"Who is she?"
Christina could feel the strength in Barbara's well-toned arm. That kind of power wasn't something an ordinary woman could resist.
She guessed softly, "Is she your bodyguard?"
"Bodyguard?"
Barbara's eyes flickered for an instant, then a sly idea formed. With a graceful spin, she placed herself directly in front of Jack Kadere, her lips curving upward in a teasing smile.
"That's right," she declared proudly. "I am Jack's personal bodyguard."
Christina turned toward Jack in surprise. "Is that true?"
Jack blinked innocently. "Is… she not…?"
Barbara squeezed his hand firmly from behind and leaned in, still smiling sweetly. "She is~"
Her small hand secretly pulled Jack's palm against her chest, pressing it down firmly. A mischievous thrill ran through her at the sensation, while Jack's lips stretched into a sly smile of his own.
"Ah, yes!" he said smoothly. "Barbara is my bodyguard… my very personal kind."
"Oh, I see."
Christina's gaze lingered on Barbara's beauty, and she instantly understood the hidden meaning behind Jack's words. Her heart sank a little, but she wasn't ready to surrender.
"There's no need for this rivalry, Ms. Barbara," she said softly. "We could… be together."
Barbara's lips twitched as her thoughts flared: Shameless…
"See you next time, Madam," Barbara replied curtly. With that, she tugged Jack's hand and whisked him away, leaving a fuming Christina behind.
"You! Hey!" Christina called after them, but she couldn't chase without completely losing her composure. Again, she had failed. Shoulders sagging, she could only retreat in frustration.
...
Meanwhile, Barbara pressed herself into Jack's arms, fully taking Christina's place and indulging in what the Agent had failed to achieve.
Jack, unsurprisingly, was very pleased. Without hesitation, he pulled Barbara into her temporary guest room.
....
Barbara's Room
"Don't—"
Barbara's voice trembled as she squirmed in Jack's hold, shaking her head as though to resist. Only moments earlier she had sent a message to Natasha to meet here and exchange intel. If Natasha walked in right now—
But Jack didn't care. His fingers tangled in her hair as he tilted her face upward, letting those tempting red lips draw closer…
And so, when Natasha finally arrived, she pushed the door open expecting a quiet briefing—only to freeze at the sight before her.
Barbara tore herself away from Jack, her face flushed. "Mmm… ahh… Natasha, you're here…"
Coughing awkwardly, she shoved Jack back and straightened her clothes. "Let's stop here… I'll go out for a walk with Natasha."
....
Balcony of the Banquet Hall
Two graceful figures leaned against the marble railing, golden hair brushing against reddish-brown as the night breeze swirled between them.
"Barbara…"
After a pause, Natasha broke the silence. "Is this really how you… gather information?"
"Cough, cough…" Barbara's cheeks colored. She turned away, embarrassed. "Didn't you once say beauty can also be a weapon…?"
Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose. "Not like this. Barbara, this is reckless. You're an excellent Agent—throwing yourself into something like that is hardly professional."
Barbara's eyes softened as she gazed toward the racetrack below. "I don't know, Natasha. It's just… I didn't feel disgusted. If it had been anyone else, I'd never have allowed it. Only him…"
Natasha studied her carefully. This isn't a mission at all, she realized. Barbara wasn't playing a role—she was acting from genuine feeling. Still, Natasha knew better than to interfere in matters of the heart disguised as "assignments." She said nothing more.
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh!
Engines roared from the track below. Natasha leaned forward. "The race has started."
Barbara's eyes lit up as she spotted Jack slipping into his striking racing suit and sliding into the driver's seat. His car lined up directly ahead of Doctor Strange. Nearby, Pepper Potts frantically tried to stop Tony Stark from joining the race, but Iron Man, of course, wouldn't listen.
....
On the Starting Line
Tony revved his engine with a grin. "Ready, boys?"
Jack's smile was calm, almost mysterious. "I'm ready."
A talisman etched with the figure of a rat appeared in his hand. He pressed it firmly against the inner wall of his car, the paper glowing faintly before vanishing.
Strange eyed his own emerald-green car, then glanced at Jack's crimson machine. "I like your red one better, Jack. Want to trade?"
"Scram," Jack shot back flatly.
"Three…" "Two…" "One—!"
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The cars blasted forward in a blur of color, a thunderous surge rushing down the track.
"Maybe I won't be champion," Tony boasted over the comms, already overtaking several cars, "but I'll definitely be faster than you two!"
"Hahaha!"
Jack's voice came steady: "Yes, Tony. You are the fastest man."
Strange chuckled dryly. "Doctor's advice—being too fast isn't always good for you."
"Shut up, both of you!" Tony snapped as Strange's car crept up on him. "Jack, do we need to wait for you back there?"
Jack sighed. "I had hoped to enjoy this as an ordinary racer… but fine."
He patted the wheel of his car. "Come on, it's your time to shine."
Wuuuummm—!
Bang!
The crimson No. 7 car exploded forward like a bullet!
"The red No. 7 car just rocketed ahead!" the commentator screamed. "It's overtaken No. 8, No. 3—now No. 1!"
"Unbelievable! He's in third—wait, second already?!"
Jack's lips curved into a confident grin. Another talisman appeared between his fingers, this one marked with a rabbit. He pressed it against the inner wall of the car. The magic flared.
Of course, he wouldn't push it to godlike levels—just a little edge beyond human limits. Enough to ignite the crowd.
Wuuuummm—!!!
"My God!"
"He's passed Death Racer Savito's No. 11 car—the leader!"
"What is this angle?!"
"How in the world did he pull that off?!"
"This is madness! He'll kill himself!"
The audience erupted into chaos, voices overlapping in disbelief and awe.
"So this is possible?! He's making everyone else look like children with toy cars!"
"Oh my God, he's insane—no, he's amazing!!!"
"Go, No. 7! Go!!!"
"Who is that racer?! Which club is he from? Someone sign him immediately!"
"It's the Ghost Spider Club!"
"How'd you find out so quickly? Incredible!"
"No, look—he spelled it out with his car's movement on the track!"
"What?!"
...
"Hey! Jack!" "Are you crazy driving like this!?"
Tony Stark's voice roared over the comms, frustration mixing with genuine concern. "Even professional racers wouldn't dare push like this! Slow down, right now!"
"Is this guy terminally ill!?" Stark muttered under his breath. Secretly, Tony felt that even with his palladium poisoning weakening him, he wouldn't dare tempt fate like this. Had Jack suddenly snapped?
Stephen Strange had the same thought and called over the comms. "Hey, hey, hey! Jack, calm down. If you've got some incurable illness, I can introduce you to the best doctors in the world. Even a top-tier psychologist, if that's what you need!"
...
"Car No. 7?" "Wait… isn't that—"
Barbara's hand instinctively gripped the railing, her eyes widening. "It's him!"
Natasha Romanoff, watching her reaction, gave a soft sigh and shook her head. She could see the worry written all over Barbara's face.
...
Strange: "Could it be a brain disorder?" Stark: "I think it might be AIDS!"
"Tony, do you believe I'll turn this car around and send you flying?"
Jack listened to his two reckless friends with a sigh. Their jokes were ridiculous at best, but he had no patience for them. He cut the comm short with a calm remark:
"I'll wait for you at the finish line."
Then, silence. Jack turned his full focus to the track ahead.
...
"Hey! Who's that on the track!?" "Repair personnel—don't step onto the course!"
But Ivan Vanko ignored the shouting marshals and blaring warning sirens. Toothpick dangling from his lips, he walked calmly onto the center of the track. Sparks sizzled across his clothing, revealing the menacing Whiplash harness beneath. Blazing white-and-blue electric whips uncoiled, dragging across the asphalt as they crackled with lethal energy.
...
Inside his car, Jack's instincts flared. His Spider-Sense ignited like a firestorm, showing him a vision: Strange's car being sliced apart by Whiplash's whip.
"..."
"Strange is about to be struck?" Jack muttered under his breath.
He almost reacted, reaching for the Chicken Talisman's power to manipulate objects across the entire track. He could save his friend instantly. But then another thought crossed his mind—
Wait… wasn't Strange supposed to become Sorcerer Supreme after a car accident? Could this be that accident?
His hesitation lasted only a second. And then—
The world twisted. The race track warped like molten glass, stretching and bending in impossible angles. Stands flipped upside down, the cheering audience vanishing into silence. The surreal distortions of the Mirror Dimension overtook reality itself.
"Stop."
Jack's command was simple.
Screeech—
The car obeyed, grinding to a halt.
The door opened.
Whoosh—
A black trench coat fluttered in the broken wind as Jack stepped out. Hands buried in his coat pockets, combat suit hidden beneath, he leaned casually against the car door. His sharp eyes scanned the warped, barren world around him.
The arena had gone silent. The stands were empty. The sky was twisted.
"Ancient One," Jack called calmly.
Whoosh—
A yellow-robed figure descended gently before him.
"Hello, Jack."
The Ancient One's voice was clear and calm. "Stephen Strange is arrogant. He must be tempered through hardship."
Jack twirled a tiger-shaped talisman between his fingers, twin symbols glowing faintly along its spine. "Sorcerer, isn't it a little too familiar to call me that on our first meeting?"
"..."
The Ancient One smiled faintly, knowing the Mirror Dimension couldn't contain Jack Kadere. Instead, she changed the subject. "Thank you."
"Forget about Stephen," Jack replied, pulling his hood up. His tone shifted into sly mischief. "But really, don't we look like we're wearing matching outfits? A couple's trench coats—what do you think?"
The Ancient One's peaceful smile never wavered. "Interesting child. We will meet again."
"Alright then—see you next time… my dear Sorcerer Ancient One."
Jack's talisman began to spin, glowing brighter with each rotation.
The Enhanced Hu Fu Talisman controlled Yin and Yang, its power capable of endless applications. Here, it served to anchor the twisted world back into balance. With each spin, the distorted dimension snapped closer to reality, restoring the broken track bit by bit.
Crack—shatter—
The Mirror Dimension fractured apart, collapsing like shards of glass. Reality surged back in place. The race track reformed, and with a roar—
Vroooom!
Jack's red car shot forward from the breach, flames streaking behind it.
...
"Hi, Pepper."
Meanwhile, Pepper and Happy were preparing to deliver equipment to Stark when a bright red race car screeched to a halt beside them.
Pepper blinked. "Jack? Shouldn't you be… in front?"
From the driver's seat, Jack Kadere leaned out casually and grinned. "You guessed it. I'm two laps ahead already."
…
"Jack! Save me! Ram him, now!"
Tony Stark, chased across the track by Ivan Vanko's electrified whips, shouted in desperation as he caught sight of Jack's car closing in.
"Hey, Tony!" Jack yelled back, one hand on the wheel. With the other, he hurled a familiar silver briefcase toward Stark. "Pepper told me to pass this along. Heads up!"
Whoosh—bang!
"Ow!" Tony winced as the case smacked him squarely, nearly knocking him off his feet. Dizzy, he stumbled. "You're supposed to help, Jack, not concuss me!"
Jack's car didn't slow. Instead, he gunned the engine and drove head-on at Ivan.
Vanko lifted his whip, ready to slice the car in half like the others—but the vehicle surged forward with a burst of speed, giving him no time to react.
Boom!
The red car slammed Ivan into the safety barrier with a thunderous crash. Metal screeched as sparks scattered across the track.
Jack stepped out, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulders. "My apologies. Guess I pressed the accelerator a little too hard." He glanced at Ivan, sprawled groaning against the wall. "Honestly, pal, maybe you should've invested in actual armor instead of cosplay wires…"
Vanko's makeshift suit was hardly more durable than scrap metal—Jack figured even a handgun could've done the job.
"Jack, move!" Tony barked, fumbling with the portable Mark armor that had deployed from the briefcase. "He's not down yet. I'll deal with him."
Jack crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Tony, in your condition? You can barely stand."
Around them, spectators who hadn't fled were now crowded against the fences, watching like it was part of the show. Many quickly realized the same thing Jack had: Ivan's whips were deadly up close, but beyond their reach, he was vulnerable. With some cover fire, even a trained squad could wear him down.
…
"You… have the nerve… to say that," Tony muttered, staggering.
CRACK!
Ivan suddenly sprang up, his whip striking like lightning. In one violent lash, Jack's red car was blown apart into smoking debris.
"Stark!" Vanko roared, swinging his glowing cables with brutal precision.
One whip. Two whips. Three, four, five!
Each strike landed with bone-rattling force. Sparks flew as Iron Man stumbled backward, his portable suit groaning under the assault.
Jack called out sharply, half-mocking, half-concerned: "Tony! Can you even do it like this?"
Tony gritted his teeth, vision swimming. Anger fueled him—he lunged and swung a punch at Ivan's head. The impact wasn't much, but without protective plating, it dazed Vanko enough to stagger.
Taking his chance, Tony extended a new feature from his gauntlet—a glowing wrist blade, buzzing with energy.
"Glowing weapons?" Tony quipped through clenched teeth. "Not just your gimmick, Ivan."
Click—shing!
Within a few precise slashes, Vanko's crude Whiplash exosuit was carved apart, falling in smoking pieces around him. Ivan collapsed, unconscious and stripped of his menace.
But Tony wasn't far behind. His armor hissed, sparks erupting, until finally he too toppled over onto the tarmac.
When the faceplate opened, his bloodied forehead and exhausted eyes were revealed.
Jack crouched beside him, shaking his head with exaggerated sympathy. "Oh man, this villain was too rough on you. Look at you—bleeding all over your billion-dollar toys. Tragic."
Pepper rushed in, kneeling beside Tony. "Tony! Are you hurt badly?"
"Uh…" Tony groaned, weakly lifting a finger to point accusingly at Jack.
Jack gave him a bright thumbs-up. "Don't worry, buddy. I know exactly what you're trying to say. I'll drop in on Strange later too, just to check in."
Tony tilted his head, exhaled in pure frustration, and promptly fainted.
…
Beep-boop—beep-boop—beep-boop!
The wailing of ambulances echoed across the shattered Monaco track. Paramedics quickly secured Stark on a stretcher. Another team wheeled in Stephen Strange, still recovering from his own injuries elsewhere.
As they were rushed off toward the hospital, Jack leaned back against the railing, smirking. Another day, another messy fight he hadn't exactly planned for—but somehow, everything had worked out… more or less.