Iron Monger's mechanical right arm emitted a harsh hydraulic hiss, and the missile launch bay unfolded with a sharp click. Dozens of micro-missiles locked onto Tony Stark simultaneously.
"Try this, Tony Stark!"
A shrill, sinister laugh crackled through the loudspeaker.
"Jarvis, full-power evasion!"
Tony Stark shouted from inside his suit. The thrusters roared to life, and the golden-red figure spun through the air with astonishing agility.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM—!!
Missiles detonated one after another, erupting into massive fireballs across the street. The shockwaves shattered windows in the surrounding buildings.
Tony executed a flawless barrel roll to dodge three missiles—but as he turned, the fourth struck the thruster on his right leg.
BOOM!!!!
The explosion's shockwave hurled him backward. Tony tumbled through the air and crashed hard onto the pavement, skidding more than ten meters before coming to a stop.
Ding! Ding! Ding…
Alarms blared frantically inside his helmet, and multiple damage warnings flashed across the HUD.
"Sir, you've sustained multiple contusions…"
"Ahem… Yeah! I noticed that too…"
Tony tried to push himself up—but a sharp, grating sound of twisting metal cut through the air above him.
A car, blown off its wheels by the blast, hurtled toward him! He instinctively rolled aside—but he was a split second too slow—
CRASH—!
"Aaah—!"
The vehicle slammed down onto his left arm, and the joints of his battle suit groaned under the crushing weight.
"Jarvis, boost power to the left arm!"
"Apologies, sir. The left-arm hydraulic system is compromised. Power output is down to 17%."
Not far away, Peter Parker watched, wide-eyed, as Tony Stark struggled in dire straits.
"That's Iron Man! The one from the news—the guy fighting terrorists in the Middle East!"
His fingers clenched the edge of the newsstand until his knuckles turned white. Suddenly, he yanked off his coat and pulled it over his head and face.
"I have to help him!"
"Wait—!"
Damian lunged to stop him, but Peter's sudden movement threw him off balance. Damian staggered backward, and his shoulder let out a sharp crack.
"Hiss—! Calm down! Do you really think your skull can take a direct hit from a missile?! Can't you use that brain of yours for once?"
Gritting his teeth, Damian grabbed his dislocated right arm with his left hand and gave it a swift, practiced yank. A crisp click signaled the joint snapping back into place.
Peter froze, realizing how reckless he'd been. "Sorry, sorry! I got carried away… But I can't just stand here and watch Iron Man get pounded, right?!"
Damian massaged his sore shoulder, quickly scanned the battlefield, then muttered under his breath:
"That oversized tin can's got all his attention on Iron Man. That gives us an opening…"
"Got it! I'm with you!"
Peter nodded firmly, and the two split up without another word.
At that moment, Iron Monger stomped toward Tony Stark, his massive mechanical arm shifting and reconfiguring. A rotating cannon emerged from within, its barrel locking onto its target.
"It's time to say goodbye to this world, Tony Stark!"
Tony Stark struggled, pointed his still-free right hand at Iron Monger, and shouted:
"Jarvis, concentrate all the remaining energy into the hand cannon!"
"Sir, the energy is insufficient. We expect only superficial damage."
"Damn it!"
Swoosh—bang!
Suddenly, a concrete block struck the targeting sensor on Iron Monger's right arm with pinpoint accuracy, sending sparks flying.
"Who?!"
Iron Monger whirled around angrily and saw a young man with his face covered by a plaid shirt squatting on the roof of a car, shouting at him:
"Hey, you big tin can over there! Which scrap yard did you crawl out of?! Is it because you're too ugly that no one wants to buy you?
Take my advice—don't feel inferior just because you're a pile of scrap metal good for nothing but dismantling and recycling! You waste air while you're alive and waste land when you're dead!
At least your self-assessment is spot-on! You've got a crystal-clear understanding of your own place in the world! You—"
"Court death!"
Iron Monger's electronic voice crackled with rage.
He raised his right arm; the missile launcher clicked into position—but the damaged targeting system rendered the weapon useless.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Three micro-missiles shot out at a wild angle, detonating in fireballs across the street—but didn't so much as graze Peter Parker's sleeve.
"Don't lose heart, big guy! Take a breather first. I know this isn't your A-game~"
Peter Parker leapt nimbly off the car roof and rolled away just as Iron Monger switched to machine-gun mode.
Da-da-da—!!
Bullets chased his footsteps but always lagged a beat behind, kicking up gravel across the road.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Iron Monger finally snapped. With a thunderous stomp, his massive metal feet cracked the asphalt as he charged forward.
"I'm going to grind you into paste!" he roared, lunging toward Peter.
Peter grinned, spun on his heel, and bolted.
He weaved through traffic like a nimble monkey, occasionally glancing back to taunt his pursuer.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the street, Damian scrambled onto the cab of a Daimler truck parked at the curb. The driver's seat was empty—and the key was still in the ignition.
"How does this thing work…?"
Muttering under his breath, Damian scanned the dashboard, tossed a baseball bat off the passenger seat, took a deep breath, and turned the key.
Vroom—!
The diesel engine roared to life. His gear shifts were clumsy, but the truck rumbled forward smoothly.
Through the rearview mirror, he spotted Peter luring Iron Monger toward a distant intersection.
"Life… can you please let me go this time?
In my next life, I just want to be a child who never grows up—
with someone to warm me, someone to rely on,
without too many worries…
and with the most innocent eraser,
I can wipe away all the disputes in life…"
A spoonful of sauce~
Damian hummed the tune and slammed the gearshift into top gear with his right hand.
Ahead, Peter Parker made a sharp turn. Iron Monger, caught by inertia, stumbled forward a few extra steps.
Just then—
BEEEEEP!
Amid the deafening roar of the engine, the Daimler truck burst from the side street like a runaway bull!
At the last second, Damian adjusted his aim—and the truck's right front fender slammed hard into Iron Monger's waist.
"Go talk to my insurance!!"
CRASH!!!
The shriek of twisting metal filled the air. A fully loaded 20-ton truck, hurtling at 80 miles per hour, sent Iron Monger flying over ten meters.
But Damian didn't let up. He kept his foot on the accelerator, driving the truck forward and pinning Iron Monger against the roadside building.
SMASH!!
Iron Monger crashed into the concrete wall. The truck's front crumpled like paper, the airbags exploded outward—but the engine kept roaring.
Cough! Cough! Cough!
Gritting his teeth against the pain and dizziness, Damian jammed the baseball bat under the accelerator pedal, kicked open the door, and leapt out.
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