Chapter 11: Interlude 1- Ready, steady, take AIM

Maya Hansen was up to her elbows in her work, documents piled up high on her desk as she worked long into the night. She had been working for close to fourteen hours on end now, and while every other sane person would have packed up and gone home long ago, Hansen refused to give up, even as the sun went down under the horizon, her only lightsource her desklamp and the stars outside.

Or rather, she couldn't give up.

Her backers had been rather insistent on seeing results after all, and they were the kind of backers that when they insisted upon something, then they would receive that something, no matter the cost.

At that very moment, her telephone started to ring.

'Speak of the devil…' the scientist thought to herself, and given who she suspected was on the other end of the line she didn't even know wheter she was talking metaphorically or not.

Lifting the phone to her ear (making sure to steady her hand with her other arm in order to keep it from trembling too much) she took the call.

"Doctor Hansen. I do hope you have some good news for us this time. We would be most… displeased if we were to discover that our funding into your little think tank had all gone up in thin air."

Hansen chose to ignore the fact that technically A.I.M. was backed by the U.S. Government, though there were clearly individuals within that were actually pulling the strings behinds A.I.M.'s research, sending them more money than she had ever seen and waving away every objection FDA might have (which probably would be every single one).

"We are in fact seeing some promising results. Massive regeneration of damaged tissue, and even restoration of tissue that is completely lost. The exothermic reactions are interesting in that-"

"Yes, Doctor Hansen, I do read the reports you send us. But I'm not interested in what you've chosen to reveal in your reports. What you've chosen not to send us, now that's really something worth investigating, wouldn't you agree?"

"I can assure you, I don't know what-"

"Are your subjects stable, Doctor Hansen?"

Clenching and unclenching her free hand in nervousness, Maya swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat.

"Doctor Hansen. Are your subjects stable?"

"Ah well, we do have subjects that remain within nominal levels and I believe-"

"Yes, nominal levels you say. Unfortunately for you, Doctor Hansen, I do not consider regular injections, tests and constant regulation a stable subject."

"We are getting there, sir. Every subject that survives the initial injection is a continuing source of data on how the virus interacts with the bio-electric system and metabolic processes in the body. We just need more time."

"Yes. More. Something that I have noticed in our conversations with you, Doctor Hansen, is that this word just keeps propping up somehow. More money. More researchers. More time. Just more and more and more and more and yet: we have actually to see any returns on our rather substantial investment, Doctor Hansen."

She didn't know what annoyed her more; his constant attempts at getting a rise out of her by repeating her name so often, drawing it out in an oily drawl, or the fact that it was working.

"Making super soldiers isn't easy, sir."

"No. No it certainly isn't. Which is why I was so surprised at the reports I received about that little showdown on the docks. I'm sure even you've heard something about that as well, even as holed up as you are in that facility of ours, Doctor Hansen."

"Yes sir, I have."

"Ah, good. You see, the thing that made me so surprised was that investigations of the firefighters, the police, both CIA and FBI, as well as our own operatives all came to the same conclusion: this was an attack from somewhere else on the pier, rather than something that spontaneously happened from the site of the car wrecks."

Maya felt something pricking in her eye and realized with a start that she was completely covered in ice-cold sweat.

"Oh. What a surprising conclusion." She said, hoping that her voice remained neutral and that the tremor in her tone was only in her imagination.

"Yes. Very surprising, especially when one takes into consideration that it was you Doctor Hansen, who told us that it was just probably one of the Extremis-subjects… malfunctioning."

Maya opened and closed her mouth a few times, though no sound escaped her. A chuckle came from the phone, but it was a sound cloaked in a hidden promise of malevolence, rather than just a sound of mirth and the main scientist of A.I.M. felt her heart skip a couple of beats as it wormed its way into her head.

"Of course, we all make mistake sometimes, do we not, Doctor Hansen. But imagine my sheer shock when I hear whispers from Africa. Whispers of a demon, crippling gangs and taking Ulysses Klaue hostage of all things, only to sell the entirety of the man's stock and tear off towards the jungle, a JSOC Ghost in tow."

Swallowing down her fear, Maya tried to answer the man's unspoken question.

"And exactly how is this… demon, relevant to A.I.M. or the Extremis Project?"

"Because, Doctor Hansen, all the reports agree on one thing: the demon has eyes of fire." The voice said, and the faux warm tone of voice was gone, instead replaced by a cold rage, barely contained by the merest shreds of civility.

Maya felt the room spin at the man's words, and gripped the phone with such strength her knuckles turned white out of fear of suddenly dropping it (much like she felt had just happened to her heart, in fact).

"Someone, somewhere, is running around with Extremis in their bodies. And they. Don't. Blow. UP!"

"Sir, I don't-"

"You keep asking for time and money and recourses, Doctor Hansen, and we've been more than fair in acquiescing to your request, content with remaining in the background and allowing you a rather… unique amount of independence. We did this on the ground that we held the utter conviction that you wouldn't be so foolish as to make us regret doing so. Clearly, we need to readjust that belief."

"I promise you that we are working as hard and fast as we can-"

"You're not fast enough! In fact, you are already behind, Doctor Hansen! There's already an Extremis subject out there, and it's not one of ours. This is unacceptable, Doctor Hansen. We entered into a deal with you in return for super soldiers, and so far the only one who has seemed to have profited from it is some shmuck in Africa, knocking over gangs and arms dealers!"

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Maya tried to keep her fear from coming through in her voice.

"We have made great strides in the creation of the Extremis virus, sir. It's the host that is the problem, and it's a problem that we are closer to solving every day. How someone else managed to get his hands on enough of the virus to enhance himself with I don't know, not to mention how he hasn't blown himself up yet. But as it is, I can work as fast as you wish me to, but all that'll amount to is more people going critical. We need something that'll allow the host to fully integrate the effects of Extremis into its DNA without getting overcharged, and finding that something will either take a ridiculous amount of luck, or consistent, careful testing and experimentation."

Breathing heavily after her rant, Maya felt her nerves singing with mounting fear as the silence on the telephone kept on stretching longer and longer. It was difficult to say what was more terrifying: the continued silence or the man's possible answer.

"We are getting impatient, Doctor Hansen. See to it that it shall be remedied in the near future. However, we are not so foolish as to neglect the use even failed subjects might have. Explain to me what 'going critical' fully entails, Doctor Hansen."

Shuddering at the way the man dragged out her name (and hating the ease with which that riled her up, just knowing that he was fully aware of it even through the phone) Maya tried to answer his question.

"Extremis users are able to consciously control the amount of heat expelled from their body, but this effect has been shown to be unstable in the event of an Extremis overload in the body. If the virus is not accepted by the body or regulated inside it, the metabolic process that causes the user to generate heat, as well as the bio-electricity harnessed by Extremis, will overload, causing the user's body to rapidly build up energy and force, causing them to explode and produce a powerful shockwave. The resulting explosion is in the excess of 3,000°C and instantly vaporizes the Extremis user's body, along with anything within a certain proximity of the explosion, leaving behind shadow-like marks of objects that were vaporized, much like in nuclear explosions."

Again there's a silence after her explanation, though this one is thankfully a lot shorter and less nerve-wracking.

"I see. Very interesting. And potentially not without its uses I suppose."

Personally Maya couldn't really see the use in having people explode in flaming conflagrations of death, and she quickly decided that she definitely didn't want to know what kind of uses the unknown man had in mind.

Ignorance is bliss, after all.

"Continue your testing, Doctor Hansen. However, the survivors of the injection are to place directly into the field. They shall be led by an associate of ours. They will of course bow to your medical expertise and recall the subjects if you deem that they are in need of a stabilizing agent, though in some cases we might… advise against such an action."

Trying (and only somewhat succeeding) to suppress the knowledge that she was just told to occasionally let men and women explode whenever her mysterious backers found that more useful than keeping them alive, Maya swallowed down her building revulsion.

"Who's the associate? Sir."

"You can see for yourself."

And with that, the line went dead. Glancing at her phone in shock, Maya's face twisted in a scowl as she drew her arm back and threw the mobile at the nearest wall, shattering it into pieces.

Falling back down into her chair with a huff, the scientist rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling a migraine coming on.

"Fucking asshole." She muttered to herself, though softly enough to barely be heard (she was half convinced every single part of this facility had been bugged, given the man's apparent knowledge on the state of her research).

"While I do not approve of the language, I can certainly understand the sentiment."

Shooting from her desk in fear, Maya looked wildly around, only to squint her eyes as the light in the hall of her office was suddenly turned on. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the glaring light, she began to make out the silhouette of a man sitting in the corner of her office.

"Who the hell are you?! How long have you been there?!"

The man shifted, and Maya could see light flash across a heavy pair of aviator glasses, set above a bushy beard, concealed by a wide hood.

"I've been here long enough. And as to who I am… I am merely a teacher, though there are those who call me terrorist. To others… I am the Mandarin."

And with that the man rose, throwing off his hood, revealing an aged face, set with hard lines and a deep tan. As the man approached her, Maya's senses kept screaming at her that he was dangerous, a predator stuck in the same room as a rabbit. She tried to back away, but after a few steps her back had hit the wall, while the self-proclaimed Mandarin kept closing in, until they were less than an arms-width apart.

For a moment, silence fell between them, the terrorist studying her face with odd little twisting motions of his head.

"I understand how… difficult these last few months must have been for you. The leader of your organization: gone. Mysterious backers, crawling out from the shadows, demanding results that you cannot deliver. And all the while, someone out there, is running around, enhanced with the very pinnacle of your work, yet you don't know how to replicate it."

Maya remained silent, noting to herself that the man had odd inflections when he spoke, as well as an accent she had never heard before.

"But, there's no need to flounder, not anymore. I am here, because you can help me, Miss Hansen, and in return, I can help you. You see, I seek to… educate America. And those, marvelous, creatures you have created… yes, they shall do very fine indeed as instruments of my lessons."

Getting the sense that the man before her was either mad or a terrorist with megalomaniac tendencies, Maya decided that staying silent was a better option than risking setting the man off.

"Those mysterious backers of yours… those people hidden in shadow, that try to control you, to chain you. They tried to shackle me as well. But while I have gladly made use of their funding, they are mistaken to think I am still bound in their grasp. I possess contacts of my own, powerful friends, ancient friends. And I can use them in order to protect you as well."

"Why?" Maya whispered

Letting out a sharp grin, the man clasped his hands behind his back and started pacing around her desk.

"Tony Stark. First his weapons decide which way victory swings in the conflicts surrounding the beautiful region of the Middle-East. And then, he no longer makes weapons, and I think that finally, there's an end to the hand of America in the war of my country. But, what descends from the sky, but none other than Tony Stark yet again, this time in a weapon that he hoards for himself and once more my people feel the sting of America, feel the toll it demands from them. No longer!" the man turned around with a roar, nearly scaring Maya to death.

"With an army of those… demons, you have created, this time it shall be my people, extracting the toll from the riches of America. Nobody will see me coming, and nobody will be able to stop me. But of course, if your backers snap up the finished product, then this shall no longer be a possibility. For now, my lessons and their agenda align, but I do not intend to let the main prize slip through my fingers."

"So you want me to exchange one master for another?" Maya said with a bitter chuckle, though the sound died in her throat when the Mandarin turned to look at her through those dark aviator glasses.

"We all have masters we must answer to, Miss Hansen."

Wiping her sweating hands on her pants, Maya looked away from the man's intense stare.

"And who's your master?"

"My masters… are the type of people who would have your head if they knew you possessed even a sliver of information about them. And they will find out."

Suppressing a shiver at the threat, Maya tried to switch to a different subject.

"What are you going to do? Are you going to remain here?"

Stroking his beard with one hand (showcasing the heavy rings he wore, one on each finger), the terrorist seemed to contemplate something, before chuckling.

"Yes, for now I shall remain upon the soil of my greatest enemy. Where better to strike at its heart, then from within?"

"You could get caught." Maya pointed out, though not out of any sense of concern for the madman, but rather out of hope that it would make him decide to finally leave.

It was useless however, as it simply made the Mandarin laugh.

"Ah, such a chance is slimmer than you think. There are very few people with the knowledge of my appearance. Besides that however, I must say that I have always rather enjoyed drama and acting."

And with that, the man just… shifted. It was still the same body, the same clothes, but the oppressive aura of danger that had been weighing down the air in the room had suddenly disappeared, making Maya feel as if she could breathe properly for the first time in hours.

It was just something in the man's stance, the way he carried himself that had completely transformed her in front of her eyes. Reaching up, the Mandarin took off his aviator glasses, showing her his dark eyes, though they were crinkled with innocent mirth.

As he spoke, she was completely caught by surprise by the man's heavy Cockney accent, as if the man had been born and raised in the streets of London for all his life.

"Don' worry 'bout any 'o that now, luv! I'll be fine I tell ya. Just call me… Trevor, why dontja? Trevor Slattery."