The Malibu estate, drenched in moonlight, sat high on the cliff's edge like a wounded animal licking its wounds. Inside, silence had returned after the chaos. The soft hum of tech whispered beneath the floors, like a heartbeat struggling to maintain rhythm.
Outside, just beyond the lounging and swimming pool area—an area deliberately built beyond the reach of the estate's surveillance—a portal swirled open, illuminating the dark patio tiles with eerie blue light.
From the portal stepped Illyana Rasputina, cloaked in dark leather and magic. With her came Glenn.
The Handyman.
He stepped onto the tiled patio with a slow, measured pace, dressed to kill in his signature professional attire: a black gentleman's suit, crisp and flawless, fitted gloves over his hands, and a deep red necktie knotted with the same elegance he brought to his kills. The night air tugged gently at the hem of his coat.
A cigarette dangled from his lips, glowing faintly. His eyes scanned the estate with the casual detachment of a man assessing a crime scene he hadn't yet committed.
Illyana gave him a nod. "No cameras past this line."
"Figured," Glenn muttered, flicking ash to the wind. "Wouldn't be a proper billionaire fortress without a blind spot big enough to hide your sins."
They walked through the open glass doors. Glenn took the lead. His steps were slow, deliberate, heavy with intent.
And there—sprawled awkwardly across a sofa like a mannequin halfway through a seizure—was Tony Stark.
Hole in his chest, his arc reactor missing, his face pale and drawn. A sheen of sweat clung to his forehead. His limbs twitched with the effort of survival.
Glenn whistled low and long.
"Well, would you look at that. The great Tony Stark, reduced to a soggy bag of meat and blue veins."
Tony groaned.
"You were always dramatic, but damn. You look like a discount Halloween decoration someone forgot on the porch."
Tony's eyes fluttered weakly. Glenn crouched beside him, looking him over with a smirk.
"Some genius you are. Let your business partner play the Uno reverse card with your own invention."
Glenn reached into his coat. From an inside pocket, he pulled a sleek, modified arc reactor—smaller than Tony's standard model, but no less powerful. It shimmered with an ominous blue hue.
"This," Glenn said, holding it up, "was supposed to be my doomsday battery for my sinister bedside lampshade built by you. I've seen it assembled with my own eyes. Paid with blood and sarcasm after I pulled your iron ass out of that cave in Afghanistan. And now, look at us—back to old debts. For real, you look like a toy that ran out of battery."
Tony's gaze fixed on the device.
"Can't take your of it, huh? Don't worry it still works like a charm. Fresh like you've just handed it over to me." Glenn placed it gently into Tony's hand. "You owe me another favor, Tony. One for each time I keep you breathing."
"You could've auditioned for zombie movie or apply as an extra corpse to sci-fi film. Better yet, become Woody in Toy Story cause you exactly like him right now when Andy was around."
"..Ghhhhhh"
"Oh you want me to put it in for you? I don't swing that way, man. No homo!"
"What? You mean the reactor? Ahh I get it now."
"Fine, fine! Why are you in hurry?"
Tony was trembling. He couldn't pinpoint exactly whether the cause of his cardiac arrest was because of the arc reactor missing in his chest or out of anger from the pile crap coming out of Glenn's mouth. As Glenn worked carefully trying to insert the arc reactor inside his chest. In the process of doing so, he purposedly slipped the wire which made Tony jolt and groan in pain. Eventually, it clicked into place. Instantly, light flared in his chest. Energy surged through his limbs. He gasped.
Tony coughed, a weak smile twitching. "I swear to god..."
The pain didn't vanish—but his mind cleared. His heart found rhythm.
"...you did that on purpose!" he breathed.
"What part? The roast or jolt?"
"Both."
Glenn stood and dusted off his sleeves. "I did. You should've hired me earlier. Would've saved yourself a midlife crisis in a box of wires."
--
Minutes later, Tony limped into his lab, now stabilized. Glenn followed, arms folded, cigarette trailing smoke like a flare.
"You gonna suit up?" Glenn asked. "Or you planning to take down Stane with witty comebacks and a walker?"
Tony glared, activating the suit gantry. Robotic arms extended, scanning his vitals.
"I'm going. But I need a fail-safe. Stane's not alone, and if Pepper gets hurt—"
"You want me to babysit the redhead," Glenn interrupted. "Say it straight."
"Not babysit. Save. Intervene if necessary. Whatever keeps her alive. If Coulson's there, make sure he doesn't end up in a body bag either."
Glenn nodded slowly. "Insurance policy, got it. You know my rate isn't a bargain sale, right?"
"As long as it's something materialistic I'm willing to pay, I'll double your rate."
Ding!
[Quest Issued]
Assist Tony Stark with his fight against the Iron Monger. Prevent any lives lost during the fight.
Reward: King's Punch
Status: Pending
Glenn grinned when he saw the system issued another quest and said, "Glad to hear that, consider it done."
Then he turned to Illyana, who had been laughing her ass off. She wheezed to calm herself and then nodded in understanding.
Both of them turned and began to walk outside towards the balcony where they arrived earlier.
Tony watched them. "Be fast."
Glenn tipped his head. "Be careful. You've got the only model we have. Your old one's can't even produce a spark."
As soon as they arrived at the same blindspot, Glenn immediately said.
"Open the door,"
She lifted her hand. A disc of blue light opened wide, swirling with dark energy at its edges.
He and Illyana stepped through.
---
The Malibu gate buzzed. Minutes later, James Rhodes entered the estate, weapon holstered but ready, jaw clenched.
"Tony?" he called. "Where the hell—"
Then he saw it.
Inside the lab, the Mark III suit stood tall. Fully assembled. Power lines glowing.
And in the heart of it—Tony Stark. Recovered. Armored. Alive.
Rhodes stepped forward. "You're going out there, aren't you?"
Tony gave him a tired but determined smile. "Wouldn't be the first time."
"You're insane."
"I'm consistent."
He stepped into the armor. Metal locked into place. HUDs flickered to life. The Iron Man returned.
--
Elsewhere, a new portal opened deep within the industrial levels of Stark Industries. Glenn and Illyana emerged without a sound.
The air was tense. Lights flickered. Sirens pulsed in the distance.
Glenn tapped his comm. "Skye, status?"
"Sector 16's lit like a reactor meltdown. SHIELD's in, but Stane's still in motion."
"Like always, cover our ass."
"Roger that."
Then, ahead in the corridor, Glenn saw them.
Pepper Potts. Phil Coulson. Three SHIELD agents. Moving quickly toward the Sector 16 vault.
Glenn and Illyana stepped from the shadows.
"Fancy meeting you here," Glenn called.
Pepper froze, then turned. "Glenn?!"
"You guys really have a talent for walking into death traps without backup."
Coulson moved subtly between them, eyes narrowing.
"May I ask, what are you doing here Mr. Handyman?"
"It's alright," Pepper said quickly. "He's with Tony."
Glenn nodded at Pepper and then turned to Coulson. "Business of course. Tony hired me."
"Can I ask the specifics?" Coulson asked in surprise.
"Oh don't worry, I was hired to protect. Nothing major."
"Protect who?"
Glenn nodded at Pepper and said, "Her and unfortunately, that also includes you lot from the agency of what's that again? Aha! I remember now! Seriously Hopeless Individuals Employing Lame Devices aka SHIELD."
Illyana and Pepper was stunned at first then burst out laughing at the joke.
Coulson although annoyed, couldn't help but stiffle a laugh. "SHIELD would do just fine, Mr. Handyman."
Glenn winked at him, "Sure! Don't worry, I'll make sure to prevent any harm to your receding hai--I mean to save your asses."
Coulson heaved a sigh of relief and clearly any tension from him was gone. "That would be much appreciated."
Glenn smirked, rolling his shoulders. "It's just business. Don't worry about it. So shall we HEAD inside?"
--
The door to Sector 16 groaned open, thick with the weight of locked secrets. Stark Industries had many classified compartments—but this one radiated something colder, more sinister. Inside, the lights flickered, barely functional, throwing long, unstable shadows across the metal walls.
Phil Coulson moved first, weapon drawn, flanked by three SHIELD agents clad in tactical armor. Their footsteps echoed like the ticking of a countdown.
Pepper Potts followed, her breath shallow, fists clenched. Behind her, Glenn walked with casual control, each step purposeful, his cigarette trailing faint smoke. Illyana trailed silently beside him, her fingers twitching with anticipation though her sword remained unmaterialized.
"Something's wrong," Coulson muttered, eyes sweeping across the corridors.
"No shit," Glenn replied, voice low. "The silence is staged. He's here."
They moved deeper into the heart of the lab. Machines covered in tarps. Cables hanging like vines. The hum of generators vibrated underfoot.
Pepper peeled off to the side, approaching a series of sealed workbenches with computer stations. One of the SHIELD agents joined her, flashlight cutting through the gloom.
"Be careful," Coulson warned. "Stay in line of sight."
Glenn's head turned slightly. His observation haki prickled. There—behind the large containment column—heat signatures, subtle shifts in the air. Someone was hiding, or something was waiting.
He reached for a nearby metal pipe, pulled it free without breaking stride.
Then everything changed.
A mechanical whir filled the air. Hydraulic pressure hissed. And in the far shadows of the chamber, a pair of eyes—burning, electric—came to life.
Pepper gasped. "What is that...?"
The eyes surged forward. Metal shrieked.
Out of the shadows, the Iron Monger stood. Towering. Inhuman. A beast of steel and vengeance, powered by Tony's stolen design.
Pepper screamed.
"Open fire!" Coulson barked.
The SHIELD agents aimed and unleashed. Bullets pounded against the armor. Sparks flew.
But nothing penetrated.
Iron Monger turned, his arm swinging like a wrecking ball. One SHIELD agent was thrown across the chamber, smashing into a control console. Another dove aside just in time, landing hard.
Illyana moved toward Pepper, eyes locked on the mech. Her posture tensed—ready to summon her blade, but Glenn's voice snapped like a whip.
"Illyana! No blades. Just get them out of here. Keep them alive."
She hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded, pivoting without a word to rally Coulson, Pepper, and the remaining agents. Her eyes never left the Iron Monger, but she obeyed.
Glenn stepped forward, the steel pipe balanced loosely in his grip.
Iron Monger roared and charged.
The floor thundered beneath the machine's weight. Glenn sidestepped, fluid and fast, letting the mech's punch crash into a pillar, concrete erupting into dust.
Glenn used the pipe like a baton, batting away the second strike—not to damage, but to deflect. With right physics and the right amount of push, redirecting the force, he was able to do it. Though the pipe bent but not crumpled. Just enough for Illyana and the others to move further back.
The mech turned, targeting Coulson next.
"No you don't, not on my watch Megabald. " Glenn muttered, sprinting forward and swinging the pipe like a lever into the side of the mech's leg. It redirected the balance, forcing the stomp to land wide.
Iron Monger twisted, grabbing for Glenn, who ducked beneath the grabbing claw. He slid across the floor, spun up to his feet, and slammed the pipe across the mech's wrist. Again—no damage. Just angle disruption.
"Your aim's worse than a drunk stormtrooper," Glenn taunted, keeping his breath steady.
Illyana guided Pepper through the debris field toward the exit. Coulson and the agents moved fast, weapons lowered now—useless against armor.
Iron Monger came again.
This time with more fury.
Glenn barely had time to vault onto a workbench, flipping over a suspended cable line as the mech smashed through an entire wall of lab equipment. He landed hard, crouched, and threw a wrench into the mech's sensor array. It bounced harmlessly but blocked a second's visibility.
That was all he needed.
"Move, damn it!" Glenn barked as Pepper stumbled through the threshold, Illyana shielding her with her arm.
Another agent tripped. Glenn tossed his pipe like a javelin. It hit the floor right under Iron Monger's foot, causing the mech's balance to shift for a crucial beat.
The agent scrambled out.
Illyana called back, "Everyone's clear!"
Glenn exhaled, took one final glance toward the monster, and ran.
He wasn't here to fight it. That wasn't the job. He wasn't paid to destroy Stark's Frankenstein. He was here to prevent body bags.
And he'd done it.
As Iron Monger roared behind him, Glenn sprinted through the corridor, boots echoing against the steel. He didn't look back. He didn't need to.
Because somewhere, not far behind, he knew the real Iron Man was coming.