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72 The Mandarin
🕑 Added 2025-03-14 18:15:01 +0000 UTCHarry and Tony stood side by side, fully decked out in their superhero outfits as they surveyed the mansion where the Mandarin was residing. Natasha and Clint were back at Tony’s mansion protecting Maya and Pepper while also providing oversight for the two.
“Why is an international terrorist hanging out in a mansion in Florida?” Tony gestured toward the compound. “This place screams retirement home for washed-up celebrities, not ‘global mastermind.’ And don’t get me started on the security. I’ve seen mall cops with tighter patrols.”
Harry chuckled softly as his eyes scanned the compound. “Maybe the Mandarin just likes the beach life. Everyone’s got their version of a safe house. This one just comes with palm trees and piña coladas.”
Tony shook his head. “This isn’t adding up. Jarvis, are you absolutely sure this is the right place? Please tell me your GPS didn’t decide to reroute us to some influencer’s party pad.”
“Yes, sir,” Jarvis replied smoothly. “This is the precise origin point of the Mandarin’s broadcast signal. The data leaves no room for error.”
Tony threw up his hands. “Great. We’re storming Miami Vice HQ.”
Harry tilted his head. “It’s not just the location. The vibe here is wrong too. Loose guards, no obvious defences, no sign of heightened activity. If this is the hub of a global terror network, it’s the laziest one I’ve ever seen.”
Tony glanced at him. “What do your instincts say, soldier boy?”
Harry frowned, his expression thoughtful. “I’m with you on this one. Something feels off. Either the Mandarin’s overconfident or he wants us to think he is.”
“Overconfident, huh?” Tony said, scanning the compound again with his helmet’s sensors. “Let’s hope it’s not ‘murderously underestimating us.’ That would really ruin my day.”
Harry smirked. “Let’s stay sharp. Overconfidence is often just a mask for something nastier lurking underneath.”
Tony sighed. “I’d feel a lot better if this mansion came with at least one evil lair cliché. A secret volcano base, maybe some sharks with lasers…”
“Disappointed that the Mandarin isn’t living up to your comic book expectations?” Harry teased.
“Absolutely. If I don’t get at least one secret passage or self-destruct button out of this, I’m filing a complaint.” Tony answered back. “You want to incapacitate them or take them out?” Tony asked, flexing his gauntlets.
“Let’s incapacitate them,” Harry replied. “These guys don’t scream ‘hardcore terrorist.’ More like ‘overpaid mall security.’” He cast a glance at the guards pacing lazily near the gate. “But we need to make enough noise to draw out the rest. Let’s give them a warm welcome.”
Tony grinned under his helmet. “You had me at ‘ruckus.’”
With a nod, the duo leapt into action. Tony fired his boot thrusters, landing with a metallic clang in front of the mansion’s ornate iron gates. Harry apparated beside him in a flash of magic, his robes billowing dramatically in the humid Miami breeze.
The guards froze, startled by the sudden arrivals.
“Good evening, gentlemen!” Tony called out, his voice dripping with mock cordiality. “Sorry to crash your little soirée, but we’re here to discuss your boss’s very questionable life choices.”
Before the guards could react, Harry swatted his hands. A jet of red light burst forth, striking the first man with a perfectly executed Petrificus Totalus. He stiffened like a board and toppled over, his weapon clattering to the ground.
“That's one down,” Harry quipped.
Tony stepped forward, raising his palm. A repulsor blast streaked across the courtyard, sending a second guard’s gun flying as he scrambled for cover. “And that’s another one disarmed. See what I did there?”
“You’re terrible,” Harry replied, firing off a Stupefy that sent another guard flying into a decorative hedge.
The chaos escalated. Alarms blared as more guards poured out of the mansion. Some were armed with rifles, others clutching batons, all looking bewildered at the two very different figures wreaking havoc on their doorstep.
“Looks like we’ve got their attention,” Tony said, dodging a spray of bullets.
Harry rolled his eyes. “You don’t say.” He waved his hand in an arc, and a shimmering golden shield formed in front of him, deflecting a volley of gunfire.
Tony took the distraction as an opportunity, launching into the air and targeting the balcony where several guards were setting up a sniper’s perch. His micro-missiles whizzed through the air, detonating with a series of concussive booms.
“You’re showing off again,” Harry called out, sending a pair of guards tumbling with an Expelliarmus.
“I can’t help it,” Tony replied, hovering midair. “It’s part of the Stark charm.”
The courtyard was now a cacophony of chaos. Guards were shouting into their radios, alarms blared from every corner, and the tang of burnt metal filled the air.
Harry spun around as another wave of guards rushed them. A flick of his wrist sent a wave of purple energy rippling outward, knocking them all back like bowling pins.
Tony landed beside him with a thud. “You know,” he said casually, firing a wide-angle repulsor blast at an approaching cluster of guards, “this is almost too easy. I’m starting to think we overestimated this place.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Harry replied, stunning another guard who had foolishly tried to sneak up on them.
As the dust settled, Tony turned to Harry, smirking. “Well, that was fun. Shall we see what else is behind door number one?”
When Harry and Tony stepped into the mansion, they were greeted not by the expected austere atmosphere of a terrorist stronghold but by the overwhelming stench of stale alcohol, cheap cologne and cigarette smoke.
“What the…” Tony trailed off as his gaze landed on a cluster of drugged-out partygoers sprawled across plush couches. A woman in a sequined dress, her makeup smeared, blinked groggily at them before turning over and passing out again.
“This doesn’t look like the den of an international terrorist, but your house after one of your infamous parties” Harry muttered. He nudged an empty champagne bottle with his boot, watching it roll across the marble floor.
“Haha,” Tony laughed sarcastically. “You know I have been clean of these types of parties since that birthday party where Rhodey took my suit.”
“Jarvis, do a quick scan of the mansion,” Tony ordered his tone sharper now.
“Scanning, sir. I’m detecting numerous life signs, none of which appear to be armed. There’s also a substantial amount of audiovisual equipment concentrated in the west wing.”
The duo pressed forward, moving through the gaudy, neon-lit hallways. The decor was absurdly over-the-top. Gold-plated fixtures, zebra-print rugs, and walls adorned with questionable modern art.
“This place screams ‘midlife crisis,’ not ‘global terror syndicate,’” Tony commented, stepping over a discarded pair of platform heels.
As they moved deeper into the mansion, the evidence only grew more confusing. In one room, they found an elaborate set-up of camera equipment, green screens, and a soundboard cluttered with half-empty cans of energy drinks. On another table lay fake beards and wigs, haphazardly strewn next to scripts marked with red ink.
“It’s like a bad student film project,” Harry said, picking up a script page that contained exaggerated lines about fortune cookies.
Tony frowned as he scanned the room. “Are you guys seeing this?” he asked, tapping his helmet to make sure that the feed of his helmet was still on for Clint and Natasha.
“Seeing it, yeah,” Clint replied through the intercom. “Still working on processing it. Are we sure this is the right place?”
Natasha’s voice was tinged with incredulity. “The setup doesn’t match the profile of a mastermind. Keep looking; there has to be more to this.”
The pair moved into another room that looked like a bizarre cross between a home theater and a control center. Monitors lined the walls, displaying loops of recorded Mandarin broadcasts. A cluttered desk nearby held a microphone, half a bottle of whiskey, and what appeared to be cue cards with scripted rants.
“I’m starting to think we’ve been had,” Harry said grimly, his wand pointed at a doorway draped with heavy velvet curtains.
As they entered the master bedroom, Tony and Harry paused at the doorway, taking in the bizarre sight. There, sprawled across an oversized circular bed, was the so-called "Mandarin," snoring loudly between two equally nude women. The man had a scruffy beard and a contented smile, completely oblivious to the chaos that had unfolded outside.
“This is our terrifying global terrorist?” Tony whispered incredulously. “Looks like he just stumbled out of a bad bachelor party.”
With a flick of his hand, Harry cast a sleeping charm over the women, ensuring they wouldn’t wake up and complicate things. Another flick and the two were gently levitated off the bed, floated across the room, and deposited onto a nearby plush sofa, where they continued to snore peacefully.
Tony smirked under his helmet. “Chivalrous as always, Potter. Now, what about him?”
Harry grinned mischievously. A bucket of ice-cold water appeared, hovering ominously above the sleeping man.
“Ready for this?” Harry asked.
“Oh, absolutely. This is going to be good.” Tony stepped back to give Harry room.
With a casual swish of his hand, Harry tipped the bucket, and the icy water came crashing down onto the snoring figure.
“AHHH! BLOODY HELL!” the man shouted, bolting upright and flailing wildly as he sputtered and gasped. His wet blanket tangled around him, and he nearly toppled off the bed. “WHAT IS THIS? BLOODY HELL!”
Tony pointed his repulsors directly at the soggy man on the bed. “Don’t move.” He warned
The man froze, his hands awkwardly raised in the air. “I’m not moving,” he replied. “Look, you want something? Take it. Although...” he leaned forward conspiratorially, his wet blanket slipping off one shoulder, “the guns are all fake, because those wankers wouldn’t trust me with the real ones.”
Tony blinked, lowering his repulsor just slightly. “What?”
The man gestured vaguely toward the two women sleeping soundly on the nearby sofa. “Or maybe you’re here for the birds? Fancy one of them? Both, perhaps?”
Harry groaned audibly, rubbing his temples. Tony’s patience snapped. “Okay, I’ve heard enough. You’re not him.”
“Not who?” the man asked, genuinely puzzled.
“The Mandarin,” Tony shot back. “The real guy. Where? Where is the Mandarin? Where is he?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” the man stammered, waving his hands in a calming gesture that only succeeded in making him look more ridiculous. “He’s here. He’s here, but he’s not here. He’s here, but not here, if you catch my drift.”
Tony’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “What does that even mean?”
“It’s complicated,” the man whined, looking genuinely distressed.
“It is?” Tony deadpanned, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“It is complicated,” the man insisted earnestly.
“Uncomplicate it,” Harry snapped, his patience at its end. He flicked his hand, casting Imperio with a whispered incantation.
The man’s face tightened briefly before relaxing. “Right, yes, okay! My name is Trevor. Trevor Slattery.”
Tony stared at him, dumbfounded. “Trevor? What are you, a decoy? A double? Some kind of puppet?”
The man’s demeanor suddenly brightened with a sense of pride. “What? You mean like an understudy? No, absolutely not. I’m an actor!” He puffed out his chest dramatically as if this revelation explained everything.
Harry raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Enough with the theatrics. Start talking. Who set this up?”
Trevor’s confidence wavered. “It’s just a role, mate. You know, a part to play. ‘The Mandarin’—he’s not real!”
“Not real?” Tony repeated incredulously. “Then how did you get here, Trevor?”
Trevor hesitated, his expression shifting from smugness to sheepishness. “Well, it’s a bit of a tale, that one. I, uh, had a bit of a problem. With, um... substances.”
Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Drugs. Great. Go on.”
Trevor nodded vigorously. “Right, yes. Drugs. And, well, things spiraled a bit, you see. I, um, did things... things in the street. Things a man shouldn’t do. And, well, that’s when they found me.”
“Who found you?” Tony pressed.
“People,” Trevor replied vaguely, gesturing in a circle with his hand. “They said they had a proposition. A role. They knew about my... history.”
“What did they say? They’d get you clean?” Harry asked.
Trevor snorted. “Clean? No, mate, no. They said they’d give me more.”
“More?” Tony asked, his voice rising in disbelief.
Trevor nodded enthusiastically. “More drugs. This palace. Plastic surgery. Other, uh, perks.” He trailed off, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling. A contented smile crossed his face, and then, without warning, he slumped backward and began snoring softly.
Harry and Tony exchanged incredulous looks.
“This is who we’ve been chasing?” Harry asked, his voice dripping with disbelief.
Tony shook his head, his expression a mix of fury and incredulity. “Yeah, this is officially the weirdest day of my life. And I’ve fought aliens.”
“Did he just nod off?” Tony asked incredulously, glaring at Trevor.
Harry sighed, conjuring another bucket of icy water and unceremoniously dumping it over the actor's head.
“Gah!” Trevor sputtered, jolting awake. “No! No, I wasn’t asleep!” He shook his head like a drenched dog, blinking rapidly. “And a lovely speedboat! Did I mention the speedboat?”
Harry and Tony exchanged skeptical glances.
“What the hell are you on about now?” Tony asked, crossing his arms.
“The perks!” Trevor exclaimed, warming to his subject. “They gave me a speedboat. Lovely thing, fast as hell. And the deal was, well, he needed someone to, you know, take credit for some accidental explosions.” He made a little “poof” sound with his lips and mimed a small explosion with his hands, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“‘He,’ as in Killian?” Tony pressed, his voice sharp.
Trevor nodded eagerly, water dripping from his unkempt beard. “Yes, Killian. He created me. Brilliant chap, really. Well, a bit intense, but aren’t we all?”
Harry stared at him in disgust. “He created you?”
Trevor beamed as if this was the highest praise. “Oh, yes. Custom-made terror threat, tailor-fitted to scare the hell out of everyone!”
“Custom-made terror threat,” Tony echoed bitterly.
“Yes, yes!” Trevor continued enthusiastically. “His think tank thought it all up, you know. The pathology of a serial killer, the manipulation of Western iconography, the, what was it? Oh, yes ‘cultural subversion at its finest.’ Or something like that. Brilliant buzzwords, really. Ready for another lesson?” He waved a hand grandiosely. “‘Blah, blah, blah,’ you know the drill.”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting every decision that had led him to this moment. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered.
Trevor didn’t notice the growing frustration. “But let’s not forget,” he added, puffing his chest out, “it was my performance that brought the Mandarin to life! Oscar-worthy, some might say.”
“Your performance?” Harry repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “The one where people died?”
“No, no, no!” Trevor protested, waving his hands frantically. “People didn’t die, not because of me! Look around you!” He gestured wildly to the room. “The costumes, the green screens, the cameras! Honestly, I wasn’t even on location for half of it! When I was, it was all movie magic, love. Smoke and mirrors! Pure illusion!”
“Movie magic?” Tony snapped. “You’re telling me this whole thing is a sham? While people were actually dying out there?”
Trevor recoiled slightly at Tony’s tone, but then his expression shifted to that of a sly fox. “Look, if you’re here to arrest me, there’s some people I’d like to roll on, you know?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Big names. Very big.”
Harry looked at Tony, who was staring back at him with a mixture of disbelief and simmering fury.
“What do we do with this clown?” Tony muttered.
Harry sighed. “We keep him talking. He might be the key to getting to Killian.”
Trevor smiled nervously. “Oh, I can talk. I can talk all day, mate. Just, uh... maybe no more buckets of water, yeah?”
“Spill it,” Tony commanded, his tone brooking no argument.
Trevor blinked rapidly, clearly intimidated. “All right, all right! It’s happening off the coast. Something to do with a big boat. Uh… oh yes, the Roxxon Norco! Lovely name, isn’t it?”
Harry stepped closer. “Focus, Trevor.”
“Right, right,” Trevor stammered. “The Roxxon Norco. That’s where Killian’s next… er… performance is supposed to take place. Some big showpiece, lots of fireworks. Oh! And there’s something about the Vice President too. He’s… um, involved somehow? I wasn’t exactly privy to the details, you see, just enough to sell the story.”
Tony’s expression darkened. “The Vice President? You sure about that?”
“Well, yes, I think so,” Trevor replied, his voice lilting with uncertainty. “He mentioned it during one of our rehearsals. Said it was a crucial part of the plan. Is that… important?”
Harry sighed heavily. “Extremely.” He leaned in, his voice sharp. “Anything else, Trevor? Anything you’ve conveniently forgotten to mention?”
Trevor squirmed under their combined scrutiny. “I don’t think so? I mean, I’ve told you about the Norco, the Vice President… oh, and the speedboat! Did I mention the speedboat?”
Harry waved his wand, muttering a quick charm, and Trevor slumped back onto the couch, fast asleep.
“Finally,” Tony muttered, rubbing his temples.
Tony tapped his communicator, connecting to a secure line. After a few moments, a voice answered. “This is the Vice President.”
“Sir, this is Tony Stark,” Tony said urgently.
There was a slight pause before the Vice President replied, his voice tinged with surprise. “Mr. Stark? To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Tony didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “Sir, I’m calling because we’ve uncovered intel suggesting you’re about to be drawn into the Mandarin campaign. We’ve reason to believe your life and the presidents may be at risk.”
The Vice President chuckled lightly, a sound that didn’t sit well with Tony. “Mr. Stark, I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I’m in no immediate danger. I’m surrounded by the Agency’s finest, and the President himself is safe with Colonel Rhodes. We’ve got everything under control.”
Tony let a sigh of relief. “Colonel Rhodes is with the president.”
“Yes,” the Vice President confirmed. “He’s been a constant presence these past few days, ensuring the President’s safety personally. We couldn’t ask for better protection.”
“Right. Of course.” Tony replied.
“Mr. Stark,” the Vice President continued, “I appreciate your vigilance, but I assure you, we’re handling the situation. No need for concern. The Mandarin is the US government’s top concern. We are doing everything in our capacity to locate him.”
“Understood, sir. Stay safe.” Tony said as he ended the call and turned to Harry.
“You want to give the house a once-over to make sure we have everything?” Harry suggested.
Tony nodded. “Yeah. Let’s make sure we’re not leaving behind anything important. Rhodey is with the President for now and we can go after Killian once we are done with this place.”
The duo moved through the house to find Movie props and fake weapons scattered about, along with high-end broadcasting and recording equipment. Half-empty bottles of expensive liquor lined the shelves, and piles of costumes were strewn haphazardly across the furniture.
“This place screams wannabe Hollywood,” Tony muttered, brushing past a rack of fake beards. “If this is what global terror looks like, we’ve been seriously overestimating the bad guys.”
Harry smirked faintly but didn’t reply. Eventually, they found a narrow staircase leading to the basement.
“Bet this is where the real secrets are,” Tony quipped as they walked down. Unlike the garish extravagance upstairs, the basement was stark and industrial, with bare concrete walls and a faint metallic tang in the air.
As they moved deeper into the underground section, they passed a row of cells. Most were empty, their metal bars rusted and unused. But at the far end of the corridor, they stopped dead in their tracks.
“Tony,” Harry said, Inside the final cell, slumped against the wall, was Rhodey with his arms bound tightly.
“Rhodey?” Tony’s voice cracked as he rushed to the bars.
Rhodey’s head lolled slightly, and he groaned weakly. “T-Tony?” he rasped, blinking blearily.
Harry immediately raised his hand, casting a series of detection spells over the cell. “No traps or alarms,” he confirmed.
“Hold on, buddy,” Tony said, his voice shaking as he fired a concentrated blast, disintegrating the lock.
Harry stepped inside and took out a small vial of restorative potion from his robes. “Here, drink this,” he said, helping Rhodey sip it carefully.
“How long have you been here?” Tony asked, his voice tight with anger.
“A few days,” Rhodey said, wincing as he adjusted his position. “After the Chinese Theater bombing, I was assigned as permanent security for the president. But within the first two hours of taking on that role, my suit got hacked.”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “Hacked? By who?”
Rhodey shook his head. “I don’t know exactly. But the suit brought itself here. Next thing I knew, I was knocked out and woke up here.” He looked directly at Tony, his expression grim. “There’s been an imposter in my suit guarding the president this whole time.”
“With AIM doing the rebrand, they might have installed a few back doors to the suit to remote control it. Similar to what Vanko did.” Tony replied
Harry exchanged a sharp glance with Tony. “We’ve been played really badly this time.”
Rhodey nodded. “Everyone trusts the Iron Patriot. No one would ever suspect otherwise.”
Harry rested a hand on Rhodey’s shoulder. “For now, let’s get you out of here. We’ll sort this out and make sure they pay for what they’ve done.”
Tony activated his communicator. “Nat, Clint, get ready. We’re bringing Rhodey back to the mansion. And once we’re there, we’re having a very long conversation with Maya Hansen.”
