Even with his suit heavily damaged—warning lights blinking all over his HUD, multiple systems running at reduced capacity—Tony still somehow managed to reach the town relatively quickly.
The Mark IV wasn't at full power, not even close, but it was enough to get him there.
And the moment he arrived, hovering above the outskirts and seeing the destruction already beginning below, his mind immediately kicked into overdrive.
Thoughts collided violently inside his head as he desperately searched for any solution—any possible way to stop that rampaging green monster without completely leveling the entire town and everyone in it.
Think, think, think.
But the more he thought about it, the more angles he considered, the deeper the cold despair crept into his chest.
No matter how he calculated it, no matter what variables he adjusted, the result kept coming back the same.
Saving people was already completely out of reach.
He couldn't even defeat that monster in a straight fight—forget about protecting civilians at the same time. And now, because of his stupid interference, because of his arrogant belief that he could just fly in and handle everything, he didn't even know how many innocent people might lose their lives.
Just like before.
Just like Afghanistan, when his weapons—
"No," Tony muttered sharply, forcibly shaking his head inside the helmet. "This is not the time to feel helpless. Not now."
His jaw tightened with determination.
"I'm Tony Stark," he said firmly, as much to convince himself as anything else. "Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. There's nothing impossible for me. Nothing."
He lifted his head, forcing confidence into his voice.
"JARVIS, run a calculation. With our current power levels and remaining fuel… can we physically carry the Hulk into the upper atmosphere?"
There was a noticeable pause before JARVIS replied—longer than usual, which meant he was running serious numbers.
"Sir…" JARVIS began carefully, "if we utilize absolute full output from all remaining systems, redirect all non-essential power to propulsion, and accept critical damage to the armor's structural integrity… it is theoretically possible. Yes."
Tony's eyes sharpened.
Good. That's something.
"However," JARVIS continued in that same measured tone, "we would completely lack sufficient power reserves to return safely to ground level afterward. The probability of survival following such an action would be statistically negligible. In simpler, more direct terms—this would be suicide, sir."
Tony didn't hesitate even for a second.
"Don't worry about that part," he replied immediately, forced confidence bleeding through despite everything. "I'll figure something out on the way down. I always do."
He inhaled deeply, steeling himself.
"You just prepare the optimal flight path and calculate the trajectory. Leave the rest to me."
"…As you wish, boss."
There was something almost sad in JARVIS's tone, but Tony didn't have time to think about that.
He prepared to engage—
BOOM—!
A violent, absolutely massive gust of wind suddenly exploded past him from behind, the sheer force of it nearly destabilizing his already heavily damaged armor.
Warning alerts immediately started screaming in his ears.
"What—?!" Tony barked, his heart rate spiking. "JARVIS, what the hell just happened?! Did something hit us?"
"Sir," JARVIS replied instantly, sensors still processing, "an unknown object has just passed our position at approximately Mach 5 speed. I detected no weapons signature."
Tony's mind raced. Mach 5? In atmosphere? That's insane.
"…What flew past us?" he demanded. "Missile? Drone? Some kind of aircraft?"
"I was unable to record the object in sufficient detail due to its velocity," JARVIS admitted, which was rare—JARVIS could usually track everything. Then he added, almost conversationally: "However, sir, perhaps you could simply ask the man currently floating directly in front of you."
"…What?"
Tony frowned hard inside his helmet.
"JARVIS, do you have a virus or something?" he snapped, genuinely concerned now. "Did the crash damage your processors? How can anyone just casually fly without—"
His words died completely in his throat.
Cut off mid-sentence.
Because there really, genuinely was a man floating quietly in midair right in front of him, suspended perfectly as if gravity had simply forgotten he existed.
No visible propulsion.
No armor.
No jetpack.
Just… floating. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"…Fuck."
Tony just stared for a long moment, his brain struggling to process what his eyes were showing him.
"First there's a giant green rage monster that can flatten entire city blocks with his bare hands," he muttered, almost to himself, "and now there's just another guy casually floating in midair like it's no big deal."
He clenched his jaw, frustration mixing with disbelief.
"JARVIS, did I really fall behind that much?" he asked, voice slightly desperate. "Is relying on technology already outdated? Does everyone just get superpowers these days? Am I the only one still using actual engineering?"
JARVIS replied in his usual calm, measured tone.
"According to all existing databases that S.H.I.E.L.D. has shared with us, only five confirmed superpowered individuals are currently on record worldwide. Relative to a global population of approximately seven billion human beings, superpowered beings remain statistically insignificant—less than 0.0000001% of the population."
He paused deliberately.
"Therefore, your technology-based approach is not obsolete—yet, sir."
Tony's face twitched behind his faceplate.
"I was joking, JARVIS. That was rhetorical frustration."
"As was I, sir. That was what humans call 'banter.'"
"…Great," Tony muttered under his breath. "My AI learned sarcasm. That's just perfect."
But honestly, it didn't really matter how statistically rare superpowered people were anymore.
The moment the Hulk had been created—the instant that gamma radiation accident had made a man into a walking natural disaster—human technology had already entered its twilight years.
And now even his own supposedly loyal AI was trolling him.
Before Tony could continue arguing with his own computer, a calm, measured voice suddenly spoke from the opposite side.
"It is… unscientific."
The words were quiet, almost thoughtful.
Something inside Tony just snapped.
"Your mother is unscientific!" he shouted back instantly.
The words burst out before he could stop them, before his brain could catch up with his mouth.
Look, Tony could tolerate many things. He'd dealt with corporate rivals, military brass, annoying reporters, his own father's impossible expectations.
But a floating man criticizing his suit?
That crossed a line.
However, JARVIS interrupted immediately.
"Sir, I do not believe he was referring to you or your armor."
"What?"
Tony blinked, finally actually looking properly at the man floating before him instead of just staring in shock.
…Oh.
The guy wasn't even looking at Tony at all.
His gaze was fixed intently on something behind him, his expression focused and analytical.
A cold chill suddenly crawled up Tony's spine like ice water.
Oh no.
Slowly—very, very slowly—Tony turned around to look behind him.
The instant a massive green face, twisted with absolutely pure animalistic rage, filled his entire field of vision—
"AAAAAA—!"
Tony absolutely could not stop the high-pitched squeal that escaped his throat.
Not his proudest moment, but come on.
Before his heart could literally give out from shock, another violent gust of wind suddenly blasted past him with incredible force.
The Hulk shot by like a green cannonball, his massive body moving with terrifying speed and momentum.
His enormous fist swung forward with devastating force—aimed directly at the floating man's head.
Tony's eyes widened behind his faceplate.
He's dead, Tony thought instantly. Nobody could dodge that at this range.
But instead of panicking, instead of dodging wildly or retreating desperately—
The floating man simply stepped aside.
Just one single, perfectly casual sidestep.
As if he were standing on solid ground instead of empty air.
As if the laws of physics were more like friendly suggestions.
The Hulk's punch missed completely, his fist passing harmlessly through empty space where the man had been a fraction of a second earlier.
Then—
BAM—!
The floating man smoothly pivoted and drove a devastatingly powerful kick straight into the Hulk's exposed back.
The impact was clean.
Precise.
The Hulk had been attacking at terrifying speed—easily over a hundred miles per hour.
But now?
Now he was sent flying downward at more than twice that velocity, his massive body plummeting toward the ground below like a green meteor about to impact.
Tony just stared, completely speechless.
His brain had officially given up trying to process what he was seeing.
"…What the hell," he finally whispered.
"This… this is definitely unscientific."
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