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  The streets of Monaco were alive with the sound of engines r, a sharp trast to the glittering calm of the Mediterranean beyond the barriers. The Monaco Histrand Prix drew the world’s elite, from oil tys to fashion magnates, eagling for the best view of the racetrack. Cameras fshed, champagne flutes ked, and the hum of eager spectators filled the air.

  For Tony Stark, the event was less about the rad more about keeping his mind occupied. Tony Stark, ever the ter of attention, had been wantonly partying tely. His onstoppable rise iech world had e to a screeg halt, not due to a petitor, but due to a toxic, silent enemy—his own body. For the st six months, Tony had been struggling with his paldium poisoning, the very element that kept him alive through the chest arc reactor. The very element that was slowly killing him.

  The problem had forced Tony into a er he’d never been in before—he had to relinquish trol of his empire. A decision that had been hard to make but necessary. Stark Industries was too big, too plicated, and the medieeds to sustain his life weren’t something he could manage on his own anymore.

  The press release had e quietly, one evening, with minimal fanfare, almost too calm for someone as high profile as Tony Stark. He’d announced his resignation from the CEO position of Stark Industries, effective immediately. In his pce, Pepper Potts had taken the reins, officially being CEO after years of loyalty and navigating Tony’s erratic lifestyle. The board had no pints. Pepper was capable and had always been a steady hand, something Stark needed more than ever.

  Of course, the handoff wasn’t immediate. Pepper had worked with Tony in tandem for weeks, learning all the internal ws of the pany while he focused on his health. She’d made clear, though, that she wasn’t going to deal with the military’s and gover’s staering about Stark’s teology. She had enough to hah the pany’s growth and the iional business deals.

  Enter Natasha Romanoff, Tony’s assistant, though her true identity was a well-kept secret. She’d e highly reended by a very trusted source. Despite being shrouded in secreatasha was capable of managing the media’s expectations and the gover’s scrutiny with ease. Her job wasn’t just to look pretty or keep the office anized—she was tasked with keeping an eye ohing happening outside the walls of Stark Industries, the things Tony didn’t have time for. She erfect blend of security and subtlety, handling the crowd and the chaos with grace while w behind the ses.

  “Mr. Stark,” Natasha called, tapping lightly on the doorframe of Tony’s private office. She had a pile of papers in hand, but she made sure not to intrude.

  Tony looked up from the desk, rubbing his eyes. “I’m getting old. How do you do it, Natalie? You’ve been here what, two days? And already you’re on top of everything.”

  She stepped inside ahe papers down, giving him a quice-over. “I’ve had my share of experience dealing with messes. That’s why yht me ht?”

  Tony couldn’t help but smirk. He was in the midst of another round of tests on his chest arc reactor, trying to buy himself time. His symptoms were worsening, and though his suit helped, he k wouldn’t be long before the paldium took its toll.

  “You sure you’re not overworked already? You don’t o take care of everyone, you know. That’s epper’s for.”

  Natasha smirked back. “Pepper’s handling the pany. I’m handling... other things.” She haony a folder. “It’s the test from the gover. They want to talk about neons systems. Apparently, your ‘toys’ have them really excited.”

  Tony took the folder and gnced over it briefly. He wasn’t particurly excited to face the gover about eology—he had enough to deal with on the medical front. But he k wouldn’t go away unless he addressed it. They always had demands, expectations, and their fingers in his tech.

  “I’m really not in the mood for this,” he muttered, tossing the folder onto the table and leaning ba his chair. “Every time I think I’m doh this, they find a way t me ba.”

  Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that part of the fun? You created half of this mess, you might as well it up.”

  Tony chuckled. “Yeah, I know. I just didn’t think it’d get this plicated."

  Tony leaned ba a plush seat overlooking the track, sungsses refleg the shimmering horizon. Nearby, Pepper Potts managed a versation with a persistent member of the Monainistry, effortlessly polite despite the man’s incessant questions about Stark Industries' operations in Europe. She had stepped into her role as CEO with the precision of someone born for the task, her schedule tighter than Tony’s ow somehow she made it look easy.

  Tony sipped his drink, his gaze drifting zily. “Hey, Pep,” he called without looking at her. “Is this guy b you to death yet, or am I projeg?”

  Pepper shot him a warning look over her shoulder. “Tony.”

  The ministry official chuckled nervously, clearly unsure if Tony was joking. Pepper dismissed him with a promise to tihe versatiohen turo Tony. “Do you ever stop?”

  “Not really,” Tony said, standing and adjusting his jacket. “But you khat when you took the job.”

  Pepper sighed, gesturing to the sprawling crowd. “You hired a new assistant, so maybe start ag like it? Let her filter some of this.”

  Tony smirked. “Oh, Miss Rushman? She’s too new. Besides, she’s good at, you know... assisting.” He waved vaguely toward Natasha Romanoff, who was standing a few feet away, blending into the crowd with unnerving ease. In her guise as “Natalie Rushman,” she oise and professionalism, but Tony suspected there was more to her than her spotless résumé.

  Pepper shook her head and walked off, muttering about impossible billioony grinned after her, then turo Natasha. “Miss Rushman, any emergencies I should know about?”

  Natasha raised an eyebrow. “No emergencies. Just a lot of people hoping to get five minutes with you.”

  “That’s the dream,” Tony replied. He tipped his sungsses down to meet her gaze. “By the way, if you’re plotting corporate espionage or world domination, you might want to take his is where the big boys py.”

  Natasha’s expression didn’t waver. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Tony adjusted the cuffs of his rag suit as he walked toward the paddock, the crowds parting around him like a wave. He wasn’t a professional racer by any stretch, but that had opped him before. When you had billions of dolrs and ao match, rules were suggestions at best.

  Pepper trailed behind, clipboard in hand, her heels clig against the pavement. “You know you don’t actually have to do this,” she said, her tone more exasperated than usual. “There are drivers who’ve spent their lives training for this exact race.”

  Tony turned, walking backward with a smirk. “Pep, you should know by now—‘have to’ isn’t in my vocabury.”

  “It should be, sidering the board’s already annoyed about your st publicity stunt,” she shot back, sidestepping a cameraman who was trying to get a closer shot of Tony.

  “That’s why you’re CEO,” Tony said, waving a hand dismissively. “You do the b stuff. I do the fun stuff.”

  Pepper pihe bridge of her didn’t argue further. Arguing with Tony Stark when he was in one of his moods was about as effective as telling a hurrie to calm down. Behind her, Natalie followed quietly, her gaze sing the crowd as if assessing potential threats. She kept her movements subtle, her polished demeanor unbroken.

  As they approached the paddock, Happy Hogan intercepted them, his expression caught between frustration and resignation. “Boss, you’ve got less than an hour before the race. Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, fog?”

  Tony cpped a hand on Happy’s shoulder. “That’s what I’ve got you for, Happy. You focus, I shine.”

  Happy grumbled something about millionaires and bad decisions but didn’t push further. Instead, he haony a helmet aured toward the car. The vehicle gleamed uhe sunlight, its Stark Industries logo promily dispyed. Tony ran a hand along the chassis, nodding appreciatively.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?” Tony said, his tone almost reverent.

  Pepper crossed her arms. “Try not to wreck it.”

  “No promises,” Tony replied, slipping into the driver’s seat. He adjusted his gloves and checked the trols, his grin widening. “Alright, kids, make sure to catch my good side when I win.”

  “Winning implies survival,” Pepper muttered, stepping back as the engine roared to life.

  The race began with a deafening cacophony of engines and cheers. Tony’s car shot forward, weaving through the narrow streets of Monaco with reckless precision. He grinned behind the helmet, adrenaline drowning out the ache in his chest. For those few moments, nothing else mattered—not the paldium poisoning, not the pressure from the gover, not even the shadow of his own mortality.

  In the crowded stands, Justin Hammer sat with a drink in hand, his smug expression barely cealed as he sed the crowd. Hammer Industries had been struggling to keep up with Stark Industries, but that hadn’t stopped Justin from relishing every misstep Tony made. The sdal surrounding Tony’s refusal to hand over his teology to the military had been a goldmine for Hammer’s PR team. Still, it wasn’t enough. He ark out of the picture entirely.

  The crowd erupted into cheers as Tony’s car surged ahead, narrowly overtaking another racer. Hammer watched, his smile turning sour. “Show-off,” he muttered under his breath.

  As the raeared its midpoint, Tony’s lead solidified, his car cutting through the tight ers with ease. The crowd’s cheers grew louder, but amidst the excitement, something shifted.

  On the sidelines, Pepper’s phone buzzed. She g the s, her brow furrowing as she read the message. Natalie leaned closer, her voice low. “Something wrong?”

  “Security picked up a disturbanear the track,” Pepper said, her tone clipped. “It might be nothing, but—”

  Before she could finish, the roar of the race was interrupted by a deafening crash. Sparks flew as one of the cars spun out, skidding dangerously close to the barriers. The croed, but Tony’s car avoided the chaos, swerving smoothly around the wreckage.

  Orack, a figure stepped into view, his presence impossible to ignore. Ivan Vanko, a crude exosuit, brandished two crag energy whips. The arc reactor in his chest pulsed with power as he walked calmly toward the oning cars, the whips carving deep grooves into the asphalt.

  Tony’s grip tightened on the wheel as he spotted the figure ahead. “Oh, e on,” he muttered. He smmed the brakes, the car skidding to a halt just meters away from Vanko. The crowd erupted into chaos, security scrambling to taiuation.

  Vanko raised one whip, its energy crag ominously. “Stark!” he bellowed, his at thick. “Time to pay for your family’s sins!”

  Tony smmed the car door as he stepped out, his hands ched into fists. The roar of the crowd was a distant murmur pared to the high-pitched crackle of Ivan Vanko’s energy whips. He squihrough the gre of the sun, his sungsses slipping down his nose slightly. “Who the hell are you?” he growled.

  Vanko grinned, his teeth bared. “You don’t know me? How disappointing. Stark name destroys families. Now, it’s your turn.”

  Tony took a slow step forward, his gaze flig between the whips and the arc reactlowing in Vanko’s chest. “Right, so we’re doing the ‘vengeful lunatic’ bit. Let me guess—daddy issues?”

  Vanko’s grin faltered, repced by a fsh of anger. He raised one of the whips, the glowing tendril slig through the air and carving a deep gouge into the asphalt. Sparks flew as the crowd screamed, retreating further into the stands.

  “Enough talk,” Vanko snarled. “Time to pay!”

  Tony sidestepped the whip’s sed swing, his boots skidding slightly on the racetrack. The energy burned hot enough to sihe air, and he could feel the heat even from a few feet away. He reached into his pocket, fumbling for the emergency device he always carried, but before he could press the button, Happy Hogan came barreling into view.

  “Boss!” Happy shouted, huffing as he sprinted across the track, a rge red suitcase in his hands. “Suit! Now!”

  Tony twisted away from arike, cursing under his breath. “What took you so long? Stopping for a croissant?”

  Happy skidded to a halt, dropping the suitcase at Tony’s feet. “Try carrying this thing through a crowd of screaming rich people. It’s ly light.”

  “Great cardio for you,” Tony snapped, kneeling quickly to open the case. The suitcase unfolded with a sharp meical whirr, panels extending outward as pieces of the Iron Man suit clicked into pce. The chest pieapped shut with a satisfying thud as the helmet eony’s head. He flexed his fingers, testing the fit as the HUD flickered to life.

  “Alright, Daddy’s boy,” Tony’s voice carried through the suit’s speakers, meical and sharp. He stepped forward, the Iron Man armor’s servos whirring softly. His eyes locked onto the crude but undeniably funal arc reactlowing in Vanko’s chest.

  His smirk faltered as he looked closer. This wasn’t just some shoddy knockoff, not the cobbled-together junk he’d expected. The wiring, the output—everything about it screamed sophistication. Stark’s jaw tightened uhe helmet, his mind rag. Whoever this lunatic was, he wasn’t just pying with scraps.

  Tony rolled his neck, the suit’s meisms flexing with him. “You’ve been shopping in my aisle. Where’d you get that? Not the er hardware store, I’ll bet.”

  Vanko swung a whip zily, the energy crag ominously as it carved into the asphalt. He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes narrowing as he stalked closer.

  Tony raised a hand, the repulslow illuminating his palm. “Not much of a talker, huh? Fine. I’ll fill in the bnks. Daddy issues, a little engineering know-how, and a vea that makes zero sense.” He aimed, the targeting system log on Vanko’s chest. “But that reactor… that’s the twist.”

  Vanko shed out with the whip, the tendril slig toward Tony with blinding speed. Tony fired the repulsor bst, defleg the strike mid-air. Sparks showered the racetrack, and the crowd screamed, retreating further into the stands.

  Tony slid back a few feet, the impact of the whip’s energy rattling through his suit. “Okay, not just a reactor,” he muttered, recalibrating. “You’ve got some toys, I’ll give you that.”

  Vanko didn’t let up. The sed whip cracked forward, faster this time. Tony dodged to the side, the whip grazing his left arm. His HUD lit up with warning indicators as the suit’s iy dipped slightly.

  “Gonna need you to calm down,” Tony quipped, raising his palm again. Another repulsor shot bsted toward Vanko, f him to sidestep. The energy sizzled against the racetrack, leaving a smoking scar in the asphalt.

  Vanko finally spoke, his thick at cutting through the chaos. “Your father… he took everything from mine. Now, I take from you.”

  Tony tilted his head slightly. “Ah, there it is. The vilin in story.” He ducked under another whip strike, firing off another bst as he circled Vanko. “Let me guess—your dad and my dad had some bad blood. What was it, a boardroom brawl? Pame gone wrong? Or maybe Howard just didn’t invite him to the Stark family barbecue?”

  Vanko didn’t respond, his whips crag as he lunged fain. This time, both whips stru tandem, f Tony to leap into the air. The Iron Man suit’s thrusters fred, carrying him above the fray.

  As he hovered, Tony sed the arc reactain, his HUD disseg its pos. The readings were clear now—this wasn’t just a stolen design. It ted, refined in ways that shouldn’t have been possible without Stark’s resources.

  He muttered to himself, “Who the hell is this guy?”

  Vanko spun the whips in a wide arc, their energy coiling like serpents ready to strike. “You think you are untouchable,” he snarled, his voice cold. “But your family’s sins reach far.”

  Tony nded a few yards away, his boots hitting the ground with a thud. He raised both hands, the repulsors humming with charged energy. “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “I’m very touchable. But if yonna e after me, at least do your homework. Howard’s dead. The only thi of him is… well, me.”

  Vanko’s face twisted in anger, and he charged. The whips shed out wildly, their energy carving deep scars into the pavement. Tony backpedaled, his suit’s systems w overtime to keep pace.

  “Happy,” Tony called over the s. “Tell me you’re keeping the evacuation smooth. I’d hate to ruin Monaco’s tourism season.”

  Happy’s voice crackled through the line. “Boss, I’ve got people trampling each other out here. You think you could maybe this up?”

  Tony sidestepped another whip strike, the asphalt crag beh the impact. “I’ll put it on my to-do list.”

  He turned back to Vanko, firing another repulsor shot. This o its mark, smming into Vanko’s chest. The energy sent him skidding back, but the arc reactor in his suit absorbed most of the impact. Vankhtened, grinning through the sparks.

  Tony’s HUD fred with new alerts. The reactor was more advahan he’d assumed, its energy output climbing rapidly.

  “Okay,” Tony muttered, recalibrating again. “Guess we’re doing this the hard way.”

  He surged forward, the suit’s thrusters propelling him into cle. Vanko swung, but Tony caught the whip with his gauhe energy crag against the armor. The force sent another ripple of damage through his suit, but Tony twisted sharply, yanking the whip free from Vanko’s grip.

  “ry,” Tony said, tossing the severed whip aside. “But I’ve got a thing fh-voltage retionships.”

  Vanko didn’t falter. He brought the remaining whip down in a vicious strike, f Tony to block with both arms. The energy coiled around his forearms, log him in pce.

  “Stark name dies today,” Vanko growled, stepping closer.

  Tony gritted his teeth, the suit’s systems screaming uhe strain. “If I had a dolr for every time someone said that…” He twisted his wrists, redireg the whip’s energy back toward Vanko. The surge caught him off guard, f him to release the whip as the energy backfired.

  Tony staggered back, his gaus sparking from the residual energy of the whip. His HUD blinked furiously:

  POWER LEVELS CRITICAL—ARC REACTOR OVERLOAD IMMI.

  Jarvis’s voice came through sharply, “Sir, critical levels are esg. tinuing this e may promise the arc reactor entirely.”

  Tony’s breathing was heavy, his chest ag as he g Vanko, who was already advang again, his remaining whip crag ominously. “Yeah, Jarvis, I got the memo,” he muttered. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

  Vanko spun the whip over his head, the energy arg like a storm as he swung it down toward Tony. Tony rolled to the side, the whip missing him by inches and carving a glowing gash into the racetrack. The crowd screamed again, a mix of fear and morbid excitement rippling through the stands.

  Tony pushed himself up, grimag. “Okay, big guy, st round,” he called out, raising his arms. “Wiakes all.”

  Vanko sneered, his at thick as he replied. “There is no winning for you, Stark. Only death.”

  Tony fired a repulsor bst mid-sentence, cutting off Vanko’s monologue. The shot struck the arc reabedded in Vanko’s crude exosuit, sending sparks flying and f him to stagger. The whip shed out reflexively, striking a nearby barrier and exploding into a spray of sparks.

  “Looks like your power’s flickering,” Tony tauaking a cautious step forward. His suit was sluggish, the reactor’s dim glow a stark trast to Vanko’s still-burning core. “Should’ve paid for the extended warranty.”

  Vanko growled, his movements more erratic as he tried tain his footing. “I am strohan you. Your suit is failing. Your name... nothing!”

  Tony smirked under his helmet, the ers of his mouth curlie the pain radiating from his chest. “Yeah, yeah, you’re strong, I’m weak, bh bh— we skip to the part where I win?”

  He unched another repulsor bst, but it cked its usual punch, barely grazing Vanko’s shoulder. Vanko ughed, the sound guttural as he swung the whip in a wide arc. Tony barely ducked in time, the energy slig through the air above him and shattering part of the track wall.

  Jarvis chimed in again, his tone urgent. “Sir, reactor failure is immi. Suggest immediate dise.”

  “Yeah, not an option, buddy,” Tony said through gritted teeth. He sed the surroundings quickly, his HUD pig up traces of the arc whip’s energy signature still embedded in the cracked pavement. A pn formed—half-baked, reckless, aly his style.

  Tony dodged another swing, his thrusters sputtering weakly as he leapt backward. “Well, they’d better hustle. Things are about to get real messy.”

  He turned his attention back to Vanko, who was advang again, his whip raised high. Tony crouched low, aiming his repulsors at the ground. He fired, the burst propelling him forward in a reckless charge. Vanko swung down, but Tony twisted mid-air, the whip barely grazing his side as he closed the gap.

  With a burst of thrusters, Tony smmed into Vanko’s chest, grabbing onto the exposed reactor housing. Sparks flew as Vanko roared in fury, his free hand swinging wildly in an attempt to dislodge Tony.

  “Yeah, this is what I call getting personal,” Tony muttered, ign the seari radiating from the reactor. His gaus cmped down, log onto the reactor’s frame. “Let’s see what makes you tick.”

  He yanked hard, the reactor sparking violently as he wre loose. Vanko’s entire body jerked, the whips falling limp as the power in his suit flickered. Tony stumbled back, the reactor in his hand glowing dangerously bright.

  Vanko colpsed to one knee, his breaths ragged as he gred at Tony. “You think... this stops me?”

  Tony tossed the reactor into the air, catg it nontly before aiming his repulsor at it. “No, but it’s a start.”

  He fired. The reactor exploded mid-air, the shockwave knog both men backward. Tony hit the ground hard, his suit groaning uhe impact as his HUD flickered. For a moment, everythi quiet, save for the ringing in his ears and the faint hum of his failing arc reactor.

  When his vision cleared, Vanko was slumped on the ground, his exosuit sparking and smoking. The energy whips y i beside him, their deadly glow extinguished.

  Tony pushed himself up slowly, his chest heaving. “Jarvis, status?”

  “Minimal power remaining. Arc reactor at 5%. I reend immediate extra.”

  Tony g Vanko, who was barely scious, his head hanging low. “Yeah, no kidding,” he muttered. He turoward the stands, where Happy was frantically waving him over.

  “Time to go,” Tony said, activating his thrusters. They sputtered weakly but mao lift him a few feet off the ground. He nded near Happy, who immediately shoved a b over the damaged suit.

  “Boss, you’re a mess,” Happy said, steering him toward the exit. “Pepper’s gonna kill you for this.”

  Tony groaned, letting Happy guide him. “Just another day in the life, Happy. Now let’s get out of here before the press makes me regret saving their asses.”

  As they disappeared into the chaos, the racetrack echoed with sirens, the aftermath of the battle leaving Monaco shaken.

  --

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