3:20 AM – Heisenberg Building, New York City
Downstairs in the marble lobby, Pepper Potts stood with arms folded, lips drawn in a thin line. She wasn't smiling.
How long she had waited didn't matter. The moment Tony Stark, escorted by Happy Hogan, stumbled out of the private elevator, her pupils narrowed like twin laser beams.
"Let go of me, Happy! I'm fine! Just—just lemme explain the physics of... of vodka!" Tony slurred, dragging scuffed Louboutins that had once gleamed like mirrors.
Despite his inebriated state, the moment Tony saw Pepper, he froze.
"Damn it, Heisenberg—pour me another drink, if you—oh, Ma-god... Pepper?!"
Whip.
Tony stood up straighter than a Stark Industries rocket.
"What do you want, Mister Stark?" Pepper asked, voice like glass.
Tony tugged at his collar. "I... might've had... just a few too many."
Thud.
He collapsed onto the backseat of the waiting car.
Happy tried to follow, but Pepper blocked him with a raised hand. "You can take my car. I'll handle this. For once, he didn't bring home a scandal in stilettos."
Happy winced sympathetically at Tony's passed-out form. "Right. The keys are yours. And... good luck. You two deserve each other."
With that, he disappeared into the night.
Pepper sighed, slipped into the driver's seat of Tony's Koenigsegg Regera, and started the engine.
As the car pulled onto the street, Pepper blinked.
"Hey... am I seeing things, or is someone waving at us from mid-air?"
Tony groaned, cracked one eye open, and followed her gaze.
Of course—it was Heisenberg, hovering casually above the intersection like Superman on vacation, waving them off with a cocktail in one hand.
"Showoff," Tony muttered. "Can't let me have the spotlight for one night."
Then, as if answering a challenge, his Mark V suitcase armor deployed. Tony shot into the sky, armor assembling mid-air.
Pepper gasped as a gust of air rocked the convertible. "Tony?!"
The watching reporters lost it. Cameras flashed as Iron Man launched himself toward the levitating stranger.
BOOM!
A shockwave knocked over trash cans and sent hats flying.
Moments later, Iron Man crashed back into the car—gently pushed by a man in pajamas.
A man, it turned out, who was still floating.
"What the hell..." Pepper breathed.
The pajama-clad figure landed beside the car, hands raised. "Pepper Potts—ah, the backbone of Stark Industries. Sorry for the rough night. I'm Heisenberg. I may have over-served your genius fiancé."
"Over-served?" she repeated flatly. "Can I have him back?"
Heisenberg shrugged. "Sure, as long as he promises not to charge me like a drunk rhino again."
He floated backward, winked at Pepper, and flipped Tony the bird.
"Later, Stark. Don't drink and jet."
"Freakin'... squid-face..." Tony mumbled, barely conscious.
With a smirk, Heisenberg soared upward, leaving only wind and whispers behind.
Some paparazzi tried to chase, but he turned mid-air and called down, "Go photograph the billionaire in the backseat! Me? I've got my own headlines to write!"
A moment later, he disappeared behind the upper floors of the Heisenberg Building.
---
Hours Later – Heisenberg's Penthouse
The morning sun poured through floor-to-ceiling windows. Heisenberg sat up in bed, carefully moving aside the limbs of two stunning models.
"Whew," he muttered with a stretch. "Nothing like diplomacy... and cardio."
After brushing off the octopus-like security drone with ease, Heisenberg dove naked into the shimmering pool without a care in the world.
As the water enveloped him, he silently muttered to his system:
"What's the cost of cleaning up all traces of my bodily fluids?"
"0.62 square units of origin material," the system replied dryly.
"Do it."
Without waiting for further input or protest, Heisenberg authorized the system, causing a flicker of data deep within S.H.I.E.L.D.'s collection servers.
Poor system.
And poorer S.H.I.E.L.D...
By the next morning, every biological trace of Heisenberg—saliva, skin cells, genetic residue—was inexplicably gone. Their samples had simply... vanished.
But forget S.H.I.E.L.D. for now—back to Heisenberg.
After a few relaxing laps in the pool, Heisenberg noticed Barbara—his ever-efficient right hand—wrangling the two women he'd spent the night with.
Unsurprisingly, neither of them retained last night's allure. After a whole evening of keeping up with a Kryptonian-tier powerhouse, even the most vigorous individuals would be exhausted.
Barbara didn't waste time. She escorted them from the villa, accompanied by a pair of stern-faced female security officers. The women protested, still wrapped in expensive bedsheets, begging for a proper goodbye. But Barbara wasn't having it. She ordered her staff to remove them swiftly and discreetly.
Moments later, silence reclaimed the estate.
Barbara approached the poolside, towel in hand, her expression unreadable.
"Do you expect me to clean up after your personal messes every day?" she asked coolly.
"So... you'd rather be the mess?" Heisenberg grinned, rising effortlessly from the water.
Unbothered by modesty, he took the towel from her, dried off quickly, then wrapped it around his waist and strolled to a nearby lounge chair.
"I didn't think I'd see you like this," Barbara murmured. "You used to be such a force inside S.H.I.E.L.D. I thought you were planning to reshape the world."
"What did you expect me to do? Blow up the planet?" Heisenberg chuckled without turning around. "You should know better. Sunbathing is a sacred ritual."
He collapsed onto the chair, arms wide, soaking up the rays like a deity in repose.
"Your nightclub's a mess. Billy's been bugging me about the theme for the next issue."
"I do care." Heisenberg vanished for a second, reappearing beside a locker. He tossed a camera to her.
"There's a delightful photo of Tony Stark in there. Use it for the poster. The theme's 'Iron Age.'"
"You're terrible," Barbara smirked. "He looks like he's on the verge of tears."
"Zoom in from a different angle—he looks constipated."
"Tony Stark is going to hate you forever."
"And I'll sleep like a baby," Heisenberg said with a yawn.
---
While Heisenberg absorbed solar energy, Tony Stark stirred awake in his Malibu mansion.
He moved instinctively to untangle his arm from his bedmate's—an old habit from his womanizing days. But this time, he froze.
"Pepper?"
"Oh no."
Memories of the previous night hit him like a repulsor blast. So much for "never sleeping with someone you love," he thought.
Still, there was something... right about it.
They dressed and went about their morning routines without a word on last night. Everything felt natural, like they'd been together for years—despite it being their first night.
Later, over breakfast, Pepper glanced at Tony and frowned.
"Tony... your chest..."
She'd seen his arc reactor before—many times, in fact. But now, something was off. The reactor's usual glow was laced with dark, spidery veins.
Tony hesitated, then brushed it off.
"Just a minor issue. Nothing I can't fix."
"You're a terrible liar, Tony."
"But you're a wonderful angel. Trust me."
Pepper dropped the subject. She knew better than to push him—he'd just shut down. If she wanted answers, she'd ask JARVIS later.
Instead, she switched gears.
"That man last night... the one who flew in and overpowered your armor—was he a friend?"
Tony's expression hardened. He paused before responding.
"'Friend' isn't the word. We're not allies. Honestly... we might be enemies."
"He didn't look like an enemy last night."
"That was last night," Tony muttered. "He has no mercy. No restraint. We're nothing alike."
He clapped his hands. The TV turned on, cycling through news coverage of the events.
Heisenberg's face was everywhere.
In one clip, he effortlessly dismantled Whiplash. In another, he shoved Tony—Iron Man—back into his own car like he was nothing.
Tony rewound the footage of Whiplash's defeat.
"If it were me, I'd take him down and let the courts deal with him. But Heisenberg? He kills without a blink. He doesn't care."
He leaned back, rubbing his temples as his headache worsened.
Pepper quietly moved closer, gently massaging his head.
"We all loved Superman growing up," Tony continued. "But no one actually wants a god living among men."
He looked toward the screen, the sunlight casting sharp lines across his face.
"And Heisenberg... he's not Superman. Not even close. No compassion. No purpose but his own. He's not our savior. He's a rogue god. A tyrant in the making. And that makes him more dangerous than Superman ever was."