Tony Stark's Mark 3 was built for aerodynamics. It was built for speed. It was built for style.
It was not built to be a punching bag for a two-ton walking tank.
CRUNCH.
Obadiah Stane's massive hydraulic foot slammed down onto Tony's chest plate.
"Tony!" Obadiah roared, his voice distorted by the Iron Monger's speakers. "You always did prefer form over function! This suit is a toy! A shiny, expensive toy!"
"And toys break!"
STOMP.
Tony groaned, tasting blood. The shock absorbers were overwhelmed. His ribs felt like they were cracking.
"Jarvis," Tony wheezed. "Status."
"Critical failure in chest repulsor," Jarvis reported calmly. "Structural integrity at 40%. Recommend immediate evacuation."
"Evacuation?" Tony scoffed, struggling to push the massive foot off him. "I'm a little pinned down at the moment!"
"Give me the designs!" Obadiah demanded, leaning down. The Iron Monger's faceplate was open, revealing his manic, sweating face. "Or I'll peel you out of that can like a sardine!"
Tony fired a repulsor blast from his hand, hitting Obadiah in the shoulder. It did nothing but scorch the paint.
"Pathetic," Obadiah sneered. He grabbed Tony by the head and threw him across the asphalt.
Tony skipped like a stone, crashing through a brick wall and landing in a pile of rubble.
"He's too strong," Tony realized, his vision blurring. "He's too heavy. I can't grapple with him."
"This is physics," Tony thought bitterly. "Mass times acceleration. He has more mass. I need more acceleration."
But Obadiah didn't give him time to accelerate. The Iron Monger charged, crashing through the wall like the Kool-Aid Man from hell.
"You and your father," Obadiah ranted, grabbing Tony again. "So arrogant! So self-righteous! You think you're gods because you can do math?"
"I am the god here, Tony! I have the power! I have the will!"
He lifted Tony high into the air.
"And now, I'm going to drop you."
"Say goodbye, Tony."
Tony closed his eyes, bracing for the impact. He was out of power. Out of options.
"Jarvis," Tony whispered. "Divert all power to life support."
"Goodbye, Sir."
But the drop never came.
Instead, a voice floated down from above. Clear. Calm. And annoyingly cheerful.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Invincible Iron Man."
Tony's eyes snapped open.
Hovering ten feet above them, arms crossed, looking like he was just out for a stroll, was Lucas Chen.
He wasn't wearing a suit. Just jeans and a t-shirt. But the air around him hummed with power.
"Lucas?" Tony gasped. "You actually came?"
"Of course," Lucas smiled, adjusting his glasses. "I heard a commotion. Super hearing, remember?"
(He didn't mention the text from Fury. Or the stock dip.)
Obadiah looked up, confused. The sensors on the Iron Monger were going haywire.
"Who is this?" Obadiah demanded. "Another one of your playmates, Tony?"
"Put him down, bald guy," Lucas said, his tone shifting from playful to cold. "Or I'll turn that suit into a soda can."
"You?" Obadiah laughed. "You're just a boy! A boy without armor!"
"Armor is for people who can get hurt," Lucas said simply.
"Do you need a hand, Tony?" Lucas asked, looking down at the battered Iron Man.
"Yes!" Tony shouted, abandoning all pride. "A little help here!"
"My consulting fee is expensive," Lucas teased.
"Ten million!" Tony yelled. "I'll give you ten million dollars! Just get this giant metal tick off me!"
"Deal," Lucas grinned.
BOOM.
Lucas moved. He didn't fly. He vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he was in front of Obadiah.
He didn't punch. He just placed one hand on the Iron Monger's chest plate.
And pushed.
SCREECH!
The massive, two-ton suit was launched backward as if hit by a freight train. It flew fifty feet through the air, crashing into a parked fuel truck.
KA-BOOM!
The explosion lit up the night sky.
Tony fell to the ground, landing in a heap.
"Ten million," Lucas reminded him, floating down to land softly beside him. "Plus tax."
"Worth every penny," Tony groaned, flipping up his faceplate. "Now... can you do that again?"
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