This is Sfiery. Here, the Slavic nations are a superpower.


This is a land where Transia, Symkaria, Latveria, and Sokovia all meet. Belarus, Serbia, Latvia, and Tuzla also have stake in it. It's anywhere from hilly to mountainous, and covered in wintergreen taiga.

There's much in this land that needs developing. Too bad Stark International usually has better business far from it.

For now, a private aircraft flies high over it. It bears the logo of Stark International. There's a boy aboard it. One day, he will become the virtual pride of Stark International.

Still a teen, and now orphaned, Tony Stark loafs in a common room aboard his family's private jet. They wouldn't want him to have sake, or drink at all. But you know, being an orphan has its advantages.

Before him, the stewardesses have dressed like sluts. They dance for him, and sexually tempt him. He struggles to keep his hands out of his shorts.

Outside and far beneath the plane, more of the Slavic Union passes. It's still just as hilly and boreal-forested as ever...if not more...

Aboard the plane, a bell rings. The stewardesses take a break, and wander downstairs, onto the lower deck.

Tony knows their absence will be miserable. Nonetheless, he tosses the empty bottle of sake he was drinking, and nearly passes out.

Still in midair, the bottle mysteriously vanishes...into a passing cloud of Darkforce magic. Someone made that bottle go away...and up until now, they were not aboard this plane.

As Tony sleeps, a girl in a black miniskirt stands before him. She spreads her thighs. She'd have a nicer ass, if it wasn't so weak...

From her black pump, she removes her Italian-white foot. It's polished, of course. She raises it, lowers it towards Tony's groin, and plays footsie with his favorite appendages.

In an instant, Tony wakes. He flips forth, and hurls.

A cloud of Darkforce magic absorbs his vomit before it can hit the deck. It vanishes, when it's collected the last of it.

Tony looks around, with bloodshot eyes. An Italian girl, a mafia princess of the Maggia, sits next to him, and caresses his body. She's SO feminine, and SO gentle...in the moment. She conjures a rag, and wipes down his face. As she tosses the rag, it vanishes into yet another cloud of Darkforce magic.

She kisses both of his cheeks. "Hi, Tony," she croons. "How I've missed you..."

Meet Giuletta Nefaria. Against the wills of Tony's parents, she and Tony have been on many dangerous adventures together. Her parents really like Tony; the same could not be said about Tony's parents and G. Alas, at times, Tony can't tell if he likes the way her parents like him...as hot as he still thinks her stepmother is...

"G," Tony greets her. "Didn't know you were aboard."

"I am omnipresent, Tony." She kisses him again. "I am Maggia. Isolation is not my style...unless, of course, it is isolation from the government."

"Of course. We can't afford to tolerate too many of those pompous bastards, can we? I still can't believe Dad liked them so much. They're just a bunch of Iron Men with sticks up their asses."

"Ah, you're such a perfect catch, Tony." She wipes his face with her raven Italian hair. "You'd be surprised how hard it is to find a millionaire playboy with a soft spot in his heart for the little man."

"I am a little man."

"I know you must think that about yourself, but..." She wipes his own black hair down. "You will ALWAYS be some little girl's titan. And with luck, you won't try to swallow all of your children whole one day...like Cronus once tried to do to Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon...to name a few..."

Tony scoffs. "You confuse me a lot, G. But then... I will never have any idea how lucky I am to have you."

"Mm... No." She squeezes his cheek, and slaps it. "No you won't. But then, I don't need you to." She takes his shirt off for him. He's got a nice body, despite still being a teen. "I just need you to keep being the left brain of this op of ours...so that I can go on being the right."

"Again with the confusion... But then, who am I to question everything I hear? We can't all afford to be nit-picky, after all..."


Outside, below, and ahead...certain parties prepare for war. The SU isn't even at war with anyone. Even so, the Starks make their millions selling weapons. And Howard, Tony's father, began the tradition of not giving a damn who the weapons were sold to, as long as they could afford them.

At a small fort on the ground, surrounded by taiga-covered mountains, that's about to come back to haunt the Stark family...and many others. Most will have Slavic surnames. Too bad Tony doesn't speak Russian. He won't likely ever start, either. It's often said that geniuses make the worst language students.

This is a Stark antiaircraft missile launcher. From a distance, it doesn't look like much. But it packs quite the punch. But of course, it was designed by a man who always used to say, "the definition of peace is having a bigger stick than your neighbor."

Alas, in life, Howard knew more about selling sticks than he did about using them. This often came back to bite him. If not for big friends he somehow had...most of them in lower places than him...he would've died younger than he did...and without leaving Tony as his legacy, in most cases.

Remotely, the missile is triggered. It launches. It aims high, and it seeks its target. It already knows where it is. Tony would know. He helped design this one.

He just...never imagined that he, one day, would ever become the target of one of his own weapons...


Back aboard Stark One, G smiles, kisses Tony one last time, and teleports away, via Darkforce magic. Tony doesn't notice. The poor fool still hasn't figured out that his pretty little friend from the Maggia is a dark witch.

Soon, a force field of Darkforce magic surrounds Tony. He'll thank its conjurer for this later...

From below, the missile flies. It comes up right behind Stark One, chases it for a while, interacts with its thrusters, and explodes...causing the engines to explode at the same time.

All around Tony, Stark One rips apart. Tony's too drunk, apathetic, and irresponsible to notice.

His beer gut vanishes. Slowly, the force field he's trapped in lowers itself. Slowly, it begins to shrivel in size...with Tony still inside it...

Aloft, Stark One continues to fall apart, literally. By now, whoever ordered that airstrike is a very happy man.

Without luck, he's happier than Howard ever was with any whore he ever had...Stark-employed or otherwise. He sure saw a lot of Japanese chicks from Fujikawa International in his time...