Boom!
The electric whip lashed out with terrifying force, slicing through the air before crashing into a marble table.
The result was instantaneous.
What should have been an unyielding slab of stone—capable of withstanding blades without so much as a scratch—shattered on impact. The fracture glowed with molten red, as if it hadn't been struck by a whip at all, but by a searing beam of heat.
Screams erupted across the hall.
Ivan Vanko's sudden appearance threw the entire venue into chaos.
This was Monaco's grand annual event—one of the most iconic circuits in the world of Formula 1. A celebration that drew elites from across the globe, where wealth and status gathered in dazzling concentration.
And now—
Those same elites were filled with nothing but regret.
Why had they come?
Why leave behind their sprawling mansions, their private indoor pools, their luxury suites filled with world-class models and gourmet meals flown in from across the world?
Why—
Why had they come here to die?
"Pathetic," Ivan muttered, his voice dripping with disdain as he watched the crowd scatter like frightened animals.
His whip crackled with blue electricity, humming with lethal energy as he surveyed the room.
Then—
His gaze locked onto two figures.
Felicia.
Pepper.
Both women had gone pale, but unlike the others, they didn't panic. Fear was there—but controlled. They understood something the rest of the crowd didn't.
Blind panic only increased the chance of death.
For a moment, Ivan stared directly at them.
Then—
He looked away.
"Tony… Stark…"
His voice dropped into a low, guttural growl, thick with a Russian accent as he spat out the name like a curse.
And then he moved.
Step by step—
Toward the balcony.
Toward Peter.
Toward Tony.
"Oh my God—Tony!"
Pepper's expression changed instantly.
Only now did she notice it.
The device on Ivan's chest.
It looked eerily familiar.
Just like the one in Tony's chest.
But that was impossible.
Wasn't it?
There was no time to think.
"Tony! Run!"
Pepper shouted at the top of her lungs, her voice cutting through the chaos as she desperately tried to warn him.
But it was useless.
The balcony area was separated from the main hall by a thick glass door—soundproof, designed for private conversations among the elite.
Deals worth billions were meant to be discussed there.
Secrets were meant to stay there.
And so—
Even as Pepper screamed with everything she had—
Tony heard nothing.
CRASH!
Ivan's whip lashed out again.
The electrified coils tore through the reinforced glass and heavy curtains in a single strike. The barrier shattered instantly, fragments exploding outward in a storm of glittering shards.
Only then—
Did Tony finally realize what was happening.
Peter casually raised a hand, an invisible force sweeping outward and deflecting the flying glass before it could reach them.
Then he smiled.
Calm.
Almost amused.
"Well," he said lightly, glancing at Tony, "looks like our first contestant has arrived."
This smile—
Was genuine.
After all, what stood before him wasn't danger.
It was opportunity.
Ten percent of Stark Industries.
Even after absorbing Obadiah Stane's shares, Tony's total holdings likely didn't exceed seventy percent. The military held a portion. S.H.I.E.L.D. likely held another. And then there were the public shares.
Ten percent—
Was enough to make Peter the second-largest shareholder in Stark Industries.
And beyond that—
There was the Arc Reactor.
A limitless energy source.
A treasure beyond measure.
Patent it?
That would be a joke.
Patents required disclosure.
Full disclosure.
Otherwise, how could authorities determine infringement?
And even then, patents expired.
Once they did—
Anyone could use the technology.
But if Peter obtained the Arc Reactor?
He wouldn't need patents.
He could use it however he pleased.
Sell it to anyone.
And he already had the perfect buyer in mind.
A client with resources beyond imagination.
-----
Meanwhile—
Tony had no time for any of that.
He stared at Ivan Vanko, frozen in place.
His trademark goatee twitched slightly as his lips parted, closed… then parted again.
And finally—
With all the dignity of Iron Man stripped away—
He managed to squeeze out two simple words.
"…Help."
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T/N:
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