In Marvel With Unique Skill Great Sage (MCU) [98]

The sight of the Mark III armor flying overhead cranked the excitement level way up. Cheers and applause erupted through the crowd like a tidal wave.

Nearby, in a fancy restaurant overlooking the track, things were just as lively.

This was one of the spots the event organizers had booked out specifically to host wealthy guests and celebrities.

Tony Stark himself was seated at one of the banquet tables, holding a glass and chatting cheerfully with a middle-aged man dressed in a sharp white suit.

Truth was, the armor flying outside was empty. Jarvis was just piloting it remotely, following a pre-set flight path.

"...Oh, absolutely! Thanks again for sending those invites, they were great," Tony was saying, clearly enjoying showing off. "I didn't expect the organizers to also invite me personally, though, especially as a special guest... Hahaha, what can I say? The name Stark just carries weight, you know..."

Happy Hogan and Natasha Romanoff stood a short distance away. Natasha's mission to keep an eye on Stark wasn't over yet. And since Pepper didn't know she was actually a spy, Natasha hadn't been fired.

Stark wanted to fire her, badly. But Pepper, the CEO, had hired Natasha as her personal assistant... which meant Stark, despite owning the company, didn't have the direct authority to just kick her out... A situation he found incredibly annoying.

Just then, Pepper and Lemu, who had arrived a bit later, walked over.

The man in the white suit sitting with Stark noticed them approaching and lowered his glass.

He recognized Pepper instantly – stunning in a black evening dress. She was the recently appointed CEO of Stark Industries and, famously, Tony Stark's girlfriend.

But the young woman next to her, dressed simply in a white shirt and black pants, looked unfamiliar. Maybe a younger relative of Stark or Potts? he wondered.

Stark laughed, clapping the man on the shoulder, and enthusiastically made the introductions. "This is Richie Strong, from right here in Monaco. He's big in utilities – gas, electric – and his family owns a few mines too. Mr. Strong was kind enough to get us the tickets."

He gestured to the others. "You already know Pepper... And this is Lemu Echeberria. She's my company's second-largest shareholder and also the head of the Northland Commerce Group."

Richie Strong looked at Lemu again, surprised. Northland Commerce Group? He'd heard of them. That mysterious group had popped up in the last year and made serious waves. Their investment choices were incredibly sharp, almost unnervingly accurate. Rumor had it they'd made thousands of investments without a single miss. They were already being called the new legend of the investment world.

"A real pleasure to meet you." His voice held a new note of respect.

"The pleasure's mine," Lemu replied with a polite smile and a nod.

Northland Commerce was just one of the larger shell companies the Great Sage had set up for Lemu, this one serving as his public business front.

"Well, well! Look who it is! Stark! The Iron Man himself!"

Suddenly, another figure pushed his way into their group. Slick suit, glasses, radiating forced charm – it was Justin Hammer. He seemed to have conveniently forgotten how he and Stark had been tearing into each other at the Senate hearing just days ago. Now, he wore a wide, overly friendly smile, clearly trying to network.

"...Listen, Vanity Fair wants to do an exclusive interview with me... and I thought maybe you'd like to join in?" Hammer practically oozed fake friendliness.

And slipping out from behind Hammer was a familiar face for Stark – the reporter, Christine Everhart.

Ah, fame... Lemu thought wryly. That 'Iron Man' name is pure gold. Even a supposed 'rival' like Hammer wants a piece of the shine.

Looking at the increasingly crowded and noisy scene, Lemu just smiled faintly, turned, and started walking away. "You guys have fun," he said over his shoulder. "I'm going to check things out outside. Sounds like the real party's out there anyway."

Once he was away from the restaurant, he casually pulled a baseball cap out of seemingly nowhere, tugged it low over his eyes, hiding half his face.

….

Out by the Monaco Grand Prix track, the crowd was immense – a dense sea of people pressing close together. A constant, low roar of countless voices filled the air.

Lemu adjusted the brim of his cap, melting discreetly into the crowd. He navigated through the throngs until he found a relatively tall broadcast tower nearby and climbed up the service ladder.

The top platform of the tower offered a wide, clear view, and best of all, it was empty. Everyone else was packed tightly around the edges of the racetrack below. This spot was set back a bit, too far for most people to get a good view without binoculars.

He leaned against the railing, looking down at the buzzing energy of the crowd below, and waited patiently. Waiting for the right moment.

The Great Sage had already detected Ivan Vanko's presence. He was here, somewhere down in that massive crowd, disguised in a track worker's uniform.

Lemu just needed Vanko to isolate himself, or wait until the crowds started to thin out after the race. Then... he could quietly take care of the problem. Permanently. No one would ever know.

Since Stark isn't actually driving in the race this time, Lemu thought, Vanko shouldn't have a clear opportunity to strike. He'll probably lay low. The race should proceed calmly, smoothly, without any major incidents...

Smooth sailing my ass!