Fake Hammer, Real Mole

The door closed behind him, leaving Chu Hang alone in the office.

S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ace agents really were useful.

Justin Hammer. Ivan Vanko.

The two of them were probably putting together a feast of revenge aimed at Tony Stark right about now.

A Drone army.

A modified War Machine.

Their ultimate goal was to tear Tony and his reputation to pieces at the Stark Expo's closing ceremony.

According to the script, Tony would turn the tide at the last moment. The hero would save the world, and the villain would go to prison.

Standard stuff.

But Chu Hang was not a spectator. He was Stark Industries' second-largest shareholder.

A terrorist attack right on his own doorstep, regardless of how it ended, would send the company's stock plummeting.

He had just pulled Tony back from the brink of self-destruction. He had no intention of watching his assets shrink because of an avoidable farce.

He did not like cleaning up messes.

He preferred stamping out Mars before the fire started.

Or letting the fire burn along the route he had drawn.

A thought gradually became clear in his mind.

He stood up, walked into the office's adjoining lounge, and locked the door behind him.

In front of the mirror, he closed his eyes.

Justin Hammer's slick, slightly neurotic face surfaced in his mind.

[Shapeshifting]

A series of faint, teeth-grinding sounds came from inside his body.

His bones contracted and his muscles rearranged themselves. He lost several centimeters in height, his once-straight back hunched slightly, giving off the insecurity of someone who had lived under pressure for years. His facial contours seemed to be kneaded by an invisible hand, rapidly changing shape.

A few seconds later, he opened his eyes.

The person in the mirror was no longer Chu Hang.

He was now a