Chapter 7: Hope You’ve Got Another Arc Reactor

“Shut up, JARVIS!”

“I’ve slept with hundreds of cover models, and not one of them said I was quick!”

Tony snapped irritably, his focus never wavering from Bren. This creature’s movements were clearly faster than the human eye could track. A single lapse in concentration could mean disaster.

“To be precise, its movement speed reaches 300 miles per hour,” JARVIS remarked, oblivious to Tony’s jab. The AI had already calculated Flashstar’s speed through precise measurements.

Three hundred miles per hour, roughly 400 kilometers.

While the Mark III armor’s maximum flight speed far outclassed that, there was a crucial issue: speed wasn’t just about movement, it was about reflexes.

Speedsters were only as effective as their reaction time. Without the ability to process and react, speed alone was a liability.

Take a crowded highway: even a car speeding at 125 mph would be manageable if the road were empty. But add obstacles, and even skilled drivers struggle.

The fact that Bren could move at such speeds within the confines of this factory, weaving through tight spaces, proved his reflexes were far beyond human capability.

To make matters worse, 300 mph seemed to be his casual cruising speed. At full throttle, he was practically invisible, even to advanced tracking systems like Tony’s.

“Where the hell did this monster come from?” Tony muttered under his breath.

Unfazed, Bren stretched, preparing to launch his next strike.

“Round two, Tony Stark,” he growled, his voice cold and mechanical behind the black mask that snapped shut over his face.

To him, a few minutes in this form was more than enough time to deal with Tony.

“Bring it on, Dino-Boy!”

Tony taunted, masking his unease with bravado. Even as he spoke, he had secretly handed over control of the armor to JARVIS, betting on the AI’s superior calculations to counter Bren’s speed.

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The Mark III’s weapon systems came alive, locking onto Bren as he crouched, ready to strike. Shoulder-mounted missiles and wrist-mounted repulsors snapped into position.

“You’ve got two minutes and fifteen seconds left—”

BAM!

Before Tony could finish his quip, his entire view was consumed by blackness.

The next thing he knew, it felt like a freight train had smashed into his chest.

Bren’s claws had driven into his chestplate, sending Tony flying backward with terrifying force.

Tony had anticipated Bren’s speed and prepared the suit’s sensors to track him. But even JARVIS couldn’t react quickly enough to the sheer speed of the attack.

“Mark III integrity down 12%,” JARVIS reported, his voice calm as ever.

Bren didn’t stop. His clawed hands gripped the Mark III’s helmet like a vice, using Tony’s suit as a battering ram as they crashed through the factory wall.

The sudden acceleration was overwhelming, and if not for the suit’s internal dampening systems, Tony would have blacked out on the spot.

Even so, his vision blurred, his stomach churned, and his mind felt like it had been scrambled.

“Mark III integrity down 26%,” JARVIS announced as Bren used Tony like a wrecking ball, smashing him against buildings along the way. Sparks flew as concrete shattered, the once-polished suit now scuffed and dented.

“Thanks, JARVIS. Why don’t you just push him off me?” Tony snapped, barely regaining his wits.

“For the next suit, I’m definitely adding a barf bag,” he groaned, bile dripping inside his helmet from earlier.

Desperately, Tony activated the right-side thrusters at full power while cutting the left ones. The sudden imbalance caused Bren to lose his footing, forcing him to release his grip.

The speedster tumbled uncontrollably, crashing into the ground in a series of violent rolls. He finally managed to regain control, standing battered but unbroken several kilometers away.

Meanwhile, Tony stabilized himself mid-air, hovering above the ground.

“One minute and nine seconds left. Doesn’t look like you’ll make it to the zoo, Dino-Boy!” Tony taunted, wiping at his helmet’s interior.

“Plenty of time,” Bren sneered, his voice laced with menace. “Though I wonder if you’ll make it back to Stark Tower to replace your Arc Reactor.”

The ominous words sent a chill down Tony’s spine.

“What are you planning?” he demanded.

Bren didn’t answer. Instead, he acted.

This time, he didn’t aim for Tony directly but for the very thing keeping him alive: the Arc Reactor.

Tony saw the attack coming but knew he couldn’t dodge in time.

Bren’s claws were a blur as they pierced the reactor’s casing, ripping it open with surgical precision.

CRACK!

The sound echoed ominously as Tony felt his chest tighten, panic setting in.