Chapter 19: Stark Expo Part 2
May 12, 2010 – Wednesday
Stark Expo
Willow flew low across the expo grounds, her Iron Witch armor humming as the magical runes inscribed into the suit flared in tandem with its technological components. The drone behind her was relentless, its targeting systems locked onto her, spitting a barrage of bullets and small rockets in her direction. She dodged sharply to the right, the missiles missing her by mere inches, exploding into a shower of debris against a nearby structure. The shockwave rattled her, but she steadied herself with a burst of thrusters.
"C'mon, c'mon..." Willow muttered under her breath, narrowing her focus. She needed to be smarter, faster. She angled herself up, climbing quickly into the sky, her armored form cutting through the smoke and chaos of the battlefield. The drone followed doggedly, its sensors whirring as it adjusted for her sudden elevation. Willow could feel its presence like a shadow, hovering just behind her, its weapons primed to fire the moment she made a mistake.
But mistakes weren't part of the plan.
At the apex of her climb, she suddenly cut the thrusters, letting herself drop like a stone. The drone, unable to immediately adjust, shot past her, its sensors scrambling to relocate her. Willow twisted mid-air, her heart pounding as gravity pulled her down, and she stretched out one hand. Magical energy surged through her arm, a flash of violet light sparking from her gauntlet.
"Let's see how you handle this," she whispered, unleashing a blast of raw energy. The drone's targeting systems fizzled and flickered, its sleek frame juddering as it struggled to recalibrate under the magical interference.
Willow didn't let up. As she fell toward the ground, she focused her will on the rubble below. The twisted metal beams and concrete debris, remnants of the earlier explosions, responded to her magic, lifting into the air as if pulled by invisible strings. With a flick of her hand, the debris shot forward, hurtling toward the drone just as it regained its sensors.
The drone swerved too late. A massive chunk of metal slammed into it from the side, followed by several more pieces of jagged debris, overwhelming the drone's automated defense systems. Its engines sputtered, its sleek body contorted as it tried to stabilize, but Willow was already in motion again.
As the ground rushed up to meet her, she reactivated her thrusters, pulling up just in time to avoid a crash. Behind her, the drone's damaged frame careened off course, smashing into the side of an expo building. The explosion was instantaneous, a ball of fire and metal tearing through the structure as the drone disintegrated on impact.
Willow hovered for a moment, catching her breath. The sky above her was still thick with smoke and fire, but one less drone was in the fight. She smiled grimly.
"One more down," she muttered, her eyes narrowing as she turned her attention to the last remaining drone. "One more to go."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Faith soared through the smoke-choked air, her heart pounding in time with the rhythmic hum of the suit's thrusters. The three drones trailing her were tenacious, peppering her path with bullets and rockets. She'd taken out one already, but the remaining two weren't giving her a moment's peace. Each round of gunfire pinged off her suit's outer plating, the HUD flashing warnings as the impacts sent tremors through her body.
"Damn, these things don't give up," Faith muttered, tightening her grip on the suit's controls as she swerved through the ruins of the Expo. Her mind raced, calculating her next move. She couldn't outrun them forever, and she sure as hell wasn't about to let them pick her off.
She banked hard to the right, diving low toward a cluster of smoldering buildings. The drones followed relentlessly, their targeting systems never losing track, spitting streams of gunfire that ripped through the ground and buildings around her. Faith gritted her teeth, swerving between the skeletal remains of what had once been exhibition halls and tech labs.
"Jarvis," she called, glancing at the drone on her tail, "Give me a damage assessment on that lead one."
"The forward drone has sustained minor structural damage to its left propulsion unit, Miss Faith," Jarvis reported smoothly. "It appears to be operating at 85 percent efficiency."
"That'll do," she said under her breath, a plan forming in her mind.
Faith shot up from the rubble, shooting straight into the sky like a rocket, letting the drones follow. They surged upward after her, their weapons still firing, but she was ready. Reaching the peak of her climb, she flipped mid-air, diving back down toward the expo with the drones in hot pursuit.
The air roared around her, the wind pressing hard against her suit, but Faith didn't flinch. She wasn't running this time—she was baiting them. Pulling up the suit's targeting systems, she honed in on the most damaged drone. If she could just get it to mess up, it'd take care of itself.
She streaked across the Expo grounds, flying dangerously low, mere feet above the ground. The lead drone, struggling to maintain speed with its damaged propulsion unit, trailed just behind her, dipping lower and lower as it tried to close the gap.
That's when Faith saw her opening.
Directly ahead, a toppled radio tower lay across the Expo's main plaza, a mess of crisscrossed metal beams and shattered concrete. Faith shot toward it, her suit moving at blinding speed. The drone followed, its malfunctioning systems unable to register the full scope of the obstacle ahead.
With a quick burst from her thrusters, Faith pulled up at the last possible second, veering sharply to the right. The lead drone wasn't as lucky. It plowed straight into the tangle of metal and debris. The impact was immediate and brutal—sparks flew as the drone's frame crumpled, its left engine sputtering before exploding in a flash of orange fire.
The force of the explosion sent the remaining drone veering off course, momentarily disoriented as it corrected itself in mid-air.
Faith leveled out, her breath coming hard but steady as she watched the flaming wreckage of the destroyed drone collapse into a heap of twisted metal and fire. She let out a sharp laugh, her adrenaline still coursing through her veins.
"One left," she said into the comms, glancing toward the last remaining drone still trailing her. "Let's finish this," she muttered, setting her sights on the last one.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Tony's HUD lit up with projections, lines tracing potential flight paths across the Expo and over the massive steel globe of the Unisphere. It was a delicate balance—figuring out how to use its rotating mass as both shield and weapon. His fingers flicked over different parts of the War Machine OS, trying to untangle the mess Vanko had created while still mentally juggling his next move. The solution finally came to him, and his mind snapped into action.
"Willow, Faith," Tony's voice crackled over the comms, "meet me at the Unisphere. We can get the remaining three drones off our backs in one go." His tone was focused, controlled—he was already visualizing the whole thing playing out.
Within seconds, Faith and Willow shot in from either side of him, their sleek armors gleaming under the Expo's emergency lighting. Their synchrony was seamless, a testament to their training and battle-tested partnership.
Tony quickly adjusted his trajectory, zeroing in on the giant "STARK" letters emblazoned at the base of the Unisphere. "Head for the 'A' in Stark, and kick up your repulsors," he told them, his voice steady but urgent. "This might hurt a little," he added with a smirk.
"What? No, you are not—" Rhodey's voice cut in, a wave of panic rising as he pieced together what Tony was about to attempt.
"Yeah. We are." Tony didn't give him time to argue. There was no room for second thoughts.
He, Faith, and Willow honed in on the "A," their suits burning hot as they powered toward it. The trio moved in perfect harmony, their sights locked on the tiny gap between the massive spinning lines of the Unisphere.
In Tony's mind, it all worked out. War Machine—and by extension Rhodey—was tight enough on their tail that whatever calculations worked for Tony, Willow, and Faith would work for Rhodey too. And the Unisphere didn't rotate so fast that the timing would be impossible—at least, not for them.
The drones, however, were a different story. Tony had been watching them closely, noting their response times, their precision. They were fast, too fast for comfort, but Tony was betting they wouldn't be fast enough to handle the chaotic motion of the Unisphere. It wasn't just a stationary obstacle; it was a constantly shifting puzzle, a spinning maze of intersecting beams and metal continents.
As Tony had calculated, the drones excelled in open combat—tracking, targeting, and unleashing devastating firepower with terrifying accuracy. But projecting trajectories through an object like the Unisphere, with its rotating structure that offered a different path every fraction of a second, required something more than sheer processing speed. It required intuition—something the AI in the drones simply couldn't match.
"Here we go," Tony muttered to himself, his gaze locked on the spinning "A" as they approached at nearly four hundred miles per hour. It wasn't even close to their maximum speed, but it was enough to make threading through the rotating structure a challenge.
Iron Man, Ironheart, and Iron Witch dove into the narrow gap between the beams, the suits humming with the strain of the maneuver. The world became a blur of metal and motion, the tight margins for error pressing in on either side as they shot through the gap. A mere inch in either direction could have meant disaster, but they timed it perfectly.
The three emerged from the other side of the Unisphere, barely grazing the beams as they punched through at impossible speeds. Tony felt a surge of adrenaline as they cleared the structure and looped back around.
The drones, predictably, followed.
Behind them, the three Air Force drones attempted to replicate the maneuver. The first drone smashed headlong into the "K" in STARK, its chassis crumpling on impact before exploding in a brilliant flash. The second drone was a fraction of a second off, its trajectory skewed just enough to send it spiraling into the center of the Unisphere. It collided with a beam at the equator, then tumbled violently through the framework, igniting as it slammed against the interior surface near Australia.
The last drone, desperate to avoid its companions' fates, tried to pull off a sharp dip beneath the letters, but it wasn't fast enough. Its heavy machine gun scraped the edge of the structure, sending sparks flying. The aerodynamic disruption was enough to tear the drone apart mid-flight, the turbulence ripping pieces of it off. Its shattered components clanged out the other side, raining down into the Expo's central plaza like metallic shrapnel.
Tony exhaled sharply, his eyes scanning the aftermath. Only debris and fire remained where the drones had once been. The rest of the Expo's skyline gleamed faintly through the smoke.
"Well, that was satisfying," Faith said with a grin as she regrouped with Tony and Willow.
"Always fun watching them blow up," Willow added, her tone light despite the intensity of the situation.
"See that, Rhodey?" Tony's voice crackled through the comms, brimming with self-satisfaction. "Not bad."
On the other end, Rhodey's response was far less amused. "You didn't have to do that," he said, his tone dripping with accusation. "You did that just to be mean."
"Mean?" Tony echoed with a mock-offended huff. His suit dipped slightly as if shrugging off the accusation with ease. "You beat me up and steal my suit—on my birthday—and I'm the one who's mean? See if I fix your OS and get you out of there, buster. You just wait and see."
As they hovered, Tony, Faith, and Willow turned their collective gaze back toward the Unisphere. Its massive, rotating steel structure loomed over the Expo, casting long shadows over the scattered wreckage below. It was eerily still now, but Tony knew better than to trust appearances. The Unisphere had just absorbed the explosive force of two drones colliding into it, their fiery wreckage still smoldering in places. Its delicate balance of spinning I-beams and geographical metal plates had been thrown into chaos.
They didn't want the thing to collapse. Not on top of the Expo, not on the evacuees, not anywhere. Tony's mind raced through the structural physics, calculating how much impact energy the Unisphere had just been forced to absorb. The beams could spread some of the force, sure, but the jagged dents from the drone collisions at Australia and the equator were another story. That kind of angular momentum might be more than its foundation could handle.
For a moment, all three of them watched in tense silence, waiting to see if the iconic structure would tilt, sway—or worse—come crashing down.
"Unisphere appears intact and rotationally stable," Jarvis reported, his calm voice a balm to their frayed nerves.
Tony exhaled, the weight of potential catastrophe momentarily lifting.
"Have you figured out Rhodey's OS?" Faith asked, her tone less concerned about the spinning globe now that it seemed secure and more focused on freeing Rhodey from Vanko's hijacking.
"Not yet, Ms. Faith," Jarvis responded, ever-efficient but without the reassuring certainty Tony had hoped for.
"So," Rhodey chimed in, his voice tight with suppressed tension, "much as I'm enjoying this little trip down 'Let's see if we can break everything,' I could sure live with a progress report that might tell me something about whether I'm going to live or die here."
"Quit being a baby," Tony retorted, though his eyes flicked across his HUD with renewed focus. His heart rate had already begun to slow after the Unisphere ordeal, but the persistent threat of Vanko's control over Rhodey's suit kept him from relaxing entirely. "Willow, Faith, and I are the ones who should be worried about survival. We've got enough firepower trained on us to make Swiss cheese out of all three of us, and yet you're whining?"
The suit shuddered violently under yet another barrage of bullets from War Machine. Tony grit his teeth, frustration bubbling over as the impacts rattled through his armor. The fact that his best friend was an unwilling part of the attack only made it worse.
"Who's shooting at whom, here?" Tony quipped, trying to inject a little levity despite the situation. "Jarvis, come on. Make this happen."
"Making it, sir," Jarvis assured him, his voice steady even as the chaos raged on around them. "You may be certain of that."
Pepper stood rooted to the spot, her eyes wide with horror as she watched the explosions ripple across the Unisphere. Flames burst from its surface, and her heart seemed to lurch with every detonation, fear twisting in her gut. The sight of it, the spinning structure illuminated by fire and smoke, sent a wave of nausea rolling through her. She fumbled for her phone, her hands trembling as she dialed the number that connected her to Tony, Faith, and Willow. Each ring felt like an eternity, her mind racing with images of them—dead, their bodies scattered in pieces among the flaming wreckage below the Unisphere.
Her breath caught in her throat, preparing for the worst. But then—on the third ring, they answered. Relief hit her so fast she almost sank to her knees.
"Pepper," came Willow's voice, sounding a little breathless but alive. "What is it?"
For a moment, Pepper couldn't speak. The flood of emotions—fear, relief, the dread still clinging to the back of her mind—stole her words. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak, though her voice came out shaky. "I just wanted to—" But she was cut off by the unmistakable sound of impacts through the phone, the sharp clanging of metal against metal.
"Ouch," Tony muttered, his voice laced with both irritation and focus. "Gotta go. Bye."
And then, just like that, the line went dead. Pepper stood there, the phone still pressed to her ear, staring at the chaotic scene before her. Her pulse hammered in her ears, drowning out the noise of the panicking crowd as smoke billowed up from the Unisphere like a dark cloud, swallowing the sky.
But then she saw them.
Emerging from the haze and flames, three silhouettes shot into view—Tony, Faith, and Willow, their suits gleaming despite the soot and debris that hung in the air around them. Behind them, War Machine followed, only a few yards back, guns blazing with relentless fire. The flashes from its weapons were like strobe lights, lighting up the chaos around the Expo. Pepper's breath caught again, but this time it wasn't dread—it was awe mixed with lingering fear. They were still alive. They were still fighting.
War Machine, though—Rhodey's suit—was firing at them with everything it had, the endless rounds of bullets ricocheting off the armor of her loved ones. Only the big missiles remained unused, and Pepper felt a small wave of gratitude wash over her despite the tense situation. She didn't want to imagine what one of those massive missiles would do to the crowd still trying to evacuate. The people below were desperate, scattering like ants beneath the looming threat of war machines, explosions, and smoke. If even one of those missiles launched, it would be a disaster beyond anything she could comprehend.
Her fingers tightened around her phone, her knuckles white as she watched, helpless from the ground, knowing all she could do was hope they'd make it through this.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
While the crowds surged toward the exits in a frantic attempt to escape the chaos, Ivan Vanko slipped into the Expo unnoticed. Like at the Grand Prix, he had chosen a rear entrance, one shielded by silent, mechanical sentinels rather than living guards. Machines, after all, could not be distracted by fear or confusion, and the pandemonium unfolding in the skies above had drawn away every last human set to protect the perimeter. It was fortunate. Ivan had no interest in unnecessary bloodshed. His grudge was singular, his thirst for vengeance laser-focused. Those who did not need to die, wouldn't.
With a single brutal slash, Ivan hacked through a thick steel door, its severed edges glowing red-hot before cooling to a dull gray. He stepped through the threshold, descending a narrow stairwell that led into the bowels of the Expo—a concrete maintenance corridor, stark and utilitarian. The corridor stretched out before him like an artery beneath the Expo's grandiose surface, part of a hidden labyrinth that spread like a spider's web beneath the fairgrounds.
He navigated the dimly lit passage with unwavering confidence, his every step deliberate. The blueprint for this underground maze was burned into his mind, courtesy of Hammer's files. They had revealed every secret of the Expo, every concealed path, and every structural weakness. Ivan had studied them relentlessly, and now they guided him like an invisible hand.
Each footfall echoed faintly against the concrete walls, his armored form cutting a sharp, imposing silhouette. He could feel the power radiating through his body, the armor clinging to him like a second skin. It was a fusion of metal and muscle, every movement fluid and controlled despite its bulk. And the whips—ah, the whips. They were an extension of him, crackling with energy, lethal and unforgiving. His arms felt longer, his reach infinite, as if he could lash out at the very world and reduce it to cinders.
He relished the sensation. Here, in this moment, he was invincible. His drones and the compromised War Machine were doing exactly what they were meant to: soften the Starks. They were out there, fighting their desperate fight, thinking they had a chance. But when the time came—and Ivan knew it was coming soon—he would step into their path, and the battle would end the way he had always envisioned. The outcome was inevitable, written in the stars the day his father had been betrayed.
A small, almost indulgent part of him wanted to savor it. Draw it out. Make them feel the fear, the helplessness he had endured for so long. But Ivan pushed that thought away. Indulgence was weakness. He had learned from his father's mistakes. No enemy, especially not one as dangerous as Tony and Faith Stark, should be kept alive a moment longer than necessary.
And no one had enemies more dangerous than the Starks.
Ivan stopped in front of a steel ladder, its rungs glinting dully under the faint glow of the corridor's lights. He craned his neck, gazing up at the manhole cover at the top. This, if he remembered correctly—and he did—would lead him out near the perimeter of the Expo, close enough to the main entrance to make his next move.
With a flick of his wrists, the glowing whips retracted, their crackling energy snuffing out as they coiled neatly back into the armor. His hands, now bare, gripped the cold steel of the ladder. Each step up felt like the ascent to destiny, every movement calculated and calm. As he climbed, his mind was clear of doubt. There was no future beyond this—no world beyond the Starks' destruction.
And that was fine. For Ivan, the Starks were the world. Ending them would be the only victory that mattered.
Coming in low and fast, Tony, Faith, and Willow flew just above the surface of the lake, their reflections flickering in the water below like ghostly shadows. The only thing tracking them initially was War Machine, its silhouette a familiar presence on their HUDs. But the tranquility of the chase was short-lived. Their heads-up displays suddenly screamed with alerts—target locks from multiple sources. The blaring alarms drew their attention to the Tent of Tomorrow pavilion, where eight Army drones stood, their cannons aimed squarely in their direction.
The drones unleashed a torrent of firepower, and the first wave to strike was the rattle of small arms fire. Bullets pinged off their armor, barely an inconvenience, though the relentless metallic impacts filled their helmets with a deafening roar. Already, Tony could feel the dull throb of a future headache building, the reverberations rattling in his skull. It was annoying, but not dangerous—yet.
Then their HUDs flashed with the true threat: eight synchronized volleys of laser-guided forty-millimeter cannon shells. Each drone's weapon systems kicked into high gear, spitting rounds at an alarming three hundred per minute. The heavy shells cut through the air with a sinister hiss, homing in on them like predators locked onto their prey.
Tony, Faith, and Willow were dangerously close to the ground, flying less than twenty feet up, and rapidly closing in on the Tent of Tomorrow. For all their speed, the situation made them feel agonizingly slow—like sitting ducks in the open, with nowhere to go and no time to maneuver.
"Willow," Faith said, her voice tense over the comms, but the warning came too late.
In the span of ten breathless seconds, the drones' cannon fire rained down on them in a furious onslaught. The air around them seemed to crackle with violence. Willow barely had time to blink, let alone conjure any magic that could shield them from the incoming barrage. The sheer force of the blast was relentless, and it pounded against their suits like a hammer trying to beat them out of the sky.
The second volley hit hard, hundreds of shells blazing through the air with brutal precision. The repulsors in their suits strained against the impacts. Tony, Faith, and Willow could feel the force of every hit as their armor groaned under the barrage. About ten percent of the rounds struck them directly, a relentless series of concussive impacts that left their suits vibrating from the inside out.
War Machine took a few stray hits as well, knocking Rhodey off balance. His attention snapped back to the present, a reminder that survival was anything but guaranteed in this chaotic battle.
The rest of the barrage ripped through the Stark Expo, tearing it apart. Trees splintered into kindling as cannon shells tore through them with ease, while streetlights exploded in a shower of sparks before their steel poles were shredded into twisted metal. Buildings crumbled under the assault, their facades disintegrating into dust and fire, filling the air with plumes of smoke. It was devastation on a massive scale—chaos born from pure destruction. The heart of the Expo had become a war zone, and it was clear this was the beginning of the end for Stark's vision of a peaceful showcase of technology.
Tony's head rattled with the force of it all, but he didn't hesitate. As soon as the first fusillade ended, he, Faith, and Willow opened fire, their repulsors blazing with searing energy. A storm of bolts lanced out from their armor, raking across the row of Army drones with surgical precision. The drones erupted in fiery explosions, chunks of metal and circuitry bursting into the air. The pavilion itself couldn't withstand the assault—large sections of it collapsed in on themselves, sending plumes of debris skyward.
But Tony wasn't satisfied. They hadn't gotten them all.
The three of them dropped lower to the ground, skimming the surface as they came around for another pass. Their suits locked onto the remaining drones—those still standing, albeit barely, with sparks flying from their damaged forms. With pinpoint accuracy, they unleashed another wave of repulsor blasts, targeting the drones that still posed a threat.
This time, the remaining drones detonated in showers of sparks and metal shards, joining the destruction that had already engulfed the Expo.
Hovering above the wreckage, Tony, Faith, and Willow paused for a moment, surveying the chaos below. The smoldering remains of the pavilion and the crumpled drones lay scattered across the once-bustling grounds, now eerily quiet.
"I think the next Stark Expo," Tony said, his voice heavy with a mix of exhaustion and grim humor, "is going to be different. A lot different."
Faith and Willow didn't need to respond. The devastation spoke for itself.
The trio, battered by the brutal barrage of forty-millimeter shells, struggled to regain control. The pounding they'd taken had done more than just slow them down—it had set off a cacophony of alerts, filling their HUDs with flashing status warnings and recorded Jarvis alarms. Each one demanded their attention, but there were simply too many to handle all at once. They needed time, even just a few precious seconds to breathe and regroup.
Tony, Faith, and Willow unleashed another salvo of repulsor bolts, firing off in the general direction of the remaining Army drones. It wasn't meant to be precise—just a smokescreen to keep their attackers at bay long enough to reassess the situation. But before they could fully catch their breath, War Machine came out of nowhere, slamming into Tony with a bone-jarring crash. The impact knocked him off course, and he plummeted toward the ground, crashing hard.
Faith, seeing the collision unfold, knew instantly that her father wasn't prepared for this kind of close-quarters combat in the suit. Tony had always been more of a strategist in the air or behind technology—not in the down-and-dirty brawls that could happen once armor clashed against armor. Without hesitation, she dove, her speed a blur as she landed between Tony and War Machine. The sound of her impact echoed through the Expo, a thud that reverberated off the nearby buildings.
"Sorry, Rhodey," Faith said, her voice tight but determined. She grabbed War Machine by its chest plate, her enhanced strength fully on display as she lifted the bulky suit with a single, powerful motion. Inside the War Machine suit, Rhodey's voice erupted in a flurry of unprintable expletives, echoing through the HUD-to-HUD frequency, but there was no stopping Faith's momentum. With a grunt of effort, she flung War Machine through the air like a ragdoll. The suit hurtled toward a nearby freeway overpass, colliding with the concrete abutment with enough force to bury it halfway into the structure.
The collision sent a tremor through the bridge, rattling cars above and making some drivers slam on their brakes, eyes wide in terror. For a moment, traffic froze as people stared down at the chaos below. But the sight of War Machine lodged in the concrete, sparks flying from its damaged systems, was enough to send drivers scrambling to get away. The cars roared back to life, tires screeching as they sped off. For those caught in the crossfire, the once-distant spectacle of armored combat had become all too real—and all too close.
With Rhodey temporarily immobilized, entombed in the concrete while Jarvis worked to crack the War Machine's compromised systems, Tony took the brief respite to regroup. He could see the frustration on Faith's face, but also her readiness for whatever came next.
"We need answers," Tony said, already calculating their next steps. "I'm going to ping Natalie and see what she's found."
He and Faith launched back into the air, moving with purpose as they soared over a canal running along the Expo's edge. The water churned beneath them, their repulsors kicking up a thick spray that trailed behind like a misty shroud, providing cover from any remaining drones. It wasn't perfect, but it gave them a chance to evaluate their systems and figure out just how bad things had gotten.
Tony opened a comm line to Agent Romanoff, waiting as the secure connection flickered to life. A small square appeared on their HUDs, showing a still image of Natasha—no live video, which meant she was on the move.
"Hello?" Agent Romanoff's voice came through, slightly breathless.
"Natalie, what the hell is going on?" Tony asked, irritation creeping into his voice.
Faith and Willow exchanged glances. They could tell Natasha was in the thick of something, likely maneuvering her own way through the chaos.
"We're getting close," Natasha said, her voice tight, strained.
"Well, get closer faster," Willow said, her fingers working quickly as she ran a 3D radar sweep. The HUDs confirmed her suspicions—no drones, no immediate pursuit. But that didn't mean they were out of the woods yet.
"We need some answers," Faith chimed in, her voice hardened with urgency. "We've got a handbasket of hell here. And trust me, I know what hell looks like." She paused, allowing the weight of her words to sink in. "How close is close?"
"Close," Natasha repeated.
"Call back when you know. Soon," Tony said, cutting off the conversation.
"Will do," Natasha replied before clicking off.
With no immediate threats on their tail, Tony, Faith, and Willow slowed their pace, circling around the back of a large subway ventilation tower that doubled as an electrical substation for the Expo. It was a secluded enough spot, perfect for recalibrating and working on their next move.
"I've got a couple of ideas on how to deal with our War Machine problem," Tony said, his mind racing as he assessed the situation. "While we wait for Natalie, let's try them out."
"Jarvis," Tony called, his voice sharp with focus. "Reroute Rhodey's base operating system. Attack the kernel."
"Displaying kernel contents," Jarvis replied smoothly. A complex web of code appeared on their HUDs, the system's architecture laid bare for them to analyze.
"This is where the problem has to be," Willow said, her eyes narrowing as she took in the data. She could see the logic behind Tony's thinking. "The hardware hasn't been touched since installation, and the control systems are still functional."
"Exactly," Tony confirmed, his fingers tapping at the commands, already working through potential solutions. "The OS kernel is where they would have injected any malicious code."
Faith hovered nearby, her attention split between Tony's tech and keeping an eye on Rhodey, who remained half-buried in concrete, War Machine still sparking with life. "Okay, you two get working on that," she said, scanning the skies. "I'll keep watch. Just in case he decides to wake up early."
The kernel was a critical bridge—the unseen translator that allowed the War Machine suit's hardware and software to communicate seamlessly. In the simplest of terms, it was the nerve center, the part of the operating system that transformed commands from programs like fire control and flight navigation into real-time actions. It didn't just give orders; it was also responsible for reporting back what the suit's hardware was actually doing, like a two-way street of vital information.
But if someone wanted to take control of something as advanced and dangerous as War Machine and couldn't directly affect the hardware or fully run the onboard systems, they'd go for the middle ground—the kernel. It was the perfect weak spot. By manipulating the kernel, they could fool the suit into thinking everything was functioning correctly, when in reality, they could alter any number of critical operations. The suit wouldn't know any better, and neither would Rhodey.
Tony thought of it in simpler, almost playful terms, like that old childhood game of mockery: "Why are you hitting yourself?" Except this time, the consequences were far from innocent. If they could just crack this interference, Tony, Willow, and Jarvis would effectively stop Rhodey's suit from "hitting itself"—from doing the wrong thing. And once that happened, War Machine would be back on their side, ready to take down the real enemies with the power and precision it was designed for.
"How's that look, Jarvis?" Willow asked, her voice calm but laced with urgency as they stared at the kernel's code projected on their HUDs. Every second spent figuring this out was a second they could be attacked.
"Most promising, Ms. Willow," Jarvis responded with his trademark calm. "I believe we will find this a fruitful line of inquiry."
"Outstanding. Nothing I love more than fruitful lines," Tony quipped, trying to inject some humor into the tension. But even his sarcasm couldn't mask the razor-sharp focus in his voice.
Their momentary reprieve was cut short by Faith's warning. "Dad," she said, her tone shifting immediately as she spotted the ominous shadow looming through the smoke and debris. "Incoming."
In an instant, the War Machine suit came crashing through the substation wall, sending chunks of concrete and steel flying. The sound was deafening, a low rumble of destruction that reverberated through the ground beneath their feet. The battered suit, dented and scorched from cannon fire and its brutal collision with the freeway abutment, was a far cry from its usual, pristine form. Sparks flickered across its surface, and the once-intimidating Gatling gun sputtered uselessly, refusing to fire.
Other weapon systems appeared equally damaged—smaller projectile launchers that might have posed a threat now hung limp, utterly useless. But even though its offensive arsenal had been severely weakened, War Machine was still a dangerous, walking juggernaut. It was down to brute force now. No more high-tech weaponry—just old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat. And despite everything, it was still Rhodey inside that armor.
Faith stepped forward, positioning herself protectively between her father and her wife. Her eyes locked onto the War Machine suit, every muscle in her body tensing in readiness for the inevitable clash. She exuded calm, but there was a steeliness in her gaze, a confidence born from countless battles.
"Rhodey," she said, her voice level but commanding. "You've read my files, right?"
"Yes, Faith," Rhodey replied, the weight of his words carrying the memory of what he had read in her files. He vividly recalled the details about Faith being the Slayer, a warrior of immense strength and skill who had faced down unspeakable horrors long before she donned armor. Her suit now only enhanced that already formidable power, pushing her capabilities beyond what even War Machine could match in a direct contest. He sighed inwardly, knowing full well that in this encounter, brute force wasn't going to work in his favor. "So, I know that this is likely going to hurt me more than it will hurt you."
Before Faith could respond, War Machine made its move. The powerful suit yanked her into the nearest building, its fists coming down in a relentless barrage, the sound of metal slamming into metal reverberating like thunder through the hollowed-out structure. The impact shook the walls, sending dust and debris cascading down like a gritty rain.
Faith, however, was no stranger to this kind of close combat. She absorbed the first few hits, gritting her teeth before twisting sharply. With a surge of speed, she slipped out of War Machine's attempt to grapple her, sidestepping with almost feline agility. In one swift, fluid motion, she delivered a devastating roundhouse kick. The sheer force behind it would have reduced an ordinary person to pulp, their bones shattered, their mind reeling in unconsciousness. But Rhodey's suit barely registered the hit. War Machine kept coming, its armored form unfazed.
"I'm watching all of this happen," Rhodey said, his voice a strange mix of amazement and resignation crackling over the comms, "and I still can't believe it."
"Pretty unbelievable, yeah," Tony chimed in dryly from his vantage point beside Willow. They had a front-row seat to the clash, the intensity of the blows exchanged between Faith and Rhodey almost dizzying to witness. "I mean, who would have thought that the military would do something unsavory with my design? That's really amazing. I still can't believe it's happening."
Rhodey, even in the midst of the fight, had enough presence of mind to shoot back. "Tell you what, when you can stay sober enough on your birthday that you're not about to blow some girl's head off playing William Tell with a watermelon, then you can lecture me about what's unsavory."
Despite the brutal combat, Faith smirked, muting her channel to Rhodey as the exchange of words carried on between her father and her friend. Her sharp instincts kicked in, formulating a plan even as she ducked another swing from War Machine. "I am going to lure him off to give you two more time to get Rhodey control of his suit," she said in a calm, calculated tone to Tony and Willow. With that, she rocketed away from the crumbling building, her thrusters kicking up dust as she soared through the air like a bolt of lightning.
Sure enough, War Machine followed in hot pursuit. Its heavy footfalls thundered through the chaos, unwavering in its chase.
Faith unmuted Rhodey's comms, her voice steady but teasing. "What are you doing, Faith?" Rhodey asked, though his voice carried the weight of frustration, mingled with grudging admiration for her strategy.
"Just trying to lure you away to give Dad and Willow time to work out the kernel on your suit and get you control," Faith replied, darting around an industrial support beam with effortless grace. Even in the middle of a high-speed chase, she radiated confidence, her every movement calculated to give her father and wife the crucial minutes they needed to crack War Machine's code and free Rhodey from its grasp.
War Machine, with Rhodey trapped inside, barreled after her, its systems still bent on carrying out its misguided mission. But deep down, Rhodey knew Faith had the upper hand—for now.
Back on the ground, Tony and Willow worked frantically on Rhodey's kernel, the intensity of the situation making every second feel like an eternity. Tony's mind raced, trying to juggle a dozen problems at once, but he focused on the one that mattered most. "Willow, I want you to work out what's still functional in our suits and what's not," Tony instructed, his voice tight with concentration. "I'll tackle the kernel problem head-on."
"Will, do," Willow responded, her fingers already dancing across the virtual controls, initiating a comprehensive diagnostic sweep. As she worked, her HUD filled with streams of data, flashing status alerts as she assessed the damage they had sustained in the battle so far.
Meanwhile, high above, the battle between Faith and War Machine raged on. War Machine's armored hand clamped down around Faith's leg, its grip like a vice. Faith's thrusters sputtered under the strain, not running at full capacity, and the two combatants began to spiral through the air in an uncontrollable tumble. Whoever was controlling War Machine was no longer playing it safe; they had decided to unleash its full destructive power.
Bullets ricocheted off Faith's armor in high-pitched whines, the sound sharp and disorienting in her helmet. Each impact sent a shudder through her suit, the steady ping-ping-ping of small arms fire turning into a brutal barrage of force. But it was Rhodey's fists—powered by the massive War Machine frame—that were the real problem. Each punch landed like a pile driver, hammering into her armor with devastating precision, leaving dents that threatened to crush the delicate circuitry beneath.
Faith gritted her teeth, knowing that if this onslaught continued much longer, her systems would start to fail. She could already feel some of her tactical displays flickering, her suit's responsiveness lagging with each successive blow. If her armor was compromised much more, she wouldn't stand a chance, not against War Machine and certainly not against Whiplash, if he decided to show up.
The two suits tangled mid-air, spinning across the shattered landscape of the Expo. Repulsor thrusters fired in bursts, gyros whining as Faith fought to keep them from crashing into the ground. It was a brutal, chaotic grapple, and Faith could already feel her strength being pushed to its limits as she struggled to fend off Rhodey's assault.
On the ground, Tony kept working furiously, his eyes scanning the strings of code, searching for any clue that might give them the upper hand. Jarvis, ever attentive, broke the silence. "It would appear that one of the kernel modules has been altered," Jarvis said, his calm tone belying the urgency of the situation. "It is located in the area of executable instructions."
Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Aha," he muttered, a spark of hope igniting in his mind. "Any idea what it's supposed to look like?"
"One might suppose that it would resemble kernels from other advanced Defense Department projects," Jarvis suggested. "That would be a logical place to start if one wanted a kernel that operated as originally intended."
Tony grinned despite the tension. "Do I detect a hint that you've maybe already constructed such a kernel, Jarvis, you devil, you?"
"Perhaps, sir. If you are extremely vigilant and attuned to the idiosyncrasies of my programming, you might notice that an executable code module is currently resident in the Iron Man, Ironheart, and Iron Witch's suits' download quarantine. Should you choose to do something with it, of course, that would be your prerogative."
Tony's grin widened. "Outstanding. Faith, did you catch that?"
"I did, Dad," Faith's voice crackled over the comms, breathless but focused as she continued to struggle with War Machine.
In the air, Faith and War Machine tangled in a chaotic dance, their movements erratic as they tumbled and spiraled out of control. From the ground, they probably looked like one of those failed prototypes Tony had mocked during the Senate hearing—awkward, out of sync, and out of control. Their spiraling descent took them directly into the geodesic dome at the other end of the lake, the one that had stood as a silent sentinel opposite the still-rotating Unisphere. The dome's reinforced glass shattered around them, a rain of sharp shards as they plummeted through, punching a jagged hole in the structure's pristine surface.
Inside, they landed hard, their armored forms slamming into the ground with a metallic thud, their crash disturbing the tranquil beauty of the dome's interior. They found themselves next to a quiet, serene pool, its calm waters reflecting the soft pink blossoms of cherry trees that encircled the space, their delicate petals fluttering down like snow in stark contrast to the violence that had just unfolded.
"We just crashed into the Unisphere, Dad," Faith said, her voice calm despite the chaos.
War Machine moved to get the upper hand again, but Faith was quicker. With a swift leg sweep, she sent Rhodey's suit crashing back to the ground, a satisfying crunch reverberating through her own armor as War Machine hit the deck. Faith's mind raced, knowing she had to act quickly. One of the gadgets Tony had built into their suits—a feature he'd added almost as an afterthought, not convinced it would ever be truly necessary—suddenly seemed like the perfect solution. The retractable stiletto spike, forged from tungsten and designed to eject with enough force to pierce the armor of a battle-hardened Abrams tank, now lay dormant in her armor.
"Sorry about this," Faith muttered, almost to herself, as War Machine lay prone before her. She triggered the spike, watching as it slid out of its compartment with a slick, mechanical hiss. Rhodey's eyes widened beneath his visor, the look of shock palpable even through the layers of his armored helmet.
Faith ignored the growing tension between them, the momentary pang of guilt buried beneath her steely resolve. Rhodey's mouth moved as though he were trying to form words, but Faith couldn't hear him—she'd already cut off the HUD-to-HUD channel to block out the distraction. Her full attention was on the task at hand, focusing on lining up the spike with surgical precision.
"Just a little more..." she whispered to herself, every micro-adjustment a delicate dance between precision and speed.
Shling!
The spike drove home with a satisfying sound, sinking into the base of War Machine's neck armor, mere millimeters from Rhodey's actual throat. The suit went dead, Rhodey's form suddenly slack as the spike's core—Tony's other clever innovation—began transmitting Jarvis' new kernel directly into the suit's onboard network. The wireless antenna embedded in the spike worked perfectly, sending the rebooting command through the system.
War Machine stilled completely, Rhodey's voice silenced mid-sentence, though Faith could feel the vibrations of his attempts to speak through the spike. It didn't matter—she knew the suit was down, and Rhodey would be back in control soon enough.
"Rebooting systems," Jarvis' voice cut through the quiet, steady as ever, just as Tony and Willow descended from the sky, their suits landing lightly beside Faith and the downed War Machine.
They watched as, system by system, the War Machine suit began to come back online. Lights flickered on the HUD, servos whirred back to life, and after what felt like an eternity, Rhodey sat up, his movements slow and deliberate. Faith let him rise, the tension draining from her posture as the immediate threat dissolved.
For a brief moment, the three of them—Faith, Tony, and Willow—stood together, watching as Rhodey settled beside Faith on the edge of the quiet pool. The scene was almost surreal, the chaos and destruction of moments before a stark contrast to the tranquil beauty of their surroundings. The cherry blossoms continued to drift lazily to the ground, their delicate petals landing softly on the surface of the water.
"Feeling better?" Tony asked after a beat, his voice carrying a mix of relief and exhaustion.
Rhodey, still catching his breath, looked over at him. His voice was heavy with guilt. "I'm so sorry."
Tony paused, weighing Rhodey's apology. It was sincere, but the situation had spiraled far beyond a simple 'sorry.' Tony knew they'd need to have a much deeper conversation. He glanced out at the peaceful pool, the reflection of the cherry blossoms on its surface a stark reminder of how fragile everything could be.
"We need to talk," Tony said quietly, his tone firm but not unkind.
Hammer Research Facility
The path Agent Romanoff had carved through the research facility from the front door to the lab was marked by a brutal efficiency, the kind of focused violence that left no room for argument or interference. Happy, normally quick with a quip or protest, merely nodded when she commanded, "Wait here." His expression softened from stern concern to something resembling guilt as he watched her stride into the lab without looking back. For a moment, she felt a pang of sympathy for him, knowing the carnage she'd left behind had silenced him more than any words could.
Inside the lab, the air felt thick with the tension of recent death and the oppressive stench of blood. Romanoff took in the scene with an expert's eye, the jumbled chaos telling her two stories at once: one of frenetic invention, the other of calculated brutality. On one side of the lab, a sprawling, haphazard display of creative genius—bits of arc reactors, half-finished drones, and intricate machinery scattered across the floor like abandoned toys. The remnants of Ivan's work, unguarded and chaotic, were proof of his manic brilliance, but it was the other side of the room that held her attention.
The bodies of the two security guards lay crumpled in grotesque positions, their limbs twisted unnaturally, as if Ivan had tossed them aside with cruel indifference. The first guard had been flung upward, his lifeless form dangling from the ceiling by a length of conduit, a dark smear of blood trailing down the wall where his body had made impact. The second lay sprawled across the floor, eyes wide open in frozen terror, his mouth locked in a scream that would never be heard. Both had been killed savagely, but it wasn't just the violence of their deaths that made the scene unsettling—it was the deliberate nature of it.
Nearby, on a small table by the access touchscreen, sat a chilling display: each guard's right hand, severed cleanly at the wrist, placed methodically beside the panel. Romanoff's gaze lingered on the hands for a moment, the grim trophies serving as Ivan's message—an unmistakable sign of his intent and his cold, calculated exit. He had used the guards' hands as keys to unlock his escape, and left them behind as both a clue and a taunt.
Romanoff's sharp eyes swept across the rest of the lab. There was an incredible mess of discarded drones, prototype scraps, and machinery parts lying in heaps on the floor and across the workbenches. Electrical cables and hoses snaked across the room like vines in a jungle, haphazardly connecting various workstations without any discernible logic. The entire space looked as if a storm had ripped through it, but this chaos had purpose—this was the workshop of a man whose mind was always five steps ahead, moving too fast for anything as trivial as tidiness.
Despite the disarray, the computers were still on, monitors aglow with schematics and data that should have been locked down the moment they were accessed. Ivan hadn't bothered covering his tracks; he had been too focused on his escape, or maybe he simply didn't care. Either way, the information on the screens might prove useful, but the immediate priority was Ivan himself.
Without hesitation, Romanoff reached for her comms and dialed Tony, Faith, and Willow. Her voice was cold, controlled—she didn't need to waste time with unnecessary details.
"He's gone," she said simply, her eyes still scanning the wreckage as if expecting Ivan's ghost to rise from the shadows.
Stark Expo
With delicate cherry blossoms floating lazily on the breeze around them, Tony's eyes narrowed as he surveyed the serene scene. His voice, cutting through the almost surreal tranquility, carried a note of exasperation as he asked, "Well, where is he?"
For a fleeting moment, everything was still. Tony, Faith, Willow, and Rhodey sat in the rare silence, enjoying the unexpected lull amidst the chaos. Whatever Agent Romanoff said in response was lost as their attention was drawn sharply to the sudden disruption of their peace. It came in the form of a heavy, metallic thud, the sound of crumpling concrete and twisted steel shattering the fragile calm.
A lone Army drone—battle-worn and scarred with deep gouges from repulsor blasts—burst through the dome's wall. Its charred armor bore the evidence of previous skirmishes, yet it moved with purpose, its red eyes glowing with a chilling determination. Despite its damage, it had not lost sight of its mission: destroy them.
Tony cut the comms with Agent Romanoff, his face hardening. His HUD flickered to life as he opened a private line to Rhodey, Faith, and Willow. "Well," Tony said, voice low and ready. "You ready to make it up to me?" His eyes didn't leave the approaching drone.
"I think we got this," Rhodey replied, his War Machine armor creaking as he flexed his gauntleted fists, stepping up beside Tony. Faith and Willow moved in unison, their suits whirring softly, weapons coming online with a near-silent hum. The four of them squared off against the lone drone, their collective focus locked on the threat before them.
But then, the quiet was broken again. A low, distant rumble vibrated through the ground beneath their feet, causing the cherry blossoms overhead to shudder loose from their branches. The sound grew in intensity, a deep, mechanical growl that echoed ominously within the dome.
And then, out of the dimness above, sixteen more drones descended in formation from the highest point of the dome. The ceiling creaked under their weight, the air filled with the metallic thrum of their servos and the glint of their armored frames catching the dappled sunlight. Each drone landed with military precision, positioning themselves in a crossfire pattern designed to trap Tony and his team in the center of the dome, their cold, lifeless gazes locked onto their targets.
"The Marines have arrived," Tony muttered, his voice grim. "And apparently, the Navy too."
Willow took stock of the situation, her eyes darting across the incoming drones. "Looks like the odds are seventeen to four," she said, her tone tinged with dark humor. "Which means four drones each, with someone having an extra."
Where moments ago there had been a gentle drift of blossoms, now there was a swirling storm. The once-calm pool at the center of the dome was covered in a soft layer of petals, thick enough to almost walk on, as the air became thick with the scent of cherry and ozone. But the peaceful imagery was a stark contrast to the hostile weight of iron and circuitry that now filled the space. The drones locked their weapons into place, the unmistakable whine of systems preparing to fire filled the dome as they zeroed in on Iron Man, Ironheart, Iron Witch, and War Machine.
The first drone, the one that had barged in through the wall, didn't hesitate. It took the initiative, and with a sharp, ratcheting sound, a missile rack slid out from its shoulder, snapping into position.
Faith, her voice calm but urgent, called out, "Willow?"
"Magical energy regulators are offline," Willow replied, her eyes raking the alert on her HUD. "I can't do a magical EMP."
Tony didn't wait for further discussion. He was closest, and he wasn't about to let the drone get the upper hand. With lightning-fast reflexes, he lunged forward, grabbing the missile rack just as the drone was preparing to fire. His strength, amplified by his armor, tore the rack from the drone's torso in a single, brutal motion.
The drone, still running its firing routine, hadn't yet registered the loss of its weapon. Before it could even attempt to abort, Tony flipped the launch tube around. The missile fired at point-blank range, detonating inside the drone's chassis with a deafening explosion that temporarily whited out Tony's heads-up display. When his vision cleared, the upper half of the drone was gone, reduced to smoking debris that fell around him in blackened fragments.
He let the ruined missile rack drop to the ground with a dull thud and said, "That's one."