Monaco's air was thick—salt from the sea, burnt rubber from screaming tires, and the unmistakable scent of obscene wealth.
Engines howled down the sun-scorched track.
The Monaco Grand Prix—playground of the elite.
Levi sat in the highest-tier VIP suite, overlooking the circuit. Dressed in a casual suit under the identity of Anthony Chen, Stark Industries' second-largest shareholder, he swirled a glass of champagne.
He wasn't here for racing.
He was here to collect sothing.
Across the suite, Pepper Potts was on edge.
"Tony, you can't do this!" she snapped as Tony zipped up a fireproof racing suit. "This is dangerous!"
"It's my team. My car," Tony replied breezily. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Pepper stared at him in disbelief.
"You're the CEO!"
Tony winked. "And an excellent driver."
Happy Hogan looked spiritually exhausted. He checked a helt in resigned silence.
Levi observed calmly.
Tony Stark thrived under spotlights. Adrenaline was oxygen to him.
"Let him go, Miss Potts," Levi said evenly. "You won't change his mind."
Pepper sighed. She knew he was right.
Monts later, engines roared.
The race began.
Cars launched forward like bullets.
Tony started slightly behind—but quickly pushed to fifth with aggressive precision.
Levi leaned back, senses expanding invisibly across the circuit.
He didn't locate the target in the stands.
Not in the pit lanes.
"So. Direct entrance," he thought.
Lap three.
A man in an orange maintenance uniform stepped casually onto the track.
Spectators gasped.
"What is he doing?!" comntators shouted.
Levi's gaze sharpened.
Ivan Vanko.
Ivan removed the orange jacket.
Beneath it—crude chanical exoskeleton. A circular arc reactor glowed blue in his chest.
He gripped two tal handles.
Activated.
"ZZZAAAK—!"
Two blazing plasma whips extended outward, crackling violently.
He swung.
A Formula 1 car scread past—
And was sliced clean in half.
tal glowed molten red before exploding into fla.
The track beca hell.
Panic erupted.
Pepper scread in the suite.
Levi, however, finally smiled.
Interesting.
System interface activated in his mind.
---
Target Locked: Ivan Vanko
Detected Ability: B-Grade Plasma Energy Confinent & Shaping (Crude Version)
Copy?
---
"Crude," Levi murmured.
But useful.
Mid-range flexible energy shaping wasn't part of his usual arsenal.
"Copy."
---
Copying…
Template Reconstruction Complete.
Ability Acquired: Plasma Energy Confinent & Shaping (B-Grade)
---
Data flooded his mind—
Magnetic field stabilization.
Energy channel modulation.
Containnt frequency control.
Primitive engineering—but adaptable.
With space-curvature refinent?
Energy leakage could drop near zero.
With cosmic energy infusion?
Weaponized constructs of far greater density.
Promising.
Down below, Ivan advanced toward Tony's wrecked car.
Pepper and Happy charged onto the track in a Rolls-Royce, slamming into Ivan and knocking him aside.
The suitcase was thrown.
Tony slamd his foot down and pulled.
The case unfolded in a chanical cascade.
Seven seconds.
Mark V.
Sleek red-and-silver armor locked into place.
Ivan lashed out.
Tony blocked—sparks flying as plasma struck alloy.
"Nice toy," Tony quipped. "But your reactor's outdated."
He grabbed the whip and yanked.
Ivan stumbled.
Tony closed distance and ripped the arc reactor straight from Ivan's chest assembly.
Energy died instantly.
Police sward.
As he was pinned down, Ivan muttered in Russian:
"I have not lost."
Tony didn't understand.
But Levi did.
From the VIP suite, he drained the last of his champagne.
Ivan would be imprisoned.
Justin Hamr would make a visit.
And the next act—
Would be far louder.
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