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Rhodes's War Machine armor had been heavily modified by Hammer Industries.
The most obvious addition was the massive six-barreled Gatling gun mounted on his shoulder.
And right now, that Gatling gun was swiveling to aim directly at Tony.
"Rhodey?!" Tony's voice was sharp with alarm. "What are you doing? Is that you?"
"It's me!" Rhodes shouted back, panic clear in his voice. "But the armor's not listening! I can't control it!"
Inside the War Machine suit, Rhodes watched helplessly as his HUD flashed red warnings. System compromised. Manual override denied. Hostile control detected.
Justin had modified the armor. Which meant Ivan had access to it.
And Ivan had loaded it with a virus.
Now, standing on stage in front of hundreds of people, Ivan had activated that virus and seized control.
Click. Click. Click.
Behind them, every single Hammer drone on stage raised their arms in perfect synchronization, weapons targeting Tony at the center of the platform.
"Shit!"
Tony couldn't fight here. Too many civilians. Pepper was in the crowd somewhere.
"You want me?" he shouted at the drones. "Come and get me!"
He fired his repulsors and launched into the sky.
RATATATATATA!
The instant Tony cleared the stage, every drone opened fire.
Bullets tore through the air where Tony had been a second before, missing him by inches—and shattering the glass ceiling overhead.
CRASH!
Thousands of glass shards rained down on the crowd below.
Screaming. Panic. People running in every direction, trying to shield themselves from the falling debris.
Some of the drones took flight, pursuing Tony into the night sky. War Machine's thrusters engaged against Rhodes's will, lifting him up to join the chase.
Tony led them away from the expo, starting an aerial battle over the city.
But not all the drones could fly.
The ground-based units—Army and Marine variants—remained on the expo grounds. And under Ivan's control, they had only one directive: kill everyone.
They opened fire on the crowd.
People fell. Blood sprayed. The stampede intensified, and now people were being trampled in the chaos, crushed underfoot by the panicking mob.
Justin Hammer saw it all happening and immediately bolted for backstage.
In the crowd, Marcus remained calm.
He guided Ada to the edge of the chaos, away from the worst of the stampede. His telekinesis could shield them from stray bullets if necessary, but drawing that kind of attention would be problematic.
Nearby, Natasha grabbed Pepper and pulled her toward relative safety, ending up not far from Marcus and Ada.
Natasha watched Justin flee backstage. "We need to find out what's happening. Come on."
Marcus nodded. The four of them followed Justin into the control room.
Inside, Justin was shouting at technicians, demanding answers.
"What the hell is going on?! Why aren't the drones responding?!"
"Sir, we're locked out," one technician said, voice shaking. "Someone else has control. The system shows... it's coming from inside the company network."
"Inside the—" Justin's face went pale. "Ivan."
Natasha and Pepper entered behind Marcus and Ada.
"What did you do?" Pepper demanded.
Justin ignored her, but Natasha wasn't asking.
She moved with lethal speed, grabbing Justin's arm and twisting it behind his back, slamming him face-first onto a control console.
"Who's controlling the drones?" she asked, voice cold.
"Ah! It hurts—"
She twisted harder. "Answer the question."
"Ivan! Ivan Vanko!" Justin gasped out. "He's at my company headquarters! He's doing this from there!"
Natasha released him and turned to Marcus. "Can you protect Pepper here?"
Marcus shook his head. "You're going after Vanko, right? I'm coming with you."
He turned to Ada. "Stay here with Pepper. Keep her safe."
And don't use telekinesis unless absolutely necessary, he added through their telepathic link. Just show off your combat skills if anyone threatens her.
Ada nodded silently, understanding.
Natasha studied Marcus for a moment, weighing the offer. She'd read his file—or what little SHIELD had on him. Former captive from Afghanistan who'd somehow defeated the Abomination in Harlem. Enhanced physical capabilities, unknown extent. Close relationship with Tony Stark.
Having him as backup wasn't a bad idea.
"Fine," she said. "Let's go."
Marcus and Natasha sprinted out of the expo hall toward the parking area.
Marcus's Lamborghini was exactly where he'd left it, untouched despite the chaos. He unlocked it with a thought—literal telekinesis, though Natasha probably assumed he'd hit a button—and they both got in.
Marcus floored it, tires screeching as they peeled out toward Hammer Industries headquarters.
The route took them through the city, and along the way, Marcus could see the aerial battle still raging overhead. Tony was leading the flying drones on a chase through the downtown area, trying to draw fire away from populated zones.
Ground-based drones were scattered throughout the streets, firing missiles at anything that moved.
One missile missed Tony and slammed into an office building. The explosion lit up the night sky.
People were dying down there. Marcus could see bodies in the streets.
Natasha saw it too, jaw tight. But she didn't say anything. They couldn't fight dozens of armed combat drones with small arms. The only way to stop this was to take out Ivan.
Then Marcus saw him.
A kid—couldn't have been more than ten years old—standing in the middle of the street wearing an Iron Man mask and holding a toy repulsor that lit up. He was aiming it at a Marine-variant drone that had just turned toward him.
The drone's shoulder-mounted Gatling gun swiveled.
Locked on.
Shit.
Marcus couldn't ignore this.
He extended his telekinesis through the gaps in the drone's armor plating, found the main power coupling, and twisted.
The drone froze mid-motion, all systems dead. It toppled forward like a puppet with cut strings.
The kid stared at it, confused but alive.
Marcus drove past without slowing down.
Overhead, Tony must have seen what happened—seen the drone just suddenly shut down. He'd know Marcus was responsible. But he kept flying, leading the other drones away from civilians.
Good.
In the back seat, Natasha smiled slightly.
"You're not as cold as you pretend to be."
Marcus kept his eyes on the road. "I'm not as good as you think, either. That was convenient timing, that's all."
"Sure it was."
Marcus didn't respond.
Natasha let it drop. She'd already formed an opinion of Marcus Reed: enhanced individual with significant abilities, generally benign intentions, prefers to avoid attention but will intervene when necessary. Not a threat. Potentially an asset.
Then she started changing.
Without warning or hesitation, Natasha peeled off her business attire—blouse, skirt, all of it—revealing black lace undergarments and a body that was equal parts athletic and lethal.
She pulled a black tactical suit from the bag she'd grabbed at the expo. SHIELD-issue. Reinforced at key points, equipped with concealed weapons.
She dressed with practiced efficiency, completely unbothered by Marcus's presence.
Marcus maintained perfect control of the vehicle with one part of his attention while the other part calmly observed the process from start to finish via the rearview mirror.
Multitasking was an extremely useful ability.