Hey! So sorry for not updating! But at least, here's the next chapter, and I hope you enjoy it!

I couldn't have known how much time had passed. It felt like a lifetime—longer than any boring history class I'd had to sit through (in boarding school or in my current one.) The two guards flanked me imposingly for a while, then they merely sat down and started playing games on their phones.

I focused on a spot on the floor and let the time slip by. Focus. Calm down. Remember, the MK 42 is with Harley right now, getting charged up…in no time it's gonna came crashing through the windows and we'll make a great escape. Just imagine the look on everybody's face! There'll be a big crash, mechanical whirring, lots of yelling…I hope I can hear it from all the way—

SMASH!

"What the hell?" gasped one guy, jerking to an upright position. The two of them pulled out their guns. They looked at me.

I shrugged. "Not doing anything."

SMASH! Outside I tried to remain calm, but inside my heart was racing. Aww, yeah. Here it comes, motherfuckers.

SMASH! CRASH! BANG! THUD! VRRRRRRRMMM-FZWOOM! FZOOM!

That sounded like a repulsor blast!

A voice called out over a loudspeaker: "All personnel, Stark is loose and somewhere in the compound. Repeat: Stark is loose and somewhere in the compound."

"Ha ha!" I couldn't help but say, jeering at my captors. "Oh man, you guys are gonna be in SO MUCH TROUBLE when my uncle gets here!"

CRASH.

The door to the left entrance of the parlor was blown open in a storm of smoking wood chips. One repulsor blast took out the one to my left first. The guy shot a couple of rounds before getting blasted too. He tumbled at my feet as the smoke and dust cleared, revealing the MK 42 armor, with the helmet up to show my uncle's familiar, relieved face.

The moment was too good to waste.

"What, did Iron Man get captured and zip-tied too?" I quipped.

He beamed. "Yeah, you're definitely all right." He pulled off my binds with his metal fingers and I jumped up and wrapped my arms around him. "Did they hurt you?"

"Oh, you know me," I said, "I'm invincible."

"Okay—that's enough. Now we gotta get upstairs." He didn't pull me off or set me down, though. He lifted me up under my legs and strode out of the parlor, carrying me with one arm while I hung onto his shoulders. "I'm guessing Killian did that?" he said, nodding to my suit, still on the floor.

I frowned. "Yeah, how'd you guess?"

"I recognized your flight inducers strapped to the Iron Patriot as it flew out of the compound."

"Wait, what?" I said. "The Patriot's here? What for?"

"I'll explain it later."

"There's something you have to know," I said urgently as he started walking. "Maya's working for—"

"I know, Iz," Tony said with a steely tone. "She's dead."

"What?" I gripped his shoulder. "How?"

"Killian shot her, point blank, in front of me."

I wasn't sure how to feel after being mad at her for such a long time—Maya was gone, and maybe she took an explanation and every chance of redemption with her.

"Why did he do that?"

"To prove a point. To get to me," Tony replied.

"We have to finish this then," I said, with renewed conviction. "For her."

He nodded. "We will, I promise."

"Please tell me you at least found the Mandarin," I said.

Tony pulled a face. "Well, I did. Sort of."

"You found a decoy?" I guessed.

"I wish," he said as he mounted the stairs.

We arrived at a common room on the top floor where we saw 1. A man with a ratty beard dressed in a bathrobe asleep on an armchair and 2. Two guards with their guns out.

"The room is secure; I have eyes on the Mandarin," one guard said into a sat-phone.

"What's this?" Tony interrupted. "I thought I had winners."

Just as I was sure the guys were going to turn their guns on us, there was another surprise.

SMASH! Again! And this time the plate-glass window shattered as a familiar figured hurtled through them and gunned both guys down in an instant. The man on the armchair woke suddenly, and our savior straightened, dusted himself off and smiled at me.

"Hey, Isabella."

"Rhodey?" I said. "Rhodey! You're here?" Of course! Tony had mentioned the Iron Patriot. Obviously, wherever a suit was, its rightful pilot would never be far away. I grinned.

"Long story," he said, before lunging to the man on the armchair and threatening him with the gun.

"Wh-what've you come as?" stammered the man. I blinked. He looked familiar…

"You make a move and I'll break your face," said Rhodey aggressively. Tony put me down, and we both advanced toward them.

"I never thought people had been hurt…they lied to me!" the man continued to stammer. I got a good view of his face, and suddenly it clicked.

"This is the Mandarin?!" Rhodey and I said in unison—both in disgust and disappointment.

"I know," said Tony grimly, "it's…embarrassing."

"Seriously?" I said. "I was so looking forward to kicking this guy's ass!"

"Hi, Trevor…Trevor Slattery," said the so-called Mandarin, holding his hand out to Rhodey like a senile, stoned long-lost relative.

Rhodey's response was to slap the guy's hand away.

"I know, I'm shorter in person, bit small, everyone says that. But, um...hey, if you're here to arrest me, uh...there are some people who I'd like to roll on. Immediately."

I rolled my eyes and walked off a little way. This was humiliating and disappointing. Killian had been right; it was much worse than I imagined. He had never latched himself onto a terrorist; he'd created one out of smoke, mirrors and a billion bucks.

Looking at Trevor now, I couldn't believe we'd bought the whole ruse.

"Do you know what they did to my suit?" Rhodey demanded.

"What?" Trevor looked stunned. "No. But I do know what's happening off the coast. Something to do with…uh, a big boat. I can take you there. OOOOOH! OLE, OLE OLE OLE—"

We all glanced at the TV screen, which was showing a triumphant win for the Spanish soccer team.

"Tony, I swear to God, I'm gonna blow his face off," said Rhodey, frustrated.

"This should stop." I found the remote and switched off the TV. Trevor looked up at me, bewildered.

"Focus, man," I said, snapping my fingers. "What else? What else do you know?"

"Oh, this next bit may include the Vice President as well. Is that...is that important?"

"Somewhat," said Tony. "Yeah, a little bit." Rhodey said, and the three of us retreated to one side to confer.

"So?" Tony said.

"Can we trust him? He's higher than the Empire State, Tony," I pointed out. "If I was that high, I wouldn't know which way was down; let alone the direction of whatever boat they've got Pepper on."

"It's our best shot. Our only shot," he said. "And you'd be surprised what people can manage when they're high. Or wasted." "What are we gonna do?" Rhodey said, ever the practical one. "I mean, we don't have any transport." Tony turned to Trevor. "Hey, Ringo. Didn't you say something about a 'lovely speedboat'?"