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Ending: 10/08/25
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Tony Stark staggered back, chest heaving, as he ripped the miniature arc reactor from his chest plate.
Across from him, Ivan Vanko collapsed onto the asphalt, his battered and scorched exoskeleton hissing with steam.
The crowd in the stands had either fled in terror or stood frozen in shock, their gasps and murmurs a dull hum beneath the roaring sirens and the distant thud of approaching boots. The scent of burnt metal and ozone filled the air.
Ivan groaned, lifting his head just enough to look at Tony. His face was streaked with sweat and soot, but the smirk on his lips remained, defiant even in defeat.
"You lose, Stark," He rasped, voice barely above a whisper.
Tony let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head as he dropped the deactivated arc reactor onto the ground beside him. "Buddy, I think the scoreboard says otherwise."
His voice was light, laced with sarcasm, but there was no mistaking the tension in his posture.
Ivan coughed, then laughed—a dry, hacking sound that made Tony's jaw clench. "Doesn't matter… I made my point."
He exhaled slowly, his smirk deepening despite the blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. "You have everything… but you're still alone."
---
Back at the hotel, Tony Stark strutted into the luxurious suite like a man who had just saved the world, despite the fact that he had nearly been killed on live television. His racing suit was still sung from the accident, but he acted like he had just walked off a movie set.
The moment he saw Seph, he broke into a wide, boyish grin and threw his arms around him in a bear hug.
"Ohhh, my personal guardian angel! My dear Seph! My one and only sniper savior!" Tony exclaimed dramatically, his voice dripping with theatrics.
Seph, who had never been a fan of excessive physical contact—especially not from sweaty, overly affectionate billionaires—immediately grimaced.
"Ugh... get off me, Stark." He shoved Tony lightly, just enough to put some distance between them without sending him flying through a wall. "I swear, I'm getting some seriously unwanted gay vibes right now."
Tony gasped as if Seph had just stabbed him in the heart.
"Wow. Just… wow." He placed a hand over his chest, feigning deep emotional distress. "I save the world daily, I revolutionize technology, and I bring joy to millions—millions, Seph! And you? You push me away like I'm some unworthy peasant?"
Seph rolled his eyes. "I pushed you away because you stink of motor oil, burnt leather, and bad decisions."
Tony blinked. "That's a very specific scent profile."
"I have a sharp nose."
Pepper, meanwhile, stepped forward and did what Tony should have done—offered a genuine sign of appreciation. She wrapped her arms around Seph in a warm but brief hug.
"Thank you, Seph," She murmured against his shoulder, her voice steady but laced with emotion. "I know Tony acts invincible, but he's not. If you hadn't stepped in…"
She trailed off, unwilling to finish the thought. Seph had seen that look in her eyes before—the quiet fear that came with loving someone who constantly threw himself into danger.
Seph exhaled through his nose, the weight of her arms around him momentarily grounding him. He pulled back slightly, tilting his head down to meet her gaze.
"Not a big deal," He said, his voice carrying that familiar, effortless confidence. "Honestly, he was standing there like he was waiting for a dramatic slow clap. Shooting Ivan before he could finish his villain monologue was basically a public service."
Pepper sighed, shaking her head, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "Can't you just take a heartfelt thank-you like a normal person?"
Seph smirked, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear with a casual ease. "I am taking it. I just don't need a parade for doing what I was always going to do."
She huffed but didn't argue. She knew him too well. Knew that beneath his nonchalant attitude was a man who acted not for recognition, but because it was simply in his nature.
Still, as she tightened her grip on his arm for just a second longer, her eyes softened.
As the group settled in, only one person in the room remained silent.
Natalia!
She was staring at Seph with an unusual expression, one filled with conflict—like she was trying to decode something about him that didn't quite add up.
Seph noticed. He smirked, leaning closer. "Something on your mind, Miss Widow?"
Natalia's eyes snapped to his.
For a split second, she seemed caught off guard. But then, her mask of control returned. "Nothing at all."
Seph chuckled. "Liar."
Natalia didn't react, but her fingers tensed slightly—just enough for him to notice.
Now that was interesting.
But before he could push further, Tony clapped his hands loudly. "Alright, folks! Since our dear Russian intruder decided to wreck my race, I'm afraid Monaco is officially ruined for me. Time to pack up and head home."
Despite the chaotic day, Tony Stark was not the type to leave a mystery unsolved.
This was exactly why, instead of heading straight to the airport, he and Seph found themselves at the Monaco Police Station an hour later.
Tony had one goal—to meet Ivan Vanko face-to-face.
Seph wasn't particularly interested in the visit. He already had a solid grasp of the situation, and Ivan Vanko wasn't a threat to him. But still, watching Tony play detective could be amusing, so he tagged along.
The two of them were led into a dimly lit interrogation room where Vanko was seated at a steel table, shirtless, bruised, and handcuffed. His cold, dark eyes locked onto Tony the moment he entered.
Tony smirked as he took a seat across from him. "So… I hear you don't like me. I gotta say, you really know how to make an entrance, buddy."
Vanko remained silent, his expression unreadable.
Seph, standing near the wall with his arms crossed, watched the exchange with mild interest.
Tony leaned back, kicking his feet up on the table. "You know, I appreciate the whole 'bad guy with a personal vendetta' thing. Very classic. Very vintage. But attacking me in front of millions of people? That's just sloppy. Not a lot of business sense, you know?"
Vanko finally spoke, his voice thick with a Russian accent. "You think this is about business, Stark?"
"Well, no," Tony admitted. "It's clearly about daddy issues. Let me guess—your old man worked with my old man, but he got the short end of the stick?"
Vanko's jaw tightened.
Tony grinned. "Ohhh, I nailed it, didn't I?"
Vanko leaned forward, his gaze ice cold. "You have everything because of your father. But my father? He died, drunk and forgotten. I spent my life in a cage while you grew up in a palace."
Seph exhaled softly, already bored. "And so your grand plan was to… what? Show up, break some cars, and die in prison? That's a pretty weak revenge story, if you ask me."
Vanko's eyes snapped to Seph. "I do not fear death."
"Good for you," Seph said dryly. "Because you almost got a lot more of it today."
Tony chuckled. "Yeah, my guy here? He's got a pretty steady trigger finger. You should be thanking him that you're not in a morgue instead of a cell."
Vanko didn't react. Instead, he leaned back, staring at Tony with something close to pity. "You think you are untouchable."
Tony's smirk faltered, just slightly.
"But you… you will lose," Vanko continued, his voice eerily calm. "Soon."
Seph raised an eyebrow. "You know something we don't, Boris?"
Vanko only smiled.
And that, more than anything, made Seph's instincts twinge.
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