AN: For all those who are complaining, either through reviews or PM's, about Happy and Pepper, let me remind you that I said I was adding some elements from the comics. The Happy/Pepper relationship was well established in the comics. Let me also assure you that I am adding and adapting various, albeit minor parts of the movie to make it fit together better, but I will be following the movie through to the end. be patient. We'll get there.

Once a year, the streets of Monte Carlo were transformed into a Formula One racetrack. Once a year the eyes of car enthusiasts, punters, racers, driver and spectators flooded the streets of Monaco for the show. The narrow streets and tight corners made for a gripping; sometimes deadly show of pure driving prowess; the most powerful engines fatal on the hairpin turns.

The narrow roads made overtaking difficult. Nelson Piquet, former Formula One World Champion, likened the event to running a bicycle through your living room.

The Grand Prix was one of the most difficult in the world, and so the stakes were incredibly high. Where money went, society types followed and the Monaco weekend had become a high society bash as well as one of the most anticipated events on the racing calendar.

Add to the fact that Stark Industries was entering it's own race-car, hand built and tuned by Tony Stark himself, and all eyes were on the Man himself as he and his troupe entered the pre-race parties.

"Whatever happens in the next two minutes; just go with it." Tony told Pepper as they entered.

Pepper tensed. The last time he had said that; she had to babysit a Russian model's stepson while Tony made plans with a French stewardess; neither of whom spoke English.

But this time was worse, as Pepper met Tony's new Personal Assistant.

"Mr Stark, how was your flight?" Rushman asked.

"It was great." Stark enthused.

Natalie Rushman was apparently taking to her new job well, having everything that required his attention lined up. "Your pilot sends his thanks for the room you had booked; your own suite is prepared as per your requests, as are the rooms you had picked for Happy and Pepper; paperwork has already been seen to and signed-"

"By who?" Tony asked in surprise.

"By you; in a manner of speaking." Rushman returned.

Tony grinned at a glaring Pepper. "Why didn't you ever learn to fake my signature?"

"-And we have a photographer from AP here." Rushman finished.

The photographer moved in on cue to snap a hot of Strak with his new CEO. Tony grinned, pleased and Pepper plastered a similar smile on her face; not for the first time. Tony leaned in. "Don't flare your nostrils like that when you pretend to smile."

"You are unbelievable." Pepper snarled through her perfect smile. "What was that about rooms you picked for me and Happy?"

Tony kept smiling for the cameras. "I got you guys three rooms, one each with a hot tub room in between. Why? Is that a problem?"

Pepper gritted her teeth under her smile. "Un. Be. Lieveable."

The camera flashed while they argued and Natalie quickly clamped a hand on his shoulder and hustled him away; moving Stark forward. "Your suite is already booked and checked; refreshments and linens arranged per your requests, your bags are waiting there; and Your table is ready sir."

"Thank you Natalie; and You look great." Tony said, unabashedly staring at her.

Rushman took the open leering in perfect stride, almost posing for him as she led the way. "Why thank you."

"But that's thoroughly unprofessional." Tony continued without pause. "Is this us?" Tony asked.

"It can be." Rushman said without hesitation.

Tony smirked. He liked this girl. "Make it us."

Rushman took the reserved sign off the table without hesitation and tore it in two.

Pepper studied Natalie out of the corner of her eye. The woman had taken to the job like a duck to water. Pepper had floundered when she first started, because she didn't understand the kind of clout that the Stark name brought in places like restaurants and hotels. If Tony had asked her whose table it was, she would have directed him to his actual table.

Whoever Natalie Rushman was, she had taken to 'power' far too quickly. Whoever she was, she had tasted authority before.

But why then, was she so laid-back with Tony? Anyone who had that kind of natural authority would never tolerate Tony's open advances and/or flirting. Getting called 'girlie' and being hit on mid-sentence was part of the life when working with Tony Stark, but Rushman was not only unfazed, she wasn't even bothered by it.

Pepper shook it off. Her job had expanded exponentially since Obidiah had died, and now that she had the title officially, she had to figure out how to ignore things that weren't her problem. Or her business any more. The care and feeding of Tony Stark was no longer her job description. The personal life of Tony Stark was not her concern.

Expect that it was. Except that it wasn't.

Except that she was still very concerned about Tony's private life.

Pepper fought that thought down. Her job kept her too busy. She had already canceled on happy twice this week; and she sometimes wondered if that's what Tony had in mind. It was Rushman's job to corral the brat billionaire and it was Rushman's job to fend off the sharks.

Tony took in this little inner war as it played out on her face and put on his most calming expression. "You look tense Pepper. Would you like a massage. I bet Natalie knows how to give massages. If not, I have two or three Swedish-"

" Anthony?" A smarmy voice called from behind them at the bar.

Tony winced. "My least favorite person on earth!" He called back cheerfully.

Hammer, tool that he was, chuckled like it was a pet nickname Tony had. "Great to see you. You aren't the only rich guy with a car in the race today. Oh, have you met..."

The blonde turned around and Pepper fought to keep a real smile in check this time. Hammer was apparently still going with his campaign to make himself a Tony Stark Clone. "Christine Everheart."

Tony froze his face and tried not to look Everheart in the eye. He remembered her this time. Of course he did. She was the one that outed him as a superhero. Not that he needed much convincing of course.

"She's doing a big spread on me for Vanity Fair." Hammer said, needling Tony.

"Well, she did quite a spread on Tony last year." Pepper said blandly. There was barely the slightest trace of sarcasm or smugness in her voice; but Tony could hear it; clear as a bell.

Tony could not resist making a little plainer for Hammer's benefit. "And she wrote a story too." He added. "I was very impressed."

A series of uncomfortable or sarcastic looks passed between Everheart, Potts and Stark; while Hammer took several seconds to catch up.

The rumors had flown about Everheart and Tony, but they had died quickly. There was little interest in Stark's latest notch on the bedpost. The fact that she had gone after him at the infamous I Am Iron Man Press Conference had revived them for a few days, but there was far bigger story to talk about then.

Hammer broke the odd stalemate. "FYI," He said to Everheart. "Big story of the week; meet the new CEO of Stark Industries."

Everheart seemed genuinely pleased. "I heard, Congratulations."

Pepper was a little taken aback at Everheart's graciousness. "Thank you."

"My editor will kill me if I don't get a comment for our 'Women in Power' section."

"Oh." Pepper said, smile still in place. "Sure, of course. But right now, I have calls to make and things..."

"Don't leave me alone with them." Tony said instantly.

"So if you'll excuse me..." Pepper bowed out graciously and vanished into the crowd.

Hammer signaled a few photographers and put an arm around Tony, who tried several times to extricate himself from Hammer. He caught a whiff of Hammer's aftershave and his stomach started rolling.

"So, while I've got you here Tony," Everheart said as they half-posed for the cameras. Her familiar recorder was out and running. "This is the first time you two have met since the Senate..."

"Since he got his contract revoked, yes; that is gawdawful aftershave..." Tony jumped in. "Yeah, how about that?"

Hammer's smile dropped. How the hell did Stark know about that already? "It's not revoked, it's on hold."

"Oh, on hold." Stark nodded, making his way toward the stairs out of the dining hall. "What's the difference between on hold and cancelled?"

Everheart swung the recorder back to Hammer, smelling blood. "Yes, what is the difference?"

Hammer fought to regain the conversation, trying to steer the three of them towards a table. "Actually, I'm looking in new directions now. I was hoping to present something at your Expo."

Tony nodded and moved past the open seat Hammer gestured him to, fighting to keep the nausea from his face. "Well, if it works, I will personally make sure you get a slot. There's your story Christine, Hammer needs a slot."

Hammer chuckled like that was some great funny joke and Tony was gone up the stairs.

Tony had all but sprinted away from Everheart and Hammer, and made it to his suite just in time to throw up again.

Hands shaking, he wiped his face and stood up, only to have his legs give out. He sat on the tile for a little while, letting his head clear. He had experienced too many hangovers to let this bow him. Ordinarily he would get up from this; and go straight back out the start partying again. Scrubbing his face clear, Tony finally stood up an fought down some water. He kept sipping till his hands stopped shaking.

He pulled out the little box and jabbed himself again. Fire raced up his arm from the pinprick. Tony winced and gave the drop of his blood a betrayed look.

Blood Toxicity: 64%

Tony shook off the numb feeling in his gut. It didn't matter. He shouldn't be alive. He should have died forty ways by now. He had made peace with it. He wasn't scared.

Oh really? A traitorous little voice in his head responded. Then why are you fighting it? Why are you slugging down the chlorophyll by the pint? Why is Pepper now carrying a surgical mask in her briefcase? Why do you have the hand wipes to keep you healthy? Why are you so obsessed with making the Expo work, a legacy that the US Government won't claim after you're dead. You can tell yourself that you're finished, but you aren't done yet. You can act like your not scared, but you are.

Tony smacked that thought down. The Expo was running. He didn't need to worry about that. The Chlorophyll was to counter the symptoms. He wasn't going to rot away. Killed by a handshake? A common head cold murders Tony Iron Man Stark? No way in hell was that going to happen. He wasn't going to die in agony. He wasn't going to be drugged out of his skin in a hospice somewhere. No chance. No way.

Stupid idea Tony. Go now, tell Pepper the truth; then you get help for the hole slowly rotting its way through your chest. You do not act like a teenager and get yourself killed because you don't want to fight any more. That's what you do. That's how you save your life, and how you get Pepper back.

But on the other hand... nah.

He looked at himself in the mirror. "Any more bright ideas?"

Iron Man deserved a Viking Funeral. Spectacular and explosive, just like his life.

After all, without the chance of a massive explosion, you're just watching a bunch of race-cars chasing each other in a circle.

Iron Man deserved a Viking Funeral.

Everheart wasn't sorry she had taken the job exactly, it was just that there was nothing new here. Stark had fed her a hot tip that Hammer was out with the US Military, but Hammer was quickly blocking all her questions on that one.

"Tony and I are pals. We aren't rivals really." Hammer assured her and her notebook. "I love the man and he loves me. Him being out of the weapons trade just makes more-"

Inwardly, Everheart knew what he was doing. Stark had been the primary supplier of weapons in America. Though she had herself ambushed him, accused him of being a War Profiteer, she could recognize the fact that he was in so much demand because he was good at it. He was more than good, he was gifted.

Hammer was trying to make himself Tony Stark's clone. Just as good, only cheaper and still in the weapons game to begin with.

Those that knew Tony Stark were aware that there was more to it than simply being a great weapons designer. Stark was a celebrity. Stark was larger than life. When he entered a room, every eye went to him. Hammer was desperate to match that. Somehow he'd got it into his had that to be as good as Tony Stark, you had to be Tony Stark.

And he was one of a kind.

"-there are tremendous opportunities at Hammer Industries now with-" Hammer suddenly noticed that she was looking past him, and turned around.

On one of the myriad of television screens, Tony was wearing a blue racing suit, with the Stark logo on it, and was waving to the cameras in the Pit Lanes. His driver looked madder than all hell, but got out of the car anyway as Tony turned to face the Press. "What's the point of owning an expensive race-car if you're not gonna drive it yourself?"

"Is... Is he driving? In the Grand Prix?" Hammer asked in disbelief.

"I have to make a call." Everheart said as Stark's name replaced his driver's on the lineup.

"Waitwaitwait! Can you just read me what you've written th-"

"Be right back!" Everheart called over her shoulder.

Swearing under his breath, Hammer downed the rest of his drink. Across the room he saw Pepper at a bit of a loss at the situation. "Natalie!" She hollered.

Hammer, watching from across the room, had a clear view of the room, and still had no idea where Rushman had materialized from, suddenly appearing at Pepper's side. "Ma'am?"

"What is he doing?"

"I don't know, he didn't say anything about-"

"We have to do something."

"How can I help?"

Pepper thought for a moment. "Go get Happy. I need Happy."

Rushman vanished into the room within seconds. Pepper was glued to the screens, as was everyone else. Hammer moved smoothly into place next to Pepper. "You didn't know?"

Pepper glanced over and dismissed him instantly.

Hammer nodded, ever so sympathetic. "It's not the first time he's acted this way Potts. Sooner or later everyone's going to get as sick of it as you are."

"Get lost Hammer."

"Pepper, everyone on Wall Street knows you're the responsible one, but he's the brains of the operation. You're not a CEO, you're a PA. A damned good one, but you can't handle a wild horse like Tony. You try, you'll get tossed. Stark acting like this doesn't demonstrate a lot of good judgment. If he's stupid enough to do this for kicks, what will they think of him putting you in charge? Cloak and Dagger is the rule at this level. You're not Stane. Everyone on Wall Street knows this, and they're already drawing up plans to devour you whole. And when they do, you'll take down Stark Industries with you."

His speech had made the desired point. Pepper was looking borderline terrified.

Hammer pushed his glasses up his nose. "I always liked you Pepper. I hope Stark lives through this. If he kills himself on the track, there'll be nobody to save you when the wolves come to tear you apart."

Pepper bunched her fists, and Hammer withdrew to the bar before he could get his face punched in. He moved to the bar and ordered a glass of the finest champagne that Monte Carlo had to offer. Stark was going to smear himself all over a barricade; and Hammer was going to get to see the whole thing, not to mention instant replay.

Time For The Show.

Vanko swore fluently when Stark had left the party. Making a strike, surrounded by all those high society types? A room full of reporters would give him the audience he needed. The small room would make his entrance all the more intimidating.

And then Stark had left the party. Vanko had found him heading downstairs. The opportunity was too good to miss, and he followed, until he saw what Stark was wearing.

A racing suit. bright blue, with the Stark logo all over it.

Vanko was surprised. Surely he would have noticed Stark's name on the Lineup.

He made himself invisible among the Pit Crew. The support teams of these race-cars were big enough, and had all traveled internationally to be here. One more face, even with a mouthful of gold plated teeth and covered in prison tattoos, did not draw much attention.

Watching Stark push his driver out of the car, and hearing some of the elegant French and Japanese curses that driver had thrown in his face was fun, and Vanko knew that he had a much more visible moment than the party.

He picked a large Pit Crew member, tapped him on the shoulder and wordlessly gestured the large man to follow him. They moved off the track, away from other people, and Vanko calmly turned around a put a fist into the man's throat. A move he had learned in Siberia. The huge man dropped. His throat spasmed from the blow, and he could not get air enough to call for help.

Vanko leaned down as he writhed, clutching at his throat. "I am sorry for this. We have never met. I bear no grudge. But I need what you have." He put a hand on his victim's shoulder gently. "You are not the first man I have seen killed, for naught but the clothes on his back."

The explanation was mostly for his own conscience. He doubted this man spoke Russian. He brought his other hand up and calmly broke the man's neck. Quick and painless. A moment passed while Vanko respectfully let the body stop spasming. He took no pleasure in this killing. He had to kill before; to save his own life, or to keep other prisoners away. If he had gone looking for a locker he may have been discovered, and it was unlikely that he would be able to come across a jumpsuit that fit him at random. He had found someone his size, and he took advantage of it..

Vanko started removing the man's orange jumpsuit.

Stark pulled the wind visor down over his eyes. The lights flashed red, then green, and Stark floored it. The racetrack was very narrow, with many hairpin turns. As such, pole position at the start of the race was vitally important. Stark wasn't at the head of the pack, but was by no means at the back.

Stark was now in third place, most of the pack behind him; the road narrow enough that he didn't have to worry about anyone getting up close.

A part of him knew that he was feeding too much speed into the turns, locking the steering wheel too far. He was being reckless. He was moving at velocities that did not forgive recklessness.

What's the alternative? Tony asked himself. A handshake gives me a virus? Or a tight turn gives me a massive explosion.

He had moved a lot faster than this. He had done things a lot more dangerous. But he was wearing unbreakable armor then. For all the safety features built into these machines, metal got real pliable once you put it up to speed, and against a concrete wall.

Pepper was glued to the screens, feeling her palms burn as she dug her own fingernails in with each hair-raising turn.

Pepper sucked in a breath and looked away as he cut one corner too close...

...And Happy was standing in the doorway. The huge silver briefcase, which Tony had dubbed 'The Football' was handcuffed to his wrist; and he had that look on pure readiness on his face. Pepper felt better for it. She just didn't know what to do. The last time she didn't know what to do; the Boss was in Afghanistan, and Happy had taken care of her then too. "What do we do?" She demanded.

Happy took in the screens. "He knows the car better than anyone. He built it. He knows the racetrack as well as anyone who follows the race. What he doesn't have is a support team. His pit crew all speak Japanese. He had them picked specifically for this race, and his driver." He bit his lip. "If we can get to the Stark Pit Crew, we can reach him over the radio, we can tell him everything. Every turn, every other competitor..."

"Okay, let's do that then."

Happy led the way toward the car-park. "Faster to go around the outside of the track." He said. "Pepper... we won't be out there with him. He's currently in the Monaco race. There's only so much you can do without being in the car with him."

"I know." Pepper said. "But I have to. Even if it's not much, it has to be me. It's always been me."

Happy reacted to that, and Pepper wished she could take it back, but by then they were at the car.

The St Devote corner was the first hurdle. Tony had taken it way too fast and somehow made the turn, though he'd given them time to get closer.

He'd accelerated through the Monte Carlo Casino run, gaining ground on the rest of the field. Only one or two drivers ahead of him, the rest behind. He took the Fairmont Hotel hairpin with ease, almost drifting the car around the turn.

His car had been altered to have much better down-force, and Tony blasted his way through the tunnel. The tunnel would be the wrong place for a crash anyway. A lot of drivers had trouble going from darkness to light at those speeds without wiping out. Stark couldn't let that happen to him. The tunnel would become a narrow underground death-tube for everyone who followed him; which was most of the pack.

After the tunnel there was a few turns, and after that a chicane; it would be one of the few places that one car could get around another. A very tricky set of extreme turns. plenty of professional drivers had wiped out there.

"How much longer?" Pepper asked from the backseat.

Hogan was weaving his way around the outside of the track, cutting wider around streets full of people and parked cars. "Another few minutes." Hogan called back. "The streets are pretty narrow. There are thousands of people here..."

Pepper grit her teeth. "I... Happy, I don't know if I can wait that long."

Happy took that in. "Okay. Hang on." He cut the wheel right and floored the Audi and smashed through the gate, and suddenly Pepper felt the walls closing in on her. The street had turned really narrow, and Pepper realized that they were on the racetrack. "Happy!"

"You said you were in a hurry!" Happy called over his shoulder. "I think we can make the Stark Pit Stop before the race-cars reach us!"

"We better! I don't wanna get rear-ended by a Formula One car!" Pepper screeched.

"Well no problem there." Happy shouted back over the rushing noise. "We're going the other way. They'll be coming straight at us head on!"

Tony floored the accelerator. The engine groaned in response, doing what it had been built, piece by piece, to do. The walls around his race-car blurred from the velocity. Tony didn't even know exactly where they were. It was glorious, it was exhilarating. It was nothing compared to being Iron Man.

Tony howled with the adrenaline as the pain in his chest made his vision blur. He was practically blind as he fed more power still into the engine, demanding more speed.

His eyes cleared just enough to see the concrete jumped toward him. He spun the wheel and locked it to the hard left. He wasn't even sure if he was turning it the right way.

He was. The road was open again before him, and Tony spun the wheel back, barely clearing both sides of the turn. His hands were shaking on the wheel, he was fighting for breath, he couldn't stop the way his vision blurred.

He shifted gears and pushed the race-car faster, willing more speed from the engines he had designed, tempting, almost daring the fates to end him; quickly and gloriously. This would be a good death. A Viking Funeral. Exactly the way Tony Stark would go.

Vanko picked his moment. The first two race-cars were on their way. For all the attention that Tony Stark had gotten with his last minute antics, the racers were following the race. Most of the cameras were on the Race Leader.

Vanko took a breath, steeled himself. The kind of mental preparation a man needed when faced with destiny. He stepped out of the Pit, over the barricades, onto the track.

He could hear the volume of the voices on the radio intensify. He was directly in the path of the oncoming Race leader; maybe fifteen seconds from being killed. More than enough time to yank his jumpsuit open, revealing the glowing circle mounted over his chest.

Up his sleeves, the whips slipped into position in his hands, and they came alive, crackling with Arc Reactor electricity. Twin glowing ropes of pure deathly white. The electricity flashed about him; making his dreadlocks flare to life, and his jumpsuit burst into flames, revealing the grid-work of his near exo-suit beneath.

Vanko did not hurry. He did not need to. There was plenty of time for people to get a good look at him as he calmly stared down the manned rockets that came toward him.

The Race Leader screamed around the corner. On the tight road there was no way to avoid Vanko; the blind turn made it impossible to slow down.

Vanko stared it down like a matador, and cracked his whip with a toothy grin.

From the furl of the whip came a shock-wave of electrical power. For a fraction of a second, everything was bleached out by the sound of lighting striking the earth.

The shock-wave hit the lead car and sliced into it like a hot knife through melted butter. nobody could follow the movement properly. Lightning struck where Vanko demanded, and the race-car was suddenly in two perfect halves, their momentum tossing the racer and his wreckage into the sky.

Pepper and Happy were screaming around hairpin turns, Pepper convinced that with every turn they would come face to face with an oncoming Race-car. Happy was in his element, spinning the wheel back and forth.

Then the radio; set to the race, started yammering something in a much higher pitch. Pepper leaned forward suddenly, listening. "WAIT! Oh god!"

"What is it?" Happy demanded. "I don't speak French."

"Trouble on the track." She croaked. "Get the Football ready!"

"That bad huh?"

Pepper fought to keep his arm still as he spun the wheel. The handcuffed case was banging against them both as she tried to get it loose. "Where's the key?"

"In my pants pocket."

Without hesitation, Pepper leaned over the back of the seat and started feeling for Happy's waist. "Watch the road!"

Vanko kept moving, letting everyone get a good look. The second car came running; and Vanko cracked the other whip. Lighting and thunder in the same second, and this car was neatly sliced through the front axle, the car having enough momentum to flip clean over Vanko and explode as it hit the ground behind him.

Vanko still didn't break stride. people were screaming, smoke and fire erupting behind him...

And Stark came rushing around the corner, oblivious to the destruction in front of him.

Vanko felt the electricity pouring through his limbs, literally flying from his fingers, and he brought the lightning down again, quick as a striking rattlesnake.

The front half of Stark's race-car was smashed into the road, the rest flipped over. Vanko swiped up with the other whip and severed the back half of the car.

The cab went sliding, upside down along the road until it reached a wall and slammed to a halt.

Vanko moved in for the kill as he struck, over and over, slicing off whole hunks of the car, leaving the drivers seat for last.

He flipped the last hunk of car over...

The driver's seat was empty.

Stark suddenly emerged from the smoke with a hunk of debris in his hands, and brought it down on the Russian's back, right between the shoulder-blades. It clanged against the framework that kept his arms steady under the power of the whips. Vanko dialed down the power a few levels and flashed the whip up again, the shock-wave sending Stark flying back against the opposite barricade.

The whip came over and down again, Tony rolled frantically to the left, then the right as the whips carved glowing lines a foot deep into the track. He rolled, tried to get to his feet, when Vanko brought both whips together; lightning flashed again, and Tony went sprawling.

Vanko gave a feral grin and moved in, cracking the whips down over and over, digging huge gouges out of the concrete, getting closer and closer with each and every Whiplash.

Tony had half been expecting the car to vanish in a burst of flame around him since the first turn. The huge bear of a guy with bright electrical whips was a surprise. Lying on the road, fighting to clear his vision, the burning in his chest keeping him from moving, Tony looked up blearily at the man moving in for the kill, the world flashing white with every attack.

Tony fought to move his limbs; he hadn't been this helpless against an attack since...

The roar of engines distracted his attacker for a moment, the rest of the field catching up finally. The sight of exploding cars made the first on spin away, locking the wheels and the breaks. Half a dozen race-cars came up behind him; smashing into each other in a fiery explosion.

The whips came closer, and Tony wasn't sure if it was the whips of the pain in his head that made each crack sound like a bomb going off.

There was another engine; this time from the other direct. With a wall of flame behind them; Vanko was surprised by the sudden movement from the opposite end of the track, a huge black and silver Audi came through the smoke, bashed aside the wreckage, and slammed into Vanko's midsection, sandwiching him against the barricade.

Vanko grunted from the impact, and collapsed across the hood of the car; the whips went dark.

Tony fought to his feet and came over to the car. "Hey-"

"ARE YOU INSANE!" Pepper screeched at him. "ARE YOU COMPLETELY OUT OF YOUR MIND?"

Tony came closer, rubbing his head. "Would you mind screaming a little quieter? I've got-"

Vanko lifted his head and groaned, apparently alive and kicking. The whips flared to life.

"Give me the Football!" Tony yelled. "And hit him again!"

Happy backed up the Audi, ready to ram it forward again, as Pepper fought to get the huge briefcase out the window.

Vanko moved again, the sparks showering over everything as they moved the whips back and forth over the hood.

Pepper was about to throw the Football out the window, when the Audi started moving forward again, throwing her off balance.

WHAM! Vanko was bent over the hood again. There was blood in his mouth, fire in his eyes and hatred in his heart as he flicked a wrist up; and brought the lash down again! It was chaos! Pepper was screaming, Happy was screaming, Tony was screaming at both of them, and the Audi was vanishing slice by slice from the car doors inward.

The Audi was severed, cleaved right down the middle; the shock-wave nearly taking Pepper out with it. The Audi fell apart; right down the middle. Half the car fell over, and Pepper was suddenly half outside the car. She threw Tony the football as Vanko smashed the whip down again.

Tony, finally able to do something, unlocked the case, and pulled the handles of the case apart. The handles hit into his palms and he pulled them apart like a ripcord.

The Suitcase Armor had been Tony's latest idea, after one two many talk-shows referred to him as a superhero. All the other heroes could take their costume with them.

The suitcase armor was essentially a hundred tiles in four blocks, all of them connected by thin wires that ran the length of his arms, hand to hand via the handles. Pulling his arms out as far as he could was like pulling the ripcords, and a red silver armor folded out across his body, slice by slice folding into place. A portable Iron Man.

It was a cheap copy of the Mark IV. No flight, no advanced sensors, no Uni-Beam, thinner armor; but once again, Iron Man was on duty. He shoved what was left of the Audi, Pepper and Happy included, and it all went skidding away.

Vanko shook off the impact, and the two of them took each other in. The fold-out armor made Iron Man look not unlike a humanoid reptile in red and silver. Vanko; wearing the tattered remains of a orange jumpsuit as leggings, and a grid or metal rods and gears across his every limb, making his limbs solid enough to handle the thick cable whips.

Tony's head was clear, despite the agony. His eyes focused on the one thing the two of them had in common. A glowing circle of power; dead center in both chest-pieces.

Vanko grinned cruelly. He knew what Iron Man was thinking.

Stark was sweating in the armor. It was happening again. Someone else had taken his inventions and used them to kill innocent people. But where the hell did this guy get an Arc Reactor? There were only two of them. One was mounted in his chest right now, the other at home; the same generator that Pepper had put into his chest when he'd upgraded it.

Iron Man made the first move, lifting a hand. There was a half-second whine of power, and the repulsor glowed.

In the instant before it fired, Vanko moved faster. The whips came up, lightning cracked, and the shock-wave blew the armored hand aside.

Iron Man spun on his feet, trying to stay upright, and came back with the other hand, firing a blast at his opponent, who somehow managed to deflect it with one of those whips.

The other whip came up in the same movement. Lightning cracked and Iron Man staggered back. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Two more blows, one wrapping the whip around his neck, the other around his shoulder and suddenly Iron Man was being thrown.

Inside the suit, Stark was stunned. True, this wasn't his heavy suit, but still... It was the first time Iron Man had been thrown off his feet by anything less than a tank.

Stark looked down at himself in shock. He could see his jumpsuit. His armor was breached! What could just slice his Armored skin open like that?

Vanko wasn't content to let him think about it. The whips came up again, one around his ankle, one around his neck. Vanko was apparently able to control the output, because suddenly the electricity arcing around the cable intensified. All the readouts on the HUD went berserk, fritzing in and out completely.

Vanko yanked in the end of the whip, sending Iron Man smashing back up and down again, this time crashing onto the hood of the severed Audi. Another flick of the Russian's arms and Iron Man was on the ground, hog tied by electrical whips.

Think Tony! He ordered himself. His weapon is a whip. You need room to whip someone. So don't give him room! Just like Happy taught you! Get inside his hits!

Iron Man fought to half-stand, put out a hand, and wrapped the whip around his own arm, reeling the cable in. The other whip came up, and Iron Man grabbed it before it could strike, much closer to his opponent now. The cable wrapped around Iron Man's chest and he was more than willing to get closer. Ignoring the fire that raged across his skin, Tony stepped in closer, wrapped another coil around his arm, and pulled back an Armored fist.

Vanko had the whips attached to his arms directly. There was no way to abandon them and get clear, and the huge man felt a red steel glove smash into his chin, then again into the side of his head, then again into his gut.

Vanko reeled, still flesh and blood, until Iron Man tossed him over in a wrestling move, and reached down to his chest, yanking the Arc Reactor clear.

The whips electrical charge died fast and quiet. The game was over.

What audience had stayed after the cars started exploding, or had returned with their camera-phones once Iron Man had appeared, burst into cheers and applause. Their Superhero had saved the day again.

Stark wasn't cheering. Neither were Pepper and Happy. They knew.

Vanko knew it too. As the security came to drag him and his useless whips away, he spat out a mouthful of blood and broken teeth; and laughed hoarsely at Iron Man. "You lose!" He cackled in a thick Russian accent. "Hahaha! You! Lose!"

Iron Man looked down at the small arc reactor in his hand. It was not one of his. He had only made three. The first, which was sitting on his workbench at home. The second, which was destroyed with Iron Monger, and the third in his chest. This was not one of them. This was... someone else's work. Someone else had discovered the trick of making Arc Reactor technology. And that was the missing piece to Iron Man.

Without hesitation, Iron Man crushed it in his fist, and looked outward, seeing all the cameras, still recording the whole event with great interest.

Hammer watched the screen with great interest. Everyone was shocked, certainly. Most of them horrified. Most of the society elite knew, or was in some way connected to the racers in the Monaco Grand Prix, which was suddenly a bloodbath. At least three cars had exploded, to say nothing of the pile-up... There were casualties, plus the attack on Stark...

The whole room had Whiplash, but Hammer could barely contain his grin. Stark had just been beaten; quickly and painfully. Even if he had won the fight, Stark had been shown up, made to look like a liar, knocked on his ass, and left bleeding in full view of the entire world.

By someone who had the magic bullet. An Arc Reactor. Either someone out there had built Arc Technology without Stark, or someone was selling them without his knowledge. Either way; Stark had become redundant, by his own actions, by his own smugness. There was suddenly another way. Someone else.

Someone else who was being put in jail.

Someone else who could probably use a friend in power.

Hammer grinned. Oh, this was going to be sweet!

AN: Read and Review!