"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The impacts rang out like hammer strikes, each hit carrying brutal force as Rex Viper stepped in without hesitation. His fists moved in a clean, ruthless sequence—left hook, right hook, uppercut—flowing into a devastating nine-hit combo that tore straight through Obadiah's armor like it was nothing more than scrap metal.
Chunks of steel blasted loose and scattered across the ground, clanging and skidding in every direction. Sparks burst from torn wiring, and the central chest hatch was ripped clean off, exposing Obadiah's head to the open air like a target waiting to be claimed.
Tony Stark froze where he stood, mouth hanging open as he watched the scene unfold in disbelief. His brain struggled to catch up with what his eyes were seeing, and the contrast hit him hard.
The last time he'd seen this guy, he hadn't been anywhere near this level of raw brutality.
What the hell happened to him?
If I'd known… if I'd known he could do this, I would've gone to save Pepper myself and let him handle everything here!
Obadiah, on the other hand, was barely holding it together. His armor was half destroyed, his balance unstable, and his mind reeling from the sheer absurdity of what he was facing.
A man… tearing apart a combat mech with his bare hands?
This world had officially crossed into madness.
His teeth clenched hard enough to crack as rage surged through him, pushing aside fear. If that was the game now, then fine—he'd play it.
"Let's see who's crazier," he muttered under his breath, voice thick with fury.
Then his eyes flicked toward the surrounding facility, and something cold and calculating settled in.
This wasn't just any battlefield.
This was a Stark Industries weapons factory.
And that meant one thing.
He still had options.
With a sharp command, he triggered the armor's system. A signal pulsed outward, invisible but immediate in effect. Not far away, a workshop's automated roof panels split apart with a mechanical roar, revealing the launch system hidden beneath.
A second later, flames erupted.
One.
Two.
Three.
Three slender missiles blasted upward into the night sky, trailing fire as they climbed fast and clean.
Rex's eyes snapped upward, sharp as an eagle's, catching every detail in an instant. His expression changed immediately, tension locking into his frame as realization hit.
He didn't spare Obadiah another glance.
In a blur, he vanished from where he stood and reappeared directly in front of Stark.
"You absolute idiot," Rex snapped, grabbing Stark by the collar. "Weapons division's shut down, and somehow there are still three Jericho missiles active here? Are you out of your damn mind?"
Stark's gaze was locked on the missiles climbing higher and higher, his face draining of color as the implications crashed down on him.
"Obadiah…" he muttered, voice strained. "He's been managing the factory operations. I—I didn't know he kept those systems live."
Rex's jaw tightened. "Where are they headed?"
Stark hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "They should…"
The word barely left his mouth before Rex's instincts screamed.
Bad.
Very bad.
High above, the three missiles reached their apex. Their tail flames abruptly cut out, and for a split second, they hung suspended in the sky.
Then they turned.
And dove.
Rex's expression went flat.
"You actually built a U-turn function into those things?" he barked. "What were you thinking?"
Stark looked like he might collapse on the spot. "Cars sell better with more features! How was I supposed to know someone would actually use it like this?"
Rex exhaled sharply, eyes tracking the incoming missiles as they descended with terrifying speed. Their coverage area was massive—too wide, too fast.
There was no way to outrun it.
A voice echoed suddenly in his mind.
A system prompt.
The mission has been issued.
Rex didn't hesitate. He scanned it in a fraction of a second, decision forming instantly.
Grabbing Stark, he turned and pointed toward the massive Ark test reactor nearby.
"Overload it," he said, tone leaving no room for argument. "I need power. A lot of it."
Before Stark could respond, Rex hurled him toward the reactor platform.
Then he moved again.
Obadiah's armor was barely functional now, its propulsion system failing as he struggled to stay upright, clearly trying to escape the chaos he'd unleashed.
Rex appeared beside him like a shadow.
Dragon energy surged through his body, doubling his output in a heartbeat. His muscles tightened, power compressing into a single point before he drove his fist forward.
The impact was catastrophic.
The already-damaged armor couldn't handle it. It was blasted backward, seams ripping apart as structural integrity failed completely. Plates tore loose, systems collapsed, and the entire frame looked like it might disintegrate mid-air.
Obadiah was thrown clear, landing among the wreckage in a twisted heap, motionless.
Dead or alive—it didn't matter anymore.
Rex bent his knees, then launched himself skyward.
Below, the city had already begun to notice.
The Jericho missiles dropped lower, their casings splitting open mid-descent. What followed looked almost beautiful at first glance—countless submunitions spreading out across the sky like a blooming field of stars.
Cluster bombs.
If they landed, entire districts would vanish.
Dozens of city blocks would be erased in seconds.
Hundreds of thousands of lives—gone.
On the streets below, people stared upward in stunned silence. The night sky had transformed into something surreal, something terrifying.
Some children pointed upward, eyes wide with wonder.
"Dad… are those fireworks?"
Their parents didn't answer.
They couldn't.
Pepper Potts stood frozen on the roadside, her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat. As someone who worked at Stark Industries, she recognized the weapon instantly.
Her mind went blank.
New York was finished.
High above, three U.S. fighter jets circled at altitude, their pilots watching the unfolding disaster with growing disbelief.
They had never seen anything like it.
One pilot whispered into his mic, voice tight. "What the hell do we do?"
Another responded after a long pause. "We… can't do anything."
In the Air Force command room, the situation was no less grim.
Through satellite feeds and Global Hawk reconnaissance, Colonel James Rhodes and a room full of officers watched the same nightmare play out in real time.
Orders were issued rapidly, voices overlapping.
"Notify the White House."
"Notify the Pentagon."
"Activate the National Guard."
"Contact NYPD, emergency services—everyone."
But even as commands flew, everyone in the room understood one thing.
It was already too late.
Above the Ark reactor, Rex hovered in mid-air, watching the rain of destruction descend toward the city.
He wasn't panicking.
Instead, he opened the system interface again.
This time, it wasn't a single directive.
It was a choice.
Two missions.
One to save.
One to destroy.
His eyes flicked over the rewards, weighing them in a heartbeat.
Then he made his decision.
Without hesitation, he dismissed the second option entirely.
It wasn't sentiment.
It wasn't morality.
It was calculation.
Hell could wait.
Spreading his arms wide, Rex pointed one hand toward the sky and the other toward the reactor below.
A bolt of lightning exploded from his lower hand, slamming into the overloaded Ark reactor.
The response was immediate.
Energy surged upward in a violent cascade, the reactor dumping its entire output into him like a dam breaking. Silver-white lightning wrapped around his body, dozens—then hundreds—of arcs snapping and crackling as they latched onto him.
The force incinerated his outer clothing instantly, reducing fabric to ash.
Only the vibranium vest and shorts remained intact, absorbing what they could.
Power flooded through him.
More than he had ever held before.
His body lifted higher, carried by the energy as if gravity itself had lost its claim.
And then—
Under the desperate, disbelieving eyes of everyone watching—
A figure emerged in the sky.
Wrapped in roaring arcs of silver lightning, dragons of energy coiling around his form, he looked less like a man and more like something divine.
A savior descending into a dying world.
....
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