"Sir, there's a lake about thirty kilometers ahead, at ten o'clock," J.A.R.V.I.S. reported. "No human activity detected nearby. You can dispose of the missile there."
"Got it. Keep scanning the area. If anything changes, alert me immediately."
"Understood, sir."
Tony adjusted his altitude, gripping the high-heat missile over his shoulder as his armor blazed through the sky. Every course correction drained his power reserves—but thankfully, his suit's solar conversion systems kicked in, feeding kinetic energy back into the core.
He wasn't going down yet.
Inside the base, Reed Richards' eyes were clenched shut. By his calculations, the missile should've hit by now… but there was no impact. No heat. No shockwave.
"Impossible," he muttered, checking the radar. His breath caught when the display lit up—Iron Man was diverting the missile.
For a man he'd once dismissed as an arrogant, self-absorbed playboy, Tony Stark was proving himself in the most unexpected way.
Reed's mind drifted back two years—the Ministry of Defense had tried to force the Fantastic Four to disband and merge into the Avengers. At the time, Tony had been the face of that proposal, and Reed had hated him for it.
But right now?
That same man had just saved them all.
"The crisis… it's finally over," Reed exhaled, though his nerves refused to relax. He stayed by the console, afraid another missile might drop from the heavens.
Up above, Tony soared over the lake, systems flashing warnings as temperatures spiked.
"Sir! You're entering the blast radius!" J.A.R.V.I.S. warned.
"Yeah, yeah—launching it now!"
He hurled the missile down and rocketed skyward.
A second later—BOOM!
A blinding light swallowed the horizon. The explosion was so bright it seared through Tony's visor. Even through reinforced plating, he felt like he'd been tossed into a furnace.
"Remind me," Tony gritted, "to fire whoever came up with this thing."
The system blared constant heat alarms. He forced himself higher, watching below as the lake vaporized—literally vanished—in an instant. Trees, soil, even the rocks themselves shimmered, then disintegrated under temperatures rivaling the sun's surface.
Within seconds, a five-thousand-square-meter crater replaced the lake. Steam rose from molten earth.
Tony whistled under his breath. "All that for one missile. You know, J.A.R.V.I.S., the tech behind this—chemical fusion for ultra-high heat—would've been perfect for waste disposal. And what did I do? Built superweapons instead."
He gave a dry chuckle. "Funny how karma works. Now I'm cleaning up my own mess."
"Sir, if you were to approach the Ministry of Defense and request they destroy all weapons purchased from Stark Industries, the probability of success is… zero."
"Yeah, that's about what I figured." Tony sighed. "Good thing we're out of the weapons game anyway."
He paused in the air for a moment, then banked back toward the base.
Down below, a stealth fighter pilot was frantically reporting to the Ministry of Defense.
"The target missile neutralized… Iron Man intervened to assist the Fantastic Four…"
The Secretary of Defense's expression darkened with fury on the other end.
Before the corporal could finish his report, Tony appeared—hovering right in front of the fighter jet's cockpit. He rapped his knuckles on the glass, then made a slicing motion across his neck and pointed toward New York.
The corporal understood immediately. There was no way he could go head-to-head with Iron Man. He turned the jet around and bolted.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., status check," Tony said.
"The D4 fighter does not carry any additional high-heat missiles."
"Figured as much," Tony replied. "If they had one, they ditched it when I flew off. Anyway, I'm not looking for trouble with the Fantastic Four. But hey—saved their lives, didn't I? Guess I should go collect my thank-you speech."
He descended smoothly, boots clanking onto the scorched ground.
But before he could take a step—boom! A massive shadow barreled into him, sending him flying backward.
Using his thrusters, Tony stabilized midair, armor whining under the strain. His HUD locked onto the assailant—Ben Grimm, the Thing himself.
Great.
Tony flipped open his faceplate with a smirk. "Buddy, that's one hell of a welcome hug. You almost cracked a rib through the armor."
Ben's gravelly voice rumbled, "If it weren't for you writing that damn report to the Defense Ministry—saying we should be folded into the Avengers—I wouldn't even be talking to you!"
Tony held up his hands. "Easy there, rockstar. Yeah, I wrote the report—but that was during the Chitauri invasion. My logic was simple: if Loki could bring an alien army to Earth, we needed every powerhouse working together. It wasn't ego, it was strategy."
"Then why not have the Avengers join us?" Ben shot back.
Tony snorted. "Come on. 'Fantastic Five'? 'Fantastic Six'? 'Fantastic Thirty-Seven' if we keep going? Sounds like a bad movie sequel marathon. Way cleaner to just have you guys join us."
Ben glared, but before he could retort, Reed and Johnny ran over.
"Sorry about that," Reed said, giving Ben a reproachful look. "He's… a bit impulsive."
Tony grinned. "No harm done. Like I said—warm hug."
....
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