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*****
When Tony descended from the sky and landed on the stage, the entire auditorium erupted in cheers.
Though he'd been absent for a while, his return still outshone every other spectacle.
But Tony had no interest in greeting the crowd—his full attention was on the Iron Suits displayed before him.
By now, every suit was packed with "lucky" audience members. Amid the roaring applause, Tony inhaled deeply and strode over to Rhodey.
"I need your help, buddy. This is bad news."
"Bad news?" Rhodey glanced at him. "Worse than you?"
They'd already clashed the last time Rhodey visited Tony.
For a moment, an awkward expression flickered across Tony's face, then he spoke in a low voice, "We'll deal with that later. Right now—"
"Hey!"
Justin Hammer swaggered up to Tony, clapping his hands. "Let's hear it for Iron Man himself! Sir, what do you make of our selfless gift to the public—Hammer Industries' Iron Suits?"
Tony waved Hammer off and pushed past him. "Not interested."
Justin's smug grin twitched into a snarl behind his back. Of all times for this arrogant jerk to swagger around…
"Tony Sta—"
"TONY STARK!"
A cold voice cut him off. The giant screens behind the stage snapped to life and revealed a man with streaks of gray in his long hair, a scar across his face, and eyes like flint.
Ivan Vanko.
Tony, who had already checked files on him, recognized the man immediately.
"Glad you could join us," Vanko said, his lips curling into a frosty smile as he watched the live feed from the suits.
Justin frowned, but before he could react, Vanko continued, "Let's play a little game. My stakes are these Iron Soldiers."
At his cue, the suits' weapons shoulders clicked into position, ominous in the harsh spotlights. Tony's eyes darkened, and Rhodey's face went ashen.
"You can choose to take them out… or let them take you out."
Vanko's cruel laugh echoed through the hall, which had fallen completely silent.
"Or, you can kneel and beg for my mercy—publicly admit that you, the Stark family, stole the Vanko legacy. That you're nothing but thieves!"
Tony's whole body shook with fury. He drew a steadying breath, pointed at Vanko's image, and sneered, "Steal? Spare me. Ask your damned father—this mess is exactly what you deserve!"
Vanko spit out his toothpick with a sneer. "Then let the game begin!"
With that, every suit's optical sensors flared to life. Rhodey snapped, "Move! Tony! The suits are out of control—and they're targeting you!"
Tony's heart sank. He rocketed upward.
The next instant, a golden storm of bullets surged toward him, shattering the glass ceiling. Firelight danced across the sky as the projectiles pursued him relentlessly.
Tony darted through the air, watching red targeting dots flicker on his HUD. He couldn't fire back—inside each suit was an innocent hostage, Vanko's bargaining chips.
"With my new clean-energy reactor and upgraded armor, I could disable those junk suits… but the people inside…"
"Tony, get out of the way! You're locked on!"
Rhodey barked over the comms. Tony veered in a tight arc, climbing higher.
"Rat-a-tat-tat!"
The bullets screamed past like streaks of molten gold—then came the thunderous blast of multiple missiles.
BOOM! BOOM!
Fireballs bloomed in the night sky.
"Wow! What beautiful fireworks!"
Gwen looked up, clapping in delight. They'd just emerged from the adjacent exhibit hall.
"Fireworks?"
Erik and Charles craned their necks, frowning. Mike and Clark exchanged grim looks.
Fireworks, indeed—if by "fireworks" you meant explosives.
"Look—shooting stars!"
Gwen pointed aloft, turning to the four behind her. "Dad, Uncle—make a wish!"
A wish? Those were bullets and Iron Man suits streaming overhead.
"No, no—those aren't lucky stars, they're jinxes. Make a wish, and you'll get cursed."
Mike gently pulled Gwen's hand down and said softly, "Let's get out of here."
When Tony Stark descended from the sky and landed on the stage, the entire arena exploded with cheers.
Although he'd been away for some time, his return still eclipsed every other attraction. But Tony had no interest in fanfare—his attention was fixed on the Iron Suits before him, all packed with "lucky" volunteers.
He inhaled sharply and turned to Rhodey.
"I need your help, pal. This is serious."
"Serious?" Rhodey glanced at him. "Worse than your last scuffle?"
A flash of awkwardness crossed Tony's face—he hadn't forgotten their last fight—but he steeled himself.
"We'll settle that later. Right now—"
"Hey!" Justin Hammer swaggered up to Tony, clapping. "Let's give it up for Iron Man! Sir, what do you think of our generous Iron Suits? How do you feel about us sharing them freely with the public?"
Tony waved him off and pushed past. "Not now."
Justin's smug grin twitched into a snarl behind Tony's back—of all times for this arrogant fool to show off.
"Tony Sta—"
"TONY STARK!"
A sharp voice cut through the noise. The giant screens behind the stage flickered on, revealing a man with streaked gray hair, a cruel scar across his cheek, and eyes like ice.
Ivan Vanko.
Tony recognized him instantly—he'd studied Vanko's dossier.
"Glad you could join us," Vanko told Hammer's live feed, lips curling into a deadly smile. Justin frowned—but before he could respond, Vanko continued, "Shall we play a little game? My stakes are these Iron Soldiers."
On cue, every suit's weapons shoulder-plate slid open, ominous in the spotlight. Tony's eyes darkened, and Rhodey's face went white.
"You can choose to destroy them—or let them destroy you."
Vanko's cruel laughter echoed through the hall, which had gone utterly silent.
"Or you can kneel and beg for mercy—publicly admit that you, the Stark family, stole the Vanko legacy and are nothing but thieves!"
Tony's body trembled with fury. He drew a steadying breath, pointed at Vanko's image, and snarled,
"Steal? Spare me. Ask your rotten father—this catastrophe is exactly what you deserve!"
Vanko spat out his toothpick. "Then let the game begin!"
Instantly, every suit's optical sensors flared to life. Rhodey shouted into Tony's comm,
"Move, Tony! The suits are out of control—they're targeting you!"
Tony's heart sank. He rocketed upward.
In the next instant, a golden storm of bullets surged toward him, shattering the glass ceiling. Firelight blossomed like flowers in the sky as the projectiles chased him.
Tony weaved through the air, watching red targeting dots pulse on his HUD. He couldn't fire back—inside each suit were innocent hostages, Vanko's leverage.
"With my new clean-energy reactor and armor upgrades, I could neutralize those junk suits… but I can't risk the people inside."
"Tony, get out of the way! Locked on!"
Rhodey's voice crackled in his ear as Tony arced higher.
Rat-a-tat-tat!
The bullets screamed past like streaks of molten gold—then came the thunderous roar of multiple missiles.
BOOM! BOOM!
Fireballs bloomed overhead.
"Wow! Those fireworks are amazing!"
Gwen looked up, clapping with delight as the family emerged from the adjacent exhibit.
"Fireworks?"
Erik and Charles craned their necks, frowning. Mike and Clark exchanged grim looks.
Fireworks? More like explosives.
"Look—shooting stars!"
Gwen pointed skyward at the streaking bullets and missiles. "Dad, make a wish!"
A wish? Those were death-dealing projectiles and Iron Man suits.
"No, sweetie—those aren't lucky stars, they're jinxes. Wish on them and you'll get cursed," Mike gently corrected, leading Gwen away.
(End of Chapter)