[Stark Expo. Flushing Meadows, New York.]
The crowd roared. Fireworks exploded in the shape of the Iron Man helmet. Tony Stark landed on the stage, tuxedo pristine beneath the suit (thanks to the quick-release system Sebastian designed).
"It's good to be back!" Tony shouted, basking in the applause.
Backstage, Sebastian Michaelis watched on a monitor. He checked his pocket watch.
"Pulse rate elevated. Respiration shallow," Sebastian murmured. "The palladium core is degrading faster than anticipated."
He looked at the Stark Industries medical scanner in his hand. Blood Toxicity: 24%.
"Sir?" A woman's voice came from behind him. "You're Mr. Michaelis, right? The Chief of Staff?"
Sebastian turned.
Standing there was a stunning woman with red hair, holding a clipboard. She wore a tight business skirt and a nervous expression.
"I'm Natalie Rushman," she said, extending a hand. "From Legal. Pepper sent me to get Mr. Stark's signature on the transfer deeds."
Sebastian looked at her hand. Then he looked at her eyes.
Time seemed to slow down.
To a normal human, she was a nervous paralegal. To Sebastian, the scent was unmistakable. Gunpowder. High-grade polymer. The blood of at least forty men on her hands. And underneath the perfume... the cold, metallic scent of the Red Room.
A spy, Sebastian thought, amused. And a very dangerous one.
He took her hand. "A pleasure, Miss Rushman. Or do you prefer... Widow?"
Natasha's heart rate didn't spike. Her pupil didn't dilate. She was good. "I'm sorry? Widow? Is that a legal term?"
Sebastian smiled—his closed-eyed, fox-like smile. "A figure of speech. You have a very... predatory aura. Excellent for a lawyer."
He let go of her hand.
"Mr. Stark is currently busy being a narcissist. But you may wait in the green room. I have prepared some blinis. A traditional Russian recipe. I thought you might appreciate the... nostalgia."
Natasha's smile faltered for a fraction of a millisecond. "I'm from Maryland, actually."
"Of course," Sebastian bowed. "My mistake. Maryland is famous for its blinis."
[Stark Mansion. The Gym. The Next Morning.]
Tony was boxing with Happy Hogan. Or rather, Happy was trying to hit Tony, and Tony was dodging while checking his toxicity levels on his watch.
"Focus, Boss!" Happy swung a haymaker.
Tony ducked. "I am focused. Just multitasking."
"Mr. Stark?" Pepper walked in, followed by Natalie (Natasha). "This is Natalie. She's the notary."
"Hi," Tony stopped, looking her up and down. "I want one."
"No," Pepper said sharply.
"She's a notary. Can she box?" Tony asked.
"I have done some... cardio kickboxing," Natalie said shyly.
"Great. Ring. Now." Tony gestured.
Natalie stepped into the ring. Happy sighed. "Boss, don't hit the girl."
"I won't hit her. I'll just teach her—"
Tony threw a lazy jab. Natalie grabbed his arm, twisted, wrapped her legs around his neck, and slammed him into the mat.
Thud.
Tony stared up at the ceiling lights. "Okay. Hired. Sebastian!"
Sebastian appeared at ringside holding a towel and a glass of green sludge. "Yes, Sir?"
"Did you see that?"
"Indeed," Sebastian looked at Natalie, his eyes glowing faintly. "Miss Rushman has excellent form. Almost as if she has been training since childhood. In a snowy climate, perhaps?"
Natalie stood up, smoothing her hair. She looked at Sebastian. The "nervous girl" act dropped for a second. Her eyes were cold, calculating steel. She knew that he knew.
"I just learn fast," Natalie said, her voice even.
"I am sure you do," Sebastian handed Tony the green juice. "Drink up, Sir. Your... condition requires it."
Tony frowned at the juice. "You're buzzkill, you know that?"
"I am a butler, Sir," Sebastian replied, maintaining eye contact with the Black Widow. "It is my job to clean up the messes. Even the ones that are... infiltrating the house."
[S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier. Director Fury's Office.]
Nick Fury threw a file onto his desk. It slid across the surface, hitting a coffee mug.
"Tell me I'm crazy, Hill," Fury grunted.
Maria Hill looked at the photos.
Photo 1: 1943. Howard Stark demonstrating a prototype. In the background, a tall, pale man in a black suit. Photo 2: 1970. Howard Stark at the Stark Expo. The same man is holding an umbrella. Photo 3: 2008. Tony Stark's press conference. The same man is standing in the wings.
"Facial recognition is a 100% match," Hill said, disturbed. "Sebastian Michaelis. No birth certificate. No social security. No taxes. He just... exists."
"He's not a mutant," Fury leaned back. "Mutants age. Cap was frozen. This guy? He's something else."
"Romanoff is inside," Hill noted. "She says he made her immediately. She thinks he's dangerous."
Fury stood up and looked out the window. "Stark is dying. The palladium is killing him. If Stark dies, the Iron Man tech is up for grabs. And I get the feeling the only thing keeping Stark alive isn't science... it's the butler."
"What do we do?"
"We bring them in," Fury said. "I want to have a chat with Mr. Michaelis. I want to know what the hell he's been feeding the Starks for seventy years."
[End of Chapter 11]
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