Pepper Potts drove through the coastal roads to Tony's Malibu villa with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd made this trip a thousand times. The newly installed security systems recognized her vehicle immediately, gates sliding open without requiring confirmation.
She descended to the workshop, where the replacement door, necessary after Tony's various "experiments" had destroyed the original, stood pristine and unmarked. For now.
Inside, she found Tony exactly where she'd expected: hunched over the Mark IV prototype, his hands deep in its chest cavity, making minute adjustments to the arc reactor housing. He didn't look up when the door opened, so absorbed in his work that the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
"Tony," Pepper called out, her voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space.
He glanced up, recognized her, and straightened with a slight wince, his back protesting hours spent in awkward positions. "Pepper. Good timing. I need you to expedite that equipment order for Smith. Get it shipped as soon as possible."
He crossed to a workbench and began sorting through technical schematics. "Also, Smith's launching a product soon. Contact them and check on their company setup. If they need help with permits, regulatory compliance, business relationships, use Stark Industries' name and resources. Make it easy for them."
Pepper's eyebrow arched. Tony rarely offered that level of support to anyone outside his immediate circle. "That's unusually generous."
Tony's grin carried a hint of competitive edge. "I want to see what this Bulma has developed that's got Smith so confident. Call it professional curiosity."
Pepper opened the folder she'd been carrying, scanning the procurement list. "The equipment order is already in process. Though I have to say, the request is... extensive. We're talking several billion dollars in specialized scientific equipment."
She looked up from the paperwork, her expression turning serious. "Some of these items aren't commercially available. We're bending regulations pretty hard to acquire them, even with Stark Industries' influence. It would help if there were some kind of official business relationship between us and whoever's receiving this equipment."
Tony waved a dismissive hand. "I'll discuss it with Smith. We can work something out."
"Who is Bulma?" Pepper asked, genuine curiosity coloring her voice. "Smith's head of R&D?"
Tony's expression soured slightly at the memory of being called "uncle." "A sixteen-year-old girl, apparently. Smith claims she's his chief scientist. All that equipment is supposedly for her projects."
Pepper's jaw dropped. For a moment, she just stared at Tony, processing that information. "I'm sorry, sixteen? Years old?"
"That's what he said."
"Tony, is Smith Doyle being conned?" Pepper's voice took on the sharp edge of someone who'd seen every variety of corporate fraud. "A teenage 'genius' getting billions in funding? That screams scientific research scam. And even if something does go wrong, she's a minor, limited legal liability."
Tony shrugged, though a hint of doubt flickered across his features. "We'll see what results they produce. I'm keeping expectations appropriately low for someone that young, even if she is supposedly brilliant."
He shifted topics abruptly, his tone becoming more serious. "Speaking of which, are you free right now? I need your help with something."
Pepper's instincts immediately went on alert. When Tony asked for "help" in that particular tone, it usually meant something ethically questionable. "What kind of help?"
Tony moved to a nearby workbench and retrieved a small device from a locked drawer. It looked like a USB drive, but the subtle blue glow suggested far more sophisticated technology. "I need you to access my office computer. Hack into the main system and pull all recent shipping manifests."
He held out the device. "This will get you past security. Look in the administrative folders first. If you can't find them there, check for hidden partitions, the one with the smallest storage allocation."
Pepper took the device slowly, turning it over in her hands. Her eyes narrowed. "If I retrieve that data, what exactly are you planning to do with it?"
Tony returned to the Mark IV, his hands resuming their work on the armor's internal systems. He didn't look at her when he answered. "Obadiah's been running under-the-table weapons deals. Same pattern as always, selling to anyone with enough money, regardless of their intentions or affiliations."
His jaw tightened. "I'm going to stop him. Track down my weapons wherever they've ended up, and destroy them personally."
Pepper felt something heavy settle in her chest. She'd known this was coming, had seen it building since Tony's return from Afghanistan, since his press conference announcing the end of weapons manufacturing. But hearing him say it out loud made it real.
"Tony," she said quietly, "you know I'd do anything for you. I've proven that over the years."
She paused, weighing her words carefully. "But if you keep going down this path... I can't help you anymore. I won't."
Tony continued working on the armor, his voice flat. "This is what I'm doing now. No more ribbon-cutting ceremonies, no more charity galas, no more corporate paperwork. This mission, stopping the weapons, fixing my mistakes, that's all that matters."
He stopped working and turned to face her directly, his expression intense. "This is my only priority."
Pepper met his gaze for a long moment, emotions warring across her face. Then she threw the device onto the workbench with more force than necessary.
"Then I quit."
She turned and strode toward the door, her heels clicking sharply against the concrete floor.
"Really?" Tony's voice stopped her mid-step. "All these years, you've been my assistant while I made weapons that destroyed lives. Helped me profit from that destruction. Now I'm trying to make things right, and you're walking away?"
Pepper spun around, anger and fear mingling in her expression. "You're going to get yourself killed, Tony! You're going after dangerous people, terrorists, arms dealers, warlords, and you want me to help you commit suicide?"
Her voice broke slightly. "I refuse to be complicit in that."
Tony dropped into his desk chair, his earlier intensity draining away into something more vulnerable. "I should have died in that cave, Pepper. The only reason I didn't is because I finally found something worth living for."
He looked up at her, and the raw honesty in his eyes made her breath catch. "I'm not crazy. For the first time in my life, I actually understand what I should be doing. What I need to be doing."
His voice dropped lower. "I talked with Smith about this. He said justice must be achieved with your own hands, even when the path is lined with thorns. Even when it costs you everything."
Tony's hands spread helplessly. "I don't have a choice, Pepper. Not one I can live with."
Pepper stood frozen in the doorway, torn between self-preservation and loyalty, between fear and love. She took a shuddering breath, then walked back to the workbench. Her hand closed around the device she'd thrown down moments before.
She looked at Tony with an expression that mixed exasperation, affection, and resignation. "You're impossible. You know that?"
Her voice softened. "But you're my impossible. I don't have anyone else."
Relief flooded Tony's features, though he tried to hide it with a casual nod.
Pepper tucked the device into her jacket pocket, then remembered the other reason for her visit. "Before I go commit corporate espionage for you, there's something you should know. Our stock price has been fluctuating, overall decline since your weapons announcement, but there's been unusual activity recently."
She pulled up data on her tablet. "Someone's been aggressively buying Stark Industries shares. Not just secondary market purchases, they're positioning for what looks like a significant acquisition. Multiple shell companies, coordinated purchasing patterns."
Tony's attention sharpened. "Who?"
"Smith Doyle."
Tony's tension evaporated into a laugh. "Of course, it is. He saw the Mark suit, knows what it represents. Anyone with half a brain would realize the stock's about to skyrocket." He tapped the arc reactor in his chest. "He's betting on this. On me."
The irony wasn't lost on him, Smith had shorted Stark Industries stock before the weapons announcement, making a fortune when the price dropped, and now was going long by accumulating shares before the inevitable rise. "The man's going to make money coming and going. Have to respect the strategy."
Pepper studied his face, reading his lack of concern. "You're not worried about a major shareholder acquisition?"
"He saved my life. If he wants to profit from that, I'm fine with it." Tony shrugged. "Besides, we've been buying back shares too. Let him have his position."
Pepper nodded slowly. Smith as a major shareholder was probably preferable to most alternatives, at least he and Tony had a relationship built on mutual respect rather than pure financial interest.
She headed for the door again, this time with purpose rather than anger. "I'll get you those shipping manifests."
Tony watched her go, a smile playing at his lips. Pepper Potts, brilliant, principled, loyal to a fault. He didn't deserve her, but he was profoundly grateful she'd chosen to stay.
Pepper drove back to Stark Industries headquarters with her mind racing. The device Tony had given her felt heavy in her pocket, weighted with implications beyond its physical mass. Corporate espionage against her own company, initiated by the CEO himself.
The things she did for that man.
She entered Tony's executive office, her keys still worked, of course, and locked the door behind her. The space was immaculate, untouched since Tony had essentially abandoned traditional corporate responsibilities. Pepper settled into his chair, the leather still carrying a faint trace of his cologne.
The laptop on the desk required a password to boot. Standard security protocol.
Pepper withdrew Tony's device and connected it to the USB port. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the screen flickered, lines of code cascading faster than human reading speed. The laptop's security systems activated, detection protocols firing warnings.
"Warning: Security system compromised," an automated voice announced through the laptop's speakers.
"Warning: Security breach detected."
More code streamed across the screen, Tony's device overriding every defensive measure with brutal efficiency.
"System compromised. Access granted."
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