"Jarvis—flares, now!"
At Tony's command, two rows of launch pods flipped open on the Mark III's back. Dozens of glowing red countermeasure flares shot out in all directions.
Each flare released false heat signatures, instantly confusing several of the pursuing missiles. They collided midair in a chain of explosions, the blast triggering the rest of the flares in turn.
For a moment, the night sky bloomed like fireworks, briefly illuminating the city far below. In that deadly lightshow, Tony was still darting desperately through the sky, with a storm of missiles howling after him.
"Jarvis, divert and intercept. Take those things down!"
"Understood, sir."
At Tony's words, compartments on the Mark III's shoulders opened, revealing infrared targeters. Red dots locked onto the nearest missiles, and—
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Several micro-rockets launched, meeting the incoming missiles head-on. The resulting explosions lit the air in a violent flash.
But before Tony could even exhale in relief, one last missile punched through the smoke and slammed directly into him.
BOOM!
The blast sent him spinning out of control, plummeting toward the earth.
> "Warning! Propulsion systems damaged—eighty percent functionality lost. Weapons systems offline. Sir, I strongly recommend immediate landing. Current energy reserves are critically low."
Jarvis's calm voice filled his helmet as red warning lights flooded the HUD. Damage reports and flashing diagnostics spread across the display.
"How long can I keep flying?" Tony gritted his teeth.
"Estimated flight time: five minutes, sir."
"Start the countdown—five minutes."
A timer appeared in his visor. But instead of retreating, Tony angled upward—straight toward Obadiah.
The Iron Monger was still laughing, convinced his opponent had already been destroyed. Then something heavy slammed onto his back, locking its arms around his shoulders.
> "You're still alive?! You stubborn little bastard!"
> "Old man, it'll take more than you to kill me!"
"Jarvis—maximum thrust! Take us up!"
The Mark III's thrusters roared to full power, a burst of white fire launching both armors skyward like a rocket.
"Sir, we've reached the stratosphere. Energy at less than ten percent. Further ascent will endanger your life."
"Keep going."
"...Understood, sir."
They broke through the upper atmosphere. The temperature dropped sharply—below freezing in an instant.
"Hey, Obadiah," Tony's voice crackled over the comms.
"What?!" The older man sounded annoyed and a little panicked.
"I've got a question for you."
"What are you—"
"How did you solve the freezing problem?"
"What freezing prob—?"
Before he could finish, frost began to spread across the Iron Monger's armor. Ice crystals bloomed along the joints, freezing the hydraulic systems solid. Within seconds, the massive suit was encased in frost—and then its engines sputtered out completely.
> "W–Wait—no—no!"
Gravity took over. The Iron Monger went into freefall, tumbling toward the ground like a meteor.
"Jarvis, reduce power. Begin controlled descent."
"Energy reserves at five percent. I recommend shutting down all non-essential systems."
"Do it."
Everything but the propulsion and life-support cut off. The HUD dimmed to a faint red glow as Tony began gliding downward, watching the falling Iron Monger trail smoke through the clouds below.
---
Meanwhile, Lucas—who'd been following from a distance—spotted the tumbling armor plummeting toward the city. He knew the story well enough to realize that the fall alone wouldn't kill Obadiah.
He urged Onion into a dive, the chocobo shrieking as it folded its wings and hurtled downward after the falling machine.
Inside the Iron Monger, Obadiah was frantically trying to reboot the system, his fingers slamming uselessly on frozen controls. His screens stayed black, the ground rushing up fast.
Lucas didn't attack yet. He matched the armor's descent, simply watching.
"Come on," he murmured. "Let's see what tricks you've got left."
> "Damn it! Start! Start, you piece of junk!!"
Obadiah's curses echoed uselessly. The altimeter screamed.
BOOOOM!
The Iron Monger slammed into the ground like a meteor, carving a crater into the street. Dirt and debris rained down in a violent wave.
Lucas landed lightly at the crater's edge. Moments later, Tony descended beside him, armor scorched and smoking.
"Is he dead?" Tony asked, lifting his visor.
Lucas shrugged. "Hard to say. Probably not."
The two men stood there in silence, watching the still Iron Monger for several long minutes.
By the time Pepper, Coulson, and the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. arrived, Tony finally tore his gaze away to meet Pepper's eyes.
The instant she saw him, she ran forward, tears streaming down her face. Tony caught her in his arms, holding her close, exhaustion giving way to quiet relief.
Lucas glanced at the pair and chuckled softly. "Huh. Gotta admit—they do make a pretty cute couple."
Onion gave a low huff, then bumped Lucas with its feathery head, as if agreeing.
Coulson and several agents moved toward the Iron Monger's wreck, weapons ready.
But before they could even take a proper look—
WHIRRRR—KLANG!
The suit's systems suddenly came back to life. The Iron Monger surged upright and swung a massive metal fist. The lead agent never even had time to scream before being crushed.
A second later, a micro-rocket burst from the armor's shoulder.
BOOM!
The explosion ripped through the group, obliterating everyone except Coulson, who was blown backward by the shockwave.
> "Damn you, Tony Stark! Die!!"
Obadiah's enraged roar filled the night as he charged, the Iron Monger staggering toward Tony and Pepper.
They barely had time to react.
"Tony!" Pepper screamed, instinctively stepping in front of him, forgetting that he was the one wearing armor.
Tony raised a hand, but his repulsors were dead—he couldn't even fire.
And then—
CRASH!
A blur slammed into the Iron Monger from the side, sending it flying through a building wall.
A piercing shriek split the air.
Onion swooped down, talons flashing. The chocobo's kick shattered the Iron Monger's armor like brittle glass. It let out another furious cry, raking the metal suit with both claws like a rooster digging into dirt.
Chunks of steel flew in every direction, plates and bolts scattering across the street. Within moments, the Iron Monger was nothing but a heap of broken scrap, and Obadiah lay exposed, gasping in terror.
With a final screech, Onion lunged down, clamped its beak around the old man's collar, and hurled him to the pavement. Then it planted one heavy claw squarely on his chest.
Given the bird's sheer size and weight—even Captain America himself would've struggled to move it.
Obadiah Stane?
He didn't stand a chance.
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