One week later
Miami heat hit like physical force when I exited the car.
AIM's facility was modern glass and steel—corporate headquarters disguising biological weapons research. Killian had invited me for "partnership progress review," which meant opportunity for intelligence gathering and subject identification.
"Remember," AEGIS said through my earpiece. "You're enthusiastic partner interested in commercialization timelines. Not infiltrator documenting evidence for future prosecution."
"I know how to lie."
"Yes, but Killian is perceptive. Maintain character consistency."
Killian met me at the entrance—expensive suit, perfect smile, confidence radiating from every gesture.
"Justin! Welcome to AIM headquarters. Ready to see what our partnership has produced?"
"Looking forward to it."
The facility tour began on the medical level.
Twenty-three subjects in various stages of Extremis integration. Twelve in private rooms resting comfortably—successful integrations showing enhanced strength and healing. Eleven in reinforced containment—periodic thermal overloads requiring sedation and ice baths.
My Scientific Intuition activated automatically, analyzing everything.
Viral vector attacking neural tissue. Cellular rejection patterns causing thermal dysregulation. Six subjects showing imminent cascade failure—internal temperature spikes that would trigger explosive decomposition within seventy-two hours.
"Impressive results," I said neutrally. "The twelve stable subjects show remarkable enhancement."
"We've perfected the formula," Killian said proudly. "Minor complications in some cases, but acceptable losses for revolutionary breakthrough."
Acceptable losses. He knows they're dying and calls it acceptable.
"What about the eleven experiencing complications?"
"Ongoing treatment. We're calibrating thermal regulation protocols." He pulled up medical charts that were obvious fabrications. "Expect full stabilization within weeks."
Liar. Those subjects were dead men walking.
"Can I examine the raw data? My stabilization research might identify optimization opportunities."
"Of course. Maya Hansen leads our biological team—she'll coordinate with your Dr. Vasquez." He led me to observation area overlooking the containment ward. "But first, let me show you the real breakthrough."
He activated video feed. Combat testing—Extremis subjects demonstrating superhuman strength, rapid healing, thermal generation melting steel. Impressive capabilities achieved through formula that would kill them within weeks.
"Military applications are obvious," Killian continued. "Super-soldiers without surgical enhancement or radioactive exposure. Mass-producible with proper funding. We're talking revolution in human capability."
"What about long-term stability studies?"
"Ongoing. But preliminary results are promising enough for scaled trials."
Which means he hasn't done long-term studies and doesn't care about consequences.
"Partnership timeline?"
"FDA approval pathways opening through your political connections. Manufacturing infrastructure through your facilities. Commercialization within twelve months. Split profits sixty-forty—my formula, your production capabilities."
"Ambitious timeline."
"Necessary timeline. Competitors are catching up. Stark's bio-tech research. Oscorp's genetic modification programs. We need market dominance before saturation."
I nodded along, playing the interested corporate partner while memorizing facility layouts, security systems, and subject locations.
Killian's office revealed his true motivations.
Wall covered with Tony Stark photos and news clippings. Bern rooftop rejection from 1999. Every Stark Industries achievement. Iron Man battle footage. Obsessive documentation of fourteen-year grudge.
"You want revenge," I observed.
"I want vindication." He touched one of the photos—Tony dismissing him with barely a glance. "He made me wait on that rooftop for hours. Treated me like nothing. Like I was beneath his notice." His voice went cold. "And now I'll show him what nothing achieved while he played superhero."
"How?"
"Mandarin." He pulled up terrorist videos—actor in costume delivering threatening speeches. "Fake terrorist covering our failed experiments. Bombings blamed on extremist while we refine formula using public as test subjects. Building to grand finale."
"Which is?"
"Assault on Stark's mansion. Kidnap Pepper Potts. Force Tony to watch her die from Extremis overdose." He smiled. "Then I'll offer him choice—accept my formula to save her or let her burn. Either way, he acknowledges my superiority."
Original movie plot. Happening on schedule despite my interference.
"That's... elaborate."
"That's necessary. Tony Stark dismissed me once. Won't dismiss me again." He turned from the wall. "But that's personal motivation. Professional motivation is market dominance. With your help, we achieve both."
I made appropriate corporate enthusiasm noises while internally calculating intervention points.
Subject extraction happened during facility tour's final phase.
Six unstable subjects Killian planned to "dispose of"—medical euthanasia disguised as treatment complications. Ghost Network operatives infiltrated as medical personnel, sedated targets, and replaced them with sophisticated dummies loaded with correct biometric signatures.
Real subjects evacuated through service corridors while Killian reviewed manufacturing projections.
"How soon can we scale production?" he asked.
"Depends on FDA approval timeline and component sourcing. Optimistically six months. Realistically twelve."
"I need six. Market window closes if competitors catch up."
"Then we'll make six work."
The tour concluded with handshake and partnership documentation. I left AIM facility with intelligence on Killian's timeline, samples of unstable Extremis formula, and six dying subjects secretly extracted for stabilization treatment.
Killian remained oblivious to infiltration.
Back at Hammer Tower, I reviewed extracted subjects' conditions.
Thermal dysregulation approaching critical levels. Cellular rejection patterns accelerating. Without intervention, explosive decomposition within seventy-two to ninety-six hours.
"Can you stabilize them?" Christine asked.
"My Extremis 2.0 formula corrects the thermal regulation problems. But they've been on unstable version for weeks. Damage might be irreversible."
"Try anyway."
"I will. But success probability is maybe sixty percent."
"Better than zero percent under Killian's care."
Maya coordinated treatment—each subject receiving modified Extremis 2.0 formula targeting specific rejection patterns. Complex medical intervention requiring three research teams working simultaneously.
Frank organized security. "Killian will notice six subjects missing eventually. When he does, he'll come looking."
"Then we're ready. ARES Division on alert. Prometheus armor deployed. We defend these people while stabilizing them."
Yelena sent encrypted message: "Stark protection detail active. Discreet 24/7 surveillance on mansion and Pepper Potts. Ghost Network monitoring Killian's communications for assault timeline."
Everything positioned for crisis that would test everything I'd built.
I stood in the medical wing watching research teams work on dying subjects whose only crime was believing corporate promises about experimental treatment.
This is why Killian needs to be stopped. Not just for revenge plot against Tony, but for treating people as disposable test subjects.
The void marks pulsed beneath my shirt. Seventeen percent and climbing.
But six people had chance at survival they wouldn't have had otherwise.
That was worth every percentage point.
Worth every complication.
Worth facing Killian's wrath when he discovered the infiltration.
Because saving lives mattered more than operational security.
And if that meant accelerating confrontation?
Then I'd face it enhanced and prepared.
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