Chapter 14: The Monaco That Wasn't
The Monaco Grand Prix played on the television in Justin's office, the commentators enthusiastic about Tony Stark's unexpected decision to race his own car.
Ivan Vanko sat on the couch beside Justin, eating takeout and watching with clinical detachment.
"This is when I attack," Vanko said. His English had improved significantly over the months working for Hammer Industries. "In other timeline. I walk onto track with arc reactor whips. Try to kill him in front of cameras."
"Would have worked too," Justin said. "You'd have torn his car apart. Nearly killed him."
"And then?" Vanko asked, though he already knew the answer. Justin had explained the original timeline when recruiting him—full honesty seemed fairest.
"You'd be arrested or killed. Probably killed. And your father's name would be synonymous with terrorism instead of genius."
Vanko grunted. On screen, Tony's car navigated a tight corner at speeds that made Justin wince. "Is strange. Part of me still wants to do it. To hurt him. To make him suffer as my father suffered."
"That's natural."
"But larger part of me wants to prove superiority through creation, not destruction." Vanko gestured to his chest, where an improved arc reactor hummed quietly beneath his shirt. "This reactor is better than Stark's. Smaller. More efficient. When we unveil it, world will know Anton Vanko's work was superior."
"Your father would be proud."
"Maybe." Vanko's voice was rough. "Sometimes miss the anger, though. Was simple. Clear purpose. Now purpose is complicated. Building takes longer than breaking."
Justin understood that sentiment more than Vanko realized. Revenge was easy. Construction was hard. And choosing the harder path meant living with doubt about whether you'd made the right choice.
On screen, Tony completed another lap without incident. No physicist with energy whips. No near-death experience. No dramatic proof of Iron Man's vulnerability.
The timeline had diverged.
Justin felt the weight of that divergence settle in his chest. Every change rippled outward, creating effects he couldn't fully predict. Tony wouldn't spiral quite as dramatically without this trauma. Rhodey wouldn't steal the War Machine armor in their heated confrontation. The Stark Expo would proceed without impending disaster.
Better outcomes, objectively. But outcomes that meant Justin was operating increasingly blind—his knowledge of the future becoming less reliable with each deliberate change he engineered.
"I'm rewriting the story," he thought. "And I have no idea if the new version ends better or worse."
"You are troubled," Vanko observed.
"Just thinking about consequences."
"Of saving me from suicide-by-superhero?"
"Of all of it. Every choice I make changes what comes next. What if I'm making things worse?"
Vanko snorted. "I am alive, building technology that matters, honoring father's memory. This is not worse. This is better."
"For you, yes. But what about everything else? What if—"
The office door opened without knocking.
Nick Fury walked in, followed by Natasha.
Justin felt his stomach drop. Fury had never visited personally before. This was not good.
"Mr. Hammer," Fury said, his single eye fixing on Justin with the intensity of a targeting laser. "We need to talk."
They sat in Justin's private conference room—Justin on one side of the table, Fury and Natasha on the other. Vanko had been politely asked to leave, which he'd done without argument.
Fury placed a tablet on the table. "Ivan Vanko. Brilliant physicist with documented obsession with destroying Tony Stark. You recruited him eight months ago. Today, the Monaco Grand Prix concluded without incident."
"That's good news, isn't it?"
"It's suspicious news." Fury leaned forward. "We've been tracking Vanko for months. Intercepted communications suggesting he was planning something in Monaco. Then you hire him, and suddenly the attack we were prepared for never materializes."
"Maybe he changed his mind."
"People like Vanko don't change their minds. Not without significant intervention." Fury's gaze was unwavering. "Either you're incredibly lucky, or you knew what was coming. So which is it, Mr. Hammer? Lucky or prescient?"
Justin's mind raced. This was the interrogation he'd been dreading—Fury asking questions he couldn't answer without exposing his foreknowledge.
"I saw a brilliant physicist being wasted on suicidal revenge," Justin said carefully. "I offered him something better. Resources, purpose, a chance to honor his father's legacy through creation instead of destruction. If that prevented violence, I'm glad. The world has enough pointless destruction."
"That's a very convenient answer."
"It's the truth."
"Is it?" Fury glanced at Natasha. "Agent Romanoff has been filing increasingly confused reports about you. Says you're either the most elaborate long-con in intelligence history or you're genuinely trying to do good in morally complicated ways. I'm here to figure out which."
Justin met Fury's eye. "Why can't it be both?"
"Because generally, people pick a side. Hero or villain. Legal or criminal. Transparent or secretive. You? You're all of them simultaneously."
"I'm pragmatic," Justin said. "I want Hammer Industries to succeed. I want to build technology that makes a difference. And yes, sometimes that means operating in grey areas. But my goals align with yours—I want to prevent disasters, not cause them."
"Then how did you know about Vanko's plan?"
"I didn't know. I suspected." Justin gestured to the tablet. "Ghost Network intel suggested Vanko was developing weapons in Moscow. His father worked with Howard Stark, so logical assumption was he had issues with Tony. I offered him an alternative before his issues became violent. That's good threat assessment, not precognition."
Fury was silent for a long moment, studying Justin with that single penetrating eye.
"You're lying," he said finally. "Not about everything. But about something. You know more than you're saying."
"Everyone knows more than they're saying, Director. That's the nature of intelligence work."
"Don't patronize me."
"I'm not. I'm pointing out that you have secrets too. SHIELD has secrets. Stark has secrets. We all operate with incomplete information about each other, and that's fine as long as our interests align."
"And do our interests align?"
"I prevented a terrorist attack on Tony Stark," Justin said. "I've built defensive technologies that will save American lives. I've recruited enhanced individuals who could have been threats and turned them into assets. What part of that conflicts with SHIELD's mission?"
Fury leaned back. "The part where you do it without oversight. Without transparency. Without anyone understanding how you know what you know."
"Would you prefer I operate differently? Share all my intelligence with SHIELD? Open my books completely?"
"Yes."
"Then we're at an impasse," Justin said. "Because I'm not willing to give SHIELD that level of control over my operations. But I am willing to cooperate. Share information. Coordinate on mutual threats. Be an ally without being a subordinate."
The room went quiet. Natasha's expression was carefully neutral, but Justin could see the tension in her shoulders. She'd covered for him in her reports, spun his actions as positively as possible. If Fury decided Justin was a threat, she'd be caught in the middle.
Finally, Fury stood. "I don't trust you, Hammer. You're too smart, too capable, and you know too much. But you're right that you've prevented more problems than you've caused. For now, that's enough."
"For now," Justin echoed.
"But understand this—I'm watching. Every move you make. Every technology you develop. Every person you recruit. And the moment you cross the line from asset to threat, I will shut you down so fast you won't have time to regret it."
"Understood."
Fury walked to the door, then paused. "One more thing. How did you really know about Vanko?"
Justin smiled. "Trade secret, Director. Everyone needs some mystery."
Fury grunted and left.
Natasha lingered.
"That was dangerous," she said quietly.
"I know."
"He almost didn't buy it. If I hadn't supported your assessment in my reports—"
"Thank you." Justin's voice was sincere. "For covering for me. For trusting me enough to risk your professional relationship with Fury."
"Don't make me regret it."
"I'll try not to."
She studied him. "Someday, you're going to have to tell someone the truth. About how you know things. About what you're really preparing for."
"Someday," Justin agreed. "When it won't sound completely insane."
"It already sounds insane. You're just hoping to make it sound slightly less insane over time."
Justin laughed despite the tension. "That's... actually accurate."
Natasha walked to the door, then paused. "For what it's worth? I'm glad Vanko didn't attack Tony. Whatever your methods, the outcome was right."
"That's all I'm trying to do. Get the right outcomes."
"Then keep doing it. But Justin?" She looked back at him. "The timeline you're trying to fix? Eventually, you're going to have to tell me what you're fixing it from."
She left before he could respond.
Justin slumped in his chair, adrenaline finally fading. That interrogation had been closer to disaster than he cared to admit. If Fury had pushed harder, if Natasha hadn't covered for him, if he'd slipped and revealed something he shouldn't know—
The void marks on his arms pulsed, darker than ever now. The corruption was spreading faster with each power use, each transmutation, each day that passed.
Fifteen months until critical levels. Maybe less.
Better make them count.
Outside, Monaco was celebrating another successful race. Tony Stark was probably drinking champagne and signing autographs, completely unaware how close he'd come to dying today. Unaware that someone had prevented his death without him ever knowing the danger existed.
Justin pulled out his tablet and reviewed the cascading changes from Vanko's non-attack:
Tony's palladium poisoning would progress differently without Monaco traumaSenate hearings would lack dramatic footage of Stark vulnerabilityRhodey wouldn't steal War Machine in angerStark Expo would proceed peacefullyPepper and Tony's relationship would develop differently
Each change created new unknowns. The future Justin remembered was becoming increasingly fictional—a story he knew the plot of but whose details kept shifting.
He was flying blind into a future he could no longer predict.
And somehow, he had to make sure it ended better than the original.
"No pressure," he thought bitterly.
AEGIS's voice interrupted: "Sir, monitoring indicates elevated stress levels. Should I be concerned?"
"Always, AEGIS. Always be concerned."
"That is not reassuring."
"Wasn't meant to be."
Justin turned off the Monaco coverage and pulled up his strategic planning documents. Three years until the Chitauri invasion. Two years until his void corruption potentially killed him. And an unknowable number of days until the timeline he'd rewritten collapsed into chaos.
Better keep building. Keep preparing. Keep hoping he was making the right choices.
Even when he had no idea if "right" meant anything anymore.
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