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The Love of Ivan	By : miladygrimm Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Iron Man Views: 3144 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Iron Man 2, X-men (comics) Omega Red, Marvel, or Paramount Pictures, nor do I own any of the characters from the comics or the movies, this is a work of fiction and I do not profit from these writings.

Chapter List
- 7
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((Once again, thank you to my fans, Gothicpug, LadyAura, and everyone for all your amazing words...you all are awesome.))
“A girl?” Pepper Potts said watching Tony lean over one of his pretty porcelain sinks and wash blood out from his nose. “Vanko didn’t do this to you?”
“Yeah…uhhh no.” Tony thought back to the short and curvy female in unflattering scrubs. “Definitely female. I admit I’ve been slapped a couple of times before. But this is the first time I’ve been hit with a bedpan. Heck of a swing for a girl.” He said in his signature rambling way. “She got me right across the nose and stepped over me like a pile of dirty laundry.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.” Pepper said reaching for a towel, making a note to have it replaced because those blood stains were never going to come out.
“Uhh well you could make one of those cute girl sounds. You know the sounds all the girls make when their super hero boyfriend gets hurt.” Tony smirked up at Pepper and then winced. Damn his nose hurt.
Pepper frowned at him, “Uh-huh. Speaking of boyfriends…”
“Yeah, I didn’t know Ivan had a way with the ladies either. But she helped him.”
“She could have been coerced.”
“Mmm.” Tony frowned thinking it over. The little vixen came out of nowhere, smacking him across the face with a swing that would have made Grace Jones proud. Women didn’t do that when coerced. They did that when something mattered. “No. I don’t think so. She was in on it.”
Pepper knew better than to argue when Tony latched on to an idea. “Alright, well now what are you going to do?”
“First I am going to get a nice drink. Then I’m going to take a shower.”
“And then?”
“Then I’m going to do some work.”
Pepper sighed. “Alright. Try not to bleed all over your desk.”
“I’m not making any promises.”
~
Sylvia’s heart was pounding in her chest. It was almost twenty hours after she and Ivan had fled the hospital. She had turned on the tv to see her face plastered alongside his with ‘wanted’ and ‘armed and dangerous’ attached to them.
Sylvia had never been considered armed and dangerous. It made her stomach do little flip flops. She was sitting alone in a motel room listening to the cars along a highway hoping to god that Ivan was okay. When she asked him where he was going he had told her he was taking care of some things, that he would be back in a few hours. He told her to rest.
Hah! Rest. How the hell was she supposed to rest when she didn’t know where Ivan was or what he was doing?
So she did the only thing she could do. She took a shower. She was sore as hell anyway. Her body had been pulverized in the best possible way, but pulverized none the less. She turned on the water, near as hot as it would go, and stepped beneath the spray.
Three hours. He’d been gone three hours and she didn’t know what to do with herself. She didn’t know if she should be upset or just trust that Ivan was doing what was best. Maybe both. She picked up the tiny travel sized shampoo and conditioner combo and dolloped some into her hand.
There was something therapeutic about a shower. The hot water washed everything away and cleared the mind. She was going to go to Russia. She didn’t know anything about Russia. Aside from what she’d seen in movies and most of those were mafia related crime things. She was pretty sure that not every person in Russia was part of organized crime….right? All the girls there were supposed to be tall and thin and blond. Gorgeous Scandinavian types, right? She looked down at herself and sighed. She sure as hell wasn’t skinny.
It wasn’t that Sylvia was fat either. She came from a healthy mix of German and Jewish genetics, all the women in her family were short and round; tending towards darker hair colors. Quite possibly the exact opposite of those lovely Scandinavian princesses. Why was he even interested in her when he came from the land of super models? Her brain began to spiral down a long line of paranoid thoughts. Starting with Ivan just using her to help him get away to pure male need.
Feeling thoroughly depressed she rinsed her hair and started to lather up with the tiny bar of soap.
~
As Sylvia was drying off she heard the door to the room finally unlock and she was thoroughly depressed. Her mind had begun to go dark places and she seemed incapable of stopping it. She had made up her mind five minutes ago. She would tell Ivan to go home alone. It would be safer that way. She wouldn’t hold him back. She wouldn’t mess him up. He could be free of this idea of a pushy overweight American woman.
He’d be happier that way.
She took a deep breath and prepared herself to tell Ivan that they would part. She looked down at the fake marble counter and tried to keep the tears back. “Ivan….I’ve been thinking.”
“Lady, we ain’t Ivan.”
Sylvia whirled around, two men stood there wearing similar outfits. Dark jeans, t-shirts, loose jackets, and sunglasses. The only difference between the two men was that one hand long blond hair pulled back into a tight braid the other had dark hair clipped very short. There was something about them that made her step backward. She was keenly aware of the fact that she wore only a simple white towel, which was a size too small.
“We are wondering where Ivan is.” The other one said tucking his thumbs in the brim of his pants. “We came looking…and we find you instead.”
The blond snapped the door shut and the darkness flooded the room. Sylvia took another step back and found herself bumping against the little counter. “Ivan isn’t here.”
“Yeah…we figured that one out for ourselves…but we hear that you are the one to talk to about him.”
Sylvia looked around her for something, anything, to protect herself with. No bedpans, no anything to smack across the face. The dark haired one moved forward and Sylvia felt like a caged animal. No clothes, no weapons. Fear rushed through her turning on senses she did not know she had. She could smell the sweat of the room, she saw stains on the carpet, she saw the window and door that were the only ways out…but they were beyond the two large men. She saw only one choice.
Sylvia dipped low and charged towards the bed trying to use it to spring board towards the door. She felt a hand clasped around her ankle and pulled her backwards. Stupidly she clutched at the little towel that hid her body, trying desperately to hold it in place. They had made no move towards rape but it was a fear imbedded in every woman. She felt strong hands pull her down the cheap coverlet of the bed and suddenly a knife was at her throat.
“Hold still,” the blond one hissed in her face. He smelled of cheap cigarettes and expensive beer. “You’re a cute little bitch, aren’t you?” He said gruffly. “But we ain’t here for that.” He pulled away slowly, keeping the knife next to her ear.
The blond one nodded to the brunette. The brunette snapped out a cell phone and dialed in a number.
“Mr. Hammer…Vanko ain’t here. But his lady is.”
She’d been with Ivan for all of a day and she was already dubbed his lady? Christ. So much for the independent woman. Wait…Hammer? Justin Hammer? Anyone who had heard of Tony Stark had heard of Justin Hammer. It was like knowing Microsoft as well as Macintosh. What did Justin Hammer want with Ivan? Well, Hammer was being blamed for Ivan’s robots going crazy and causing a chaos. Perhaps that was it.
The brunette continued talking into the cell. The blond waited. Sylvia held her breath.
“Yeah, I get it,” the brunette was saying. “She’ll make good bait.”
The two men exchanged a look, the blond reached around and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Sylvia said the only thing she could, “Where the hell were you keeping those?”
The blond surged forward and Sylvia tried to squirm away. The brunette moved around and gripped her wrists pushing them above her head. For a moment Sylvia was reminded of how Ivan held her in exactly the same place for entirely difference reasons.
She struggled kicking out with her foot wildly, landing a blow in one hard stomach. It had all the effect of a throwing a basketball at a wall. She felt her ankle grabbed and wrenched painfully to one side, the blond held it down with a kneel and slipped the a cuff around one wrist.
“Got off of me!” She cried out, trying to dislodge her arms from the iron grip of the two men.
The door crashed open.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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The Love of Ivan