Stark Industries Headquarters – Los Angeles, California
Pepper Potts stared at Happy, processing his words.
An organization controlling eighty percent of the global underworld?
"Happy, are you absolutely sure about this?" She kept her voice steady, though tension coiled in her stomach. "If they're really as powerful as you say, can they actually help us find Tony?"
Happy's expression hardened, the easygoing humor gone. "Pepper, I'm Tony's bodyguard. Guys in my line of work don't last long unless we understand the criminal landscape. We have to know when someone's put a price on our boss, what threats are out there, and which groups we can actually talk to."
He leaned forward, voice low. "The collapse of the High Table and the dissolution of the Continental Hotels, it's the most significant upheaval the underworld's experienced in decades. The Fraternity dates back over a millennium, operating branches in every major nation. And now, they've integrated the High Table's intelligence network into their own."
"If they're willing to take the job, they can get people into Afghanistan. More than that, they might be able to identify exactly which group attacked Tony's convoy. The military's flying blind out there. The Fraternity has assets on the ground."
Pepper studied his face. "What's the catch?"
"The price," Happy admitted, hesitating. "It's not going to be cheap. And arranging a meeting with them… that's another story. I'm just a bodyguard, Pepper. I don't have that kind of influence. But you represent Stark Industries. That changes things."
Translation: I'm out of my depth, but you're not.
Pepper absorbed that. "I'll look into it. Thank you, Happy."
He nodded and departed, leaving her alone with a decision she'd never imagined having to make.
She didn't move right away. Instead, she sat behind Tony's desk, turning the idea over in her mind. Hiring assassins to find her missing boss, it felt wrong. But if they could succeed where the military and the CIA had both failed…
Tony Stark's Mansion – One Hour Later
The biometric scanners recognized Pepper instantly. The mansion's lights activated as she entered, following her movement through the house.
"JARVIS," she said to the air, "I need you to compile everything available on: the High Table, the Continental Hotel network, and the Fraternity that replaced them."
"Of course, Ms. Potts." The AI's cultured voice filled the room. "Compiling now. Please wait a moment."
Pepper moved to Tony's workshop computer while JARVIS worked. Less than three minutes later, his voice returned.
"Information has been compiled and transferred to your workstation. I should note that while data on the High Table and Continental Hotel is extensive, information on the Fraternity is considerably more limited. I encountered several encrypted databases that appear to contain relevant material, but your current access level prohibits forced entry."
"That's fine. Show me what you have."
The screen filled with folders, dozens of them, organized by date and relevance. Pepper opened the first and began reading.
Two hours later, she leaned back in the chair, rubbing her eyes.
Happy hadn't overstated the situation; if anything, he'd left out details. The High Table's influence had extended worldwide, maintained not by domination but by diplomacy. They had been the underworld's middlemen, the brokers through whom money, arms, intelligence, and enforcement quietly circulated.
And the Fraternity had dismantled them in less than a month.
The reports were fragmentary but consistent. Coordinated strikes against High Table leadership. Minimal collateral damage. Surgical precision. The kind of operation that required extraordinary resources, intelligence, and capability.
If they can do that, finding one missing person should be child's play.
The decision crystallized. She'd go to New York, request an audience, and make her case. Whatever the cost.
Three Days Later – New York
The building that once housed the Continental Hotel had changed. The exterior remained the same, classic New York architecture, unassuming to passersby. But the atmosphere had shifted. Where there'd once been an air of refined neutrality, now there was something harder. More focused.
Pepper approached the entrance with Happy at her side. Security personnel tracked their movement, not obviously, but she'd spent enough time around Tony's paranoia to recognize surveillance.
A man emerged from inside as they reached the door. Tall, dark hair, moving with the controlled grace of someone extremely dangerous. His eyes assessed them both in less than a second.
"John Wick," Happy murmured. "I recognize him from the files."
Pepper stepped forward, producing a business card from her jacket. "Mr. Wick, my name is Pepper Potts. I'm the assistant to the chairman of Stark Industries. I'd like to request a meeting with Mr. Smith Doyle, the leader of the Fraternity."
John Wick accepted the card, studied it briefly. His expression shifted slightly, not quite surprise, but heightened attention. Even assassins knew Stark Industries.
"What's the purpose of your visit?" His voice was measured, professional.
"I have an issue of great importance to discuss with Mr. Doyle, one that may prove mutually advantageous." Pepper spoke with practiced confidence. "As the chairman's secretary at Stark Industries, I believe that entitles me to an audience."
John Wick considered that. After a moment, he said, "I'll contact my superior. No guarantees he'll agree to meet."
"I appreciate your consideration, Mr. Wick."
John Wick pulled out his phone and stepped away, speaking quietly. Pepper couldn't hear the conversation, but it lasted less than thirty seconds.
He returned. "Mr. Doyle will see you. Follow me."
Fraternity Headquarters – Training Facility
Smith Doyle lowered the weighted bar back onto its rack, sweat dripping down his face. The weighted suit he wore added nearly three hundred pounds to his frame, the best Earth technology could provide for resistance training, but still inadequate for a Saiyan's needs.
Bulma says the materials for the gravity chamber won't arrive for another week. Some components aren't even manufactured on Earth yet, she's having to improvise with inferior substitutes.
His phone rang. Smith grabbed a towel, wiped his hands, and checked the caller ID.
John Wick.
"John, what's happening?"
"Chief, I have a visitor requesting an audience. Pepper Potts, she's the personal assistant to Tony Stark, chairman of Stark Industries. Says she has important business to discuss."
Smith froze. Pepper Potts. Stark Industries.
His mind raced through the timeline. Tony Stark kidnapped in Afghanistan. Held by the Ten Rings terrorist organization. Building the Mark I armor in a cave somewhere. Either already escaped or still imprisoned, depending on exactly where in the timeline they were.
Pepper's here because she needs help finding him. The military's search has failed, and she's desperate enough to approach an assassin organization.
This was an opportunity. Tony Stark, future Iron Man, founding Avenger, arguably the most influential figure in the coming decade of metahumans emergence. Getting involved in his origin story could provide significant advantages.
"Bring Ms. Potts to headquarters," Smith said. "I'll meet with her."
He ended the call and immediately moved to the nearest computer terminal. A quick search brought up recent news about Tony Stark.
"Stark Industries CEO Missing After Attack in Afghanistan"
"Military Declares Tony Stark Likely Deceased"
"Stark Industries Stock Plummets Amid Leadership Crisis"
The articles were dated nearly three months ago. Obadiah Stane had assumed interim control of the company. Pepper was clearly operating without official authority, using her position to pursue leads the board wouldn't approve.
Three months missing. In the movie, Tony was imprisoned for about that long before escaping. Which means I'm either about to help find him, or he's already building his way out.
Smith shut down the terminal and headed for the showers. He needed to be presentable for this meeting. Pepper Potts wasn't just Tony's assistant, she was his moral compass, the one person Tony trusted completely. Making the right impression mattered.
Thirty Minutes Later – Reception Room
The door opened. John Wick entered first, followed by a woman with strawberry-blonde hair and a professional demeanor, and a larger man who had "bodyguard" written all over him.
"Chief, this is Ms. Pepper Potts, assistant to the chairman of Stark Industries." John gestured to the woman. "And this is Happy Hogan, Mr. Stark's personal bodyguard."
He turned to the visitors. "This is Smith Doyle, leader of the Fraternity."
Smith studied them both, then spoke quietly. "You're here about Tony Stark."
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