Shang-Chi surfaced from the wreckage with the practiced efficiency of someone who treated the Pacific Ocean as a mild inconvenience.
He'd gone down twice, working through the debris field that had settled along the cliff face—twisted rebar, shattered armor plating, sections of flooring still recognizable as rooms. What he'd found down there was a graveyard of Iron Man suits: older models, three or four distinct designs, all of them cracked open from the impact and empty. He'd checked every one. No Tony.
He pulled himself up the cliff face and jogged toward the group gathering at the edge of the ruined foundation, water streaming off him. He had a battered Iron Man faceplate under his arm.
Smith and John Wick had arrived while he was underwater. He could tell by the wall of press activity near the road—cameras, microphones, reporters pressing in from every angle. Smith was already in the middle of it.
"—until Tony is found, we cannot say he's been killed."
A reporter pushed a microphone closer. "But he's been missing for—"
"He's Iron Man." Smith handed the mic back and walked away.
John Wick had already cleared a path. Smith came through it and reached Pepper, who stepped forward the moment she saw him.
"GOD." Her composure was intact, but only just. "He's gone. He's not responding to anything."
"He's fine," Smith said. Not a comfort—a statement. "You'll hear from him."
Maya Hansen stood a few feet back, watching Smith with the particular alertness of someone deciding something.
Shang-Chi came up beside them. "Mr. Smith. Xialing sends her apologies—she's coordinating from the other side of the scene."
Smith nodded. "Are the rest of the Paragons here?"
"Just the two of us. The others are still working the Mandarin investigation sites. We'll have something soon." He turned to Pepper and held out the faceplate. "I checked the entire debris field. No body. I found multiple older suit models—all empty." He gave her a moment to register it. "My best read is that Mr. Stark is already gone from here. Probably going after leads."
Pepper took the faceplate carefully. Some of the tension in her jaw eased. "He doesn't even know where to look. He didn't have anything solid before the attack."
"He had Tennessee," Smith said.
She looked at him.
"He found a thermal signature match in Rose Hill before the helicopters arrived. If JARVIS was still running when he went into the water, the flight plan was already set." He paused. "Tony went where the evidence pointed. That's what he does."
Xu Xialing approached from behind Shang-Chi, catching the tail end of it. She'd been moving fast since she arrived—too much energy, not enough target. The Mandarin investigation had been her responsibility, and now Tony's house was rubble. She kept her expression even but didn't entirely succeed.
"Ms. Potts," she said carefully. "Before Happy was hurt, Tony passed me intelligence directly. Then this." She gestured at the destroyed cliff. "Someone has access they shouldn't. I'm not pointing fingers—I'm checking my own operation too—but I'd recommend a full audit of Tony's security systems before he resurfaces."
Pepper absorbed this with the efficiency of someone who ran a global corporation. "Agreed. I'll pull the logs."
Smith glanced at Maya.
It was a brief look—measured, quiet. But Maya caught it, and the color left her face.
Pepper noticed the change and reached over to squeeze Maya's hand, misreading it. "You're still in shock. It's understandable."
Smith didn't correct her.
He knew Maya Hansen's story. The Extremis researcher—the one who'd built the foundational science while Killian built the money and the organization around it. She'd tried to protect Tony once in a version of events that no longer applied, and Killian had killed her for it. Here, now, she was standing at the wreckage of Tony's house and clearly working through the calculation of what she knew versus what she could afford to keep quiet.
The formula itself was worth something, once the instability problem was solved. Tissue regeneration, full limb regrowth, accelerated healing—strip the explosive side effect out of it and Extremis wasn't a weapon. It was medicine.
He'd give her the chance to make the right call.
The drive back to the compound was quiet at first. John Wick drove. Smith took the passenger seat. Pepper and Maya sat in the back with the distance of two people who didn't know each other well enough to share silence comfortably.
Pepper broke it. "What did you want to tell Tony? You said it was urgent."
Maya looked at her hands. She'd been building to this since the villa, working up to a version of it that didn't implicate her too badly. The problem was that Smith Doyle was sitting three feet in front of her, and she had the distinct sense that whatever she said, whatever she left out, he already knew most of it.
She made her decision.
"I think my employer is connected to the Mandarin."
Pepper went still. "Connected how?"
"If you want the full picture, I'd rather wait until we're somewhere secure." She glanced at the front seat. "Though I suppose this qualifies."
Smith gave a single nod, eyes on the road ahead. "We're secure. Talk."
Maya took a slow breath. "My employer is Aldrich Killian. You might know the name—AIM. Advanced Idea Mechanics. He's been funding my research for years." She paused. "The research is called Extremis. It started as genetic editing applied to plant biology. That's why Tony called me a botanist the night we met—that's what I was working on then. Over the last decade, Killian pushed me to adapt it for human application."
Pepper's eyes moved, something clicking into place. "Killian came to Stark Industries yesterday. He pitched something to me—bioelectric tissue regeneration."
"That's the public version," Maya said. "The real application goes further. Extremis rewrites the body's cellular repair protocols. It can regenerate damaged tissue, regrow lost limbs, reverse structural trauma that would otherwise be permanent." A pause. "But it has a side effect. If the subject's body temperature spikes—stress response, physical trauma, emotional overload—the thermal regulation fails. The body temperature rises beyond what the formula can compensate for."
She didn't need to finish the sentence. Pepper was already finishing it herself.
"The explosions," Pepper said quietly. "The ones the Mandarin claimed. No bomb casings. No devices." She pressed her fingers to her mouth. "It was Extremis subjects."
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