Leaving the coast behind, Henry felt like a fledgling tossed out of its nest—except this chick was flying at breakneck speed.
The high-altitude air currents were far more complicated than he expected. Sometimes he was thrown off balance by the wind, sometimes he overcompensated and nearly dove headfirst into the ocean.
His armor, aside from being stylish and offering strong defense, provided absolutely zero assistance with flight. Everything depended on him figuring it out on his own.
"Jarvis, I feel like a drunk seagull right now." Henry traced a wobbly path through the sky, grumbling nonstop.
"Seriously, this is harder than driving a race car. At least a car has a steering wheel. I'm running on pure willpower here—it's so damned idealistic, not scientific at all."
"Sir, based on the principles of aerodynamics, you could try channeling your energy more evenly through your feet while keeping your core muscles stable," Jarvis suggested in his calm, patient tone.
"Stop. Just stop." Henry rolled his eyes.
"Don't throw science at me. I am science gone wrong. What I need is practice—lots of practice."
And so, for the next hour, Henry was like a kid with a brand-new toy.
He played around above the Pacific, diving from the sky, skimming the ocean surface, sending up white sprays of seawater in his wake.
At one point he even raced alongside a pod of dolphins—until his sheer speed nearly traumatized the poor creatures for life.
Once he'd gotten a better handle on flying, he finally remembered why he was in the air to begin with.
"Alright, fun's over. Jarvis, run a test on my top speed. While you're at it, chart me the best route to Kunar Province, Afghanistan."
"Yes, sir. Please fly at maximum output in a straight line. I'll calculate via satellite."
Henry inhaled deeply and unleashed his power without restraint.
His body became a streak of black lightning, shattering the sound barrier in an instant, leaving behind a dramatic white sonic boom ring.
A few minutes later, Jarvis reported: "Sir, your peak speed has stabilized around Mach 1. At this rate, reaching the target area will take approximately ten hours and fifteen minutes."
"What? Only Mach 1?" Henry slowed, his face twisted in disdain.
"That's barely faster than our slowest private jet! I was hoping for light speed or something. Fine, fine, I'm joking. Still… by the time I get there, let's hope Tony hasn't already started shaking hands with the terrorists."
"Sir, your physical condition is still improving. Your speed has significant room for growth," Jarvis offered reassuringly.
"The future is the future. I'm stuck with the present." Henry sighed and resigned himself to the long flight.
"Ten hours it is. At least I don't need a boarding pass or airport security."
The journey dragged on, endless sky above and endless sea below.
"Jarvis, don't just sit there. Talk to me," Henry said, yawning. "Let's analyze. Where do you think my idiot brother's most likely being held?"
Bored out of his mind—even though he already knew Tony was in a cave—Henry could only keep himself entertained by chatting.
"According to military intel, the attack occurred in a mountainous region of Kunar Province. The terrain is complex, riddled with caves. To hide hostages and weapons, the terrorists would most likely choose a defensible natural cave as a base."
A holographic map unfolded before Henry, locations marked in red.
"Yeah, that fits their twisted aesthetic." Henry rubbed his chin.
"They grabbed Tony for two reasons: either to force him to build weapons, or to ransom Stark Industries. But they seriously underestimate my brother's temper. That bastard would rather die than make weapons for terrorists. Which means he's definitely cooking up some kind of escape plan."
"Your analysis aligns with my calculations, sir. Mr. Stark has a high probability of secretly constructing escape equipment using whatever materials the terrorists provide."
"Exactly. That guy's brain runs on three things: women, parties, and machines. Mostly machines." Henry shook his head with a sigh.
"So, he'll need a place that offers basic tools and materials, and is hidden enough to work without interference. Jarvis, cross-reference for caves near metal deposits."
"Filtering… done. Three locations stand out as most probable. They are located in—"
And so the hours passed, Henry and Jarvis bouncing theories back and forth, dissecting every possibility.
The comics and movies never said which cave Tony was in. That part was on Henry to figure out.
They cracked jokes about Tony's screw-ups, bitched about Stark Industries' mess, and for a while, it felt less like a dangerous rescue mission and more like a casual international road trip.
Ten hours later, the endless blue ocean gave way to barren desert and jagged mountains. Henry knew he'd arrived.
"Well, this place is a dump." He hovered over Afghanistan, wrinkling his nose at the desolate view.
"Sand everywhere, not a single tree in sight. Dry, hot, smells like gunpowder. How the hell does my brother survive here? There's not even a decent bar."
He closed his eyes and focused.
The serum had enhanced more than just his strength and flight. His senses were sharper across the board.
Now, he could pick up voices from kilometers away—a weaker but still potent form of super hearing.
In an instant, sound poured in like a flood.
The rustle of sand in the wind. Vultures squabbling over carrion. The rumble of a patrol truck's engine. Soldiers chatting in Arabic. Even the faint scrape of a lizard crawling across a rock ten kilometers away.
Every sound amplified, layered on top of each other, until his brain throbbed from the noise.
"Damn, this is not pleasant."
Henry grit his teeth, sifting through the chaos like a sound engineer tuning frequencies, filtering out the noise until…
He caught it.
The sharp clanging of hammer on metal.
And then, a voice. A voice he knew far too well—dripping with arrogance and sarcasm.
"Yinsen, I'm telling you, once we get out of here, the very first thing I'm doing is buying up every single kebab shop in the Middle East and turning them into pizza joints! This stuff is disgusting!"
Another, gentler and older voice replied: "Tony, maybe we should focus on escaping first."
"Of course, of course, I'm working on it," Tony shot back.
"You'll see, Yinsen—this is going to be the greatest invention of my life! It'll get us out of this hellhole! Sure, the materials are trash, and they don't even have decent spray paint. This tin-can color is totally unworthy of my handsome face. God, I wonder how Henry's doing. Without me watching him, he's probably off chasing—"
Found him!
Henry's eyes snapped open, a grin spreading across his face.
The cave was about fifteen kilometers away.
"Got you, idiot brother. Hang tight—I'm coming to take you home."
With that, his body blurred into a dark streak, silently cutting through the sky toward the source of the sound.