"Mr. Smith!" Pepper's voice crackled with barely controlled panic through the phone. "Something's happened to Tony. I called him, the line connected, but there was no sound, and then it just cut off."
She took a shuddering breath. "Earlier today, I found evidence that Obadiah tried to have Tony murdered. Video proof, shipping manifests, everything. But Obadiah caught me copying the files. I escaped with the evidence, but he knows. He knows what I took."
Her words tumbled out faster, fear driving them. "I think he's gone after Tony. Please, I need you to check on him. If something's happened, if Obadiah's done something, you're the only one who can get there in time. Please."
Smith's mind processed the information with crystalline clarity. The timeline had shifted after all. Obadiah must have gotten the Mark I blueprint from the Ten Rings, must have been building his armor in secret. And now, with his conspiracy exposed, he'd made his move against Tony.
The pieces fell into place instantly. This was it, the moment when Obadiah would steal Tony's arc reactor, leaving him to die while the paralysis device did its work.
"I'm on my way," Smith said without hesitation. This was exactly the kind of opportunity he lived for, effortless heroics that built loyalty and obligation. "Trust me, Pepper. Tony's got plot armor thick enough to survive anything. He'll be fine."
The casual confidence in his voice seemed to calm her slightly. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
Smith ended the call and couldn't help the dark humor that bubbled up. "That makes four times I've saved Tony Stark's life," he muttered to himself, a grin tugging at his lips. "At this rate, if he ever kicks the bucket, I should inherit everything. Iron Man, Stark Industries, the whole package."
The joke faded as quickly as it came. He had work to do.
Smith didn't bother changing out of his training gear, just a tank top and workout pants, both soaked with sweat. He moved through the Fraternity headquarters at enhanced speed, avoiding security cameras with practiced ease until he reached an exterior exit far from observation.
Then he launched himself into the night sky.
Ki flared around his body as he accelerated, the flying technique propelling him upward and forward with tremendous force. Within seconds, a Mach cone formed around him, the distinctive vapor ring that marked supersonic flight. The California coastline blurred beneath him as he rocketed toward Malibu.
His mind wandered even as he flew. This incident marked a turning point. Once Tony revealed himself as Iron Man, and he would, that was inevitable given his personality, the Marvel Universe's major events would begin cascading. Gods and monsters would emerge from the shadows. Aliens would invade. The world would become infinitely more dangerous and infinitely more interesting.
And somewhere in all that chaos, Dragon Ball's wish system would continue providing him with power. He just needed to survive long enough to use it.
The darkness concealed his flight reasonably well. Even if someone spotted him, they'd likely mistake him for Tony in one of the Iron Man suits. And if SHIELD or HYDRA noticed? Let them. He'd been planning to increase his visibility anyway.
Tony lay motionless on his couch, staring at the ceiling with eyes that burned from the effort of not blinking. His body was completely unresponsive, locked in paralysis by Obadiah's weapon. Only his mind remained active, racing through the implications of betrayal.
Obadiah. His father's partner. His mentor. The man who'd guided him after Howard's death, who'd kept Stark Industries running when Tony was too busy playing billionaire playboy to care about the company.
That man had just tried to kill him. Had, in fact, ordered his death months ago in Afghanistan. The Ten Rings hadn't been random terrorists, they'd been contractors, hired assassins working at Obadiah's direction.
And now the old bastard had stolen the arc reactor from his chest, leaving him to die as shrapnel worked its way toward his heart.
But Obadiah had made a critical mistake. He hadn't done the killing himself, hadn't stayed to watch Tony die. He'd left, confident that the paralysis and physics would do his work for him.
Which meant Tony had a window. A narrow one, measured in minutes, but a window nonetheless.
The paralysis would wear off eventually, the device had a limited duration. And the shrapnel would take time to pierce his heart, time measured by the magnetic field's gradual collapse without the arc reactor's power.
He just needed to survive until mobility returned. Then he could drag himself to the workshop, install the old reactor that Pepper had mounted in that ridiculous display case, and live long enough to make Obadiah pay for everything.
Time crawled by with agonizing slowness. Tony counted heartbeats, measured breaths, tried to force his fingers to move through sheer willpower. Nothing. His body remained a prison.
Then,
CRASH.
The front door exploded inward with tremendous force, wood and metal scattering across the entryway. Through his limited field of vision, Tony saw a figure stride into the villa, tall, lean, moving with predatory purpose.
Smith Doyle.
Relief flooded through Tony so powerfully it nearly brought tears to his paralyzed eyes. Pepper had called him. She'd realized something was wrong and called the one person who could actually help.
Smith crossed the room in an instant, appearing above Tony with a speed that didn't register as movement so much as teleportation. His eyes scanned Tony's condition with practiced assessment, pale skin, labored breathing, the gaping hole where the arc reactor should be.
"Well, you look like death warmed over," Smith said, his tone light despite the severity of the situation. "Let me guess, Obadiah pulled your battery and left you to die?"
Tony's eyes confirmed what his voice couldn't.
"Right. Reactor. Where?" Smith's gaze swept the room, found nothing useful, then shifted toward the workshop. "Downstairs?"
Again, Tony's eyes answered.
Smith vanished. A moment later, Tony heard another crash, presumably the workshop door meeting the same fate as the front entrance. Smith's respect for property boundaries apparently didn't extend to locked doors during emergencies.
Footsteps echoed from below, then a curse. "Where the hell did Tony keep his spares? This place is a disaster area."
More sounds of searching, things being moved and discarded. Tony wanted to scream that there was only one reactor left, that it was in Pepper's gift display on the workbench, that he needed it now before his heart gave out entirely.
Then silence.
Smith reappeared as suddenly as he'd left, holding the display case containing Tony's original arc reactor, the one that had kept him alive in that cave, that Pepper had mounted with the inscription "Proof That Tony Stark Has A Heart."
Smith didn't bother reading the inscription. He simply crushed the glass case in his hand, letting fragments fall away as he extracted the reactor.
"This is going to be unpleasant," Smith warned, kneeling beside Tony. "Try not to pass out."
His hands moved with surprising gentleness despite their obvious strength, removing the magnetic housing from Tony's chest cavity and exposing the hollow where the reactor belonged. Smith fitted the old unit into place, his movements precise despite having no medical training.
The reactor clicked home. Power surged through its conduits, the magnetic field reinitializing. The shrapnel fragments that had been slowly migrating toward Tony's heart froze in place, then began their gradual retreat back toward the periphery of his chest cavity.
Tony's breathing steadied. Color began returning to his face. He wasn't out of danger entirely, the old reactor was less efficient than his newer model, and the shrapnel would continue to be a threat, but he would live.
He still couldn't move, the paralysis stubbornly maintaining its grip. But his eyes found Smith's, and the gratitude there needed no words to express.