Having finalized the intricate mechanics and flight controls of the Mark II armor, Tony Stark was too exhilarated to wait for the charity gala. He needed to test the limits of his creation. Zipping through the night sky above Malibu, the silver chrome gleamed under the moonlight. The armor, built from pure genius, felt like an extension of his own body—until it didn't.
At high altitude and supersonic speed, moisture froze onto the armor, causing critical system failures and a rapid, uncontrolled descent. He plummeted toward Earth, saved only by J.A.R.V.I.S.'s frantic countermeasures and a dramatic crash landing back in his workshop.
"Note to self, Jarvis," Tony groaned, extracting himself from the dented prototype. "Future models need a de-icing system and perhaps less reliance on gravity for propulsion."
Having narrowly avoided death, and now realizing the time, Tony grudgingly decided to make an appearance at the gala. As the chairman, his prolonged absence was becoming a liability. He quickly showered, slipped into a sharp tuxedo, and arrived at the venue, navigating the throng of sycophants until he spotted the familiar auburn hair on the secluded balcony.
He found Su Yi and Pepper Potts locked in an embrace, their kiss deep and undeniably passionate. The sight of his indispensable assistant—the one constant in his chaotic life—in the arms of the man who had just stolen 14% of his company and predicted corporate sabotage, made him explode in frustrated disbelief.
"Oh, gaaah! Su!" Tony's shout was high-pitched and wounded. "Are you actively trying to poach my Chief Executive Officer and my personal life coach?!"
Pepper recoiled, mortified, her cheeks scarlet. "I... I need a moment. Tony, I'll be inside. Excuse me," she stammered, fleeing the scene with a desperate rush to the bar.
Su Yi remained perfectly calm, turning to face Tony with an irritatingly confident smile. "Tony, Pepper is a free agent. She's your assistant, not your property. She has the right to date whoever she pleases, regardless of whether you're too blind to see what's right in front of you."
Tony ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. "Right. Date. But you? You're the guy who looks like he's running a hostile takeover on my entire existence. I'm just saying, your dynamic is confusingly transactional, even for me."
"It's called synergy, Tony. And I believe Pepper and I have excellent chemistry," Su Yi retorted. "We're a great match. But I'm not here to debate my love life with you. I'm waiting for Pepper. You, however, look like you're about to have a very bad night. You look tense, Tony."
Tony dismissed the thought of Su Yi and Pepper with a wave of his hand. "Whatever. Look, I'm done with the whole thing. I'm just going to charm a few investors and head back to the lab."
He spun on his heel and strode back into the main ballroom, only to be intercepted near the bar by a tenacious journalist he vaguely recognized.
"Tony Stark, it's amazing you actually showed up," she said, cutting him off sharply.
Tony attempted a flirtatious dismissal. "Cathy, right? From the Times?"
"Christine," she corrected coolly. "Christine Everhart. And no, I'm not here for a quick fling. I'm here for answers."
She thrust a set of high-resolution photographs into his hand. Tony's playful demeanor evaporated as he looked at the images. They showed a desolate, war-torn town—Komira, the same region where he'd been held captive—and the bandits were heavily armed, utilizing unmistakable Stark Industries weaponry.
"These photos were taken yesterday," Christine stated, her voice accusatory. "Your weapons are back in the hands of the Ten Rings. They are using them to commit atrocities. This is happening now."
Tony felt a cold, visceral shock. His mind instantly flashed back to Ethan, the doctor who had saved his life and whose family had been butchered by those very weapons.
"I ordered the closure of the Armaments Division. I terminated all trade with those regions," Tony snapped, his voice dangerously low. "I did not authorize this shipment."
"The paperwork says otherwise," Christine countered, producing a folder. "Someone in your company signed off on a massive, unauthorized transfer. You may not be your company, Tony, but someone is running an operation behind your back. Someone is profiting from the misery you swore to stop."
The reality hit him with the force of an avalanche. Su Yi's warning about Obadiah Stane being the internal threat—the one who "must be the snake in the grass"—slammed into his consciousness. The youthful shareholder, the supposed fortune teller, had been right all along.
Furious, Tony pushed past Christine and stalked across the ballroom. He found Obadiah holding court, basking in the glow of corporate goodwill.
Tony didn't waste time. He shoved the photos into Obadiah's chest. "Do you recognize these? Komira. Weapons I swore were off the market. Tell me what is happening."
Obadiah glanced at the images, his expression shifting only slightly—a momentary flicker of cold calculation. He then subtly positioned himself so their conversation was shielded from nearby reporters.
"Tony, my boy, don't be so ridiculously naïve," Obadiah whispered, though his tone was heavy with false concern.
"Did you really think closing the department would immediately stop the movement of assets that have been in the pipeline for months? These are legacy contracts. This is how the world operates. We do business, not politics."
Tony was shaking with impotent rage and the sting of profound betrayal. "Legacy contracts? They're using my rockets to slaughter innocent people! We were playing both sides, weren't we? You were profiting from the terrorists who held me captive!"
Obadiah quickly grabbed Tony's shoulder, pulling him into a tight, fake embrace for the benefit of a passing photographer. "Listen to me, Tony. I issued the injunction against you. Only by doing that could I control the narrative and protect you. If you expose this now, you expose the entire company—and yourself. You let me handle this. Trust me."
He pulled away, his smile returning for the cameras, and then he simply walked away, leaving Tony stranded, feeling abandoned and utterly foolish. Obadiah's implication was clear: I'm the only one clean enough to fix your mess, so stand down.
Tony didn't stay to debate or confront him further. He had his answer. The betrayal was real, and it was devastatingly personal. He left the gala immediately, the expensive suit feeling like a burning shroud of hypocrisy.
Meanwhile, Su Yi found Pepper and noticed her distress. He knew the tension with Tony, combined with his own sudden kiss, had overwhelmed her.
"Tony seems to have vanished," Pepper noted anxiously.
"He had a very rough conversation with a journalist and then a more intense one with Obadiah," Su Yi said calmly. "It seems reality is finally catching up to him. He likely went straight back to his lab." He checked his watch. "Pepper, it's late. Let me take you home."
The drive was quiet, filled with the comfortable tension of two people who had just shared a momentous, interruptible secret.
Arriving at Pepper's apartment, Su Yi walked her to the door. Pepper paused, fumbling for her keys, her mind wrestling with itself. She was exhausted, emotionally exposed, and deeply attracted to the mature confidence of the younger man beside her. Should she invite him in? Should she retreat and pretend the kiss never happened?
Su Yi made the choice for her. He gently pulled her into a warm, lingering hug. "Goodnight, Pepper."
The simple, unhurried embrace was almost more intimate than the kiss. Pepper melted into his arms, their faces inches apart, her gaze searching his. The moment coiled tighter, the air thick with unspoken desire. She knew if she remained there a second longer, she would pull him across the threshold and into her life completely.
With a sudden burst of self-control driven by years of ingrained caution, Pepper broke the contact.
"Su, stop," she breathed, pushing back slightly, her hands resting against his chest. "I... I'm not ready for this. Not tonight. The age, the history... I need time to think."
Su Yi, the strategic pursuer, didn't press. He smiled, radiating patience and absolute certainty. "That's perfectly fine, Pepper. Take all the time you need. But know this: whenever you are ready, I'll be here. This isn't a game for me. It's real."
"Thank you, Su," she whispered, her relief mixed with a potent regret. "Good night."
Su Yi watched her door close before teleporting back to his own villa. He sighed, sinking into his sofa.
Another near-miss, he thought wryly. Mary Jane was interrupted by a question of mortality. Pepper was stopped by Tony and her own moral code. I swear, the universe is conspiring to keep me celibate. He took a cold shower, trying to cool the residual frustration, and finally succumbed to sleep.
While Su Yi slept, Tony Stark was awake and incandescent with rage in his workshop. The photos of Komira were projected onto a massive screen, alongside the haunting image of Ethan.
"Obadiah thinks he can outsmart me? He thinks he can turn my guilt into a shield for his corruption?" Tony snarled, pacing the floor. "He thinks his little injunction can stop me from being Tony Stark?"
He moved to the Mark III armor, already primed and ready for its final build-out. He had incorporated the de-icing solution and upgraded the aesthetic—the red and gold chassis now stood waiting.
"Jarvis," Tony commanded, his voice vibrating with a righteous, focused fury. "Music. Something loud and decisive. And engage the final assembly sequence. It's time to test this baby on the battlefield, not the stratosphere."
The heavy strains of AC/DC's "Back in Black" roared through the workshop. Mechanical arms swiveled, attaching the final plates and components to Tony's body as he stood on the assembly platform. The metal clasped into place, piece by piece, locking him into a suit of weaponized justice.
Finally, the helmet closed with a hiss.
"Jarvis," Tony's voice came out filtered and metallic.
"Yes, Sir?"
"It's time to deliver the final product."
With a controlled burst of energy from his repulsor boots and gloves, the Iron Man suit—the Mark III—blasted through the ceiling of the workshop, leaving a massive hole in its wake, and soared into the pre-dawn sky, heading east toward the violence and betrayal of Komira.