Chapter 8: Infiltration
January 2, 2006 – Monday
Pepper's exhaustion weighed heavily on her as she sat in Tony's dimly lit living room. Her emotions churned like a tempest, a whirlwind of confusion, fear, and a touch of anger. She had barely had a moment to collect her thoughts amidst the chaos of the last twenty-four hours. The world had turned upside down, and she was still struggling to find her footing.
The room felt stifling, as though the walls themselves were closing in on her, echoing the overwhelming events of the day. Pepper couldn't help but wonder how everything had spiraled so far out of control. Tony, injured and unconscious, was now resting in one of the rooms upstairs, his life hanging in the balance. And Faith had her own reasons for resisting the idea of a hospital visit.
The shrill ring of the phone pierced through the heavy silence, jolting Pepper from her thoughts. Her slender fingers trembled slightly as she picked up the receiver, her voice laced with a weariness that only someone in her shoes could understand.
"Yes?" Her response was curt, filled with the emotional weight of the situation. Every word carried the burden of the day's events.
"Ms. Potts. It's Agent Coulson from the Strategic Homeland Inter—"
The mention of SHIELD brought a roll of Pepper's eyes, her patience worn thin by the relentless stream of complications that had infiltrated her life.
"Yes, I know," she replied, her voice tinged with irritation. "Unfortunately, Tony and Faith are not going to be available to sit down with you for a while."
Agent Coulson's calm demeanor didn't sit well with Pepper at this moment. His apparent detachment only fueled her frustration. It felt as though the world was conspiring against her, and she had little patience left to spare.
"Really." Coulson's response held a note of challenge, further exacerbating Pepper's emotional turmoil.
Pepper's voice wavered as she struggled to form coherent sentences. Her emotions, like a turbulent sea, threatened to swallow her whole. She was usually quick-witted and poised, but today's events had left her mentally drained and struggling to find her footing.
"They, uh, there's a, Tony and Faith won't be—" Pepper's voice trailed off, her words stumbling over each other.
Coulson's response was measured, his tone unyielding, as if he were trying to uncover the truth behind Pepper's hesitation. "Maybe I can meet with you and Ms. Rosenberg instead," he suggested.
Pepper slouched back in her chair, her shoulders heavy with fatigue. Her ability to think on her feet had deserted her in this moment of vulnerability. She could only muster a feeble defense. "Why? Neither of us know anything."
Coulson's probing question left Pepper feeling exposed, and she realized she had made a grave mistake. She had played right into Coulson's hands. Her response, while meant to deflect, only deepened his suspicion.
"About what?" Coulson's voice remained steady, his gaze piercing through the phone line.
In that instant, Pepper knew she had dug herself into a hole. Her words had only served to arouse further curiosity, and she had no choice but to dig deeper. "About anything," she stammered, wincing as she spoke. Her frustration and fatigue were palpable in her voice, like cracks in the facade she usually presented.
The sudden buzz of the security monitor startled her, and she turned her attention to the image of James Rhodes that appeared on the screen. Her heart sank at the sight of him, and she let out an exasperated moan.
"Pepper. It's Rhodey," Rhodey's voice came through the monitor, a needless clarification.
Pepper contemplated the idea of refusing to let Rhodey in, but deep down, she knew it was a futile endeavor. James Rhodes was as persistent as they came, and she could read him like an open book. With a resigned sigh, she gave in.
"Come in," she uttered wearily, her voice carrying the weight of exhaustion, and she buzzed him in.
Meanwhile, Coulson persisted, his insistence akin to a child toying with something they shouldn't. "I'd just like to ask you and Ms. Rosenberg a few questions," he pressed.
"We're both really jammed right now," Pepper asserted, her desperation to end the conversation palpable. "Booked solid for the next few weeks. I have to go."
Rhodey had already entered the room, his scowl accentuating the gravity of the situation. It felt like having the Grim Reaper as a close friend. Pepper's finger hovered over the disconnect button, but Coulson refused to relent.
"Let's just put something on the books. How about the twenty-eighth? Seven pm at Stark Industries?" Coulson proposed.
"Great. Perfect. Bye," Pepper replied in a rush, barely paying attention, and abruptly severed the connection.
Rhodey, concerned and likely bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders as well, broke the silence with a simple question that cut through the chaos of the moment.
"How are they doing?" he inquired, his voice carrying a mix of worry and exhaustion that mirrored Pepper's own emotions.
Pepper's reply carried a heavy burden of concern as she updated Rhodey on the condition of Tony and Faith. "Faith's doing better than Tony," she admitted.
Rhodey's determination to see them was unwavering. He took a step closer to Pepper, his eyes reflecting a mix of determination and the shadow of a dark storm cloud. "I want to see them," he repeated.
"You can't see them right now," Pepper argued, her voice tinged with both apprehension and a touch of urgency.
Rhodey, however, was not to be deterred. He moved even closer, his presence imposing. His words were charged with a sense of foreboding as he revealed the extent of his knowledge. "I was watching from Edwards, Pepper. On the screen. I was watching them with the airplanes. I know what they were up to."
Pepper maintained a facade of ignorance, her face a mask of neutrality, though internally she was reeling from the revelation. Rhodey had seen more than she had anticipated, and she had no easy answers to offer.
Rhodey's gaze shifted to the gaping hole in the ceiling, a physical manifestation of the chaos that had enveloped their lives. His disbelief was palpable as he muttered, "What the hell is going on here? Let me in there, Pepper," he demanded, pointing toward the stairway leading to the bedrooms.
As the pressure mounted, Pepper's thoughts raced. She briefly considered ordering Jarvis to initiate a lockdown, securing the entire house against any intruders. It was a power she possessed, a last line of defense to protect Tony and Faith from prying eyes and potential threats. Every room and wing could become an impenetrable fortress at her command, and Jarvis would execute it without hesitation.
Pepper's anger and fear simmered just beneath the surface as she decided to let Rhodey see the consequences of their recent actions. Her voice, cold and cutting, conveyed her pent-up frustration and resentment.
"You want to see them?" she retorted icily. "Fine. See what you've done to him and almost done to her. Faith will likely be in Tony's bedroom with him."
Rhodey wasted no time, ascending the stairs with a sense of urgency, Pepper trailing behind. As he reached Tony's bedroom, he halted in the doorway, his expression a mixture of concern and disbelief. Pepper lingered at a distance, grateful for the distance that separated her from the painful scene inside.
Inside the room, Willow sat in a chair with Faith cradled in her lap, their bodies intertwined as they observed Tony's prone form. Willow's arms enveloped Faith, providing both physical and emotional support. Tony lay in the bed, connected to various medical devices, his condition clearly fragile. An IV drip was attached to his arm, and he appeared heavily sedated.
Rhodey approached Tony's bedside, his concern for his friend evident as he adjusted a tube away from Tony's face. Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn't help but inject a touch of humor into the grim atmosphere.
"You look like crap," he remarked to Tony before turning his gaze toward Faith. "So, do you, though slightly better than your father."
Faith sighed in response, a mixture of exhaustion and relief coloring her voice. "Yeah," she replied, her weariness evident.
Tony managed a pained but lighthearted smile, his sense of humor undiminished even in his weakened state. "Thanks. Party in Dubai got a little out of control. Totally worth it, though. You should've been there. Great canapés."
Rhodey's gaze remained fixed on Tony, his stern expression betraying his concern and the gravity of the situation. He was not one to mince words, and his directness cut through the room's tension.
"I know what you and Faith were up to, Tony," Rhodey asserted, keeping the focus squarely on the father and daughter.
Willow, her curiosity piqued, interjected with a question. "Yeah? What were they up to?"
Rhodey didn't hesitate in his response, his unwavering gaze firmly on Tony and Faith as he revealed the extent of his knowledge. "About mach one point seven. It was you two in the armors. I saw the whole thing from Edwards."
Tony's voice, weakened and barely audible, carried a touch of pride as he acknowledged their actions. "Faith and I did pretty good, didn't we?"
Rhodey's stern demeanor remained unchanged as he pressed further. "Which of you was the one that got blown out of the sky?" he inquired, his gaze shifting to Faith as she raised her arm. He then turned his pointed gaze back to Tony. "You call your daughter getting blown out of the sky 'pretty good'?"
"Next time we won't play so nice with your planes," Tony's response, delivered with a veneer of humor, held a hint of seriousness that unsettled Pepper.
Rhodey had moved a chair to Tony's bedside, his expression deadly serious as he continued to address them. "I respect what you two did. You both ended a nightmare over there. Showed a real warrior's heart. But the way you both did it—you can't go it alone like that."
Faith's response carried a hint of defiance as she countered, "We weren't alone. We had each other. We also had Willow on comms."
Willow chimed in with a reminder, her concern for Faith evident in her voice. "Up until you got blown out of the sky. From that point on, you had me worried. Remember?"
Tony's voice, though weak and strained, carried a profound sense of gratitude as he sipped water from the glass on the nearby table. He acknowledged the unwavering support of Faith and Willow with a simple, heartfelt question.
"You got our backs, right?" Tony inquired, turning to Rhodey.
Rhodey's response was resolute, a testament to the unbreakable bond between them. "Yeah," he affirmed. "We ride together, pal. Even if it's straight to the brig."
Tony nodded in understanding, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. It seemed that their friendship could weather any storm, no matter how dire the circumstances.
As Tony began to drift into a restless sleep, he stirred once more, his voice barely above a whisper as he addressed Rhodey with heartfelt words of appreciation.
"I never said thank you," Tony admitted, his gratitude pouring forth.
Rhodey, ever loyal and understanding, sought clarification. "For what?"
Tony's response held a deep sincerity that resonated with the weight of their recent trials. "For saving mine and Faith's lives," he whispered, his vulnerability shining through.
Rhodey held up two fingers, a wry smile on his face. "It was twice, actually."
Tony's smile in response was a testament to their enduring friendship, even amidst the chaos and danger that had surrounded them. With a tired sigh, Tony succumbed to sleep, his body and mind needing the respite.
Turning to Pepper, Rhodey sought reassurance. "Are we okay? You and I, I mean."
Pepper stood there in contemplation for a long moment, her arms folded as she weighed her feelings and the complexities of their situation. Finally, she nodded toward Tony. "When he's okay, you and I are okay. Until then..." She shrugged, leaving her words unfinished as she turned and walked away, her emotions too tumultuous to express in that moment.
"Fair enough," Rhodey replied, understanding the unspoken agreement. He then redirected his attention to Faith and Willow, seeking to gauge their feelings and the state of their relationships amid the trials they had endured.
"What about you two?" he inquired, his concern extending to the young couple who had faced their own share of challenges.
Faith exchanged a glance with Willow, their bond evident in the unspoken communication that passed between them. They had weathered this storm together, their love and commitment tested, and their response was in harmony.
"We're five by five," Faith said, her voice reflecting both exhaustion and determination. She squeezed Willow's hand, a silent reassurance that spoke volumes.
Willow nodded in agreement; her eyes filled with unwavering support for her girlfriend. "Yeah, we're in this together," she affirmed, her tone carrying the conviction of their shared experiences.
Rhodey's expression softened as he observed the resilience of the young couple. It was clear that their love had only deepened through adversity, and he respected their bond.
"That's good to hear," he replied, a sense of relief washing over him.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
The subbasement beneath the building, which housed the Arc reactor, was a labyrinth of darkness, devoid of windows, and filled with an intricate network of pipes that supplied steam, electricity, and various utilities to the entire facility. It was a place untouched by human presence, even by the maintenance crews, since the building itself had long been abandoned.
Obadiah Stane, a man driven by ambition and hidden agendas, had claimed this subterranean realm as his own. Here, he assembled a group of elite engineers, carefully selected for their brilliance, discretion, and the convenient absence of close family members who might question their mysterious work. Stane was a man of calculated caution, and he left nothing to chance.
Within the dimly lit chamber, fragments of the gray armor hung suspended at various points, like eerie trophies from a battle that remained concealed from the world. Nearby, a skeletal framework stood, the earliest beginnings of another suit of armor. In its embryonic stage, it was impossible to discern the final form it would take.
"We've made progress," Stane declared to his assembled team, his voice resonating with a sense of urgency and purpose. "But we're going to have to dig deeper—redouble our efforts. The stakes couldn't be higher."
The chief engineer, Layton, a seasoned man with a salt-and-pepper beard and an air of apprehension about him, voiced the concerns that weighed on their collective minds. "Sir, we're still having trouble with the propulsion."
Stane waved off their concerns about the power issue as though it were an inconsequential hiccup in their grand plan, rather than the significant obstacle that it truly was. He spoke with an air of nonchalance, as if the solution to their problems was glaringly obvious, just waiting to be seized.
"The power, the power," Stane said dismissively, as if the answer was self-evident. "There is no problem. The solution," he proclaimed, extending his arms in a sweeping gesture, "the source, the answer... is right above us."
Circling around the engineers, Stane spoke with a rapid and unwavering confidence, rallying his team with fervor. He tapped into their collective sense of pride and purpose, painting a picture of a world-transforming opportunity.
"Listen, gentlemen. Civilization has been preserved by the right people having the right idea at the right time. Technology like this comes along once in a generation—and it's a gift that's been put in our hands. That's because we have a vision—a vision for the future of this company, of this nation, and of the world order."
The engineers nodded in agreement, their egos massaged by Stane's words. He knew how to manipulate their deepest insecurities and desires, and their conviction that they were the best and the brightest was a weakness he could exploit to his advantage.
"Make no mistake," Stane continued, his voice dripping with gravitas. "The tool that you are creating, in the wrong hands, could jeopardize civilization as we know it. That's why it's our responsibility to build it first. Are we all agreed?"
They nodded in unison, their faith in Stane's leadership solidified. He clapped his hands together with brisk finality.
"Let's get to work," he declared, setting the stage for their relentless pursuit of a power source that lay just beyond their grasp, a power that held the potential to reshape the world.
January 3, 2006 – Tuesday
Faith and Willow sat in Tony's room, bathed in the soft glow of the television screen mounted on the wall. The room was cloaked in a hushed tension, their fingers interlocked as they awaited the commencement of the press conference.
The backdrop on the television displayed the iconic landmarks of Washington, D.C., with the imposing Washington Monument and the White House serving as a backdrop for the momentous occasion. Reporters from various news outlets crowded the room, their equipment poised to capture every word and image.
As the President of the United States approached the podium, clearing his throat to address the nation, the room fell into a reverent silence, the only sound being the faint hum of the television.
"Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of this great nation," the President began, his voice imbued with gravitas, "today, I stand before you to address a matter of utmost importance—one that has been the subject of much debate and deliberation."
Faith's grip on Willow's hand tightened, her eyes locked onto the screen, anticipation and nervousness coursing through her.
"As President of the United States," the President continued, "it is my duty to uphold justice and fairness. Today, I am announcing a presidential pardon for Isabella Maria Stark, who also goes by her adopted name of Faith Lehane. She has demonstrated exceptional courage and dedication to the values that our nation holds dear."
Willow's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as the weight of the announcement settled upon her. Faith's heart swelled with a mix of relief and disbelief. She had doubted the possibility of this moment ever arriving, but Coulson's assurances had proven true.
"We recognize that Ms. Stark has been a key figure in extraordinary circumstances," the President acknowledged, his words a ray of hope for the Slayer. "In her actions, she has shown a commitment to protecting our world from threats that most of us cannot even comprehend."
The room held its collective breath as the President's speech continued, the significance of the moment seeping into their very souls.
"As of this moment," the President declared, "Isabella Maria Stark's past offenses are hereby pardoned, and her record is cleared. We extend our gratitude to her for her sacrifices and for standing as a beacon of hope in our fight against the darkness."
Tears welled up in Faith's eyes, cascading down her cheeks as the burden of her past transgressions began to lift, making way for the promise of a brighter, more hopeful future. The weight that had hung over her for so long had been lifted, and the path ahead was illuminated with newfound possibilities.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Tony awoke with a shudder, momentarily disoriented about his surroundings. The fact that he found himself lying in his bedroom, tethered to a web of machines monitoring every breath he took, carried a surreal quality, especially considering the extraordinary circumstances that had led him here. He and Faith had embarked on a daring mission, each clad in their customized armored suits, in a single-handed attempt to change the world for the better.
As Tony's bleary eyes focused, he turned his gaze toward the mirror across the room. His reflection revealed a figure that looked frail and forlorn, connected to an array of IV tubes and medical equipment that emitted a chorus of pings and hisses. The contrast between his usual charismatic, confident self and his current vulnerable state was striking and unsettling.
A whirlwind of emotions churned within him as he grappled with the consequences of their audacious actions. Regret and determination intertwined, and Tony understood that he had walked a perilous path that had exacted a heavy toll.
Surveying the room, his gaze fell upon Faith, his daughter, sitting in the loving embrace of Willow's lap. Both women were sound asleep, their faces adorned with serene smiles, as if they shared dreams of a brighter future.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Pepper's heart raced, and she felt as though a vein in her temple might burst as she stood at the threshold of Tony's workshop, utterly flabbergasted by what she beheld.
Tony was seated in an oversized chair, the IV still attached to his arm, and bandages visible on his upper body. It was the only acknowledgment he made to the fact that, in her eyes, he was being held together by sheer willpower and makeshift repairs. Pepper couldn't help but be alarmed as she observed him.
Faith's damaged suit hung suspended from a chain winch, a stark testament to the recent turmoil they had endured. Tony had already cannibalized sections of it and repurposed them into a mysterious device whose function eluded Pepper entirely.
She had gone up to his bedroom to check on him, only to discover Faith and Willow sound asleep in the chair while Tony was conspicuously absent. She had feared the worst and, against her better judgment, ventured to his workshop. Now, her disbelief was rapidly morphing into deep concern.
As if everything were entirely normal, Tony addressed her without looking away from his work. "This device will hack into the Stark Industries mainframe. I need you to go there and retrieve all shipping manifests."
Pepper approached him slowly, her emotions roiling inside her, causing her to tremble with frustration and worry. "What are you doing?" Her voice quivered with anxiety. When he didn't respond, the realization hit her that he had no intention of answering her question. It was only then that the gravity of his request fully registered.
"Absolutely not! You should be in bed," Pepper insisted vehemently, her concern for his well-being overriding any sense of deference.
"They've been dealing weapons under the table, and Faith and I are going to stop them," Tony declared, his determination unwavering despite the perilous condition of his own health.
Pepper took a deep, steadying breath, recognizing that she needed to maintain her composure in this rapidly escalating situation. Tony's behavior had taken a concerning turn, and it was clear she had a critical role to play in guiding him back to reason.
"Look... if you want to access the Stark mainframe, can't you have Willow do it from here?" Pepper suggested, trying to find an alternative. "I mean, she did hack into the FBI back in high school."
Tony regarded her with a mixture of exasperation and determination. "Yes, she could. But if she put all my resources into it, all her effort, and didn't sleep for the next three weeks, at the end of those three weeks, she might find a way to crack through the firewalls I built to make the system bulletproof against exactly the type of thing you just suggested. But I don't have that kind of time, so I need your help—"
Pepper interjected firmly; her voice laced with resolve. "I'm not helping you with anything if you and Faith are going to start this again."
Willow's unexpected response caught Pepper off guard as she entered the workshop with Faith. "Then I will do it. I am the head of Stark Industries R&D Department. If you won't, Pepper, I will."
The statement from Willow left Pepper momentarily stunned. She had anticipated the redhead would support her stance, but Willow's loyalty to Tony and Faith seemed unwavering.
"There's no art opening," Tony explained with a sense of urgency. "There's no benefit. There's nothing to sign. There are no decisions to be made. There's only the next mission and nothing else." He pointed across the room and Pepper saw that Jarvis was machine-shopping what looked like a newly created armored suit to replace Faith's damaged one.
Pepper's patience finally wore thin, and she couldn't bear the gravity of the situation any longer. "I quit," she declared, her resignation echoing through the room.
"Really?" Tony, Faith, and Willow chimed in unison, their surprise evident as Pepper took her stand.
With determined steps, Pepper began to walk away from them, intent on leaving the tense situation behind. However, her path was suddenly blocked by Faith, who stood in her way, preventing her exit. Faith's gaze bore into Pepper as she questioned her intentions. "You want to tell us what's going through your mind? Why are you about to walk out?"
Pepper drew in a deep breath, her voice laced with concern and frustration as she answered, "You two are going to kill yourselves. I can't support that. I don't see how Willow can support that."
Willow nodded in agreement with Pepper's sentiments. "I don't, Pepper," she admitted, her tone tinged with sadness. "But I understand what they have to do. Because I've been in their shoes. You know when I graduated high school, I had offers from colleges all across the country, even some in Europe. Do you know why I chose to stay in Sunnydale?"
Perplexed, Pepper shook her head. "No," she replied, eager to understand Willow's perspective.
"I had been pondering what I wanted to do with my life," Willow explained. "And I realized that what I wanted to do was fight evil, to help people. I believed it was worth doing. I didn't think Buffy did it just because she had to. I saw it as a noble cause, a good fight, and I wanted to be a part of it."
"Pepper... I understand what Faith and I have to do. I don't know if we can succeed, but deep down, I know it's the right thing," Tony confessed earnestly, his determination shining through his words. He paused for a moment, grappling with the weight of what he was about to say. "And, you know, we can't do it without you and Willow."
Pepper sighed inwardly; her inner turmoil evident. In that moment, she remained steadfast in her opposition to every aspect of Tony's plan. However, a sinking feeling told her that it was only a matter of time before she would inevitably yield to the irrefutable truth of Tony's words.
Willow interjected; her voice infused with a sense of resolve. "I'll tell you what," she offered. "I'll go with you if it will help. If, by some chance, you get caught, it won't be just your neck on the line; it'll be mine too."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Pepper walked alongside Willow, her demeanor rigid and nervous. She couldn't help but react with a start at every greeting she received from a colleague, her unease palpable. She felt like exactly what she was: an intruder navigating through the shadows.
Willow's hushed voice reached her ears, attempting to soothe her frazzled nerves. "You need to calm your nerves, Pepper," she whispered.
Pepper replied in a tense tone, "Easy for you to say." She couldn't shake the discomfort that had settled over her like a heavy shroud.
Upon entering Tony's office, Pepper took a seat at his computer, while Willow stationed herself near the door, vigilant and watchful. Pepper powered up the computer and established an online connection before retrieving a small device from her purse, roughly the size of a jump drive.
"Just out of curiosity, Willow," Pepper inquired, her fingers poised over the keyboard, "how long do you think it could take you to hack in here if you had to?"
Willow considered the question thoughtfully, her mind calculating the possibilities. "It depends on the security measures Tony installed," she responded. "I could eventually break through given enough time."
"Is that with or without magic?" Pepper inquired, her hands trembling as she connected the hacking device to the port Tony had instructed her to use. The computer screen flickered as the process began.
Willow replied, "Without. I try not to use magic like that anymore. It can be quite addicting. Has Faith told you about my first girlfriend?"
Pepper shook her head, her attention focused on the rapidly unfolding hack as Obadiah Stane's account information began to appear. The hacking device sliced through Stane's personal passwords, firewalls, and security nets with impressive speed.
"No," Pepper replied, her curiosity piqued by Willow's revelation.
Willow continued, her voice carrying a hint of sorrow. "I slowly became addicted during the year leading up to her death. When Tara was killed, I went off the deep end. I went after her killer in revenge, and I succeeded. But it wasn't enough. Then I went after his friends, who, thanks to Buffy, managed to escape. After that, I tried to end the world. It was only thanks to Xander that I was pulled back from the brink."
Pepper efficiently packed Tony's personal items into a small cardboard box, her eyes repeatedly darting toward the monitor. The hacking device Tony had provided was penetrating deep into the heart of the system, relentlessly extracting vital information from Obadiah Stane's hard drive. It was like a mosquito draining the lifeblood from its prey.
Amidst her task, Pepper listened intently to Willow's narrative, her understanding of the redhead's journey deepening. Willow's description of her transformation and her newfound purpose resonated with Pepper, emphasizing the profound changes she had undergone.
"After that, Giles took me to England, where I learned about the way magic is supposed to be," Willow continued. "The way Tara always tried to get me to see. For a while, I was afraid to use any magic. But when I cast the spell to activate all the Potentials around the world as Slayers, I felt transcended, forgiven, purified. Since then, I've only used magic for the benefit of others, not for myself."
Suddenly, the hacking device abruptly halted, causing Pepper's heart to skip a beat. Her anxiety dissipated when a prompt appeared on the screen, a reminder of Tony's instructions.
With determined precision, Pepper manipulated the cursor and selected the "Copy All" command. "Copy everything," she instructed the computer.
As Pepper continued to observe the rapidly scrolling information on the screen, she couldn't help but feel a sense of overwhelming dread wash over her. The data before her painted a grim picture—orders for Jericho missiles, shipping manifests, and records of items that hadn't gone to any branch of the United States Armed Forces but had ended up in the hands of private organizations. These organizations, Pepper suspected, were nothing more than fronts, concealing the true purpose of their existence: funneling weaponry to terrorists.
The realization hit Pepper like a ton of bricks. It was a harsh reminder that the very company she had worked for, Stark Industries, had a hand in creating these lethal weapons. She couldn't help but empathize with Tony and Faith, understanding the moral dilemma they faced as their company's dark secrets were laid bare.
"What are you doing, Obadiah?" Pepper muttered in astonishment, her voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and anger.
Willow's voice broke through the tension. "I take it you're getting what we need?" she inquired, her eyes on Pepper.
Pepper didn't immediately respond, her attention suddenly drawn to something specific on the screen. The display in Tony's office was now mirroring the one in Stane's office. She noticed a video clip icon with Arabic text beneath it. Unwilling to wait for the download to complete, she moved the cursor and double-clicked on the icon.
What unfolded on the screen made Pepper gasp audibly, and her stomach churned with a sense of dread. It was a grainy video clip featuring Tony, his appearance haggard and frail as he sat tied to a chair. His tattered shirt bore a dark stain that was unmistakably his own blood. Several insurgents were visible, and a flag with ten interlocking rings served as a haunting backdrop.
"What?" Willow inquired when Pepper remained silent, her curiosity piqued. Stepping closer to the computer screen, Willow's eyes widened as she, too, beheld the distressing footage.
Pepper couldn't help but express her astonishment, her voice filled with a mix of awe and concern. "It's astounding that Tony came out of that as intact as he did," she admitted.
Willow nodded in agreement; her thoughts aligned with Pepper's. "Faith, too," she added. "Considering she had been there for a month longer than Tony; her resilience is remarkable."
As the gravity of their conversation deepened, Pepper's inquisitive nature took over. She furrowed her brow, considering a puzzling aspect of the situation. "You know, I've been thinking about that," she mused aloud. "Why did the same people who took Tony also take Faith? It's quite a significant coincidence that both father and daughter were captured by the same individuals within a month of each other."
Willow's eyes narrowed in thoughtful contemplation as she pondered Pepper's observation. It was indeed a perplexing coincidence, and one that warranted further examination. "You're right, Pepper," she agreed, her mind churning with possibilities. "It does seem highly unlikely that both Tony and Faith were independently targeted by the same group within such a short timeframe. There must be a connection, a reason behind it."
Pepper and Willow returned their focus to the monitor, their curiosity piqued by the unfolding revelation. As the insurgents conversed heatedly in their native language, Pepper instructed the computer to provide a translation, utilizing its audio response technology.
The contrast between the man's frenzied rant on screen and the calm, detached electronic voice of the computer was surreal. The translated message shed light on the disturbing situation, leaving Pepper and Willow stunned.
"Obadiah Stane, you have deceived us! The price to kill Tony Stark as well as the price to give Isabella Stark to the demon Cristos has just gone up."
The shock on Pepper and Willow's faces mirrored their profound sense of disbelief. The implications of the message were both ominous and baffling.
The man on the screen continued his tirade, spewing a litany of grievances that, even in translation, appeared nonsensical and deranged. It became increasingly evident that the man was unhinged, and it was in his hands that Tony and Faith had been held captive for an extended period.
Pepper couldn't help but express her amazement at the resilience displayed by Tony and Faith during their captivity. "My God, if I'd come back from that," she remarked, "I wouldn't have called a press conference. I'd have curled up into a ball under a bed for a year."
Willow nodded in agreement, her understanding of Faith's character lending insight into the situation. "If Tony is anything like Faith," she began, "that's not something that would ever happen. Faith's a fighter. The only reason she sided with the Mayor was because of circumstances. Ever since her adoptive parents abused her growing up, she's been looking out for herself."
As Pepper and Willow continued to scrutinize the scrolling items on the screen, they stumbled upon more intriguing and unsettling discoveries. Schematics resembling Tony and Faith's armor caught their attention, but these were labeled as "Iron Monger," a name unfamiliar to them despite their comprehensive knowledge of Stark Industries' ongoing projects. Additionally, they found layouts for a room filled with pipes.
Pepper couldn't help but wonder aloud, her finger pointing at the layouts, "Is that the subbasement at the Arc generator?"
Willow joined in, confessing her relative unfamiliarity with the specifics of Stark Industries' physical locations. "I don't know," she admitted. "I spend most of my time working remotely from Tony's house. I rarely set foot in here unless it's necessary to oversee an R&D project."
Their examination was suddenly interrupted by a voice emanating from the doorway, "So…" Both women jumped in surprise, and Pepper accidentally banged her knee against the underside of the desk. She fought to maintain a facade of composure, despite the pain and the rising sense of panic that threatened to engulf her.
Turning their gaze toward the intruder, Pepper and Willow were met with the sight of Obadiah Stane, who stood in the doorway, holding a drink and wearing a smile that, in the past, they might have interpreted as benevolence. However, their recent revelations had unveiled a darker truth behind that facade.
Stane's presence sent shivers down their spines, and the question he posed only heightened their unease. "What should we do about this?" he inquired; his tone laden with ominous implications.
As the monitor continued to unveil Obadiah Stane's closely guarded secrets, Pepper and Willow watched in apprehension, unsure of how long their covert operation would remain undetected. Stane, situated on the other side of the monitor, remained oblivious to the unfolding events.
Pepper hesitated, her voice laden with tension as she began, "Obadiah..."
A heavy, oppressive silence hung in the air for a brief moment, and then Stane entered the office and discreetly closed the door, sealing them in with him. Pepper's grip on the armrests of her chair tightened as anxiety swelled within her.
Sensing Pepper's growing distress, Willow reached out telepathically, using a small spell she had learned from Tara years ago. Her reassuring message echoed in Pepper's mind, urging her to relax.
Meanwhile, Stane casually made his way across the room to Tony's wet bar. The data continued to scroll on the monitor, and unbeknownst to Stane, his most sensitive information was being laid bare before Pepper and Willow's eyes. His nonchalant demeanor, contrasting with the impending revelation, only added to the tension in the room.
With a veneer of politeness, Stane offered, "Drink?" as he held up an empty glass.
Willow, her heart pounding, felt a sense of unease creeping over her as she replied, "Sure."
"That would be great," Pepper said, her fingers trembling as they flew across the keyboard. By the time Obadiah came around the desk, two glasses of Scotch for Pepper and Willow in his hand, the monitor screen was filled with Google want ads.
He sat on the edge of the desk, sipping his glass, and the room seemed to grow colder, the tension thickening. Five inches away, the hack drive was downloading, its single tiny LCD pulsing steadily to indicate the job was in progress. Pepper and Willow exchanged anxious glances, their bodies frozen in fear, unsure of what small gesture of body language might tip Stane off to what was going on.
"I know what you're going through, Pepper. I know how lonely you feel," Stane went on, his voice tinged with a haunting sadness. "The two of us—we're the only ones who know what this is like. I was so happy when he came home." He then glanced at Willow; his gaze filled with a strange mixture of emotions. "Just as I am sure you were happy when Faith came home."
Willow and Pepper shared a glance, their eyes reflecting their skepticism, doubting that Stane was genuinely happy about either Tony or Faith's return.
"It was like we got them back from the dead," Stane said, his voice quivering with unspoken grief. "Now I realize… Tony and Faith never really came home, did they? They both left part of themselves back in that cave. It breaks my heart."
The hack drive chose that moment to get loud. It whirred and ground for a few seconds, perhaps sensing the tension in the room or having its own little meltdown over Stane's emotional confessions.
Stane glanced around, unsure where the noise had just come from, and Pepper spoke quickly: "Willow and I don't know where their head's at. Tony hasn't opened up to me, and Faith hasn't opened up to Willow," she said, her voice tinged with frustration, even sympathy, as she carefully chose her words.
Pepper had risen from the chair when she spoke, and now she walked toward the window, moving with deliberate grace to draw Stane's attention away from the computer. She accentuated the thrust of her hips, hoping to distract him. "They're going through a rough patch. I think what they need is time."
"I have to agree with Pepper," Willow chimed in, following Pepper's lead as they both moved towards the window, mimicking each other's movements. They could feel Stane's gaze on them, and neither of them liked the way he was leaning in their direction.
"You two are rare women," Stane said, his words oozing with a mix of flattery and manipulation. "Tony and Faith don't know how lucky they are." He then put an arm around both Pepper and Willow, drawing them tightly against him. He did it sideways, leaving room for ambiguity, whether it was platonic affection or something more.
Willow, who had considered herself gay for six years, had to hide a bit of revulsion while Pepper's hand trembled as she downed her drink in one shot. Then, Pepper forced herself to turn toward him and smile. "Thank you, Obadiah."
Since Stane was being given nothing to react to, he had no choice but to smile wanly and say, "Come on. I'll walk you two out." He released his hold on them, his curiosity and suspicion still simmering beneath the surface. He then picked up the box of personal effects Pepper had been putting together. Yes, granted, there were some things in there Tony had wanted, but he didn't really need any of it. It had been merely their cover to avoid arousing suspicion about their presence. But now, the act of picking up the box brought him dangerously close to the small but noticeable hack drive.
Willow's heart raced as she glanced at the hack drive, uncertain if it had finished its work. She knew that if she or Pepper didn't grab it now, Stane would surely notice it. She moved quickly, praying that her actions didn't seem too abrupt, and palmed the hack drive just as he lifted the box. Willow had no idea if he'd seen her do it, and she braced herself for a demand of, "What's that in your hand?" Instead, he simply turned away, cradling the box of personal effects.
Before Stane could react, Pepper took the box from him. "It's okay. I've got it," said Pepper, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. "And Willow and I can see ourselves out. Good night, Obadiah."
His confusion was evident on his face as Pepper and Willow walked out of the office as quickly as they could. Stane watched them go, his mind a whirlwind of uncertainty and suspicion.
Obadiah Stane slumped into the chair behind Tony's desk, feeling a little woozy from the Scotch he had consumed. There was a warning sensation niggling in the back of his head, trying to tell him that something had just happened here, something that had slipped right past him. As he pondered what had transpired, a sense of unease settled over him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.
As bleary as his mind was, he forced himself to run the events of the past few minutes through his head, trying to piece together the puzzle. He replayed for himself everything that Pepper and Willow had said, everything they had done, everywhere they had looked...
Slowly, his attention swiveled to the computer. Experimentally, he called up the screen with his own account and checked to see the last time he had been on.
According to the time log, he had logged off less than a minute earlier.
No one had ever sobered up quite as quickly as Obadiah Stane did at that moment as he started checking through his account's recent activity. His face drained of color as he saw all the delicate files that had just been opened... opened and...
"Copied?" he muttered, his voice filled with disbelief and anger.
"Son of a—" He snarled and leaped up from behind the desk. "Pepper! Ms. Rosenberg!"
Except he knew it wasn't them, or at least not just them. They were merely the puppets. Tony and Faith were the puppeteers.
Still, there was no reason he couldn't cut their strings just the same. He bolted from the room and headed for the atrium balcony that overlooked the main lobby. He arrived with such speed that he had to grab the railing, lest he take a header over the edge. He got there just in time to see Pepper and Willow walking across the lobby, Pepper carrying the box, heading for the door.
"Pepper! Ms. Rosenberg!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the lobby.
Pepper and Willow glanced at each other as they heard Stane's voice. They looked up and saw him glowering down at them from the balcony. The security guard at the front desk who had just waved to Pepper and Willow as they passed now saw Stane scowling down and then looked at Pepper and Willow suspiciously.
For a moment, the pleasant mask that Stane had been wearing to cover what he really was slipped. The true Obadiah Stane looked out at them with eyes as cold as the nothingness of an empty heart.
"Ms. Potts. Ms. Rosenberg," another voice came from behind them. They felt besieged from all around... and suddenly they recognized the voice.
"Agent Coulson!" Pepper exclaimed as if she'd suddenly run into her best friend from high school. "Federal Agent Coulson!" She made sure to add particular emphasis to that first word.
Stane froze, his mouth hanging open, his unspoken command to the guard lingering in the air. Pepper and Willow stood firmly by Coulson's side, their arms wrapped around his elbow, their faces a mix of determination and confusion. Coulson, taken aback by their unexpected actions, questioned them.
"Ms. Potts, Ms. Rosenberg, did you two forget our appointment?" Coulson asked, clearly trying to make sense of the situation.
"Appointment," Willow mouthed to Pepper in confusion.
"Forgot to tell you," Pepper mouthed back before refocusing on Coulson. "No, of course not. We've been very much looking forward to it," she replied, with Willow nodding along in agreement. "Let's… why don't we do this somewhere else?"
Pepper and Willow continued to guide Coulson forcefully toward the door, their eyes darting nervously toward Stane, who remained rooted to the spot, watching them intently.
Once they were out in the courtyard, Pepper's trembling became so severe that she dropped the box, and Coulson caught it. "We have to get back to Tony and Faith..." she said, her voice quivering with urgency.
"Ms. Potts, Ms. Rosenberg, I think you both need to tell me what's going on before we get back to anyone." Coulson's typically laconic manner had disappeared, replaced by a sharp and forceful tone. He caught Pepper and Willow by the arm, preventing them from darting past him. "All right, that's it. You two are coming with me. And Ms. Rosenberg, I would highly suggest that you refrain from using any magic."
Pepper and Willow exchanged worried glances, second-guessing their decision to involve Coulson. "We can't go anywhere with you. Tony and Faith are…" Willow began.
"We have our suspicions about Mr. Stark, and frankly, Miss Potts, Miss Rosenberg, we're wondering if you two are not complicit—" Coulson's words were cut short when he noticed Willow placing an earpiece in her ear. His suspicion deepened. "What's that?" he demanded.
"Wireless cell," Willow replied defiantly. "I'm calling Tony and Faith to warn them, but not about you. Jarvis! I need to speak to Tony or Faith!" she said into the earpiece.
Coulson swiftly reached up and pulled the earpiece from Willow's ear, his expression stern as he locked eyes with both Pepper and Willow. "Ms. Potts, Ms. Rosenberg, we're concerned that your boss has been flipped."
"Flipped?" Pepper protested. "You're the one who's flipped. Obadiah Stane has—"
"This isn't about Obadiah Stane. This is about the man who was captured by enemy operatives, then returned to this country and announced he wasn't making weapons anymore," Coulson explained firmly. "That indicates to us at least a seventy-three percent chance that he has been brainwashed into having sympathies for the enemy."
"If that's true, why aren't you worried about Faith then?" Willow interjected. "She was held by the same people who captured Tony. Why give her a pardon for the things in Sunnydale?"
Coulson's steely resolve didn't waver as he responded to Willow's question. "Miss Rosenberg, we have our reasons to believe that Ms. Lehane's situation is more complex than it appears. There are factors at play that I can't disclose at this moment, but rest assured, our agency is monitoring her closely."
"Here's a stat for you! There's a one hundred percent chance that you're an idiot!" Pepper shot back, her frustration boiling over.
Before a stunned Coulson could respond, Willow held up the hack drive. "It's Stane. The proof of it is right here."
"Then we'll take it back to headquarters and check it out. If it backs up what you're saying…" Coulson began to explain.
"We don't have time—!" Pepper protested.
But her words were cut short by the sound of several doors slamming. Pepper and Willow turned to see two black Crown Victorias pulling up, and five more individuals, all dressed similarly to Coulson, stepping out of them.
"We're making the time," Coulson asserted firmly, his team closing in around him.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
"Out of time, out of time, thanks to them we're out of time." The mantra echoed relentlessly in Stane's mind as he rushed to the laboratory beneath the Arc reactor building. Pepper and Willow possessed the evidence, and they had the ear of a federal agent. All Stane had was a nonfunctional armored suit and a squad of scientists he desperately hoped had made a breakthrough.
His luck, however, remained consistent.
Layton stood before the armor, looking like a tribal primitive attempting to decipher a Cray supercomputer. Dark circles marred his eyes, signs of sleepless nights. "There's no technology that can power this thing," Layton admitted.
"I told you," Stane responded in a flat, angry tone, as though scolding a disobedient child caught with chocolate smeared across their face, "miniaturize the Arc reactor."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Stane, I've tried," Layton confessed, fatigue making him speak more bluntly than usual. "I've driven my team to insane lengths and beyond. Specs and formulas... they're floating in front of my eyeballs like gnats. Look there." He pointed. "There's an equation for revised power couplings that went nowhere, drifting past." Closing his eyes momentarily, he steadied himself. "What you're asking for can't be done."
"Tony Stark, with the help of his daughter, was able to do it in a cave, with a box of scraps," Stane retorted.
"Well," Layton sighed, "I'm not Tony or Isabella Stark, sir."
Stane stared at him for a long, contemplative moment, then said, "No. You're not. In the end, there's only one Tony and Isabella Stark." He paused and added, "You know what, Layton? Don't worry about it. You tried your best. Go home, get some sleep. Get a life."
Layton was visibly taken aback by Stane's unexpected response, perhaps anticipating a more scathing and angry reaction. But there was no point in that.
Because Stane had reluctantly spoken a truth he had long avoided. To get what he needed he had to go to the father-daughter duo and take it from Tony himself.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Tony and Faith were deeply engrossed in their work in the workshop when the power unexpectedly started to diminish.
"What gives, Jarvis?" Faith asked, frustration evident in her voice.
"Your father has a visitor, Ms. Stark," Jarvis replied with his usual calm tone. "Obadiah Stane is here."
Tony and Faith exchanged a quick, worried glance. They instantly regretted not having updated Jarvis on the current situation with Obadiah Stane. If they had, Jarvis could have taken steps to ensure Stane didn't gain access to the house.
"Fine," Tony said with a sigh, putting aside his tools. Father and daughter exchanged a few quick words, a silent communication of shared concern, before heading out of the workshop to confront the unexpected visitor.
As they left, Jarvis spoke up again. "Ms. Stark, Ms. Rosenberg tried to contact you. The call went dead before I had a chance to reply."
Tony and Faith shared another concerned look. Faith spoke firmly, determination in her voice. "After we've dealt with Stane, I'll call Willow, Jarvis."