The bald figure thought Tony was fleeing and laughed through the comms, his voice echoing in the night sky.
"Ha–ha–ha–ha–ha! Tony, you can't run away…"
As he spoke, the Iron Monger's massive frame belched thick black smoke, the exhaust trailing behind him like a dark column visible even under the glow of the city lights.
"Damn, that's some serious pollution. You're not gonna do something about that?" Lock said dryly to Coulson.
"Uh…" Coulson was caught off guard. Who in their right mind cares about environmental hazards right now? "That's… not exactly our department."
Tony climbed higher and higher into the sky. His suit's power reserves were nearly drained, but retreat wasn't an option. If he couldn't hold out long enough for Stane's armor to ice over, he'd be dragged down midair.
He glanced at the ground far below and thought, I wonder if Lock can even jump this high. Probably not. Otherwise, I'd just ask him to come get me.
Somehow, without realizing it, Tony had begun to depend on Lock. The feeling was so subtle that it went unnoticed even by him.
On the ground, Lock heard a chime in his mind:
Ding…
"Iron Man's trust level increased. Luck share: 60%."
At last, fortune favored him. At roughly [–] meters in altitude, the Iron Monger's armor froze solid — just like Tony's had in an earlier test flight. It lost power entirely, plummeting toward the city.
The hulking machine slammed into the street near his apartment.
Tony barely had a moment to breathe. His power reserves were shot. Switching to emergency backup, he used stuttering reverse thrusters to guide himself toward Stark Tower for a rough landing.
He touched down — and was immediately tackled from behind.
The Iron Monger wrapped massive arms around him, the servos whining with crushing force as Stane tried to squeeze the life out of him.
Tony fired off a burst of countermeasure flares. Designed to scramble missile targeting systems, the searing red flashes instead blinded Stane.
The giant's grip faltered. Tony slipped free.
In the original timeline, Tony had lured Stane to the top of Apartment and signaled Pepper to overload the large Arc Reactor, blasting the Iron Monger with an upward surge of raw energy.
But Pepper, now far from the battlefield under Coulson's escort, wasn't here to trigger that plan.
"Lock, my good friend," Tony said between panting breaths, "how about lending a hand?"
Even at a disadvantage, Tony couldn't resist delivering the line with that trademark Playboy bravado.
Lock smirked. "I've got an idea — lead him to the roof. I'll overload the Arc Reactor myself. The energy spike will fry him."
"You're crazy! Do you have any idea how much that reactor costs?!" Tony shot back.
"Oh, by the way — you still haven't paid me for that takeout after I rescued you from the desert."
"Fine, fine! Just finish him. Your call."
Seeing the Iron Monger charging him again, Tony lost any pretense of calm. "Seriously, Lock, now would be great!"
"Alright."
Lock bent his knees and launched upward with a thunderous crack, landing on the rooftop in an instant.
"Baldy — let him go!"
BOOM!
Lock's kick sent the Iron Monger skidding across the rooftop.
Instead of panic, Stane laughed. "Perfect timing. Try my new toys."
Panels unfolded from the Iron Monger's shoulders, arms, waist, and legs, revealing eight weapon systems — missile pods, rotary cannons, and laser emitters.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! — missiles streaked out.
Click-click-click-click! — the Gatling guns roared to life.
In seconds, a storm of firepower engulfed Lock, swelling into a blazing fireball that lit the skyline.
From a safe distance, Tony winced. Even inside his armor, that kind of barrage could be fatal. Could Lock survive it?
The fireball began to move.
Step by step, Lock advanced through the hail of munitions, the explosions rolling harmlessly off him. The look on Stane's face shifted from confidence to horror.
Lock reached out, grabbed the Iron Monger's mechanical arm, and wrenched it free with a sickening crack — tearing it off at the shoulder mount.
"Aaagh!" Stane's scream was half rage, half agony.
Lock didn't stop. He ripped the breastplate away, then smacked the helmet clean off.
For greed and power, Stane had armed terrorists, caused countless civilian deaths, and orchestrated Tony's kidnapping. This ending was merciful.
"I'll let you handle the rest," Lock told Tony. "And hey — next time, make me some proper clothes. Something stylish, but able to take missiles and bullets. I'm tired of looking like a beggar after every fight."
Tony sighed. "Even my armor can barely manage that. Where am I supposed to find that kind of material?"
"You're a genius. You'll figure it out."
Sirens wailed in the streets below as police flooded the area.
Rhodes could keep the military out of this, but not the NYPD.
Lock stepped back. Whatever came next was Tony's to handle.
The following day, a press conference was called.
The chaos of last night's battle — from Stark Tower, to the freeway, and into the skies — had left dozens injured and wrecked countless vehicles. Public explanation was unavoidable.
Rhodes stood before the cameras, forcing a straight face. "Yesterday, two prototype combat drones from Stark Industries malfunctioned, causing a temporary incident. Thankfully, one of Mr. Stark's bodyguards intervened, saving him. Vice President Obadiah Stane was tragically killed in the accident."
When it was Tony's turn, he began reading from Coulson's carefully prepared script — until a striking female reporter cut in.
"Mr. Stark, do you expect us to believe that? There are rumors about a superhero called Iron Man — and people say that's you!"
Tony forced an awkward smile. "I'm not a superhero… not the type of guy who…"
"Really?" she teased, lips curling into a playful smile.
Tony recognized her — a one-night stand. Pepper had been the one to see her out with fresh clothes and a discreet ride. No strings. No drama.
But under her gaze, Tony's ego couldn't resist. His brain overrode his better judgment.
"That's right," he said. "I am Iron Man."
The room erupted.
Thus was born the first public superhero of the modern age — the one who would save countless lives and face down the most dangerous threats to come.
And with him, the age of supervillains truly began.
Lock scrolled through the headlines. No surprise — Tony had outed himself. It was pure Stark: flashy, reckless, impossible to ignore.
Lock hadn't bothered to hide his existence, but Fury had buried every trace — from the battle with Hulk and Abomination in New York to last night's rooftop fight. Nothing could be found online.
That suited Lock just fine. The lower his profile now, the more time he had to grow stronger.
From tripling the Hulk's power to now, his fighting skills have improved, but his raw strength hasn't increased further. Unlike the Hulk, whose rage could push him to limitless heights, Lock's borrowed power seemed capped. Without some breakthrough, he'd be stuck at this level forever — not enough to face the future's worst threats.
For now, he kept training and refining his combat style.
Meanwhile, Tony's newfound fame drew trouble fast.
Hammer Industries, Stark's biggest rival, accused him of endangering national security and pushed to force him to surrender the Iron Man suit's technology.
Summoned to a Senate hearing, Tony's defiance and wit turned the proceedings into a spectacle. Applause followed him out, leaving Hammer and his political allies seething.
They'd hoped public pressure would corner him. Instead, Tony ended the session with a single line:
"I successfully privatized world peace."
The cameras loved it.
Far away in Siberia, a burly man in a white tank top leaned on a table covered in schematics — the design for Tony's Arc Reactor among them.
Chewing a toothpick, he glared at the TV.