In Marvel With Unique Skill Great Sage (MCU) [104]

Justin Hammer was having the best day he'd had in a whole year. He felt on top of the world.

Earlier in the year, just for kicks, he'd stopped by one of those little fortune-telling shops on the street and gotten his tarot cards read. 

The old woman doing the reading had told him he was in for a bumpy ride this year. 

Good things and bad things would come one after the other, like pairs a bit of luck, followed by trouble, then more trouble followed by some good fortune. 

She'd also warned him to stay away from the color red, or face some kind of terrible 'blood disaster'.

He hadn't believed a word of it, of course. Superstitious nonsense! Real go-getters, true believers in freedom and capitalism, don't worry about ghosts or fortunes! And look at him now wasn't this proof? He had two amazing things happening at once! Double the good luck!

First piece of good news: just a few days ago, he'd managed to pull some strings and get that brilliant Russian tech guy, Ivan Vanko, out of prison. 

Now Vanko was working for him, practically his personal genius-slave. Not only had Vanko already finished the designs for Hammer's own line of armored suits, but Hammer felt sure this would finally win him the big military contracts he craved. 

Influence in Washington seemed just around the corner.

Second piece of amazing news: the one and only, world-famous Iron Man Tony Stark himself! had called him personally to patch things up. 

Stark had sounded polite, almost respectful, and invited Hammer to his upcoming birthday party! 

As if that wasn't enough, Stark had also promised to give Hammer Industries prime exhibition space for their new products at the upcoming Stark Expo.

Sure, things had gotten a little heated between him and Stark during that Senate hearing a while back. 

But hey, that's business, right? 

In the world of industry and money, there are no permanent enemies, only permanent interests. And right now, their interests seemed to be lining up perfectly.

After hanging up the phone, Hammer found a mirror and checked himself out. Still looking sharp, as always. 

But... something felt off. This suit? It just seemed a bit... cheap. Not nearly fancy enough for such a high-class party thrown by Tony Stark.

He needed to change. Yes! Something bright red! Festive! Powerful! He completely forgot, or maybe just ignored, the fortune teller's warning about red bringing disaster. Right now, red just felt like victory.

Meanwhile, in the same building—where the upper floors housed offices and the lower floors held the workshops—down on the factory floor, inside a testing room...

Ivan Vanko was busy working at a computer, tweaking program code for the drones.

Suddenly, an icon flashed in the corner of his screen a new email had arrived.

He frowned, annoyed by the interruption, and clicked it open. As he read the message, his frown slowly twisted into a wide, chilling grin.

Interesting... Tony Stark himself. Inviting me to his birthday party? At his home?

Well, then. I'll have to prepare a very special... a very big gift for him.

He absentmindedly started fiddling with the pet bird perched on his shoulder. Annoyed, the bird gave his finger a sharp peck.

….

Back at the Stark villa, everything was ready for war.

Stark had made up an excuse to send Pepper away, keeping her safe and out of the loop.

In the main living room...

Stark, fully suited up in his gold and red Mark III armor, was lounging on the sofa. Or rather, pretending to lounge the suit itself was supporting his weight, hovering just slightly so he didn't actually crush the expensive furniture.

The Mark II armor, temporarily loaned out, was being worn by Colonel Rhodey. After wanting one for so long, he finally had his own suit.

Faceplate open, he looked both serious and thrilled, almost absently touching the cool metal of his chest plate like someone admiring a prized new possession.

Lemu sat casually on another sofa, his own Ghost Armor standing silently and imposing behind him.

The villa was eerily quiet. All the lights were on, bright and welcoming, but there wasn't a sound. Well, almost no sound. 

Except for the faint, rustling crunch of someone munching on snacks somewhere nearby.

A short while later, the quiet was broken. Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, strode into the room, firmly gripping the arm of a struggling Justin Hammer, whose hands were tied behind his back.

The moment Hammer crossed the threshold, he started yelling, eyes wide with panic, instantly shattering the tense peace. 

"Oh my god! What is this? What are you doing?! Let me go! This is kidnapping! You can't do this!" He sounded genuinely terrified. "I knew I shouldn't have come in! The driveway was empty, not a single car! I thought I was the first one here! God, I'm such an idiot! An idiot!"

His bright red suit the one he'd chosen so carefully was now covered in dust, and his hair was a mess sticking out at odd angles. 

It looked like he hadn't come along quietly and Natasha might have had to... persuade him, maybe with a brief introduction to the villa's expensive flooring.

Natasha, looking sharp and deadly in her black tactical suit that highlighted her dangerous curves, simply nodded to the others. "Ran into him at the entrance. Figured I'd bring him in."

As planned, Lemu had called her in. Her role? The usual cleanup crew. Lemu had already given her the evidence linking Hammer to Vanko's prison break and the planned drone attack. SHIELD's specialized 'aftermath services' were proving very convenient for Lemu.

The Ghost Armor raised one massive arm, pointing towards a room off to the side. It was Lemu's voice that spoke, though. 

"There. When the fighting starts, you and Hammer stay in that room. It'll be safer. Stray shots out here could be messy."

Natasha gave a quick 'OK' gesture, then practically dragged the still-protesting Hammer into the designated room, shutting the door firmly behind them. The living room became blessedly quieter.

Rhodey stepped closer to Stark, his expression visible under his raised faceplate now etched with worry. The initial excitement of wearing the suit had faded, replaced by the reality of the situation. 

"Hey, Tony. You said you were prepared... but how exactly are we supposed to handle over thirty of those drones? It's not really just... the three of us, right?"

Stark, whose own faceplate was also open, had a few glasses and a bottle of whiskey on the table before him. 

He took a sip, then held up three fingers, his eyes looking a little unfocused, maybe from the drink, maybe just bravado. 

"I told you, Rhodey, totally prepared... It's just... me... you... and him." He gestured vaguely towards Lemu.

He then threw his hands up dramatically, widening his eyes at Rhodey as if he'd heard something ridiculous. 

"Come on! Are you kidding me? The three of us aren't enough? What's the big deal? Taking out ten drones each? Is that supposed to be hard? Is it?"

Truthfully, Stark wasn't bluffing that much. He knew the force field generator Lemu had installed was more than capable of stopping anything Hammer's cheap knock-off drones could throw at them.

Colonel Rhodey held up a hand, trying to calm Stark down. "Stop, stop! Okay, Tony. Just... let me correct the math slightly. If there are thirty-three drones plus Vanko... it's more like eleven each."

….

Meanwhile, down at the base of the winding hill leading up to the Stark villa...

Ivan Vanko stood silently on the paved road, encased in his own rough-looking, whip-equipped armor. Behind him, rows of Hammer drones stood in a neat, menacing square formation, like a mechanical army awaiting orders.

Eight of the drones bristled with shoulder-mounted missile pods, two pods each. The remaining twenty-four hefted modified, heavy-duty rocket launchers designed for long-range bombardment. 

At the feet of the silent drone legion lay piles upon piles of extra ammunition, ready for a prolonged assault.

Ivan Vanko flipped open his faceplate. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, gazing up at the distant villa perched on the clifftop. It was blazing with lights, looking for all the world like a genuine, extravagant birthday party was in full swing.

A low, sneering laugh rumbled in his chest, full of smug satisfaction and cold contempt. "Heh... heheh... Stark. Get ready. Here comes your birthday present... the one I picked out just for you."