Ivan Vanko, a man who had just been a god, was now just… a man, blinking in the sudden, humiliating nakedness of his failed vengeance. He looked at the scattered, useless pieces of his life's work, his mind unable to process what had just happened.
He could, however, still recognize an enemy. He glared at Tony, his eyes burning with a lifetime of inherited hatred. He knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that this was Stark's doing. This new, impossible, and deeply unfair trick.
"This armor…" he growled, his voice a low, desperate rasp, "it is Hammer. A product of Hammer Industries. It has nothing to do with me."
He was a Vanko. He had failed. But he would not, in this final, humiliating moment, allow a Stark to mock the quality of his work.
Tony just looked at him, at the pathetic, desperate attempt to preserve the last, tattered shred of his pride. And for the first time, he didn't feel anger or triumph. He just felt… tired.
"I know, Ivan," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I know it wasn't you."
"You have to tell them!" Vanko insisted, his voice cracking. "You must testify. This… this junk. It is not my work!"
"I will," Tony said. And he meant it.
Vanko nodded, a fraction of the tension leaving his body. "In exchange," he said, a new, cold light in his eyes, "a secret. The drones… all of them… they are rigged to self-destruct."
Tony's blood ran cold. He ripped his helmet's faceplate back down. "Jarvis, pull up the drone locations. Now!"
The HUD lit up. A sea of small, red icons, representing the thirty-odd Hammer drones that had just been disabled, were scattered across the Expo grounds. And one of them, a flashing, urgent red, was in the center of the Japanese garden. Right next to a small, blue icon labeled 'Potts.'
"No," he whispered. He slammed his thrusters to their maximum, a desperate, guttural roar in his throat as he launched himself into the sky.
"Rhodey, keep an eye on Vanko!" he yelled, his voice a distorted, panicked shriek. "Pepper! Pepper, can you hear me?!"
The call connected. "Tony? Oh my God, are you okay? What happened?" Her voice was a beacon of calm in his storm of terror.
"Pepper, listen to me!" he yelled, pushing the suit faster than it was ever meant to go. "The drones! They're going to explode! Get away from them! Run! Now!"
He heard her sharp, sudden intake of breath. And then, he heard a new sound through the comm. A high-pitched, frantic beep-beep-beep-beep, the unmistakable, universal sound of a bomb arming itself.
"Tony…" she whispered.
It was too late.
From a mile away, he saw it. A brilliant, white-hot flash erupted from the garden, a miniature sun that vaporized everything in a ten-meter radius. The shockwave hit him a second later, a physical blow that sent his armor tumbling through the air.
"NO!"
The word was a raw, primal scream, ripped from a place of pure, unadulterated agony. His mind went blank. The world dissolved into a white, static haze of grief.
The flames and smoke cleared. And he saw her.
She was standing in the center of the blackened, smoking crater, her white suit pristine, untouched, her hand clutched to her chest. She was alive.
The relief was so sudden, so profound, that his suit's systems almost stalled out from the whiplash. He crashed to the ground in a clumsy, uncontrolled landing, his armor groaning in protest. He ripped his helmet off and ran to her, his legs shaking.
"Pepper! Are you hurt? Are you okay?" he demanded, his hands fluttering over her, checking for injuries he couldn't see.
"I… I don't think so," she stammered, her own voice trembling with a delayed, profound shock.
"Jarvis, scan her! Full medical!"
"Miss Potts is in perfect health, sir," the AI replied. "No external or internal injuries detected. Vitals are stable, if slightly elevated."
"But how?" Tony breathed, his mind struggling to catch up. "The explosion… you were at ground zero."
"I…" Pepper began, her hand still clutching the small, metal ball at her neck. "I think… I think it was this."
She held up the necklace. The Golden Snitch. A gift from Hermione.
"The moment the bomb went off," she explained, her voice full of a dazed, religious awe, "it just… it glowed. A warm, golden light. It wrapped around me. I didn't feel a thing. It saved me, Tony. She saved me."
Tony stared at the small, magical trinket. The little wizard. The kid he had argued with, the kid he had underestimated at every single turn… she had just saved the most important person in his life. From half a world away.
A new, unfamiliar, and deeply humbling emotion settled over him. Gratitude.
"She… she must be back," Pepper said, a new urgency in her voice. "We have to find her. We have to make sure she's okay." She was already running, pulling him by the hand.
"Pep, slow down," Tony said, laughing with a joy and relief so profound it made him dizzy. "She's not the one who just got blown up. I promise you, of all the people we know, that kid is the last one we ever need to worry about."
They arrived back at the Stark Tower penthouse, still high on adrenaline and relief. The first thing they saw was Happy Hogan, Tony's bodyguard, standing in the middle of the living room, a look of profound, existential confusion on his face.
"Happy?" Tony asked. "What's wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost."
"I… I don't know, boss," Happy stammered. "The young lady, the one with the… the robes. She just… appeared. Right here. In the middle of the room."
Tony and Pepper exchanged a look. She's here.
"She looked around," Happy continued, his voice getting more and more bewildered. "She asked if S.H.I.E.L.D. had dropped off any 'materials.' I told her no, no one's been by."
"And then?" Pepper asked, a nervous smile on her face.
"And then," Happy said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "she got really, really angry. She muttered something about a 'useless, one-eyed, boiled egg.' And then… and then, boss, I swear… she just turned into a gust of wind and flew out the window."
Tony and Pepper just stared at him, then at each other.
"A gust of wind?" Tony finally asked.
"A really fast, really angry gust of wind," Happy confirmed, nodding his head slowly, as if questioning his own sanity.
PLS SUPPORT ME AND THROW POWERSTONES .