Rhodes was preparing another batch of recruits for their indoctrination at Edwards Air Force base, when an airman came up and told him to report to the CO's office.
Waiting for him, reading a file, was the Base Commander Major Allen and a pair of airmen.
"Lt Colonel Rhodes, reporting as ordered sir."
"At Ease Rhodes." Allen didn't look up from the file. "I have the results of your last physical here. You're in good health."
"Thank you sir." Though Allen was a Major, he was the base commander, and Colonel Rhodes was not stationed there himself. It just happened to be the closest posting for Stark Industries' distribution. But with SI no longer in the weapons trade; that had fallen into something of a limbo. While on base, Rhodes gave the Base Commander a wide berth. It was his house, and Rhodey was a guest in it.
"Remove your jacket please." Allen said.
Rhodey didn't have a clue what was going on; but did so. The two airmen came forward and began taking his measurements. Arms, torso, legs, waist; even his hands.
"Sir, can I ask what this is about?"
The airmen finished noting down the results and they headed out.
Allen waited for them to be gone. "Rhodes, we're comparing your measurements to those of Tony Stark, to see if you can possibly work the Iron Man weapon."
Rhodey felt his heart speed up a little. This was it. Tony had finally pissed them off too much and the US Government was about to declare war. They would take the suits while Stark was in Monaco, he would come back and scream bloody murder, and the military would graciously bog him and his lawyers in trials and courts and hearings and committees for the next year while they tore Iron Man apart and put out their own suits together. "Sir, I must point out that the Senate Committees have failed to define any clear and present threat that requires-"
"There's one now." BC interrupted. He tossed Rhodes the remote. "Turn on the TV."
Rhodes did so. "Which station?"
"Any of them."
Rhodes felt a chill and did so. There on the screen was a newscaster, looking grim, with a freeze-framed shot of a huge man framed by massive explosions, and two glowing whips in his hands.
Rhodey felt his face harden. The huge man was wearing an Arc Reactor; looking a lot like the one Iron Man had.
The newscaster was talking; rapid fire. "Stark Industries has released a statement, direct from Tony Stark. He says: 'The fight is over, and I won. Iron Man saved the day. The attacker is in custody. I'm still top of the food chain; and you're welcome.' Though praising Mr Stark's ability and his quick victory; the statement is not good enough for most. Senator Stern was quick to call for-"
Rhodey shut his eyes for a moment. Stark had been so secretive about his weapon. And then he rubbed their noses in it. Then he made it a show. He got away with it because people wanted Iron Man on their side; and humoring Tony Stark was the only way.
Not any more.
BC checked the file again. "Rhodes, we're going to ask you to follow an unusual order. I want you to lose half an inch from your waistline; and bulk up your shoulders a little. I want you to wear some pads under your shirt to widen the base of your neck; and I want you to talk to our medical staff. They'll teach you how to bind up your legs with bandages to make them a bit narrower-"
"Sir!" Rhodes interrupted. "Permission to speak freely?"
"Granted."
"Are you intending to steal the suits?"
"Colonel Rhodes, the decision is made; we are getting Iron Man. The only thing left now is how, who does it, and who wears it afterward. Now; you are obviously at the top of a very short list; but there are some other, very prestigious officers being hand picked for the US Military Iron Man program..."
"Sir, I think that-"
"Rhodes, listen to me." His CO had dropped the commanding tone, being more personal. "I know he's your friend. You went running into Afghanistan to pull him out yourself. That kind of loyalty does not come often. But the fact is, that he's been burning bridges with everyone in power since he got back from that Terrorist camp, and he expects us to thank him for acting like a two year old. These weapons aren't a theoretical game any more. They are out there, and today they're killing race car drivers. Tomorrow, who knows. We can't humor him any more. Every weapons designer, every branch of the service, every government knows there's another supply out there somewhere. Stark, as of now, is not worth it. Tony Stark, by his own doing, is obsolete."
"And what about Iron Man?" Rhodes demanded.
"Iron Man is an incredible asset. But he's not one of ours. SAC's motto is: Peace is our Profession. Defending people from great and terrible threats is our way of life. For Tony Stark, it's a hobby." he took a breath. "Edwards is the closest base with the relevant equipment and personnel. We have jurisdiction. If Stark decides to be childish about it, the National Guard has been alerted-"
"Sir!" Rhodes blurted. "I believe that making this a-"
"Calm down Rhodes." Allen commanded. "This is just a preliminary action. We're not quite there yet."
"Sir, I can talk to him. The situation has changed, and even Tony must get that now..."
"Well he'd better. I hate to keep putting you in a room with the jackass, but you have to give Stark the news. Either Iron Man is on duty 24/7, or we have our own War Machines doing it for him." Allen said firmly. "Rhodes, the sort of person you want wearing the Iron Man suit; does not have to be convinced to do the right thing."
It had taken Natalie Rushman all of four seconds to convince the Warden to let Stark question 'Whiplash'. In the absence of any other name; the press had gone inventing again. Stark spoke French, so Pepper and Rushman had been left behind. The guy was being held before his trial, in a grungy small prison.
Tony had his wounds tended to, but had caught a look at his face. He looked rough. For once, he didn't have to hide it. Stark followed the Warden down the hallway, past a dozen prison cells; all of them occupied.
The warden gave him the full dossier, such as it was. "No Identification on him. We don't know how he got into the country. His dental came back negative. He's had a lot of work done, but it's cheap work, and not on any official register. We ran the fingerprints, and we got a match on Interpol. His name is Ivan Vanko. He hasn't said a word since we brought him in."
"He'll talk to me." Stark said.
"You have two minutes. He's dangerous, and without your armor..."
"Two minutes." Stark agreed.
Stark was let into the Interrogation Room. The lights were off, and there was a little light from the small barred window. Vanko was sitting in the middle of the room with his back to the door, handcuffed to a bench, which was bolted to the floor. Stark took a longer look at him. He had long dreadlocks, huge muscles; and was covered in prison tattoos. He did not turn when Stark began to speak.
"Palladium core. Suspended between Zinc brackets. Keeps the charge; without temperature regulators. Nice trick." Stark said. "If you wired the cables in those whips together with something non-conductive, you'd be able to keep a much stronger charge. Making the framework powered was a nice touch. I could build it better of course."
He came around in front of Vanko, holding the mangled reactor in his hand. "It looks right. Where'd you get it?"
Vanko grinned. He had a mouth full of metal teeth. But he still didn't speak.
"The attack was a stupid idea. You could have sold it." Tony continued. "North Korea. China. Hell, even Russia. You look like you have friends in low places. Tell me where it came from; I'll put in a good word for you."
Finally, Vanko spoke. "You come from a family of thieves and murderers." He growled. "And now, like all guilty men; you seek to rewrite history; to make you look like the benefactor, rather than the death dealer. As if Iron Man made your weapons less destructive, and made you more noble."
Tony tensed. It wasn't a hit. It was personal. "Who gave you this design?"
"My father. Anton Vanko." He said this with pride.
Tony sensed a raw nerve to strike. Work the opening Tony, work the room."I don't know who that is."
"He's the only reason you're alive." Vanko growled. He was pointing at Tony's chest.
Stark shivered. Who the hell was this guy? "I'm alive because you took your shot and you missed."
"No I didn't." Vanko leaned back, satisfied. "If you can make God bleed; people will cease to believe in Him; and the sharks will come. I did far worse than kill you. I made you bleed. I just have to watch as they devour you."
Stark was a little shaken by that. It was true. He had literally placed himself above every military on the planet. It wasn't like he thought he could keep them at bay indefinitely. It was just that he planned to be dead by then. By now, for that matter. He fought for bravado. "Where will you watching from? Oh. Right. In Prison." Stark shot back. "I'll send you some soap."
Stark turned to leave. Vanko did not bother to watch him go. "Stark? Palladium leeching into the chest... Painful way to die. You should have let me beat you."
Stark paled. He was telling the truth. He understood the technology himself. He knew what the Arc Reactor was doing to him.
For the second time, Stark left a confrontation with this man; to the sound of his laughter.
Ivan grinned. Stark actually thought he'd won. He actually thought that nobody would come for him. Vanko knew better. His father had died because the rules had become inconvenient. he had been disavowed because the rule-makers decided he was no longer worth it. He knew the truth. Laws existed at the convenience of power and money. Ivan had provided the chance for both.
Blood was in the water. It was only a question of which shark would devour Iron Man first; and which ones would come to Vanko for help.
Stark One took off from Monaco that night; and made it's way back toward LA. Rushman had gone ahead to finalize plans for the Stark Birthday party, and Happy had gone with her because Stark knew that the second the CEO was back in the States, the hounds would come. He didn't want Pepper caught up in it until he could be there too.
Four hours into the flight, Tony was curled into the fetal position in his private cabin, while the stomach cramps rolled through him in waves. Tony whimpered through it for almost an hour, till it passed enough that he could get up. He went to the kitchenette and made himself an omelette. Eggs were light on the stomach.
He took a deep whiff of the pan while it cooked, and the deep inhalation set off a coughing fit. The pain lanced through his chest as he coughed and Tony reached for the chlorophyll with shaking hands. He managed to spill a large swig of it into the pan before he could get any of it into his mouth. His hands were shaking so badly that he had to change his shirt.
After washing his face, he rushed back to the pan, and found that the omelette was half-burned. Tony didn't care. He'd lost his appetite. Even so, he knew he hadn't eaten a meal that stayed down in more than three days, so he took it with him anyway; vowing to have something.
He came out into the cabin, and found Pepper watching Larry King. Senator Stern was being interviewed.
"No, no of course not Larry." Senator Stern said plainly. "It was a completely unforeseen attack. The kind of attack that Justin Hammer was warning us about not three days ago; when Stark told us all that these weapons either belonged to him, or were twenty years away. News Flash, these weapons are here now. Something that most everyone seemed to have seen coming, except for Iron Man himself!"
"Are you saying that Stark could have prevented this event by making the Iron Man technology available?"
"We have always wanted Iron Man to become part of the US Military, accountable to the American people. Stark's judgement has always been in question. Google him right now and see how often his name comes up without the word 'scandal' attached to it! His career has been a series of stupid moves, rescued by his unfortunate brilliance, and his staff. With the death of Obadiah Stane, a close personal friend of mine, may he rest in peace; Stark has put his secretary charge! Just like that. Never mind, that there are people on his Board of Directors who have been working with the Government, the military, and the Stark family longer than this Potts woman has been alive; never mind that she has no managerial experience; never mind than nobody has even asked if she is remotely ! She now holds a post that carries with it the livelihoods of thousands of American workers, billions of dollars, and with Iron Man at the top; she has to carry the hopes for the entire free world!"
"You're saying she can't handle it?"
"I'm saying that it's time for Stark to stop playing with the lives of people who are counting on him. Iron Man is the greatest weapons innovation since the Manhattan Project, and Stark is treating it like a toy he doesn't want to share. The protection of the United States has long been in the capable hands of our Armed Forces, and for the last year, Tony Stark has been telling us-"
"Mute."
The TV sound cut out, and Pepper turned to look at him as he came in. "He does love to hear himself talk doesn't he?"
"Doesn't make him wrong." Pepper said quietly.
Tony sat down and set the plate next to him on the side table. Pepper looked at it. "What's that?"
"Your in-flight meal." Tony said instantly, and took the microwave lid off. The microwave had made the omelette look even less appealing. One side was burned beyond recognition, the other side melted somehow, soaked with thick green chlorophyll that had been spilled into it.
Pepper looked at it, trying not to gag. "Um... did you make that yourself?"
"Where do you think I've been the last three hours." Tony leaned back and put his fork down. He wasn't going to pretend appetite either; and covered up the plate. The shadows in the plane shifted as the plane banked, and suddenly they were both bathed in the sun.
For a long silent moment, they just looked at each other. Tony was staring. She just looked so... beautiful the sunrise. The orange light was coming in from the window as the private jet raced the dawn; lit up her hair...
Pepper glanced at him. He was still staring. He didn't care. He felt like he'd been washed in a river and beaten on a rock. His skin felt stretched over his bones, his eyes felt like sandpaper, and there she was... and she looked so soft, and warm and alive...
"Tony..." Pepper searched for the right words softly. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
Tony took the moment. He'd had months to rehearse this; to think about his answer. She knew him so well. She knew he was hiding something. She knew... she knew him. What to say?
Pepper; I am dying. I've tried everything I can think of and it hasn't worked. I am going to die, and I picked you to run everything after I was gone; because if this is the end of my everything, I wanted you to be the one centre stage in my last thoughts, because you are...
No.
Pepper; you've been my best friend for a long time. I'm not a person who makes best friends. I've relied on you for everything for as long as I can remember. I'm not someone who relies on people. For my every rule, you are the exception. I'm going to die, and I wanted you to be the only person I tell, because you're the only person who means...
No.
Pepper, when I was in Afghanistan, I thought I was going to die. I have no family; I didn't care about the money; and whenever I thought of home, I was thinking about you. Now I know I'm going to lose this fight. And I have no right to ask you to stay with me, but I am, because...
No.
Pepper; I'm going to die. I'm not taking anything else seriously, because I know the game is over. Once I'm gone, I have no doubt that you will do the right thing by me. I wish you didn't have to take this now; but you were still the right choice and I don't care what the talking heads on CNN say. It's you. It's always been you.
No.
Pepper; I'm dying. I want you to know because after everything we've been through together; all the good times and the bad...
No.
Pepper; I love you.
Tony took a breath, and started to speak. "Pepper... I don't wanna go home."
Pepper blinked. "What?"
"I don't want to go home." Tony said, soft as a psalm. "We're in a jet. Let's just keep flying."
Pepper's warmth faded a bit. She looked a little disappointed. "Tony..."
He knew what it looked like. He looked like a little kid who broke something and was running away from his parents wrath. He didn't care. He didn't want to spend his last days being yelled at. He didn't want to face all that crap from the military, or the press. He didn't want Pepper being stuck on the phone in a fistfight with anyone he pissed off...
He wanted...
"Let's go to Venice." Tony said quietly. "You remember Venice?"
Pepper smiled despite herself at the memory. Yikes, the hotel staff had gone berserk that day. "Oh yes. I remember Venice."
Tony laughed. "I wish I had a picture of your face as you walked in. You looked so cute."
"Me?" Pepper laughed. "What about you? I couldn't look at your face for days."
Tony grinned wickedly.
"I was embarrassed look at your face that is." Pepper clarified, blushing bright pink.
"Like I said, Iron Man was not the worst thing you ever caught me doing."
They laughed warmly for a moment; enjoying all their history. The smile melted off his face and he looked... smaller. "Let's go to Venice. It's a great place to be... healthy."
"Tony." Pepper broke it to him kindly. "This is hardly the time. As CEO, I should... well, show up."
Tony wasn't smiling. He looked like a gambler who was desperately trying to stop a losing streak. "As CEO Pepper, you're entitled to a... a retreat."
Pepper looked disappointed. "A retreat? In the middle of all this?"
"Just... a break. Recharge the batteries."
Something was wrong. Something had been wrong for a long time. Pepper looked at him. He was... sad. Tony didn't get sad. He looked... smaller. Like he was actually trying not to cry. She wanted to reach out and hug him; and she didn't know why. She didn't know why; because he wasn't telling anything.
Pepper looked at him, soft and gentle. She hated telling him that the time to play was over. "Tony... not everyone runs on batteries."
They just looked at each other. It felt like they were both holding their breath. The moment felt so horribly... Fragile.
Tony closed his eyes gently and leaned back in his seat. Pepper found she was holding her breath, and after a while, she got up, retrieved a blanket from his private cabin, and brought it out, putting it over him. If he didn't want to sleep in his bed, she didn't mind.
"I'm so tired." He whispered without opening his eyes.
Pepper leaned down and stroked his shoulder softly. "Rest Tony. Just rest."
"When I wake up... will you be here?" He asked miserably.
"I promise." Pepper told him.
Vanko had been taken to a cell. It was small enough that he could reach end to end without even stretching his arms.
He waited. He had been in prison cells before. One was much like any other he had seen. The facilities and the food were the only things that changed from one prison to another.
Vanko waited. He was patient.
He did not have to wait nearly as long as he thought.
Hammer was not a patient man. He was fully aware that some things took time, and had no worries about letting them happen. But when you had his kind of money, you were used to seeing people jump. Things that did not have to take time frustrated him. Legal options simply did not exist, he knew that before he started. So he went to his own Assistant; Jack White.
Jack had gone quickly to the underground fight circuit. To pull this off, they would need someone who could pass for Vanko. The underground fight circuit was pretty brutal; and one of the most dangerous regulars was Marcus. He mostly worked the Chicago fight clubs, so Hammer dispatched his team to bring them in. Some rich people had ex-cops on payroll for security. Stark had an ex-boxer. Hammer hired a team of black belts. Money was better in working for him and not asking questions.
Hammer was on his way to New York, Marcus would be on his way to Monaco. They met halfway in an airport.
Marcus was brought before Hammer in a private hangar, which housed Hammer's private plane. Marcus came off the plane after the hangar door had closed; and found Hammer sitting at a table, complete with tablecloth, candles and sterling silverware. The whole thing was impossibly out of place.
Hammer spoke first. "Hey! There he is! The guest of honor. Please, have a seat!"
Marcus, feeling like he'd passed through the looking glass, sat down and had a waiter in dress black and white tie provide him with napkin, champagne...
"Do you know who I am?" Hammer asked.
"No." Marcus said.
"Good." Hammer pulled out a notepad and took a look. "So, Marcus huh? Well, This Is Your Life. Hope you don't mind, I did a little research. You're a four time loser in the criminal system. You got into jail, where you made some friends who came to you once you were out; offered you a job; left you to take the fall for them... Says here your daughter needs a liver transplant. That's a shame. She's what? Eleven?"
"Twelve." Marcus growled.
"That why you turned to crime? Can't say as I blame you. Hospital bills. That's a real crime."
"Yeah well." Marcus said uncomfortably. "Didn't work."
"Dude, that's harsh." Hammer nodded. "Dying slow without insurance. Terrible way to for a little girl to go. Expensive. Especially for someone who can't get a job parking cars thanks to your record." Hammer looked up. "Oh I'm sorry, I'm being rude. Please, have some caviar!"
Hammer pretended not to notice Marcus' hand close around the salad fork tightly. "Lousy thing to put on an ex-wife too."
"I wouldn't know." Marcus growled again, bunching his fists.
Hammer blinked and made a show of checking his notebook again. "Oh, that's right. Says you lost custody while in Joliet, and they haven't spoken to you since. Must be rough, not knowing what's going on with your kid. So... now you go from town to town around Chicago, fighting in illegal fight clubs, trying to earn some cash you can send them? What's that earn you? Hundred bucks a week? Maybe two?"
Marcus said nothing.
"What's your daughter's name? Lucy? Great name. I love Lucy. Great show too." Hammer smirked. "You know something Marc... can I call you Marc? Marc, there might be a way to save her."
Marcus sat up straighter in his seat. They were finally getting to the point. "How?"
"Marc, baby. What you need is... the help of a friend. Someone who can afford these vital things. Someone who isn't shy about helping others in need. Someone like me."
"Just like that?" Marcus asked.
"For the right price, you can get anything in this world. Even a liver. Even a private hospital room. Even a skilled surgeon. The funny thing is, you just need the money. Not really an option for you."
Marcus picked up the wineglass and took a swig. "What do you want?"
"I need someone brought to me." Hammer said. "He looks a lot like you actually. You'd probably like him."
"So what do you need with me?"
"Well, this guy, who's name you don't care about, is currently hard to get to."
"Thought money could get you anything." Marcus needled.
"It can. But I'm not the only one who's taking an interest. I need to do this fast, so it will have to be messy. I want this man. I don't want to argue with anyone. And I don't want anyone looking. You're a crook. You must know that the only people they don't hunt, are the ones that are dead already. And you've taken the fall for others once already."
Beat. Marcus stared. "You're asking me to..."
"No, I'm telling you that there's a job available. You don't know who I'm after, you don't know why, you just said you don't know my name. Walk away now, I won't try to stop you. Save your life, forget this conversation. I'll find somebody else, you can take your chances for $100 victories in fights that aren't any more legal than what I'm asking, and your daughter will die, slowly and painfully while your ex-wife curses your name."
Silence. Neither of them had said it out loud, but it was a suicide mission, and they both knew it.
Marcus stared Hammer down... before finally nodding. "You'll take care of her?"
"I will."
Marcus took it with stoicism. For a moment, his eyes moistened, but then he set his jaw tightly. "If there was any other way to save my daughter, I would reach across this table and kill you for even suggesting this."
Hammer sipped his champagne, barely looking at him. "Good thing for me there isn't any other way."
Silence.
Marcus licked his lips. "Can I... can I leave a message? Write her a letter or something?"
Hammer pulled a pen out of his pocket without hesitation. "Somebody get this man a pad and an envelope!" While White scrambled off to obey, Hammer handed Marcus the pen. "You like it? Mont Blanc pen. One of the best pens in the world. Expensive."
White returned with the pad, and Marcus started writing slowly. After several minutes, he folded the page, and slid his letter into the envelope. He wrote Lucy's name on the front and handed it back to Hammer. Marcus stood. "When do I leave?"
Hammer waved at his men, and his security team moved to escort Marcus out of the hangar.
White turned to face him a moment later. "I will make the arrangements for his daughter's transplant sir."
"No." Hammer said curtly.
"Sir?"
"We can't risk it. There can be no connection between me and this man, or me and Vanko. If anyone tries to figure out our deception; we can make it look like someone else did it; as long as there's nothing for them to get from the body. There'll be a long list of suspects."
"But, you said-"
"I made a deal with a dead man Jack. He won't know if I don't follow though. Neither will his kid. They don't even know where he is. They won't miss him. If we do pay for the kid; somebody is going to wonder where the money came from and why. Let it drop. It costs nobody anything and everybody gets what they expect once this all disappears. Not my fault that nobody expects anything of Marcus."
"As you wish Mr Hammer." But it was clear he didn't like it.
Hammer ripped Marcus' letter in half. "Don't get sentimental Jack. I'm a rich man. I got that way by not wasting money on expensive things I don't need. Pass the caviar."
Vanko waited. It was all a question of who came first.
The first to come was a guard who slid a meal tray through the cell door. Vanko reached forward and took it. He wasn't particularly hungry, but you couldn't take your chances on food. you never knew when the next meal would come.
There was a small note on the tray, and Vanko grinned.
Enjoy the Mashed Potatoes.
Vanko prodded the potatoes. The white mound was a solid piece. Vanko grinned and picked the lump of play-dough over. There was a timer with a 30 second countdown. Plastic Explosive.
The door opened again, before Vanko had time to hide the bomb. It didn't matter. It was the same guard who supplied his 'meal'. The door opened, and Vanko received a cell-mate, who just stood there.
The man was wearing a prison uniform... with an identical ID number to Vanko's own stitched over his lapel, and Ivan knew what he was meant to do.
Vanko took in the large man. He was Vanko's size, had dreadlocks... from the way he stood, he knew how to handle himself in a fight. It would be a tough battle in close quarters like this..
The man spoke. "Once I'm dead, you must use the explosive to destroy any evidence. Turn left after leaving the cell." He said. Four doors down, there is a stairwell. The door has been left unlocked. Take the stairs down and you will be met." Beat. "But don't trust him."
Vanko blinked. The man was a willing victim?
"What are you waiting for?" The man asked, and Vanko noticed that he had a mouthful of recent dental work. "Do it!"
Vanko stood up, laid a hand on the newcomer's shoulder "Brother, I bear no anger toward you. You know that."
"Mister, I don't even know who you are." Marcus retorted. "Just make it quick. Save my daughter's life."
Vanko swiftly understood. There was very little that could make a man such as this simply give in to an opponent he could fight. Vanko nodded without regret. "You should know, that you are not the first man I have seen killed for a chance at freedom." Vanko said kindly. "Or for the life of his child. I thank you."
The man nodded. Something primal passed between them, and Marcus made the move, instinctive, habitual, it was almost fast enough that Vanko considered blocking the hit before striking back...
Vanko brought the hand on his shoulder higher, caught a fistful of hair, and pulled him face-down against the sink in a short sharp drop, smashing his face apart.
The man dropped, and didn't get up.
The same guard passed the door again, and left the key within reach without breaking stride.
Vanko moved swiftly, planting the explosive against the wall. He quickly calculated where to put it; that would case the most damage within the cell, but very little outside the cell. After that, he reached through the bars and used the key to let himself out.
He made it to the stairwell door when the explosive went off. Alarms went berserk across the Prison and Vanko sped up. in the stairwell, Vanko could hear people rushing up toward him from the lower levels, and was suddenly uncertain. His latest victim had warned that he would be met, but did not say by who, or from where.
He was about to turn and run when a black bag went over his head.
Two pairs of arms caught him around the chest and started pulling him downstairs. A pair of handcuffs went around his wrists.
For a time, Vanko struggled not to kill them both from the beat of sheer panic. He had been black bagged before. It was the favorite trick of special ops and secret police. In Siberia, Vanko had seen prisoners taken away with black bags over their heads, never to return. he had heard tales of KGB bagging their prisoners and shooting them dead on the spot...
He fought to breathe. Prison guards in Monaco didn't use those tactics on escaped prisoners. Whoever they were, they were trying to keep his face hidden.
That was all. That had to be all.
Even so, his muscles bunched. He could have this bag off in seconds, he could have the men holding it there dead just as fast; handcuffs be damned. Part of him was expecting the bullet any second as he was rushed down the hallway.
He was released, dropped, and hit a metal floor. The sound of a door slamming, and Vanko grabbed for the bag over his head. His new 'cell' was the back of a truck. Dark, but moving.
Vanko was fine with it. He wasn't afraid of the dark, he wasn't afraid of carsickness, or the fact that he still didn't know who had broken him out. Just as long as that damned black bag was off his head.
He had his calm back in seconds. Once again, all he had to do was wait. It was not the first time.
He was patient.
Rhodes had been on the phone for hours with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. The list of people who demanded action was growing longer and more distinguished.
"Due respect, General, but Vanko's in jail. The odds that more people might have-"
"Vanko's dead." The Chairman interrupted.
Rhodes blinked. "Dead?"
"It looks like he was murdered. The cell he was in got blown to hell so it's hard to get any forensics."
"This guy built an Arc Reactor." Rhodes argued. "He was too smart to get himself blown up."
"Indeed, but it wasn't him. It looks like he was dead before the blast. The CIA guess is that someone approached him, probably about the Arc Reactor technology; the conversation went bad and he got himself killed. After that, so that he couldn't give what he knew to anyone else, they killed him; then the cell was blown to destroy any evidence. They did dental comparisons on the body; it matches Vanko. They checked the jumpsuit he was wearing, the prison numbers match. It's a confirmed kill. We're still trying to track down whoever killed him."
Rhodes considered. "Could be anyone trying to get at what he knew. Plenty of people would have come for him, even in jail."
"Exactly. Colonel, it's possible that Vanko may have given them the information, and he was killed to prevent him from giving the same information to anyone else. Rhodes, the courts have ruled, and the President wants to tread carefully. Either Iron Man joins us properly, or we get our own from Stark. I am prepared to recommend to the President that we activate the Californian National Guard."
Rhodes hesitated. He was arguing with someone far above his pay grade. "Sir, without an executive order, sending in the National Guard would be... dangerous."
"You don't think Stark would fight back as Iron Man, do you?"
He hadn't mean it that way, but now that he'd thought about it... "Well, sir I think that Mr Stark is a veteran of more battles than some National Guard units. He's taken down tanks and fighter jets before, and he's at his most volatile where his weapons are concerned. You don't want to invade his home."
"Giving orders Colonel?"
Rhodes swallowed. "No sir."
"Well, as it happens, the President agrees." The Chairman said. "But understand, this reprieve is only because Stark has removed the only other Arc powered opponent in the world. Within one hour of confirmation that foreign powers or terror groups have Arc or Iron Man technology; or if we get any indication that Iron Man isn't protecting us with all due seriousness, we take action."
"I will impress that upon Mr Stark sir."
Rhodey came storming into the Stark home in LA, and found two redheads, one familiar, one not, playing phone tag.
Pepper clapped a hand over her receiver. "Rhodey, this is Natalie Rushman; Tony's new PA. Natalie, this is Lt Colonel James Rhodes, SI's liaison with the Military."
The talking head on the screen was still going. "-this latest act of irresponsibility, we have to ask if this man can still be trusted to protect us!"
Pepper uncovered her phone. "Iron Man never stopped protecting us!" She countered. "What happened in Monaco was proof of that!" Pepper snapped.
Rhodey whispered to Rushman. "Where is he?"
"He doesn't wish to be disturbed." Rushman said in the same moment that Pepper covered her phone again and said. "He's Downstairs."
Rushman gave Pepper a dirty look as Rhodey headed downstairs toward the workshop.
Rhodes found Tony sitting in his garage, off the workshop, in the back of the hot-rod like it was a drive in movie, while Jarvis projected various clippings of Ivan Vanko's family history, starting with his father's defection, his arrest for espionage, and subsequent deportment. Also up were records of Ivan's own criminal actions.
Rhodey considered using the pass-code that Pepper gave him, but decided to just buzz at the door, rather than reveal that he had that card. Tony waved without turning, and the door unlocked for him as the projection faded.
"Tony, you've gotta get upstairs and handle this." Rhodey told him firmly. "I have been on the phone for the last two hours with the National Guard, and the Joint Chiefs. I am the only thing stopping them from rolling Tanks up your driveway; and taking these suits off you!" He pointed at the Iron Man suits, lined up in order. "You told us that nobody could do it for twenty years. Well somebody did it yesterday!"
Stark didn't look away from the empty air where the holograph used to be. Rhodey went over, right next to him and shouted the point over again. "They are going. To Take. Your Suits."
Tony's head sort of lolled to the left enough that he could look at Rhodey, and the soldier almost jumped back. Tony's skin was flushed and sweating, his eyes were sunken and feverish... he looked like he'd lost twenty pounds since leaving for Monaco, and his hair was plastered down with sweat.
Tony nodded slowly, and got out of his hot-rod. He almost made it out of the car before his legs gave out.
"Tony!" Rhodey rushed around the side of the car and hoisted him up over his shoulder.
"...desk..." Stark croaked. "...desk..."
Rhodey carried him over toward the workbench, and let him down into the chair. Tony reached with shaking hands toward the cigar box.
"Now, are you going to tell me what's wrong with you?" Rhodey demanded. He reached out and turned Tony's head a little to the left; seeing what looked like black spiderwebs creeping under Tony's skin. "Or about that hi-tech crossword puzzle creeping up your neck?"
Tony shook his friend off, slid a hand under his shirt and clicked the Arc Reactor out; with a burst of arid smoke from the Palladium core.
"Is that supposed to be smoking like that?" Rhodey asked, knowing the answer.
"It's neutron damage fro the Arc reactor if you must know." Tony replaced the palladium core.
"And you had that thing in your body?" Rhodey pressed.
Tony said nothing. Rhodes was smart. He was figuring it out. He could almost feel the Colonel's gaze burning into his neck. Tony swivelled the chair to hide his chest from Rhodey as he pulled his shirt up just enough to slide the Reactor back into his chest. The shaking in his hand slowed.
Rhodey stared at him. He looked terrible; but he was standing upright again. "What are you looking at?"
"Looking at you. You don't look good." Rhodey stared at him, willing him to understand. If Tony would just place a little bit of faith on people for once; people who had been specially chosen for the right reasons... "You don't have to do this alone Tony." Rhodey implored him. "They're always going to have the high ground, because they have people backing them up. This whole lone Gunslinger act is what turned them against you."
Tony wiped the cold sweat off his face. Tony... soon you're going to be too weak to keep them out.
No. He couldn't tell Rhodes he was dying. Rhodey would do the responsible thing and tell his superiors. His superiors would pounce and pick Iron Man clean. Rhodes was a friend, but he was a soldier. His loyalties were to them.
Pepper was too busy for him because he'd promoted her; Rushman was too... new, Happy was being driven away because Tony was acting childish about his thing with Pepper; Rhodey was a soldier, working for Stark's near-enemies...
Tony felt sick again. He was going to die alone, because he'd acted like himself for his entire life.
That thought hardened him. Why should he care? He shouldn't have to care. He didn't care.
"You don't have to do this alone Tony. You can trust us." Rhodes begged him. "You can trust me."
"Wish I could." Tony said; and he slugged down another gulp of chlorophyll. "But for now, this is the way it has to be. Contrary to popular opinion, I do know what I'm doing."
Vanko waited, he listened to the engine around him for several hours at least, maybe a day or two. The engine had faded for a while, probably because the truck was loaded into something. Ivan wasn't sure if he was being flown somewhere or carried by ship, but he knew that it wasn't being done legally.
It was all a question of who had come first. A government agency putting this much effort into being anonymous would have him killed once they had what they wanted. If it was a criminal organisation, they would do the same only be less painless about it.
If he had been caught by someone who's greed outweighed his judgement, Vanko knew he could turn the situation. A soldier would give him no room. A politician would give him no control. It was all a question of who opened the door.
Eventually, the door opened, and Vanko heard chamber music.
The same guard who left him the key led him out of the truck. The first thing Vanko saw was a private plane. In front of it was a table, set out with tablecloth, sterling silver...
"Hey-Hey! Look who's here!"
Vanko looked as the man who spoke came out. He was... extravagant. he moved around, waving his arms, putting too much enthusiasm into everything. He acted like he was always in front of an audience. it was a quality that reminded Vanko of Stark, only not quite as... awesome.
"Really been looking forward to meeting you!" The man looked at Vanko's cuffs and reacted like he'd been slapped. "Get those handcuffs off this man! What are we thinking here? This man is not an animal! Really, what's wrong with you?"
The guard stepped forward and unlocked the handcuffs. Vanko came forward and the man waved him into the opposite chair at the tables. A small army of servants appeared, and in the space of two seconds, silverware was laid out, as well as two kinds of glasses, one with wine, one with water, the candles were lit and two meals brought forward.
"I'm Justin Hammer, and you are my own personal hero. Welcome! Enjoy your meal; what do we have here Jack?"
"Salmon Carpaccio, sir." Jack placed a gourmet meal in front of Vanko, and an ice-cream sundae in front of Hammer.
"Ooh, that sounds nice." Hammer beamed. "Well, I hope you like Salmon. if not, try the caviar. Me, I prefer dessert. Flew this sundae in straight from San Francisco."
Ivan's father had taught him that there were three ways to find out the measure of a man. One was through adversity. Another by putting him in a strange situation. The third was by giving him an impossible task.
"I gotta tell ya, seeing what you did on that Racetrack, smashing around Tony Stark like that, in front of everybody. Mm. I won't forget that little show for a long time. You sure gave him something to think about."
Ivan had set for himself an impossible task, and succeeded. He had survived endless adversity. He was now in a situation beyond what he had experienced before. There was very little that rattled Vanko. He had been put through enough that nothing threw him off, but Vanko had to admit to being a little intimidated at the casual wealth being thrown around here. He had lived off stolen food for long enough...
"You really spoke to me; and somehow, I think you knew I was listening." Hammer said.
Vanko said nothing. The words were vindication. It was happening, just as he told Stark it would. The Sharks had come. What he wasn't sure of, was Hammer. Vanko's own plans would depend on what kind of man Hammer was. If he was as smart as he was extravagant, Vanko would have to pick his moment to run. If he could be played, Vanko's plan could go so much bigger.
"I couldn't leave you in a jail cell. Oh nonononono. Waste of talent. I said to myself: Here's a man who knows the score. I said to myself: You can't let this one get away. You remind me of me, Ivan. Can I call you Ivan? Ivan, I see a lot of myself in you." He paused to take a bite of his sundae. Vanko's food was untouched. "You and me? The only difference is that I have resources. So, what do you say? Come on board. You're know-how, my resources; we'll tear Tony Stark limb from limb; dance over his corpse a little; have ourselves some fun. I want to do more than just kill the guy; I want to destroy his legacy. I want Stark to be remembered as a joke and not a hero. You have the way to do that, but you need my resources. What do you say?"
Vanko still did not speak. Did not touch his food. While the picture Hammer painted was... more than pleasing, he had to figure this man out. He spoke in Russian. "If you cross me, I will stuff Stark's inside your dead body."
Hammer was still smiling, clearly not understanding. "I probably should have opened with this: Do you speak English? Because I can get an interpreter in here..."
Vanko grinned. First test down. "You, real good guy." He said in broken English, picking up the wineglass and toasting.
Hammer beamed. "Great! Jack, this is our guy!"
Vanko took a bite of his salmon. The first one he'd ever tasted. Second test: "I want my bird."
Hammer blinked. "I... I don't..."
"I want. My bird."
"Your bird?" Hammer asked carefully. "Are you talking about a bird back in Russia?"
The bird in question was a cockatoo. It belonged to somebody in the building who had long ago moved on. Vanko had kept it, mostly for the company while he worked on the whips. When he'd made it work, he tested the whip by slicing the bird in half mid-squawk.
It was an interesting test, to give this man who bragged endless resources a no-win scenario.
Whatever Hammer did, Vanko was confident. He was out of the cell, he had access to resources, even if not his own. If he could build a match for Iron Man in his basement with a box of scrap metal, what could he do to Stark after six months with this guy?
It would be a tricky tightrope though. If Hammer's frustration ever outweighed his greed, Vanko would have to be careful.
Work him up slowly. Ivan thought to himself. Take everything you need from him, but do it slice by slice so he won't realize how much he's given away.
"Yeah!" Hammer said quickly. "I can get you that bird back no problem. Whatever you need big guy!"
Vanko grinned wider and the two of them toasted each other.
AN: Okay, most of that was my own invention. I wanted to answer a few questions, give a little more motivation to some characters; and throw a bone to you rabid Pepperony shippers out there. I don't speak Russian, so I have no idea what Vanko said in the movie; so if I got that wrong, don't hate me.
All else, Read and Review.