Blaine had just left when Pepper arrived.
Tony stayed in the hospital with Pepper, by Happy's side all night.
By the time he knew that Happy's condition had fully stabilized, it was already the next morning.
"Tony, you should go back and get some rest."
Pepper was worried about his health.
She had come in the middle of the night, so she wasn't exhausted yet. But Tony had been there the entire time, and he had recently been suffering from severe anxiety.
If this went on, his body would eventually collapse.
"Okay."
Tony nodded, looking drained.
Fortunately, Blaine had stabilized Happy's situation. Otherwise, Tony would have stayed indefinitely.
He stood up and exhaled. "Pepper, please."
"Happy is our mutual friend."
Pepper also stood, walked Tony out of the ward, and kissed his chin. "Go home and sleep."
Tony nodded. Looking at the woman he loved eased his mind a little.
Of course, that good mood didn't last long.
As soon as he walked out of the hospital, a swarm of reporters—like flies drawn to a carcass—rushed him.
In an instant, journalists from dozens of well-known newspapers and TV stations surrounded Tony, shoving microphones at him and shouting questions.
"We're waiting for Tony Stark to respond himself!"
"Mr. Stark, sources tell us this was another terrorist attack by the Mandarin. What's your reaction?"
Cameras and microphones pressed close, almost into his face.
At first, Tony planned to ignore them and get straight into his car. But just as he was about to, a voice cut through the chaos.
"Mr. Stark, when are you going to kill this bastard?"
It came from a middle-aged, blond Caucasian man holding up a phone, eyebrow raised provocatively. "Can we talk?"
Tony froze mid-step.
Suddenly, the noise around him died. The only sound left was the clicking of cameras.
Tony glared at the man, anger simmering beneath the surface. "You want to know?"
"I have a holiday greeting for the Mandarin."
"I just figured out what to say."
"My name is Tony, and I'm not afraid of you."
"You're a coward, and I've got something for you."
Tony removed his sunglasses and stared straight into the phone. "You're dead. I'm going to kill you myself."
"This isn't politics—it's just good old-fashioned revenge. No Pentagon, just you and me."
"If you're really a man, here's my address: 10880 Malibu Point, ZIP code 90265. I'll leave the door open."
Finishing in one breath, Tony snatched the phone from the man's hand. "Satisfied?"
Without hesitation, he smashed it to the ground. "Sue me."
Then he climbed into his car.
Inside, Tony exhaled heavily.
Saying those words could bring massive consequences—terrorist retaliation, even worse attacks. But it also gave him something he desperately needed.
It gave him relief.
Back home, he tried to rest for a while before Pepper returned.
But instead of sleeping, Tony immediately asked J.A.R.V.I.S. to gather everything on the Mandarin.
He instructed him to cross-reference all locations where the temperature had spiked above 3,000 degrees Celsius and rule out confirmed Mandarin-related incidents.
Eventually, Tony focused on a site of a suicide bombing.
Rose Hill, Tennessee.
"Beep…"
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
"Who's knocking? Didn't I say we're on high alert?"
Tony slapped the table in frustration. "Great. I just threatened a terrorist, and now someone's at my door?"
"I can't help it, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied. "You did announce your address to the world's media."
Tony reluctantly went to see who it was.
With the Mark 42 and the villa's defense system primed, he was prepared to attack any intruder.
Instead, he found someone unexpected: a woman he had met in 1999—Maya Hansen, the botanist.
Tony assumed she had come to rekindle their brief fling, which left him a little embarrassed.
The situation grew even more awkward when Pepper walked in.
But Pepper wasn't shocked. She knew Tony's past better than anyone—his flings, his reputation, his one-night stands. She'd been his friend long before she became his partner. She had braced herself to run into women like Maya.
Even so, she argued with Tony and suggested leaving the villa.
But Tony refused. His armors were there, and nowhere else could he be better protected.
Then Maya noticed the television.
The broadcast had been hijacked again.
Onscreen was live surveillance—an aerial view of Tony's villa, detailed from top to bottom.
"Stop fighting. Look at this."
Maya pointed to the screen nervously.
"What?"
Both Tony and Pepper turned.
At that very moment, a missile streaked toward the living room, exhaust trail blazing.
"Whoosh—"
Instinctively, Tony shoved Pepper and Maya out the window.
The roar of the missile filled his ears as it closed in.
It was already too late to run.
Tony's stomach dropped.
That morning he had publicly threatened a terrorist… and now, only hours later, his home was about to be blown apart.
Iron Man, caught off guard.
*************************************
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