Chapter 6: Gala
December 23, 2005 – Friday
The event was in full swing, with attendants scrambling to park cars as quickly as possible. The line of vehicles waiting to get in seemed endless, and Tony's patience was wearing thin. He decided to take matters into his own hands. With a determined look, he gunned the Audi's engine, deftly maneuvering around the lengthy string of cars. The powerful car roared to the front of the line, taking everyone by surprise.
The parking attendant at the curbside jumped back in astonishment as the Audi pulled up, their eyes wide with disbelief. Horns immediately started honking in protest, creating a cacophony of angry drivers. Even Obadiah Stane, Tony's long-time friend and business associate, turned his attention in the direction of the Audi, a mixture of shock and amusement on his face. What he had just witnessed was pure Tony Stark audacity.
Tony swung open the car door with his trademark flair, stepping out with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. He casually waved to the line of honking cars behind him, and instantly, the honking ceased as drivers scrambled to capture the moment on their camera phones, eager to snap pictures of the famous Tony Stark.
With a charismatic grin, Tony tossed the car keys over to the attendant, who caught them with a mix of awe and excitement, their hands trembling with the unexpected encounter. Then, he walked around to the passenger side of the car to assist Faith and Willow, his body language exuding charm and magnetism.
One by one, he helped Faith and Willow out of the Audi, each step making a statement. As he guided them, his touch was gentle yet full of assurance, and his eyes held a spark of warmth that contrasted with his earlier daring stunt.
Willow smiled warmly as she laced her arm through Faith's, feeling the surge of excitement and attention wash over them like a tidal wave. With Tony leading the way, they strode confidently toward the crowd, the epitome of charisma and confidence. All eyes, all cameras, everything had turned away from Stane and was now pointed in their direction, capturing their every move.
Photographers were snapping away as fast as they could, the rapid-fire clicks of their cameras filling the air like a rhythmic heartbeat. Television news reporters, their voices trembling with excitement, spoke into their cameras lenses as if they had just witnessed a historic event. The frenzy was akin to the arrival of a rockstar, and it was all centered on Tony, Faith, and even Willow.
Faith, thanks to her Slayer hearing, picked up snippets of what the reporters were saying. Some of them were commenting on Willow, wondering who the enigmatic redhead was. Others were intrigued by how Faith had managed to keep her secret romance under wraps. Faith couldn't help but chuckle softly at their assumptions; little did they know that the blossoming romance between her and Willow was something altogether new and extraordinary.
As the trio approached Stane, his expression was a chaotic battleground of emotions. He seemed utterly unsure of how to react, with a half-dozen conflicting expressions warring for dominance on his face. Tony, ever the showman, didn't give him a moment to gather his thoughts. He casually walked up to Stane and draped an arm around his shoulders, a move that was both friendly and effortlessly confident. He waved to the cameras, and they obligingly fired away, capturing the iconic moment for posterity.
In a low voice, Stane questioned them, hoping to avoid microphones picking up their conversation. "What are you two doing here?" he asked. "I thought you and Faith were going to lie low."
Tony's response was laced with determination and a hint of defiance. "It's time to start showing my face again," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of a man who had weathered storms and was ready to face the world.
Faith, standing proudly by her father's side, added her own resolve to the mix. "And time people started seeing me as a Stark," she affirmed, her voice filled with a sense of belonging and purpose that couldn't be ignored.
Television reporters, relentless and eager for a story, were already shouting questions at Tony and Faith, their voices competing to be heard above the clamor. However, the father-daughter duo handled it with practiced ease, dismissing them with a casual wave of their hands and a confident declaration: "See ya inside. Lots to talk about." With that, Tony took the lead, guiding Faith and Willow up the red carpet.
Despite their attempts to move on, the reporters persisted, continuing to hurl questions at the trio, their determination unwavering. It was a whirlwind of inquiries, each one seeking a piece of the story.
Amidst the chaos, Willow happened to catch a question directed at her, specifically regarding her relationship with Faith. She responded with a sly smile and a touch of mystery in her tone, "Wouldn't you like to know."
Entering the main ballroom where the gala was being held was like stepping back into another time, a bygone era of elegance and sophistication. The opulent setting exuded an air of refinement, transporting its guests to a more glamorous era. A formal band, dressed impeccably in perfectly tailored tuxedos, serenaded the crowd with the dulcet tones of "Begin the Beguine." Equally well-dressed attendees swayed gracefully in the center of the room, their movements mirroring the timeless elegance of the music.
Faith's voice broke through the enchanting ambiance, a reminder of the new reality Willow was stepping into. "Just so you know, Red," Faith said, her words carrying a note of caution, "now that you're dating a Stark, expect more of that out there." Her eyes scanned the room, acknowledging the elegant soirée taking place around them.
Tony chimed in, his tone carrying a blend of wisdom and charm. "She's right, Willow," he added, his voice laced with a fatherly concern. "Just because you're dating my daughter will put you in the spotlight. People will be clamoring for information about you. Wondering why one of the most eligible bachelorettes is off the table."
The strains of the music enveloped them as they took their first steps into the elegant ballroom, a place where history and modernity intertwined in a dance of opulence. Willow's eyes darted around, taking in the grandeur of the event, the well-dressed guests, and the lively dance floor. It was a world far removed from her usual, and she couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation.
Faith, always poised and confident, offered a reassuring smile to Willow. "Don't worry, Red," she said, her voice filled with genuine affection. "You've got this, and I'm right here with you."
Tony, too, provided a comforting presence. He placed a hand on Willow's shoulder, a gesture that conveyed both support and encouragement. "You're not alone in this," he assured her. "Just be yourself, and everything will fall into place."
"And what happens when the press gets wind that your daughter is dating the head of your R&D department?" Willow's question hung in the air, a reminder of the potential storm that could brew in the world of media and public perception.
Tony considered her words carefully, his expression a mix of contemplation and determination. He sighed, acknowledging the challenge ahead. "The press is relentless," he admitted. "But, Willow, what matters most is that I support Faith's choices. If your relationship becomes public knowledge, you and Faith will face scrutiny, but you'll face it together."
Faith, standing beside them, added her own perspective. "We can handle it," she said, her voice unwavering. "And we won't let it define us. Our love is ours, and nothing can change that." She then held out her hand. "Care to dance?"
Willow smiled warmly and took Faith's hand in hers. "I'd love to," she replied, her voice filled with affection.
Willow and Faith moved gracefully on the dance floor, their bodies swaying in perfect harmony with the music. The elegant waltz enveloped them, as if time itself had slowed down to accommodate their dance. Faith's strong and confident lead guided Willow, and she followed with a grace that seemed almost ethereal.
As they glided across the floor, Willow couldn't help but notice the looks they were receiving from other dancers. Some of the guests at the gala had paused in their own dances to steal glances at the striking couple before them. Whispers of curiosity and admiration rippled through the crowd as they twirled and swayed.
Willow could feel the weight of their attention, a mixture of fascination and intrigue. Some people appeared genuinely taken aback by the sight of Faith, a Stark heiress, dancing so intimately with her partner. Others were captivated by the undeniable chemistry between the two women.
But amidst the inquisitive gazes and whispered conversations, Willow and Faith remained unfazed.
The enchanting music swirled around Willow and Faith as they continued their dance, their steps fluid and synchronized. Willow could sense the admiration and curiosity from the onlookers, their eyes lingering on the two women who seemed so deeply in love and in tune with each other.
Some of the other dancers couldn't help but steal glances, their faces reflecting a mix of surprise and admiration. Willow caught glimpses of raised eyebrows and subtle nods of approval. It was as if their dance had cast a spell, drawing the attention of the gala's attendees.
But Willow and Faith were in their own world, their gaze locked on each other, their movements a testament to their connection. They moved as one, their bodies telling a story of love, strength, and unity.
The music enveloped them in its sweet embrace, and in that intimate moment, Willow's whispered confession hung in the air like a cherished secret. "I love you," she confessed softly, her voice carrying the depth of her emotions.
Faith's smile, radiant and filled with affection, was her response. "I love you too, Willow," she whispered in return, her voice a warm caress against Willow's ear.
Willow, however, couldn't help but react to the use of her first name. Her eyes widened slightly, a hint of surprise flickering in her gaze. "Did you just call me, Willow?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.
Faith chuckled softly, her eyes dancing with amusement. "It's your name, isn't it?" she replied with a playful grin.
Willow blushed slightly, her cheeks turning a rosy shade. "Well, yeah, but I'm so used to you calling me 'Red,'" she admitted, her fingers nervously playing with the collar of Faith's dress.
Faith's expression softened with tenderness. "Do you want me to go back to calling you 'Red'?" she inquired, genuinely concerned.
A warm smile spread across Willow's face, and she shook her head. "No," she admitted, her voice filled with sincerity. "I like it when you say my name."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Tony had observed his daughter and Willow for a few moments, a proud smile on his face, before gracefully navigating the gala. His presence was a magnet for attention, drawing nods, words of greeting, and handshakes from the guests. He effortlessly charmed everyone he encountered, shaking the hands of startled men and eliciting delighted smiles from thoroughly charmed women. Each and every person he engaged with looked astounded and pleased to see him, basking in the glow of his charisma.
Even those whom Tony passed by without stopping couldn't help but whisper his name in hushed tones. It was an undeniable truth that one's name held power, a power to grab one's attention, even in the midst of a multitude of conversations. Tony had always been impressed by this phenomenon, a reminder that the ancients might have been onto something when they believed in the significance of names.
"Mr. Stark!"
The call of his name prompted Tony to turn, his gaze falling upon a tall man with thinning hair who approached him with purpose. The man's tuxedo seemed out of place, much like a fish wearing tennis shoes.
"Agent Coulson," the man introduced himself without preamble.
Tony's mental Rolodex whirred to life, searching for any hint of recognition. Yet, nothing surfaced. If Pepper had ever mentioned this individual to him, Tony had likely dismissed it as unimportant and promptly forgotten about it. His response was casual, betraying his lack of interest. "Was I supposed to meet you here?"
Coulson's expression grew more serious, emphasizing the urgency of his message. "No, but neither you nor your daughter have been returning my calls," he stated firmly. "This is serious. We need to get something on the books, or I will have to insist through more official means, if I make myself clear."
Coulson believed his words carried weight, that his insistence was a formidable threat. However, Tony's attention was far from focused on the agent. In fact, he wasn't listening at all.
Tony's attention was abruptly redirected as his gaze fixated on the graceful, curving stairway leading into the main section of the room. Descending those stairs was Pepper, a vision of elegance unlike anything Tony had ever seen before. She radiated timeless beauty in a stunning white classic gown, her strawberry-blond hair flowing freely and cascading around her shoulders. Tony had to blink and look twice just to be sure he wasn't caught in a dream.
It took him a moment to remember that Agent Coulson, the persistent government representative, was still standing nearby. Tony quickly regained his composure, realizing that he had more pressing matters to attend to. "Yes, you're right," Tony said, patting Coulson on the chest as if they were old friends. "I'm going to handle this right now. Let me... make a date with my assistant, and Faith and I'll get back to you."
Without waiting for Coulson's response, Tony hurriedly walked away, his steps almost resembling a sprint. He left Coulson with his mouth hanging open, the unasked question still on his lips, a question that would remain unanswered.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Faith and Willow were lost in the enchanting dance, their movements flowing with grace and harmony as the music carried them away. They seemed to exist in their own world, oblivious to the events unfolding around them.
Suddenly, two police officers approached the dancing couple. Their expressions were stern, and one of the officers cleared his throat to get Faith's attention. She turned, a puzzled expression on her face as she stopped dancing.
"Faith Lehane," the officer began, his tone carrying a note of authority. "You're under arrest."
Faith's eyes widened in surprise, and she exchanged a quick, worried glance with Willow. The past had come back to haunt her at the most unexpected moment.
Without hesitation, Willow stepped protectively between Faith and the officers, her stance firm and unwavering. She met their gaze with a determined expression, ready to defend Faith.
But just as tension began to escalate, a sudden and unexpected presence appeared beside them. Agent Coulson materialized with his usual calm and composed demeanor, as if he had been there all along. He swiftly displayed his credentials for the officers to see, his S.H.I.E.L.D. identification gleaming under the ambient lights of the gala.
"I'm Agent Coulson with S.H.I.E.L.D.," he stated confidently, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "Faith is under our protection. You have no jurisdiction here."
The two police officers exchanged bewildered glances, clearly taken aback by the unexpected turn of events and the presence of a high-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. They were momentarily speechless, unsure of how to proceed.
Coulson continued to explain, "Ms. Stark will be receiving a full presidential pardon for her past crimes in Sunnydale. This matter is being handled at a much higher level."
The officers nodded, their initial resolve melting away in the face of Coulson's credentials and explanation. They retreated, clearly out of their depth and authority in this situation.
Coulson turned his gaze towards Faith, his expression a mixture of professional duty and genuine concern. "While what I said was true, it's not the reason I'm here," he admitted, his voice taking on a more personal tone. "I've been trying to get in touch with you and your father. Neither of you have been returning my calls."
Faith furrowed her brow, clearly surprised by Coulson's statement. "You would have to take that up with Dad," she replied honestly. "I know nothing about any calls from you. Now, if you will excuse us. I was dancing with my girlfriend. I would like to enjoy the rest of my evening."
Coulson appeared torn, as if he had more to say but chose not to press the matter further. Reluctantly, he nodded and stepped away, his retreating figure disappearing into the crowd.
Faith and Willow returned their attention to each other, their bodies swaying to the music once more. The interruption had caused a momentary disruption, but now they were determined to savor the remaining moments of the evening, wrapped in the joy of their dance and each other's company.
Pepper had been completely engrossed in the gala, not expecting to see Tony, so his sudden presence took her by surprise. She blinked in astonishment as she turned and found her boss standing mere inches away.
"Miss Potts, can I have five minutes?" Tony's request was straightforward, but Pepper was clearly puzzled by his unexpected appearance. "You're… you're here?"
Tony couldn't help but drop his usual glib facade in the face of Pepper's genuine surprise. He allowed sincerity to shine through as he complimented her, his eyes softening. "You look like you should always wear that dress."
Pepper's smile widened, her eyes reflecting her gratitude. "Thanks," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. "It was a birthday present, from you."
Tony shrugged casually, as if it were a matter of fact. "I have great taste."
Without giving Pepper a chance to decline, Tony took her hand and led her onto the dance floor, surprising her with his swift and confident movement. As they came to a stop beside Faith and Willow, Tony executed a flawless ballroom move, swinging Pepper around before drawing her close to him.
Their dance began, with Tony's feet gliding gracefully across the floor. However, he couldn't help but notice that Pepper seemed somewhat stiff and tentative in her movements. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "Am I making you uncomfortable? You seem very uncomfortable."
Pepper paused, her humor shining through even in the midst of her unease. "No, I always forget to wear deodorant..." she began, her words laced with a touch of self-deprecation.
Before she could finish her sentence, Faith chimed in from beside her, offering a reassuring comment. "You smell great, Pepper," Faith said with a warm smile.
Pepper continued, her concerns bubbling to the surface. "...and dance with my boss in front of everyone I've ever worked with in a chiffon dress."
Willow, who was dancing with Faith, joined in with a touch of humor. "You're in good company, Pepper," she remarked playfully. "After all, I'm dancing with our boss's daughter. But you don't see me worrying, do you?"
Faith chuckled and nodded, teasing Willow. "You did at first," she reminded her girlfriend with a grin.
Tony flashed a charming smile at Pepper, attempting to alleviate her discomfort. "Would it help if I fired you?" he quipped, his tone light and playful.
"You wouldn't last a week without me," Pepper admitted with a touch of playful confidence.
Tony raised an eyebrow, challenging her assertion. "I'm not so sure."
Pepper, always quick-witted, decided to put him to the test. "What's your social security number?" she asked.
Tony paused in his dance, a puzzled expression crossing his face as he pondered the question. He had filled out that number countless times on various forms throughout his life, but he had never committed it to memory. After a moment of contemplation, he humorously replied, "Five."
Pepper couldn't help but chuckle at his response. "I think you're missing about eight digits. It's 527—"
"Point taken, Miss Potts," Tony interrupted with a grin. He couldn't help but admire the triumphant glint in Pepper's eyes, and a moment later, their shared smiles bridged the gap between them.
As they continued to dance, Pepper's tension gradually melted away, replaced by a growing sense of enjoyment. The enchanting music, the graceful movements, and the warmth of Tony's presence all contributed to a magical moment neither of them had expected.
For Tony, it was almost surprising how much he found himself enjoying the dance. He couldn't help but reflect on the fact that he had faced countless life-threatening situations, unflinchingly tackling each one. Yet, in this simple act of dancing, there was a vulnerability he had never expected. It was as if the dance held a deeper significance, one he was hesitant to acknowledge, just as Pepper might be.
Maybe there's more going on here than he cared to admit. Than either of them cared to admit.
As the thoughts swirled in his mind, they danced on, their steps synchronized with the music's gentle rhythm. Pepper's smile was infectious, and Tony found himself smiling in return, savoring this moment of connection.
At Pepper's suggestion, they decided to step out onto the veranda to catch some fresh air. Tony made a quick stop to get glasses of wine for each of them, and they headed outside, joined by Faith and Willow. The night sky greeted them with a tapestry of stars, and the moon added its soft glow to the scene.
Willow and Faith, respecting their privacy, moved to the other side of the veranda, giving Tony and Pepper the space to enjoy their moment together. The night air was cool and refreshing, a perfect complement to the warmth of their shared smiles and the promise of the evening ahead.
As Willow and Faith moved to the other side of the veranda, they found a comfortable spot to sit and continue their conversation away from the gala's bustling crowd.
Faith couldn't help but replay the encounter with Agent Coulson in her mind. She turned to Willow, her expression contemplative. "Did you catch what Coulson said back there?" she asked, her voice low.
Willow nodded, her brow furrowing slightly. "Yeah, he mentioned trying to get in touch with your dad and you, and that neither of you had been returning his calls," she replied, her curiosity piqued.
Faith sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I don't get it. Why would he be trying to contact us?" She shrugged. "If Dad hasn't mentioned it, there must be a reason. But what's really got me going was that I'm getting a full pardon for the stuff in Sunnydale? I never expected that."
Willow's brow furrowed further as she contemplated Faith's words. "Yeah, that part is really baffling," she agreed. "I mean, a full pardon? That's not something you hear every day. It must be related to something big."
Faith nodded in agreement, her thoughts racing. "It's not like I've been living a saintly life, but a pardon for Sunnydale? That's a whole new level," she mused. "And why now? After all this time?"
Willow shrugged, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Maybe there's been some new development, something that prompted S.H.I.E.L.D. to take action. You should definitely talk to your dad about this. And I will contact Giles, something like this, Giles would have to know about it, right?"
Faith considered Willow's suggestion, recognizing the wisdom in seeking guidance from her father and involving Giles. "You're right," she said, her determination renewed. "I should talk to Dad, and you should definitely reach out to Giles. He might have some insight into this situation."
Willow nodded in agreement. "I'll get in touch with him as soon as we can," she assured Faith.
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"I'm sorry I was so uncomfortable," Pepper said, her voice tinged with embarrassment and vulnerability. She hesitated, clearly hesitant about sharing more, but Tony's amusement encouraged her to continue. "I hate being the center of attention like that, and that's why this one time in high school when I was supposed to be in a play..."
Tony tilted his head, his eyes dancing with amusement, but he held his silence, letting Pepper pour out her feelings.
Pepper continued, her words flowing as she navigated her emotions. "No, never mind. But you know that's why I never wanted to have a big wedding, you know, because I thought everyone would be looking at me wearing a dress." Her eyes widened as she suddenly realized her words might be misconstrued. "Oh, no, no—I'm not saying, like, 'wedding.' No, not like that. I'm just saying, you know…"
Tony decided to put a halt to the emotional outpouring through the most reasonable and preferable means possible. He drew her close and kissed her, his actions driven by a mixture of desire and understanding. He half-expected her to pull away, but she surprised him by melting into the kiss.
In that electrifying moment, their lips were mere millimeters apart, and they gazed into each other's eyes, emotions swirling between them. Then, as abruptly as it began, the moment passed. Tony pulled back, clearing his throat, and tried to figure out what to say next.
He noticed that the glass she was holding was nearly empty and opted for something fairly safe to say to her until he could regroup. "Can I get you another glass of wine?"
Pepper's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as she replied, "A vodka martini, extra dry, with extra olives as soon as possible."
Tony blinked, his emotions still somewhat scattered from his intimate moment with Pepper. He took the empty glass from her and turned to head off the veranda. But just as he was about to make his exit, Pepper's words stopped him in his tracks.
"And, Tony—" Pepper's voice was soft but carried a meaningful weight. He turned, his curiosity piqued, and waited for her to continue. Her unexpected words caught him off guard. "I'm not a cheeseburger," she said.
Tony hadn't been sure what to expect, but that certainly hadn't been it. However, he could see why she would make such a statement. He chuckled softly and nodded in agreement, his eyes locked on hers. "No," he agreed with a playful smile. "You're not a cheeseburger."
With that amusing exchange settled, or at least as settled as it was going to be, Tony headed back out to the bar. The party had gradually built up, and now it was in full swing. Getting to the bar took him far longer than he'd anticipated, as well-wishers and fans stopped him every couple of feet to congratulate him on still being alive.
Finally, with two more drinks in hand, Tony turned to head back to Pepper, his mind focused on rejoining her. However, his path was abruptly blocked by an unexpected presence. Standing directly in his way was Christine Everhart, dressed in a striking red cocktail dress and armed with her ever-present tape recorder. She looked alluring, but there was a predatory glint in her eyes that Tony couldn't ignore.
"Mr. Stark!" Christine exclaimed, her voice oozing with eagerness. "I was hoping I could get a reaction from you."
"Mr. Stark!" Christine exclaimed, her voice oozing with eagerness. "I was hoping I could get a reaction from you or your daughter."
Tony forced a strained smile. "How's 'panic'?" he suggested, trying to keep the atmosphere light despite the growing tension.
Christine smiled thinly, her tone turning more serious. "I was referring to your company's involvement in this latest atrocity."
Tony's earlier glib comment about "panic" was starting to feel less like a joke. It was clear from the way Christine was speaking and looking at him that something serious was brewing, and he was not yet privy to it. Tony was acutely aware that he was about to be blindsided, and he silently thanked his luck that Faith wasn't here to witness this. Deciding to maintain a facade of nonchalance, he shrugged as if he had completely misunderstood her intent and gestured to the lively party around them. "Hey, they just put my name on the invitations."
Christine, undeterred, thrust a dossier of photos out to Tony. "Is this what you call accountability?"
Tony reluctantly took the photos, his heart sinking as he realized the gravity of the situation. Just then, Faith and Willow appeared at his side, having been on their way to the bar for a refill of their own drinks. Faith sensed the tension in her father and asked, "Everything okay, Dad?"
Tony's face had turned stone-cold as he looked at the photos. He showed them to Faith and Willow. In the images, Raza's insurgents were wielding machine guns prominently marked with the Stark logo, and they also had Stark RPGs. The implications were clear, and Tony knew they were in deep trouble.
Tony didn't answer Faith, but he didn't need to. He could feel the weight of her concern and apprehension, knowing that seeing those photos affected her deeply too. After all, it wasn't just his name on the line; it was hers as well. His voice came out mechanical, almost robotic, as he addressed Christine. "When were these taken?" he asked, a desperate hope clinging to the possibility that they were old images, from a time long past.
"Yesterday," Christine answered coldly. "In a village called Gulmira. I'm sure that it's too small for someone like you to have heard of."
Faith and Tony exchanged a significant look, recognizing the name of the village as the place that had once been the home of Yinsen, the man who had helped Tony escape his captivity and build the first Iron Man suit.
Christine continued her merciless assault. "Good PR move," she said, her words laced with disdain. "You tell the world you're a changed man, and that was in part a result of the discovery of your daughter. Even I believed you." She sounded disgusted with herself for having been taken in.
"I didn't approve this shipment," Tony stated firmly, a sense of betrayal settling over him as he realized the magnitude of what had happened.
"Well, your company did," Christine replied, her tone unyielding.
Faith couldn't help but think that Obadiah Stane might have knowledge of how those weapons had ended up in the hands of Raza's insurgents. She suggested, "Dad, maybe Obadiah knows."
Tony nodded in agreement, realizing that they needed to get to the bottom of this quickly. "Come with me," he said, a sense of urgency in his voice. Without waiting for Christine, he turned and made a determined beeline for the red carpet up front, with Willow and Faith following closely behind.
As they walked, Willow voiced her suspicions. "Let me guess," she said, her voice tinged with frustration. "His words of caution about not causing a scene, keeping a low profile, and no press conference were all about keeping you and Faith away from Stark Industries to hide his true intentions."
Neither Tony nor Faith responded to Willow's statement as they continued their march down the red carpet, heading straight toward the paparazzi who had their cameras at the ready. Christine, in her high heels, struggled to keep up with them and had fallen significantly behind.
In a voice loud enough to ensure that his words would be broadcast to the world, Tony spoke briskly to the press, knowing the gravity of his announcement. "I made some promises I'm not going to be able to keep. I suggest you pull all your money out of Stark Industries immediately." The weight of his words hung in the air as he faced the repercussions of the company's actions.
Stane appeared suddenly, intercepting Tony and Faith, steering them away from the assembled press and back up toward the entrance steps. His voice was filled with frustration as he confronted Tony. "Is this like a tic for you?" he remarked sharply. "Some sort of nervous tic? Whenever you have a feeling, you start going to all the people who don't trust you, who don't protect you."
He pointed emphatically at the press, who were desperately shouting questions at Tony and Faith. "They're going to put a spin on everything either of you say!"
Tony and Faith were so furious that their anger began to transform into an unexpected giddiness, perhaps as a defense mechanism in the face of Stane's stern lecture.
"Mr. Stane," Willow interjected calmly. "Tony and Faith have something to ask."
Willow's words shifted the focus of the conversation. Tony's voice turned serious as he lowered it to a manageable level. "I'm not kidding. Am I losing my mind, or is Pepper really cute?" he asked, his question a sudden curveball. "Do you think she's attractive and interesting, or is it just that her hair is down? I've been out of the game for a while."
Stane was incredulous and couldn't believe Tony was bringing up such trivial matters. "Are you out of your mind?" he exclaimed, his voice rising despite his efforts to control it, fully aware of the microphones' range. "You're messing with the 'guys in the rooms'! We're talking about billion-dollar interests, the world order—"
Faith stepped in firmly, cutting off Stane's tirade. "I think I speak for my father when I say we're not worried about that right now," she declared, her resolve clear.
"You both should be," Stane replied, his tone stern and filled with concern. "You'll both disappear. I can't protect you against people like that."
As Stane spoke, flashes from the photographers' cameras erupted in Tony and Faith's faces. The paparazzi had shamelessly crossed the line, sneaking in close to capture more photographs. Stane's patience wore thin, and he abandoned any pretense of self-control as he shouted at them, "Do you mind!" They fell back slightly, not venturing far, as Stane firmly grabbed Tony and Faith by the elbow, pulling them further up the stairs with Willow following closely behind.
"Don't be so naive, either of you," Stane warned, his voice tinged with frustration.
"Naive?" Tony felt his anger bubbling to the surface. "I was naive before, growing up, when they told me, 'Don't ever cross this line; this is how we do business.' Meanwhile, we're double-dealing under the table. We don't even deserve to represent the United States—"
"Tony, you're a child!" Stane interrupted, sounding like a disappointed father figure.
Faith, her determination unwavering, confronted Stane. "You don't believe Dad and I can turn our company around, do you?" she asked firmly.
Stane's response was blunt and cutting. "You two have got about as much control over things as a child riding in the backseat of your father's car with a red plastic steering wheel in your hand," he retorted, emphasizing the depth of their powerlessness in the current situation.
Tony responded with an air of nonchalance, seemingly unperturbed by Stane's threats. "Maybe we'll just get out of the car," he quipped, his defiance evident.
Stane's retort was sharp and unexpected, causing Tony and Faith to freeze in shock. "You're not even allowed in the car."
Tony and Faith exchanged stunned glances, their minds racing to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Willow, ever protective, asked, "Why?"
"It's the only way I could protect them," Stane replied cryptically, clearly done with providing any more fodder for the press. His men closed in around him, forming a protective circle, and they ushered him toward his car.
Remaining on the steps with Willow and Faith, Tony pointed at Stane and shouted, "This is going to stop!" But his words rang hollow, even in his own ears, a powerless threat from a man feeling helpless.
Willow knew they needed to leave the chaotic scene behind. She hurried Tony and Faith away, arranging for Tony's car from the attendant. She then took the wheel, driving the father-daughter duo home, their minds burdened with the weight of Stane's unexpected move and its implications for their future.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
The moment they arrived home, Tony headed straight to his workshop, immersing himself in the comforting embrace of machinery and technology. For him, it was more than solace; it was a sanctuary, the one place in the world where he felt completely safe. The newly minted armor pieces for both his and Faith's suits awaited him, and without wasting any time, he began putting them through their paces, a familiar and reassuring routine.
Upstairs in the living room, Faith sat next to Willow on the couch, her head resting on Willow's shoulder. The large flatscreen TV on the wall in front of them carried the latest news feed, displaying the ongoing tragedy unfolding in the small, war-torn village of Gulmira.
The voice of the on-air reporter filled the room, describing the harrowing situation. "The ten-mile drive to the outskirts of Gulmira can only be described as a descent into Hell," the reporter's voice intoned. "Into a modern-day Heart of Darkness. Simple farmers and herders, from peaceful villages, driven from their homes at the butt of Western rifles and the turrets of modern tanks. Displaced from their lands by warlords and insurgent groups emboldened by their newfound power—a power fueled by high-tech weapons easily purchased with poppy money, further destabilizing a fragile region that for decades has been a tinderbox of tribal feuding and ethnic hatred."
"We were supposed to be turning the company around," Faith said softly, her voice filled with frustration and disappointment. "After what Dad and I witnessed in Afghanistan. We were putting a stop to weapons manufacturing. But Stane…"
Willow sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the situation. She had encountered her fair share of supernatural threats with Buffy, but this was different. This was a real-world crisis, one that couldn't be solved with a stake or a spell. She wasn't sure how to help either Faith or Tony in this complex and morally challenging situation, but she was determined to be there for them, offering whatever support she could.
As the news report continued to describe the heartbreaking situation in Gulmira, both Faith and Willow watched the images and listened to the stories of suffering and despair. The reporter's words painted a grim picture of the villagers' plight as they sought shelter wherever they could, their lives torn apart by conflict and violence.
"The villagers have taken shelter in whatever crude dwellings they can find—in the ruins of other razed villages, in the cold barren scrublands, or in the remnants of an old Soviet smelting plant," the reporter narrated, his voice heavy with the weight of human tragedy. "Our translator relayed to us one human tragedy after another. A seven-year-old boy, thin as a scarecrow, clutching yellowed photographs and holding them out to anyone who would stop, with a child's simple question: 'Where are my mother and father?' A woman, begging for news of her husband, who'd been kidnapped by insurgents—either forced to join their militia, or shot without reason."
Tony, in his workshop, was also tuned into the same news report. He wondered if any accompanying images were appearing on the screen but couldn't bring himself to look. Instead, he focused his attention on the gauntlet for his suit, increasing its power level. He aimed it at a window in the lab and fired, causing the window to explode into fragments and knocking a painting from the wall.
"With no political will or international pressure, there is little hope for these new refugees. Refugees who can only wonder two things: Is the world watching, and who, if anyone, will help?" concluded the reporter.
Tony swept the gauntlet around and fired straight at the plasma television, shattering the screen into pieces. He didn't flinch as debris rained down around him. He just stood there in the smoky aftermath, a complex mix of emotions churning within him, unable to tear his eyes away from the ruined screen.
Tony swiftly disconnected the gauntlet, removed it, and began gathering the pieces of the armor he had designed, making them flexible and collapsible for storage. He retrieved two specially designed storage containers, each about the size of a large suitcase, and loaded both sets of armor into them. His mind raced with the urgency of the situation, and he had just finished securing both sets when he heard a soft clearing of the throat from the workshop door.
Turning around, Tony saw Pepper standing there, and it was only in that moment that he realized he had completely forgotten about her. The last she knew, he had gone off to get her a drink after a dance that had been borderline romantic, and she hadn't seen him since. In contrast to her radiant presence at the gala, in her beautiful chiffon gown, she now looked strikingly out of place in the messy workshop.
Pepper surveyed the chaos of the workshop, keeping her expression impassive. Whatever anger or confusion she might have been feeling toward Tony, she maintained her professionalism. She spoke in a measured voice, one that hinted at mild curiosity, as if she were asking about his choice of necktie for his next public appearance. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?" she inquired.
Tony, in stark contrast, was stoic and emotionless, his voice hollow. He offered no apologies for his abrupt departure or explanations for the workshop's disarray. All he said was, "Get my house in Dubai ready. I want to throw a party."
Pepper's composure cracked ever so slightly, revealing her inner turmoil. She appeared momentarily flustered but managed to regain her poise enough to respond, "Yes, Mr. Stark."
As she walked away to attend to his request, Tony heard the sound of her heels clicking on the parquet floor. Then, two new sets of heels entered the workshop, belonging to Faith and Willow.
"Are we going somewhere?" Faith asked as they both entered, curious about the sudden turn of events.
Tony nodded. "Yes," he said decisively. "It's time we did something. We're going to Dubai. We're going to throw a party and hope that enough people put us there for what I really want us to do." The gravity of the situation hung heavy in the air as they prepared for the next steps in their journey.
December 24, 2005 – Saturday
Willow stood in her office in the mansion to make the phone call to Giles. She needed to reach out to him to inquire about the surprising news of Faith receiving a full pardon for her actions in Sunnydale. She dialed Giles's number, her fingers tapping nervously on the phone as it rang.
After a few moments, he answered, his voice calm and measured as always. "Willow, how can I help you?"
"Hi, Giles," Willow greeted him, her voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
"Not at all," Giles replied. "What can I do for you?"
Willow took a deep breath before plunging into the reason for her call. "Giles, I just wanted to ask if you've heard anything about Faith receiving a full pardon for everything she did in Sunnydale?"
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Giles spoke, his tone contemplative. "I'm afraid I haven't heard anything of the sort, Willow. Though truth be told, after the battle with the First, I had assumed that she had been pardoned back then."
Willow was surprised by Giles's response. "You mean you thought she was already forgiven?"
Giles sighed; his voice tinged with regret. "I had hoped so, considering everything she did to help us during that time. But from what your telling me it appears that wasn't the case."
Willow nodded, understanding the complexity of the situation. "Thank you, Giles. I just wanted to check with you to see if you had any information. It's all a bit mysterious."
"I agree, Willow," Giles replied. "If this is a recent development, it may be worth looking into further. Let me know if you need any assistance, and please keep me informed."
"Will do, Giles," Willow said, her gratitude evident in her voice. "I'll keep you updated. Take care and Merry Christmas."
With that, she ended the call, her mind filled with questions and a determination to uncover the truth about Faith's unexpected pardon.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Faith couldn't shake off the thoughts about her encounter with Agent Coulson and the mysterious message he had delivered. She knew she needed to talk to her father about it.
"Dad," Faith began, her voice slightly hesitant as she broached the topic. "I need to talk to you about something. It's about Agent Coulson."
Tony, who had been packing for their trip to Dubai, turned his attention to his daughter. His brow furrowed slightly as he noticed the seriousness in her expression. "Coulson? You mean that government agent. He approached you also?"
"He did," Faith replied. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before she continued. "He mentioned that he's been trying to get in touch with both of us. He said you and I haven't been returning his calls."
"Yeah he told me the same thing," Tony said. "I had been meaning to talk to Pepper about it. Because I knew nothing about it."
Faith nodded, her gaze steady. "That's not all, Dad. He also mentioned something about me getting a full pardon for my past in Sunnydale."
Tony's eyes widened in surprise. "A full pardon? For everything in Sunnydale? That's... unexpected."
"Yeah," Faith replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I don't know why he would say that, or why now. It's all a bit confusing."
Tony considered her words carefully, his mind racing to make sense of the situation. "This is definitely something we should look into once we return from Dubai," he said, his voice resolute.
December 31, 2005 – Saturday
Tony, Faith, and Willow made their way through the lavish villa in the fading light of dusk, where opulent festivities were in full swing. The atmosphere was electric, with expensive cars pulling up to the entrance and valets working diligently to manage the arrivals. Beautiful and elegantly dressed people filled the space, exuding an air of sophistication and luxury.
The trio navigated through the sea of glitzy guests, seamlessly blending in with the high-society crowd. They greeted people with warm smiles, exchanged pleasantries, and engaged in lively conversations. In this glamorous setting, there was no room for discussions about business strategies or Stark Industries' long-term plans. Dubai was a world apart, where the only agenda was to have a fantastic time.
As they continued their stroll, one of the guests couldn't help but inquire, "Tony, Isabella, neither of you ever said—what is the big occasion?"
Faith, who had seamlessly adopted the alias Isabella for the evening, responded with a casual shrug, her charm shining through. "Besides it being New Year's Eve?"
Tony chimed in with his trademark wit, "Ever known me to need one?"
The guest, a prominent oil tycoon, chuckled heartily in response
The party had reached a fevered pitch, with the guests fully immersed in the festivities. Laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses filled the air as people danced, enjoyed the pool, and indulged in the abundant food and drinks.
Tony, flanked by two exotic companions who were clearly under the influence, moved through the crowd, maintaining his facade of revelry. Faith and Willow walked beside them, playing their part to perfection.
Pepper approached the group, her professional demeanor back in place, though there was a hint of disapproval in her eyes as she observed Tony's antics. "Well, you seem back in old form," she remarked.
Tony responded with a careless shrug, continuing to play the role of the life of the party. "Life of the party. Isn't that what everyone wanted? Cue the fireworks in five, would you?"
The two tipsy girls on his arms found his comment amusing, misinterpreting it as a suggestive innuendo. Their giggles filled the air as they joined in on the playfulness. Tony expertly guided them toward the house, keeping up the charade of being inebriated.
Meanwhile, Faith and Willow, who were also putting on an act, followed Tony's lead and headed toward the house. Pepper's response carried a noticeable edge. "Sure. Don't hurt yourself," she called after Tony.
Willow leaned in to Faith and whispered, "What's wrong with Pepper?" Faith simply shrugged in response, equally puzzled.
Faith glanced at her father and then whispered to her father, "We'll see you; you know where."
Faith and Willow's preparations for the night's mission were well underway. As Tony led the two tipsy companions up to the master bedroom, Faith and Willow headed to their own bedroom, where their roles in the plan would soon come into play.
Willow was tasked with monitoring Tony and Faith's movements once they left the villa. Armed with her laptop and access to the ISC satellite, she would provide vital intel and support, working in tandem with Jarvis as needed.
"Be careful," Willow urged, her voice filled with concern, as Faith closed the bedroom door behind them.
Faith turned to her, her expression filled with determination and love. She leaned in and kissed Willow, their lips meeting in a tender moment of connection. "Promise, Willow," she assured her before breaking the kiss.
With a final glance and a reassuring nod, Faith left the bedroom, making her way to her father's private study. There was no direct access from their bedroom, but Faith, as a Slayer, had the agility to navigate the villa's architecture. She effortlessly flipped herself up onto the roof and moved with purpose across the balcony outside the study
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Tony carefully closed the door of the master bedroom behind him, leaving the two tipsy companions on the oversized bed, their laughter filling the room. With a sly grin, he suggested, "I'll be right back. Why don't you two get started without me?"
The girls laughed in response to his playful remark. Tony checked his watch briefly and then discreetly slipped out of a side door that led to his private study. Waiting for him there was Faith, ready to embark on the next phase of their mission.
Together, they descended to a workshop within the villa, though it couldn't quite compare to the extensive one back home, it was more than sufficient for their current needs. The night was far from over, and they were determined to execute their plan flawlessly.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Pepper stood amidst the crowd, her eyes fixed on the mesmerizing display of fireworks illuminating the night sky. The vibrant bursts of color, accompanied by the hiss and boom of rockets, elicited enthusiastic reactions from the surrounding people. Despite the jubilant atmosphere, she couldn't shake the sense of isolation that had settled over her.
Her mind was preoccupied with trying to decipher what had transpired with Tony, and the answers eluded her grasp. The simplest explanation, as Tony had often preached, was that he had reverted to his old, selfish ways. However, a more complex possibility nagged at her—a post-traumatic stress-induced behavior change, one that had shifted him from a distressed state back to his playboy persona.
Yet, this didn't entirely add up to her. Pepper was aware of the confrontation between Tony, Faith, and Stane, but the details remained elusive. Had Stane's words triggered Tony's return to his previous self? Or was it all part of an intricate scheme devised by Tony and Faith, a plan shrouded in secrecy?
She tried to dismiss the latter notion as overthinking, relying on Occam's razor to guide her. The simplest explanation was often the correct one, and in this case, it seemed more likely that Stane's counsel had prompted Tony's transformation.
Pepper's contemplations were interrupted as she turned away from the fireworks display, only to notice that two of the rockets had veered off course. Unlike the others, they didn't explode but instead continued to diminish in size until they disappeared into the darkness.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Ezil's world had been shattered by the relentless turmoil of war. The invaders had descended upon their town, leaving destruction in their wake. Ezil, just a young boy of nine, had witnessed his father's capture as he desperately searched for food. His mother had clung to him and his younger brother, offering whispered reassurances that his father would return unscathed, entrusting Ezil to be the man of the house in his absence.
But days had passed, and Ezil's father had not returned. Eventually, Ezil, too, was captured while searching for sustenance for his family. He had been thrust into a group of captives, both children and adults, and herded toward the town square.
The square, once a bustling hub of life, now bore witness to a grim transformation. Large wooden crates were being unloaded from trucks, and Ezil knew the contents well—weapons meant for the insurgents. The villagers were being coerced into aiding in the unpacking of the instruments of their own destruction, a cruel irony that weighed heavily on Ezil's heart.
As he watched the crates being opened, a glimmer of hope ignited within him. A drawn, haggard man emerged from the shadows, struggling under the weight of one of the crates. It was his father. In his joy, Ezil couldn't contain his excitement and cried out, rushing toward his father.
But their reunion was cut short by an insurgent, a bruised and battle-worn figure who stepped between them. He raised his hand, striking Ezil across the face with brutal force. The young boy fell to the ground, blood welling from his lip.
Amid the chaos and impending doom, Ezil's prayers soared to the heavens. He implored the unseen Prophet for salvation, not just for his father but for his people who suffered under the yoke of oppression. He yearned for divine intervention, for a celestial hand to reach down and put an end to their anguish.
And then, as if summoned by his fervent pleas, a miracle unfolded before his eyes. From the heavens, a man and a woman descended like celestial beings. They were clad in metal, their eyes aglow with an otherworldly radiance. In the hushed whisper of awe, Ezil recognized them as saviors.
"The Prophet," he breathed, tears of joy streaming down his face. In that moment, he knew that hope had descended from the heavens, and he clung to it with all his heart.