Lucas's armor was made of advanced alloys, yes—but it wasn't vibranium.
No matter how tough it was, it couldn't withstand endless streams of high-caliber ammo.
Tony glanced at Rhodey's War Machine and snorted.
"Did you mount an entire weapons depot on that thing? Zero aesthetics. Absolutely hideous."
Even now, he still had the mood to mock Rhodey.
Rhodey, however, was in no mood for jokes.
Every weapon system on his suit suddenly locked onto Tony again.
"Tony! My weapons are auto-targeting you—I can't stop it!"
He shouted with everything he had, and this time his voice finally managed to cut through the suit's jammed speakers.
"Damn it! Rhodey, who did you hand that armor over to?! After this is over I'm taking it back—personally—and smashing it into pieces!"
To avoid hurting civilians, Tony shot upward.
Rhodey's armor followed helplessly, and behind him, over thirty rogue Hammer drones rose too—all locking onto Tony in pursuit.
"That bastard Vanko! If I ever get my hands on him—!"
A barrage of bullets and rockets streaked toward Tony as he zig-zagged through the air, cursing nonstop.
"Lucas! Bro! You're not seriously going to watch me die here, right?!"
Lucas pulled out his phone, recorded a few seconds of Tony fleeing for his life, then finally answered:
"Of course not. We're brothers. I'd never watch you fall into danger."
Tony lit up. "Good man!"
Then Lucas added cheerfully:
"That's why I'll just close my eyes and not look!"
"Alright, don't blame me for what happens next!!"
Tony abruptly dove—straight toward Lucas.
"Seriously?! You old gremlin, that's dirty!"
Lucas cursed and shot upward on Onion's back.
From below, the scene looked like a game of tag:
Lucas fleeing for his life → Tony chasing him → Rhodey (unwillingly) chasing Tony → a whole fleet of killer drones chasing Rhodey.
Wanda stared upward, horrified.
"Did… the drinks from two nights ago fry their brains?"
Skye nodded immediately. Pepper looked like she might faint from worry.
High above, Lucas continued dodging gunfire, when suddenly a thought struck him—something he needed to test.
He summoned Judgment into his hand.
Bang!
Timing it perfectly, he fired.
A blue round streaked through the sky and punched clean through the arc reactor on a drone's chest, leaving a wide, bowl-sized hole.
The drone sputtered, lost all power, and plummeted—shattering into pieces on impact.
"It works!"
Lucas brightened.
Judgment was lethal against anything non-human.
He hadn't expected mechanical life to count too—but apparently it did.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Shot after shot rang out.
Drone after drone dropped from the sky.
Within minutes, the original thirty-plus drones had been reduced to fewer than ten.
"Beautiful work, Lucas!" Tony whooped as he fired repulsor blasts into the remaining drones.
With the new element powering his suit, Tony's energy output was leagues beyond his old model—no more rationing repulsors. Now he could fire freely without fear of drain.
---
Meanwhile, Happy sped through dense traffic with Natasha in the back seat.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had already pinpointed Vanko's location, and they were rushing there now.
Natasha was changing into her combat suit—right there in the car.
Happy's eyes kept drifting toward the rearview mirror, practically glued to the sight of pale skin and a flawless figure.
Honk!
The blaring horn from another car jolted him.
He jerked the wheel back into position.
"Eyes forward," Natasha said flatly. "And drive carefully."
She lifted one long, jade-smooth leg to pull on her suit pants, and Happy's throat went dry.
"S-sorry!"
He faced forward, but his gaze still flicked to the mirror every few seconds.
Soon, Natasha was fully geared up—and they arrived.
"I'm going in. You stay with the car and be ready to assist."
The Black Widow stepped out—curves, confidence, and lethal grace on full display.
"What? Hey, I'm a skilled fighter! Don't underestimate me."
Happy puffed out his chest.
No way he was staying behind.
"Fine," Natasha said coolly. "Come with me. Just don't slow me down."
The moment they stepped inside, a massive security guard appeared.
"Leave him to me!"
Happy cracked his knuckles, assumed a boxer's stance, and rushed forward.
Natasha didn't even glance back—she simply continued deeper inside.
Down one corridor, nearly ten guards rushed her from both sides, all armed with shock batons.
"Oh? Looks like I get to have some fun."
She smiled faintly and walked forward.
"Get her!"
"She's alone!"
They swarmed.
Natasha moved like a dance of blades—fluid, precise, effortless.
In mere seconds, every guard lay sprawled unconscious on the floor.
She finished with a scissor-leg takedown and a perfectly graceful superhero landing.
"Woohoo! I did it! I took him down!"
Happy staggered back into view—soaked in sweat—very proud of finally knocking out his single opponent.
Then he turned and saw the hallway behind Natasha—ten men down, all perfectly neutralized.
His excitement died instantly, replaced by the deepest, quietest despair.
"Come on," Natasha said sweetly. "Let's find Vanko."
He followed, deflated.
Soon, they located the correct room.
Natasha drew her pistol, and they approached quietly.
"Kick the door."
Happy nodded, braced himself, and delivered a full-force kick.
BOOM!
The door flew off its hinges.
Natasha slid inside like a striking serpent.
"Don't move!"
She froze.
The room was empty.
No Vanko—only banks of computers… and a prominent countdown timer ticking away.
Her expression darkened.
She rushed to the keyboards, trying to bypass the program—but after several attempts, she hissed in frustration.
"Damn it! Should've brought Skye."
She kicked the desk hard, pulled out her phone, and dialed.
"Skye, I've got a problem. I need you—there's a program here I can't crack."
Natasha spoke fast, urgency sharp in her voice.
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