Marvel Hunter - Chapter 16

Chapter 16: The Heart of Iron

[Location: Stark Mansion, Malibu] [Time: 20:00 PST]

The pizza box sat open on the coffee table, steam rising from a pepperoni and jalapeño pie. It was a simple pleasure, one that Tony Stark had promised himself after the chaos of Afghanistan.

Tony sat on the sofa, nursing a glass of scotch. He wasn’t drinking it to get drunk; he was just holding it, feeling the cold glass against his palm.

He was tired. The flight back, the dogfight with the Raptors, the destruction of the weapons caches—it had drained him. His aura, his Ten, was humming at a low frequency, a gentle white noise in the back of his mind.

“Jarvis,” Tony said, staring at the fireplace. “What’s the status on the suit repairs?”

“The Mark III is undergoing automated structural realignment, Sir,” Jarvis replied. “The gold-titanium alloy held up remarkably well against the F-22’s sidewinder shrapnel. However, the flight stabilizers need recalibration.”

“Do it,” Tony murmured. “I have a feeling I’m going to need it again soon.”

The doorbell rang.

“Sir,” Jarvis announced. “Mr. Stane is at the door. His biometrics indicate elevated stress levels, but he has bypassed the security protocols with his executive override.”

Tony sighed. He rubbed his temples. He wasn’t in the mood for Obadiah. He wasn’t in the mood for the lecture about stock prices or the board of directors.

“Let him in, Jarvis. He’s family. Can’t lock out family.”

Tony stood up, smoothing his shirt. He walked to the living room entrance just as the heavy glass doors slid open.

Obadiah Stane walked in. He was carrying a pizza box of his own. He was smiling, that wide, benevolent smile that Tony had known since he was a child. The smile that had comforted him at his parents’ funeral.

“Tony!” Stane boomed, his voice filling the room. “You’re impossible to reach. Pepper told me you were brooding. I brought New York style. None of that California cardboard.”

“You know I hate anchovies, Obie,” Tony said, forcing a smile.

“It’s not anchovies. It’s leverage,” Stane joked, setting the box down on the piano.

Stane walked over to Tony. He put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. It was a heavy, paternal grip.

“You look tired, Tony,” Stane said softly. “The board… they’re worried. I’m worried.”

“I’m fine, Obie,” Tony said, stepping back slightly. “I’m just fixing things. Cleaning up the mess.”

“The mess,” Stane repeated. His eyes flickered to the blue glow of the Arc Reactor beneath Tony’s shirt. “You know, Tony… sometimes, to fix an egg, you have to break it.”

“That’s not the saying,” Tony frowned.

Stane’s smile didn’t waver, but his other hand moved. It moved with a speed that belied his size.

He pulled a small, silver device from his pocket. It looked like a high-tech hearing aid.

He pressed it against Tony’s neck.

HUMMMMM.

The sound was instantaneous and excruciating. It wasn’t just a noise; it was a frequency that attacked the central nervous system.

Tony gasped. His vision blurred.

His knees unlocked. His arms went limp.

He collapsed onto the sofa, his body paralyzed, his mind screaming in a silent prison.

“Easy, Tony,” Stane whispered, leaning over him. “Easy.”

Tony tried to move. He tried to summon his aura.

Ten.

He pushed with his mind. He tried to visualize the white steam wrapping around his body.

But the sonic device was disrupting his bio-electric field. His concentration shattered. The Ten flickered and destabilized, dissipating into nothingness. Without the mental focus to maintain the flow, his aura nodes clamped shut instinctively.

He was defenseless.

Stane sat down next to him, casual, relaxed. He picked up Tony’s glass of scotch and took a sip.

“You know,” Stane said conversationally, “I really didn’t want to do this. I wanted you dead in the desert. It would have been cleaner. A tragedy. A martyr for the company.”

He leaned in close, his face inches from Tony’s.

“But you had to survive. You had to come back. And you had to bring this.”

Stane reached out. He grabbed the magnetic housing of the Arc Reactor.

Tony’s eyes widened in terror.

“This is a masterpiece, Tony,” Stane said, admiring the glow. “This is the legacy which can change the world itself.”

Stane twisted.

He unlocked the housing.

With a wet, sickening squelch, he pulled the Arc Reactor out of Tony’s chest.

The blue light left the room, leaving them in the dim glow of the fire.

Tony gasped—a shallow, ragged intake of air.

Stane held the reactor up, looking at it like a religious artifact.

“It’s beautiful,” Stane whispered. “And it’s mine.”

He looked down at Tony.

Stane expected to see the immediate signs of cardiac arrest. He expected the gasping to turn into the death rattle of a man whose heart was being shredded by shrapnel.

“When I ordered the hit,” Stane said, standing up and pocketing the reactor, “I worried about killing the golden goose. But you see, Tony… the goose laid its last egg. And now? You’re just a shell.”

Stane patted Tony’s cheek.

“Rest now, Tony. The shrapnel will do the rest. It’s ironic, isn’t it? The thing keeping you alive was the only thing standing in my way.”

Stane picked up his pizza box.

“Goodbye, Tony.”

He walked out. The glass doors slid shut.

Silence returned to the mansion.

Tony lay on the sofa. The paralysis was slowly fading as the sonic frequency dissipated from his nerves.

He waited for the pain.

He waited for the shrapnel to pierce his heart. He waited for the cold embrace of death that Yinsen had warned him about in the cave.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

His heart beat steadily.

There was no pain. There was no shrapnel moving toward his atrium.

When Veer opened his aura nodes, they also pushed out all the sharpnels.

Weeks ago, in Goa, Veer’s aura had forced the metal out of his body. The hole in his chest was there, and Tony was planning to fill the hole, so he don’t get poisoned.

Tony blinked. He took a deep breath.

He wasn’t dying.

“You… arrogant… son of a bitch,” Tony wheezed, his voice barely a whisper.

He forced his fingers to twitch. Then his hand.

He dragged himself off the sofa. His legs were still jelly, but he crawled. He crawled across the Persian rug, sweating, panting.

He didn’t crawl towards the phone. He crawled towards the elevator.

“Jarvis,” Tony rasped. “Lab.”

The elevator doors opened. Tony dragged himself inside.

…

[Location: Stark Industries, Section 16]

The facility was massive, a cavernous hangar beneath the main Arc Reactor of the factory. It was filled with shadows and the hum of high-voltage machinery.

Pepper Potts stood near the entrance, flanked by five SHIELD agents. Agent Coulson was in the lead, his gun drawn but held low.

“Mr. Stane!” Coulson shouted, his voice echoing in the vast space. “This is Agent Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. We have a warrant for your arrest.”

Silence.

“We know you’re in here,” Pepper added, her voice trembling but defiant. “We know about the Ten Rings, Obadiah. It’s over.”

From the shadows in the center of the room, a deep, metallic grinding sound emerged.

Whirrrr. CLANK.

Floodlights snapped on, blinding the agents.

Rising from a platform in the floor was a nightmare.

It stood ten feet tall. It was bulky, unrefined, and brutal. It was the color of raw steel. It had no paint, no elegance. It was a tank on legs.

The Iron Monger.

The chest piece—the massive cavity that had been empty hours ago—was now glowing with the bright blue light of Tony’s stolen reactor.

The suit took a step forward. The ground shook.

“Over?” Stane’s voice boomed from external speakers, amplified and distorted. “My dear Pepper. Nothing is over. We are just beginning to pave the road.”

“Open fire!” Coulson ordered.

The SHIELD agents unleashed a barrage of bullets.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

The bullets struck the Iron Monger’s thick plating and flattened instantly. Stane didn’t even flinch.

“Ants,” Stane laughed.

He swept his arm. The massive steel fist smashed into a forklift, sending the two-ton machine flying across the room like a toy. It crashed near the agents, sending them scrambling.

“Fall back!” Coulson yelled. “It’s bulletproof!”

Stane marched forward. He wasn’t fast, but he was unstoppable. He swatted an agent aside, breaking bones. He grabbed a support pillar and ripped it out, bringing part of the catwalk crashing down.

Pepper ran. She sprinted for the exit, her heels clicking on the concrete.

“Where are you going, Pepper?” Stane taunted, the heavy footsteps shaking the floor behind her. THUD. THUD. THUD. “I need an assistant! I have a press release to dictate!”

She reached the blast doors. They were locked.

She turned around. The Iron Monger loomed over her, blocking out the light. The single red eye-slit glowed with malice. The rotary cannon on its arm spun up.

“It’s a shame,” Stane said, aiming the weapon. “You really were efficient.”

Pepper closed her eyes.

BOOM.

The ceiling above them exploded.

Debris rained down. Stane looked up, startled.

Through the hole in the roof, a streak of red and gold descended.

It wasn’t a graceful landing. It was a crash. The figure slammed into the Iron Monger, tackling the massive suit with the force of a missile.

They tumbled across the floor, crashing into a row of server banks. Sparks showered down.

Tony Stark stood up.

He was wearing the Mark III. But the chest piece… the light was dim. It wasn’t the brilliant white-blue of the new reactor. It was a pale, flickering light.

He was powered by the original Arc Reactor—the “Proof That Tony Stark Has A Heart” souvenir Pepper had saved. It was old technology. Low output.

“Jarvis,” Tony panted inside the helmet. “Status.”

“Power at 48% and dropping, Sir,” Jarvis warned. “The older generation reactor cannot sustain the Mark III’s combat systems. Flight is limited. Repulsors are at 30% capacity.”

“It’s enough,” Tony said.

Stane stood up. The Iron Monger towered over the Mark III.

“Tony?” Stane laughed, a booming, incredulous sound. “You’re alive? How? You should be a corpse!”

“I have a good doctor,” Tony said. “And a better diet.”

“Well,” Stane stepped forward, the hydraulics hissing. “It doesn’t matter. You brought me a spare suit to scrap. Look at you. You’re skinny. I am the future!”

Stane charged.

He swung a fist the size of a wrecking ball.

In the old timeline, Tony would have been hit. He would have relied on the suit’s durability.

But this Tony was different.

Focus.

Inside the helmet, Tony’s eyes narrowed. He couldn’t use Ten to block a punch from this monster—his aura was too weak for that. But he could use ‘Ren’.

Aura burst out of his body.

Time seemed to slow down.

He saw the hydraulic piston on Stane’s arm extend. He saw the shift in the Iron Monger’s center of gravity. He calculated the trajectory of the punch before Stane even fully committed to the swing.

Move.

Tony side-stepped.

It was a blur. The massive steel fist passed inches from his helmet, smashing into the concrete floor.

“You’re slow, Obie,” Tony taunted.

He fired a Repulsor blast at Stane’s knee joint.

Pow.

It was weak. It scorched the metal but didn’t penetrate.

“And you’re weak!” Stane roared.

Stane backhanded Tony.

Tony saw it coming. He ducked under the arm, slid between the Iron Monger’s legs, and fired his thrusters to launch himself onto Stane’s back.

“Get off!” Stane thrashed, reaching back to grab him.

“Jarvis, target the external targeting sensors,” Tony ordered.

“Targeting.”

Tony ripped a bundle of wires from the Iron Monger’s neck.

Stane roared in frustration. He activated his thrusters. The massive suit launched into the air, smashing through the roof of the factory.

Tony held on. They rocketed into the night sky over Los Angeles.

[Airspace: Above Stark Industries]

The cold air hit them.

“Sir,” Jarvis warned. “Power at 19%. If we go higher, the icing problem…”

“Obie hasn’t solved the icing problem,” Tony realized. “Keep going!”

They climbed. Twenty thousand feet. Thirty thousand.

Ice began to form on the Iron Monger. Stane’s suit, built from reverse-engineered scraps without Tony’s metallurgical knowledge, wasn’t insulated for high-altitude flight.

“Systems failing!” Stane shouted over the comms. “What did you do?”

“It’s called physics!” Tony yelled.

The Iron Monger froze. The reactor stalled. The thrusters cut out.

Stane began to fall.

Tony let go. He hovered for a second, his own suit shivering but holding.

“Power at 6%,” Jarvis said. “We need to land, Sir.”

Tony dived.

He followed the frozen monolith of the Iron Monger as it plummeted towards the Stark Industries Arc Reactor building below.

[The Rooftop]

CRASH.

The Iron Monger slammed onto the glass roof of the Arc Reactor building. The impact shattered the reinforced glass, but the steel beams held him.

Stane lay there, the ice cracking off his suit.

Tony landed opposite him. He stumbled. His suit was heavy. Dead weight. The old reactor was flickering, barely keeping the life support online.

Stane groaned. The systems rebooted. The stolen reactor in his chest flared to life, melting the remaining ice.

“Nice try, Tony,” Stane growled, pushing himself up. “But I have the power!”

He ripped a motorcycle off a display rack on the roof and hurled it at Tony.

Tony dodged, but his suit was sluggish. The motorcycle clipped his shoulder, spinning him around.

Stane closed the distance. He grabbed Tony by the head and slammed him onto the glass.

“You had it all!” Stane screamed, pinning Tony down. The rotary cannon spun up, inches from Tony’s face. “You had the genius! The money! And you threw it away for a conscience!”

Tony looked up at the red eye of the Monger.

He couldn’t overpower him. The Mark III was dead.

He closed his eyes.

Veer’s voice: “Don’t try to force it. It’s about flow.”

He couldn’t use the suit. He had to use the man.

“Jarvis,” Tony whispered. “Divert all remaining power to the chest unibeam. Bypass the safeties.”

“Sir, that will drain the core instantly. You will lose mobility.”

“Do it!”

Stane laughed. “Any last words, Tony?”

Tony opened his eyes. They were glowing. Not with the suit’s light, but with the faint, white steam of his own life force.

“Yeah,” Tony said. “I want my heart back.”

He didn’t fire the unibeam at Stane’s face.

He fired his thrusters one last time—not to fly away, but to lunge into Stane’s guard.

He slipped inside the reach of the massive arms.

Stane fired the cannon. The bullets tore up the roof where Tony had been a millisecond ago.

Tony was faster. His human reaction time, boosted by Nen, allowed him to move before Stane’s clumsy fingers could pull the trigger.

Tony pressed his chest plate directly against the Iron Monger’s chest plate.

“Flare!” Tony shouted.

The Unibeam fired.

VOOOM.

It wasn’t a penetrating laser. It was a massive EMP-like discharge of pure thermal energy.

It hit the stolen reactor housing in Stane’s chest.

The magnetic seals fried. The connection severed.

Stane screamed as his suit’s HUD went white.

Tony didn’t stop. He reached into the superheated hole in the Iron Monger’s chest. His gauntlet metal began to warp, but he wrapped his hand in Ten. He pushed through the heat.

He grabbed the Arc Reactor.

With a primal scream, Tony pulled.

SCREEECH.

Metal sheared.

Tony ripped the reactor out of the Iron Monger.

The blue light died in Stane’s suit. The massive machine went instantly limp, freezing in place like a statue.

Tony rolled away, clutching the reactor. He gasped, lying on his back on the shattered glass.

His own suit was dead. Darkness.

But he was alive.

Across from him, the Iron Monger stood motionless, a tomb of steel.

Stane’s voice came from inside, muffled and terrified.

“Tony! Tony, I can’t move! The life support… the air scrubbers are offline! Tony!”

Tony pushed his faceplate open manually. He sat up, coughing. He looked at the reactor in his hand.

He looked at Stane.

Tony stood up. He walked over to the Iron Monger.

He looked into the dark eye slit.

“You are fool, Obie,” Tony said, his voice hard. “You have everything, but you throw it away because of jealousy.”

“Tony! Help me!”

“The suit is a closed system without power,” Tony said. “You have maybe thirty minutes of air. The police are downstairs.”

He tapped the metal chest.

“Enjoy the view.”

Tony turned around.

Pepper was running across the roof, flanked by Coulson and the agents. She stopped when she saw him standing there, holding the glowing heart.

“Tony!” she cried, running to him.

Tony caught her with his unarmored arm. He sank to his knees, exhausted, but smiling.

“I quit,” Tony mumbled into her shoulder.

“What?” Pepper asked, crying.

“Pizza,” Tony clarified. “I’m quitting pizza. Too much drama.”

Above them, the police helicopters circled, their spotlights illuminating the victorious Iron Man and the defeated, silent hulk of the Iron Monger.

The Merchant of Death was dead. The Hero had risen.