Rhode said, "No, thanks, I don't smoke…"
The next second, he watched as Stark casually pulled out a cigarette, flicked it into the air, and in an instant, a sleek blue-and-silver suit of armor assembled around his body. Rhode swallowed hard and muttered, "On second thought, I'll take one, thanks."
Elsewhere, General Johnson had just climbed back into the cockpit of a massive robot—only to see a fist the size of a sandbag filling his view.
Stark had wanted to team up with Rhode to take down Johnson, but he was blocked by the steel monster that had risen back to its feet. From within, Obadiah's voice growled:
"You know, most of the stories I told you about your father? They weren't true."
"In reality, he smoked, drank, wasted his time with women, daydreamed all day long, and left a trail of disasters that others had to clean up."
"All those tales of his heroism? I made them up. He was, through and through, a bastard."
"But do you know how I stopped him, when he opened his mouth to spout another stupid idea?"
A sense of dread tightened in Stark's chest—before he could reply, a massive fist slammed across his vision.
Spider-Man, watching Stark go flying, rubbed his hands awkwardly. "Okay, so the real question is… who do we help?"
Captain America tapped his shield and said, "Honestly, I think Obadiah's got a point. He's Stark's elder, which gives him more of a right to smack him than I do."
"Still, it feels wrong to just stand here and watch…"
"Then let's not watch. Come on—there are injured civilians to get onto the ambulances."
Meanwhile, Stark staggered to his feet, head spinning, clambering out of a pile of steel beams. "Wait—Uncle… Fine, Howard was a bastard, and so am I! But there's got to be a better way than this. We can sit down, talk it out, call a board meeting, or something. We don't have to settle everything with fists—"
"You're the last one who should be saying that."
With a thunderous roar, the steel monster leapt, landing squarely in front of him. Its shadow loomed over Stark's suit as Obadiah's voice boomed:
"You'll soon see that your iron shell is useless—no matter what colors you paint it."
Stark clenched his fists, exasperated. Clearly, Obadiah was dead set on beating him down. His own anger flared. "Then you'll soon find out this isn't just a paint job!"
He darted like a bird, agilely dodging the giant's punch. In a blur, he was already behind the steel monster, slamming a fist into its back.
The monster swung its arm in retaliation, but Stark slipped away again. His new armor, thinner and lighter, had been re-engineered for speed and mobility.
He raised a palm. The steel beams strewn across the rubble trembled, then shot up into the air, all aimed at the steel monster.
"Warning: Magnetic control system still upgrading," Jarvis cautioned. "High-frequency output unavailable. Energy reserves are low…"
Stark ignored him. He clenched his fist, sending the beams flying like javelins.
Obadiah hadn't seen that coming. Stark's old fighting style was all brute force and repulsors, but this new silver-and-blue suit made him look more like a sorcerer. He dodged most of the barrage, but several beams still slammed into his right arm.
Using the impact, Obadiah vaulted forward, swinging the mech's massive fist upward in a devastating uppercut.
Sparks burst from Stark's armor as he countered with a dive-bomb strike, landing a solid blow to the monster's neck. The machine staggered, then seized one of Stark's legs and hurled him across the battlefield.
He crashed down in the middle of Rhode and Johnson's duel. Rhode was struggling, Johnson's mech sprouting eight whip-like appendages that lashed at him.
"Tag out!" Stark shouted. "Round two—switch opponents!"
It was the right call. Rhode's armor was stronger, better suited for slugging it out with Obadiah's steel monster, while Stark's agile new suit could dismantle Johnson's tentacled behemoth.
Rhode steadied himself, launched upward, and dove straight at the steel monster.
From that moment, the tide turned. Stark zipped circles around Johnson's mech, tearing off half its mechanical tentacles. With its mobility crippled, the machine was just a sitting target, little more than a steel punching bag. Johnson's auxiliary drones fell one after another to Stark's speed and precision.
Meanwhile, Rhode weathered Obadiah's blows, exploiting the giant's damaged leg from earlier battles. A few brutal exchanges later, the steel monster collapsed to the ground, unable to rise again.
Rhode landed beside Stark, panting. "I remember my old CO, General Andro, once mentioning he knew your father when they were young. But I never knew the details."
Obadiah's voice snarled from the fallen mech: "Howard, that damned schemer! He propped Andro up with defense contracts—while I rotted in the Air Force as a lowly brigadier general!"
"None of that matters now," Stark said. "What matters is—you won't be a general anymore."
Johnson barked back, "Everyone knows only Iron Man can build these suits. I just used the scraps you handed over to the military. With those, I—"
"No. What I mean is this: Howard may have been rotten, but he knew how to choose his allies in the military. That's one lesson worth keeping. And it sure as hell wasn't you."
"You're shutting down Stark's weapons division, aren't you?"
"Who told you that rumor?"
Johnson turned his battered mech toward Obadiah's.
"My uncle told you that?"
"Did he also tell you every Stark is fickle? That we change our minds on a whim? Just a few minutes ago, I did. I'm not shutting anything down. In fact, I'm expanding it. I've got some ideas for exoskeleton infantry and medical-assist systems—"
"No! Damn it, I already promised Hammer Industries—"
"Fools always flock to other fools," Obadiah's weary voice cut in.
Johnson's mech flared with sparks, clearly from him pounding something inside in frustration.
"So Hammer built these for you," Stark said. "Figures. Outdated junk, all of it."
"Yeah, and you gave outdated junk to Rhode, too," Johnson sneered.
Rhode folded his arms. "Funny, because he just gave me a very stylish cigarette."
Stark didn't bother replying. He strode to Obadiah's downed mech and forced open the cockpit. Inside, Obadiah looked intact but pale, deathly weak.
"Doctor! I need a doctor!" Stark called.
Schiller appeared, raising an eyebrow. "I'm guessing you don't mean a shrink."
"Of course not—just help me get him to a hospital."
The symbiote whispered in Schiller's mind: His heart…
Schiller checked the pulse. The rhythm was wrong. Obadiah coughed. "An external power core can't keep something that big running…"
"You tampered with your own heart?" Schiller asked.
Stark yanked open Obadiah's shirt, revealing a scar across his chest. His voice shook. "Damn it! Get him to my lab! This bio-mechanical path is a dead end—it's burning his life away!"
"You're just like your father," Obadiah rasped. "So stubborn… never listen…" But seeing Stark's bloodied face, he fell silent.
Schiller sighed. "Take him back. I'll arrange a good neurosurgeon. You'll meet him at Stark Tower."
Once Stark and Schiller were gone, only Johnson and Rhode remained. Johnson raged: "You damn lunatic! Rhodes! A soldier's duty is to obey orders! I'm your superior now—Andro's long retired!"
"Yeah," Rhode said calmly. "Retired with honor as a full general. Now he's in Congress, with a cushy job and a fat pension. Spent last winter in Hawaii. Granddaughter just got into Harvard…"
Johnson's mech detonated in another fit of rage.
When the smoke cleared, his voice spat venom: "You'll regret this, Rhodes. Stark can't be trusted. You'll regret ever calling him a friend.
"They're selfish, paranoid, unstable. They'll destroy everything. Their genius brains might save themselves—but never you. You're nothing but their guard dog."
Rhode stepped out of his armor, surveying the ruins. Around them, Spider-Man and Captain America were loading the wounded into ambulances. The city still bustled beyond the blast zone, life going on.
Dawn broke on the horizon, painting the sky purple and red.
"You're right," Rhode said quietly. "The Starks are a mess—reckless, spoiled, always leaving others to clean up their disasters. But Iron Man is different."
He gazed toward the rising light, unpinned his rank insignia, turned it over in his hand, then flicked it into Johnson's face.
"…Because Iron Man never retreats."