Palladium Poisoning

After the shareholders' meeting concluded, Tony and Pepper returned to the villa in a daze.

Agent Coulson remained silent throughout, following them closely.

It wasn't until Tony and Pepper had sat on the sofa in silence for a long time that Coulson couldn't hold back anymore.

"Mr. Stark, Miss Potts, I think this Sherlock character is very suspicious. Would you like me to investigate him?"

As an agent with years of experience, his instincts told him that there was something off about Sherlock's identity, and the shares he held were particularly strange.

Hearing this, Pepper's eyes lit up with renewed hope.

"Yes, Sherlock seemed to appear out of nowhere; it makes no sense. There must be something shady about him!"

Tony remained silent, his head still bowed.

It wasn't until Pepper called his name several times that he finally snapped back to reality.

"Tony, are you okay? Don't worry, we may have lost this time, but I'm confident we can win next time."

Tony, still a bit dazed, shook his head slightly. "I'm not thinking about that."

"Then what are you thinking about?"

"That man, Vanko..."

He couldn't shake the feeling that Vanko, much like himself, was obsessive. It seemed that in Vanko's eyes, his father was nothing but a thief and a crook.

Even though Tony was certain his father had done nothing wrong, a sense of unease continued to linger.

"Why are you thinking about Vanko? He's just the son of a thief. Even our government has already convicted him of stealing classified information and deported him. What's there to dwell on?"

Tony felt slightly reassured by the mention of the government's conviction.

Yes, surely the U.S. government wouldn't fabricate something like this.

Just then, a wave of pain and discomfort swept over him.

This pain had been creeping up ever since his fight with Shingen Yashida's Silver Samurai. At first, he hadn't paid much attention to it, but now it was becoming more noticeable.

Since he was home now, Tony figured he might as well run a full check on himself to make sure there weren't any lasting injuries.

"I'll head downstairs to get some work done. You two can continue talking."

With that, he headed downstairs.

An hour later, Tony stared at the report in his hands, his face turning pale. His hand holding the report trembled slightly.

The palladium level in his body was thirty times higher than normal.

If he sought treatment and stayed away from palladium, his levels could eventually return to normal.

But the arc reactor in his chest, the very thing keeping him alive, relied on palladium.

The shrapnel lodged near his heart needed the reactor's magnetic field to stay in place, preventing it from reaching his heart.

In other words, he couldn't avoid palladium.

He was doomed.

This realization drained all color from his face.

Just then, the sound of footsteps came from the stairs.

It was Pepper.

Seeing her approach, Tony quickly hid the report, pretending nothing was wrong.

"Is something up?"

Pepper had intended to tell him about the decision she and Coulson had made, but when she saw Tony's unusually pale face, a wave of anxiety and concern washed over her.

"Tony, are you okay? You look really pale."

As she spoke, she touched his cheek gently.

Tony quickly tossed the report aside, grabbed her hand, and smiled.

"I'm fine. Just a minor mishap in an experiment earlier. So, how did your discussion with Coulson go?"

Pepper, seeing that Tony seemed fine, relaxed and withdrew her hand. She shook her head.

"Not much progress. We've decided to investigate Sherlock's source of funding and then try to convince Umbrella to withdraw their support for Obadiah."

"Convincing Umbrella to drop Obadiah will be tough. Be prepared for a long fight."

As he changed the subject, Tony wrapped his arm around Pepper and began guiding her upstairs.

He didn't want her to find out about his condition.

She was already stressed enough dealing with Stark Industries; there was no need to add his own troubles to her worries.

"I know it's difficult, but we have to at least try to meet with Mr. Adam and see if we can persuade him."

"Let's not overthink it for now. We should get some rest."

"Isn't it a bit early?"

"Rest is important."

"Is that all we're doing? Resting?"

"Uh, probably..."

.............

While Tony was struggling with the rising palladium levels in his body, so much so that he couldn't even make a trip to Japan, it was morning there. The sun was just beginning to rise.

Charles, watching from a distance, was feeling frustrated as he observed Mariko Yashida exit her car, surrounded by security personnel.

There was something on her person that seemed to shield her from his mental probes, preventing him from accessing her memories from a distance.

Maybe he could get through if he got closer, but each time he tried to approach her, her security detail would block his path.

As Mariko disappeared into the building under the protection of her bodyguards, Jean, who was pushing Charles's wheelchair, suggested, "Professor, why don't we try scheduling a formal meeting? Maybe we could get close to her that way?"

"Hmm, it's worth a shot. But there's no need to push me along."

"But Professor, are you sure about going alone...?"

"I'll be fine. Nobody pays attention to an old man like me."

"Well… okay."

After a brief hesitation, Jean nodded.

"Take care, Professor."

With that, she strode toward the Yashida Corporation building.

Shortly after Jean left, a man walked past Charles, muttering, "It's all Umbrella's doing..."

He dropped a USB drive as he continued walking, never breaking his stride.

Charles immediately extended his mental powers, probing the man's mind to figure out who he was and what he meant by that cryptic remark.

But when he entered the man's mind, all he found was chaos and an overwhelming sense of destruction.

Startled, Charles withdrew his psychic probe.

This was no ordinary person.

Sensing something amiss, the man glanced back at Charles.

In that brief moment, a high-velocity bullet, traveling at ten times the speed of sound, pierced through the man's skull.

"Thwack!"

"Bang!"

The sound of the gunshot followed, belatedly.

"Aah!"

"Someone's been shot!"

"He's dead!"

The onlookers, horrified by the sight of the man's head exploding like a watermelon, fled in panic, blood and brain matter splattered everywhere.

Charles, still in shock, watched as the man's hands morphed grotesquely, extending into what looked like tentacles.

What kind of monster was this?

And was the chaos and destruction in his mind simply an instinctual drive of this creature?

Then Charles remembered the USB drive and the man's parting words.

Had Umbrella killed him?

Meanwhile, on a distant rooftop more than 700 meters away, a woman dressed in a red ninja suit, her figure curvaceous and athletic, lowered her electromagnetic sniper rifle.

"Masanobu Tanikawa, how long will you keep hiding? Once I kill all your subordinates, do you think you'll still be able to stay out of sight?"

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