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Chapter 60: The Battle Against the Iron Monger
🕑 Added 2025-10-17 16:16:21 +0000 UTCAt the same time, heavy S.H.I.E.L.D. reinforcements finally arrived. They didn’t bring much in the way of heavy weaponry, but under Coulson’s command, they quickly sealed off every street in the area.
Unlike how things went in the original timeline, the S.H.I.E.L.D. blockade cleared out all civilians and traffic, leaving the streets deserted. That gave Tony Stark the freedom to unleash his full power without worrying about collateral damage.
> “Tony Stark!”
Obadiah’s voice thundered through the Iron Monger’s speakers as he lumbered forward, his mechanical steps cracking the asphalt beneath him.
> “I have to admit, your genius truly is something to behold! To think you built a weapon this advanced. Join me, Tony! Together, we can rule this planet as its ultimate masters!”
Tony’s visor glowed faintly as he hovered, eyes narrowing behind it. “Where did you even learn about this tech?”
The Iron Monger loomed over him, massive and menacing.
Obadiah chuckled. “Oh, you mean the Iron Monger? Credit where it’s due, Tony—it all started with you. I don’t know how you destroyed that base in the Middle East, but in the wreckage, I found this masterpiece. Our ideas combined created something truly magnificent… a machine that can reshape the world!
Come, Tony! Join your Uncle Obadiah and let’s change humanity’s destiny!”
He spread his metal arms wide, the armor’s servos groaning as red light shone from its chest and eyes. The sheer bulk of it dwarfed Tony’s Mark III—like a giant facing an ant.
Tony smirked under his helmet. “Change the world? With that ugly oversized action figure of yours?”
A new voice cut in from behind Obadiah.
> “And who said you get to change anything?”
“Who’s there?!”
Obadiah spun around just in time to see a young man approaching, a crystalline sword strapped across his back.
It was Lucas. His face was dark with fury, his eyes cold enough to freeze the air itself.
He and Tony had arrived together—but Lucas had detoured to save Skye, who had been swatted into the air by the Iron Monger’s blow. Already gravely injured, she’d fallen unconscious immediately. Seeing that scene had snapped something inside Lucas. His killing intent now radiated like a storm.
Obadiah Stane was not walking away alive.
Lucas handed the unconscious Skye to Pepper, warning her sharply, “Don’t let S.H.I.E.L.D. take her. Not even Coulson. Got it?”
Pepper had nodded without hesitation. As one of the few people with full access to Stark Industries’ internal systems, she knew well enough that “agents” weren’t always to be trusted. She guarded Skye herself while medics worked on stabilizing her broken arms.
Now, Lucas turned back to the battlefield.
> “Who am I?” He sneered. “I’m your damn father.”
He shot forward like a cannonball, one foot slamming square into the Iron Monger’s chestplate.
BOOOOM!
The impact dented the armor inward with a deafening crunch, sending the massive machine crashing backward into a heap of twisted concrete and rebar.
Obadiah’s eyes went wide in disbelief—he hadn’t expected that much force from a man in plain clothes.
Before he could recover, Tony swooped in, unleashing a salvo of micro-missiles from his forearm launcher. A dozen explosions blossomed across the Iron Monger’s body in quick succession.
When the smoke cleared… not even a scratch.
The armor’s thick plates had taken the full barrage without flinching.
Lucas blinked. “Seriously, Tony? What the hell was that—fireworks?”
Tony scoffed. “They’re micro-tracking missiles! Top of the line! It’s not my fault this tin can’s built like a damn tank!”
In truth, Tony hadn’t loaded the Mark III with high-yield explosives. It was built for flight and defense, not total destruction. But he’d clearly underestimated his opponent.
Then came the roar of gunfire.
BRRRRRTTTT!
The Iron Monger’s chest-mounted rotary guns came to life, spewing a hailstorm of armor-piercing rounds. The air filled with tracers as chunks of concrete erupted around them.
Tony was forced to jet skyward, while Lucas dove behind an overturned car. Even Tony’s armor was being battered by the sheer volume of fire—Lucas, a man of flesh and blood, would’ve been shredded if he got caught.
“Tony!” Lucas shouted over the noise. “Draw his fire! I’ll take out that damn cannon!”
Tony got the message instantly. He shot upward again, firing repulsors and flares to pull Obadiah’s aim away from the ground.
The Iron Monger followed, its sensors locking onto the airborne target. Lucas was beneath its notice—a fatal mistake.
Typical of Obadiah—arrogant, overconfident, blind to anything that didn’t shine or scream money. Even after Lucas had dented his armor with a single kick, the man still saw Tony as the only threat, simply because Tony wore a suit.
Big mistake.
With a flicker of green light, wind gathered around Lucas’s feet.
He launched himself forward, his body a blur of afterimages.
SHHHK!
The crystal sword sliced through the air—and the Iron Monger’s machine-gun arm went spinning into the sky, the severed edge smooth as glass.
The kinetic backlash sent Obadiah’s entire frame staggering.
He stared at his ruined arm in shock. “Impossible! That alloy is custom-forged! No material on Earth could—how did you—what is that sword made of?!”
Lucas raised the blade, its translucent edge gleaming faintly in the firelight.
“You don’t need to know,” he said coldly. “All you need to do… is die.”
He swung again—
> “Damn you! Get away from me!”
Obadiah roared and fired his thrusters, the Iron Monger rocketing into the sky to escape.
Lucas tilted his head back, eyes narrowing. Then he pulled a small whistle from his belt—a chocobo whistle.
A sharp, triumphant cry echoed through the night as Onion, his chocobo, appeared in a burst of wind. One bite of a Gysahl Green later, Onion’s feathers bristled with energy, its eyes gleaming with battlelust.
With a shriek, the great bird spread its wings and shot upward after the Iron Monger.
High above, Tony and Obadiah were already clashing midair. Without his heavy machine gun, Obadiah relied on swarms of mini-missiles, his armor belching fire.
> “Tony!” Obadiah shouted over the comms. “You made your choice! Then die like your pathetic father!”
Missiles erupted in a dozen trails of fire, all locking onto the Mark III.
Tony’s systems screamed in warning. “Jarvis—countermeasures! Now!”
