Colonel James Rhodes rushed to Tony Stark's mansion the moment he got a call from Pepper Potts.
When he arrived, what he found chilled him to the bone, Tony was slumped on the ground, his chest bare and the arc reactor that kept him alive was missing.
"Tony!" Rhodey shouted, rushing forward. Thankfully, the original arc reactor, the one Tony had discarded but Pepper turned into a decoration, was lying nearby on the floor. He snatched it up and hurriedly installed it into the socket in Tony's chest.
A beat passed. Then Tony gasped and lurched forward, breathing hard, life returning to his eyes.
"What the hell happened here, Tony?" Rhodey asked, helping him sit upright.
But Tony's bloodshot eyes didn't linger on his friend. He staggered to his feet, ignoring the weakness in his limbs.
"No time, Rhodey. Pepper's in danger."
Without waiting for an answer, Tony went to put on his suit. Though powered by the outdated arc reactor and running on fumes, he still forced it on.
"What do you want me to do?" Rhodey asked seriously.
"Just keep the skies clear."
Within moments, he blasted off into the sky, leaving Rhodey behind, staring after him with concern… and just a touch of envy.
Meanwhile, Phil Coulson had arrived at Stark Industries before Tony. He wasn't alone, Pepper and several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were with him, following intel that something wasn't right.
That something turned out to be Obadiah Stane.
Inside a restricted sublevel, they found him encased in a monstrous, industrial version of Tony's armor, bigger, bulkier, and bristling with weapons. It was less a suit and more a walking tank.
The arc reactor pulsing in its core was clearly Tony's.
Coulson's expression hardened. "Everyone, fall back! Prioritize Miss Potts's safety!"
They turned to run, but Obadiah had already gone mad with power. The moment the suit activated, it was as if he lost all remaining humanity.
Cackling, he charged after the fleeing agents. Bullets bounced off his armor. One swing of his metal fist sent a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent flying like a ragdoll. Only half the team made it out alive.
The carnage soon spilled into the streets.
Pedestrians screamed and scattered. New Yorkers, hardened by chaos in recent weeks, from monster dogs to military base attacks, bolted like clockwork.
But those farther away? They did what New Yorkers do best, pulled out their phones and started recording.
Within minutes, every news outlet was broadcasting live.
In the center of the chaos, Obadiah stood, towering, glowing, and triumphant. The media attention only inflated his ego. He felt invincible, like a god among men.
When he spotted Pepper scrambling into a black SUV, his grin twisted.
"Running won't help," he sneered and launched himself in front of the vehicle, raising an arm to flatten it like tin foil.
Suddenly, a streak of red and gold cut across the sky.
Blasting down like a comet, he slammed into Obadiah with all the force his suit could muster. The two metal titans collided in the middle of the road with a deafening crash.
Obadiah fought like a wrecking ball, every move contained overwhelming brute force. Tony, on the other hand, was faster, sleeker, but his outdated arc reactor was a ticking time bomb. Energy readings were already in the red. He had a couple minutes at most before he ran out of energy.
The battle spilled into traffic. Cars exploded. Lamp posts shattered. Tony was clearly on the backfoot, pushed to his limits.
Obadiah grabbed a parked sedan and hurled it like a baseball. Tony dodged, retaliating with a repulsor blast that knocked his enemy off balance, but the damage was minimal.
Then, in the distance, a loud engine roared.
A bright yellow Camaro hurtled down the street at breakneck speed.
Obadiah turned, grinning beneath his helmet.
He stepped into the road, massive foot raised.
Onlookers watching from afar gasped.
"He's gonna crush it!"
Some screamed. Others pulled out their phones. And the more jaded ones… placed bets.
A reporter was narrating live:
"Ladies and gentlemen, tragedy continues to unfold here on the streets of New York. The black robot, clearly the aggressor, has caused destruction on an unprecedented scale. And now, as we speak, a yellow sports car is speeding straight toward him… perhaps unaware of the danger ahead."
The reporter paused dramatically.
"My God… do they want to die?"
Fire raged behind them. Explosions echoed. But the Camaro didn't slow down.
Inside, no one could see the faces of the passengers.
But that didn't stop people from assuming the worst.
More cars were burning. Civilians were fleeing. And the towering figure of Iron Monger stood like a demon in the flames.
The Camaro sped forward, unwavering.
Even the reporter lowered his mic, covering his eyes, "I can't watch…"