*Tony adjusted his suit as he walked around. The annual Stark Industries charity gala glittered around him with politicians, CEOs, celebrities, and the usual social climbers circulating with champagne flutes and forced smiles.* 

*His staff had insisted he make an appearance. “Smile, shake hands, write a check, go home,” they'd said. He was halfway through the second glass of something expensive when the windows exploded inward.*

*Shards of glass rained across the marble floor. Screams rang our A crimson armored figure tore through the far wall in a shriek of thrusters and tearing steel: the Crimson Dynamo. The Russian armor’s gauntlets already glowed with building plasma.*  

*“Stark!” the digitized voice boomed. “Your capitalist ways end tonight!”*

*Tony didn’t bother with a witty reply. He was already moving.*  

*A hidden panel in his tuxedo vest snapped open. Nanites surged across his body in a red and gold wave, forming his armor in under two seconds. Repulsors flared as he launched upward, intercepting a plasma bolt meant for a cluster of guests near the ice sculpture. The blast scattered across his chest plate in a flare of orange energy.*

*“Full vacuation protocols. Mark the exits, guide civilians to the service corridors. And get me a line to Rhodey.”*

*The armor was quick to reply. "Done, boss. Colonel Rhodes is airborne..ETA ninety seconds.”*

*Tony punched through a second volley, the impact rattling his teeth. The Dynamo was stronger than the last time they’d crossed paths. Newer reactors, tighter targeting. Tony ducked a sweeping energy beam that carved a molten line across the ballroom floor, then returned fire with a precision repulsor shot that forced the crimson armor to stagger.*

*Civilians were still trapped between overturned tables and collapsing decor. Tony dropped low, shielding a group with his body as debris rained down. A mother clutched her young son, an elderly senator crawled behind a shattered column. Every second he spent trading blows was another second someone could get hurt.*

*“Rhodey,” Tony said over the private channel, voice tight, “I need you. Now. Dynamo’s here and I’m juggling a room full of soft targets.”*

*“On approach. Clear me a landing zone.”*

*The skylight above the central dance floor detonated outward. War Machine plummeted through the opening in a controlled freefall, boots slamming into the marble hard enough to crack it. Red targeting lasers swept the room. The twin shoulder mounted cannons locked onto the Crimson Dynamo.*

*“Miss me?” Rhodey’s voice crackled through the external speakers.*

*“You’re late,” Tony shot back, already turning toward the nearest cluster of civilians. “Keep him busy. I’ve got the people.”*

*War Machine opened fire. The ballroom was filled with various kinds of kinetic rounds and micro missiles. Dynamo raised both arms, projecting a shimmering energy barrier that absorbed the first wave, then countered with a lance of energyvthat forced Rhodey into a hard lateral boost. The two armored figures slammed into each other mid air, the impact shaking the remaining chandeliers.*

*Tony used the chaos. He flew low and fast, scooping people clear of the blast radius, guiding them toward the reinforced service exits that had unlocked. A young waiter froze in the open; Tony grabbed him by the collar and rocketed him behind a structural pillar just as a stray energy bolt scorched the floor where he’d stood.*  

*“Move! Service stairs, now!”*

*Above them, War Machine and the Crimson Dynamo traded punishing blows. Rhodey’s heavier armor absorbed impacts that would have staggered Iron Man, while his wrist mounted guns forced Dynamo to keep the energy shields up. Every time the Russian armor tried to target the civilians, Rhodey was there intercepting, ramming, unloading another barrage.*

*Tony cleared the last group through the exit, then banked hard back into the fight.*  

*“Rhodey, status?”*

*“He’s tough, but he’s starting to overheat the capacitors. One more concentrated push and we can crack that shell.”*

*Tony’s faceplate retracted just long enough for a sharp grin. “Then let’s finish this.”*

*Iron Man and War Machine moved in perfect tandem. Years of combat and friendship distilled into seamless coordination. Tony drew Dynamo’s fire with rapid, darting attacks while Rhodey hammered the armor’s weak points with sustained heavy ordnance. A final combined strike, a repulsor overload from Tony, shoulder mounted railgun from War Machine, punched through the crimson plating. Sparks and coolant sprayed. The Dynamo crashed to the floor, systems cascading into failure.*

*Silence fell over the ruined ballroom, broken only by distant sirens and the soft crackle of damaged electronics.*

*Tony landed beside Rhodey. Both armor suits still smoked faintly.*  

*“Nice of you to drop in,” Tony said.*

*Rhodey’s faceplate opened. James Rhodes looked over the wreckage, then at his friend. “Next time you host a party, maybe skip the open invitation to every armored maniac on the planet.”*

*Tony’s armor began to recede, nanites flowing back into the arcs on his chest. Around them, emergency lights painted the shattered crystal in red and blue.*  

*“Deal,” he said. “Drinks are on me. After we make sure everyone got out.”*

*War Machine’s thrusters hummed back to life. “Lead the way, Shellhead.”*

Double Trouble