At the same time, the cabin door swung open, and several tall, dark skinned men stepped out.
"Hey! Caught ourselves a fat lamb. Get over here and take a look!" the driver leaned out the window and shouted.
The moment they heard him, their faces lit up with excitement. They grabbed whatever weapons they had and hurried over.
"Perfect timing. I've been eating bland food for days, my mouth's about to grow feathers. We're gonna carve this one up properly!"
"Let me see this 'fat lamb.' Oh? A foreigner?"
Their expressions turned ugly as they surrounded Vincent.
Did Vincent look like he was afraid of them?
A mocking smile tugged at his lips as he stared at the driver in front. "So you're planning to rob me?"
"Borrowing a little spending money, that's all. No need to make it sound so formal," the driver said with a shameless grin, but the machete in his hand was already pressed against Vincent's neck.
The threat couldn't have been clearer.
"Then you're going to be disappointed," Vincent said. "I don't have money. And also…"
As he spoke, he grabbed the machete clamped to his throat with one hand.
"What? Then you're gonna suffer a bit!" The driver flew into a rage and yanked hard, trying to pull the blade back.
His face changed instantly.
The machete was locked in Vincent's grip like it had been caught by a steel vise. It didn't budge, not even a fraction.
The driver threw the car door open, rolled out, and shouted, "He's trained! Get your pieces!"
The men rushing over all paled. They hurriedly pulled revolvers from their pockets, aimed at Vincent, and snarled, "Ever seen this? You'd better behave, or I'll put a hole in your forehead!"
"Oh?" Vincent raised an eyebrow, still holding the machete. His fingers tightened slightly.
Crack.
The sound of metal snapping made their teeth ache.
Then several jagged shards shot from Vincent's hand like darts, punching clean through the men's thighs.
Screams erupted. They clutched their bleeding legs and rolled on the ground in agony.
The driver's face went even whiter. He bent to snatch up a revolver that had fallen, but his vision blurred.
The gun was gone.
He looked up and saw the revolver already in Vincent's hand.
"Don't, don't shoot! I know I was wrong! Don't shoot! Please, spare me!" The driver dropped to his knees with a thud, begging nonstop.
Vincent toyed with the revolver, amused. "This thing, and you wanted to 'put a hole' in me?"
In the driver's stunned stare, Vincent casually aimed the barrel at his own palm.
Bang!
A burst of sparks spat from the muzzle, then fizzled out.
The expected scene never came.
Vincent's hand wasn't pierced at all.
Instead, the revolver detonated in his grip from the blocked barrel. The blast was deafening, and the cylinder popped out instantly.
"Looks like even scratching me is a bit of a stretch," Vincent said, shaking his head. He squeezed lightly and crushed what was left of the revolver into a lump of metal.
Then he looked down at the driver. "Now, take me to Stark Industries."
The driver stared at the mangled metal ball and swallowed hard.
What kind of monster had he tried to rob today?
He nodded so quickly it was almost desperate. He genuinely felt that if Vincent wanted to, he could crush a human body with his bare hands just as easily.
At last, Vincent arrived at Stark Tower.
The moment he stepped out, the driver slammed the accelerator and vanished down the street like his life depended on it.
Watching the man flee as if he'd punched through the gas pedal, Vincent couldn't help sighing.
What a wholesome place.
Then he started searching for Autumn.
Sure enough, she was leaning against a wall nearby, boredly watching the cars go by.
Such an obedient little girl.
Vincent smiled. Only now did it feel like they had truly linked up.
Next, his top priority was improving Autumn's ability to protect herself.
She wasn't weak by any means.
But in a Forbidden Zone dominated by mutations and firepower, it still wasn't enough.
"I just don't know how I'm supposed to 'borrow' a Mark IV from Stark without it turning into a hassle," Vincent muttered.
He gently tapped Autumn's shoulder, signaling for her to stay put and wait.
Then he bent his knees and jumped.
The concrete beneath his feet cracked instantly, spiderweb fractures spreading several meters.
In a single leap, he launched himself to the rooftop of Stark Industries.
"Sir, apologies for interrupting your dinner," JARVIS said. "An intruder has entered the building."
Tony Stark was in the middle of a candlelit dinner with Pepper Potts. JARVIS's voice cut right through it.
Tony frowned, annoyed. "Throw him out."
"I'm sorry, sir," JARVIS replied, almost human in its apologetic tone. "Security has failed to remove him. He is now… outside the door."
"What?" Tony's face changed. He soothed Pepper with a quick gesture, then waved his hand sharply.
Several mechanical arms rose from the floor and began assembling the armor around him.
Halfway through the assembly, Tony's eyes widened.
The heavy metal door suddenly glowed red, then began to warp and deform.
Tony raised his arm and fired.
A beam blasted out of the partially assembled gauntlet, and the explosion made the entire building tremble.
The armor snapped into place in a few rapid motions. Two or three beats later, it was complete.
"Sir," JARVIS reported through the earpiece, "life signs detected. The repulsor blast does not appear to have had much effect."
JARVIS activated thermal imaging.
Through the smoke, a man was walking forward at an unhurried pace.
"Mr. Stark," Vincent said, waving a hand to disperse the smoke, "that welcome gift wasn't exactly polite."
"Who are you?" Tony demanded coldly. He could feel it, this was a real threat.
Vincent waved him off. "Just a passerby. Don't worry about it."
"I'm here to borrow something."
Tony lifted an eyebrow. "You blow up my door and call it borrowing? Borrow what?"
Vincent smiled. "I'm borrowing one of your Iron Man suits."
Tony's expression sharpened. "And if I don't lend it?"
"You will," Vincent said calmly.
"I won't," Tony snapped, stubborn as ever.
"Then I'll take it by force."
Huh?
For a split second, Tony didn't even process what "by force" meant.
Then he saw Vincent's eyes, cold and absolute, and suddenly understood.
This "borrowing" wasn't the same kind of borrowing he was thinking of.
Tony shifted his stance. The armor's output quietly ramped to maximum.
He stared at Vincent, wary.
This guy had somehow melted through a reinforced metal door and shrugged off a repulsor beam like it was nothing.
Not exactly an easy target.
A figure flashed through Tony's mind.
Dr. Banner?
Not Banner himself, but Banner after he lost control, the big green version.
"This is going to be ugly," Tony muttered. "JARVIS, analysis complete?"
"Apologies, sir," JARVIS replied. "No matching data found in the database for this target."
Tony's jaw tightened.
"Then we're doing this the hard way."