MARVEL TRIPLE-ACTION #59
by Troy Wheatley

starring IRON MAN, THOR and CAPTAIN AMERICA

Like so many men before him, he confronts his own mortality, and denies it.

He confronted it a generation ago, deep in a Vietnamese jungle, with the event that changed his life forever. A random slab of shrapnel cast into his chest was the signal. Fate had landed upon him, set to turn all his conceptions into dust.

But he would not yield, not while there was still so much he had the power to change. Together with Yinsen, his fellow prisoner of war, he took up nature’s challenge, and fashioned a new body, a suit of armour, to save his failing heart. Technology can be seen as man’s endless journey towards overtaking his own mortality.

He has confronted it all his life. Great men do not huddle themselves away, in fear of the thunder. They press and probe, in order to discover the origin of its power. They build machines and towers that carry them upwards, over the birds, and above the clouds. They prepare for each moment as if it will stretch forever, having faced the revelation it will not.

They are human, and they are heroes.

So many men, some brave, some cowardly, have tried to deny their frail flesh by standing behind a guise of steel. But only he, Anthony Stark, is the one, true Iron Man!

Witness now his flesh made weak...

Tony Stark woke up to find himself lying bare-chested on a strange blue satin bed. The light shone brightly in his eyes. Even though he was somewhat dazed and confused, he knew instantly that something was wrong.

‘My armour?’

A thin, white hand stroked the top of his forehead. ‘It’s alright. Rest now. You need your strength.’

Tony picked himself up and spun around. Before him were three women, each clothed in purple, silk robes, and each with a golden headdress perched atop their long, raven-coloured hair (their hair, so straight and uniform, had to be wigs). The one who had touched his forehead spoke again.

‘You are safe here.’ she said.

‘No...,’ He shook his head. ‘This is not my world.’

He stood up. There was a chest of drawers to the south of the room, and a large wardrobe, hewn from chestnut, to the east. Several chairs were stationed at odd points of the room, but apart from that, nothing. Judging by the soft, cool colours and the distinct lack of weaponry, he had been brought into the ladies’ quarters.

‘Where-? Where’s my armour?’

Tony quickly marched towards the wardrobe. It was a few moments before the women realised where he was going- too late. Heedless of the gentle tugs on his shoulders, he threw open the doors.

"Please, sir," said the two who had not yet spoken, "please come away from there."

He flicked through the silk robes, searching vainly in the dark corners for the golden glint of his armoured shell.

"It’s not in here, it seems- Wha?! English?"

The first woman’s noble voice pressed against his ear. "Come, please settle down. You are far from home but you are safe." She began to clothe him in one of the larger robes. "Your questions will be answered."

Closing the wardrobe doors, Tony turned around to find the small door which presumably would lead him out of the room. As quickly as before, he marched towards it.

"We are here to help you," she said, "Because we want you to help us."

"My armour?" His focus remained ahead of him as he opened the door.

Then he stopped. What he saw on the other side brought him back to his senses, and caused him to wait until the tall, lithe woman had furnished him with an explanation.

"We are the Denri. You are in the Grand Auditorium. We have brought you here in the hope that you will find in here and us your kindred."

He stood upon the top of a set of circular steps, which widened out as they descended towards the middle of the hall. There was another set of steps leading out from the wall directly opposite, but they were both dwarfed by a large red platform with curved corners which stood to the left, and upon which there was placed several chairs, the biggest being a golden throne covered in red silk. Men and women, some dressed in fine robes, others dressed in the attire of various types of technicians, were bustling all over the marble floors. The largest group was gathered around the huge waterwheel which towered over the centre of the hall, discussing animatedly the wheel’s motion, and scribbling down notes on their clipboards. However, as several managed to catch their first glimpse of Tony, the atmosphere became gradually quieter and the bustling began to stop.

The woman continued to speak, "For we believe that you are similar to us, that you too are one of the grand architects of human endeavour. We have built many machines that enable us to thrive upon this hostile terrain. We still push towards bringing all our inspirations into actuality."

He turned, his expression tense. "And who are you?"

"She is Princess Dalphi, administrator and head engineer." proclaimed an elderly man, dressed in wide, black robes, who had emerged from the platform’s apex. "I am Chief Aamal, leader of this enterprise. You wish to find your armour?"

Everybody in the hall, including Princess Dalphi and her two companions, bowed down on to their right knee. Only Tony and the Chief remained erect.

"I am Anthony Stark, and that is correct, sir." he replied. "Not only is that armour my protection, but if it is directed into inappropriate hands it could be dangerous."

The Chief nodded. "Understandable. Do not fear, we shall return it to you as you left it." He gestured with his mechanical staff towards a nearby opening. A small robot, consisting of a strong, circular base and eight miniature legs, came crawling out, and it carried upon it a case formed from a clear, solid polymer. Inside the case, carefully separated into its components, that is, the chestplate, the boots and gloves, and the helmet, was the iron armour.

Tony removed the armour from the case, and began to refit it to his body. The people in the hall had risen again now, and were examining his armour with visible interest. Once he had finally settled the helmet in place, he ordered the in-built computers to run through a quick systems check. Right repulsor damaged. Reflectors seventy percent operational. The armour must have taken a battering when he... did what?

He removed his helmet and watched the robot retreat back to where it had entered. "Clever little piece of gadgetry that." he commented.

Chief Aamal sighed. ‘Alas, there are not many of its kind left.’

‘Wha-?’ Tony asked, but the grey-haired man continued, "Do you recall how you arrived here?"

"Y-yes. Yes, I think I do." Tony replied, "I was on Earth, in Avengers Mansion."

The memory reached him of his sitting at the switchboard, pouring over streams of codes, the thunder god and the soldier at his side. "We’d all been flat out as of late, and there was this pile of files that had been neglected, a bunch of upgrades which needed to be programmed into our systems to keep us in line with SHIELD and the Vault. Thor and Captain America offered to help me out, and we’d been there several hours, making steady progress. Daily grind stuff really, but we hadn’t met up for a while, and the Vision was out at lunch."

"Anyway, that’s when there was this flash of light, and this seven-foot man with tufted hair and battle-armour appeared in the centre." He pictured the tall man, one hand raised sharply above them. "We were ready, but he claimed he meant us no harm."

("Halt, stranger!" Thor bellowed, "We are the Avengers, and we dost not taketh intruders lightly!"

"Stay you hand, thunder god." was the reply. "My name is Kyngon, and my intrusion is not one of malevolent intent.")

Tony continued, "His words and tone made us pause for an instant, and that’s really all the time a teleporter needs. Next thing we knew, the air around his fingers began to shimmer wildly, and we felt that familiar pulling sensation of having one’s molecules elongated all along the time-space barrier. That’s the last I remember, until Princess Dalphi woke me."

Chief Aamal had descended the platform, and now stood next to Tony. "Indeed, that would appear to account for how we found you in our region. Mark my words, your arrival is so fortuitous as to be the work of fate, if we believed in such a thing." He brushed past and said to Tony in a low voice, "Come with me."

The Chief walked over to an elevator blended into the wall, Tony following in his stride. "What we have presented to you so far is merely the surface, the sheen, but the true interest lies in investigating the immense framework that supports it, wouldn’t you agree? ... Denible?"

They entered the elevator, joined by another man also in black robes, but narrower than those of Aamal’s, and like Tony, brandishing a dark goatee. "Anthony Stark, I’d like to introduce you to Denible, my general manager. He’ll be providing you with a brief."

The two men shook hands. "Pleased to meet you, sir." said Denible.

"Thank you. Likewise." Tony replied.

A red light flashed. "Ah, here we are." said the Chief.

They stepped out on to a large rectangular balcony from which they were able to oversee the whole region, and glimpses of what lay beyond. The land was mostly barren, and receded to form a mountain range, but it was what stood closest to them which Aamal had meant to show him. The townhouses were arranged in the shape of a pentagon, and in the centre was a brown-blue lake, perhaps the only freshwater for miles. Outside the town were many factories and plants, the whirr and gust of machinery audible even from this height.

"Do you hear it?" asked the Chief. "It’s the firm sound of iron upon iron, steel upon steel. The sound of a burgeoning infrastructure, spreading, changing, building itself up into an entity which can protect and nurture the precious bloodlines that are themselves evolving within its field. What we are glimpsing at here is the core power of the universe, and what a wonderful thing it is to strive to master it."

"If there’s one lesson I’ve learnt, it’s that there are many different powers." Tony replied. "I’d settle for being able to master my own."

The Chief leant on the rail, his robes swirling about him. "Too true." he said, "Still one must admit that there is a special value in possessing the ability to shift the boundaries of human potential. And imagine if all those possibilities were to lie in ghostly, half-consummated pieces, if all the extraordinary progress that had been made to date was suddenly destroyed."

His expression turned grim as he pronounced, "We are at war, Tony. Denible, if you would?"

The Chief and Tony turned to face Denible standing on the right side of the balcony, partly covered by the shadow of the wall. After straightening himself up, Denible proceeded with his recount of what had occurred.

"Immediately prior to the last full moon, a group of young female Denri were undertaking a field trip in Burward Forest, located upon the edges of the settlement. It is one of the few green areas in our region and is therefore quite a popular meeting-place amongst our younger folk. That is, it was until this horrible incident of which I will now speak of came to pass.

From what we can surmise, the group were engaged upon a leisurely walk through the deeper, more stimulating parts of the forest when they were suddenly beset upon and kidnapped. Only one of the group escaped capture, the young male professor, who was found lying upon the ground, unconscious, with bruises scattered around his head and body. Through him we discovered that the assailants were indeed the people we feared, the base and fearsome warrior-race known as the Kundorrs."

"Barbarians?" Tony asked.

"Yes, they live not far from the Burward forest, and some have been known to attack and rob whole parties of travellers that venture out upon the roads linking our two regions. Led by a large warrior named Grule, this pack of Kundorrs spirited our women away into the confines of their huge fortress, where they have ever since remained. We fear... well, you can imagine we fear the worst.

But then a few days ago, a note arrived from the leader of the Kundorrs issuing to us a challenge. It said that we if do not comply with their demands, they will launch a full-force attack on our region, and they expect that, when the time comes, we will respond in kind. That time is now, and we fear that their strength in numbers will prove too much even for our advanced weapons. But you possess a weapon they have no match for, Anthony Stark. You alone are able to win the war. Will you help us?"

Chief Aamal and Denible watched as Tony rubbed his chin, anxious for his reply. Finally he said, "The war is your concern. But you can count on me to bring those women safely home."

Once the terms of the alliance had been agreed upon, Tony was led by the Chief down into the bunkers situated beneath the Auditorium. The weapon racks and the three-dimensional maps dispersed around them suggested to Tony that these bunkers formed a set of makeshift war rooms, although it was odd to observe the lack of advanced electronic radars and other tracking devices. They walked over to a group of Denri officers gathered about a scale model of what Tony supposed was the battlefield, a vast area of barren land, with the tiny Kundorr fortress standing resolute upon its edge.

Chief Aamal introduced Tony to each of the officers in turn, all of them dark-haired, clean-shaven men, all of them more or less in his age group, a couple slightly balding, and all of them greeting him with the utmost seriousness. Unlike most of the Denri he had seen upstairs, they did not wear robes. "This is Colonel Moxart," said the Chief, "and next to him is Colonel Gallan... Captain Selvin... and standing over there is Commander Rune."

"An honour to meet you all." said Tony.

Chief Aamal left, and Tony sat down in the unoccupied chair next to the Captain. Commander Rune continued with his address.

"Time was, we could rely on the superior skills of our swordsmen to form the main thrust of our assault." said the Commander, "Now with so many Kundorrs proficient in the use of blades, as well as spears and clubs, any attack from our swordsmen will be merely a front."

He pointed past the miniature soldiers to the weapons that stood behind them. "Our cannons and turret-launchers will ensure a strong defence. However, we must still force the Kundorr front-line on to the back foot so that they are unable to mount a sustained attack. This will be achieved by Captain Selvin’s squadron. Their gunfire should serve to scatter the Kundorr forces."

The Commander pointed to the centre of the model battlefield, and Tony’s eyes fell upon the row of machines in the area indicated, which each appeared to consist of a large walnut-shaped control booth, and eight thick mechanical legs sprouting out from the sides. They looked, of course, like giant spiders, except that they were all coated a brilliant, shiny red, and golden metal plates had been encrusted on to each booth.

"What are those metal insects called?" he asked.

"Octapods." replied Captain Selvin. "Carrier and navigational unit. Three assault cannons, top and sides. Also extra gunnery located at base"

Tony picked up one of the models, and flipped it over in order to examine its underside.

"Interesting." he said.

Captain Selvin continued, "The underlying rationale for the units’ design was to fulfil the required property of strength. If you wish, I can show you the blueprints that were used in the developmental process. That would also permit us the opportunity to hear your comments regarding the units’ design."

Tony smiled and began to pull at the model’s legs, as if to test their strength for himself "Yes, I can’t say I’ve seen anything quite like it on my world."

Colonel Moxart eyed Tony superciliously "Commander, I think now would be a good time to inform our visitor of his own part within this strategy."

The Commander leaned forward upon the table. "Mr. Stark, we want you to lead the squadron into battle." he said gravely. "With your manoeuvrability and array of weapons, you alone possess the power necessary to decimate the Kundorr front-line. The result is a clear path that will allow our forces to take the fortress."

Tony held up a hand, signalling his decline. "Thanks, but no thanks, Commander. For one thing, during my journey here, my armour was severely damaged. But apart from that, I want no part in any bloodshed, and I urge you all not to kill unless absolutely necessary. Considering we are supposedly facing a primitive battalion, our weapons seem to me far too powerful to be used indiscriminately."

He turned towards Captain Selvin, as he continued to address the Commander. "I think instead I will accompany the Captain in one of the, uh... octapods. Then, when the squadron has cleared a path, I will approach the fortress unopposed, and work my way in from there."

The Captain appeared well-pleased with this plan, but the Commander wore an expression of concern. "Your armour is damaged. Are you sure you can make it to the fortress on your own?"

"Don’t worry," said Tony, "I might not be able to take on the whole Kundorr army, but there’s no way known they can stop me. Not unless they can fly."

A few hours later, as Tony and Captain Selvin sat in one of the bunkers with several other officers, waiting for the call to arms, Tony spotted a familiar figure sitting alone against the opposite wall. He patted the Captain on the shoulder, and told him "I’ll be back."

It was Princess Dalphi, but she had changed her purple robes for the faded grey armour of a Denri soldier, and her wig had made way for her natural strands of dark, wavy hair. Her expression was predominantly one of resolution and courage, although her eyes betrayed a hint of solemnity.

"Hello, your Highness." said Tony, "May I inquire what your position will be within the upcoming battle?"

She looked up at him and her face brightened considerably. "There’s no need to call me that," she said cheerfully, "our titles no longer carry any distinction of royalty. Anyway, I’m not actually taking any part in the battle as such. I’ll be seated with you in Captain Selvin’s pod, monitoring our unit’s status, undertaking internal repairs..."

As Tony witnessed her expression brighten, a pleasant change crept over him, as he came to realise that even here amongst the dirt and grime of a military bunker, just how elegant she was.

"Look, " he said. "I’m sorry we started off on the wrong foot. I know you were only trying to help me, it’s just... well, I didn’t know where I was."

"It’s quite alright," she replied, "I was only too happy to help you become re-orientated."

There was a pause while the Princess readjusted the toolkit at the front of her belt. Then Tony said, "You know, Dalphi, I like this casual manner of yours. It’s much more becoming of you than when you were reciting chapter and verse from ‘The Many Quotations of Chief Aamal’."

"Well, we did want to make a good impression. I... we really did want you to help us."

"Speaking of which- the battle, I mean," Tony sat down in the space next to her and began to talk softly in her ear, "well, it all seems a bit... ruthless to me. I understand that you are all concerned about your missing kindred, but I hardly see the need to fight a war over it."

When she looked back up at him, the hint of solemnity had returned. "Of course. Being an outsider, you don’t understand what our lives have been like. If you did, you’d see it as the only possible response for us."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. You have a good heart, Tony Stark. Let’s leave it at that."

(The battle. Iron Man seated in the octapod, Captain Selvin to his left, Princess Daplhi to his right. Other officers seated at various control panels)

(A cloud of sand directly before them on the battlefield, partly covering a row of large figures, each of them helmeted, bare-chested, armed with sword and shield, charging at full pelt towards them.)

(Both left and right cannons firing, the ground hidden by the impact of the explosion.)

(Kundorr warriors dispersed about the point of impact, some propped upon their elbows, others rising.)

Iron Man: "—they’re still standing!"

Princess Dalphi: "What did you expect? It takes more than one round of gunfire to break through a Kundorr’s hide."

Captain Selvin: "Alright, let’s move closer. Try to box them in, then we’ll deliver another round."

(Octapod shaking uncontrollably as it approaches the Kundorr warriors below.)

Iron Man: "Time for me to leave, I think. I’m off to the fortress."

Princess Dalphi: "Good luck, then, but watch out. It will be guarded."

(Iron Man flying up and to the right, out the top of the octapod.)

(Iron Man soaring above the combatants, the gunfire exploding madly all over the battlefield, the Denri and Kundorr swordsmen locking blades.)

(He circles down just above the battle, in order to follow a more direct path to the fortress.)

(An axe crashes against Iron Man’s chestplate, the impact sending him hurtling to the ground.)

(Several Kundorr warriors gathered around the fallen hero, their large bodies ready to strike.)

(Iron Man uses his repulsor ray to blast the warriors away from him.)

(Iron Man rises up into the air again, the Kundorr warriors pick themselves up, rub their eyelids, try vainly to grab a hold of him)

(Iron Man, a red and gold spot in the sky, buzzes towards the grey fortress. Its two main turrets reach high up over the large fir trees which surround it, and chunks of debris and rubble lie here and there around its base.)

(He flies, arms outstretched, bracing for impact)

Suddenly, a strange missile came racing towards him, and knocked his armour clean out of the sky. Before he had fully realised what had happened, the golden Avenger landed on the ground with a crash, sending up a flurry of leaves and dust.

As Iron Man began to pick himself up again, he saw the object that had hit him move quickly past and rise up into the air along a curved path, higher and higher. That was when he knew.

There, hovering above him, was the massive form of the thunder god, his strong fists firmly clenched, the metal of his hammer shining under the glaring sun.

"Thor!"

Meanwhile, the third Avenger, Captain America, stood alone on a bed of rocks deep in the valley. He was surrounded at all points by huge cliffs, the dusty boulders protruding from their faces.

"A peculiar region, this is," he thought, "but in all likelihood, it is as breathtaking to its inhabitants in its severeness as the Sierra Nevada or the Grand Canyon. Presuming there are any inhabitants to speak of."

He knelt down, placing his arms upon the rim of his shield. "I’ve walked miles since I’ve landed, and still no signs of any villages or towns yet, nor of the other Avengers." He was exhausted. "Was I transported to a lifeless planet? Is this an imprisonment, or is- hmm?" The rumble of what seemed like footsteps emanated from behind a group of enormous rocks, roughly thirty feet away.

Holding his shield before him, Captain America turned in the direction of the sound. "Yes, footsteps." he thought, "Either one very large being, or several beings, or both. I hear heavy breathing, they’re ready to attack...,"

"GRRRAARRRRR!!!!" Leaping out from the rocks, three hefty men, dressed in yak-hair boots and loincloths charged straight towards him. Captain America brought his shield in close to his body, ready to strike.

The front one bolted forwards, aiming to grab him about the waist. "They appear to be the bruiser-type," he said to himself, "probably used to getting their own way. If I can stun two at once," he simultaneously leaped out of the path of the front attacker and hurled his shield to hit the one to his right, knocking him to the ground, "it should make them re-assess things, make them a little hesitant. Unless they’re too stupid to realise."

The one who had not yet attacked spoke to him in a heavy voice, "What Naan is this who enters the valley of the Molgs?"

Left arm raised, the Molg was ready to spill blood. "Molgs, eh?" Cap shouted back, "I’m pleased you introduced yourselves, though I’d be more appreciative if you could inform me about my missing friends." The Molg who had first attacked lifted himself up while issuing a fierce growl.

Captain America sidestepped the incoming Molg and finished him off with a strong backhanded blow from his shield. Then, after a split-second pause, he flipped over so that his legs met the last Molg square in the chest.

"I didn’t come here to fight," he said, holding the Molg up by the throat, "You’re the first sign of life I’ve encountered here and I -,"

But the soldier did not get to finish his sentence, as a giant fist swept him off his legs, and hard on to the valley’s floor. The huge Molg’s arm swooped upon the unconscious hero, and held him suspended, waiting.

"My, an excellent fighter, this one," came another voice, lighter than the rest, "I feel as if I could study his defences all day. Take him to the pit," The Molg obliged, dragging the limp figure of Captain America across the sand, "We’ll deal with him there."

Thor stared down at the fallen Avenger in disbelief. "Iron Man? Why hath thou allied thyself with these curs?"

"I could ask you pretty much the same thing," Iron Man replied, "Do you know what these barbarians you’re protecting have done?"

"Nay, not barbarians," said Thor, looking out towards the battlefield, "but brave men and women, who are faced with the challenge of a changing world. A challenge due greatly in part to those who value rules and statutes over the time-honoured virtues of strength and valour."

"You mean the Denri, right?"

"Aye."

"Seems you’ve been spun a different tale to me," said Iron Man, "so let me hear it and we’ll see whether we can straighten this mess out."

"My journey ended, or began, you may say, when I landed upon the roof of this very fortress thou seest before you, and didst not halt until I hath reached its lowermost floor." Thor said. "I was immediately encircled by a number of mighty swordsmen, hands upon their hilts. But upon inspection of my garb, they werest convinced I was friend, not foe, and led me away towards their imperial chamber.

I was met there by the leader of these people, who calleth himself Yargilson. He doth be a young king, but I found him in many ways to be as noble and wise a monarch as the All-Father himself. I explained who I was and from where I didst hail, after which Lord Yargilson proclaimed that they hath been foretold of my coming, and werest in urgent need of my aid.

‘Twas a miserable tale he related to me. Several moons ago, a band of Kundorr rogues escaped confinement and plundered the wares of a party of travellers, leaving several of their number brutally scarred. Amongst those inflicted was the noble Princess Kwajin."

"You mean Princess Dalphi’s sister?"

"Aye. I believe that to be so. Lord Yargilson offered to make full restitution to the Denri, and a deal was struck. But the Kundorrs were horribly swindled by the aristocrats’ deftness with regulations, and were subsequently confined to an area encircling this fortress of no greater than five miles. To be fair, Lord Yargilson said, the Denri are vexed about the rumoured rebel uprisings, and wished to have no more agents roaming adrift whom they couldst not control. Yet the deal was unacceptable, and has thus led to the state of affairs which thou hath just witnessed."

"What about the women who were kidnapped, then?"

"Ah... I also found this to be a matter of great concern, and ‘twas not long before I gave voice to my distress. That was when the warrior named Grule informed the Son of Odin that a band of rebel Molgs had been lurking in the forest that very morn, and it was they who attempted to kidnap the maidens. ‘Twas fortunate that Grule and his band happened by, although less fortunate was the young professor, who was felled by a stray rock thrown by one of the Kundorr rescuers. Even now, the rebels are gathered in these forests, preparing to launch an attack upon Denri and Kundorr alike. Shalt we not put an end to this needless battle?"

Iron Man nodded, "I think we can come to a suitable arrangement."

Said Iron Man to the Denri in Commander Rune’s octapod, tearing up a paper scroll, "...all your laws don’t make a spit of difference to those who pride themselves on... uh, strength and valour. Not unless you make it so. For your plans to have any power, you must first gain the power of trust!"

Said Thor to the Kundorrs, breaking an axe upon his knee, "...threats surround us that doth be too subtle, too sinister, to be bludgeoned by the blow of a mighty axe! There exists no shame in turning from one’s noble traditions to stand alongside those with powers that art new and strange... indeed, mayhaps it be the noblest act of all!"

Eventually, from opposite sides of the battlefield, the leaders of both the Denri and the Kundorrs silently approached each other. Their gait was proud and firm, until finally they stood there, face-to-face. Then all of them, on both sides, broke into smiles.

Iron and Thor shook hands. "We’ll fight together," said the golden Avenger, "or separate if need be."

"We shall never be beaten." said the thunder god. "For we are... the Avengers!"

That night, deep in the darkness of the Grand Auditorium’s basements, a faint clicking noise could be heard as a single cloaked figure typed out a coded message.

"Must tell Lunn that the Kundorrs and Denri have declared an end to their fighting," the typist thought to himself, "He may decide there’s still a chance that this could all work out for the best."

Just at that moment, he heard a crackling sound not far away from him. "Eh?" he thought, and turned towards the direction from where it had seemed to originate. He ceased his typing as the crackling sound came closer.

Finally, the cloaked man was both surprised and relieved when he saw that stepping through the shadows was the thin metal figure of Iron Man, his armour coloured grey by the darkness. "Ah... it’s you, sir! How good it is that you happened to drop by. As you can see, I was only-"

The man paused, sensing something was wrong, as slowly, the right glove of Iron Man began to rise and crackle with a powerful energy, ready to erupt.

"What?" the man squeaked.

Suddenly, the energy burst free, and vaporized the man where he stood, arms stretched out in a plea for mercy.

"Traitor!" shouted the armoured figure, "You will not ruin my plans for this world!"

The man could only scream.