Chapter 55

Arc 5 - Ch 8: The Stark Expo Incident

Date: Wednesday, June 1, 2011.

Location: Empire Suite, Four Seasons Downtown, Manhattan, NY

Natasha's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the soft light. The early morning sun crept through the curtains of the Empire Suite, bathing the bedroom in a warm glow. Beside her lay Tyson, his imposing frame relaxed against the plush pillows. His mismatched eyes were fixed on her, vibrant and piercing. The sunlight played across his rugged yet refined features, accentuating the muscular contours of his powerful body. They held each other's gaze for a quiet moment, a wordless exchange conveying a deep meaning. She took in his brown hair and chiseled jawline.

"Good morning," Natasha finally broke the silence, her voice hushed in the intimate space.

"Morning," Tyson replied.

Memories of their passionate encounter the previous night hung over them. Reaching out, Tyson gently brushed a few stray strands of hair from Natasha's face, his large hand delicate. His expression softened into something more vulnerable.

Feeling his bare fingers brush against his face, Natasha said playfully, "I get the feeling you're an illusion."

Tyson's lips curled subtly. "Must be those secret agent instincts." he retorted.

As Natasha lingered in the warm cocoon of the bed, Tyson mentioned, "I arranged breakfast." He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before vanishing from sight, leaving Natasha's eyes closed in contentment.

Natasha slipped from the luxurious bed, she let the silken sheets fall away as she moved. She donned one of the Four Seasons plush, complimentary robes before entering the suite's dining area, where an unexpected sight greeted her.

The real Tyson was already seated at the polished mahogany table, an elaborate breakfast spread laid out before him. The aromas wafting through the sunlit room tempted the senses. Platters of freshly baked pastries, flaky croissants, cheese danishes oozing with filling, and blueberry muffins, filled the air with their warm scent. A ceramic bowl brimmed with fresh, plump, juicy berries. Fluffy scrambled eggs emitting wisps of steam sat next to strips of crispy bacon and sausage links with crackling, golden-brown skin. The crowning indulgence was a tall stack of pancakes, their spongy rounds dripping with maple syrup and topped with melting pats of butter. To drink, there was freshly squeezed orange juice and a silver pot of coffee, its rich, earthy aroma rising in delicate tendrils.

Natasha took a seat. The sumptuous spread and, more importantly, Tyson's thoughtful gesture filled her with warmth that had little to do with the morning sun streaming through the windows.

Natasha and Tyson began filling their plates. He expressed his appreciation for the intimacy they had shared. "I had an incredible night with you," he said, his voice tinged with affection.

Natasha, usually so composed, found herself momentarily disarmed by his words. A blush of flattery colored her cheeks before subtle sadness shadowed her features.

The conversation between Tyson and Natasha naturally flowed into the dynamics of their relationship. Though Natasha maintained an air of professional detachment, a subtle warmth still lingered beneath the surface as she spoke. "I'm still your handler. We need to maintain professionalism in public," she reminded him firmly.

Tyson understood the reality of their situation, the need for discretion, and the fine line they walked between their romance and their duties.

"What about in private?" he asked tentatively.

"I enjoyed everything about our time together," Natasha admitted, her voice softening almost imperceptibly. "I'm open to future dates, so long as our lives allow it."

Tyson felt relief at her response. "At least you're open to the idea of a second date," he joked lightly before confessing, "I was concerned you were going to give me the 'it's not you, it's me' speech." His tone was gently teasing but hinted at his sincere apprehension.

"I thought about it," Natasha responded, her voice lilting with humor, "but I'm awesome, so it wouldn't be true." Her playful demeanor shifted as she revealed unexpected vulnerability. "I have my hang-ups. I don't trust easy, and while you're past that, I'm still worried about what you'll think when we touch."

Tyson noted her choice of words and pointed it out delicately. "You said 'when,' not 'if'," he emphasized, the subtle yet significant distinction.

Natasha's expression settled into a mix of acceptance and contemplation as she conceded Tyson's observation with a nod. It was a telling admission. The dynamic between them took a playful turn as she pointed an accusatory finger at Tyson. "Don't get any ideas about us being a couple," she ordered.

Tyson responded by dramatically clutching his chest as if shot. "Ouch. Rejected. I guess I'm doomed to be an eternal bachelor," he quipped, arranging his features into an exaggerated mask of resignation.

Natasha rolled her eyes at his theatrics. "You're doing pretty well for yourself," she reminded him. Then Natasha jokingly suggested, "You must have some potent pheromones. Maybe that's your secret weapon." Her voice rang rich with amusement.

Initially taking her joke in stride, Tyson paused as he considered the possibility more seriously. He thought he recalled Logan possessing enhanced pheromones somewhere in his metaknowledge. Since Tyson shared a similar powerset to Logan's, could he too wield such an unseen influence?

As he considered, Natasha's demeanor shifted, her tone taking on a business-like cadence as she outlined her plans for the day. Gone was the easy banter and intimacy of their earlier conversation. In its place was the cool efficiency of the consummate professional, focused on the tasks at hand.

Natasha explained that she had a meeting with Pepper and the Hammer Industries presentation that evening. Sensing her transition back into the spy role, Tyson asked with a hint of reluctance, "Do you have to get ready soon?" His simple question carried an unspoken wish to prolong their time together.

Natasha nodded, her response a mix of resignation and duty. "Yeah. I do."

In a last-ditch effort to recapture the lightness of earlier, Tyson quipped playfully, "Do you want to go another round or three first?" There was a glimmer of hope that she might delay her departure a little longer.

"Sorry, I'm out of condoms," Natasha replied deliberately casual.

Tyson shrugged, "Most people would be out of luck, worried about getting pregnant, but that's not a problem with illusions," he said lightly.

His offhand comment hit harder than he expected. Natasha's gaze grew distant, her expression turning sad, introspective. She walked over to the terrarium, seemingly lost in thought as she watched the spider within.

Tyson mentally kicked himself, realizing the unintended implication of his words. Though he hadn't meant to evoke such a reaction, the subtle shift in Natasha's mood was unmistakable. As she stood silently by the terrarium, Tyson wondered if she would open up and share the emotions his thoughtless words had stirred. He hoped she would trust him enough to voice the memories his remark had awakened. Tyson stood nearby in silent companionship, conveying his support should she wish to unburden herself.

"The Red Room was never a choice," Natasha began after a long moment, her gaze growing distant as she summoned decades-old memories. "I was just a child when they came for me, scarcely old enough to retain more than fragmented memories of the life I left behind." Her voice held a bitter edge as she described a stolen childhood. "The Red Room recruits were plucked from families across Russia, our pasts methodically erased and our fates decided for us."

"We were taken to hidden facilities where our training began. The Red Room valued unthinking loyalty and obedience without question. We were taught to fight, deceive, and kill if commanded." Natasha's account painted a chilling picture of innocence corrupted by forces beyond any child's control. Regret and anger resonated in her tone. "They stripped us of our identities, shaping us into tools instead of people. We had no choices, no futures except what the Red Room decreed for us."

Turning to meet Tyson's sympathetic gaze, Natasha's eyes brimmed with emotion. "The Red Room was more than a training ground for spies and assassins," she continued, steeling herself before delving into deeply personal territory. "They sought to control us so completely that we could never live normal lives, never pose a threat or become compromised. So they made certain we could never have children."

Her bleak admission hung in the air between them. Tyson listened with compassion, making no move to interrupt or interject. Natasha's revelations provided a glimpse into her painful and traumatic past, illuminating the sacrifices and violations inflicted upon her. It was a profound moment of vulnerability and trust, as she shared truths with Tyson known to few others.

Natasha's voice tinged with melancholy as she continued. "It was a way to control us, to keep us focused solely on our missions with no attachments or distractions. But in taking away that choice, they also stripped away a piece of our humanity, a basic right that most people take for granted." Though Natasha kept her composure, the pain in her words was palpable

As Natasha finished, a solemn silence descended upon the room. This was a moment of vulnerability for her.

Tyson was moved that she shared these private pains. "I'm sorry that happened to you. But I want to make sure you know that not being able to have children doesn't make you any less human, any less of a woman, or any less valuable," Tyson finally responded, his voice gentle yet firm with conviction. "It's not talked about openly much, but many women face difficulties conceiving or experience miscarriages. I'm so sorry that your choice was taken from you, and for what was done."

Tyson moved closer, offering a comforting hug as he continued. "Natasha, none of that was your fault." His words were meant to reassure her of her humanity. As he embraced her, Tyson hoped his support could help shoulder the burden of her tragic past. Pulling back, Tyson met her eyes with compassion. "I don't want to give you false hope, but who knows what the future may hold," he said cautiously.

Natasha's reply was soft, her voice weighted by the deep wounds that her past had carved into her spirit. "I'm scarred for life," she said, the words a quiet reflection of the trauma that had been inflicted upon her.

Tyson met her gaze, his expression gentle. After a moment of contemplation, he began sharing, "You know I can kill people by touching them," he confessed solemnly. "A year ago, I was told by the world’s leading expert on mutants that I'd never be able to have physical contact with anyone for the rest of my life." He paused, taking a slow breath before continuing. "Two months later, I met a sorceress, and she gave me an amulet that allowed me to have sex."

Natasha's eyes widened in surprise at his unexpected words. She let out an incredulous snort and playfully slapped Tyson's chest, the tension of the moment broken. "That's not funny. I'm being serious," she chided, though a hint of amusement lurked beneath her stern tone.

Tyson's face set with sincerity. "Actually... so am I," he replied, "But if you didn't know magic was real, can we keep it between us for now?"

Natasha searched his eyes, wrestling with disbelief. "You're being serious?" she asked slowly.

Tyson gave a solemn nod, his expression leaving no room for doubt. "Sadly, yes. And who knows, a year from now, I might have complete control over my powers." He let out a contemplative breath. "This world is quickly becoming unbelievable. I can heal from nearly any wound. What's to say that one day, you won't be able to too?" Though fantastic, his words resonated with possibility and hope.

Natasha took a moment to absorb his words, weighing the enormity of the possibilities they evoked. Then her facade cracked. "Your life is so weird," she remarked, amusement and admiration for their bizarre reality coloring her tone. "And that means something coming from me."

Tyson chuckled lightly in response, the mood between them lifting. "Yup. It's pretty cool though," he agreed good-naturedly.

Natasha and Tyson held each other in a comforting embrace. Eventually, her gaze drifted to the terrarium, her curiosity sparking once more. "I'm confused. Why exactly do you only have a single, small spider contained in there?" she asked.

Tyson hesitated, conflicted, but eventually decided to share another of his secrets with her. Recalling a previous conversation of theirs, he asked, "Do you remember when I asked if you would take the Super Soldier Serum if I had access to it?"

Natasha nodded, the memory coming back to her. "Yes, I remember. I declined because I was concerned about how it might affect me," she replied somberly, her worries about the potential consequences of such power still present.

Tyson gestured toward the terrarium containing the solitary spider. "That," he said, his voice lowered conspiratorially, "is far better than any super soldier serum."

Natasha's gaze snapped back to study the spider intently, noticing for the first time its unique coloration. Vivid splashes of red and blue called to mind the iconic costume of Spider-Man himself.

The realization struck her like a thunderbolt, causing her to inhale sharply. She was overwhelmed by the implications. "How does it work?" she managed to ask in a whisper, trying to wrap her head around the enormity of the revelation.

His explanation was straightforward yet left her with more questions than answers. "You get bit, you get sick, you get powers. Pretty straightforward," he said casually. But to Natasha, none of this felt simple in the least.

Natasha knew there had to be risks or unforeseen consequences. Her training had always emphasized precision, control, and reliance on her skills and instincts.

Was Tyson making an offer by disclosing the small creature's capability? Her mind raced through various scenarios, trying to comprehend what it would mean to have spider-like powers. Would they enhance her natural abilities or throw off the delicate balance she had cultivated over years of intense training? There was a part of her that was tempted, that wondered what it would be like to push past human limitations, to reach new heights of capability on her missions. The spider held the potential to alter the course of her life in ways she couldn't yet grasp. Was she ready to take that leap?

Natasha's internal deliberations were interrupted by Tyson's unexpected question. "Do you want children one day?"

She was caught off guard, the question striking a deep chord and reminding her of choices that had been taken away in her past. Her surprise must have been evident because Tyson quickly clarified, "The reason I ask is because the powers from the spider are remarkable, but I don't know if they will help you heal. When Spider-Man was bitten, his vision went from poor to beyond perfect overnight, it's the best example I can give. He didn't have any significant medical issues comparable to your situation. So it's not likely that you'll be healed, though also not beyond possibility." His words were gentle, providing context without overstepping.

Natasha paused, considering his point. While the prospect of new abilities was enticing, would they truly address the deeper issues she still grappled with from her past? She appreciated Tyson's insight and empathy. This was not a decision to make lightly, either for the sake of power or from a misplaced hope that it would somehow fix the unresolved wounds within her. Natasha took a slow breath, gazing at the spider once more as she carefully weighed her response.

Tyson's gaze softened as he whispered, "I'm here to support you regardless of what you decide." It was a simple statement, but the unconditional nature of his support was clear.

Natasha's eyes lingered on Tyson's face as she processed the gravity of the choice. This was not merely about gaining new abilities from the spider's venomous bite. Tyson's earlier question about children had forced her to consider the broader implications of accepting or rejecting the offer. This decision would shape far more than her physical powers. It would influence the very course of her future and the identity she wished to build for herself.

Throughout the turmoil of indecision, Tyson's steady presence remained a fixed point in her thoughts. His support was unwavering, yet the choice remained hers alone to make. She stood at a crossroads, fully aware that her decision here would have cascading effects on her abilities, her relationships, and her sense of self.

Natasha's gaze shifted back to the spider, then returned to meet Tyson's patient eyes. After years of having choices made for her, the freedom to make this monumental decision herself was both liberating and daunting. That Tyson respected her autonomy and would stand firmly beside her, no matter what she chose, was proof of the bond forming between them.

— Rogue Replacement —

Tyson slid his motorcycle to a stop as the buzz of his phone cut through the background noise of the Stark Expo. He fished the phone from his pocket and answered.

The familiar voice of Tony Stark came through, casual yet tinged with urgency. "Hey, Houdini. I'm gonna be in your city soon. You busy?"

Tyson couldn't help but smirk at the nickname. "Funny, I just rolled up to your little science fair," he replied lightly.

Tony wasted no time. "Perfect. Here's the sitch," he began, a weight of concern in his voice. "Remember Anton Vanko? The guy with the electric whips who came after me? It was all over the news. Turns out he's not out of the game. He's still kicking and he's got a vendetta."

Tony's tone shifted, all business now. "Vanko's not just a thug in a suit. He's smart, resourceful. And he's holding one hell of a grudge. I don't wanna underestimate him. I'm betting he'll make a move at the Expo. It's too big a stage to resist. A perfect chance to make a statement. And like the last time, it won't be subtle."

The picture became clearer for Tyson with Tony's words. He knew Nat was attending Hammer's presentation at the Expo, which was why he'd come. Tony just confirmed his suspicions about what was going down.

"We gotta be ready, Mirage. Keep your eyes peeled and stay sharp."

Tyson responded, "I'll be ready. And I'll call in backup. See you soon."

As the call with Tony Stark came to an end, Tyson swiftly dialed another number, calling for the reinforcements he had in mind. The phone rang briefly before Peter Parker's cheerful voice answered.

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"Hey Pete, are you busy?" Tyson inquired without preamble, getting straight to the point.

Peter's response was prompt, tinged with curiosity. "Not really, what's up?" he replied, his tone casual and relaxed.

Tyson did not mince words or waste any time. "There's another situation developing at the Stark Expo. Come casual, but bring your suit. We could really use your help. And you'll probably get to meet Iron Man," he explained.

At the prospect of meeting Iron Man, Peter's voice swelled with excitement and eager anticipation. "Really? I get to meet Iron Man?" he exclaimed, unable to conceal the enthusiasm in his voice. "Man, this is incredible! I mean, I've always looked up to Tony Stark. He's a genius, his tech... it's just amazing," Peter continued, his admiration for Tony Stark evident in every earnest word he uttered. "I've been following his work and career for as long as I can remember. The chance to meet him in person, to see Iron Man in action..." His voice trailed off, infected with infectious enthusiasm. "I'm on my way!"

As Tyson navigated his way through the sprawling Stark Expo, the spectacular extravaganza of innovation and technology unfolded around him. The expo was a dazzling array of the latest advancements in various scientific fields. Futuristic renewable energy solutions and groundbreaking medical technologies stood alongside cutting-edge defense systems and prototypes of revolutionary transportation models. Attendees marveled wide-eyed at exhibits that seemed to tug the future into the present. Screens displayed videos of technological marvels, while interactive booths beckoned visitors to experience these innovations firsthand. The atmosphere was electric, a melting pot of ideas and creativity, showcasing the best and brightest minds in science, engineering, and innovation.

Tyson navigated through the dense crowd, heading in the direction of the main pavilion where Hammer Industries was scheduled to present its latest innovations. The pavilion was an impressive sight; a massive domed structure adorned with an enormous Hammer Industries logo.

Using his abilities, Tyson discreetly bypassed the various security checkpoints surrounding the pavilion, the guards failing to notice his presence as he blended into the surroundings. He ensured that he remained undetected amidst the distraction and excitement that permeated the atmosphere of the expo.

In contrast to the energetic hubbub outside, the backstage area Tyson entered was far more secluded and carefully guarded, reserved only for VIP guests and key industry figures. Tyson's eyes methodically scanned the area, searching for any sign of Justin Hammer himself but finding nothing. He contemplated his next move, weighing his options when a sudden commotion at the entrance heralded the arrival of Hammer's entourage.

Moments later, Justin Hammer himself strode into view, surrounded by assistants and security personnel. He moved with a confident, attention-grabbing swagger that was unmistakably his. "Make sure everything is perfect, people. It's Hammer Time!" he announced.

Impeccably dressed in an expensive tailored suit, Hammer exuded an air of success and self-assurance, greeting guests with his trademark charm and charisma as he navigated through the room. "Remember, we're not just selling technology here," he remarked to one of his associates, "we're selling the future!" His tone was energetic and optimistic, ready to wow the crowds and promote his vision.

Tyson was still shrouded beneath his illusory disguise as he made his way toward Justin Hammer's private staging room. As the CEO reached for the door handle, Tyson closed the distance between them. His hand darted out and made brief contact with the back of Hammer's neck before retreating.

Hammer let out a startled yelp, his hand flying up to smack at the sudden pain. His usual mask of cool confidence slipped for a moment.

He watched a wasp tumble to the floor, wings still twitching feebly.

Crying out dramatically, he began swatting at his neck, face contorting in an exaggerated mask of shock and annoyance.

"Of all the blasted things! A bee?" he exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of his entourage. "Get me some ice, now! And find out where that devilish thing came from. There better not be a whole nest of the monsters lurking around here!" Hammer ordered irritated. His associates scrambled to fulfill his demands, some struggling to contain their amusement at this unexpected turn of events.

"I can't believe it, stung by a bee at my own event! This is supposed to be a high-tech expo, not some backwoods nature park!" He continued ranting, gesticulating wildly as if performing for an invisible audience.

In the brief moment, Tyson's life-draining touch connected with Hammer's neck, a rush of memories and moments from the CEO's life flashed through his mind. Tyson experienced these memories in a dizzying cascade as if he were living Hammer's entire life in mere seconds.

He was a child, fascinated by machines and gadgets. His parents were wealthy and distant, often leaving him to his own devices. He was always tinkering, taking things apart to see how they worked. His drive led him to create Hammer Industries, his technological empire. His early successes encouraged him to push boundaries, sometimes recklessly, driven by a need to be acknowledged as a genius in his field. But Stark always overshadowed him, a constant reminder of what he had yet to achieve. He became determined to prove he was more than a second-rate Tony Stark. He made alliances, sometimes with questionable individuals, to outdo Stark. His obsession grew, clouding his judgment, and leading him down paths he hadn't intended to tread. The contracts, the deals; they were all part of a grand plan to cement his legacy. He felt outmaneuvered by Stark, whose charisma and genius were always one step ahead. His attempts to best him often backfired, leaving him more determined but increasingly desperate. He was a man driven by ambition, shaped by rivalry, and haunted by the shadow of Tony Stark. But now he had a chance to step out of the shadow and into the spotlight, with Vanko working behind the scenes and Stark’s tech under his control.

Tyson's brief glimpse into Justin Hammer's memories granted profound insight into the man's inner world. Where once, Tyson had dismissed Hammer as nothing more than a second-rate knockoff of Tony Stark, he now saw a driven and ambitious, if flawed, individual.

Though ambition and rivalry had led Hammer down questionable paths, Tyson realized that at his core, Hammer was a man seeking recognition and fighting to emerge from the overwhelming shadow cast by Stark's genius. Tyson saw how Hammer's obsession with surpassing his rival had steadily consumed him over the years, clouding his judgment and spurring increasingly desperate and ill-advised gambits. The backroom deals, like the one he'd made with Ivan Vanko, were all part of Hammer's relentless crusade to cement his legacy beyond just imitating Stark.

As Tyson subtly disengaged, leaving behind an illusory bee to occupy Hammer's team, he mulled over the revelations from Hammer's memories. He recalled the constant pressure Hammer felt to measure up to Stark in the public eye, how Hammer's ingenious attempts to outmaneuver his rival often backfired spectacularly. Yet Tyson also glimpsed Hammer's charisma and determination, the sheer force of will that had built Hammer Industries from nothing into a multi-billion dollar player in the tech sector. However much he imitated Stark, Hammer was undeniably brilliant in his own right. Tyson felt a twinge of admiration for the man who, despite lacking Stark's advantages, had still carved out an empire through tenacity and grit. Hammer might never escape Stark's shadow, but he had proven himself exceptionally capable nonetheless.

As Hammer's team scrambled about searching for the imaginary beehive, Tyson sifted through the flood of memories, seeking anything that might reveal Hammer's base of operations or clues about Vanko. Though he didn't intend to change much in the upcoming event, Tyson felt better equipped to face what was coming.

— Rogue Replacement —

The energy in the Stark Expo surged to new heights as an announcement echoed through the massive venue's sound system. "Ladies and gentlemen, please make your way to the main pavilion for Justin Hammer's presentation, beginning shortly."

Amongst the sea of attendees were Tyson and Peter Parker, who had secured prime VIP seating near the stage thanks to Tyson's skillful illusions.

It wasn't long before Natasha noticed Tyson, seated just a few rows ahead. Her sharp eyes quickly spotted him amidst the crowd. She slipped her cell phone from her pocket and rapidly typed a text.

'What are you doing here?'

Tyson typed back a succinct yet informative response.

'Stark on the way. Vanko alive. Expecting trouble.'

His summary made Natasha aware of the looming danger over the Expo while providing key details.

The atmosphere in the pavilion shifted as dramatic, upbeat music began playing through the sound system, signaling the start of Hammer's presentation. The lights dimmed, focusing all eyes forward towards the stage.

Centered within the expansive pavilion was an elaborate high-tech stage, featuring a massive LED screen as a backdrop displaying slick, dynamic graphics. State-of-the-art lighting cut brilliant beams through the atmosphere, an ambient glow surrounding the stage. As the crowd's eager anticipation peaked, Justin Hammer made his entrance.

With a dramatic flair that was uniquely his, Justin Hammer danced onto the stage as upbeat, catchy music fueled his energetic movements. He glided across the platform, displaying confidence and showmanship in his dance routine. Hammer grabbed the microphone with a charismatic smile, finishing his lively performance as the music faded. In contrast to Tony Stark's entrance days earlier, the crowd's reaction was subdued.

"Yeah. That's what I'm talking about. Thanks for coming," Hammer began, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. The audience responded with scattered, polite applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for far too long, this country has had to place its brave men and women in harm's way," he continued, his tone shifting to one of solemn conviction. "But then the Iron Man arrived, and we thought the days of losing lives were behind us." He paused briefly, allowing the weight of his words to permeate the air.

"Sadly, that technology was kept out of reach. That's not fair. That's not right. And it's just too bad." Hammer's words were pointed, a direct critique of Tony Stark's decision to monopolize the Iron Man technology.

A few rows away, Tyson heard Pepper Potts' disbelief and exasperation as she uttered under her breath, "Oh, Lord."

On stage, Hammer continued his dramatic speech, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent of skepticism spreading through the audience. "Regardless, the Iron Man technology was an impressive innovation. One that grabbed headlines around the world. Well, today, my friends, the press will face a difficult problem. They are about to run out of ink." he declared, in a provocative theatrical tone.

As he spoke, two assistants hurried onto the stage to remove the podium.

"Yea. Get that out of here." Hammer impatiently commanded. The billionaire's offhand remark meant to be heard only by the assistants, was inadvertently broadcast to the entire room by his still-live microphone. Undeterred by the minor mishap, Hammer pressed on eagerly with his grand announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, today I present to you the new face of the United States military… The Hammer drone!"

With his bold declaration, the floor of the stage began to shift and separate mechanically, revealing rows of hidden compartments from which the drones started to rise dramatically. The first group was announced with a commanding "Army!" as they emerged atop a rising platform. The drones were painted in earthy blends of greens, browns, and blacks, camouflage patterns mimicking those used in the army's rugged field gear.

The crowd was captivated by this impressive display. With each subsequent announcement, the stage continued to transform further, the floor opening to reveal more of Hammer's arsenal.

The commanding shout of "Navy!" heralded the emergence of the next group from within the rising platform. Dark blues and grays adorned the paint that coated each sleek new form, echoing the hues of naval uniforms. The drones' hydrodynamic lines and specialized equipment evoked a sense of undersea operations. Glossy finishes reflected the bright lights in rippling waves as if the stage had become the ocean.

When the call for "Air Force!" rang out, new drones ascended with bodies honed for unmatched maneuverability amongst the clouds. Painted sky blue and cloud, with additional repulsors implying tremendous speed and increased maneuverability in the skies.

The final announcement of "Marines!" brought forth rugged drones adorned in forest and digital camo patterns befitting the Corps' versatile operational environments. Robust frames and heavy armor plating spoke of resilience and frontline positioning. The visible weapon systems looked formidable.

Hammer's excitement escaped in an enthusiastic shout, "Yeah! Yeah! Woo! That’s a hell of a lot better than some cheerleaders, let me tell you!" The pride and competitiveness were palpable, emphasizing his eagerness to outperform his rival Tony Stark's flashy presentation.

Justin Hammer's presentation took a dramatic turn as he continued, his voice swelling with pride, "But as revolutionary as this technology is, there will always be a need for man to be present in the theatre of war." He paused, letting the moment build. "Ladies and gentlemen, today I am proud to present to you the very first prototype in the Variable Threat Response Battle Suit and its pilot, Air Force Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes." Hammer's announcement rang out across the crowded pavilion.

In the audience, Pepper Potts' clear voice cut through the excited murmur of the crowd. "What?!" she exclaimed in surprise and disbelief. The revelation that Rhodes, a trusted ally and friend, was involved with Hammer Industries was entirely unexpected.

With a mechanical whir, a platform in the center of the stage began to rise, revealing the imposing armored form of the War Machine suit. The armor was gunmetal gray, with subtle hints of silver and black that lent it a dangerous edge. An array of deadly armaments bristled across its surface. Shoulder-mounted rocket launchers, wrist-mounted guns, and a mini-gun protruded menacingly over its right shoulder.

The platform settled onto the stage with a solid thunk, Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes stood tall and commanding. He raised one gauntleted hand in a crisp salute. In perfect synchronization, the rows of Hammer drones around the stage responded, their arms snapping up in echoing salutes. War Machine flanked by the ranks of drones behind him created a powerful image.

Justin Hammer's voice rang out across the silent pavilion, grandiose and swelling with pride. "For America and its allies, Hammer Industries is reporting for..." His words were abruptly cut off by a distant yet unmistakable sonic boom, drawing the startled attention of everyone gathered under the pavilion. All eyes turned upward, searching for the source of the unexpected sound.

The crowd's attention was abruptly drawn skyward by the unmistakable sonic boom reverberating through the air. All eyes searched for the source of the unexpected disruption. Their curiosity was soon satisfied as the gleaming red and gold form of Iron Man descended from on high. With a burst of his repulsor jets, the sophisticated suit glided downward, landing next to Rhodes with a dramatic flair that only Tony Stark could manage.

The assembled masses erupted into raucous cheers and applause at Iron Man's surprise appearance, the excitement swelling to a fever pitch. Stark waved to the adoring fans. Amidst the crowd, Tyson leaned close to Peter Parker, seizing the moment to confer privately. "Do you have your suit on?" he asked, eyes darting about to ensure their conversation went unnoticed.

Peter gave a subtle nod in reply. "Under my clothes," he confirmed softly.

"Get your mask ready. I have a feeling we're going to need to evacuate civilians," Tyson advised. He discreetly palmed his own Mirage mask, prepared to don it at a moment's notice.

The atmosphere in the pavilion took on an ominous charge as Warmachine and the array of Hammer drones abruptly swiveled in unison, their weapons locking onto the hovering form of Iron Man.

Stark hovered, assessing the multitude of armaments aimed in his direction.

Tyson pulled on his Mirage mask as Peter followed suit, the fabric of the Spider-Man mask concealing his features. Tyson pointed upwards urgently. "The ceiling is glass. Can you quickly spin some web nets? If they open fire, it'll rain shards down on the crowd."

Stark fired his repulsor jets and rocketed upwards through the dome attempting to evade the impending onslaught. No sooner had he cleared the ceiling than it shattered in a hail of bullets from the drones below. War Machine and the other aerial drones blasted through the ragged hole in hot pursuit, unleashing relentless weapons fire at the fleeing Iron Man.

Spider-Man sprang into action. He unleashed streams of webbing towards the shattered ceiling. Strand after silvery strand shot forth, crisscrossing and interweaving. In mere moments, he had created a vast, intricate web pattern above the crowd, a makeshift net designed to catch the largest, most dangerous pieces of falling glass.

The pavilion erupted into pandemonium as the crowd realized the mortal danger raining down from above. Fear transformed the atmosphere of celebration into one of barely controlled panic. People scrambled for safety, their excitement turning to naked terror at the deafening sound of gunfire and the sight of the pursuing drones.

Spider-Man and Tyson wordlessly fell into a well-practiced rhythm. Spider-Man continued to reinforce and expand the webbing above, ensuring its stability against the unrelenting shower of debris.

As screaming civilians stampeded for the exits, Tyson acted decisively to prevent disaster. Recognizing the risk of people being trampled in their panicked flight, he swiftly conjured a series of illusionary Iron Man suits with his unique psionic abilities. The illusions were indistinguishable from the real thing, and therefore ideal for crowd control against the oblivious Hammer drones.

Sprinkled strategically throughout the fleeing mob, the Iron Men began directing the evacuation with an aura of authority. "Please remain calm and quickly proceed to the exits," the illusions instructed in cool, synthesized tones, their movements precise and coordinated.

Utilizing his illusion powers further, Tyson projected his voice directly to Peter, who was busy reinforcing the protective webbing above. "Focus on keeping civilians safe, I’ll handle the drones," Tyson communicated, his telepathic voice clear in Peter's mind despite the chaos around them.

With Peter dedicated to safeguarding the crowd from above, the real Tyson turned his attention to the more immediate threat, the Hammer drones. Charging towards the nearest group of 'army' drones, he unleashed the full extent of his capabilities. His adamantium claws, sharp and indestructible, extended from his fingertips with a distinct metallic sound. Tyson moved with feline precision and agility, slicing through the drones with his claws. The metallic bodies of the machines were no match for the unparalleled strength and razor-sharpness of adamantium. Each swipe and thrust of his claws tore through the drones, disabling them one by one until they lay in crumpled piles of sparking metal and frayed wires.

Outside the main pavilion, amidst the chaos and commotion, stood a young boy, around 8 or 9 years old, with warm brown skin and dark wooly hair. He was decked out in an Iron Man costume, complete with a plastic mask and fake repulsor gloves, the small lights in their centers glowing. The boy caught up in the moment, raised his hand at a Hammer drone that had exited the pavilion, playfully mimicking an attack with his mock repulsor.

However, the situation quickly turned serious when the drone, programmed to target Iron Man, looked down at the boy and identified him as a threat. Its weapons began to lock onto the young, unsuspecting fan, a dangerous misunderstanding by its targeting system. The boy was oblivious to the peril he was now in as the drone's guns hummed to life and took aim.

But before it could unleash its deadly payload, a red and blue blur swung into view. Spider-Man delivered a powerful kick to the side of the drone, knocking it off course and sending the metallic menace crashing to the ground with a resounding clang.

Mirage rushed up and dove onto the downed drone, his adamantium claws making short work of its armor plating. Sparks flew as he tore through circuitry, neutralizing the threat.

With danger averted, Spider-Man turned to the wide-eyed boy, offering a friendly reassurance. "Good work, buddy. Let's help you find your dad." Though his tone was light, it contrasted the situation they had narrowly avoided.

At that moment, a man in a police uniform came rushing up, relief and gratitude etched on his face. "Thank you for saving my boy, Spider-Man," the officer said, his voice thick with emotion.

Spider-Man gave a casual thumbs-up in reply. "No problem, Officer... Morales," he said, reading the nametag. Tyson's head snapped up at Peter's words. With Mirage there, Spider-Man swung away to ensure the safety of others evacuating the expo.

Tyson zeroed in on the officer and boy. Morales? That couldn't be just a coincidence. He studied the young boy's face intently, recognizing the familiar features.

Miles Morales.

Unless he was mistaken, this young boy was destined to take up the Spider-Man mantle in another world, and perhaps this one as well. Tyson noted that he would need to follow up and check in on the boy.

Mirage raised his hands, crafting an illusion to further assist the officer and his son. A duplicate of Mirage appeared, gesturing for the two to follow. "This way," it instructed, guiding them away from the danger zone and toward safety.

Mirage ran up to Natasha Romanoff's side. She did not hesitate, immediately demanding, "Situation?"

He quickly relayed the critical information. "Vanko's alive. He's been building the Hammer drones and has hacked into Rhodes's armor. He's controlling it remotely from the Hammer Industries facility here in Queens."

Natasha absorbed the update swiftly, her mind already strategizing her next move. "How are you sure?"

"I touched Justin Hammer briefly, gained his memories." Tyson explained, then asked, "What do you need?"

"My uniform from the car and a ride to Hammer's facility," Natasha replied succinctly, her tone focused and decisive.

In response, Tyson scooped her up without preamble and sprinted towards the Stark corporate car parked nearby. With a single, powerful punch, he shattered the driver's side window, reached in, and retrieved Natasha's slim suitcase containing her SHIELD uniform.

"Feel free to change here. My illusions will keep you covered unless there are cameras around," he said, tossing her the keys to his motorcycle as he set her down.

Natasha wasted no time. She popped open the suitcase, gathering her uniform.

Natasha regarded Tyson carefully as she began to strip off her civilian clothes, noting the trickle of blood dripping from his nose. "Your nose is bleeding," she commented dryly. "This isn't the time for you to be joking around with your anime illusion fetish."

Tyson wiped at his nose absently, a troubled expression crossing his face. His reaction gave Natasha pause. "I'm running a dozen separate deep illusions on people so I can see what's happening across the expo through their eyes," Tyson explained, his voice strained. "I'm trying to figure out where I'm needed most."

As he spoke, Tyson staggered slightly, reaching out a hand to steady himself against the car. Natasha's eyes narrowed. "Drop half of those connections. Now!" she ordered sharply.

Obediently, Tyson closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them again, he stood up straighter, the strain in his face easing as he looked more like his usual self.

Natasha nodded curtly. "I believe you finally touched your limits," she said. "Don't do that again. Understood?"

He agreed and she tossed him an earpiece, then continued stripping. She noticed Tyson's gaze lingering as she changed but continued undisturbed by his attention. "Shouldn't you be out there saving people?" she asked.

Tyson, maintaining his characteristic cheekiness even amidst the tense situation, retorted, "Oh, the real me left right after you tossed the earpiece over. I'm just an illusion. It was worth dropping one of the other illusions to see this. Plus, watching the femme fatale suit up is always the best part of the movie. You can't blame me. You're like a real-life Bond girl. No, even better, you're like James Bond, but if he was a sexy badass." Tyson gasped, "Oh my god. Is this what women feel like watching James Bond movies?"

Natasha rolled her eyes at the comment as she finished slipping into her uniform, unphased by his flirtatious banter. It was a brief moment of levity amidst the urgency and danger surrounding them. Now fully suited, Natasha mounted Tyson's motorcycle and raced off toward the Hammer facility.