Malibu, California
The holographic displays cast ever-shifting patterns of light across Tony's workshop as he studied the latest kryptonite radiation data. His fingers moved through the air with practiced precision, manipulating three-dimensional molecular models while JARVIS ran calculations in the background. The new arc reactor in his chest hummed quietly, its blue glow mixing with the sickly green of the kryptonite readings on his screens.
"The cellular degradation patterns are fascinating," he muttered, more to himself than to JARVIS. "It's not just radiation damage - it's like the mineral is actively rewriting biological systems at a quantum level."
"Indeed, sir," JARVIS replied. "Though perhaps we should focus on the flight stabilizer calibrations? The Mark II components are ready for testing."
Tony's eyes lingered on the kryptonite data for a moment longer before he turned to where the silver components of his new suit waited. Day eleven of testing, and he still hadn't achieved stable flight. But then, revolution never came easy.
He slipped on the arm thrusters and boots, their weight already feeling natural after so many iterations. "Alright J, test thirty-seven, configuration two-point-zero." He glanced at DUM-E, who hovered nearby with the fire extinguisher at the ready. "And you - if you spray me one more time when I'm not actually on fire, I'm donating you to MIT. Let them deal with your over-enthusiastic safety protocols."
The robot ducked its arm slightly, managing to look chastised despite lacking any actual facial features. Tony couldn't help but smile - for all their quirks, his robotic assistants were family. Even if they did occasionally try to drown him in fire suppressant foam.
"Okay, let's keep it simple this time." He settled into position, knees slightly bent, arms out for balance. "Starting with one percent thrust capacity. Just enough to get a feel for it." His heart raced slightly despite his casual tone - every test brought him closer to something revolutionary, but also carried the risk of spectacular failure. "In three, two, one..."
The repulsors hummed to life, and Tony felt the familiar weightlessness as he lifted off the ground. Three meters up, hovering steadily despite a slight sway to the left. The stabilizers in his hands made minute adjustments, compensating for every small movement. This was what he'd been working toward - controlled flight, not just wild leaps and crashes.
"See?" he called down to DUM-E as he gently descended. "No fire extinguisher necessary. Though I swear I can feel you hoping for an excuse."
The robot lowered its extinguisher arm slightly, but Tony noticed it hadn't actually released its grip. "Seriously, stand down. If something catches fire - which it won't - then you can play hero. Otherwise, just watch and learn."
He settled his stance again, already calculating adjustments for the next test. "Let's push it a little - two-point-five percent thrust. Three, two, one..."
The increased power lifted him higher, but also made control more challenging. He drifted toward his collection of cars - very expensive, very crashable cars. "Nope, not that way," he muttered, adjusting the hand stabilizers. Papers went flying as he passed over his workbench, scattering designs and calculations across the floor.
"Note to self - clean up workspace before testing experimental flight tech." He managed to redirect himself back to the designated testing area, though the effort left him breathing harder than he'd like to admit. "Could be worse," he reminded himself as he touched down. "Could be wearing the Mark I and trying to escape terrorists."
DUM-E immediately raised the extinguisher, earning an emphatic finger-point from Tony. "No! What did we just discuss? No foam unless there are actual flames. Which there aren't. And won't be. Probably."
The robot lowered its arm again, somehow managing to convey disappointment in its mechanical movements. Tony shook his head, but couldn't completely suppress his grin. "Yeah, I can fly. Not gracefully yet, but we'll get there."
He moved to where the rest of the Mark II waited, its silver surface reflecting the workshop lights. This wasn't the crude survival suit he'd built in a cave - this was the future, taking shape one component at a time. As robotic arms began attaching pieces of armor, Tony felt that familiar mix of excitement and trepidation that came with pushing boundaries.
The mask was the last piece, sliding into place with a soft click. Inside, displays flickered to life as JARVIS initialized the heads-up interface. "Good evening, sir. Shall I begin the standard diagnostic sequence?"
"Let's do a full systems check first," Tony replied, watching information scroll past his field of vision. "Import all preferences from the home interface - I want this to feel natural."
Data streams painted his world in shades of blue and gold, every surface tagged with information. Distance measurements, structural analysis, temperature readings - a constant flow of data that should have been overwhelming but instead felt like an extension of his own senses. This was what he'd been working toward, even before Afghanistan - perfect integration of human and machine.
"Fully uploaded and online, sir," JARVIS reported. "Shall I begin the virtual walk-around?"
"Do it. And let's check those control surfaces while we're at it." Tony flexed his hands inside the gauntlets, feeling the suit respond like a second skin. Plates shifted and adjusted from his feet up, each piece moving in perfect synchronization. This wasn't just armor - it was a symphony of engineering, every component working in harmony.
The arc reactor in his chest pulsed slightly stronger, as if responding to the suit's power demands. He'd solved the palladium core degradation issue that had plagued his early designs, but something still nagged at him. The kryptonite radiation patterns they'd been studying - there was something there, some potential he hadn't quite grasped yet.
"Test complete," JARVIS announced. "Shall I power down and begin detailed diagnostics?"
Tony's lips curved into what Pepper called his 'about to do something reckless' smile. "Yeah, about that. Run a weather and ATC check instead. And start monitoring ground control."
"Sir," JARVIS's tone carried that particular note of AI exasperation that Tony was quite proud of having programmed, "there are terabytes of calculations needed before an actual flight is attempted. The structural dynamics alone-"
"JARVIS." Tony cut him off, already feeling the familiar rush of anticipation. "Sometimes you got to run before you can walk. Or in this case, fly before you thoroughly analyze every possible variable. Ready?"
He could almost hear the digital sigh in JARVIS's brief pause. The AI had learned that particular tone meant its creator had already made up his mind. "Very well, sir. Though I feel compelled to point out-"
"Three," Tony began his countdown, repulsors already humming to life. "Two. One."
The workshop erupted in blue-white light as Tony rocketed forward. He shot through the garage exit like a silver bullet, every system responding perfectly to his slightest movement. The cool night air rushed over his armor as he climbed higher, executing a tight spiral that would have been impossible in any conventional aircraft.
"Handles like a dream!" he whooped, the pure joy of flight washing away months of tension and trauma. This wasn't the desperate escape of the Mark I or the calculated tests of the components - this was freedom in its purest form.
Banking past the Santa Monica Pier, he caught sight of the Ferris wheel's lights reflecting off his armor. His HUD tagged two kids in one of the cars, their ice cream forgotten as they stared at the impossible sight streaking past them. Tony couldn't help showing off a bit, executing a perfect loop that sent their dropped ice cream spinning in his wake.
The city spread out below him like a circuit board made of light, and Tony felt that familiar urge to push further, higher, faster. "Hey JARVIS, what's the SR-71's record?"
"The altitude record for fixed wing flight is 85,000 feet, sir." JARVIS managed to make the number sound like a gentle warning. "Though I feel compelled to point out that the Mark II hasn't been tested for-"
"Records are made to be broken, J." Tony oriented himself straight up, pushing the thrusters to maximum. "Let's see what this baby can really do."
The suit rocketed skyward, city lights falling away beneath him as the air grew thinner. This was different from his earlier test flights - this was pure ambition, pushing both himself and his creation to their absolute limits. His HUD displayed rapidly climbing altitude numbers while environmental warnings began to flash in his peripheral vision.
"Sir," JARVIS's voice carried genuine concern now, "there's a potentially fatal buildup of ice occurring on the exterior of the suit."
Tony watched frost patterns start to form across his view screen. "A little ice never hurt anybody. How high are we?"
"Passing 60,000 feet and still climbing. Sir, the ice accumulation is approaching critical levels. The suit wasn't designed for these conditions-"
"Keep going!" Tony urged, both to JARVIS and himself. Each foot of altitude felt like a personal victory, a middle finger to everyone who'd ever tried to contain him - arms dealers, terrorists, even his own board of directors. "Come on, push it!"
The suit groaned around him as ice continued to build. Warning indicators screamed across his display, but Tony kept pushing higher. He was so close - just a few thousand more feet and he'd break the record. Just a little further...
Then everything went dark.
The HUD flickered and died as power failed across all systems. Tony's triumphant grin vanished as he felt the suit begin to tumble. "We're iced up, JARVIS!" Only silence answered him. "Deploy flaps! JARVIS?"
Reality hit him with the same brutal force as the increasing gravity - he'd lost all power. No JARVIS, no thrusters, no control surfaces. Just a very expensive, very heavy metal coffin in freefall.
"Not how I planned to go out," he muttered through gritted teeth as the earth rushed up to meet him. The suit spun wildly, giving him alternating views of stars and city lights that made his stomach lurch. He had seconds, maybe less, to solve this or end up as a very expensive crater.
Think. Think. The ice - had to break the ice. His hand found the manual release for his leg flaps, twisting it desperately. "Come on, break damn you!"
The flaps deployed with a crack of shattering ice, stabilizing his fall enough to get belly-down. Wind howled through gaps in his armor as the ground grew terrifyingly close. Just when he'd started calculating the odds of surviving a water landing, the HUD flickered back to life.
"JARVIS!" Tony had never been so happy to see scrolling data in his life.
"Online, sir. Deploying emergency power."
The thrusters roared back to life mere feet from the ground. Tony pulled up hard, nearly clipping a car as he shot skyward again. His heart thundered in his chest, adrenaline making everything razor-sharp. He'd done it - pushed to the edge of space and lived to tell about it.
"Maybe," he admitted as he turned back toward home, "we should work on some cold-weather upgrades."
"A prudent suggestion, sir," JARVIS replied dryly. "Though perhaps we could test them at a lower altitude next time?"
Tony chuckled as his house came into view. "Where's the fun in that? Kill power."
The suit's systems shut down instantly - exactly as ordered but perhaps not exactly as intended. Tony had just enough time to think 'poor choice of words' before gravity reasserted its dominance.
The roof of his mansion proved about as sturdy as tissue paper. He crashed through it, then through his prized grand piano on the floor below (and he was definitely blaming Pepper for insisting he needed one), before finally coming to rest on top of his vintage Cobra in the garage.
Car alarms wailed in protest of their owner's graceless return. Tony lay there, staring up at the new skylight he'd just installed, and couldn't help laughing. Sure, he'd destroyed a few million dollars worth of property, but he'd flown. Actually flown, not just controlled falling like the test flights.
A familiar whirring sound made him turn his head just in time to see DUM-E approaching with determined purpose, fire extinguisher raised.
"Don't you dare-" was all Tony managed before being thoroughly doused in foam. He let his head fall back against the crushed roof of his car, still grinning despite everything.
"Note to self," he muttered as foam dripped from his armor, "add 'landing protocols' to the upgrade list. Right after 'ice protection' and 'better dialogue choices than kill power.'"
Hours later, Tony sat at his workbench pressing an ice pack to the impressive collection of bruises he'd acquired during his impromptu home renovation. Every muscle protested the day's adventures, but he couldn't stop smiling. He'd flown - really flown, not just the controlled hops of testing. The Mark II had worked, mostly. The crash landing was just... an unexpected design opportunity.
He reached for his coffee, the motion making his shoulders remind him exactly how many times he'd tumbled through his own house. His eyes fell on the brown paper package Pepper had left earlier, sitting innocently among the scattered tools and holographic displays. The simple note on top read "From Pepper" in her precise handwriting.
Curious despite his exhaustion, Tony set down his ice pack and began unwrapping the package. Inside was a glass display case, elegantly simple in design. But it was what the case contained that made his breath catch - his first arc reactor, the one he'd built in that cave, mounted on a small stand. The one he'd told Pepper to destroy.
She hadn't destroyed it. She'd turned it into... this.
Metal text encircled the reactor's base, catching the workshop's lights: "PROOF THAT TONY STARK HAS A HEART"
Tony tipped the case back slightly, a slow smile spreading across his face. Trust Pepper to take something he'd seen as trash - as a reminder of his lowest point - and transform it into something meaningful. She'd always seen more in him than he saw in himself.
His eyes drifted to the screens still displaying data from his flight test, now alongside footage from the confrontation in Metropolis. Superman and Metallo's battle played on a loop, their movements analyzed and broken down by JARVIS's combat algorithms. Two beings with godlike power, throwing each other through buildings while the world watched.
"JARVIS, overlay the structural analysis from the Mark II test flight with Metallo's cybernetic readings." Tony set the display case carefully beside his original design sketches. "Focus on power distribution and thermal management."
"Analyzing, sir. Though I feel compelled to point out that comparing your suit to beings of their capability level might be considered... ambitious."
"That's because you lack vision, J." Tony enlarged the holographic display, manipulating data streams with practiced ease. "Look at Metallo's joint servos - the way they compensate for Superman's strength. We could adapt that for the Mark II's stability control."
He pulled up another screen showing the kryptonite core's energy signature. "And this radiation pattern... it's not just affecting Superman. It's enhancing Metallo's systems, pushing them beyond what should be possible with current technology."
"The mineral's properties are unlike anything in our database," JARVIS noted. "Though the cellular degradation in Sergeant Corbin's remaining organic tissue is concerning."
"Yeah, they didn't think that part through." Tony's expression darkened as he studied Metallo's increasingly erratic behavior patterns. "They're so focused on matching Superman's power that they don't care what it's doing to the man inside the machine."
He glanced at the arc reactor display case again, remembering how it had felt in that cave - being unmade and remade, but on his own terms. Not this perversion of science and desperation that LuthorCorp had created.
"Run another simulation of the high-altitude test," he ordered, returning to his screens. "This time factor in what we've learned from their fight. If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right. No shortcuts, no unstable power sources that destroy the user. Just pure engineering and..." he smiled at Pepper's gift, "...a little heart."
As data scrolled across his screens, Tony's mind was already racing ahead to improvements for the Mark III. He'd show the world there was another way - that humanity could reach for the stars without sacrificing its soul in the process. And maybe, just maybe, he'd help save a good soldier from the monster they'd turned him into.
But first, he really needed more ice for his head. And probably someone to fix that hole in his roof.
—
The cave's darkness pressed close, broken only by scattered work lights that cast harsh shadows across scattered pieces of metal. Two men worked with barely contained frustration, trying to reassemble what remained of Stark's escape vehicle. Their hands moved with the careful reverence of archeologists piecing together a precious artifact, though their rough handling betrayed their lack of true understanding.
Raza watched them from the shadows, cigar smoke curling around him like a serpent. His burned face had healed enough to stop requiring bandages, though the scars would never fade. In his right hand, he gripped something that pulsed with sickly green light - a fragment of the mineral they'd used to power Stark's initial escape. The stone's glow seemed to intensify when he squeezed it, as if responding to his barely contained rage.
His eyes moved from the stone to the crushed helmet his men were examining. The connection was there, written in scorch marks and twisted metal - how the mineral's strange radiation had enhanced Stark's crude power source, giving him the strength to escape. The same radiation that now flowed through his own veins, the fragment's power seeping into him with every passing moment.
"Sir," one of his men called out hesitantly, "we've found something in the power coupling. Some kind of modification to the mineral housing..."
Raza's grip tightened on the green stone, its glow casting his scarred features in an alien light. Stark hadn't just escaped - he'd unlocked secrets that could reshape the world. And now those secrets were being reproduced in labs across the globe, powering things like Luthor's metal soldier.
The helmet's empty eyes stared back at him, as if mocking his failure to contain what he'd helped create.