Author's Note: I know in canon Iron Man 2 actually took place in a much shorter time (I've seen less than a year from one source and two years from another) after Iron Man 1. But given the timeline of Slayer Begins and Slayer Begins 2 it was necessary to spread out the time between the first movie and this one.
Side Note: Unlike the first story in this series it is possible that Slayer Begins 2 and Slayer Begins 3 will wind up being duologies instead of trilogies. Slayer Begins 1 was the Nolan Batman Trilogy. Slayer Begins 2 was to be Thor, Avengers and Thor: Dark World. And Slayer Begins 3 was supposed to be Iron Man trilogy. The problem with Slayer Begins 2 and 3 is that there is no completed novelizations of either Iron Man 3 or Thor: Dark World to use as reference material (After Iron Man 2, Disney stopped publishing adult MCU novelizations and Junior novelizations only cover half the film) and there is no screenplays of either online and the transcripts that are online aren't the best. So, I may end Slayer Begins 2 with Avengers and Slayer Begins 3 with Iron Man 2.
Chapter 11: Four Years Later
April 20, 2010 – Tuesday
C-17, Mobile Iron Man and Ironheart HQ
The C-17 loomed like a colossal titan against the sky, its massive form exuding an aura of indomitable power. Twenty-four yards long, four stories tall, it weighed a staggering 140 tons when empty, capable of shouldering an additional payload of eighty-five tons without breaking a sweat. This formidable aircraft had been meticulously designed to fulfill a myriad of roles. Whether it was delivering over a hundred paratroopers to a distant drop zone within its impressive operational range of 2,800 miles or providing aerial armored support, the C-17 was a testament to human engineering.
But today, it wore a different cloak of purpose. Within its cavernous cargo hold lay a cutting-edge mobile laboratory, equipped with all the necessary command-and-control systems to maintain and repair the Mark IV armor in the field. It was here that Jarvis, Tony Stark's loyal artificial intelligence, found a new home. Transforming the aircraft into something akin to a drone, Jarvis took the reins of the vastly improved autopilot system, ready to assist Tony and Faith from above.
Within this high-tech sanctuary, a bank of computers stood as Willow's station. Her role was crucial, providing essential computer support and harnessing the power of ISC satellites to monitor Tony and Faith as they soared through the skies in their suits. She was the digital guardian, ensuring that the heroes had every advantage.
As the C-17 approached its designated drop zone, every tremor and turbulence coursed through Tony's armored frame, jolting his senses. The gut-wrenching sensations threatened to overwhelm him, and he found himself hunched over the toilet bowl, his gauntleted hands gripping the sides for dear life. The nausea was relentless, and Tony groaned in agony, his body betraying him.
In the midst of his suffering, Pepper's voice cut through the air, its tone devoid of sympathy, but laced with unwavering determination. It echoed within the confines of the aircraft, pushing Tony to his limits. "Get up," she commanded, a beacon of resolve in the face of adversity.
Tony's voice wavered as he spoke into the toilet bowl, his words a desperate plea. "I can't go through with it," he admitted, his vulnerability laid bare.
But it was Faith, his daughter and partner, who provided the unwavering support he needed. She refused to let him succumb to his doubts and physical distress. With a firm grip, she pulled him to his feet, guiding him out of the bathroom and towards the staging area, where Iron Man and Ironheart's headquarters awaited.
"Dad, I need my partner. I need Iron Man," Faith's words resonated with urgency, a reminder of their duty and the world that depended on their heroism.
Willow sat at her bank of computers, her eyes fixed on the screens as the C-17 made its final approach, descending low and slow. The powerful aircraft began to sway and buck as it navigated the swirling winds that swept down the Hudson River.
Amidst the tension of the impending mission, Tony couldn't help but inject a bit of humor into the situation. His voice quivered as he asked, "Do I look weird to any of you?" It was a momentary distraction, a way to cope with the mounting pressure.
Pepper, however, remained resolute and focused. She didn't have time for Tony's antics, and her response was swift and to the point. "We don't have time for this," she asserted, determined to keep the mission on track.
Tony, ever the provocateur, couldn't resist baiting Pepper. A mischievous grin crept across his face as he needled her. "It unnerves me to think that this is how you'd react in a crisis," he quipped. Surprisingly, his stomach seemed to settle a bit, as if the banter had a soothing effect.
Pepper, mindful of their roles and the need to maintain professionalism, played along with the program they had established. She couldn't afford to open a can of worms, not now. So, she retorted with a touch of sarcasm, "It's how I react to hangovers. Vodka and Red Bull are hardly a crisis." Her words held a hint of playful exasperation, a familiar dynamic between the two.
Willow, too, chimed in, pivoting her seat to face Tony and Faith. She and Pepper swiftly donned their headsets, ready for the task at hand. "She's right, Tony," Willow affirmed, her tone businesslike. "You guys ready?"
"Turn down the flame on the flamethrower and get me some Advil," Tony said, a trace of contrition in his voice as he acknowledged his earlier antics.
Pepper, though not entirely ready to let him off the hook, couldn't help but engage in the playful exchange. She retorted, "I have Motrin," her words suggesting that she was willing to meet him halfway in their banter.
But Tony, never one to back down easily, continued with a sly grin, "There is something wrong—" He was about to voice his complaint, but before he could finish, Faith interjected with a quip of her own, refusing to let her father off the hook so easily.
"Nothing has ever been 'right' with you, Dad," Faith quipped, her words laced with affectionate exasperation.
Tony, undeterred by his daughter's comment, persisted, focusing on the earlier exchange about pain relief. In his own unique way, he offered his perspective, which was laden with a touch of old-school thinking. "About offering a man a Motrin," he continued, seemingly oblivious to Faith's interruption. As far as he was concerned, Motrin was something associated with women's health.
Pepper, now fully engaged in the back-and-forth, couldn't resist setting the record straight. Her voice carried a hint of mock frustration as she corrected Tony, "It's a brand name. They're both ibuprofen!"
"We don't have time for this," Tony groaned, suddenly acting as if he hadn't started the entire playful exchange. "Abort mission!" he declared dramatically, adding a touch of theatrics.
Faith, however, wasn't about to let her father off the hook. She retorted with a teasing tone, "You're being a baby, Dad."
In his characteristic fashion, Tony fired back with a quip of his own, his humor returning. "My inner child heard that," he replied, not missing a beat.
Pepper, who had inadvertently escalated the banter earlier, found herself drawn back into the fray. With a mix of frustration and amusement, she blurted out, "Your inner child needs a good spanking," immediately regretting her choice of words.
Tony, never one to let an opportunity for humor pass him by, seized it with relish. A smirk crossed his face, the first genuine sign of life he had shown all day. "That's just going to make him horny," he quipped mischievously.
The three women - Pepper, Faith, and Willow - were left with no choice but to respond in unison, a synchronized chorus of exasperation. "Shut up," they said in perfect harmony, their voices blending in a moment of shared frustration and amusement.
Willow established a channel to communicate with Jarvis. She was well aware that Jarvis, with his AI sensibilities, likely had to restrain himself from making a multitude of sarcastic comments in response to the banter. But now, the focus was on the mission at hand, and Jarvis was all business.
"Approaching longitudinal coordinates," Jarvis announced through her headset. "T-minus five seconds."
Tony, never one to pass up an opportunity to make a humorous comment, interjected with an unexpected request. "I want an omelet," he complained, seemingly unfazed by the impending mission.
Pepper, in her characteristic no-nonsense style, swiftly turned and thrust the Iron Man helmet toward Tony, a visual reminder of the gravity of the situation. Meanwhile, Willow approached her girlfriend with the Ironheart helmet in hand. With a brief yet meaningful kiss, she conveyed her hopes for a safe and successful mission.
"The ground team is in place," Willow reported, her voice steady and determined as she stepped back from Faith. "You both need to go now."
Jarvis, maintaining his professionalism, continued to provide essential information. "Arriving at drop zone," he stated, his AI mind calculating every detail of the mission.
As Tony and Faith prepared to don their helmets, Tony left his faceplate open, his irreverent humor still intact even in the face of imminent action. He turned to Pepper and Willow, their expressions bemused by his request.
"Do you two have any crackers?" he asked, his tone oddly casual given the circumstances.
Pepper and Willow exchanged glances, and Willow, with deliberate efficiency, tapped a touchscreen. The C-17's massive cargo bay door groaned open, the sheer force of the plane's slipstream nearly deafening Pepper and Willow through their headsets.
The C-17 banked sharply to its left, navigating around the edge of the drop zone. The night was ablaze with light from below, and searchlights pierced the sky around the aircraft. Amidst the tumultuous roar, the distant thumps and rumbles of ground explosions echoed ominously.
In the midst of this chaos, Tony's voice rang out urgently. "Pepper!" he yelled, his tone uncharacteristically earnest. "I know I can be selfish sometimes, and… I know I don't say it nearly enough, but…" He winked, trying to inject a bit of levity into the tense moment. "How's my hair?"
Pepper, accustomed to Tony's quips, rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You've said that before!" she replied, her voice carrying a hint of fond irritation.
Tony, however, pressed on, determined to make his point. "I know, but this time I mean it!"
In the midst of the chaos and camaraderie, Pepper couldn't help but respond to Tony's lighthearted banter in her own unique way. She spat in the palm of her hand and playfully slapped him on the side of the helmet. "Great!" she shouted, her tone a mix of exasperation and affection.
Tony, always quick with a compliment, couldn't resist noticing Pepper's attire, even in the midst of their mission preparations. "I like your heels!" he remarked, pointing at Pepper's high heels. "You should wear those more—"
Faith, eager to keep the momentum of the mission going, interrupted her father's compliment with an impatient plea. "Come on, Dad!" she urged, urging him to focus on the task at hand.
Tony, however, couldn't resist one more quip, delivered with surprising sincerity. He drew himself upright, his tone solemn as he addressed Pepper. "You complete me," he told her, his words carrying a sense of gratitude and connection.
Faith, too, expressed her bond with Willow in her own way. "Same for you, with me, Will," she said, her voice filled with trust and determination. With that, they both closed their faceplates, spread their arms, and tipped backward out of the plane into the rushing void.
Flushing Meadows, Queens, New York
The crowd at the Stark Expo had already been treated to a spectacle. Dancing girls donned Victoria's Secret-inspired versions of the Mark III Iron Man and Ironheart suits, wowing the audience with their moves. They had watched an adrenaline-pumping montage of Iron Man and Ironheart's greatest hits: an aerial tango amidst a hail of shoulder-fired missiles, a lightning-fast raid on a pirate ship off the Horn of Africa, and a daring head-on collision with an air-to-air missile whose explosion, amplified by the Expo's sound system, had rattled nearby seismometers. The audience was electrified, ready for what came next.
As Iron Man and Ironheart descended from the sky, executing flawless somersaults in unison before landing with their arms thrust high like circus ringmasters, the crowd erupted in a frenzy of applause and cheers. Tony and Faith glanced down and saw that they had hit their marks almost perfectly, a minor adjustment of one foot bringing them precisely onto the automated gantry, a glitzy version of the one in their Malibu lab.
With the cheering still reverberating around them, they initiated the gantry and gave the crowd one final spectacle. Robot arms, adorned with extra lights for a touch of showmanship, emerged from the stage and created a framework around Tony and Faith. These arms unlocked the invisible joints on the Mark IV suits and lifted them away from their bodies. In the crowd's perspective, it appeared as though Iron Man and Ironheart had been disassembled, replaced by a tuxedo-clad Tony and an evening gown-clad Faith. The transformation took only a few seconds, and then the gantry and all the pieces of the suits vanished back into the stage floor, leaving no trace of their presence except for the small piece of thermal tape Tony and Faith had used as a reference point.
"It's good to be back!" Tony called out over the deafening tumult of applause and cheers, his words resonating through the Expo.
The applause swelled, the crowd showering the father-daughter duo with adoration. They held their arms out, soaking in the moment. When it began to feel almost self-indulgent, they allowed it to continue for a little while longer. Finally, Tony signaled for calm and began to pace on the stage, a mix of excitement and anticipation in the air as they prepared to address the enthralled audience.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Tony began, his voice carrying a sense of gravitas and history. "Decades ago, my father and Faith's grandfather, Howard Stark, began a grand tradition. Every ten years, he would level the playing field for inventors by building a city. An idealized city. A city of the future. An Expo where for five glorious months, scientists, world leaders, and corporate CEOs could come together to pursue one goal. The goal of advancing mankind."
As Tony spoke, the Jumbotron above the crowd came to life, displaying footage of the first Expo. The camera panned across visions of the future, ranging from the whimsical—"Your Children's Flying Car Is Here Today!" drew a laugh from the audience—to the pragmatic, all set against the iconic backdrop of the New York City skyline.
The video showcased crowds wandering from demonstration to demonstration, exploring everything from robot vacuum cleaners to proposals for mining helium-3 from the moon as a potential power source for fusion reactors. It was a testament to the Expo's legacy as a place where the impossible became possible, where innovative ideas were unleashed.
Faith chimed in with her perspective, emphasizing the Expo's significance. "A place to do the impossible," she said, her voice carrying the weight of her family's legacy. "A place to unleash ideas."
The Jumbotron then featured Howard Stark himself, captured in his workshop circa 1970. He spoke across the years, his words a timeless reminder of the Expo's mission. "Everything is achievable through technology," Howard Stark declared with conviction. "Better living, robust health, and for the first time in human history, the possibility of world peace!" His nervous smile betrayed his excitement as he showcased a scale model of that first Expo. The crowd's applause swelled in response to his speech.
Tony picked up where his father left off, announcing a new challenge. "Today, Faith and I are issuing a challenge. A challenge for anyone, any country, any company to prove their value. A chance to put up their best ideas, their best inventions… their best foot forward, in the hopes of leaving the world a better place than the one we came into."
With a graceful bow and flourish, Tony and Faith headed for the stage exit, leaving the audience with a sense of anticipation and possibility. "That's all we've got for now," Faith announced, her voice filled with optimism. "Have a good time!" As the lights dimmed and the music resumed, the crowd erupted once again. The Stark Expo, bigger and better than ever, was officially underway, continuing its legacy of innovation and inspiration.
Vanko Home, Nikolayevka, Russia
The Russian newscaster's voice droned on, narrating the highlights of the Stark Expo's first day. It was a spectacle of dancing girls, flashing lights, and pounding music, an event that seemed anything but a scientific exposition.
Ivan Vanko, however, watched the broadcast with a heavy heart. Over the announcer's voice, he could hear the constant hiss and drip of the medical equipment that was keeping his father alive. The old man was in the final stages of his life, and Ivan knew that the hiss and drip wouldn't change that fact. But at least it could provide some comfort to his father in his final moments.
Ivan had learned of his father's illness during the last year of his most recent prison term. Prison authorities had granted him an early release because the hospital was sending Anton home to die. So, Ivan found himself on a deathwatch in these dingy rooms, absorbing the true stories of his father's work and the crimes of Tony and Faith. He soaked up as much of his father's knowledge as he could during the moments when the old man was strong enough to talk and teach him. He pored over old records, plans, notebooks, and scattered sheets of paper covered in diagrams and equations. Soon, the deathwatch would come to an end, and Anton Vanko would be gone. When that happened, Ivan had resolved to create a memorial to his father's stolen legacy. Plans for that memorial included Tony and Faith, who, in the very near future, would not be basking in the limelight but would instead be facing their demise.
Ivan finished warming a bowl of cabbage soup on a hot plate and brought it carefully to his father's bedside. Anton was also watching the television, his frail form overshadowed by the larger-than-life images of Tony and Faith on the screen. "That should be you, Ivan," Anton whispered, his voice a mere shadow of its former self. "That should be me and you."
Ivan patted his father's hand gently and settled down beside him. "Don't get too worked up, Papa," he reassured him.
They sat together, sharing the simple meal and watching Tony and Faith as they executed their carefully choreographed moves on the stage. The announcers spoke with breathless excitement about the Stark Expo and the wonders it promised to deliver to the world.
Ivan returned to his worktable, flipping through his father's papers with a sense of purpose and determination. There was a vast wealth of knowledge to be gained from Anton's work, and Ivan was determined to uncover every piece of it.
Anton, lying in his bed, could only offer his son his knowledge and apologies for the legacy he was leaving behind. "I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret. "All I can give you is my knowledge."
Ivan continued to sift through boxes of his father's papers until he came across a cardboard tube. The label on it bore the English words "Stark Industries." It was a moment of reckoning, the time for Ivan to claim his heritage and reveal the bitter truth to Tony and Faith about their own.
As Ivan contemplated the possible causes of his father's death—whether it was scientific work conducted in an era when the dangers of materials were not fully understood or the result of decades of neglect, anonymity, and righteous jealousy—he understood the distinction between understanding a cause and assigning blame.
Regardless of the medical cause of his father's death, blame could be squarely placed on the shoulders of Howard, Tony, and Faith Stark. The proof was in the tube he held, and in the knowledge his father had meticulously created and documented.
Ivan carefully turned with the tube in his hand, the old metal stopper coming off with a faint, nostalgic pop. He tilted the tube and gave it a shake, causing a sheaf of blueprints to spill into his hand. These blueprints, the culmination of his father's life's work, would become Ivan's legacy.
Anton Vanko had once traveled the world, a brilliant mind seeking recognition and success. But in his old age, he had returned to Moscow, poor and forgotten. Now, it was Ivan's duty to carry forward his father's knowledge and inventions, to claim the recognition that the Vanko name rightfully deserved.
While Tony and Faith were celebrated on television and graced the covers of magazines, Anton Vanko and his son Ivan lived in a humble two-room flat, enduring the harshness of a life overshadowed by cold water and endless stretches of snow-swept concrete outside. They faced the constant threat of gangs that roamed the area, yet these gangs left Ivan alone, for they could read his tattoos and knew that there were easier prey elsewhere.
It was a bitter reality that nobody would believe that within the confines of this modest apartment resided two of the greatest geniuses of the twentieth century. The world remained ignorant because the true story had been suppressed and obscured, hidden away by those who sought to maintain their power and reputation. Anton Vanko was dying anonymously, despite the debt owed to him by Howard Stark and the Stark family.
These injustices could not stand. Ivan was determined to avenge his father and ensure that the true story of their brilliance and contributions to science would be told.
The wall above Ivan's worktable served as a stark reminder of the stark contrast between his own existence and the worldwide fame and recognition that Tony and Faith enjoyed. Clippings from various media outlets covered the wall, featuring images of Tony and Faith posing in their Iron Man and Ironheart suits, caught in the act of heroism during an inflight crisis, or accompanying profiles of Stark Industries' new direction post-weapons manufacturing. The headlines declared in multiple languages: "I AM IRON MAN AND IRONHEART." Tony and Faith smirked down at Ivan from the clippings, their faces plastered across the wall as symbols of global adoration and achievement.
Ivan placed the tube containing the blueprints on his worktable and began to examine the intricate designs. He was about to ask his father a question when the medical machines emitted a prolonged, ominous warning beep. Ivan turned sharply, his eyes fixing on the heart monitor, which displayed a flatline. His heart sank, and he dropped the blueprints as the machine continued its futile alarm. He rushed to his father's bedside, his hand trembling as he touched Anton Vanko's pale face and leaned down to listen for a heartbeat. The room was filled with the cacophony of medical machines, making it difficult to discern any signs of life. Anton Vanko's heart had been so weak that its beat was almost imperceptible even to touch. Ivan took a spoon from his father's bowl of soup and held it near Anton's nose, hoping to detect any signs of vapor. But there was none. Anton Vanko was no longer breathing.
Ivan nodded in grim acceptance, setting the spoon aside. For a few moments, the room was filled only with the relentless warning beep of the medical machines and the squawking of Irina, the cockatoo, perched near the window. Anton had been on the brink of death for a considerable time, and Ivan had prepared himself for this moment. He felt strangely devoid of grief at the present instant.
With a deliberate demeanor, Ivan unplugged all the medical machines, surveying them briefly. They might serve as valuable parts in the future, depending on the progress of his work. Returning to the worktable, he spread out the blueprints beneath the lamplight. The words "ARC REACTOR" in English on the blueprints filled him with a renewed sense of purpose, a determination to honor his father's legacy and seek justice for their family's plight.
Flushing Meadows, Queens, New York
The chauffeur, trainer, and all-around confidant, Happy Hogan, was waiting for Tony and Faith as they stepped offstage. His eager face showed concern and curiosity. "How'd it go?" Happy asked, eager for their assessment.
Tony offered a nonchalant shrug. "We've done better."
With Happy leading the way, he guided them through the maze of backstage areas toward the meeting and media zone. Amid the sea of hangers-on and well-wishers, a few genuine innovators stood out. Tony and Faith spotted software pioneer Larry Ellison, who greeted them with an open hand. "Great speech," Larry praised.
Tony and Faith reciprocated with the high five Larry desired and managed to summon smiles for the flashing cameras. They paused to sign replica Iron Man and Ironheart masks for an enthusiastic young fan and autographed a few other items before exchanging a quick glance when a group of college-aged women surrounded them, all eager for photos.
"Not now, ladies," Happy interjected, his protective instinct kicking in. He promptly guided Tony and Faith down the corridor, ushering them toward the backstage doors as they left the excited crowd behind.
Faith couldn't help but release a sigh of mild frustration. In the four years since she and her father had revealed their identities as Iron Man and Ironheart, her relationship with Willow had been widely covered by reporters and photographers. The world was well aware of her romantic connection with Willow. "I wish all those girls would remember I'm taken," she remarked with a hint of amusement and exasperation, voicing her desire for a little more privacy in her personal life amidst the constant public scrutiny.
"You're a Stark," Tony reminded his daughter with a wry smile. "Or have you forgotten that before our reunion, I was seen more as a playboy than I am nowadays." He glanced toward Happy, signaling their need to leave the bustling backstage area. "Let's get out of here," he suggested, eager to put some distance between them and the crowds.
Happy, who had been observing Tony closely and seeing him falter, couldn't help but voice his concern. "You okay, man?"
Tony, ever the master of deflection, responded with his usual bravado. "Aces," he assured them.
Faith, however, was not easily fooled. She rolled her eyes, knowing there was more to her father's condition than just a hangover. "Dad's got a hangover, Happy," she chimed in, though she was well aware of the deeper issue at play. She had noticed the unsettling discolorations around the arc reactor housing in Tony's chest, the strange tendrils of sickly purple radiating from it. Her father had always insisted they didn't hurt, but Faith couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong. She might not be a doctor, but she was certain that those ominous purple lines were not supposed to appear under anyone's skin.
Happy pushed the backstage door open, allowing a fresh wave of shouts and camera flashes to wash over Tony and Faith. They seamlessly transitioned into their public personas, playing to the adoring crowd as they made their way toward the waiting car. Tony, with his camera-ready grin, couldn't resist a quip to Happy, "This is the secret exit, right?"
Happy's response was to activate the remote that opened the roof of Tony's latest favorite vehicle, an Audi R8 Spyder.
Tony attempted to seize the key from Happy, asserting, "I'm driving."
However, Faith was quick to intervene, swiftly snatching the key from her father's grasp. "No, you're not, Dad," she declared firmly.
As Tony reluctantly settled into the passenger's seat, a striking brunette suddenly appeared next to the Audi Spyder. "Tony," she addressed him with familiarity.
Tony, ever the charmer, responded with a jovial tone despite his bewilderment. "There you are!" he exclaimed, though he had no recollection of who she was or how she had managed to breach the security perimeter. "I've been looking for you!"
Faith couldn't resist a playful jab as she rolled her eyes at her father. "So, the playboy days are done?" she quipped, well aware that Tony's reputation as a ladies' man had persisted for years.
The woman, who had approached them in a manner that defied the typical groupie wannabe behavior, introduced herself politely. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. and Ms. Stark," she said, catching Tony and Faith off guard with her straightforward and honest approach. Her demeanor utterly destabilized their usual protocols, defenses, and strategies when it came to encounters with strangers, particularly women.
"Meet us?" Faith echoed, exchanging a puzzled look with her father.
Tony, always the charismatic host, nodded and decided to play along. "Wait, I'm sorry... we don't know each other?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow. "That ends now. Let's start with names, Miss...?"
"Marshal," she supplied.
Tony nodded, still maintaining his charismatic persona. However, he couldn't help but wonder how this woman had managed to approach them so easily. They should have had security personnel in place to prevent such interactions with strangers.
"Irish. I get it. Tempers and depression," Tony quipped in response to Miss Marshal's introduction. His tendency to find humor even in unexpected situations was unmistakable. "Promise me you won't get sad when we fight. On to first names. I'm Tony, and this is Faith, Ms. Marshal, and you are..."
"U.S.," she replied with a smirk, promptly slapping an envelope onto Tony's chest.
Tony didn't physically reach for the envelope, but the moment it made contact with his person, it was clear that he had been served. "Uh-oh," he muttered with a playful grin.
Miss Marshal didn't linger, tossing another envelope to Faith before turning to leave. Tony couldn't resist calling after her, his curiosity piqued. "Who put you up to this? Senator Dodd? Boehner?" His enemies came from all sides of the political spectrum, and he couldn't help but wonder who had orchestrated this move. "And using you!" he added, his admiration evident as she walked away. "That was a nice touch. Big style points there."
Turning his attention to Happy, who was reviewing Faith's subpoena in the backseat, Tony asked, "Do we have to do that?"
Happy looked up with a smug grin, crumpling Faith's subpoena and tossing it aside. "This?" he asked. "Yeah, I think you both do."
The Ravel Hotel
Faith nestled comfortably next to Willow in their hotel room, the weight of the impending commitment with the Senate Armed Services Committee weighing on her mind. "Nine tomorrow morning in Washington," she murmured to her girlfriend, a hint of anticipation in her voice. "I almost bet you that I know what this is over. Our suits."
Willow, ever the supportive partner, couldn't help but offer a reassuring smile. "You think they're going to grill you about Ironheart technology?"
Faith nodded. "Yeah, and probably Dad about the Iron Man suits. You know how politicians can get when they think they need to control things."
Willow brushed a strand of hair from Faith's face and leaned in for a comforting kiss. "You've got this, baye. We'll handle it together."
Faith returned the kiss, finding solace in Willow's presence. "Thanks, Will. We make a great team, on and off the battlefield."
Willow's smile grew warmer, her eyes filled with affection. "We really do, Faith. No matter what they throw at us tomorrow, we'll face it together."
Faith couldn't help but feel grateful for Willow's unwavering support. She traced her fingers along the contours of Willow's cheek, savoring the moment of intimacy. "You're my rock, you know that? I can handle anything as long as you're by my side."
Willow's gaze held a tenderness that spoke volumes. "And you're my Ironheart, always courageous and unstoppable. We've got this."
As Faith and Willow basked in their intimate moment, the phone's unexpected ring interrupted their quiet evening. Faith reached over to answer it, her curiosity piqued. "Hello?" she said, her tone holding a touch of surprise.
"Faith," came Tony's voice from the other end.
"Dad?" Faith responded, her concern evident in her voice.
"Is Willow with you, or is she still with Pepper?" Tony inquired.
"She's here, Dad, why?" Faith questioned, exchanging a glance with Willow.
"I'm working on our Mark IV," Tony explained. "I wanted to go over some stuff with her."
Faith let out a sigh, realizing that their quiet evening was about to be interrupted. "Okay, Dad, we'll be over in a second," she confirmed before hanging up the phone. She then turned to Willow. "Dad wants to see you about the suits. I think he's tinkering with them."
Willow nodded, understanding the importance of their work. "Of course. Let's go see what he needs."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Tony sat in his hotel room, finding solace in tinkering with the Mark IV suit's components. The Mark IV had undergone significant design innovations, featuring nonmetallic polymers and carbon-nanotube meshes in various parts of the armor, a departure from the Mark III's predominantly titanium alloy construction. These changes, combined with the suit's gantry and a reservoir of raw materials, allowed Tony and Faith to potentially build suit components on-demand whenever the need arose.
However, they hadn't yet tested this process to his satisfaction, as he aimed to refine it further. If successful, he and Faith would have the ability to create suits at will, provided they carried sufficient Repulsor technology to fuel the molecular engineering processes required for fabricating complex polymers and pure carbon nanotubes from available materials.
A knock on his door interrupted Tony's musings, and he quickly opened it to find Faith and Willow waiting outside. Eager to share his latest idea, Tony addressed Willow, who had been instrumental in designing both the Mark IV suits and the Tech-Ball.
"What if I could make the suits using the same process, we used to make that Tech-Ball thingy?" he inquired.
Willow considered the idea and responded, "There would be some reductions in certain qualities due to a materials change," she said as she and Faith entered the room. "But it's likely you could create a suit that's highly resistant to heat, plasma, and electrical energy attacks, even if it might be slightly less resistant to kinetic energy-based attacks."
Tony wasn't satisfied with the trade-off. "Not good enough," he declared. Turning to Jarvis, he asked, "Did I bring a Tech-Ball?"
Jarvis replied in his characteristic manner, "In the breast pocket of your suit jacket, sir. Which I believe you discarded over the back of the chair."
Tony retrieved the Tech-Ball without commenting on Jarvis' snark. He held the Tech-Ball in his palm, his mind buzzing with possibilities. "Willow, we really should figure out a better name for this," he mused.
Willow nodded in agreement. "We will," she assured him.
Faith, ever practical, chimed in, "Of course, you need to figure out what the average person would do with a Tech-Ball."
Tony acknowledged the point. "You're right, Faith," he said, his gaze shifting between his daughter and her girlfriend. "While I have you two in here, we should go over, with Pepper, about the Senate hearing tomorrow."
April 21, 2010 – Wednesday
U.S. Capitol Building, Washington D.C.
It was the first time since Faith had accepted her birthright as a Stark that she had to testify before the Senate, but she had a feeling it wasn't going to be pleasant. She and Tony were sitting at the table by themselves. In the first row of seats behind him, a line of uniforms and gray crew cuts interrupted only by the presence of Pepper or Willow, who periodically bounced up to whisper something to the father-daughter duo. Behind that first row was a gallery of citizens who had waited in line to see the show.
Emotions swirled within Faith, a blend of determination and trepidation, as she faced the daunting Senate hearing. It was a moment of reckoning for her and her father, Tony Stark. The weight of their responsibilities as public figures and the legacy of the Stark name rested heavily on their shoulders.
Tony, the ever-confident genius, couldn't help but feel a flicker of unease. He leaned forward, an air of anticipation radiating from him, as he assessed the room. He might not have been the poster child for civic engagement, but today was different. The crowd gathered before them wasn't just here for politics; they were here to witness a spectacle, to see the Starks challenged by the fierce senators.
The trick here, Tony thought, was going to be to put his and Faith's heads down, let everything roll over them, and rope-a-dope their way to freedom. For it to work, they would have to get the crowd on their side.
As of right that moment, perhaps twenty minutes into the hearing, Tony's instincts told him that it was working. He and Faith were getting laughs from the audience, and more importantly, the faces on the senatorial dais were getting more and more... well... stern.
Their primary antagonist was a certain Senator Stern, of nondescript politics except for a notable skill at grandstanding.
Tony fiddled with the Tech-Ball, his brilliant mind envisioning a plethora of world-changing applications. There was an undercurrent of excitement in the room, as if a spark of innovation was about to set the world on fire.
"I'm sorry we're not seeing eye-to-eye here, Mr. and Ms. Stark, but according to these contracts you agreed to provide the U.S. taxpayer with—" He flipped through a file and read, his voice filled with bureaucratic authority. "'All current and as yet undiscovered weapons systems.' Now do you or do you not both, at present, possess very specialized weapons—"
Faith's voice cut through the room, resolute and unwavering, "We do not."
Out of the corner of Tony's eye, he noticed someone entering the hearing chamber. The face was familiar but remained just out of immediate recognition.
"You are not in possession of said weapons?" the senator asked, pressing the issue.
Tony leaned forward, his voice dripping with both intellect and irony, "It depends on how we define the word 'weapon.'" His response was laced with a hint of challenge, ready to engage in the verbal joust that was unfolding in this high-stakes arena.
"The Iron Man and Ironheart weapons," Stern said with a tone of accusation.
Faith's resolve remained steadfast. "Our devices do not fit that description," she asserted, her voice carrying a hint of defiance.
Stern's practiced weariness grated on Tony and Faith, pushing them to maintain their composure.
"I believe Faith will agree that we would describe it by defining it as what it is," Tony chimed in with a hint of exasperation, and Faith nodded in agreement.
"Which is?" Stern pressed further, as if toying with them.
Faith's response was delivered with a touch of pride and a tinge of amusement, "A high-tech prosthesis."
The gallery erupted into laughter, their joviality echoing through the chamber. Tony and Faith exchanged a bemused glance, both understanding the absurdity of the situation. They saw Pepper and Willow in the audience, who had buried their faces in their hands, trying to stifle their own laughter at the unexpected turn of events.
Stern's frustration was becoming increasingly evident as he continued to press his argument. "The Iron Man and Ironheart suits are the most powerful weapons on the face of the Earth," he declared. "Yet you two use them to sell tickets to your theme park."
Tony's intellect was quick to respond, and he couldn't help but challenge Stern's assertions. "My father conceived of the Stark Expo to transcend the need for war by addressing its sole cause: the coveting of resources," he explained, passionately. He shoved the Tech-Ball into his pocket, finally managing to tame his distraction. But the concept of using it for energy generation still swirled in his mind. "Primarily energy. If your priority in this hearing was truly the safety—"
But Stern cut him off, sticking to his agenda. "Our priority is for you to turn the Iron Man suit over to the military."
Faith, with a fierce resolve, asserted, "I am Ironheart, and my father is Iron Man. The suits and we are one. To turn over the Iron Man and Ironheart suits would be to turn over ourselves."
Tony, with a touch of sarcasm and wit, added, "And that would be indentured servitude or prostitution, depending on what state you're in."
Stern played along with the banter after gauging the audience's mood. "I enjoy a good laugh," he conceded, "This, however, is no laughing matter. I am no expert in—"
"Prostitution? Of course not. You're a senator," Tony quipped, drawing a bigger laugh from the audience than Faith's earlier prosthesis comment.
Pepper and Willow, sitting in the gallery, couldn't hide their exasperation, casting disapproving looks at Tony and Faith, urging them to get back on track.
Stern remained unwavering in his pursuit of the Stark legacy. "On weapons, Mr. and Ms. Stark," he declared, his voice determined. "Fortunately, we have someone here to testify who is. I'd like to call upon Justin Hammer, our current primary defense contractor." He leaned back to confer with a senatorial colleague as Justin Hammer, the embodiment of an American Glad-hander, made his way down the aisle.
Hammer exuded a sort of self-assured charm as he strolled towards the witness stand. His tie was slightly askew, his pants snug, his hair rebelliously long, giving him a roguish appearance. He exchanged nods and smiles with acquaintances along the way, clearly relishing the spotlight.
As Hammer passed by Tony and Faith's table, Tony couldn't resist a snarky comment. "Sloppy seconds," he muttered, just loud enough for Hammer to hear.
Hammer, ever the slick talker, shot back without breaking stride, "Blow me."
Faith, curious about the situation, whispered to her father, "I take it his company is the one that took over when we got out of weapons manufacturing?" Tony nodded in agreement, confirming her suspicion.
Tony and Faith refocused their attention on the committee, and Tony took a moment to assert his presence. "Let the minutes reflect," he declared, his voice clear and composed as he spoke into the microphone, "that I observe Mr. Hammer entering the chamber and am wondering if and when an expert will also be in attendance."
Senator Stern's gavel rang out to quell the laughter that had erupted in the chamber. If Hammer was bothered by the amusement, he didn't let it show. He was a showman, and he continued to play to the gallery, though his words were directed squarely at Tony.
"I may well not be an expert," Hammer declared, his tone persuasive, "But you know who was?" He paused, a theatrical flourish, drawing the audience's attention. "Your dad. Howard Stark. A father to us all, and to the military-industrial age. And just to be clear: he was no flower child. He was a lion. He knew that technology was the sword, not the shield that protects this great nation. A sword that when rattled can calm threats from foreign lands and slay dangers before they arrive on our shores."
Tony and Faith allowed Hammer to have his moment in the spotlight. They were well aware of Hammer's penchant for grandstanding. However, when he brought up Howard Stark, Tony's father and Faith's grandfather, it struck a chord. That was something they couldn't let slide.
Tony fiddled with the Tech-Ball, molding its shape and consistency as he considered his response.
Hammer continued his speech, amplifying the drama. "Anthony and Isabella Stark have created swords with untold possibilities, and yet they insist their shields! They ask us to trust them as we cower behind them!" He made sure to angle his head toward the main network camera feed for added emphasis. "I love peace. But we live in a world of grave threats. Threats that Mr. and Ms. Stark will not always be able to foresee."
The mention of their legal names drew eye-rolls from Tony and Faith. Nobody had called Tony "Anthony" since his early childhood, back when kindergarten was a realm of conformity and "Isabella" hadn't been in Faith's vocabulary since the day she was adopted by the Lehanes after her mother's death.
Hammer's words were carefully crafted to pull at the heartstrings of the audience. "God forbid a similar technology is created by a country far less moral than our own," he declared with dramatic solemnity. "Believe me, ladies and gentlemen, when I say that Mr. and Ms. Stark keeps the secrets of those suits at the peril of our citizens."
From his breast pocket, Hammer retrieved Iron Man and Ironheart action figures, holding them up as if they were relics of great importance. "I found these in my sister's car," he continued with gravitas. "They belong to my nephew, Timmy. He believes in Iron Man and Ironheart."
The spectacle had been playing to the cameras, but now Hammer turned his attention squarely to Tony and Faith, drawing them into the center of the stage, isolating them from the rest of the hearing. "Please don't let him down, Tony, Faith."
Tony, realizing that it was time to regain control of the situation, discreetly pulled out his new PDA. It was a sleek piece of technology, a blend of fiber optics and computing power designed by Tony, Willow, and Jarvis. It appeared to be a simple piece of Plexiglas but was far more sophisticated than it seemed.
Senator Stern couldn't hide his satisfaction at Hammer's theatrical display. "Thank you, Mr. Hammer," he said. "The committee would now like to invite Lieutenant Colonel James T. Rhodes into the Chamber."
As the green room door opened, Rhodey entered in full dress uniform, looking somewhat uncomfortable and out of place. Unlike the high-ranking officers in the front row, Rhodey didn't relish the spotlight or dealing with politicians. He had repeatedly expressed his preference for staying in the field, even if it meant a capped career at bird colonel.
Tony and Faith met Rhodey in the aisle and exchanged stiff handshakes. Their interactions may have lacked the warmth of a casual reunion, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. They were relieved to see Rhodey there, a beacon of trustworthiness in an otherwise turbulent hearing. If there was one person, they could always count on to do the right thing, it was James Rhodes.
Tony's murmur to Rhodey revealed his surprise at the turn of events. "I didn't expect this," he confided as Rhodey passed.
Rhodey, with his trademark pragmatism, responded firmly, "Look, it's me. I'm here. Deal with it."
With Rhodey now sworn in, Senator Stern took control of the proceedings. "I have before me," he began, "a report on the Iron Man and Ironheart compiled by Colonel Rhodes. Colonel, can you please read into the minutes page fifty-four, paragraph four?"
Rhodey, ever the professional, made a diplomatic attempt to address the situation. "Certainly, Senator," he began. "May I first point out that I was not briefed on this hearing, nor prepared to testify—"
Senator Stern, showing little interest in Rhodey's concerns, cut him off without looking up from his notes. "Duly noted. Please continue."
Rhodey, swallowing his frustration, continued, "This paragraph, out of context, does not reflect the summary of my findings."
Senator Stern pressed on, demanding answers. "Did you or did you not write, quote, 'Iron Man and Ironheart presents potential threats to the security of both the nation and her interests'?"
Rhodey, true to his professional nature, provided the full quote, "'As they do not operate within any definable branch of government.' I, however, went on to recommend that the benefits far outweigh the liabilities—"
Senator Stern, uninterested in the nuances of Rhodey's perspective, interrupted, "Thank you, Colonel Rhodes."
Unperturbed by the interruption, Rhodey continued, determined to make his point. "—And that it would be in our best interest to fold Mr. and Ms. Stark into the existing chain of command."
Faith exchanged a concerned look with Willow. She had heard from her girlfriend about Buffy's experiences with a military unit in Sunnydale, and the prospect of integrating with the military didn't sit well with her.
Tony, always quick with a quip, interjected, "We're not joiners, but I would consider Secretary of Defense. Provided the hours could be—"
Senator Stern, growing increasingly frustrated, cut Tony off sharply. "This isn't a job interview. Colonel Rhodes, please read page fifty-six of your report."
Rhodey's gaze fell on the indicated page, and he retrieved a copy of the report, which he carried to a row of monitors that came to life as he approached. Each monitor displayed a series of blurry satellite images.
Seated and equipped with a laser pointer from his pocket, Rhodey began his presentation. "Intelligence suggests that the devices seen in these photos are, in fact, all attempts at making manned copies of Mr. and Ms. Stark's suits." With precision, he pointed to various locations on the monitors where one could discern what might resemble an armored suit.
As Rhodey continued with his presentation, Faith whispered to her father, "I think we've seen enough, Dad." Tony silently nodded, agreeing with her sentiment. He set to work on his PDA, preparing to provide some visual evidence that could clarify the situation, even if it didn't align with Senator Stern's agenda.
Rhodey concluded his report with a grave statement, "This has been corroborated by our allies and local intelligence on the ground, indicating that they are quite possibly, at this moment, functional."
Tony rose from his seat, the determination evident in his eyes. He touched an icon on his PDA, his fingers dancing across the screen. "Let's see what's really going on here," he declared, linking the bank of monitors to a specialized Jarvis subroutine that ran natively on the PDA.
"If... I... may," Tony continued, buying time as a series of classified videos began to load and play on the monitors. Some of these videos existed only on intranets behind security walls that the Department of Defense would never breach.
In the top left corner, a North Korean proving ground came into view, hosting a test flight of a skeletal suit whose pilot appeared profoundly uncertain about his role in the proceedings. As the video continued, something resembling a repulsor, mounted on a directional jet on the suit's back, fired, sending both the suit and its pilot into the air. The pilot raised one arm and discharged a series of mini-rockets from a magazine mounted on their forearm.
"You're right," Tony acknowledged, "North Korea is well on its..."
But before he could finish his sentence, the suit and its pilot were engulfed in a blinding flash of light that overwhelmed the camera. When the image finally resolved, all that remained was the smoldering wreckage of the suit, being hosed down by firefighters.
Tony let out a sigh of relief, shaking his head. "Nope. Whew. That was a relief."
On the remaining monitor, Tony watched with a mix of amusement and disbelief as the various countries' attempts to replicate the Iron Man and Ironheart suits played out in similar and sometimes disastrous fashion.
"Let's see how Russia is doing... oh dear," Tony commented, followed by his thoughts on Japan, India, and Germany. Each time, he observed the attempts with a mixture of concern and wry humor. "Yowch. That's gonna leave a mark."
Finally, he froze all the looping videos except one, expanding that particular video to fill the entire bank of monitors. "Wait," he exclaimed. "The United States is in the game. Look, it's Justin Hammer."
Tony motioned to the camera crews filming the hearing. "Hey guys, you might want to push in on Hammer for this."
The single remaining video depicted a farcical scene. Justin Hammer himself stood on the side of the frame while a crew strapped a volunteer into an armored exoskeleton. It was clear that the design of the exoskeleton had been inspired by the Iron Man and Ironheart suits, but the weight distribution was all wrong for the propulsion systems. Hammer stood back and winked at the camera.
The real-life Justin Hammer in the Senate chamber appeared as though he had a mouthful of spoiled milk, the tension in the room palpable. Meanwhile, on the monitor bank, Hammer's prototype suit lifted off into the air over a sandy proving ground behind Hammer Industries' main manufacturing facility.
The video continued with the prototype performing a loop-de-loop against the blue sky, firing off small rockets that detonated on the ground. Hammer cheered and said something self-congratulatory toward the camera. But then, in a comically disastrous turn of events, the loop-de-loop turned into a spiral, and the thrusters cut out, sending the operator hurtling parallel to the ground. Pieces of the prototype began to fall off, and the operator tumbled through the air with a trailing yell. He landed in a sitting position, kicking up a cloud of sand.
Tony could hear Hammer yelling to cut the video as the operator's unfortunate descent reached a humorous climax. Tony froze the playback on the moment when the operator hit the ground, and he glanced back at the crowd. He saw winces and grimaces as everyone present shared in the collective empathetic discomfort of the operator's tumble.
Justin Hammer attempted to mitigate the humor that had unfolded on the screens. "I would like to point out," he interjected, "that the test pilot survived and only suffered minor spinal bruising. He is currently white-water rafting with his family."
Senator Stern, clearly frustrated and determined to regain control of the hearing, pointed his gavel at Tony. "By making a mockery of this hearing, you are shortchanging the American people!" he declared with all the high dudgeon he could muster.
Tony, unfazed by Stern's outburst, took his turn to interrupt. "Agreed," he responded. "Camera one, go tight on me and give me a slow creep on the senator. It's time for a little transparency."
Stern issued a warning, his tone dripping with exasperation. "My patience is waning."
However, Tony was quick to interject, getting straight to the point. "You want full disclosure?" he asked. "Neither Faith nor I trust you. I'm sorry. You're creepy. We may be a little nutty. We may go off half-cocked sometimes, but—strangely—we are inherently trustworthy, and have been for the better part of six months."
Tony turned to face the camera, which was still focused on him, transmitting his image to those tuned into the Senate hearing. "Look at me. Now look at him. Now look at him looking at me."
Stern's exasperated face appeared on the monitors, and he could only sputter, "I think we've heard enough."
Tony, always the showman, recaptured the camera's attention as he addressed the room. "The good news is," he began, "Faith and I are your nuclear deterrent. The goal of the suits is not to use them. And it's working. You're welcome. We have successfully privatized world peace."
Tony then shifted gears, attempting to lighten the mood with a humorous aside. "Not that we're above throwing on the suits and breaking up an international bar fight here and there. But that's just putting our finger in a dike. No offense, Senator Buxton; I don't mean to belittle the ongoing issues you've had with your levee systems. The point is—"
Senator Stern, with his gavel poised, demanded a point. "There had better be one."
Tony continued, asserting his position. "You want our property," he stated firmly. "You can't have them. Faith and I try to play ball with these ass-clowns and be their dirty little secret. Something goes boink overseas, we get the three-a.m. booty call. Usually from the Pentagon. Or, often from one of the faces you see before you."
As unrest began to spread through the gallery, and Stern insisted on proof, Tony sensed that it was time to wrap up his speech. "Mine and Faith's bond is with the American people, whom we will always keep safe," he declared. "And we will serve the people of this great nation at the pleasure of... ourselves."
With a dramatic flourish, Tony gestured for the camera to zoom in on him once more. "And if there's one thing I have proven to the world at large by any metric, it's that you can count on me to pleasure myself."
The gavel came down as Senator Stern proclaimed, "Adjourned!" and made his exit from the committee dais.
Tony, with his characteristic showmanship, leaped down from the lectern he had commandeered, dazzling the crowd with peace signs, blown kisses, and a myriad of charismatic gestures. He couldn't resist delivering a parting shot to Justin Hammer, his eyes locked on the camera. "I don't know if Faith and I are swords or shields," he quipped, "But I do know that Hammer is a tool."
With that punchline, the hearing coverage came to a close, and the Senate chamber burst into a frenzy of activity. Reporters hurried to write their stories, Senate aides raced to schedule meetings and manage media narratives, and various onlookers milled about, uncertain of their next moves.
Faith, still trying to engage with Senator Stern, gave him a wink and voiced her confusion. "I don't get why you're after me and Dad like this," she said. "We did you a big favor. We successfully privatized world peace. What more do you want from us?"
However, Stern was in no mood for dialogue. His response was laced with venom. "Fuck you, bitch," he snapped. "We're done here." Flanked by his entourage, he stormed out of the chamber.
Faith couldn't resist delivering the final word as he left. "No one calls me 'bitch'," she retorted, her voice trailing after Stern as he retreated, "except my girlfriend, and even then, it's during some very steamy sex."
Willow's cheeks flushed with a deep shade of red in response to her girlfriend's bold and saucy remark. The unexpected comment had taken her by surprise, leaving her momentarily flustered.