The heavy metal door's internal mechanisms engaged with a series of low, mechanical clicks. Hydraulic systems hissed softly as pressure equalized, and then the door began to swing open with ponderous weight.
Nolan emerged from the base entrance, his expression completely blank. The blue power armor moved with him, servos humming their familiar accompaniment to each step. Cold air from outside met the warmer interior atmosphere, creating a brief shimmer of temperature differential in the threshold.
Tony Stark stood just beyond the entrance, the faceplate of his armor retracted. He held a cheeseburger in one hand, already halfway through devouring it with the unselfconscious enthusiasm of someone who'd skipped a meal. His other hand rose in a casual wave, the red and gold armor catching the ambient light.
He chewed quickly, swallowed, then grinned up at Nolan's considerably taller form.
"Mmm... Hey there, buddy! I brought you a cheeseburger. You absolutely have to try this chef's work. It's delicouse..."
Nolan's eyes shifted downward, his gaze cold and distant. His voice came out flat, devoid of any warmth or humor. "Stark. I'm not in the mood for banter right now. What do you want?"
Tony's grin didn't falter, though something in his eyes suggested he'd registered the tone. He gestured with the cheeseburger, speaking around another bite. "I've been cooped up in Stark Tower for too long lately. Jarvis suggested I get some fresh air, maybe some actual sunlight. And I happened to notice your flying vehicles making passes over the city, so I figured I'd drop by for a visit." He raised his eyebrows slightly, his tone remaining light. "After all, we're neighbors now, right? I just prefer the penthouse life while you've apparently gone for the underground bunker aesthetic..."
He lifted his other hand, revealing a substantial stack of cheeseburgers still wrapped in paper. The smell of grilled meat and melted cheese wafted through the air. Tony's eyes tracked over the blue power armor with obvious interest, and his smile shifted into something more professional, more analytical.
"Actually, I have to say, the blue paint job looks really good on that armor. And the design seems more streamlined than the last version I saw. Are your tech people planning to roll out updates? Because if you're taking suggestions..."
Nolan moved without warning, closing the distance between them in three heavy strides. Each footfall resonated with the weight of the power armor, a dull thud against concrete. He stared down at Tony from his elevated position, his expression still locked in that same cold neutrality.
"Stark." His voice remained level, but there was an edge beneath it now, something harder and less patient. "I told you. I'm not in the mood for jokes. If you have something to say, say it. If not..." He paused deliberately. "Get out of here."
Tony's smile finally wavered, fading at the edges. He studied Nolan's face for a long moment, reading the tension in his jaw, the set of his shoulders, the absolute absence of humor in those eyes.
"Tsk." Tony clicked his tongue against his teeth, the sound sharp in the quiet. "Okay, buddy. I can see you're not in a good place right now, so I'll skip the warm-up." His own expression sobered, the playful mask dropping away to reveal something more sincere underneath. "Truth is, I needed to get out. Change of scenery. I've been drowning in classified SHIELD files for weeks, and honestly? I'm reaching the point where I'm seriously considering just... dismantling the entire organization. Right now. Today."
He shifted his weight, the armor's servos whirring softly with the movement. "But I also wanted to visit. Jarvis has been suggesting, rather insistently, that I should work on making actual friends." Tony's eyes locked onto Nolan's, his voice dropping into a more serious register. "And I had a feeling you might be dealing with something. Call it intuition. So here's my offer: as the world's first official superhero, as long as whatever you're facing isn't straight-up murder or arson... how about I volunteer my services? Pro bono. No strings attached."
The silence stretched for several heartbeats. Nolan's eyes narrowed slightly, studying Tony with an intensity that might have made a lesser man step backward.
Finally, Nolan drew a slow breath through his nose. When he spoke, his voice carried a weight of warning. "Stark. You can come inside." He paused, making sure the next words landed with full impact. "But don't say I didn't warn you about what you're about to see. Don't tell me later that you regret this."
Tony's chin lifted slightly, a hint of defiance entering his posture. "Regret? What's there to regret?" The corner of his mouth quirked upward, though it wasn't quite a smile anymore. "If you're doing something good, I'll help however I can. If you're doing something bad, I'll fight you on it. Nobody said superheroes have to succeed at every mission, right?" He shrugged, the gesture oddly vulnerable despite the armor encasing him. "That's kind of the job description, buddy."
The carefully groomed mustache on his face seemed to catch the light from the passage behind Nolan, creating an almost absurd contrast to the gravity of the moment.
Nolan's expression didn't change. He simply stared at Tony for one more long moment, as if memorizing this instant before everything shifted. Then he turned without another word, the blue power armor pivoting smoothly, and began walking back into the base's interior.
The heavy metal door remained open.
Tony glanced left, then right, as if checking for witnesses to what he was about to do. His shoulders rose and fell in a helpless shrug that no one was around to see. Then he stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the base, the stack of cheeseburgers still clutched in his armored hand.
The door closed behind him with a final, resonant boom.
Fifteen minutes had passed.
Tony sat at the metal round table, his posture rigid despite the casual sprawl he'd attempted initially. That facade had crumbled quickly. His eyes remained fixed on David, watching the images being projected from the Man of Iron's optical sensors.
Battle footage played across the air like a grim documentary. Frames of chaos in the slums. Glimpses of corrupted believers. The unmistakable evidence of something deeply, terribly wrong embedded in the heart of the city.
Blade had provided context, his voice steady and clinical. David had added tactical analysis, precise and unemotional. Between them, they'd painted a comprehensive picture of exactly what Nolan was facing.
Tony's hand drifted toward his mouth, an old nervous habit. His fingers reached for his nails, ready to chew, only to encounter the unyielding surface of his armor's gauntlet instead. He realized what he was doing and forced his hand back down.
His brow furrowed deeply. He exhaled slowly through his nose. When he spoke, his voice carried a strained attempt at levity that fooled absolutely no one.
"Ah. My dear friend." He cleared his throat. "I just remembered something. I, uh... I think I forgot to turn off the gas line at Stark Tower. That's actually a serious safety hazard. Maybe I should go handle that real quick..."
"What do you think?" Nolan's voice cut through the excuse like a blade. His expression remained completely neutral as he sat across the table, holding a cheeseburger. He'd already consumed one in a single bite moments earlier, barely chewing before swallowing. "Superhero?"
Perhaps the tension in the room had triggered some survival instinct, because Nolan's appetite had awakened with a vengeance. He picked up another burger from the pile Tony had brought, tearing away the paper wrapper with mechanical efficiency. He took a large bite, chewed twice, and swallowed.
Then he fixed Tony with that same cold stare. "In a few hours, my forces will reach the perimeter of the slum district. The evacuation operation begins immediately after that." He paused, letting the timeline sink in. "If you have any better strategies than what we're currently planning, now would be the time to share them. We're all listening."
Tony's frown deepened. He leaned forward slightly, his mind visibly racing through possibilities. His fingers drummed against the table's surface, a rapid staccato that betrayed his agitation.
"Let me think this through..." His words came slowly at first, building speed as he worked through the logic. "With my business connections and my status as a publicly recognized superhero, I could coordinate a large-scale joint operation. Get official government support involved. Maybe even..." He hesitated for just a fraction of a second. "Maybe even SHIELD. When we're dealing with supernatural threats, they should be willing to put aside past differences and..."
Nolan's laugh cut him off. It was sharp, bitter, utterly devoid of humor. He stopped mid-bite, the cheeseburger lowering from his mouth.
"Ha." The sound was almost a bark. "Tony. The officials in this city would be perfectly happy if every Mexican just dropped dead tomorrow. And the slums? They're packed with poor people and gang members. You really think those bureaucrats are going to spend millions of dollars and dedicate significant manpower to saving a demographic that generates zero profit for them?" His eyes bored into Tony's. "After you just said that out loud, do you even believe it yourself?"
He set the burger down with deliberate care, his voice gaining intensity. "Time. That's what we don't have. The Blood Coven's members aren't NPCs in some video game. They have functioning brains. They can think. They have legs, Tony. Some of them have wings." His jaw clenched. "The moment they realize the situation is turning against them, do you think they're just going to stand there and wait to be eliminated? They'll scatter. Disappear into the city. And then we'll be hunting individual cells for years while the infection spreads."
Tony's face cycled through several expressions in rapid succession: confusion, resistance, reluctant understanding, and finally a stubborn determination that suggested he wasn't ready to concede the argument.
He drew a deep breath, visibly steeling himself. "Okay. Fine. But..." He raised one finger. "There will be agents within SHIELD under Nick Fury's command who'd be willing to help with something like this. And even if we're talking about Hydra infiltrators, they don't want a world overrun by vampires either, right? Hydra's entire philosophy is about controlled order under their rule, not monster-driven chaos. We could leverage their manpower, use them without them even realizing..."
"And okay, even if that plan has holes, we could recruit independently. Gather people with powers. Metahumans, enhanced individuals, whatever you want to call them." His words came faster now, desperation creeping into his tone despite his attempts to sound confident. "We don't need to be picky. Good guys, bad guys, everyone in between. For the heroes, we appeal to their sense of duty, saving humanity and all that. For the villains, we just pay them. Straight-up mercenary contracts." He gestured broadly. "I can cover all operational costs. Money isn't an issue here..."
"Stark!" Nolan's voice exploded across the table like a thunderclap. His hands slammed down on the metal surface with enough force to make the remaining cheeseburgers jump. "Wake the fuck up! And put away that condescending, privileged attitude of yours!"
He surged to his feet, the chair scraping backward with a harsh screech. The power armor added to his already imposing height, making him loom over the table. His expression had transformed, features contorted with a fury that went beyond simple anger. This was frustration born from pressure, from impossible choices, from hearing well-meaning idiocy when lives hung in the balance.
"It's a slum with over one million people living in it! Half a million corrupted believers alone! How many metahumans do you think you can recruit, Twenty? Fifty? A hundred if you're incredibly lucky?" He leaned forward, his voice rising. "It's a drop in the fucking bucket! It's useless!"
His eyes blazed, that cyan lupine glow seeming to intensify with his rage. "And a group of untrained, undisciplined powered individuals with no combat coordination or tactical understanding? You're just sending them to die! They'll be slaughtered! And that's assuming you're dealing with regular enemies, not a cult of vampire-enhanced fanatics who've been preparing for conflict!"
The air in the room felt charged, crackling with tension. Tony remained seated, his face carefully blank now, but his jaw was tight and his hands had formed fists where they rested on the table.
Nolan's voice dropped slightly in volume but lost none of its intensity. "Letting you into this base was a massive mistake on my part."
He straightened, staring down at Tony with undisguised contempt. "A superhero? I think you're super stupid!"
The words landed like physical blows.
"This is a war of life and death, Stark! A war to exterminate a threat before it consumes everything! It's not some heroic spectacle where you can show up, strike a pose, and save the day with style!" His voice rose again on the last words, nearly a shout. "Do you understand that? Mr. Tony Stark! Do you actually fucking understand what we're dealing with here?"
The silence that followed was deafening.
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