"You killed him!"
Tony Stark's voice shook with anger. His heart was pounding, his breathing sharp and harsh inside the helmet. Over the past weeks, he had been acting as Iron Man, trying to protect people, trying to repay the debt he owed to the world. He had saved lives that, once upon a time, he would not have cared about at all.
But now, right in front of him, this creature had taken a life without hesitation.
"You killed him in front of me!" Tony shouted.
Bant stared back at him through the dark mask, his voice cold and steady.
"And why shouldn't I?"
Tony froze for a moment.
"Do you think he was some kind of innocent man?" Bant's tone dipped into a bitter, quiet laugh.
Dennis Carradine's name was already in the police archives. The charges were not speculation. Robbery. Assault. Theft. The number of times he had been arrested was only a fraction of the crimes he had committed. His hands were far from clean, dirtied by gang fights and street violence.
But even if Dennis had been a saint, Bant would not have hesitated.
Family meant everything to him.
He knew Uncle Ben and Aunt May would never approve of this. They believed in forgiveness, in compassion, in patience. But Bant had already seen the price of mercy when given to the wrong person. He knew what would happen if Dennis walked away. He knew the pain and grief that would follow.
If protecting his family meant blood on his hands, then so be it.
"And what about you, Tony Stark?" Bant asked quietly.
Tony's anger dimmed slightly, replaced by confusion.
"What?"
"Do you think your hands are any cleaner than mine?"
Tony straightened, jaw tight.
"I have never killed anyone like this. The ones I fight are armed militants and criminals."
"You know that is not what I meant," Bant said. "Stark Industries did not grow by building toys."
Tony fell silent.
He knew the weight of that truth far too well.
He had shut down the weapons division. He was working to clean up what his company had done.
But past mistakes did not simply vanish.
He had never intended for his weapons to fall into the wrong hands, but negligence was not innocence. Profit had once mattered more than accountability, and he had looked away.
He regretted it deeply. That regret had shaped him into Iron Man.
But regret did not erase consequences.
Bant continued, calmer than before.
"You are trying to be better. I know that. But that does not mean the world will forgive you. And it does not mean I will stop doing what I must to protect the people I care about."
Tony swallowed, anger returning not from righteousness, but from something far more uncomfortable: recognition.
He had been seen. Completely.
But no matter how much of himself he recognized in Bant, Tony could not let this stand.
"I am telling you one last time," Tony said, raising his arm. "Hands up. Surrender."
Bant raised his hand. But instead of surrendering, he pointed at Tony.
"Three minutes to beat you."
The moment the words left his mouth, Bant moved.
His figure vanished in a blur. Before Tony had even fully processed the movement, a powerful kick slammed into his chest, right over the arc reactor. The force rippled through the armor. Bant twisted midair, his tail whipping across Tony's helmet with the speed of a snapping cable.
The impact launched Tony through the factory wall. Debris rained down as he crashed outside, skidding through concrete and steel.
JARVIS spoke immediately.
"Mild concussion detected."
Tony ignored him and rocketed back into the air.
"You asked for it!"
His thrusters flared and a repulsor blast shot forward.
But Bant had already moved.
"You are too slow, Tony," Bant's voice echoed, sharp and precise.
"Congratulations, sir," JARVIS added helpfully. "Someone has finally said it."
Tony gritted his teeth.
Chapter 7: Hope You Have Time to Replace That Heart of Steel
"Not a word, JARVIS," Tony snapped. "I have never been told I am fast, but I am definitely not slow."
Bant stood poised, muscles coiled like a predator waiting for the moment to strike again. Tony could barely track his movement. It was not just Bant's speed that made him formidable. It was the seamless relationship between his movement and reaction. He adjusted in real time with no hesitation and no mental delay.
"Estimated ground speed is approximately three hundred miles per hour," JARVIS calculated. "Reaction processing exceeds normal human neural capacity."
Tony already knew the implication.
His suit could move fast. But Tony's mind could not.
A machine is only as fast as its pilot.
Even with JARVIS enhancing his targeting, reaction and recovery between actions still required time. Bant did not need time. Bant moved like instinct and motion were the same thing.
"Round two, Tony Stark," Bant said.
He leaned forward, one foot sliding back like a sprinter waiting for the gun to fire.
His mask sealed shut.
Tony pretended to relax, as if unaffected, though his sensors were fully engaged and targeting systems synced. Shoulder launchers and elbow-mounted micro thrusters clicked into place.
"You said three minutes. Two minutes and fifteen seconds left."
He did not finish the sentence.
Because Bant struck.
Tony felt the hit before he even saw Bant move. His entire torso rang like a gong struck by a hammer. His breath locked, and the world spun. He had expected his armor to track Bant. But even JARVIS could not adjust that fast. The cameras caught only scattered motion trails.
"Mark III integrity at twelve percent," JARVIS reported.
Bant did not let go. He clamped both hands onto Tony's helmet and launched forward, dragging him through the side of a nearby building. Concrete shattered. Sparks burst from metal. Paint scraped from the armor, leaving raw steel exposed.
"Suit integrity now at twenty-six percent."
Tony swallowed down bile, though it was too late. The inside of his helmet was now a disaster.
"I am adding a waste disposal compartment in the next suit," Tony muttered.
He redirected his thrusters unevenly, cutting left-side propulsion and firing the right. Bant's hold faltered and he tumbled forward, momentum carrying him into a rough tumbling roll that tore trenches into the ground.
Bant pushed himself up slowly, exhaling sharply. His whole body felt jarred, but his bones held, his muscles adapting to the impact.
"This species must have evolved to survive falls like meteor strikes," he muttered. "If our kind did not regenerate fast, we would snap ourselves apart within a week."
Tony steadied himself in the air, gaze locked on Bant.
"One minute and nine seconds left," Tony called. "Not enough time to run back to your hideout, lizard boy."
Bant laughed once.
"One minute is enough."
His voice dropped.
"But I do not plan to run."
He sprinted forward again, faster than before. Tony realized where Bant's target was and panic shot through him.
The arc reactor.
"Bant, wait!"
There was no waiting.
Bant struck like lightning.
His claw slid into the casing of Tony's arc reactor, metal shrieking under the force.
The impact rang out like a bell struck at the center of Tony Stark's heart.