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Inside the car, after Natasha finished changing into her tactical suit, she glanced at the rearview mirror.
Marcus was driving with perfect composure, eyes on the road, expression completely neutral. As if he hadn't just watched her strip down to her underwear and change clothes in his back seat.
"Mr. Reed," she said carefully, "you don't seem surprised at all."
"By what?"
"By any of this." She gestured at her SHIELD uniform. "Did you know who I was all along? Is that why you rejected my application to Rockwell Industries?"
It was a point of professional pride, actually. Natasha Romanoff didn't fail infiltration missions. But Rockwell had rejected her application without even granting an interview. Ada Wong had seen right through her cover.
Marcus's expression remained neutral. "Miss Rushman—or should I say Romanoff?—I have no idea what you're talking about. We didn't hire you because you didn't meet our qualifications in certain areas."
He pulled the car to a stop. "We're here."
The Hammer Industries headquarters building loomed ahead, all glass and steel and corporate branding.
Marcus got out of the car without waiting for a response.
Natasha studied him for a moment longer, then followed. She'd get answers later. Right now, they had a terrorist to catch.
The building's lobby was mostly empty—everyone had evacuated when the expo went to hell—but two security guards remained at the entrance.
"Hey!" one of them called out. "You can't come in here!"
Marcus didn't slow down. He walked straight up to the guard and punched him in the face.
The guard dropped like a puppet with cut strings.
His partner reached for his radio, but Natasha was already moving. She jabbed him with a taser, fifty thousand volts dropping him instantly.
The whole encounter took maybe three seconds.
Natasha glanced at the guard Marcus had hit. The man was out cold, nose bleeding but otherwise intact. Marcus had pulled the punch just enough to avoid serious damage while still guaranteeing unconsciousness.
"Strong," Natasha noted mentally. "At least two to three times normal human strength. Possibly enhanced. Combat experience matches intelligence reports."
They moved deeper into the building.
More guards appeared in the corridors—Hammer's private security, mobilized to defend against intruders. They came in pairs and groups, trying to overwhelm with numbers.
Natasha used a combination of martial arts, tactical positioning, and her equipment to take them down. Disarm, strike weak points, use their momentum against them, apply chokeholds until they passed out.
Marcus just punched people.
One punch per guard. Sometimes two if the first one didn't quite do it.
His physical strength was ridiculous—over ten times normal human baseline, though Natasha didn't know that. With just a fraction of his power, he could deliver two tons of force. If he hit someone full strength, he'd kill them.
So he held back. Just enough force to guarantee unconsciousness without causing permanent damage.
The guards went down one after another, littering the corridor behind them.
In the server room, Ivan Vanko watched the security feed with growing concern.
He didn't know who these two were, but they were clearly coming for him. And those guards weren't even slowing them down.
Time to leave.
Ivan pulled on his new armor—not the crude harness from Monaco, but a full combat suit he'd been building in secret using Hammer's resources. Heavier, better armed, with flight capability.
He activated the boot jets.
Nothing happened.
"What?" Ivan checked the diagnostics. Everything showed green. The system should be working.
He tried again. Still nothing.
"What the hell is going on?!"
Marcus felt the moment Ivan tried to activate his flight systems. Felt the energy surge, the repulsor jets priming.
And then Marcus's telekinesis reached into the armor through microscopic gaps in the plating, found the key coupling connecting the reactor to the flight system, and twisted it into useless scrap metal.
"I came all this way," Marcus muttered. "You're not leaving before I get there."
Natasha glanced at him. "What?"
"Nothing. Just thinking out loud."
They reached the server room.
Empty.
"He's gone!" Natasha said, immediately moving to the nearest terminal.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, accessing Hammer's systems. "I'm taking back control of Colonel Rhodes's armor."
She pulled out a comm unit and patched into the SHIELD network, simultaneously coordinating with JARVIS through Tony's systems. Between her hacking skills and Tony's AI, they cracked Ivan's control protocols in under two minutes.
In the park, Tony was grappling with Rhodes—or rather, with Rhodes's hijacked armor.
"Sorry, Tony," Rhodes grunted, struggling against his own servos. "Can't stop it—"
Then suddenly, he could.
The red warnings on his HUD vanished. Manual control restored.
"Tony," Natasha's voice came through his comm. "Your friend is back."
Tony sagged with relief. "Thanks, Agent Romanoff. I owe you one."
"You have incoming," Natasha warned, watching her screen. "Multiple hostiles converging on your position."
The remaining ground-based drones—the ones that couldn't fly—were closing in on the park.
Tony and Rhodes stood back to back, weapons charging.
"Ready?" Tony asked.
"Let's do this."
Back in the server room, Marcus sensed Ivan approaching.
"Agent Romanoff," he said calmly. "I think Ivan's coming to visit."
Natasha looked up from her terminal. "What?"
The wall exploded inward.
Dust and debris filled the room as Ivan Vanko stepped through the hole, armor gleaming. His suit was bigger than Tony's—bulkier, more brutish in design. The most distinctive features were the electrified whips mounted on his forearms, crackling with lethal voltage.
Ivan's voice boomed through his suit's speakers. "I don't know why my armor malfunctioned, but you seem to be friends of Stark's. I'll capture you and use you as leverage!"
Natasha's tactical analysis was immediate and damning: Armored opponent, superior strength, energy weapons. No viable combat strategy. Retreat.
"Run!" she shouted, throwing a flashbang at Ivan's faceplate.
BANG!
Blinding light filled the room. Natasha was already moving, sprinting for the door.
Marcus didn't move.
He stood perfectly still as Ivan lunged forward, one massive armored hand reaching for him.
Marcus raised a single finger.
Ivan's palm hit that finger and stopped.
Completely.
As if he'd just tried to crush a steel beam with his bare hand.
Inside his armor, Ivan stared at his readouts in disbelief. Maximum servo power. Several tons of force.
Stopped by one finger.
"IMPOSSIBLE!" Ivan roared.
He pushed harder. The servos whined with strain.
Marcus's finger didn't budge.
Behind him, Natasha had turned back at the sound of Ivan's shout—prepared to provide covering fire, maybe create a distraction so Marcus could escape—
And froze.
Marcus was holding back Ivan Vanko's multi-ton combat armor with a single outstretched finger, expression calm, not even breaking a sweat.
"This guy..."
Plz throw powerstones.