Phase One: Iron Man

by Alex Irvine

  “I didn’t approve this shipment,” Tony said. He felt as though the world was crumbling around him.

  “Well, your company did,” Christine replied.

  Tony took her by the hand. “Come with me,” he said. Together, the two of them strode out of the building to where the huge mass of reporters stood, waiting to take pictures of celebrities leaving the event.

  Outpacing Ms. Everhart, Tony saw Obadiah talking to the reporters and made a beeline for him. He thrust the pictures in front of Obadiah, who saw them and immediately hustled Tony away from the reporters. “Please, do you mind?” he growled.

  “What’s going on in Gulmira?” Tony demanded.

  “Tony, Tony,” Obadiah said. “You can’t afford to be this naive.”

  “Naive?” Tony said. “When I was growing up, they told me there were lines I couldn’t cross because that’s how we did business. But in the meantime, Stark Industries is double-dealing under the table. Our company doesn’t deserve to represent the United States.”

  “Tony,” Stane said, “you’re acting like a child.”

  Tony gazed into Stane’s eyes and saw fear. “You don’t believe I can turn this company around,” Tony said. “You think we’ll go broke unless we sell weapons.”

  “Tony, you’ve got about as much control over our business as a child riding in the backseat of your father’s car holding a red plastic steering wheel in your hand.”

  Around them, reporters clamored for pictures, but Tony ignored them. “Maybe I’ll just get out of the car,” Tony replied.

  “You’re not even allowed in the car,” Stane said. He took a deep breath. “Tony, who do you think locked you out? I was the one who filed the injunction against you.”

  Tony couldn’t believe it. Stane turned and walked away, but Tony caught up to him.

  He grabbed Stane by the jacket and spun him around. “Why?” Tony asked angrily.

  “It’s the only way I could protect you,” Stane replied. As he said it, two large bodyguards stepped between him and Tony. With a final shake of his head, Stane left the party and climbed into his waiting limousine.

  No, Tony thought. This was not going to be how it worked.

  CHAPTER 13

  Tony sat hunched over his workbench, wearing a prototype of the Mark III Iron Man gauntlet. On the wall beside him, a large flat-screen TV monitor blared with the latest news.

  The TV showed long lines of refugees streaming out of the ruins of Gulmira as triumphant Ten Rings separatists ran rampant through Gulmira City. It seemed that Raza’s rebel group was spreading beyond Afghanistan.

  Tony aimed the gauntlet at a hanging light fixture twenty feet away and activated the repulsor unit. The lights sparked and fizzled and fell from the ceiling.

  The scene on the TV switched, now showing half-starved refugees gathered in makeshift camps and caves in the Gulmira hills. In the midst of the crowd, a starving child wept.

  Tony adjusted the gauntlet, raising the power level. He pointed it toward a window on the far side of the lab and fired. The blast shattered the glass and knocked a nearby picture off the wall.

  “With no international political will or pressure,” the TV reporter concluded, “there is little hope for these newly displaced refugees—refugees who can only wonder one thing: Is the world watching?”

  Tony made a final adjustment to the gauntlet and blasted the TV to smithereens. As silence descended over the lab, he nodded in satisfaction. It was time for him to get more closely acquainted with the situation in Gulmira.

  The suit was fast. He covered half the world in a few hours and closed in on Gulmira by the next sunrise.

  The city was under siege by the same black-clad Ten Rings rebels who had held Tony and Yinsen hostage. They patrolled among the hovels and refugee tents on the outskirts of the city, gathering the local men of fighting age to hold them hostage.

  A boy not more than twelve years old darted through an alleyway, clutching a puppy in his arms. He didn’t see the four separatists in the square until he almost ran into them. The men shouted and raised their weapons; the boy cowered, knowing he was doomed.

  Iron Man dropped out of the night sky, landing between the rebels and their intended victim. They quickly shielded themselves with hostages, but Tony had anticipated a situation like this when he was putting the finishing touches on the armor’s close-range combat systems. Multiple targeting icons appeared in the suit’s heads-up display and at a single vocal command, every rebel was dropped by a microslug fired from a tiny turret battery inside the armor housing.

  The hostages scattered, and so did the boy.

  Tony lifted off again, heading back toward the town, when a missile blew him out of the sky. His armor handled the impact, but his sensors and navigation systems were scrambled for a brief moment. When he had them reset, he locked in on the truck that had fired the missile and destroyed it with a repulsor blast. Then he strode through the Ten Rings encampment and destroyed all the old Stark weaponry he could find, setting off a series of enormous explosions that echoed throughout the valley.

  It felt good to settle some scores on Yinsen’s behalf, and also to get the local people out from under the tyranny of the Ten Rings. But before Iron Man could enjoy the victory, a tank shell shattered the building next to him. Tony staggered as tons of bricks and mortar rained down on his armor. The refugees, who had crept out of hiding to watch Iron Man, scurried back to safety.

  Then the tank itself rumbled into view, knocking down makeshift hovels as it came. It trained its turret cannon toward Iron Man as he rose to his feet.

  Tony studied the tank’s schematic on his heads-up display. The tank was Stark designed, and his computer files showed him everything about it, including its weaknesses.

  The tank fired again, but Iron Man was already moving. A mini missile launcher popped open on Tony’s left gauntlet.

  Iron Man fired the missile into the tank, hitting it between the body and turret. The tank’s systems overloaded, and moments later, its passengers jumped to safety as the tank exploded.

  Tony’s heads-up display showed someone coming up behind him. He whirled, repulsors ready to blast the enemy into next week.

  But it was only a child—the same boy Tony had rescued earlier. In his outstretched hand, the boy held an apple.

  Iron Man mussed the boy’s hair affectionately and then took to the sky once more. He looked around and saw no more rebels prowling the streets. The refugees below cheered. Heaving a sigh of relief, Tony said, “Jarvis, plot a course for home.”

  The explosions in Gulmira did not go unnoticed in the air force command center where Colonel James Rhodes was a staff officer. “What was that?” the general wanted to know. “Were we cleared to go in there?”

  “We got a bogey!” a surveillance officer announced. “Wasn’t air force.”

  The radar signal was small, very maneuverable, and very fast. “We’ve got the CIA on the line. They want to know if it’s us,” the general said.

  “No, it definitely is not us. It wasn’t navy. Wasn’t marines.” Various staff officers chimed in.

  “Get Colonel Rhodes down here now!” the general commanded.

  A minute later, Rhodey walked in and got a quick briefing. “We think it’s an unmanned aerial vehicle,” one of the officers concluded.

  Rhodey thought a moment and then said, “Let me make a call.” He picked up a phone and punched in Tony Stark’s private number. A moment later, Tony’s voice came over the earpiece.

  “Yeah?”

  Rhodey could barely hear him; it was a terrible connection. “Tony, it’s Rhodey. What’s that noise?”

  “Oh yeah, I’m driving with the top down,” Tony replied. “Look, this isn’t the best time—”

  “I need a quick ID,” Rhodey said, studying the ongoing satellite pictures. “We’ve got a weapons depot that was just blown up a few clicks from where you were being held captive.”

  “Well, that’s a hot spot,” Tony sai
d. “Sounds like someone stepped in and did your job for you, huh?”

  Rhodey covered the phone’s receiver as the control officer said, “The unmanned aerial vehicle has entered the no-fly zone.”

  “You sure you don’t have any tech in that area I should know about?” Rhodey asked.

  “Nope. Why do you ask?”

  One of the staff officers signaled a patrolling F-22 to approach the bogey. “Whiplash, come in hot,” he said.

  “Because I think I’m staring at one right now,” Rhodey said, “and it’s about to get blown to kingdom come.”

  An alarm blared in the control room, announcing that the unmanned aerial vehicle, called a UAV, was violating the patrolled airspace.

  “That’s my exit,” Tony said. The connection broke with a click.

  Tony looked up as two US Air Force F-22 Raptors streaked out of the sky toward him.

  The jets screamed ahead, gaining on him. Tony turned on the armor’s turbo booster and shot forward. He pulled into a tight bank, but the planes remained on his tail.

  Beads of sweat rolled down Tony’s back. Every time he turned, the planes turned with him. His heads-up display showed their weapons systems trying to lock on. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they had him in their sights.

  But would they fire? He was on their side after all.

  The problem was, they didn’t know that.

  “Pursuing aircraft have locked on,” Jarvis announced calmly.

  Tony glanced back over his shoulder as the lead jet fired a missile at him.

  CHAPTER 14

  The missile streaked straight toward Iron Man. In his revamped armor, Tony was as fast as the jets—but the Sidewinder missile was faster still.

  Tony concentrated, sending every iota of power he could into the suit’s thrusters but, each moment, his heads-up display showed the missile gaining on him.

  Jarvis’s voice remained calm. “Incoming Sidewinder in five… four… three… two…”

  Tony activated the suit’s countermeasures. Instantly a hatch popped open, and big, confettilike flakes of metal burst into the air.

  The sidewinder hit the chaff and exploded. The fireball from the explosion surrounded Iron Man, but Tony didn’t even feel it through the armor.

  Unfortunately, the F-22 jets hadn’t given up yet.

  Iron Man dived toward the ground, rolled to his left, and banked right. The Raptors followed close behind.

  Tony flew as fast as he could, trying to keep the jets from locking on again. He banked into a hard turn. The g-force meter inside his helmet went from green to yellow to red. The world around him blurred, and Tony nearly blacked out.

  “Sir,” Jarvis said, “may I remind you that the suit can handle these maneuvers, but you cannot.”

  The F-22s sprayed machine-gun fire into Iron Man’s path. White-hot tracer rounds streaked past Tony, exploding and ricocheting off his armor. For the first time, the new suit buckled and tore.

  Tony grimaced and said, “Jarvis—air brakes!”

  Instantly, all of the suit’s drag-inducing flaps opened, slowing Iron Man to a halt in seconds. Tony grunted as g-forces pressed him against the inside of the suit.

  The jets shot past Iron Man, twin blurs of aviation gray. Tony breathed a sigh of relief. The Raptors would be miles away before they could turn back on him again.

  “Jarvis,” he said, “get Rhodey on the line.”

  The computerized butler put the call through.

  “Hello?” Rhodey’s voice said.

  “Hi, Rhodey, it’s me. You asked. What you were asking about is me.”

  “No, see, this isn’t a game. You do not send civilian equipment into my active war zone. You understand that?”

  “This is not a piece of equipment. I’m in it. It’s a suit. It’s me!”

  “Mark your position and return to base,” the commanding officer said.

  “Roger that, Ballroom,” Whiplash Two said.

  “At once, sir.”

  As the jets screamed past overhead, Iron Man shot up from the ground and clamped onto the belly of the closest one. Unfortunately, it only took a moment for the Raptor’s wingman to notice.

  “Whiplash One, he’s on your belly,” the second jet’s pilot called.

  “What?” Whiplash One asked, seemingly unable to believe it.

  “He’s clinging to your belly! Shake him off!”

  The F-22 Raptor immediately began a series of swoops, dives, and turns. Even with his armor-enhanced fingers, Tony barely hung on. The maneuvers shook him inside the suit like nails inside a tin can.

  “Headquarters,” Whiplash Two said, “that is definitely not a UAV.”

  A voice Tony recognized as Major Allen came over the speaker. “What is it, then?” Allen asked.

  “I think it’s a… it’s a man, sir.”

  “Whiplash Two,” Viper One said, “it’s still there. Roll! Roll!”

  Tony clung tight as the airplane began a series of dizzying rolls, twists, and spins—up, down, sideways, and back again. Inside his armor, Tony began to feel queasy.

  “Sir,” Jarvis’s calm voice said, “in two minutes, we won’t have sufficient power to return home.”

  Iron Man lost his grip and tumbled through the air. He smashed into Whiplash Two’s left wing, ripping it off. The jet careened toward the ground.

  “I’m hit!” Whiplash Two cried. He pushed the eject button and the canopy of his aircraft flew off. The rocket-powered cockpit chair zoomed clear of the crippled aircraft, but the chair’s parachute failed to open.

  “Whiplash One,” Major Allen called, “do you see a chute?”

  “Negative!” Whiplash One replied. “No chute! No chute!”

  Iron Man streaked forward, angling for the falling pilot.

  “Power critical,” Jarvis intoned. “Set course for home immediately.”

  “The UAV is going after him!” Whiplash One cried. “It’s attacking!”

  The heads-up display gave Tony the information he needed. He rocketed toward the falling pilot. At the last instant, Iron Man’s metal fingers found the jammed chute mechanism and ripped it open.

  The pilot’s chute deployed with a loud whooshing sound. The parachute caught the air and jerked the pilot upward, away from Iron Man. The chute billowed out, gliding the pilot safely toward earth.

  Beneath his helmet, Tony grinned.

  “Good chute! Good chute!” Whiplash One called. “You’re not going to believe this, but that UAV just saved his life!”

  Iron Man fired his thrusters, banking sharply, and barely avoided slamming into the ground. Whiplash One executed a barrel roll and came up right on his tail.

  Nearly every system in Tony’s armor was flashing CRITICAL. He didn’t have the power for any more fancy maneuvers; he barely had the power to make it back home.

  Then the jet peeled off his tail and roared away. Tony realized Rhodey was still on the phone. “Tony, you still there?”

  “Hey, thanks,” Tony said.

  “You owe me a plane. You know that, right?”

  “Well,” Tony said, “technically he hit me. Now are you going to come by and see what I’m working on?”

  “No, no, no,” Rhodey said. “The less I know, the better. Now what am I supposed to tell the press?”

  “Training exercise,” Tony said. “Isn’t that the usual?”

  “It’s not that simple,” Rhodey said.

  CHAPTER 15

  Pepper sat on a small couch in the living room, her head propped in her hands. There had been no sign of Tony in almost a full day. Hours ago, she had decided to wait up for his return. But she was dozing now, exhausted from the strain of wondering where Tony was. She woke up as she heard a familiar voice on TV: It was Rhodey giving a press conference about the training exercise in which an F-22 had crashed the day before.

  A sudden whooshing sound startled her awake. The house shook, as though something very heavy had fallen over downstairs in the lab. She went down and heard
Tony’s voice while she was still on the stairs. “Hey!” he said. “I designed this to come off, so…”

  He saw her as she came into the lab. “Hey,” he said, like nothing was unusual. But he was in what looked like a red-and-gold suit of armor, with Jarvis running a thicket of robot arms trying to take pieces of it off his body. “Please try not to move, sir,” Jarvis said.

  “What’s going on here?” Pepper asked. She had seen Tony design a lot of crazy things, but never anything like this. It looked brutal, all armored strength.

  “Let’s face it,” he said. “This is not the worst thing you’ve caught me doing.”

  But she was in no mood to joke. “Are those… bullet holes?” she asked.

  Tony tried to think of the best way to tell her the truth.

  A train of black SUVs wound through the desert toward Raza’s hideout. The vehicles stopped near the warlord’s tent, and private security guards stepped out. They took up defensive positions around the convoy.

  Obadiah Stane stepped from his SUV as warlord Raza pulled back the tent flaps.

  “Welcome,” Raza said. Seeing Stane’s gaze linger on his scarred face, he added, “Compliments of Tony Stark.”

  “If you’d killed him when you were supposed to,” Stane said, “you’d still have a face.”

  Raza’s smile turned into a savage grimace. “You paid us trinkets to kill a prince,” the warlord said. “An insult, both to me and to the lord whose ring I wear.” He held up his hand, showing the symbol of Ten Rings, interlocked, on the one ring he wore.

  “I think it is best we don’t get your master involved in this,” Stane said. “I’ve come a long way to see this weapon. Show me.”

  Raza nodded. “Come. Leave your guards outside.”

  Stane entered the tent and stared. The weapon was gray, human-sized, and hanging from wires near the rear of the yurt. It resembled a high-tech suit of medieval armor. It was scarred and pitted, nearly destroyed before being pieced back together.