For 40+ advance chapter: patreon.com/Snowing_Melody
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The deck of the cargo ship was a chaotic inferno of melting metal and searing heat. Dozens of remote-controlled Iron Man suits swarmed the air, engaging the Extremis soldiers in a desperate, brutal melee.
Aldrich Killian, shirtless and glowing with the blinding, molten orange intensity of the virus, moved like a demon. He was the perfect adapter, the apex predator of his own creation. His speed was unnatural, his strength tearing through gold-titanium alloy like wet cardboard.
Tony, currently piloting a patchwork suit, fired a repulsor blast at Killian's chest. The beam connected, burning a hole through the man's sternum, but the wound glowed angry orange and stitched itself shut in seconds.
"It's no use, Tony!" Killian roared, his grin manic and heat-distorted. He lunged, his fist glowing white-hot.
SNAP!
He punched partially through Tony's chest plate. The armor's internal systems screamed in protest, sparks showering the deck.
"Damn it!" Tony grunted, blasting his thrusters to fly backward, crashing heavily onto a shipping container. "Jarvis, I need a new suit! This one is toast!"
Amidst the chaos, Colonel Rhodes, sans armor, sprinted across the upper deck, dodging Extremis fire. He spotted the small girl standing calmly near the railing.
"Kid! Come with me, quickly!" Rhodes shouted, reaching out to grab her arm. He didn't know who this "daughter" was, but his duty was to protect civilians.
Hermione didn't move. She stood like a statue amidst the war zone, ignoring Rhodes completely.
The Extremis soldier guarding her suddenly twitched. A flash of green light, silent and unobtrusive, flickered near him. He collapsed instantly, hitting the deck with a heavy thud, dead before he hit the ground.
Rhodes's eyes widened. "Did he just… have a heart attack?"
"Shh," Hermione frowned, brushing Rhodes's hand away. "Don't make a sound. I'm watching the show."
She looked down at Tony, who was scrambling to his feet as his current suit disintegrated around him. Her eyes were filled with mocking pity.
"I'm telling you, Tony," she shouted over the roar of battle. "Your suit is way too flimsy. It's like it's made of papier-mâché."
She paused, taking a bite of her apple. "Why don't you stop calling yourself Iron Man? You should change your name to Foil Man. Or maybe The Tin Can."
Tony, who was busy dodging a superheated fist, nearly choked. That little brat was roasting him while he fought for his life!
"Jarvis!" Tony screamed, dodging another blow. "Battle damage report!"
"Sir," Jarvis's voice was calm but dire. "Seven suits have been completely destroyed. The remaining units are sustaining critical thermal damage. They are unsuitable for prolonged combat against this specific thermal threat."
Tony's heart sank. His Iron Legion was being melted into scrap.
He looked at the swarm of glowing, regenerating soldiers closing in. He looked at Killian, who was practically invincible. He swallowed his massive ego.
"Okay, fine!" Tony yelled, looking up at the upper deck. "Stop watching! Help me!"
Rhodes looked at Tony in shock. Did the great Tony Stark just ask a twelve-year-old girl for backup?
But the next moment, Rhodes's jaw dropped.
"Ventus Maxima!"
Hermione didn't shout; she simply commanded. She floated effortlessly into the air, her robes snapping in the wind. She waved her wand, and the atmosphere screamed.
A gust of wind appeared out of nowhere, spiraling rapidly, feeding on itself until it formed a massive, roaring tornado that connected the dark sky to the steel deck. The sound was deafening, drowning out the explosions and the repulsor blasts.
The tornado swept across the deck with surgical precision. The Extremis soldiers, who could heal from bullet wounds and regenerate limbs, found themselves helpless against the sheer kinetic force of nature.
"AHHHH!"
Screams echoed as the soldiers were lifted off their feet. The wind was so intense it acted like a billion invisible razor blades. The Extremis healing factor triggered frantically, but it couldn't keep up with the rate of destruction. They were torn apart, layer by layer, until there was nothing left but dust and bone scattering into the Atlantic wind.
"What… is… this?" Rhodes stared, his brain refusing to process the visual data.
Killian froze. He watched his invincible army—his life's work—being fed into a magical woodchipper. The heat in his veins turned cold.
He looked up at the girl hovering in the eye of the storm, surrounded by lightning and power. The pieces finally clicked. The security. The lack of fear. The reports from New York.
"You are not Tony's daughter!" Killian roared, his voice trembling with a terrifying realization. "You! You're the Witch! The Witch of New York!"
Hermione flicked her wrist, and the tornado dissipated as quickly as it had formed, dropping the last few bones onto the deck. She landed lightly between Tony and Killian.
BANG!
While Killian was paralyzed by the revelation, Tony seized the opportunity. He boosted his thrusters and delivered a haymaker to Killian's chest, sending the distracted villain skidding across the deck.
"It's over, Killian," Tony panted, stepping out of his ruined suit. He walked up to the downed man, regaining his swagger. "I told you not to mess with teenage girls. They have terrible tempers. But you wouldn't listen."
Killian struggled to his knees, glowing with hate. He knew he was doomed. He couldn't fight magic.
"Tony Stark," Killian spat, pointing a trembling finger at Hermione. "You think you won? If it weren't for her, you'd be dead ten times over!"
Tony looked at Hermione, then back at Killian. He knew it was true. But he would never admit it out loud.
"Killian, stop flattering yourself," Tony scoffed. "Even without Hermione, my Iron Legion is more than enough to deal with your glow-stick army."
"Sir," Jarvis interrupted, "The Mark 42 has returned. It is inbound."
Tony's face lit up. "Ah, the prodigal son returns." He looked at Killian with a smirk. "Perfect timing. Watch how I finish this."
He spread his arms wide, striking a heroic pose, waiting for the pieces of his prototype armor to assemble around him and deliver the final blow.
In the distance, the red-and-gold streaks of the Mark 42 approached rapidly. It flew in fast. Too fast. It hit the deck railing, tripped, and—
CLANG-CRASH-CLATTER.
The suit flew past Tony, smashed face-first into a pipe, and disintegrated into a pile of useless, sparking mechanical junk.
Tony: "…" Hermione: "…" Rhodes: "…" Killian: "…"
The silence on the deck was profound.
Hermione stared at the pile of junk. As expected of the Anti-Tony Armor. It never fails to fail.
She smirked, looking at Tony's frozen, outstretched arms. "Come on, Iron Man. Finish him."
She raised a fist in a mock 'fighting' gesture. "Good luck!"
Then she turned around to walk away.
"No! No! Don't go!" Tony panicked, his facade crumbling instantly. "I… I was just talking nonsense! I was bluffing!"
He looked at Killian, who was already standing up, his fists glowing hot again. Without a suit, Tony was dead meat.
Hermione stopped and looked back over her shoulder. "Beg me."
Tony's lips twitched. His ego fought a war with his survival instinct.
"Bye-bye," Hermione waved.
"Wait! Wait!" Tony slapped his hands together in a pleading gesture. "Please! Okay? I'm begging you! Just get rid of him already!"
Hermione nodded, satisfied. "That's more like it."
She turned back to Killian, who looked like a man watching his executioner approach. He didn't run. He knew he couldn't outrun the wind.
"Any last words?" Hermione asked.
Killian gritted his teeth, the orange glow fading into a dull, defeated red. "I didn't lose to you, Stark," he hissed. "I lost to luck."
Hermione tilted her head. You really aren't lucky, she thought. In another life, you lost because you injected Pepper with the virus. In this life, you lost because Pepper hugged me, and you assumed I was a daughter instead of a threat.
It seems, Hermione mused, that Pepper Potts is your nemesis in every timeline.