"This is too easy."
He shook his head and set the car down steadily.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., calculate the results."
"Based on your muscle contraction and energy output, sir, your current base strength is approximately 45 tons. Additionally, the model shows your cells are still absorbing and converting light energy, and your strength continues to increase slowly but steadily."
"Forty-five tons? Not bad. At least I can handle some low-level bad guys," Henry said, flexing his wrists.
"Defense stats?" he asked. "Test with conventional weapons."
A few minutes later, seeing the simulations of bullets and small explosives bouncing off his skin without leaving a mark, Henry finally relaxed.
"Perfect. Bullets and RPGs? Short-term, I'm fine."
Now, he needed a suit—something that matched his current abilities.
"J.A.R.V.I.S.," he said, sitting at the console, eyes glinting with nostalgia, "pull up the armor designs I created previously."
"Understood, sir. Retrieving design data now," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied, calm and precise.
Henry's eyes scanned the holographic 3D models floating in the air. A small smile formed. "Perfect. The lines and functionality match what I need, but some tweaks are required."
He began adjusting the model.
"First, seal all exposed gaps. I want full coverage, like a battle suit worn over a tight layer, but still flexible."
"Second, use our latest composite titanium alloy, with an inner layer of energy-absorbing gel."
"And most importantly—face completely uncovered. My face is too handsome to hide under a helmet."
"Color will be matte black. Must look powerful, expensive, and lethal at first glance."
Like the most meticulous artist, he continued perfecting the design.
Hours passed before Pepper walked in, holding a cup of coffee.
"Henry, I knew I'd find you here," she said, a mix of fatigue and bright determination on her face.
"How's it going, Pepper?" Henry said without looking up, manipulating robotic arms to complete the armor.
"The evidence is secured," Pepper said, placing a data drive on the console. "Happy found Obadiah's secret Swiss bank accounts and the massive transfers to arms dealers connected to the Ten Rings. That's enough to make him rot in prison."
"Well done," Henry nodded approvingly.
"And the military recovered Tony's armored vehicle and briefcase in Afghanistan. Completely intact, but without Tony's biometric authorization, they couldn't open it."
Henry shook his head with a wry smile. "Knew he'd mess things up. At least nothing was lost. Once I'm back, everything goes back on track."
"You're going to Afghanistan? Alone?" Pepper's face went pale.
"Not just with this," Henry said, stepping up to a ten-centimeter-thick alloy plate and effortlessly twisting it into a coil.
Pepper's jaw dropped. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.
Hours later, the armor was finished.
Matte black, streamlined, perfectly fitted, the armor's plates resembled overlapping scales. It hugged his musculature like a second skin. Most importantly, there was no helmet—his face remained completely visible.
Henry stepped forward, and the armor automatically opened at the center. He stepped inside, the plates closed seamlessly around him.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., status report."
"All systems functioning, fully synchronized with your vital signs, sir. Suggested designation: Messenger Armor."
"Too cheesy," Henry muttered. "Call it Black God Armor. Short, sleek, badass."
He grabbed Tony's Mk II briefcase and stepped onto the balcony. The night was cool, stars twinkling over the ocean.
"Tony, wait. Your brother's coming to bring you home."
Bang! A white shockwave erupted, and Henry's black silhouette vanished into the night sky, racing toward the war-torn deserts to the east.