually show up." Tony gestured at their casual clothes. "You two need to change. Black tie. Can your magic armor do formal wear?"
"Our armor can do anything," Calypso said carefully. "But Tony, security at a public event—"
"Is exactly why you're coming. You're my security consultants. Emphasis on security." Tony was already heading for his bedroom. "Meet me at the car in twenty minutes. Look fancy. Be intimidating. The usual."
He disappeared before they could argue.
Percy looked at Calypso. "Did we just get voluntold to go to a party?"
"We're employed. That's how employment works." Calypso closed her medical journal. "Can your armor actually do formal wear?"
"I have no idea. Let's find out."
They went to their respective rooms. Percy stood in front of the mirror, touching the armor that currently looked like a simple black t-shirt and jeans. He'd gotten better at controlling the disguise—had practiced making it look like different casual clothes, tactical gear, workout attire.
But formal wear? That was new.
He focused. Thought about the images JARVIS had shown him of black tie events. Tuxedos. Clean lines. Bow ties that he absolutely did not know how to tie but maybe the armor could fake.
The armor rippled. Shifted. Blue-green metal flowing like water, reshaping itself into fabric that wasn't fabric. When Percy looked again, he was wearing a tuxedo. Perfect fit, crisp black jacket, white shirt, black bow tie that was somehow already tied correctly.
"Huh," Percy said. "That's actually impressive."
The gauntlets had transformed into elegant cufflinks. His boots into polished dress shoes. Even the tactical elements were hidden—though Percy could feel them there, ready to activate if needed.
He emerged to find Calypso waiting. And—
*Oh.*
Her armor had transformed into a dress. Gold and white—her colors, always her colors—that somehow managed to look elegant and battle-ready simultaneously. Floor-length, but with a slit that would allow her to move freely. Off-shoulder design that showed the subtle glow of divine metal that could become armor in an instant.
She looked like what she was: ancient power wrapped in modern beauty.
"You clean up nice," Percy managed.
Calypso smiled. "So do you. The armor adapts well to formal contexts. Hephaestus was very thorough."
"Hephaestus was showing off."
"That too."
Tony emerged from his bedroom looking like he'd stepped out of a magazine. Custom tuxedo, perfectly tailored, probably cost more than a car. His arc reactor was visible through his shirt—he'd made no effort to hide it, the blue glow pulsing steadily.
"Okay," Tony said, examining them both. "You two look terrifying and attractive. Perfect combination for security at a fancy party. Let's go crash a gala I technically paid for."
Happy was waiting by the car—except it wasn't a car. It was a limousine. Sleek, black, long enough to comfortably seat six people with room for a minibar.
Happy stood by the door, looking resigned. "Boss, the board presentation is tomorrow."
"I'm aware."
"You should be sleeping."
"Sleep is for people who don't have arc reactors keeping them alive." Tony gestured at the limo. "This seems excessive even for me."
"You're bringing security. Security needs space. And—" Happy's expression suggested he'd lost this argument with someone. "—Ms. Potts called ahead. Said if you were going to crash the gala, you were going to arrive appropriately. Direct quote."
"Pepper's already there?"
"Has been for two hours. She's coordinating with the foundation board." Happy opened the limo door. "Get in. Try not to do anything that makes tomorrow's presentation harder than it already is."
Tony slid into the back. Percy and Calypso followed, settling into the plush leather seats. The interior was pure luxury—ambient lighting, fully stocked bar, privacy partition, screens that could display anything from traffic updates to stock prices.
"This is ridiculous," Percy said, looking around.
"This is how billionaires travel when they want to look important," Tony explained, pouring himself a scotch from the minibar. "You two want anything?"
"Water," Calypso said. "We're technically working."
"Security consultants who drink water at galas. You're making me look bad."
"Someone has to stay sober enough to keep you alive."
"Fair point."
The ride into downtown LA took forty minutes. Tony spent most of it on his phone, responding to emails from Pepper about tomorrow's presentation. Percy and Calypso sat across from him, watching the city lights pass by through the tinted windows.
"This is going to be weird," Percy said quietly.
"Everything we do is weird," Calypso replied. "At least this time we're riding in style."
"Also fair."
They arrived at the Walt Disney Concert Hall to find red carpet chaos. Photographers, reporters, people in expensive clothes trying to look important. A firefighters' charity gala attended by LA's wealthy elite who wanted the tax deduction and the social photo op.
The limo pulled up to the red carpet entrance. Happy got out first, moved to open Tony's door with practiced efficiency.
Tony stepped out and the cameras went berserk.
"Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark! Can you comment on tomorrow's board presentation?"
"Tony! Is it true you're developing new weapons systems?"
"Mr. Stark! What's your response to the military's concerns about contract cancellations?"
Tony ignored all of them. Started walking the red carpet like he owned it—which, technically, he kind of did since his money was funding this event.
Percy and Calypso followed, falling into security formation without thinking about it. Percy on Tony's left, Calypso on his right, both scanning the crowd with the kind of tactical awareness that came from years of expecting monsters to attack.
Halfway up the red carpet, an older gentleman in a tuxedo waved at Tony.
"Hey! Tony Stark!" The man had white hair, glasses, a distinctive mustache. "Wonderful to see you! Love what you're doing with the company!"
Tony paused, squinting. "Hugh Hefner? Didn't expect to see you here."
The man laughed. "Not Hefner. But I get that a lot!" He extended his hand. "Big fan of your work!"
They shook hands. The man moved on, still chuckling. Percy caught a glimpse of the name tag: *Stanley Lieber - Special Guest*.
"Who was that?" Percy asked.
"I have no idea," Tony admitted. "But he seemed nice. Probably someone important I should know."
They entered the concert hall. The interior was stunning—Frank Gehry architecture, curves and angles that defied conventional geometry, acoustic design that made every sound perfect. The gala was in full swing. Orchestra playing. People mingling. Waiters circulating with champagne and hors d'oeuvres that probably cost more per bite than Percy used to spend on entire meals.
"This is—" Percy struggled for words. "This is fancy."
"This is excessive," Calypso corrected, looking around with the slightly bewildered expression of someone who'd spent three thousand years on an island and was now confronting modern wealth inequality. "Do these people know how much food costs?"
"They do not," Tony confirmed. "That's kind of the point of being rich. You stop thinking about what things cost."
He headed for the bar. Percy and Calypso followed, maintaining their security positions while trying not to look too obviously like security. The goal was to blend in—wealthy young couple attending as Tony's guests, not bodyguards scanning for threats.
Tony ordered a scotch. The bartender recognized him immediately, poured a very expensive single malt that Tony definitely had not ordered by name.
"Mr. Stark," the bartender said. "It's an honor. Thank you for your generous support of the department."
"Just doing my part," Tony said, accepting the drink. "Firefighters are heroes. Least I can do is—"
He stopped mid-sentence. Percy followed his gaze and saw what had caught his attention.
Pepper Potts was standing near the far side of the room, talking to someone Percy didn't recognize. She was wearing a dress—midnight blue, elegant, the kind of dress that made everyone in the vicinity stop and stare.
Including Tony, who was staring like he'd forgotten how to breathe.
"Is that Pepper?" Tony said faintly.
"That appears to be Ms. Potts, yes," JARVIS confirmed through Tony's earpiece. "Wearing the dress you purchased for her birthday last year."
"I bought her that dress?"
"Technically, Ms. Potts purchased it using your credit card after you instructed her to 'buy herself something nice' and gave her a budget of fifty thousand dollars."
"Best fifty thousand I ever spent," Tony muttered. He was still staring.
Percy exchanged a look with Calypso. "Should we—"
"Give him a minute," Calypso said. "I've seen this before. Male hero sees female companion in formal attire, experiences complete cognitive breakdown. It's universal across all eras."
"I'm not having a cognitive breakdown," Tony said, not looking away from Pepper. "I'm just—appreciating excellent fashion choices."
"Sure you are."
Tony set down his drink. Started walking toward Pepper with the kind of determined focus usually reserved for engineering problems. Percy and Calypso followed, maintaining their security positions while trying not to smile.
Pepper saw them approaching. Her expression shifted—surprise, then concern, then exasperation.
"Tony," she said as he reached her. "What are you doing here? The board presentation is tomorrow morning. You should be sleeping. Or at least pretending to prepare."
"I am prepared. The Mark III is ready. I have my notes. I have twelve hours." Tony gestured at the party. "I also paid for this gala. Figured I should show up."
"You paid for this gala three years ago. This year's funding was arranged by the foundation."
"Still counts." Tony's eyes kept drifting to her dress. "Is that—"
"The birthday gift? Technically yes. You gave me your credit card and told me to buy something nice. So I did." Pepper smoothed the fabric self-consciously. "I thought it was appropriate for the event."
"It's very appropriate. Extremely appropriate. Possibly the most appropriate thing I've ever seen."
Pepper's expression softened slightly. "Are you trying to give me a compliment, Tony?"
"I'm trying to remember how words work." Tony held out his hand. "Dance with me."
"Tony—"
"Pepper. I paid for this party. I'm wearing a tuxedo. You're wearing that dress. The orchestra is playing something that's probably very expensive and musical. Dance with me."
Pepper looked at his extended hand. Then at his face. Then sighed in the way that meant she was going to say yes while pretending she didn't want to.
"One dance. Then you're going home to sleep before you embarrass yourself in front of the board."
"Deal."
Tony led her to the dance floor. The orchestra was playing something classical—Percy didn't recognize it, but it sounded elegant and romantic. Other couples were already dancing, moving in synchronized patterns that suggested either lots of practice or lots of money for dance lessons.
Tony and Pepper joined them. Tony's hand on her waist, her hand in his, moving together with the kind of practiced ease that came from years of working in close proximity.
Percy watched them for a moment, then looked at Calypso.
"Want to dance?" he asked.
"I don't know modern dances."
"Neither do I. We'll figure it out."
They moved to the dance floor. Percy had danced exactly once in his life—at a school dance in eighth grade that had ended with monsters attacking. But his body remembered movement, remembered rhythm, remembered the way Calypso felt in his arms.
The armor helped too. Somehow. Adjusting his balance, smoothing his movements, making him look more graceful than he actually was.
"This is nice," Calypso said softly. Her head was resting against his shoulder. "Peaceful. Normal."
"We're demigods from a dead universe attending a gala with a billionaire genius. Nothing about this is normal."
"Relatively normal then." Calypso smiled. "No monsters. No titans. No world ending. Just dancing."
"Just dancing," Percy agreed.
They moved together, letting the music guide them. Around them, other couples danced. Tony and Pepper were having some kind of intense conversation—Percy caught snippets.
"—can't keep doing this—"
"—doing what, exactly?"
"—the reckless thing. The brilliant but self-destructive thing—"
"—I'm being careful—"
"—you fell from eighty-five thousand feet!"
"—but I survived—"
Their voices were low but heated. Not angry—something else. The kind of tension that came from things unsaid. From feelings that couldn't be expressed because of professional boundaries or fear or both.
Percy knew that feeling. Had felt it himself before he and Calypso had finally figured out what they meant to each other.
"They're going to figure it out eventually," Calypso murmured.
"Figure out what?"
"That they're in love with each other. Everyone can see it except them."
"Maybe they know. They're just scared."
"Probably." Calypso pulled back slightly to look at him. "You weren't scared. When you came back to Ogygia."
"I was terrified. I just wanted you more than I was scared." Percy touched her face gently. "Best decision I ever made."
"Even though it ended your world?"
"You didn't end my world. Galactus did. And I'd make the same choice again. Every time."
They kissed. Soft and gentle, the kind of kiss that said *I love you* without words. Around them, the gala continued. Music and light and people who had no idea what Percy and Calypso had survived.
Nearby, Tony and Pepper had stopped dancing. Were standing very close together, the tension between them almost visible.
"I'm your employee," Pepper said quietly.
"I know."
"There are rules. Professional boundaries. Things we can't—"
"I know that too."
"Then what are we doing, Tony? Dancing at a gala, looking at each other like—" She stopped. "I can't be the person who breaks. Who crosses the line. Because if I do, everything changes. My job, my life, everything I've built."
Tony was quiet for a long moment. Then: "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—" He stepped back. "I need a drink. You want a drink? I'll get you a drink."
"Tony—"
"Martini. Lots of olives. I remember." He was already moving toward the bar, not quite fleeing but close.
Pepper stood alone on the dance floor for a moment, looking like she wanted to either cry or throw something. Then she took a breath, smoothed her dress, and walked in the opposite direction.
Percy and Calypso exchanged a look.
"That went badly," Percy observed.
"They'll figure it out. Eventually. When they're ready." Calypso took his hand. "Come on. Let's—"
"Ms. Potts."
The voice came from behind them. Pleasant. Professional. Familiar.
Percy turned to see Agent Phil Coulson standing a respectful distance away. He was in a tuxedo—well-fitted, understated, the kind that said "I belong here but I'm not showing off." His expression was polite but his eyes were sharp. Observant.
Pepper had stopped, turned to face him. Her professional mask slipped back into place immediately.
"Agent Coulson," she said. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division has a table. We support first responders." Coulson smiled slightly. "Also, I've been trying to reach Mr. Stark. About that debriefing we discussed."
"Tony's been very busy—"
"I'm sure he has. Building arc reactor technology. Shutting down weapons manufacturing. Testing experimental flight systems." Coulson's tone remained pleasant but there was something underneath. Knowledge. Awareness. "I noticed a rather impressive energy signature emanating from the Malibu facility last week. Our satellites detected it. Along with what appeared to be a high-altitude flight that wasn't on any FAA registry."
Percy's hand moved toward his pocket—toward Riptide—before he caught himself. Coulson noticed. Of course he noticed. His eyes flicked to Percy, then to Calypso, cataloging the movement.
"We really do need that debriefing," Coulson continued, looking back at Pepper. "Mr. Stark. Mr. Jackson. Ms. Atlas. All three of you experienced three months with a terrorist organization. That information would be valuable to our investigation."
"I'll pass along your request," Pepper said carefully. "After tomorrow's board presentation. Tony's schedule is—"
"Packed. I understand." Coulson pulled out a business card—new one, Percy noticed. The agency name was different. Shorter. "This is my direct line. Please have Mr. Stark call me. At his earliest convenience. Which I hope is sometime this week."
He handed the card to Pepper. She glanced at it.
"You changed the name," Pepper observed.
"Branding is important. As you mentioned last time." Coulson's expression didn't change. "We took your advice. Made it more... memorable. Easier to reference."
"SHIELD," Pepper read from the card. "Still feels like a mouthful."
"We're workshopping acronyms. It's a process." Coulson nodded politely. "Enjoy your evening, Ms. Potts. Mr. Jackson. Ms. Atlas. Please remind Mr. Stark that we're here to help. Whatever he's building, whatever he's planning—we're not adversaries. We're just interested parties who'd like to ensure everyone's safety."
"I'll pass that along," Pepper said.
Coulson walked away. Disappeared into the crowd with the practiced ease of someone who knew how to be invisible when needed.
Percy watched him go. "He knows something."
"He knows a lot of things," Calypso corrected. "And he's patient. Waiting for us to make a mistake."
"We haven't made any mistakes."
"Yet." Pepper was studying the business card with an expression that suggested she was calculating approximately seventeen different threat scenarios. "He's tracking Tony's work. Monitoring the house. They know about the Mark III test flight."
"How much do they know?" Percy asked.
"Not enough to act. But enough to be concerned." Pepper tucked the card into her clutch. "I need to tell Tony. Where did he go?"
They scanned the room. Tony was at the bar, ordering drinks. Pepper's martini and what looked like a double scotch for himself. His expression was carefully neutral but Percy could see the tension in his shoulders.
Then someone moved next to him at the bar. A woman. Red hair, green dress, the kind of confident smile that suggested she knew exactly how attractive she was and used it strategically.
Tony's expression changed. Shifted from tense to wary.
"Ms. Everhart," Tony said. Not friendly. Not hostile. Carefully neutral. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Tony." Her voice was warm but her eyes were calculating. "It's been a while. You've been busy. New arc reactor technology. Shutting down weapons manufacturing. Quite the dramatic pivot."
"Dramatic is kind of my brand."
"So I've noticed." Christine Everhart—Percy recognized the name now, investigative journalist, had done several exposés on weapons manufacturers—moved closer. "Can we talk? Privately? There's something you should know."
"If this is about the board presentation tomorrow—"
"It's not." Her expression turned serious. "Tony, I know we have history. But I'm coming to you as a journalist who just uncovered something you need to see."
Tony studied her for a moment. Then nodded. "Okay. Fine. But not here. Outside. And my security comes with me."
Christine glanced past Tony, saw Percy and Calypso approaching with Pepper. "The mysterious security consultants everyone's talking about. Fine. They can hear this too."
They moved to a quieter area—a terrace overlooking downtown LA. The night was clear, the city lights stretching to the horizon. Christine pulled out her phone, pulled up photos.
"I was in Afghanistan," she said. "Following up on reports of weapons shipments to terrorist organizations. And I found these."
She showed Tony the screen. Photos. Stark Industries weapons. Jericho missiles—the same ones Tony had demonstrated in the desert before his capture. Crates with the Stark Industries logo. All of it in what looked like a desert village.
"Where was this taken?" Tony's voice was tight.
"Gulmira. Small village in Afghanistan." Christine swiped to the next photo. "The Ten Rings are using Stark Industries weapons to attack civilians. Stark Industries weapons that were delivered—" She emphasized the word. "—*delivered* within the last two weeks."
Tony went very still. "That's not possible. We stopped all weapons shipments. I shut down the division."
"You announced the shutdown. But these weapons were delivered after that announcement. Someone in your company is still selling to the Ten Rings."
Percy felt his gut clench. Gulmira. Yinsen's village. The place Yinsen had talked about in the cave. His family. His home.
Tony's face had gone pale. "Gulmira. That's—"
"Yinsen's village," Christine finished. "I did my research, Tony. The man who saved your life? Who died getting you out of that cave? He was from Gulmira. And now the Ten Rings are using your weapons to destroy his home."
"Someone's selling weapons behind my back." Tony's voice was cold now. Angry. "Someone in my company. Someone with access to inventory, shipping manifests, military contacts—"
He stopped. Turned to Percy and Calypso. "We're leaving. Now."
"Tony, what—" Christine started.
"Thank you for the information. Seriously. But I need to go."
Tony was already moving. Not back into the gala—toward the exit. Toward the front of the building where Happy would be waiting with the limo. Percy and Calypso followed, their security instincts on high alert. Pepper grabbed her clutch and followed as well.
They emerged onto the red carpet area just as Obadiah Stane was arriving. Getting out of a town car, adjusting his tuxedo, preparing to make his entrance.
Tony walked straight toward him.
"Obie," Tony said. His voice was calm but Percy could hear the fury underneath. "We need to talk."
Obadiah turned, saw Tony, and his expression shifted through several emotions very quickly. Surprise. Concern. Calculation.
"Tony! Didn't expect to see you here. Thought you'd be preparing for tomorrow's presentation."
"I was. Then I got some interesting information." Tony pulled out his phone, showed Obadiah the photos Christine had provided. "Stark Industries weapons. Delivered to the Ten Rings. After I shut down the weapons division. Want to explain that?"
Obadiah's expression went carefully neutral. "Tony, I don't know what you're talking about—"
"Don't." Tony's voice was hard. "Don't lie to me. Someone in the company is still selling weapons. Someone with access and authority. Someone who has reason to want the weapons division to continue."
"You think I'm selling weapons to terrorists?" Obadiah's voice rose. "Tony, I've been trying to save this company while you've been having your moral crisis—"
"My moral crisis?" Tony stepped closer. "I'm trying to stop being a merchant of death. You're apparently trying to keep the death business running."
"I'm trying to keep the company alive!" Obadiah's careful control was slipping. "You shut down our primary revenue stream. Killed billions in military contracts. Threw the board into chaos. Someone had to maintain our relationships, our commitments—"
"By selling weapons to the terrorists who kidnapped me?"
"By honoring existing contracts!" Obadiah took a breath, forced calm. "Tony, the weapons that ended up with the Ten Rings—those were diverted shipments. Stolen inventory. I'm investigating it, I promise. But it's not what you think—"
"What I think," Tony interrupted, "is that you've been selling weapons behind my back. What I think is that you've been working with the board to remove me as CEO. What I think is that you want me gone so you can run Stark Industries the way you've wanted to for years."
Silence. The red carpet area had gone quiet. Photographers had their cameras up but weren't shooting—this was clearly not photo op material. Security guards were watching, unsure whether to intervene.
Obadiah's expression hardened. "You're right. I do want you gone. Because you're destroying everything I've spent thirty years building. Everything your father entrusted to me."
"My father wanted clean energy—"
"Your father built weapons! Built bombs and missiles and the arsenal that kept America safe! And he trusted me to continue that legacy after he died!" Obadiah was fully angry now. "I protected this company. Protected you. Cleaned up your messes. And this is how you repay me? By throwing it all away for some idealistic crusade?"
"I'm not throwing it away. I'm changing it."
"You're destroying it. And tomorrow—" Obadiah smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Tomorrow the board votes. And they're going to choose me. Choose someone who actually cares about the company's future."
"The board voted to give me thirty days."
"That was before I showed them the quarterly projections. Before I demonstrated what your shutdown is costing us." Obadiah straightened his tie. "The votes are already counted, Tony. You just don't know it yet. Tomorrow you present your arc reactor fantasy, the board rejects it, and I take over. It's already done."
Tony stared at him. At the man who'd been like a father after Howard died. Who'd run the company while Tony played. Who'd just admitted to plotting Tony's removal.
"We'll see about that," Tony said quietly.
He turned. Walked away. Percy and Calypso followed immediately, flanking him as they moved toward Happy and the limo. Pepper followed close behind, her heels clicking rapidly on the pavement.
Behind them, Obadiah stood on the red carpet, watching them go. His expression was unreadable.
Happy had the limo ready, engine running. They piled in—Tony first, then Pepper, then Percy and Calypso. The door closed with a solid *thunk*.
"Home," Tony said. "Fast."
Happy didn't ask questions. Just put the limo in gear and pulled away from the concert hall.
Inside, the silence was heavy. Tony sat with his hands clasped, staring at nothing. Pepper watched him with concern. Percy and Calypso exchanged glances.
"Boss," Happy called from the driver's seat. "What happened?"
"Obadiah's been selling weapons," Tony said. His voice was flat. Controlled. "To the Ten Rings. To terrorists who are attacking Gulmira." His hands tightened. "Yinsen's village. They're using my weapons to destroy Yinsen's home."
Happy's expression went dark in the rearview mirror. "What do you need?"
"I need to get to the workshop. I need the Mark III ready. And I need—" Tony stopped. Took a breath. "I need to stop them. The Ten Rings. The weapons shipments. All of it. I need to do what Yinsen died believing I could do."
He looked at Percy and Calypso.
"Tomorrow I deal with the board. Tonight—" His jaw set. "Tonight I finish the Mark III. And then I'm going to Gulmira."
"Tony, that's—" Percy started.
"Exactly what I should be doing. What I was always supposed to be doing." Tony's hand went to the arc reactor in his chest. "Yinsen died so I could be better. So I could make this mean something. Well, this is something. This is stopping the people who are using my weapons to destroy innocent lives."
"Tony, you can't just fly into Afghanistan," Pepper said. Her voice was strained. "It's a war zone. You don't have military authorization. You don't have support. You don't have—"
"I have the Mark III. That's all I need."
"No, it's not!" Pepper's composure was cracking. "You need backup. You need intelligence. You need a plan that isn't just 'fly to a war zone and hope for the best.'"
"I'll figure it out."
"That's not good enough!"
"It's going to have to be." Tony's voice was firm. Final. "Pepper, I appreciate the concern. But this is something I have to do. Something only I can do."
Calypso leaned forward. "If you're going to Gulmira, at least let us help with reconnaissance. Intelligence gathering. We can't fly with you, but we can give you information that might keep you alive."
Tony considered this. "JARVIS can pull satellite data—"
"JARVIS can pull official data. We can pull different kinds of information." Calypso's expression was serious. "Trust us. We know how to gather intelligence in hostile territory."
Percy nodded. "We've done it before. Different circumstances, but the principles are the same."
Tony looked between them. Then at Pepper, who was watching him with an expression that mixed frustration and fear.
"Fine," Tony said. "Intel support. But I'm going alone. You two stay here, protect Pepper, and make sure Obadiah doesn't try anything stupid while I'm gone."
"Tony—" Pepper started.
"This is not negotiable." Tony's voice gentled slightly. "Pepper, I need you here. I need you to handle the board if things go wrong tomorrow. I need you to make sure the company survives whether I do or not."
"Don't talk like that."
"I'm being realistic. Gulmira is dangerous. The Mark III is untested in combat. There's a non-zero chance I don't come back." Tony met her eyes. "But I have to go anyway. Because if I don't, then everything Yinsen died for means nothing."
The limo pulled up to the Malibu house. They sat in silence for a moment. Then Tony opened the door.
"JARVIS," he said as he stepped out. "Prep the Mark III. Full combat loadout. I want weapons systems online and flight plans to Afghanistan ready in two hours."
"Sir, may I point out that flying to a war zone is extremely inadvisable—"
"You may point it out. I'm doing it anyway."
Tony headed for the house. Percy and Calypso followed. Pepper stayed in the limo for a moment, holding Agent Coulson's business card, her expression troubled.
Then she got out and followed them inside.
In the workshop, Tony was already suiting up. The Mark III components coming together, piece by piece. Gold and red armor locking into place with mechanical precision.
Percy and Calypso stood at the top of the workshop stairs, watching Tony become Iron Man. Watching the helmet lock into place. Watching the repulsors power up.
And they prayed to gods that no longer existed that Tony Stark would survive what came next.
Because if he didn't, they'd just lost another friend to a war that never seemed to end.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord (HHHwRsB6wd) server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Can't wait to see you there!