When the massive poseidon slowly docked at the private pier in New York Harbor, it was greeted by a timely autumn rain.
Obadiah Stane was the first to rush out of the car. He opened his arms and gave Tony, who had just stepped off the gangway, a forceful, "survivor's" hug.
"Oh, thank God Almighty! Tony, you're finally back!"
Tony pushed him away subtly, a weary smile on his face, though his tone carried a hint of appropriate sorrow: "It wasn't too bad, Obie. But... Bob didn't make it back."
He specifically mentioned the engineer Obadiah had sent to the submarine.
The concern on Obadiah's face froze for a split second. A flash of undetectable shock and panic crossed those shrewd eyes, but it was immediately and perfectly masked by a deeper grief.
"Oh, no..." He beat his chest in anguish, "Poor Bob! What a tragedy! Tony, I'm so sorry you had to go through this."
Watching Obadiah's Oscar-worthy performance, Tony sneered inwardly, but on the surface, he only gave a weary nod.
In a black sedan not far away, Coulson put down his binoculars.
"The first round of testing is over. It seems they're both excellent actors."
-
For the next two weeks, Tony Stark almost vanished from the public eye.
In reality, he was spending twenty-four hours a day in his underground lab, pouring all his heart and soul into a brand-new "toy."
"Sir, the titanium alloy coating for the arm armor is complete."
"Sir, you have been working continuously for over 36 hours."
The blinding sparks of electric welding and the roar of robotic arms composed a symphony of steel.
A streamlined, red-and-gold suit of armor was being assembled piece by piece.
This was the mark 3, a true War Machine.
Meanwhile, Lin Huai had also entered a state of seclusion. He devoted all his energy to meditation and analyzing the hard-won Lava Octopus blood, gathering strength for digesting the potion and preparing for his next promotion.
Both sides were gathering strength for the coming storm.
-
Two weeks after returning from the sea, Tony Stark made a high-profile appearance at a charity gala hosted by Stark Industries.
Just as he was chatting happily with Obadiah, a familiar figure blocked his path—Christine Everhart, a reporter for Vanity Fair.
She didn't waste words and slapped several photos onto Tony's chest.
"What is this about?"
The photos showed a group of Ten Rings militants using brand-new Stark Industries weapons to attack a small town called Gulmira—Yinsen's hometown.
The smile on Tony's face vanished instantly.
"I shut down the Weapons Division," he said coldly.
"Did you?" Christine pressed aggressively. "But they're still using your weapons. Tell me, Tony, can you really sleep at night after seeing this?"
Tony stared at the photos, the transport records and batch numbers of those weapons flashing through his mind. He looked up sharply, past Christine, at Obadiah, who was chatting and laughing with high-ranking Military officials in the distance.
A chilling thought surfaced in his mind.
Obadiah seemed to sense his gaze and walked over, familiarly putting an arm around Christine's shoulder to lead her away. "Now, now, this isn't the place to talk business."
Watching Obadiah's back, the warmth in Tony's eyes completely disappeared.
He turned and left the gala.
"Jarvis," Tony said, his voice terrifyingly calm as he sat in his car, "get the 'Dragon Fruit' painted armor ready for me."
A red-and-gold streak of light pierced the night sky, racing toward Gulmira at Mach 3.
When Tony arrived, he saw the Ten Rings forcing a group of men against a wall, holding Stark Industries-made rifles high.
Boom!
The mark 3 descended like a god from the heavens, slamming down between the militants and the hostages.
Faced with this sudden steel Monster, the Terrorists fired in a panic, but the bullets struck the titanium alloy armor, producing only futile sparks.
The micro-missile launchers on Tony's shoulders opened, and several small grenades accurately blew the Terrorists away. Then, he raised his right arm, and the energy cannon in his palm blasted a tank into scrap metal.
Finally, he turned and flew toward the valley, detonating the massive stockpile of Stark Industries weapons the Terrorists had hoarded, along with the entire cave, sending flames soaring into the sky.
However, the trouble had only just begun.
"Sir, detecting two high-speed targets. They are F-22 Raptors," Jarvis's voice rang out.
The next second, Rhodes's call came through.
"Tony? You'd better tell me the truth. Your transponder is off. Is there some fun going on that I don't know about?"
"Rhodes, honey," Tony replied with his signature tone while easily dodging, "I'm in my convertible right now, don't make such a fuss."
"Don't play with me!" Rhodes roared over the phone. "I'm looking right at you! They're about to fire!"
To slow down quickly, Tony deployed the airbrakes on his back. One of the trailing F-22s couldn't react in time, and its left wing instantly clipped the mark 3's hard armor!
Bam!
The F-22's wing was severely damaged, and the jet immediately spiraled out of control!
"Mayday! Mayday!" The pilot's frantic cries rang out on the public channel.
The pilot decisively chose to eject, but misfortune struck again—his parachute straps were jammed and wouldn't open!
Tony didn't hesitate for a second, immediately turning around and diving after him. In the high-speed descent, he accurately closed in on the pilot, reached out with a steel arm, and yanked the jammed parachute open!
The parachute bloomed, and the pilot was saved.
"He's okay!" the other pilot's voice came over the public channel, filled with relief.
On the way back, Tony dialed Rhodes's private number.
This time, there wasn't a hint of flippancy or joking in his tone.
"Rhodes, it's me."
There was a long silence on the other end before Rhodes's voice sounded strained: "...It's you?"
"It's me," Tony confessed. "The thing in the sky just now... was me."
Another deathly silence followed.
"That plane..." Rhodes's voice trembled slightly. "What are we going to do? The pilot reported being hit by an unidentified flying object... the Pentagon will be in an uproar tomorrow."
"You have to help me, Rhodes," Tony said seriously. "You need an explanation, right? Just say... a training accident. A bird strike, say whatever you want."
"That's not my style, Tony."
"But this isn't a drill anymore," Tony said deeply. "I can't do this alone. I need you, Rhodes."
After a long silence, a weary sigh came from Rhodes over the phone.
"Fine... training accident. Don't let it happen again."
-
On the way back, Tony finally dialed Lin Huai's number.
Soaring at ten thousand meters, his voice was filled with unprecedented, heartfelt excitement and pride.
"Lin! You'll never guess what I just did! I saved a village! I blew up my own weapons! And I even saved an Air Force pilot while I was at it!"
"This feeling... this feeling is more satisfying than making ten billion dollars!"
Lin Huai could imagine Tony at this moment, like a child who had just gotten a new toy and couldn't wait to show it off to the whole World.
He listened calmly until Tony's excitement subsided slightly.
"Congratulations on finding a new direction."
On the other end of the phone, Tony was filled with unprecedented confidence.
He didn't know that his impromptu "performance" of Justice had completely stepped on Obadiah Stane's sore spot.
A long-brewing conspiracy was about to erupt early because of it.