Action always followed thought. That was Tony's style.
Once he realized that study alone wasn't enough and that real combat was necessary, he immediately started looking for suitable enemies to test both his armor and his magic.
At that moment, a news broadcast caught his eye.
Terrorists in Afghanistan.
Perfect timing.
He could test combat performance, refine magical effects, and get a bit of payback at the same time.
Where else could he find such a convenient target?
Especially one delivered straight to him.
So the next day, Morin-still buried in the library, maintaining his state of simultaneously reading a hundred magic books-saw Tony step out of a portal.
He was wearing armor.
Gold and red.
Flashy.
Also visibly damaged.
"Are those bullet holes?" Morin glanced once, then looked away, his tone flat.
"Yeah. Got sprayed by a couple of aircraft-mounted machine guns," Tony exhaled. "The material still isn't good enough. Next time, straight to aerospace-grade gold-titanium alloy."
"It doesn't seem to be your scheduled study time yet," Morin said. "Of course, if you want to start early. Or extend today's session."
"No. Absolutely not. Thank you," Tony rejected immediately. One hour a day was already pushing his limits. Even with a perfect body and mind, there was still a cap to how much information he could absorb. "I just came here to shake off two jets."
"So your mastery of magic is already at this level," Morin said, nodding slightly. "You can use portal spells proficiently now."
That reminded him of Doctor Strange.
The gap between people really was absurd.
In the original story, Strange studied for ages. In the end, the Ancient One had practically thrown him off a cliff in the Himalayas, using his life as leverage to force him to grasp the spell.
Tony, meanwhile, had studied for "one hour" under partial guidance and self-study.
And by the next day, he could already use it smoothly.
It was like an elementary school student self-studying all of middle and high school in one day and scoring perfectly.
Two words.
Monstrous talent.
Morin stayed calm.
Talent didn't concern him.
As long as Tony paid for videos, everything was fine.
Besides, Tony couldn't beat him.
Robbery wasn't an option.
And Tony would never refuse to buy footage of his own embarrassing moments.
That money was trivial to Tony anyway.
Probably just tuition.
If not for experience points, Morin wouldn't even care where it came from.
Still...
Tony had just drawn a circle and vanished midair.
Those pilots must have been completely confused.
At the same time, high in the sky, one of the F-15 pilots was indeed confused.
"I saw it! Something red! Like a person! It was just below you!"
"But where is he now?" The other pilot was baffled. He'd never heard his partner sound like this before. He rolled the aircraft several times.
Nothing.
"I saw him draw a circle and disappear! Sparks! He stepped inside and was gone!"
The pilot himself felt like he'd seen a ghost.
"Reconfirm radar and visual status. Clear the area and return to base."
Inside the airbase, Colonel Rhodes frowned.
He trusted his pilots.
Radar contact hadn't been a fluke.
And yet now it was gone.
His thoughts drifted.
To Tony.
To certain things Tony had said before.
To his escape methods.
There was no evidence.
But instinctively, he knew.
This was exactly the kind of thing Tony would do.
So he quietly picked up the phone.
Meanwhile, in the Himalayas, Tony was still bragging to Morin when JARVIS spoke.
"Sir, incoming call from Mr. James Rhodes. Shall I connect?"
"Connect-wait, don't connect yet!"
Tony hurriedly told Morin he'd be back at the usual time that evening, opened another portal, returned home, and only then answered.
"Hello?"
"Do you know the origin of the unidentified aircraft that violated restricted airspace earlier?"
"No idea."
"When did you build it?"
"I said I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh please," Rhodes sneered. "You think you can hide things from me? I'll be at your villa in ten minutes."
"Fine! It was me! Ow!"
"What are you yelling about?"
"First time wearing it. Suit's a bit tight."
Tony winced as robotic arms began dismantling the dented Mark II. He'd planned ahead, so he hadn't been turned into a sieve, but deformed fasteners made removal painful.
Harder to take off than to put on.
As if on cue, Pepper Potts came down to the basement.
She entered.
Saw Tony stripping armor.
And screamed.
"Calm down! Calm down! It's just... a Halloween costume!"
"Thank you for that explanation," Pepper said flatly. "Are those bullet holes?"
...
"Tony Stark has upgraded the armor..."
The information reached Zola almost immediately.
During the recent cyber conflict, Zola had acquired enormous amounts of data. Some access points remained undiscovered even now.
Including one in the Air Force.
Zola had suffered losses.
He wasn't a true AI like Ultron or Vision. Hardware limited his output. Some databases had been breached.
But important data was always layered.
What he lost looked critical.
But tracing it led to SHIELD.
Clean data.
Not Hydra's.
After all, SHIELD and Hydra were intertwined.
Parasite and host.
In the original timeline, when SHIELD's files were exposed, both collapsed overnight.
Every artery severed at once.
Against state machinery, Hydra was nothing.
Cut one head, two grow back.
Cut all heads at once?
Minced meat doesn't regenerate.
Absolute power had limits.
Hydra wasn't there yet.
For now, it thrived.
Backed by the UN Security Council.
Funds siphoned from SHIELD, the UN, and criminal collaborators.
Logically, such siphoning should've been obvious.
If the director actually watched the money.
But the director was Nick Fury.
Dark skin.
Darker heart.
Darkest hands.
A man who inflated ten thousand into a hundred thousand without blinking.
That was how he built his fortune.
A vehicle that survived attacks with working air conditioning.
Safe houses across major cities.
Dozens in New York alone.
Maintenance.
Weapons.
Utilities.
A bottomless pit.
If burning money had rankings, Fury would be first.
He likely embezzled more than Hydra ever did.
And because Fury embezzled so freely, SHIELD's finances became a perfect sieve.
Strict on the surface.
Full of holes underneath.
Hydra feasted.
Simple causality.
Fury enabled Hydra's growth.
Hydra's greatest asset.
Ironically, Hydra never realized it.
Neither did Zola.
Everyone believed their concealment was flawless.
"Tony Stark's combat capability has increased significantly."
Zola calculated rapidly.
The Winter Soldier had strength, firearms, a mechanical arm.
But against a prepared Tony in armor?
Odds were low.
Man versus machine.
If they wanted Tony alive, frontal assault was impossible.
They needed a single strike.
Zero reaction time.
Instant incapacitation.
Then extraction.
Timing.
Location.
Zola thought.
Tony Stark stayed up late.
Patterns confirmed.
Time window set.
Three to four in the morning.
Deep sleep.
Location?
The villa.
Tony hadn't left in days.
Pepper Potts was present.
But Zola dismissed kidnapping leverage.
Tony wasn't that sentimental.
Plan finalized.
Break in.
Strike fast.
Extract.
In Zola's calculations-
This was a guaranteed victory.