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After returning from Monaco, Tony buried himself in research.
He investigated Ivan Vanko. Dug into Anton Vanko's history. Found old SHIELD files on the partnership between Anton and Howard Stark.
The picture that emerged was... complicated.
Anton Vanko had worked with Howard on the arc reactor, yes. But he'd also tried to weaponize it, to sell the technology to the highest bidder. Howard had him deported before he could do serious damage.
So Ivan's revenge quest was based on a lie his father had told him. Anton had rewritten history in his own head, made himself the victim, blamed the Starks for his own failures.
And Ivan had bought into it completely.
"Idiot," Tony muttered, closing the file.
But the investigation didn't make him feel better. Because even if Ivan was wrong about the past, he'd been right about one thing: Tony was dying.
A few days later, Colonel Rhodes showed up at Tony's mansion.
Again.
"The military wants a meeting," Rhodes said without preamble. "Monaco changed things. They know the technology can be replicated now. They want the armor, Tony. They're not asking anymore."
Tony barely looked up from his workbench. "Tell them to get in line."
"I'm serious."
"So am I." Tony finally met Rhodes's eyes. "I'm not handing over the suit. End of discussion."
Rhodes exhaled slowly, visibly restraining himself. "I convinced them to back off for now. But Tony, they're not going to let this go. You need to figure out how you're going to handle this."
"I'll handle it."
"When?"
"Eventually."
Rhodes left looking frustrated. Tony went back to his work, trying to ignore the blood toxicity monitor reading 89% on his display.
Eighty-nine percent.
He was running out of time.
Three days later, Tony decided to throw a party.
If he was going to die, he might as well go out having fun, right? Invite everyone he knew, drink expensive alcohol, blast music loud enough to rattle windows. Live like there was no tomorrow.
Because for him, there basically wasn't.
The mansion filled up fast—models, socialites, wannabe celebrities, people Tony had met once at some gala and never thought about again. They were all happy to show up when Tony Stark sent an invitation.
Pepper showed up too, though she looked less than thrilled.
"Tony, what are you doing?" she asked, surveying the chaos.
"Having fun," Tony said, already three drinks in. "You should try it sometime."
"This isn't fun. This is—" She gestured helplessly at the crowd. "This is self-destruction."
"Potato, po-tah-to."
Pepper looked like she wanted to scream. Or cry. Or both.
Instead, she just shook her head and walked away.
Tony watched her go and took another drink.
Rhodes arrived an hour later and immediately knew something was wrong.
The party was too loud, too chaotic. Tony was wearing his Iron Man armor—not the full suit, just the gauntlets and chest piece—and using the repulsors to make ice sculptures out of champagne bottles while drunk partygoers cheered.
This wasn't celebration. This was desperation.
"Tony!" Rhodes shouted over the music.
Tony grinned at him. "Rhodey! You made it! Want me to make you an ice sculpture? I'm getting pretty good at—"
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Nothing! Everything's great! I'm having the time of my life!"
Rhodes had seen Tony spiral before, but never like this. This was worse than anything that had come before.
He made a decision.
Without another word, Rhodes headed for the workshop.
Tony's underground laboratory was quieter, the soundproofing keeping most of the party noise out. The Mark II armor stood in its assembly frame, exactly where Tony had left it after upgrading to later models.
Rhodes stepped into the frame. "JARVIS, help me out here."
"Colonel Rhodes," JARVIS said, sounding almost concerned. "Are you certain this is advisable?"
"Nope. Do it anyway."
The assembly arms moved, attaching armor plates piece by piece. Within a minute, Rhodes was fully suited up in the Mark II.
He headed back upstairs.
Tony saw Rhodes coming and his grin faded. "Rhodey, what are you doing?"
"Stopping you," Rhodes said through the armor's speakers. "Before you hurt yourself. Or someone else."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine! Look at yourself!" Rhodes gestured at the destruction around them—broken furniture, scorch marks on the walls, terrified partygoers. "This isn't you, Tony!"
"You don't know what I'm going through—"
"Then tell me!" Rhodes shouted. "Stop pushing everyone away and just talk to me!"
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because there's nothing you can do!"
The words hung in the air.
Then Rhodes raised his repulsor. "Fine. If you won't listen, I'll make you."
Tony's eyes widened. "You're not serious."
"Take off the armor. Now."
"Rhodey—"
Rhodes fired.
The repulsor blast hit Tony in the chest, sending him flying backward into the bar. Bottles shattered. Glass rained down.
The partygoers screamed and ran for the exits.
Tony got to his feet, repulsors charging. "Bad move, Rhodey."
They clashed in the middle of the mansion, repulsor blasts destroying what was left of Tony's living room. Furniture exploded. The floor cracked. Artwork that had probably cost millions disintegrated.
Rhodes knew the Mark II couldn't match Tony's Mark IV in a straight fight. But Tony wasn't fighting seriously—he was pulling his punches, trying not to actually hurt his best friend.
That was the only reason Rhodes was still standing.
They smashed through walls, into the kitchen, back into the main room. Pepper watched in horror from outside, phone already in her hand.
She dialed Marcus's number.
Marcus was in his workshop at the Hamptons compound, working on something delicate involving arc reactor modifications, when Skynet's voice interrupted him.
"Incoming call from Pepper Potts."
Marcus blinked. Pepper rarely called him directly. "Put her through."
"Marcus!" Pepper's voice was panicked. "Thank God you answered!"
"What's wrong?"
"It's Tony! He and Rhodes are fighting—actually fighting, in armor, and they're destroying everything and I don't know how to stop them—"
Marcus was already moving. "I'm on my way. Keep everyone clear of the building."
He hung up and headed for the armory.
The Mark III sat in its display frame—the suit Tony had given him months ago, back before everything got complicated. Marcus had barely used it. Flying under his own power was more his style.
But showing up as Iron Man's friend in matching armor? That would send a message.
Marcus stepped into the frame. The assembly process took thirty seconds.
Then he launched.
The Mark III's top speed was Mach 3. Marcus added his own telekinetic boost, pushing the suit to Mach 4, then Mach 5. The g-forces should've killed him. His enhanced physiology and telekinetic reinforcement made it barely noticeable.
Less than two minutes after Pepper's call, Marcus landed outside Tony's Malibu mansion.
Pepper, Happy, and Natasha were huddled near the cars, watching explosions flash through the windows.
"They're inside!" Pepper shouted. "Please hurry!"
Marcus nodded and charged through the front door.
Inside was a war zone. Furniture reduced to kindling, walls with armor-shaped holes punched through them, fires burning in three separate rooms.
Tony and Rhodes were in the center of it all, grappling at close range, both trying to get a clear shot.
"STOP IT!" Marcus's amplified voice boomed through the armor's speakers. "BOTH OF YOU, STAND DOWN!"
They broke apart, turning to look at him.
"Marcus?" Tony sounded confused. "What are you—"
Marcus didn't give him time to finish. He lunged forward and punched Tony in the chest, sending him flying through a wall.
Then he spun and did the same to Rhodes.
CRASH!
Both of them hit hard, armor scraping against debris.
Marcus stood in the middle of the destruction, arms crossed. "Are we calm now? Or do I need to hit you again?"
Tony groaned, pushing rubble off himself. "That... was unnecessary."
"Was it?" Marcus turned to Rhodes. "Are you done?"
Rhodes got to his feet more slowly. "I didn't want to fight him. But he's out of control!"
"I'm not out of control!" Tony shot back. "I'm handling my problems my own way!"
"By throwing parties in armor and destroying your house?!"
"It's MY house!"
"Stop," Marcus said firmly. "Both of you. Rhodes, take the Mark II back to base. Tell the military they can have it. That should buy Tony some time."
Rhodes hesitated. "Are you sure?"
"Tony won't stop you. Will you, Tony?"
Tony's jaw clenched, but he shook his head. "Fine. Take it. I don't care."
Rhodes looked between them, then finally nodded. "Okay. But Tony—we're not done talking about this."
He activated the suit's flight systems and blasted off through the hole in the ceiling.
Once he was gone, Marcus turned to Tony.
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Marcus spoke quietly. "How bad is the palladium poisoning?"
Tony's expression went blank. Then resigned. "How did you—"
"Tony. I helped build your arc reactor. You think I didn't know about the palladium risk?" Marcus stepped closer. "How bad?"
Tony opened his faceplate, revealing bloodshot eyes and sallow skin. "Eighty-nine percent blood toxicity."
"And you haven't told Pepper."
"No." Tony's voice was raw. "And I'm asking you—as my friend—don't tell her either. Please. She doesn't need to know I'm dying."
Marcus looked at him for a long moment.
Tony's eyes were desperate. Pleading.
Marcus took a breath.
"I understand how you feel," he said carefully. "And as your friend, I should probably respect your wishes."
Tony sagged with relief. "Thank you—"
"But I refuse!"