by Marie Jevins
And now Tony was flying, but this wasn’t the sort of flying he enjoyed. He was flung, powerless, through the sky, protected only by the strength of the Iron Man suit’s armor alloy.
“Restart.” The Iron Man armor had an auto-reboot function built-in, but the electric shock had delayed it. The only thing working in his armor at the moment was the bit of Velcro he’d taped under the eye guard for when he had to scratch his nose.
“Any time now. Jarvis?”
Iron Man could see the interstate below him. He was going to crash down in the middle of the westbound passing lane. Tony clicked the emergency power button by his left thumb a few times, with no results.
The word RESTART slowly fizzled into view on the HUD. The armor began to come online.
But not in time.
Iron Man crash-landed on to the hood of a silver, four-door sedan racing down the highway at sixty-five miles per hour. The front windshield, skylight, and driver’s side window shattered, and the car’s steel front undercarriage hit the asphalt as the rear went airborne. A boxy red hatchback screeched in under the rear of the sedan, crumpling under the weight as the first car pivoted back down. The two cars slid together to a halt, and Iron Man tumbled off the sedan and on to the pavement. He had regained power now, and leapt to his feet.
“Oh, God,” said Iron Man as a third driver lost control, this car flipping into the air over the two that had already crashed.
The third car crashed into another. Both exploded in a ball of fire that engulfed the interstate. No one walked away.
How many had just died?
TONY STARK FAILS.
The headlines tomorrow would not be kind. The vicious personal attack on Pepper would be nothing compared to this—and this time, it was the truth.
Then Mallen arrived, leaping clear across the highway to land crouched on two legs and a fist. The road shuddered, and the pavement buckled under the impact.
Iron Man wasn’t at 100 percent yet—Tony confirmed this on his HUD. But he had power and ocular systems. And he wasn’t holding back this time.
Tony scanned his available munitions. Ah. Screamers.
“Forty-five seconds, Jarvis.”
Iron Man’s armor emitted a directional screeching alarm. An ordinary man would have lost balance, collapsed, and bled from the ears, struck down with immediate hearing damage. Mallen covered his ears with his hands and grimaced. He rocked from side to side for a moment.
Iron Man pulled back his fist for a blow that would kill a normal man.
Too late. Mallen reached out his right arm and stopped Iron Man’s fist in mid-punch. He caught and held it. Impossible, thought Tony. The man’s eardrums should be nearly vaporized. He shouldn’t even be able to stand. Had he grown new eardrums on the spot?
Mallen’s fist tightened around Tony’s right hand, crushing it through the armor.
“AAAAAAAA!” Iron Man fired a hundred micro-bursts from his shoulder arsenal. They exploded all around Mallen’s head, like tiny land mines. Mallen grimaced and screamed in pain.
And then he smiled as he recovered. He kicked Iron Man’s right knee backward, instantly snapping the ligaments, destroying the cartilage, and crushing the joint.
Iron Man’s hand and leg were held together now by just the armor. He swung his left arm around and fired a repulsor at Mallen’s face with all the power left in his weapons system.
Scarred and battered, Mallen sneered through broken teeth and swung a punch directly at Iron Man’s heart.
Tony stumbled, saw flecks of his own blood through his helmet. The words TORSO UNIT BREACH flashed across his HUD. His lungs and heart ached. His armor compromised, his organs failing, Tony knew now he could not win against Maya’s invention. She’d built a better weapon, one that evolved by learning and reacting to his every attack.
As Iron Man fell weakly to his knees, Mallen strode over to a black car, a car carrying a family. He punched his fists through the hood, grabbing the holes he’d made as if they were handles.
He lifted the car—with three innocents inside, panicked and screaming—high above his head, high over the nearly useless Iron Man.
TONY STARK FAILS.
I’m not going to be around to see that headline, thought Tony.
E L E V E N
“Alert: Sensors indicate shallow breathing and rapid pulses of three passengers within civilian vehicle elevated directly overhead.”
“Thanks for the update, Jarvis,” said Tony. “How are we doing locally?”
“Iron Man armor breached at copolymer ballistic joinery between torso strike face and nanocomposite shoulder panels. Laminate is cracked on all major surfaces. Excessive blood loss approaching class II hemorrhage with reduction by mechanical compression and emergency suture application on right leg, right hand, and upper chest. Right knee musculoskeletal damage is acute, with potentially irreversible bone and cartilage trauma. Use is not currently recommended. Containment structure of right hand has been destroyed, but temporary splintage has been accomplished by Iron Man gauntlet. Warning: Splintage may lead to immobility and potentially to further damage.”
“What’s the good news?”
“Painkillers are online, containment sub-skin is activated. Kinetic energy threshold statistics have been recorded and uploaded to Stark Enterprises R&D department for use in future laboratory research.”
“Swell. I’ll keep that in mind if we ever make it back to the lab,” said Tony from his crumpled, semi-kneeling position on the wrecked interstate surface. He stared up at Mallen, who towered over him, dominant, straining slightly under the effort of holding the black sedan above his head. Mallen’s face was scarred, and his teeth were broken from Iron Man’s seedpod bomblet assault. His leather coat was shredded and burned. But Mallen himself was unharmed, aside from being walking rage, a furious vessel of violent wrath.
Iron Man weakly held up his uninjured arm in front of his body, in the shadow of the car. Pointless, he knew, but he was semi-delirious from painkillers, and self-protection was an instinct. He felt helpless, feeble with his broken bones and damaged armor, but somehow he had to stop Mallen from hurting the three people in the car. Tony analyzed the situation as quickly as he could in his medicated haze, trying to find an advantage of intellect and experience over this psychotic Extremis enhancile.
“All the money in the world can’t change that you’re just a weak, pathetic human under that shiny shell,” said Mallen. “You’re inferior. Pitiful. Not like me. I’m a real man, with real strength and power. You’re going to burst inside that suit when this car hits you. They’re going to have to pour you out.”
The harder they come, thought Tony. “Jarvis, route all power including life support on my mark.”
“Diverting power from life-support systems at this time is not recommended.”
“Shut up and do it.” Tony scanned his holographic body-data output as pain-killing functions temporarily ceased. He began to feel new aches, intensifying rapidly.
I can stand this, he thought. He had to. Tony Stark could be crushed, Iron Man destroyed, but three more innocent deaths on Tony’s watch were unbearable. “Power divert: Chest beam. NOW!”
A massive, blinding-white uni-beam shot straight out of Iron Man’s arc reactor, catching Mallen directly in the chest with the force of an anti-tank missile. Mallen vanished in a swift blur, the beam’s impact battering him, sending him flying a half-mile away.
Iron Man anchored himself stiffly on his remaining useful leg and held up both arms to catch and brace the car as it fell.
“Oh, hell…” said Tony, as the car crashed down on him. He was inside the most advanced technological system on earth, and his research hadn’t accounted for being outmatched. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to be merely a fragile human with an unpowered shell, little more than a turtle with thumbs, overcome by weight and simple physics. He felt the highway under his boots shudder and crack.
The sheer weight of the Iron Man a
rmor held the car momentarily. The civilians above would survive this experience, as long as Tony could just lower the car gradually to the ground.
“Reroute all available power back to normal armor functions,” wheezed Tony as the car weighed down on him.
“Power transmission is at zero percent,” said Jarvis. Tony’s HUD confirmed this.
“No no no. Don’t you dare. Auxiliary power: activate. Anything.”
Then, joint by joint, Tony heard the armor split and fracture as the strain overcame him. First the elbow guards, then the shoulder plates, and finally the neck joints hissed and cracked as his pressurized containment layer fragmented. Iron Man folded up and collapsed under the car, crushed into the pavement. The damaged vehicle landed on top of him with a thud.
“Auxiliary power on: Iron Man safe mode,” reported Jarvis cheerfully.
Thank God, thought Tony. Another fail-safe activated. Plus, the painkillers were back online. Now to get this car off me without scaring the passengers any more than they are already.
And that’s when Iron Man noticed a sudden change in temperature—it’s getting kinda warm in here, he thought—and the orange-and-yellow flickering of flames creeping up to encircle the car.
Mallen plummeted to the ground with a tremendous THUMP a half-mile east along the highway. The pavement cracked as he slammed down and skidded thirty feet before grinding to a halt in a crater of coarse asphalt and tar.
“Ufff.”
Mallen raised himself up on one knee and pressed a hand to his chest where the uni-beam had struck him. His heart thudded with pressure, and he felt faintly disoriented. He stopped for a moment, hesitating, catching his breath.
“Oww. You bastard…” Mallen stood up slowly, cautiously, and let the dizzy spell subside. His head hurt, and his pulse thudded in his skull with a booming echo throughout his limbs and body.
Iron Man had hurt him, and Mallen felt it in every muscle and nerve. But more important: Mallen had nearly killed Iron Man. He’d crushed Iron Man’s leg and hand, cracked open his expensive suit with almost no effort. Iron Man’s bombs had little effect on him.
Ruined my coat, Mallen thought, glancing with annoyance at the holes in his old leather jacket.
Mallen could easily take out Iron Man any time he wanted.
How about now?
Then Mallen realized the thudding in his skull wasn’t the sound of his heart. It was the steady, rhythmic pulse of helicopter blades and rotors slicing through the air. A squadron of state-police choppers were approaching the scene. Five of them, almost directly overhead.
Mallen could have fought and downed them all without any real danger to himself, he now knew. But he was bruised and breathless from his battle with Iron Man. And anyway, his beef was with the Feds, not the cops. His goal wasn’t to kill the most people. It was to kill the right people.
Iron Man is a tool of the government, he told himself. Helps them suppress free will. Doesn’t matter, though. Not important. I’ll get back to him later if I need to. All the time in the world now. Leave the little things behind.
Another thing he was leaving behind was Beck and Nilsen. Last he’d seen them, they’d been sliding down the highway in half a van. The cops had probably taken them in, he knew. If they had any sense, they’d say he’d forced them to drive him around, and maybe they’d get off with probation or a year of house arrest.
Or maybe he should find them, rip them free from their restraints and bring them along. But they were just normal humans, inferior to him. They’d only hold him back. And probably be pissed at him for being better than them now.
“I hope those two losers get their beer,” said Mallen. He turned away from the scene on the highway and ran.
Trapped by the car and flames, Tony thought he saw Mallen run. But his vision was blurry through his unpowered visor, a haze of fire, and specks of his own blood that dotted the Iron Man helmet. The flames danced closer, swirling along trails of escaped fuel, until Iron Man’s entire field of vision was a fiery red and the suit felt like a furnace.
“Jarvis! Secondary systems. NOW.”
The words AUXILIARY POWER ON/IRON MAN SAFE MODE faded into view and flashed twice on Tony’s holographic display. He tried again to push the car up and away, but his right arm was useless and his left arm was only human-powered now.
“Come on. Come on.” The family in the car that imprisoned Tony was screaming above him.
“Mommy, Mommy! The fire is coming this way—!”
“I know! The doors are jammed shut! Oh, God—the heat!”
The temperature rose as Iron Man watched the fire lick the edges of his armor. The suit’s alloys were fire-repellent, but life support was barely online at the moment and the armor wasn’t supplying oxygen. Tony coughed and wheezed. He needed air or he’d suffocate.
THERMOCOUPLE/HEAT-INDUCTIVE TRANSFER FIELD ONLINE. Tony could breathe again. Finally, life support and secondary systems were back.
“Jarvis, give me energy from those flames,” he said. He could feel Iron Man’s power increasing as his electromagnets recharged, slowly transferring particles from the air around him. Primitive, he thought, but effective. Iron Man extended his mangled right arm, the armor giving it the structure and power he needed.
“Recirculate internal plasma,” he said as he arced his arm, sucking in energy. His armor recycled the surrounding blaze, creating a safe perimeter around the car.
HEAT-POWER TRANSFER SUCCESSFUL. POWER AT 1%.
“I don’t feel very successful,” said Tony. “I feel like I’ve just been beaten to a pulp by an angry idiot.” He slowly pushed the car up off the ground and swiveled it over, then lowered it down safely to one side. “Jarvis, activate police-band communications. Iron Man to all points: I’m going to be immobilized in about a minute and a half.” He coughed. “Could use some…cough…immediate aid.”
An alert popped up on his HUD. MEDICAL/SUIT EMERGENCY-INTERVENTION SYSTEM AUTO-ACTIVATING. SEEK URGENT MEDICAL ASSISTANCE.
“Well, that’s a huge help,” said Tony. He closed his eyes, thought about the families of the people who had died here today. He thought of his own bruised and damaged body, and wondered whether he should try to get Pepper on the line to tell her he was critically injured. But he wasn’t sure what time zone she was in, and she’d just worry anyway, so he lay still and waited instead.
A minute later, a paramedic stood over him. “How do I check your vital signs?” Firefighters were tackling the nearby blaze and seemed to have it under control, and ambulances had arrived to help the injured.
“You don’t have to,” explained Iron Man. “My armor records an in-depth report of anything wrong with me. In short: Everything is broken. I have pulverized bones, excessive bleeding, and internal injuries. It’s as if I’ve been Hulk-smashed. And the piece of Velcro I use to scratch my nose is missing.”
“You want me to…?”
“No, no. An itchy nose takes my mind off my other problems. Where…is he?”
“He took off on foot,” said the paramedic. “We clocked him at three hundred miles an hour moving east. What about you? All that damage…do we call your office or the Avengers or…?”
“I’ve already transmitted briefings on my condition and the potential risks of the situation. Use one of your choppers. I need an airlift. I can’t take the armor off—it’s got me immobilized, and it’s all that’s holding me together. And not too many bumps in the ride, please. I’m bleeding too much as it is…and scrubbing blood out of this thing…is a pain…”
“Where do we take you? The hospital?”
“No,” said Iron Man. “Take me to Futurepharm.”
Tony closed his eyes and spoke to his AI. “Jarvis, sedatives, please. Maintain all compression and painkillers, and knock me out until we’re back in Austin.” Tony heard EMTs and state police yelling instructions over him as his world faded from view.
T W E L V E
The crackling of feet on dry leaves woke Mallen before sunr
ise. He leapt to his feet on the porch of the old Arkansas hunting cabin, ready for a fight.
A white-tailed deer froze in the clearing in front of the cabin. A young buck, Mallen realized, not a threat. For a moment, he thought about grabbing and choking the deer—he hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon, before Houston—but butchering the animal would be difficult without a knife or saw and would make a huge mess. Also, Mallen didn’t yet know whether there were cooking supplies in the cabin. He was easily strong enough to take down a deer with his bare hands, but there was more straightforward prey—fast food and convenience stores—along his route.
“Try me again if I’m still here in a week,” said Mallen to the deer. It stood for a minute, blinking its big brown eyes, then fled into the forest.
Mallen swung his arms back and forth twice, twisted his shoulders a few times, then shook his stiff legs. Apparently, the ability to sleep comfortably on wooden planks wasn’t one of his new super-powers. He hadn’t thought about that when he’d stopped a few hours after dark, exhausted from his day of sorting out the Houston FBI, and then an evening of testing and honing his new skills against that so-called Iron Man.
“Should’ve stopped at the Motel 6,” he muttered. But that wouldn’t have made any sense, he realized. Mallen needed to be far beyond the reach of irritating authorities and nosy hotel workers.
He kicked the locked cabin door open with a casual thump of his boot and headed straight to the kitchenette. Nothing but a can of deviled ham and some Vienna sausages. Gross. Raw deer might’ve been better. He shrugged. This would do for the moment. He’d hit a Denny’s when he got to the next town.
When Tony woke up a little more than an hour later, he heard the speed of the helicopter blade-slap change and groggily realized he’d arrived back in Austin. He swung in the wind, still locked in his armor, dangling from the helicopter like a piece of construction equipment.