Saint Petersburg State University

With his long hair pulled back into a tail and sporting a goatee, Ivan Vanko seemed out of place dressed in a suit as he stood at the front of the lecture hall. The projector screen showed several images of suits of armor.

“The Crimson Dynamo, Airstrike, the Titanium Man, all these and others were attempts at recreating one thing.” Vanko pushed a button on the remote and the computer projecting the images changed to another one. This time, the suit of armor in question was red and gold. “The American Avenger Iron Man.”

“Yet in all these years, every time some individual or organization comes close to matching the Iron Man, Tony Stark jumps ten steps ahead, creating a more advanced suit and leaving the rest of us to play catch-up.

“These days, the Russian government has more or less ceased its efforts to match Stark. There have been a string of Crimson Dynamos, virtually all of them deceased. The Titanium Man armor is still in the possession of its original pilot, Boris Bullski, who has since become a mercenary for hire. And Dynamo prototypes have found their way into the hands of a few highly influential terrorist organizations, such as Hydra and AIM.”

He pushed another button and the slideshow ended. “Lights.”

The lights in the lecture hall came on, allowing Vanko to see the faces of the students who now watched him intently. “That concludes our topic on the use of powered exoskeletons in Russian military history. Are there any questions?”

Hands all over the room went up. Vanko sighed and adjusted his glasses. “Any questions that have nothing to do with my father?”

The hands slowly went down, one by one. Vanko nodded. “In that case, you are dismissed.”

The students gathered their books and notes and filed from the lecture hall. Vanko closed down his laptop and slid it into the case, when he noticed one additional student lingering. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Very interesting lecture, Professor Vanko,” said the man, but he spoke in perfect English. Vanko was taken by surprise, but adjusted appropriately.

“Who are you?”

The man just smiled at him. “I’d like to talk to about your father.”

“My father is dead. His memory has been dragged through the mud ever since by self-serving politicians,” said Vanko. “Let him rest in peace.”

“I’m not here to tarnish your father’s memory any more than it already has been, Professor. Rather, I’m here to help you redeem it.”

“And how exactly do you propose to do that, Mister…?”

The man snickered. “My name isn’t important, Professor Vanko. I’m just a man, like you, whose reputation has been tarnished by Tony Stark.”

“Stark and my father were friends,” said Vanko. “My father defected in order to work with Stark. He died protecting Stark. And now you mean to tell me that Stark is the one at fault?”

“As you know, Tony Stark is a genius. And a master strategist as well. He’s conned everyone from politicians to captains of industry to scientists, even his fellow superheroes. He convinced your father to defect because he convinced him that if he returned to Russia in disgrace, Anton would be executed. Many pilots since have failed and yet lived to tell the tale.

“But your father believe Stark. Defected to the west and began working for who else but Tony Stark himself. Stark profited off your father’s hard work and you have received…what from him?”

Vanko remained silent as he listened to the man continue.

“I’m assuming Stark tossed you some sort of meager stock offering, right?”

Vanko removed his glasses as he shook his head.

“No?” asked the man with apparent shock in his tone. “Maybe pension benefits from your father’s brief employ? Life insurance?”

“No.”

“A gift certificate?”

Vanko fixed his stare on this stranger. “Nothing.”

The man rubbed his chin. “Well…there you have it. Tony Stark took your father away from you. Then engineered his death after your father no longer proved useful.”

“What do you want?” asked Vanko.

“Your father was once the world’s foremost expert on electricity. A genius ahead of his time, right?”

Vanko nodded. “To this day, many physicists cannot duplicate work he did fifteen years ago.”

“But you can. Word is that you’re quite the genius yourself, Professor. And you’ve studied the field of armored exoskeletons quite extensively. If there’s anyone who knows as much about them as Stark, it would be you.”

“What do you have in mind?” asked Vanko.

WHIPLASH

Part I

By Dino Pollard

Stark Tower

“Mr. Stark!?”

Tony smiled at the hanging jaw, belonging to his personal assistant, Haruto Ayumu. The young Japanese man had entered Stark’s office no doubt with the expectation that his employer would still be recovering at his Gold Coast mansion. He nearly dropped his tablet when he was met with a shock.

“What’s wrong, Haruto?” Tony sat with his legs propped up on his desk. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, he wore no tie, and his jacket hung on a rack in the corner. Surrounding his desk were a series of holographic monitors that held no obvious means of control.

“I-I thought you were still…umm…y’know…”

Tony cocked his eyebrow. “Groaning while wrapped in a body cast?”

Haruto stared at his feet. “Recovering is the word I was thinking of, sir.”

“Probably just upset your brief vacation is over and now it’s time to get back to work,” said Tony.

Haruto walked to the desk and stared at the blank surface. “Pardon me, sir…but how are you doing that?”

“Thanks to Extremis, the Iron Man armor has now been integrated into my body. I can control everything in this building with my mind. No need for a keyboard.”

Haruto blinked a few times in shock. Tony chuckled. “Relax, kid. You look like your eyes are about to pop out of your sockets.”

The young man’s cheeks reddened. “I-I’m sorry, sir, just surprised is all.”

“Don’t sweat it. What’ve we got on the docket for today?”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you, but I can shuffle some things around…” Haruto fumbled with his tablet, trying to act quickly on his feet.

Tony waited patiently, but the new senses provided by the Extremis dataspine notified him of an incoming call. “Hold that thought, Haru. This is Stark.”

Haruto was surprised as his boss seemingly began talking to himself. It took him a moment to realize that if the Extremis can allow Tony to control computers with his mind, that must also mean communications technology. The frown on Stark’s face suggested that it wasn’t someone he wanted to speak with.

“Maria Hill,” he said. “Don’t I hear from you enough as is?”

“Stark, save the posturing for later. We’ve got a situation—a big one.”

“What are we looking at?” Instantly, Stark’s tone shifted from snarky to professional.

“Get your little suit on and report to Avengers Island ten minutes ago.”

“I need to know what I’m getting into.” As Tony continued to speak, the golden under sheath of the armor emerged from its storage location in the hollows of his bones. It emerged painlessly through his pores and flowed over his entire body, including his clothes, like metallic honey. Within a few moments, Tony was covered from head to toe in gleaming, gold skin.

“We think some unfriendlies may have gotten their hands on Starktech.”

Tony’s face went white as a panel on the wall slid up, revealing the outer components of the armor. They were magnetically carried from their housing and affixed themselves to the gold skin. The large, bay windows slid open and Iron Man rocketed into the air.

“I’m en route.”

As his boss departed, Haruto stood there watching with a smile on his face. When the windows closed, Haruto sat down at Tony’s desk and laid his tablet on the surface. One of the apps he opened displayed a Stark mainframe login and password prompt. Another window opened up above it with a series of code running down in rapid succession. One character at a time, the login information appeared in the box, followed by the password. The code window displayed a DECRYPTION COMPLETE message and Haruto hit the LOG IN button.

Haruto smiled as the file system of Tony Stark’s private server displayed on his tablet. “Okay, Mr. Stark. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Avengers Island

Maria Hill stood at the peak of the Island’s observation tower. In addition to her SHIELD uniform, she also wore a pair of reflective sunglasses, watching the morning sky. She saw a red streak on the horizon coming right towards her.

Iron Man landed a few feet away from her on the deck. The faceplate of his helmet slid up. “What are we dealing with, Maria?”

“I’ve got the information right he—” began Hill, but Iron Man cut her off.

“I said Maria, not you.”

Hill was taken aback, especially as the information on her tablet was suddenly displayed as a holographic projection between the two. A holographic image of a woman appeared next to it.

“What’s going on here?” asked Hill.

“This is Maria, my personal AI,” said Iron Man. “Why would you think I was talking to you?”

“Maybe because my name is Maria, too?”

Tony wrinkled his brow. “Your first name is Maria? You mean you actually have a first name?”

Hill rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. “Always a pleasure dealing with you, Stark.”

[According to the information on Agent Hill’s tablet, there was a recent pushback against protestors in Syria by the government.]

“And Starktech was involved?” asked Tony.

[Perhaps not Starktech, but something almost as advanced.]

“Syria’s R&D isn’t advanced enough to give them a Beetle suit, let alone a Stark one,” said Hill. “But then again, word has it you almost got your ass kicked by a junkie in a Beetle suit?”

Tony glared at her. “You know, as Avengers’ chairman, I am a the leader of a sovereign nation. I could have you deported.”

Hill’s grin was sardonic. “I’m your SHIELD liaison, Stark. That means I’ve got diplomatic immunity.”

“I’ve got that, too. Makes parking in New York a breeze,” said Tony. “Do your analysts have anything on this?”

She shook her head. “AIM is the likely offender, but they don’t have anything this advanced.

“Maria, plot a course to Syria, I’ll have to see what I can find there,” said Tony.

“Whoa now, hold on a minute, Stark.” Hill stood in front of Iron Man to prevent him from taking off in such close proximity. “You can’t just barge into a foreign country, it could be seen as an act of aggression on the part of the Avengers.”

“What would you suggest?”

“We have to approach this through diplomatic channels, or at least find a way to be more covert about it,” said Hill.

“Diplomacy and espionage are your areas of expertise, Hill. You do things your way, I’ll do them mine.” Iron Man pushed past her and his thrusters carried him over the Atlantic.

“Asshole,” muttered Hill. She activated her Bluetooth headset. “This is Agent Hill, we’ve got a situation.”

Saint Petersburg

Ivan Vanko hooked up the wires to the long cable, connecting them to the power source—a miniature arc reactor. He activated the reactor and the cable lit up, sparking with hundreds of thousands of volts of pure electricity, generated by the small device.

He smiled and looked at his reflection in the silver helmet. Soon, his father’s legacy would get a new lease on life. And by now, news of the incident in Syria had no doubt reached Iron Man.

The end of Tony Stark was just beginning.

Queens

Happy Hogan pounded his gloved fists against the punching bag. The gym was deserted, save for him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but he knew it had to have been at least a few hours.

He paused, panting as he held the bag to steady it. Happy took off his gloves and walked over to the vacant boxing ring. He grabbed his towel that rested there and wiped the sweat from his face with one hand before taking a long gulp from his water bottle.

Happy fixed his gaze on the ring for a few moments, his mind drifting back to those days. Things were so much simpler then. Just him and his opponent, facing off against each other. No superheroes, no miscarriages, no wife or ex-wife or whatever Pepper was.

“Mr. Hogan.”

A new voice. Happy turned and saw a slender man standing in the light of the open doorway. He had short hair and handsome, young features. “I know you?” asked Happy.

“In a manner of speaking.” He reached into his jacket. Happy flinched, a reflex from his days as a bodyguard. But the man just pulled out a business card. Happy took it from him and read it.

“Sinclair Abbot?” Happy shook his head. “Sorry pal, never heard’a ya.”

Abbot smiled. “I’m new in town. And I have need of a man of your talents.”

“What talents would those be?”

“Security,” said Abbot. “As a man who has worked with Tony Stark for quite some time, you have no doubt learned a lot about keeping one’s house safe, haven’t you?”

Happy held the card in one hand and flicked it with the other. “I do okay.”

“I’d like you to come work for me,” said Abbot.

Happy chuckled and held the card out. “Look Mr. Abbot, I appreciate the offer. But I gotta job.”

“I see,” said Abbot. Happy tried to give him the card back, but Abbot backed off. “No please, hold onto it. I’d like you to think about it a little.”

“Well hard to do that, you haven’t told me a whole lot.”

“It pays more than your current position, and I believe I can provide a working environment that’s not so…tense,” said Abbot.

Happy crossed his arms. “An’ what’s that s’pposed to mean?”

“Oh nothing, just that it must be difficult. Working with your ex-wife and her new lover.”

Happy’s jaw gaped. “You wanna run that by me again?”

Abbot paused, gasping slightly. “…you mean you don’t know?”

Happy moved forward. “Know what?”

Abbot shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hogan. Please accept my apologies, it’s not my place.”

He walked for the exit with Happy following. “Hey, wait up!”

“I’m sorry, I really must be going,” said Abbot. “I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I fear I already have.”

“Yeah, bu—”

Happy stopped, just standing there as Sinclair Abbot left the gym in a hurry. He looked down at the business card again, and grit his teeth. “Tony, I swear t’ Christ, if you been lyin’ t’ me…”

Syria

Iron Man cruised over the Middle East, entering Syrian airspace. An image of Maria was projected in one corner of his HUD as she spoke to him. [Tony, I feel I should warn you that we’ve gotten a number of urgent calls from Agent Hill on Avengers Island.]

“I know, and I want you to continue ignoring them,” said Iron Man.

[Perhaps it’d be best to consider Agent Hill’s suggestion? Pursue this through diplomatic channels?]

“Maria, Syria’s military is one of the most secretive on the planet. If they’ve got their hands on Starktech, they aren’t going to let me in without a fight. And if it’s a fight they want—”

An alarm blared on Tony’s HUD. [Tony, we have incomi—]

A surface-to-air missile from one of Syria’s ground-based launchers slammed into Iron Man, blowing on impact. He fell for a few moments before slowing his descent with his thrusters.

[If you’re still alive, there’s someone trying to talk to you.]

“Hill?”

[I believe it’s the Syrian armed forces.]

“Put them through,” said Iron Man. Arabic was pumped into his ears and Tony sighed. “Maria, I meant translate first.”

“You are trespassing in Syrian airspace. Identify yourself or we will fire again.”

“Couldn’t say that before you shot a missile up my ass?” muttered Iron Man. “Maria, don’t translate that.”

“Repeat, identify yourself.”

“This is Iron Man of the Avengers. You’re suspected to be in possession of restricted technology.”

“The Syrian Arab Republic is a sovereign nation. Should the Avengers violate our sovereignty, we shall view it as an act of war.”

“I’m landing, we can discuss this on the ground,” said Iron Man. He continued his descent into the capital city of Damascus. Once he touched down, the armed forces were already there, guns aimed at him. Iron Man’s faceplate slid up. “I don’t want to hurt your people, so let’s talk about this.”

[Tony, behind you!]

Iron Man’s faceplate snapped back down and he spun just as a repulsor blast engulfed him. He was thrown by the blast and when he recovered, he saw an armored figure hovering above him, clad in a crude suit of armor.

“Repulsor tech, you do realize that’s patented, right?” asked Iron Man. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyers. Once you get out of intensive care, that is.”

To be continued…