Inside the rescued car, the mother's survival instinct overrode rational thought. Her foot slammed down on the accelerator before Tony could fully release the vehicle. The rear wheels touched pavement and the car lurched forward with desperate acceleration, directly into Tony's armored form.
"Wait, !" Tony's protest cut off as several tons of panicked sedan caught him mid-kneel and dragged him forward. Metal screeched against metal as the car pushed him across the asphalt, his armor scraping sparks from the road surface.
Then the car rolled over him entirely, chassis grinding against his faceplate before the vehicle roared away into the night, leaving Tony flat on his back in the middle of the street.
Smith appeared above him, looking down with barely concealed amusement. "You know, most people rescue cars from under people. You've managed to get rescued and then immediately trapped under a car. That's impressive incompetence."
Tony's external speakers crackled with irritation. "Thanks for the commentary. A little help?"
"Of course." Smith grabbed the front bumper of another nearby vehicle, abandoned by its fleeing driver, and lifted it effortlessly, setting it aside to give Tony room to stand. "So, how was your intimate experience with automotive undercarriage engineering?"
Tony pushed himself upright, servos whining as the armor compensated for the impact damage. "Unpleasant. But I won our race, so it was worth it."
Despite everything, the betrayal, the near-death experience, the ongoing combat situation, Tony couldn't resist claiming victory in their speed contest. The score was tied now, one win each.
Smith shrugged, not bothering to argue. He could have overtaken Tony easily if he'd pushed his ki to maximum output, but there was no point. Tony's armor used manufactured arc reactor technology, something that could potentially be mass-produced. Smith's abilities were unique, personal, and couldn't be replicated or commoditized.
Besides, in the future, Tony's suits would reach Mach 8 or higher. Impressive progress for someone working with purely technological means.
Though compared to instant transmission, the ability to cross planetary distances in the blink of an eye, even hypersonic speeds were pedestrian.
"Fine, you win this round," Smith conceded. "But I think we have more immediate concerns."
The ground trembled. Heavy footsteps approached, accompanied by the roar of thrust vectoring systems. The Iron Monger emerged from the smoke and debris, flames jetting from its foot-mounted repulsors as it executed a combat leap that brought it crashing down in front of them.
Obadiah's voice boomed through external speakers, distorted by amplification and rage. "I recognize you, Smith Doyle. You're the one who rescued Tony from that cave."
A motorcycle happened to be passing nearby, its rider desperately trying to navigate the chaos. Obadiah's massive hand shot out, grabbed the bike's rear wheel, and lifted the entire vehicle, rider and all, into the air. The motorcyclist tumbled free with a scream as Obadiah wielded the bike like a club.
He swung.
The motorcycle connected with Tony's armor in a shower of sparks and shattered components. The impact sent Tony flying backward, his repulsors firing desperately to stabilize his tumbling trajectory.
"But I suggest you stay out of this," Obadiah continued, crushing what remained of the motorcycle in his fist and letting the wreckage fall. "Otherwise, Tony won't be the only corpse I leave on this street tonight."
Obadiah had never witnessed Smith's capabilities firsthand. All he knew was that Smith ran some underground assassin organization, that he'd somehow extracted Tony from a fortified cave. Impressive, certainly, but Obadiah stood inside two tons of weaponized armor. What could one man do against that?
Without waiting for a response, Obadiah turned away from Smith dismissively and launched himself toward Tony's position, clearly considering the matter settled.
Smith stood motionless for a moment, processing what had just happened.
Had he just been... ignored?
Around them, the street had descended into chaos. Civilians fled from their vehicles, abandoning the traffic jam to escape the armored combatants. But not everyone ran, some people, driven by morbid curiosity or the desperate need for viral content, pulled out phones and started recording. The Iron Monger, the Mark III, and Smith himself all became subjects for dozens of camera phones.
This footage would be everywhere within hours. The age of hidden superhuman abilities was ending tonight.
Obadiah reached Tony and delivered a devastating kick that sent the smaller armor skidding across the pavement into a parked bus. Before Tony could recover, Obadiah grabbed him and lifted him off the ground.
"For forty years, I've supported you!" Obadiah roared, shaking Tony like a ragdoll. "I built this company from nothing!"
He slammed Tony into the street, then raised one massive foot and stomped. Once. Twice. Three times. Each impact dented the Mark III's armor, stress fractures spreading across the gold-titanium plating.
"Nothing will stand in my way. Not you, not anyone."
Obadiah grabbed Tony again and hurled him with tremendous force. Tony's body smashed through a public bus, the impact sheering the vehicle nearly in half. Before Tony could recover, Obadiah fired a missile from his shoulder mount.
The explosion engulfed Tony's position in fire and smoke, the shockwave shattering windows in nearby buildings.
Tony emerged from the blast airborne and disoriented, repulsors firing erratically as he struggled to stabilize. He crashed to the pavement in a graceless heap, armor scored and blackened from the explosion.
"Smith!" Tony's voice crackled through damaged speakers. "Are you seriously just going to watch? Help me out here, this thing's armor is too thick, and he's got way more firepower!"
A pause, then Tony's tone shifted to indignant. "Also, where the hell did you get popcorn and a Coke? That's just excessive!"
Smith glanced at the refreshments he'd somehow acquired from a fleeing street vendor, the man had dropped them in his panic, and waste not, want not. He'd been genuinely enjoying the spectacle of Tony and Obadiah's confrontation.
Obadiah's amplified laughter echoed across the street. "You're calling for help from a human? What do you expect him to do, Tony? Throw popcorn at me?"
The Iron Monger's left arm unfolded, revealing a rack of twelve micro-missiles, all targeting systems locked on Tony. "Or did you think he'd save you again like in that cave? Please. If he interferes, I'll burn his Fraternity to the ground."
Tony pushed himself upright, servos whining in protest. "Smith, you going to let him talk about you like that?"
Smith sighed and handed his popcorn and Coke to a nearby bystander who'd been recording everything. "Hold these for me."
He turned his attention to Obadiah, his expression shifting from amused to cold. "Threatening me was a serious mistake. Possibly the last one you'll ever make."
Then Smith moved.
One instant he stood twenty feet away. The next, he materialized directly in front of the Iron Monger, moving too fast for normal vision to track. His fist, already in motion, drove into the armor's midsection with devastating force.
The impact produced a sound like a bomb detonating. The Iron Monger, all two tons of military-grade armor, lifted off the ground and flew backward, carried by the sheer kinetic energy of Smith's punch. The armor's chest plate crumpled inward, forming a perfect impression of Smith's fist in the reinforced metal.
But Smith wasn't finished.
Before Obadiah's trajectory could complete, Smith blurred again, appearing behind the airborne Iron Monger. He clasped his hands together, muscles tensing, and swung like a baseball player connecting with a fastball.
The blow caught Obadiah's armored form squarely, redirecting his momentum downward and forward. The Iron Monger became a missile, slamming into the street and rolling end-over-end through parked cars. Each impact crushed vehicles like tinfoil, the twenty-ton armor treating civilian property as mere obstacles.
The Iron Monger finally skidded to a halt surrounded by wreckage, alarms blaring from inside the cockpit, structural integrity warnings flashing across every display.