In Marvel With Unique Skill Great Sage (MCU) [107]

Stark grumbled under his breath, looking slightly less angry but still annoyed. He grudgingly accepted the flimsy excuse. "Tch... Well... I guess that makes sense..."

Now it was Colonel Rhodey's turn to feel slighted. "Okay, so what about me then? Was I just the front-row audience for the show? Feels like I just watched a really intense movie I got excited, scared, panicked and then it turns out none of it really involved me!"

"Come on, come on, let's go upstairs and cut that cake," Lemu said, already turning to leave. "Oh, right, Tony, you should call Pepper and get her back here. It's your birthday, after all, we should have everyone together. Call Happy too."

Stark nodded, then asked Lemu, "What about your little girlfriend? Alice?"

Lemu shook his head. "Nah, let's skip that for tonight. It's your birthday, not mine."

The three of them powered down their suits, stepping out of the armor. Their voices faded as they headed upstairs.

...

Outside the Stark villa, the thirty-two now ownerless Hammer Drones silently formed up into neat rows. Under unseen control, they lifted off and flew smoothly towards the neighboring hill, heading for Lemu's villa.

The powerful downdraft from their flight blew across the scarred ground below, stirring the embers still glowing faintly in the deep, dark craters left behind by Vanko's earlier attacks and the subsequent explosions. Tiny sparks flickered up into the air on the wind before dying out, unseen and unnoticed by anyone.

Upstairs, in the spacious second-floor living room of Stark's villa:

Lemu, Stark, Rhodey, Natasha, and soon joined by Pepper and Happy who had rushed back, all gathered around. Laughter and cheerful chatter filled the room as they ate cake and talked.

Even Justin Hammer, now effectively their prisoner, was given a small slice of cake. He huddled miserably in a corner, his face etched with despair. He ate the cake slowly, carefully, licking the sweet cream frosting from his fingers as if it were his last meal on Earth. This might very well be the last piece of cake he'd eat in his life. He knew with chilling certainty that Hammer Industries was finished, and so was he…

….

The night grew late, deep, and quiet. The clock ticked past midnight, officially ending Tony Stark's birthday. Everyone ended up staying the night at Stark's sprawling villa.

Around 3:30 AM, during the darkest part of the night when most people sleep their deepest, a shadowy figure moved with practiced stealth. He slipped quietly out of his assigned guest room, making his way silently through the dark corridors.

He headed straight for Stark's underground workshop, finding the familiar Mark II armor parked where Rhodey had left it earlier. As Stark's best friend, Rhodey knew the security codes to the workshop, and crucially, Tony had given him specific authorization to pilot the Mark II earlier that day.

Rhodey moved with extreme caution, carefully stepping into the armor. He powered it up, keeping the system startup as quiet as possible. With a barely audible hum, the engines ignited, and Rhodey lifted off the ground, leaving a faint trail of fire behind him as he ascended silently into the black night sky.

Inside the helmet, a satisfied smile spread across Colonel Rhodey's face.

This Mark series technology... this was exactly what the military brass desperately wanted. And he'd gotten it, smooth as silk. Mission successful. He wouldn't have to resign now.

Sure, Lemu had mentioned maybe giving the military a version of the Mark II later, but why settle for a maybe, or a stripped-down version, when he could grab the fully functional, original article right now? Besides, Stark himself had been wishy-washy about actually handing it over. Sometimes, you just had to take matters into your own hands to get things done.

As he gained altitude, flying a little unsteadily at first, Rhodey cautiously scanned his surroundings. He made a wide turn, deliberately giving the adjacent hill Lemu’s hill a very wide berth.

The memory was still crystal clear in his mind: just a few hours ago, dozens of deadly, precise red laser beams had shot out from that very hilltop, effortlessly blasting every single incoming missile out of the sky. That image was burned into his brain.

He was absolutely convinced that if he flew anywhere near that villa, the next thing he knew, he'd be nothing more than a lonely, unexpected firework exploding high up in the dark sky.

Rhodey accessed the armor's navigation system and carefully inputted the coordinates for the nearest Air Force base. He leaned back slightly in the pilot seat, feeling a sense of accomplishment and relief. Okay, he thought, now I can probably catch a quick ten-minute nap while the suit flies itself there.

With the coordinates locked in, the Mark II's autopilot engaged. The suit banked smoothly, turning... and started flying directly towards the forbidden neighboring hill. Lemu’s hill.

?!?!? STOP! WHAT THE—?!

Panic surged through Rhodey. He frantically tried to switch the controls back to manual mode, jamming the interface buttons, but the armor didn't respond at all. It was completely locked up, acting as if the controls were dead.

Then, without warning, a thin, terrifyingly bright red laser beam suddenly flashed into existence right in front of him, streaking past his faceplate by mere inches.

"Fu*k!" Rhodey yelled involuntarily, his heart hammering against his ribs. That near-miss had almost scared him to death.

But before he could even catch his breath, dozens more red laser lines materialized all around him out of the darkness. They crisscrossed the air, forming a complex web, all clearly locking onto him as the target. Warning shots began firing, zipping past the armor on all sides.

In an instant, the Mark II armor, still unresponsive to his commands, found itself trapped, forced to weave and dodge frantically through the deadly lattice of red light, like a tiny dragonfly caught in a violent storm made of pure energy.

Rhodey felt death brush past him again and again as the razor-thin red beams sliced through the air all around him. It felt like in the very next second, the Mark II armor with him inside it would be instantly shredded into a million burning pieces.

"Oh God! AAAAAAHHH! Somebody save me! STARK!"

His absolutely terrified screams echoed piercingly through the pre-dawn sky.

This was way, way too intense! This kind of adrenaline-fueled terror was definitely not something the middle-aged colonel could handle!