Watching the Iron Monger's missiles close in, Tony felt a cold spike of despair. His damaged propulsion system couldn't give him the burst of speed he needed to evade.
Is this really how it ends? Dammit, if only the Arbiter were here! With his help, taking down this oversized tin can would be child's play.
Just as the thought crossed his mind—
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
The staccato roar of machine-gun fire echoed from the distance. The missiles chasing Tony blossomed into orange fireballs mid-air.
The resulting shockwave sent the Mark III tumbling. Tony struggled with his flickering thrusters, but he was still a long way from the safety of the roof.
Just as he was about to play the role of a high-altitude lawn dart hitting the concrete 50 stories below—
Thwip!
A web line slammed into his chest plate. Tony felt a massive surge of kinetic energy as he was unceremoniously yanked through the air and tossed onto the rooftop landing pad.
"Whew..."
Tony let out a long, shaky breath, his heart hammering against his ribs. He followed the web line back to its source and saw Ghost-Spider landing gracefully nearby.
Even through his adrenaline, the billionaire's "scout radar" flickered to life as he noted her athletic, lithe silhouette.
But before he could formulate a suave opening line, he felt a gaze. Tony turned his head and instinctively shivered.
Standing there was Peter Parker.
The Playboy's mind cleared instantly. He was a rogue, but he had principles: never mess with a friend's girl. And Peter wasn't just a friend—he was the guy who had saved his life in a cave halfway across the world.
Tony flipped open his faceplate to show his "innocent" face. "Pe—Arbiter! You finally showed up! Help a guy out, I'm really hitting a wall here!"
Seeing Tony's cheeky grin, Peter knew the man had already connected the dots between him and Gwen. Peter snorted and crossed his arms, playing the part of the indifferent observer.
"I can help. But my appearance fee isn't cheap. Have you thought about what the payment will be this time?"
Tony's eye twitched. If he hadn't known Peter's character—and if he hadn't just been caught "evaluating" Gwen—he might have argued. But knowing Peter's protective streak, he took a deep breath and grumbled:
"Fine! Once we scrap that heap of junk over there, I'll build you and Miss Ghost-Spider each a custom set of Stark armor. Any specs you want, plus lifetime servicing and updates. How's that?"
Satisfied, Peter finally uncrossed his arms. "That'll do."
The words had barely left his lips when he vanished.
Above them, the Vulture was banking for another strafing run on Tony when his vision blurred. An agonizing force slammed into his gut.
High in the air, the old man folded like a lawn chair and plummeted faster than he had dived, smashing into a distant wall with a sickening crunch.
If it weren't for the high-tech weave Kingpin had provided, his old bones would have turned to powder instantly.
Peter reappeared next to Tony and pressed his hand against the mangled, dented chest plate of the Mark III.
"Wait—" Tony started to protest, his mouth moving faster than his brain. He wanted to say he didn't need "healing" and could handle the shrapnel himself.
But as the white light flared, he realized his body wasn't changing at all. Instead, the Mark III was undergoing a miraculous "renovation."
Vicious gouges, deep bullet craters, and scorched wiring were restoring themselves at a visible speed.
It wasn't just the outer shell; the internal propulsion systems realigned, and the depleted weapon systems hummed as they were magically replenished.
Within seconds, the battered Mark III looked like it had just rolled off the assembly line, its red-and-gold finish gleaming flawlessly under the moon.
Beep-beep-beep!
Tony's HUD exploded with red exclamation marks. Jarvis's voice crackled in his ear, sounding uncharacteristically confused for an AI.
"Sir, detecting unknown energy intervention. Armor integrity... 100%." "All systems nominal. Energy reserves at maximum." "Data anomaly detected... Activating anti-virus protocols." "Scan complete. No anomalies found. Sir, I suspect my core heuristics are under attack by an unknown virus!"
Tony: "..."
Seriously, Jarvis? How do I explain to an AI that magic exists? Then he looked at his own still-aching ribs. And hey, Arbiter! You fixed the suit but left me sore? Could've used a little initiative there, buddy!
After a moment of frustrated silence, Tony gave up on explaining the unexplainable to his computer. "Jarvis, cancel the scan. Initiate combat mode."
He planned to take all the frustration he'd gathered from Peter and dump it directly onto Obadiah and his oversized tin suit.
"Understood, sir!"
With Jarvis's confirmation, the fully charged Mark III entered a battle stance.
WHOOSH!
The red-and-gold streak soared into the sky, meeting the Iron Monger head-on. Obadiah, convinced his larger suit meant superior performance, laughed and charged.
He was wrong.
The kinetic energy of a Mark III at full power was something a knock-off like the Monger couldn't match. The moment they collided, the Monger's inferior joints buckled.
The two steel giants tumbled off the Stark Tower roof, descending into a dazzling high-tech brawl in mid-air.
As the military and the NYPD watched the "Iron War" lighting up the night sky, the Sinister Six finally shook off their shock.
Bullseye looked at Peter, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Arbiter... we finally meet. I hope your body is tough enough to keep all six of us entertained!"
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