"I know what you're thinking."
Tony drained the last of his Silk Stocking milk tea and spoke calmly.
"You're blocking signals in this semi-enclosed space. No armor. No Leon. No remote summon."
"You think that means you've got me."
The mercenary leader grinned.
"Impressive, Tony Stark. Correct."
"No prize, though."
He tossed a combat knife at Tony's feet.
"I'm not a monster. Kill yourself here and now, and I'll let the little girl go."
He laughed.
The knife clattered against the concrete.
Tony didn't move.
Instead, he smiled.
"You're underestimating the bond between brothers."
"If I call him, he'll come."
"Why?"
"Because I'm Tony Stark—Iron Man."
"Older brother of Leon Stark."
The leader's eyes narrowed.
Tony suddenly raised both arms dramatically—
As if summoning something divine.
Silence.
Nothing happened.
The leader exhaled sharply.
"Nice bluff."
"Kill him."
Tony coughed lightly.
"…He might be stuck in traffic."
Gunfire erupted.
But elsewhere—
Inside Stark Tower—
The Mark VI armor disassembled automatically.
Panels, gauntlets, boots, chest segments—
They burst through the office's reinforced windows and rocketed toward Tony's location.
Rather than take elevators—
They spiraled downward, drilling directly through structure and concrete, choosing the shortest path possible while avoiding civilian casualties.
The underground parking garage trembled.
Gunfire slowed.
Then stopped.
Smoke cleared.
Tony stood unharmed.
Dozens of bullets hovered around him—
Suspended midair—
Forming a rotating metallic halo.
The assassins froze.
What the hell?
Wasn't he just a normal man?
The intel had been wrong.
Very wrong.
Above—
The ceiling exploded.
Armor components punched through reinforced concrete and converged instantly around Tony.
He grinned.
"Missed you."
Piece by piece—
The Mark VI assembled over him in midair.
The mercenaries had heavier weapons—
But the spectacle paralyzed them.
When the helmet sealed—
Death arrived.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., lock all targets."
"Confirmed, sir."
Tony flipped upside down midair—
Spinning.
From both wrists—
Twin crimson energy beams flashed outward.
Clean.
Precise.
Every mercenary's skullcap was sliced flat in a synchronized sweep.
Concrete echoed with wet impacts.
The little girl broke free from the collapsing corpse of the leader and ran toward Tony.
"Uncle!"
Tony opened his faceplate and knelt.
"It's okay."
But just before she reached him—
Her cheeks puffed.
Two purple-tinted silver needles shot from her mouth—
Directly toward his exposed eyes.
Thuk. Thuk.
Tony's head jerked backward—
The girl leapt into his armored chest.
"Uncle… are you cold?"
"Let me warm you."
Her smile was innocent.
Perfect.
Tony slowly straightened his head.
The two needles hovered in midair—
Exactly 2.5 centimeters from his eyes—
Suspended.
Moving with him.
The girl's expression shattered.
Impossible.
"I heard them hit—!"
"You mean this?" Tony said casually.
Thuk. Thuk.
He reproduced the sound flawlessly.
Inside his throat, a micro-metal reed vibrated—shaped by his magnetic control to mimic impact audio.
The girl's voice dropped.
Distorted.
Old.
"You tricked me!"
"No, no."
Tony tilted her chin upward.
"Life is about finding joy within the boundaries you control."
"Call me 'uncle' again."
"Maybe I'll spare you."
Instant transformation.
Tears.
Shaking voice.
"Uncle…"
Tony's smile faded.
"Children are treasures."
"Using sympathy as a weapon?"
"You're filth."
"You've killed before. That means you understood the risks."
He tightened his arms.
Hydraulic pressure.
She clawed.
Bit.
Kicked.
Her voice reverted—aged, furious, terrified.
"Stop! Stop! Don't—!"
Tony's gaze remained steady.
Cold.
"Sleep."
Bone cracked.
He released her.
The small body fell limp to the ground.
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