Chapter 52
Arc 5 - Ch 5: Wreckage
Date: Monday, May 30, 2011.
Location: Stark Expo, Flushing, Queens, NY
Tyson settled into his seat inside the Stark Expo Hall between Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy. Today, Oscorp promised to unveil a revolutionary breakthrough that would change the world. And Tyson had invested all his money on the bet that things would go disastrously bad for the company.
Dr. Otto Octavius strode onto the stage with a presence that commanded attention. As he reached the podium, the eager murmuring of the audience died down to an expectant hush. Octavius gripped the sides of the podium and leaned forward.
"My friends," he began, "today dawns a new era in clean, sustainable energy. An era where humanity's reach extends to the very power of the stars themselves!" The man spoke with the zeal of a true visionary. He stepped out from behind the podium and paced the stage. "For years, the greatest scientific minds have sought to harness the potential of nuclear fusion. And now, we stand on the cusp of this monumental achievement."
Tyson glanced at his companions. Peter scribbled furiously in his notebook while Gwen watched with rapt attention.
Octavius gestured grandly to the imposing metal monolith dominating the stage. "Behold, the Oscorp fusion reactor prototype! It shall be the crucible in which we forge a brighter future."
The reactor thrummed to life on cue, emanating a haunting blue glow. Awed whispers ruffled through the audience.
"But how will you control such a powerful reaction?" a skeptical voice called out.
Octavius smiled knowingly as if he had hoped someone would ask. "An astute question. Manipulating matter at the subatomic level requires tools of exceptional precision, durability, and control."
With a showman's flourish, he unveiled four gleaming mechanical arms nested beside the reactor. Octavius reverently ran a hand along a segmented limb. "These beauties are equipped with a sophisticated artificial intelligence, they shall serve as extensions of my genius and will. They will allow me to conduct the delicate fusion reaction with all the control and mastery of a virtuoso." As he spoke, he donned the harness, the servos clasped as the arms integrated with Octavious's body. Then, the arms came alive, rising and twisting with serpentine grace, weaving mesmerizing patterns in the air. The arms suddenly stilled and Octavius tapped the side of his head. "And have no fear. This inhibitor chip will ensure my mind remains the master and the machine the servant. There will be no HAL 9000 scenarios unfolding here."
The crowd chuckled, the tension broken. Octavius sobered and his voice dropped to a reverent hush. "My friends, the road ahead may be long. But today we take the first step into a brilliant tomorrow. A tomorrow where clean, abundant energy empowers humanity to reach glorious new heights."
He raised his arms, both the organic and the mechanical limbs, lifted in triumph, "I stand ready to be the herald of this new age. Will you stand with me?"
The audience surged in a standing ovation, Tyson and his friends among them. As the applause washed over him, Octavius basked with arms spread wide.
The crowd collectively held its breath as Dr. Otto Octavius engaged the fusion reactor. The machine thrummed to life, its lights pulsing like a living heart. A miniature sun burst into existence within the containment field, its brilliance casting the entire Expo hall in an ethereal glow.
Gwen stared, transfixed by the artificial star. Beside her, Peter Parker's camera clicked rapidly, immortalizing the historic event.
On stage, Octavius threw his arms wide in triumph. "Behold, the power of the sun, tamed by man!" His voice boomed through the hall, echoing off the vaulted ceiling.
For a glorious, shining moment, it seemed science had achieved the impossible. The audience erupted into thunderous applause. Gwen Stacy beamed with pride, though she hadn't worked on Dr. Octavious's project, after the fiasco with Dr. Connors, seeing Oscorp succeed brought a smile to her face.
But the celebration was cut short for Tyson as he felt a faint tug deep within his bones. This wasn't metaphorical from his meta-knowledge whispering of the danger he knew was coming. It was a literal sensation. His adamantium skeleton felt the pull of the shifting magnetic fields before anyone else noticed.
It began subtly. The sound of metal chairs scraping across the floor spread through the hall, causing the applause to falter. Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd as seats were drawn toward the stage. Octavius, lost in the euphoria of his success, seemed oblivious to the growing danger.
Tyson leaned close to Peter, "Something's wrong. We need to act now."
Peter nodded, his eyes already scanning for a discreet place to change into his alter ego. "I'll find a spot. Can you cover me with your illusions?"
Peter slipped away into the shadows, his eyes scanning the grand hall for a discreet place to change into his Spiderman outfit. Tyson grabbed Gwen suddenly in a bridal carry, causing the girl to let out a surprised yelp.
"Things are going south, time to go," Tyson said urgently as he sprinted towards the exit, Gwen securely in his arms. Illusionary doubles of himself and Gwen appeared in the seats they had vacated, ensuring that to the outside world, it would seem as if they had never left. Gwen did not protest being whisked away so abruptly, trusting that the two heroes had good reason for suiting up. She knew that if both Peter and Tyson were preparing then the danger was certainly imminent.
As Tyson dashed through the crowded aisles concealing Gwen with his powers, Peter slipped into a small maintenance room he had spotted earlier while scoping the layout. Moving quickly, he peeled off his civilian clothes to reveal the familiar red and blue Spiderman suit underneath. After donning his mask, Spiderman crept back out into the main hall, climbing stealthily up the walls and ceilings to gain an aerial view. As he observed the room from this hidden vantage point, his spider-sense began buzzing in warning, confirming that Tyson's intuition was correct.
On stage, the fusion reaction began to spiral out of control. The containment field flickered ominously, struggling to restrain the energy within. Alarms blared, their shrill cries barely audible over the rising panic of the crowd. Octavius frantically manipulated the controls, but it was too late. The miniature sun had grown unstable.
Metal began hurtling towards the reaction. Finally realizing the danger, the audience scrambled for the exits.
Amidst the chaos of the retreating crowd, a figure clad in red and blue swung into action. Spider-Man landed on the stage with the agility of an acrobat. His masked eyes took in the scene, assessing the best course of action. Tyson, now fully costumed as Mirage, stood at the edge of the stage, his metallic skeleton preventing him from getting closer. He focused his powers on guiding the fleeing crowd.
Illusions of Mirage appeared around the pavilion. He shouted and gestured at the spectators, directing them away from the danger.
Spider-Man leaped towards the fusion reactor, his webbing flying as he sought to contain the unfolding disaster. But the magnetic fields had grown too strong. Metal fragments pelted him from all angles, forcing him to twist and dodge with superhuman reflexes.
Octavius, his face a mask of desperate concentration, fought to shut down the experiment. His mechanical arms strained against the magnetic pull. The sun within the containment field had become a raging inferno, its surface roiling with reds and oranges. The Expo hall began to tear apart, metal support beams groaning as they were wrenched from their moorings. The ceiling buckled, raining dust and debris down upon the stage. Spider-Man webbed up the largest pieces, preventing them from crushing Octavius and the reactor.
Mirage felt the tug of the magnetic fields grow stronger with each passing second. His skeleton vibrated within his flesh. Gritting his teeth, he pushed through the discomfort.
Octavius shouted desperately, "I can't shut it down! It's not responding!"
Spider-Man landed beside him. "Keep trying, Doc! We'll buy you time!"
The fusion reaction had become an unleashed beast with an insatiable hunger. The miniature sun pulsed; its surface now a blinding white that seared the eyes. Metal shrieked as it was consumed, drawn into its heart, the magnetic pull strong enough to condense it down, molding it into the star's core. The noise was deafening, as the very foundations of the Expo hall shook.
The magnetic field churned violently, its unseen force warping the metal frame of the enclosure around Rosie Octavius, Dr. Octavius's wife, shattering the protective glass. Shards flew toward her like deadly rainfall, but Mirage having been forced further from the artificial sun by its pull, leaped in front of her. He shielded her body with his own, the glass embedding itself into his back as he wrapped his arms around Rosie protectively.
Spider-Man spun thick webs, creating barriers that protected the fleeing attendees from the relentless barrage of debris. He worked tirelessly to whisk person after person to safety. With each thrust of his arm webs shot out, rescuing an attendee from being harmed by the flying metallic debris.
Dr. Octavius battled to stabilize the fusion reaction, his mechanical tentacles thrashing like the limbs of a maddened kraken. Two metal appendages anchored themselves to the floor, preventing the intense magnetic forces from dragging him into the budding artificial sun. The other two tentacles worked feverishly to contain the reaction.
But then, the miniature star flared with blinding intensity, a burst of energy slamming into Octavius's body. The force of the explosion hurled him backward, unconscious. As he flew through the air, a piece of shrapnel found its mark. A surge of energy followed as the inhibitor chip on his spine was struck, sparking and fizzling out.
Peter watched in horror as Octavius's unconscious form began sliding toward the containment field, the limp tentacles no longer anchored to the ground. Spider-Man reacted quickly, firing streams of webbing to pin the unconscious doctor safely in place, preventing him from being drawn into the miniature sun.
Oblivious to the change in her husband, Rosie's eyes were wide with shock, her hands trembling as she looked up at Mirage protecting her and asked, "Is it over?"
Mirage reassured her, "Not yet. Hopefully, we'll have it under control soon. Quickly, get out of here." He ordered.
Pushing himself to move faster, Spider-Man was a blur as he web-slung, across the hall, saving several more from being consumed by the out-of-control star on his way. He reached the power controls, his hands a blur as they worked to shut down Dr. Octavius's experiment. The device refused to shut down, fighting his every effort. Gritting his teeth, Spider-Man resorted to grabbing the thick power cords and pulling with all his strength.
But the miniature sun only pulsed brighter. Its magnetic strength increased, dragging Tyson inexorably closer. Adamantium claws burst from Tyson's hands as he scrabbled for purchase, raking furrows in the ground. For a moment he held fast, anchored only by those indestructible talons.
A ghostly image of Tyson flickered into being beside Peter. "Spider-Man! I need your help! I'm being sucked in!"
"That shouldn't be happening," Spider-Man quipped back, still wrestling the cables, "not unless you're hiding a big metal belt buckle under that skintight suit. Just drop the jewelry and help me shut this thing down!"
Then Tyson's adamantium claws tore free from the ground. Unable to fight the sun's irresistible pull, he was dragged through the air. The illusion's shout matched Tyson's fear-filled admission, "My whole skeleton is metal! I need you! NOW!"
Spider sense screaming a warning, Spider-Man spun to see Tyson hurtling toward the blinding heart of the reactor.
Time froze, the moment stretching into an eternity as Spider-Man's enhanced perceptions took in every detail. With movements as precise as scalpel cuts, he fired weblines from both wrists. The silk strands shot across the room and adhered to Tyson's chest mere moments before the mutant would have reached the incandescent sphere. The webs stretched taut, fighting against the pull of the artificial sun.
Tyson screamed, a sound more primal and animal than human. For a single heartbeat, he hung suspended, silhouetted against the impossible brightness. Then, with agonizing slowness, Spider-Man began to haul him back, muscles straining against the tremendous forces at play.
But the rescue did not come without cost.
As Tyson's lower legs slid free of the reaction's grip, Spider-Man saw with horror that the tremendous heat had seared away his shoes, skin, and muscles. Only the metal bones remained from ankle to toes, glowing red-hot in the aftermath.
"Hold on!" Spider-Man anchored himself and pulled with every ounce of his prodigious strength. Tyson slid further away from the sun, inch by pain-wracked inch. The farther he came, the weaker the sun's pull became, the balance of forces slowly tilting. With a final mighty heave, Spider-Man dragged Tyson clear and hauled him across the room to collapse beside the control panel.
Spider-Man could only watch in astonishment as flesh rapidly regenerated over the glowing metal bones of Tyson's ruined legs. Muscle fibers, tendons, and skin flowed back as if time had suddenly reversed its flow. Tyson released another muffled scream as his body healed over the superheated adamantium endoskeleton. The stench of charred flesh permeated the air around him. But within seconds, each new layer of tissue that was formed was seared away, only to heal once more in an endless cycle of regeneration.
The healing acted to cool the metal and before long, Tyson stood before Spider-Man whole and unharmed, as if the horrific damage had never occurred. He did not even appear short of breath. Then with a slash, Tyson effortlessly parted the cables that had resisted Spider-Man's prodigious strength. The reinforced bindings split before Tyson's talons like paper yielding to the cut of scissors.
Spider-Man could only look on, shocked at the casual display. As the power cords severed, the room shuddered. A deep, resonant throb heralded the end of the catastrophe. The miniature sun began to collapse in on itself.
The implosion of the fusion reaction sent a shockwave blasting through the hall, shattering glass and sending dust and debris flying outward.
Mirage's illusions had guided the audience to safety. Most stood outside the Expo hall, their faces etched with awe and terror. In the aftermath, silence descended like a heavy shroud, broken only by the soft settling of dust.
In the sudden silence, Tyson quipped, "Guess you could say that I put my foot in it this time."
Spider-Man groaned. "Leave the jokes to the professionals. You may have one of the most popular shows in the city, but trust me, it's not because of the comedy." He paused for a second before asking, "You okay?"
Tyson answered that he was fine, though his top was torn his shoes were missing and his pants shredded from below the knee with the fabric melted at the endings. His wounds had already knit closed.
Spider-Man cocked his head, confusion evident even through the mask. "I didn't know you could heal like that. And I don't understand how the gravitational forces inside that star didn't crush your metal skeleton. And why do you have a metal skeleton anyway?"
Tyson gave a casual shrug of his broad shoulders. "It's not just metal, it's adamantium. A nearly indestructible alloy. I have other powers too. I'm surprised you didn't already know."
"How would I know you had more powers?" Spider-Man asked, puzzled.
"When we fought the Lizard at the high school, I used my claws and took on his appearance for a bit, remember?" Tyson said. "I pierced him right through with them."
Spider-Man nodded slowly as the memory came back. "That's right, I do remember that now. At the time I thought it was just an illusion. I didn't realize that transformation was real." He shook his head in wonderment. "You probably don't realize this, but it can be hard to separate what's real from what isn't when you're around."
Tyson gave a nonchalant shrug. "Yeah, I'll tell you all about my powers later. Isn't it funny and ironic that I tell your backstory to the world, but I haven't told you mine? But for now, let's get Doc Ock out of this wreckage."
Spider-Man nodded, casting his gaze around at the ruined hall. "Good idea. We've given this Expo crowd enough of a show for one day."
As the dust began to settle, and the wail of the sirens pierced the air, the true scope of the experiment's aftermath became heartbreakingly clear. The demonstration area lay in ruins. The attendees huddled together, some openly weeping, others shaking their heads in disbelief.
As the heroes removed Octavious, the last of the injured from the wreckage of the pavilion, the crowd began clapping. But the applause dimmed, replaced by a hushed murmur as Harry Osborn pushed his way to the front, his face a thundercloud of anger and accusation. His eyes locked a searing gaze filled with contempt onto Spider-Man and Mirage.
"You!" Harry's voice cut through the air like a razor. "You two are responsible for this! Attacking me, trying to tear down Oscorp!"
The accusation hung between them. Spider-Man stood firm, silent against the bitter words. But Mirage stepped forward, his voice cold as he retorted, "Oscorp's reputation is tanking all on its own. I'm getting pretty tired of fixing your company's mistakes." A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd, some had pulled out cellphones to record the exchange. Harry's face flushed crimson, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, the implication of incompetence and failure striking a raw nerve. Mirage pressed on. "Next time, maybe I should send Oscorp the bill. It's only fair don't you think? If I'm going to be a janitor, cleaning up your mess, you should put me on the payroll. " Harry's face burned an even deeper shade of crimson, his jaw clenching. Mirage pressed on relentlessly, his voice ringing out clearly in the hush created by their confrontation. "The least you can do is say thanks. We saved your scientists today and prevented your mistake from killing innocent people."
Mirage folded his arms across his chest, staring down the smaller man. Harry worked his mouth soundlessly, rendered speechless by the verbal lashing. His gaze darted between Mirage and Spider-Man, searching for a chink in their united front. Spider-Man offered Mirage a subtle nod of support, a wordless affirmation of their shared stance.
Mirage turned to walk away, dismissing the young CEO.
But Harry's hand shot out, grabbing his arm.
Leaning close, Harry's voice was venomous. "We aren't finished."
Mirage met his gaze unflinchingly, a challenge sparking in his eyes. "Says who?"
With a shimmer of light, Mirage's form dissolved into a swarm of butterflies, slipping effortlessly from Harry's grasp. The delicate wings fluttered briefly before coalescing into Mirage's solid form, a few feet away.
The crowd's murmurs grew louder, it was clear their support lay behind the heroes. Harry sensed the shift in sentiment and took a step back. Mirage stood tall, arms crossed, a picture of unflappable calm in the face of Harry's barely contained rage. Without another word, Harry spun on his heel and stalked away.
As the onlookers dispersed, Spider-Man and Mirage exchanged a weary glance. They split, slipping away, leaving behind the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles and the still-unconscious figure of Dr. Octavius. Oscorps hopes for heralding the future of sustainable energy lay with the presentation hall, shattered ambition amongst the wreckage.
— Rogue Replacement —
Tyson shut off his motorcycle, and the shrill ring of his phone replaced the quiet left in the engine's wake. He fished it from his pocket, eyeing the unknown number. "Hello?" he answered.
The voice that floated through the speaker was familiar, "Saw you on TV, nice work with the saves." Tyson's lips quirked into a smile as he recognized the voice. "Hello, Nat, what can I do for you?" he asked, leaning against his bike.
There was a heartbeat of silence before she spoke again. "I'm calling on behalf of my boss. Tony Stark. He's throwing a birthday party tonight and hoped Mirage could make the trip out."
Tyson's smile faltered, his hand drifting to his temple. The argument with the Ancient One the previous night and how things were left with Illyana remained a fresh wound that throbbed with each thought. He wondered, half-seriously, if Stark's top-shelf booze could drown out his lingering sorrow, even for a little while.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
"Are you guys going to fly me out?" Tyson asked. He didn't fancy attending a party or social gathering. But seeing Nat again would make it worthwhile. It had been nearly two months since the opening night of House of M, the last time she'd been in town.
"Absolutely," Natasha confirmed. But she quickly added a warning, her tone dropping, "Remember, I'm undercover. Keep that in mind if you come."
Tyson mulled this over. "Would it be out of character for the new teenage superhero to try to pick up the elder superhero's new, hot young assistant?" he joked.
Natasha snorted in amusement. "I'll let Mr. Stark know Mirage will be attending," she said, the smirk in her voice was clear.
The call ended. Tyson glanced around the quiet street, before dialing Felicia Hardy's number.
"Tyson?" Felicia's voice crackled through the phone, concern etched into every syllable. "I saw you at the Stark Expo. Are you alright?"
Tyson couldn't help but smile at her worry, "I'm fine, Felicia. Really," he assured her, hearing the soft rush of static that followed her exhale of relief.
"So, are you headed back to the House of M?" Felicia asked.
"I'll do the show," he said, "but after that, I'm flying out to California."
Felicia's interest was tangible even through the phone. "California? What's taking you out there?"
"I got invited to Tony Stark's birthday party," he explained.
"Look at you, climbing the social ladder. It's about time you got out a little," she teased, "Need a plus one?"
"Not tonight," Tyson replied. He paused, giving a moment of consideration before he continued. "Can you contact our finance guy? There's something I need to take care of before I go."
"Sure, what do you need?" Felicia asked, all traces of humor gone, replaced by the sharp focus of a businesswoman.
Tyson leaned on his motorcycle, the leather seat creaking under his weight. "I'm sure Oscorp's stock is plummeting after this debacle. As soon as it looks like it's leveling out, sell the Oscorp puts. Then use all our gains to buy puts on Hammer Industries."
"Hammer Industries?" Felicia questioned, surprise coloring her voice like a splash of paint on a blank canvas. "You think they're going to dive too?"
Tyson remembered his encounter in Washington. "It's guaranteed. I met Justin Hammer at the Senate hearing. And forgive the pun, but the guy is a tool."
Felicia chuckled, "You got it, Tyson. I'll handle it."
— Rogue Replacement —
Bright spotlights danced across the grand facade of Tony Stark's mansion. The air was thick with the heady scent of expensive perfumes, mingling with the pulsing beats of the DJ. Guests decked in an array of designers ranging from business casual to sharp tuxedos arrived in a stream. Tyson stood out like a beacon. His Mirage costume failed to conform to the accepted dress code.
As he stepped inside, Tyson was impressed by the opulent mansion. Quite the feat considering he spent the past year living in a five-star hotel. Heads turned as Tyson made his entrance. The guests wondered, was it Mirage, or just an impersonator? He could practically feel their curious gazes prickling against his skin.
Natalie Rushman emerged from the sea of guests. She was a vision in a sleek, leopard-print dress that accentuated her curves. Fiery dark red curls cascaded over her bare shoulders. When she smiled at Tyson, a glint sparked in her emerald eyes conveying a hidden depth beyond merely seeing a superhero in costume. That secret was shared only between the two of them.
As they embraced in greeting, Tyson leaned in close and purred, "Rawr" teasingly in her ear.
Natalie responded by playfully swatting at his chest, though she kept her voice low as she whispered back, "Undercover. Remember."
He replied, "That was in character! I swear. Besides, illusions. Remember." Tyson parroted back at her, "Everyone else is just seeing us shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries. "They wouldn't notice anything we did. We could…"
Nat interrupted, rolling her eyes, "I'm gonna stop you right there." She grabbed his arm and guided him through the guests. "You should meet the boss," she said.
Instead of Tony Stark, they stopped before Pepper Potts, the newly anointed CEO of Stark Industries. She wore a conservative black dress, radiating confidence and authority. Tyson took in the way she commanded the attention of those around her.
"Congratulations on your promotion," he said, extending his hand in greeting. Pepper's grip was firm, her smile warm and genuine.
"Thank you, Mirage. It's quite an honor," she replied.
They fell into easy conversation, Tyson inquiring about Stark Industries, and Pepper sharing her vision for the company's future. He listened intently, absorbed in the exchange of ideas. As Pepper was pulled away to speak with another magnate, Tyson was left adrift in the sea of guests. He wandered through the party, taking in the faces of industry moguls and celebrities alike.
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted, all eyes drawn to the entrance like moths to a flame. Tony Stark had arrived. His smile was electric, his stride confident, and his charm dialed up to eleven. "Welcome to my little shindig!" he called out, his voice rising above the music.
Stark worked the room, shaking hands, clapping backs, and trading quips. Guests clamored for his attention, their faces lighting up when he turned his charm their way. As the party kicked into high gear, Stark's laughter boomed, his antics becoming more and more outrageous. He was the life of the party, the guests feeding off his manic energy. His behavior grew more erratic, more flamboyant.
Tyson found himself with a glass of high-proof alcohol in hand. He drank like it was soda. His healing factor rendered the effects short-lived, but he savored the momentary sting of the alcohol and the warmth spreading through his veins. It was nice to feel the buzz, however brief.
Stark's voice boomed over a microphone now, "I love you guys!" The guests cheered in response, their adoration for Stark palpable.
As the night wore on, Stark's actions grew more reckless. He danced atop a table, his movements just a bit too unsteady, his laughter just a bit too loud. Concern flickered across some faces, to be quickly masked by indulgent smiles.
As the party reached a fever pitch, Tyson watched as the billionaire playboy downed another drink, his laughter taking on a manic edge. Stark was using the noise and the alcohol to drown out his demons. Tyson's enhanced senses picked up on the subtle changes in Stark's heartbeat, the slight tremor in his hands. He recognized the telltale markers of a man on the edge. He saw beyond the mask, beyond the bravado. He saw a man struggling with his mortality while grappling with the weight of world peace on his shoulders. And thanks to his meta-knowledge, Tyson understood. For all his wealth and genius, for all his gadgets and armor, Tony Stark was just a man. A man trying to outrun his demons no suit of armor could shield him from. To find solace in the crowd's adoration. Beneath the glitz and the glamour, beneath the red and the gold, there was a man in pain.
As the party reached its crescendo, Tyson stood on the periphery, a silent observer amidst the revelry. Stark raised his glass, his voice rich with unspoken emotion. "To the future!" he shouted, the words were a promise as much as a dedication.
The guests echoed his toast. Tyson lifted his empty glass, the liquid had become a victim of his healing factor and made a silent toast to a man too complex for most to understand.
Tony moved through the crowd with the ease of a man who owned the place, because, well, he did. Stark approached Tyson at the bar, eyes glinting with mischief, a woman trailing in his wake like a shadow.
"Mirage, meet my new assistant, Natalie," Tony introduced, "She's only a few years older than you. You could learn a lot from her, maybe connect. You'd do well if she took you on as a mentor." He chuckled, relishing the moment.
Tyson extended a gloved hand, "You're even more beautiful in person than your voice suggested. I'd love to learn from you." his flirtation veiled an inside joke.
Tony's grin widened, and he turned to Natalie with an exaggerated wink. "You should see what this guy can do," he teased.
He wasn't just Tony Stark now; he was a showman, ready to give his guests something worthy of talking about. Raising his voice, Tony announced, "Mirage is pretty awesome, isn't he? How about a demonstration?" The suggestion ignited like wildfire, and soon, a chorus of partygoers chanted Mirage's name.
Amidst the cheers, Mirage raised his hands, signaling for quiet. "I know it's a party for Tony Stark, but how many of you think you really know Iron Man?" he asked.
The response was a roar of approval, the crowd's excitement palpable. Without missing a beat, Tyson began weaving his illusion.
The mansion around them fell away, and the group was standing in a mountainous region of the Middle East. Tony Stark stood above the crowd his hands outstretched as he demonstrated the latest Stark Industries weapon, the Jericho.
The guests were instantly captivated. The tale of Iron Man's origins came to life, the images so real that the audience could almost believe they were standing alongside the genius as he constructed his first suit of armor in a cave with a box of scraps.
A half-hour passed as Tyson presented a condensed version of the events of the Iron Man movie. The narrative weaved a spell over everyone present. Gasps and murmurs of amazement punctuated the air. As the final image faded, the room erupted in applause. Tyson bowed slightly, acknowledging the praise.
The buzz about Mirage's illusion show was cut short as Tony Stark, clad in his Iron Man suit, climbed onto the stage, clapping loudly. The guests' attention snapped to the armored figure, their conversations shifting from the fantastical illusions to the technological marvel on casual display before them.
Natasha let out a sigh that spoke volumes. "It's like babysitting a child," she muttered under her breath, her expression a mix of frustration and concern.
Colonel James Rhodes stepped up next to Mirage wearing his military outfit, and offered a nod of recognition. "Saw you at the Senate hearing but didn't get the chance to talk to you," he said before asking, "Is Tony actually in the armor? Or is it another one of your illusions?" his tone was hopeful but edged with skepticism.
Mirage confirmed with a simple, "That's all him," and the resignation in Rhodes's eyes was palpable.
Rhodes's voice lowered, his words directed at Pepper. "Do something about him, or I will." His role as the dutiful colonel overshadowed his concern as a friend.
Pepper grasped the gravity of Rhodes' threat as a military officer and made her way onto the stage. She took the microphone with a practiced hand and tried to defuse the escalating antics.
"Okay, let's wrap it up," Pepper said, her eyes on Tony, who was still suited up as Iron Man, surrounded by a ring of excited partygoers. She whispered, "Tony, you just peed in the suit."
"But it has a built-in filtration system. It turns it into water clean enough to drink." he insisted playfully. He knew she was trying to end the party without ruining the mood. Pepper returned the microphone to the DJ with a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her glance towards Tony was filled with exasperation.
Tony, not missing a beat, hijacked the moment. "Alright, everyone, the party is over," he announced, though the playful glint in his eyes suggested he was far from finished.
"But for me," Tony continued, "the party was over after Mirage's show. Now the after-party begins." His words were a cue for the real celebration, or perhaps the real chaos, to start.
Pepper's smile faded as she watched Tony continue showing off in his Iron Man suit. He used his repulsors, the energy beams fired from his hands, to blast objects tossed by the partygoers. Each time he fired, the objects exploded into pieces, sending debris flying dangerously close to the guests.
Rhodes had enough.
He turned and left the room without a word, his disappointment and frustration with Tony evident in his brisk stride.
Natasha stood with her arms crossed watching the scene that Tony Stark was creating. It was spiraling quickly, and her instincts as an agent were kicking in. She turned to Tyson, "Any chance you can de-escalate this?" Her voice held an edge of urgency to it.
Tyson glanced at her, a playful spark in his eyes. "Yup!" he replied confidently. Natasha gestured, silently urging him to take action. He grinned, sensing an opportunity. "But it's going to cost you," he teased, mischief evident in his tone.
Before she could ask what he wanted, Tyson cut in. His expression softened, the playfulness replaced with sincerity. "Another date," he said, not as a demand, but as someone asking for a chance. "No pretense, no spy games, no masks. Just us, getting to know each other… Truth or Strip is optional."
Natasha's initial surprise shifted as she recognized his honest interest. "Fine. One date," she agreed with a trace of warmth.
As Tony aimed at another wine bottle, Tyson made his move.
When Tony's repulsor beam hit the bottle, in the place of shattering glass, 2D words materialized in mid-air, reading "Great Shot!" A comical 'Womp-Womp' sound followed, and the room's mood shifted.
The room darkened instantly, and a spotlight illuminated the woman who threw the wine bottles. Suddenly, a judge's podium with a robed figure appeared onstage as the woman's cocktail dress transformed into an orange prison jumpsuit.
"Wasting good wine is a crime!" declared the judge from the illusion as he dropped the gavel.
The crowd erupted into laughter, the tension broken by the humorous display.
Just as the illusion faded and the laughter began to subside, Rhodes re-entered the room. This time, he was wearing the silver Iron Man Mark 2 armor. Amplified by the suit, his voice rang out authoritatively, "Party's over! Get out!"
The atmosphere changed in an instant. Tony turned to see his friend in the other suit. Rhodes's stance and tone left no room for argument. The playful air had vanished, replaced by a sudden seriousness. The mood of the party shifted in a heartbeat.
Suddenly, as if called forth by an unseen signal, dozens of Iron Man armors materialized around the room. Each one directed the guests with a calm authority. "Please make your way outside for the main event," the illusions announced in unison, their voices echoing through the house.
The guests, previously enthralled by the spectacle, now moved in an orderly fashion, guided by the illusionary armors towards the exits. The calmness and efficiency of the evacuation proved the convincing nature of Tyson's powers.
Before Natasha moved to join the retreating party-goers, she leaned in close to Tyson and whispered, "Do your best to keep it contained."
Tyson shot back, "Do I get bonus points for that?"
She didn't verbally respond, but the sultry look she threw over her shoulder spoke volumes. Then, she turned and hurried away, her stride carrying a deliberate sway, leaving a trail of her signature confidence. Tyson watched her departure, stirring anticipation within him. He remembered their last date. It was an evening full of surprises. The memory left him smiling and looking forward to their next one.
The visor on Rhodey's suit dropped and he said, "You don't deserve to wear that suit."
Tony called out with a chuckle, "Hey DJ!"
The DJ who'd been hiding in his booth area, popped into view and asked, "Yes, Mr. Stark?"
Tony answered, "Give me a fat beat to beat my buddy's ass to." his words cracked towards the end as he broke out into laughter.
The DJ fumbled for a moment before the beat of 'Another One Bites the Dust' by Queen filled the room. Tony bobbed his head to the rhythm, his earlier carefree demeanor shining through the seriousness of the situation.
Outside, the night had fallen. The party-goers, ushered to the lawn a safe distance from the mansion by Tyson's illusions looked back at the near-empty house. With a final glance at Natasha's retreating form, Tyson refocused, ensnaring the crowd in his illusion. Though outside the mansion, they were treated to the view within, as if they'd never left the house. The image of the escalating confrontation between Iron Man and the other armored man was clear for all to see.
Rhodey, suited up in silver, approached Tony, wrapping his arms around the golden-suited Iron Man. It was clear this was no friendly hug. He demanded, "I told you to shut it down. Now!"
The onlookers outside held their breath. Tyson couldn't resist adding his flair to the spectacle. He conjured up a huge, floating text that materialized above the two combatants. The words "Round 1! Fight!" flashed in bold letters, accompanied by the iconic voiceover from the video game Mortal Kombat. The effect drew a mix of laughter and cheers from the crowd outside.
Tony's helmet visor snapped down with a sharp whir, signaling his readiness. He fired the repulsors on his feet, blasting backward with Rhodey still clinging on. The pair smashed through the mansion wall, crashed through the steamy sauna on the other side, and tumbled into the expansive home gym.
The collision left Rhodey sprawled on the ground amidst the rubble, but Tony smoothly engaged his hand repulsors, steadying himself into an effortless hero's pose that oozed confidence and style.
Above their heads, a notification appeared, visible to both them and the audience outside, declaring "Iron Man - 1, Suit Thief - 0."
The crowd erupted into a mixture of boos and applause, captivated by the unfolding drama.
The gym equipment lay scattered. Dumbbells and medicine balls were strewn across the floor. Tony strolled away from Rhodey. "Now put that thing back where you found it before someone gets hurt," his voice carrying signature nonchalance.
Rhodey picked up a 45-pound weight plate and launched it like a frisbee. The heavy plate flew straight at Tony, striking him on the head with a resounding clang. Tony stumbled, the blow catching him off guard. Unfazed, Rhodey reached for another plate, again sending it hurtling toward Tony. This time, Tony leaned to the side, dodging the impromptu projectile. The weight crashed into the remains of the sauna's glass walls.
A comic-style "Miss!" appeared beside Tony.
Iron Man walked up to the weight bench and with one hand, grabbed the barbell loaded with 225 pounds. He effortlessly hoisted it, shaking his wrist slightly, sending the two bottom plates sliding off. Swinging the barbell with the ease of a baseball bat, he struck Rhodes, sending him flying into the boxing ring. The force of the blow made Rhodey crash against the opposite wall.
The crowd outside gasped and cheered at the illusionary display. Inside, Tony hovered over to Rhodey, his movements a bit unsteady from his earlier drunkenness that hadn't yet worn off.
"Sorry pal, but Iron Man doesn't have a sidekick," Tony slurred slightly, still maintaining an air of bravado despite his inebriated state.
Rhodey was quick to retaliate. Pulling himself up with the help of the ring post, he tore out the metal post and swung it like a baton. "Side. Kick. This!" he shouted, each word punctuated with a hit against Tony's armor. The metallic clangs rang out, almost rhythmic.
They grappled briefly over the ring post, each seeking to gain the upper hand. Then, with a sudden upward swing from Rhodey, Tony was sent crashing through the ceiling, leaving debris falling and a Tony-sized hole leading to the floor above.
The ding of a bell from a boxing match rang, signaling the end of a round. The scoreboard blinked, updating to say, "Iron Man - 1, Suit Thief - 1."
Rhodey propelled himself upward from the gym, following the path Tony had unintentionally created. Hovering in the gap, he peered at Tony and called, "Had enough?"
Below, in the entry room, Pepper was approached by Natalie, "Miss Potts," she began, with urgency.
But Pepper was quick to cut her off, her frustration boiling over. "Don't you 'Miss Potts' me. I'm onto you! Ever since you came here..."
Her accusation hung incomplete as the ceiling above them caved in, sending Tony and Rhodey crashing down in a tangle of armor and dust. The impact had Pepper throwing her hands up instinctively, a yell of surprise escaping her lips. Natalie reacted differently, her body snapped into a combat-ready stance. Her eyes darted, assessing the situation in less than a heartbeat. But as the two suits disentangled, Natalie melted into the background.
Happy began moving forward to get Pepper to safety. But before he took a step, Mirage swept in. He snatched Pepper from harm's way, dashing the short distance to the crowd, and deposited her gently on the mansion's lawn. She barely had time to process her abrupt relocation before Mirage dashed back toward the mansion, leaving a faint afterimage in his wake.
Back inside, the high-tech brawl continued, Tony's fist connected with Rhodey, sending him sprawling across the kitchen. Pots and pans clattered in the wake of the scuffle. Rhodey latched onto whatever he could grab, which was the kitchen sink. He ripped it from the plumbing and with a grunt, he swung it at Tony. The metal sink met the metal suit with a resounding clang. Iron Man staggered, the force of the blow pushing him into the lit fireplace.
The onlookers outside were transfixed, eyes wide as the live drama unfolded on the illusion Tyson maintained. There were gasps and shouts, the crowd alive with adrenaline, spectators to a conflict none could have anticipated. Tyson had crafted an image that captured every detail, projecting the battle so that all could witness the intensity of the Iron Man showdown.
Inside, Tony Stark, covered in soot, rose to one knee, his hand lifted with his repulsor glowing menacingly. Across from him, Rhodey mirrored the gesture, his hand aimed and ready. Tension crackled in the air, thick enough to touch. "Put your hand down," Rhodey commanded, his voice firm.
Tony challenged him, "You think you've got what it takes to wear that suit?" His voice held an edge, a taunt that filled the room as much as the heat from the fireplace. Rhodes's responded quickly, "We don't have to do this, Tony." It was a plea as much as it was a warning.
"You want to be the War Machine? Take your shot," Tony pushed, defiance clear in every word.
Rhodey's voice rose, a note of desperation seeping through, "Put it down."
But Tony was unyielding, prodding further, "You gonna take your shot?"
The same demand came again, louder, "Put it down!" The words echoed off the walls.
Tony's reply was a shout, "Now! Take it!" And with that, they both unleashed the power of their repulsors.
The beams, one from each hand, shot out, colliding in a brilliant burst of light. The sound was deafening, the force unimaginable as it tore through the room. A shockwave exploded outward, sending fragments of the once-grand entry room hurtling in all directions. The mansion seemed to hold its breath before the blast, then exhaled debris and dust in a wild, uncontrolled gasp.
Tyson had thought ahead, his illusions had urged the crowd back far enough to ensure their safety before the anticipated climax. When the repulsor beams collided, the light was blinding, a searing flash that left afterimages dancing in the eyes of all who witnessed it. As vision returned, Tyson's illusionary scoreboard updated.
The name suit thief was crossed out and replaced with War Machine. The scoreboard read, 'Winner! War Machine!"
Tony Stark, Iron Man, lay in his battered suit slumped against what remained of the fireplace. Rhodey, now the victor, activated his suit's repulsors. He took off into the night sky, leaving a trail in his wake.
The onlookers watched as War Machine disappeared, their expressions held shock and sadness, seeing their hero defeated. Tyson let the illusion fade, the projection flickering out to reveal the true extent of the destruction. Silence settled over the crowd like a heavy blanket. But then, Mirage flicked his hand.
The destruction dissipated, and the mansion stood pristine, untouched, as though the furious battle had been nothing more than a dream... An illusion.
The crowd was still, their eyes searching for the truth. None were sure if the mansion had been destroyed or the battle was real.
A giant curtain stretched across the view, hiding the mansion. Words spun out, written in script, "Show's over folks." The classic tune from the end of a Looney Tunes cartoon filled the air, nostalgic and oddly fitting.
As the final note of the familiar music played, Mirage stepped out in front of the curtain.
A spotlight that originated from somewhere in the sky shown down on Mirage.
With a flourish, Mirage took a deep bow. The crowd erupted into applause. Some cheered, others laughed, delighting in the unexpected entertainment.
"I run shows regularly if you ever find yourself in New York," he announced, his voice carrying over the clapping crowd.
With a dramatic gesture, Mirage pulled the curtain back to reveal Tony Stark. He stepped forward, waving to the crowd with a showman's ease, his face wearing that famous, charming Tony Stark grin. "Thank you for attending my birthday party. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a suit to go reclaim and a house to clean," he said, his voice rich with the charisma that had charmed the world.
Laughter and chatter bubbled up from the crowd as they started to walk away, the night's drama taking on the feel of a grand adventure they could recount to friends for years to come. Amidst the dispersing crowd, Pepper Potts marched straight to Mirage and Tony, her face set in a look that meant business. "What was that?" she demanded, planting her hands on her hips, her tone sharp and accusing.
Without a word, Mirage beckoned her through the curtain. On the other side, the truth lay bare. The mansion was a wreck. Wires dangled, walls were scorched, and debris littered the once-immaculate floors.
Mirage spoke gently, a softness to his voice that hadn't been there during his performance. "I was just trying to help you with damage control and publicity," he explained, gesturing to the ruin around them.
Pepper's anger melted into sadness as she absorbed the reality of the situation. Her eyes took in the destruction, and she understood Mirage's ruse. It was all to keep the public unaware of the superhero chaos that had just ensued. The distant laughter of guests who had witnessed an 'unforgettable show' was fading, as they left, oblivious to the true spectacle that had occurred.
Iron Man once gleaming red and gold, was scorched and damaged. Tony's breaths were heavy. The mansion lay partially in ruins; the entry room was unrecognizable. Bits of the ceiling dangled precariously, and the walls bore scars from the eruption created when the repulsor beams had touched. Sparks from damaged wires flickered, and the smell of burnt electronics lingered in the air. Tony's eyes scanned the devastation, his face a mask of mixed emotions. The confrontation was over, but the fallout was beginning.
Outside each person left with their versions of the night's events. They walked away in groups, talking in hushed, excited tones about the shows Mirage put on, the story of Iron Man's origin, and the clash of Iron Man and the War Machine.
Behind the curtain, behind the illusionary facade, lay the truth.
Tony sat there, alone; his home and life wreckage.