Happy had been promoted. The title was Security Director of Stark Industries, which sounded significant and was, in practice, a role that required him to walk the floors reminding employees to wear their badges.
He did this with conviction.
Tony no longer needed a personal bodyguard in any traditional sense — the suit could be on him in seconds from anywhere in the building, and the class of threat that could actually hurt Tony Stark was not a class that a bodyguard could meaningfully address. This had freed Happy up for broader responsibilities, which he interpreted primarily as enforcement of the building's identification policy.
"Badge," he said, as he passed a junior engineer in the corridor.
The engineer looked down, found his lanyard twisted backward, and corrected it.
Happy nodded and kept walking.
He caught Pepper in the main lobby as she came through the entrance, tablet already open, moving at the pace of someone who had three things to resolve before her nine o'clock.
"Ms. Potts." He fell into step beside her. "Tony's got a full equipment bay in the basement. Armor components, prototype units, various hardware. They're all wearing party hats."
Pepper signed a document without breaking stride. "Party hats?."
"DUM-E put them on. I think he's been left unsupervised again." He cleared his throat. "My point is, those units could be doing building security work. Reliable, no complaints, no badge issues."
"You're suggesting I replace the cleaning staff with Iron Man prototypes."
"I'm saying people are the weakest security link. Robots don't prop open fire doors."
"Happy." Pepper tucked the signed document under her arm. "I'm genuinely glad you're running building security. It suits you."
Happy straightened slightly. "Thank you. I appreciate that."
"The employee complaint rate has tripled since you took the role."
A brief pause. "Thank you. That means people are paying attention."
Pepper looked at him. "That's not a compliment."
"I understand," Happy said, with the expression of a man who did not understand but had decided to take it as one anyway.
Pepper's assistant appeared at her elbow. "Ms. Potts, your four o'clock is already here."
Pepper glanced at the reception room door, then back at Happy. "I'll deal with the robot security proposal later. This one requires some diplomacy."
"Who is it?"
"Someone I used to work with." She kept her voice neutral. "He had a habit of asking me out. It's been a while."
She pushed open the door.
The man sitting in the reception room was not who she remembered. Killian had been sharp-minded even back then, but everything else about him had been wrong — the unsteady gait, the cane, the general impression of a person whose body was failing to cooperate with his ambitions. The man who stood to greet her was none of those things. He was healthy, composed, and looked at her with the easy confidence of someone who had stopped needing to apologize for how he appeared.
"Pepper." He smiled. "You look great."
"Aldrich." She recovered quickly. "You look — I'm sorry, you look completely different. What have you been doing?"
"Keeping busy. Physical rehabilitation, mostly, for the past five years." He gestured for her to sit, as though it were his office. "Call me Killian."
Happy, still stationed outside, pressed his face slightly closer to the door's narrow window and observed Killian's assistant, who had arrived without a badge, was sitting on the reception sofa with her legs crossed, and appeared entirely unconcerned about both of these facts.
Happy's phone buzzed. Tony.
"Hey," Happy said, keeping his voice low. "Your guy Killian just walked in to meet Pepper. Just so you know."
"Which Killian?"
"Aldrich Killian. AIM, the think tank guy. I don't like how he looked at her."
"Happy—"
"Pepper is your most valuable asset. I'm saying that as Head of Security. If you don't stay attentive, someone else will."
"I trust your instincts. Keep an eye on him." A pause. "I've got another call coming in, I have to go."
The line went dead.
Happy looked at his phone, then back through the window.
"I miss the old Tony," he said to no one in particular. "The one who didn't have superhero friends."
He stayed where he was and kept watching.
Inside the reception room, Killian had moved past pleasantries and into the pitch. He walked Pepper through the technology — neural pathway mapping, bioelectric optimization, recombinant DNA applications for cellular regeneration. The science was genuine and the presentation was polished.
Pepper listened to all of it before responding.
"The problem," she said, "is that everything you've described has a straightforward weaponization path. Optimized bioelectricity, enhanced cellular resilience, accelerated healing — you're describing the toolkit for manufacturing enhanced soldiers. Tony has thought carefully about where Stark Industries doesn't go, and this sits exactly on that line."
Killian's expression shifted slightly. "Tony. Always Tony."
"He's the reason I have the authority I have. That's not irrelevant."
"I approached Tony thirteen years ago. He declined." Killian leaned back. "But I notice the landscape has changed. There are people at this company now who aren't defined by what Tony built them to be. People with independent judgment."
Pepper met his eyes steadily. "My judgment is telling me no, Killian. I'd genuinely like to help you. But not with this."
The meeting ended with handshakes and the particular politeness of a final answer delivered kindly.
Tony's second call of the morning was Xu Xialing.
"Mr. Stark, I'm here at Los Angeles. Brought my team. I thought we should meet before we start moving on the Mandarin situation."
Tony was already pulling up his home address to send. "Come to the house. I'll clear the morning."
"I'll be there within the hour."
After the call ended, Tony set the phone down and allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.
The real Ten Rings, with six months of organizational restructuring behind them and a personal insult to settle, were now here at Los Angeles specifically to hunt down whoever had been impersonating them. Xu Xialing had resources, reach, and a motivation that didn't require Tony to explain or justify. All he had to do was provide whatever technical intelligence he'd assembled and let her run.
"Xu Xialing," he said to the empty lab, "please don't make me regret this."
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