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Gulmira, Afghanistan
"...%￥#&!"
"&&￥##!"
Harsh, guttural shouts echoed through the dusty streets as a group of armed terrorists stormed through the town. Submachine guns were raised, their dark muzzles pointed at the terrified residents as they were herded together like cattle. Anyone who hesitated was shoved forward or struck without mercy.
Fear hung thick in the air.
Men shouted in panic, desperately trying to shield their families. Women clutched their children, sobbing openly. Some people didn't even get the chance to beg; those who moved too slowly or looked the wrong way were gunned down without hesitation, their bodies collapsing into the dirt.
The town had already lost its hope.
Though the infamous leader Raza had been captured by S.H.I.E.L.D., he was never more than a mid-level pawn within the Ten Rings. The organization barely slowed down. Someone else had stepped into his place almost immediately, and Gulmira continued to suffer as it always had.
Nothing had changed.
"&%￥#!"
"&%&%!"
One terrorist jammed the barrel of his submachine gun against the head of a man lying face-down on the ground, screaming orders he didn't need to understand. Nearby, the man's wife and young son clung to each other, crying and begging over and over again. Their pleas went unheard.
Then—
*Whoosh!*
A deep, thunderous roar tore through the sky, low and heavy, like a jet slicing straight through the clouds. Every person in the square instinctively looked up.
For a split second, the world seemed to blur. A shadow rapidly expanded overhead, growing larger and larger until—
*WHAM!*
Something crashed into the ground with overwhelming force, sending dust and debris exploding outward. The earth shook beneath their feet.
Standing at the center of the impact was a towering, metallic figure.
A robot.
Both the townspeople and the terrorists froze in disbelief, staring wide-eyed at the armored figure rising from the smoke. For a moment, no one moved. No one spoke.
A robot falling from the sky was far beyond anything they could comprehend.
There was no mistaking it, though. The only person on Earth who could make an entrance like that was Tony Stark.
*Rat-tat-tat!*
Gunfire erupted without warning. One of the terrorists snapped out of his shock and immediately opened fire, unloading a full burst of bullets into the armored figure.
The rounds sparked and ricocheted harmlessly off the metal plating, clattering uselessly to the ground without leaving even a scratch.
Tony didn't flinch.
*Boom!*
He raised one armored hand, palm glowing with concentrated energy. A repulsor blast fired instantly, slamming into the terrorist and sending him flying backward like a ragdoll.
"&...￥!"
"&￥#@!"
The moment those shouts rang out, the situation exploded into pure chaos. Shock instantly turned into rage as the terrorists screamed and unleashed a storm of gunfire, emptying their magazines at Tony without hesitation.
Bullets hammered against the armor in a relentless barrage, but at best, it felt like nothing more than a mild annoyance. Sparks flew, metal rang, and yet the armored figure didn't so much as stagger. Tony dealt with them swiftly, decisively, and without any unnecessary movement.
Realizing brute force wasn't working, the remaining terrorists panicked. In desperation, they grabbed several townspeople and jammed the cold barrels of their submachine guns against their heads, shouting threats in a frantic attempt to turn the situation around.
It was a mistake.
They had gravely underestimated the so-called "robot" standing before them.
*Hiss!*
Without warning, six gun barrels extended seamlessly from within the armor. In the same instant, six shots rang out. The rounds tore through the air with surgical precision, each one striking its mark.
Every terrorist dropped. Clean headshots. No hesitation. No wasted motion. Efficient and precise
One last terrorist, shaking uncontrollably, ducked behind a nearby wall and frantically pulled out a phone. He whispered urgently, convinced he was hidden, convinced no one could see him. What he didn't know was that Tony Stark had already locked onto him through layered thermal and X-ray scans. To Tony, the man's outline glowed clearly, fear and all.
*Bang!*
Tony raised his hand and fired a single armor-piercing round.
The thick wall was punched through like paper. The terrorist was struck head-on, his body nearly torn apart by the force. Death was instant, and there was no room for doubt.
"Very nice," Tony muttered, clearly pleased.
This had been the Arms-Arms Fruit's first real combat trial, and the results exceeded expectations. Every function worked flawlessly. Firepower, versatility, precision, it all matched his designs perfectly. Tony couldn't have asked for more.
After a final scan confirmed that no enemies remained, Tony didn't bother with speeches or grand gestures. Twin trails of blazing exhaust ignited behind him as he lifted effortlessly into the air. On his way out, he casually fired a few shots, reducing a nearby terrorist base to rubble as if it were nothing more than an afterthought.
"Woohoo!" Tony laughed, soaring freely through the sky, exhilaration clear in his voice.
What he didn't realize, however, was that his little joyride hadn't gone unnoticed. Far away, in a heavily secured United States Air Force command center, alarms quietly began to sound.
"What the hell is that?" one technician exclaimed. "Who authorized flight in this airspace?"
"Get the Department of Defense on the line," another snapped. "Now."
"Has the CIA been contacted?"
"They're asking if it's us!"
"And it's not the Marines either!"
Inside the command room, analysts stared at satellite feeds and radar data, confusion spreading rapidly across their faces. The unidentified flying object didn't match any known aircraft, drone, or experimental project on record. Every relevant department had been contacted, and every single one denied responsibility.
In a matter of moments, the room fell silent.
For the first time in a long while, the world's most advanced military had been caught completely off guard.
"Get Rhodes from Weapons Development in here!" After a brief but tense silence, the commanding officer made his call.
It didn't take long. James Rhodes arrived soon after, his expression serious as he listened to the commander carefully describe the unidentified flying object, its speed, maneuverability, firepower, and the fact that it didn't match anything in their records.
By the time the report ended, Rhodes looked just as baffled as everyone else. "I've never seen or heard of anything like that," he admitted.
But even as he said it, a familiar name surfaced in his mind. 'Unless… Stark?'
The timing was too suspicious to ignore. Not long ago, a terrorist base near the site of Tony Stark's disappearance had been obliterated. Now, out of nowhere, an unknown flying object was tearing through restricted airspace like it owned the sky.
It wasn't proof, but it was close.
Rhodes mentally ran the odds and came to a conclusion. There was at least an eighty percent chance this thing was Tony Stark's latest creation. As ridiculous as it sounded, it was also the most Tony explanation possible.
Without wasting another second, Rhodes pulled out his phone and dialed. "Hey, Tony!"
"…Uh, who's this?" On the other end, the sound of roaring wind nearly drowned out the voice. Tony clearly wasn't somewhere quiet.
"It's me, Rhodey!" Rhodes practically yelled, repeating himself several times before the line cleared.
"Oh! Hey, Rhodey!" Tony replied brightly, as if this were a perfectly normal call.
Rhodes frowned. "Why is it so loud where you are?" he asked immediately.
"I'm driving a convertible," Tony said casually. "So what's up?"
Rhodes pinched the bridge of his nose. "I need your help with something."
By then, Tony already knew exactly what this was about. He didn't even bother pretending. "I know what you're getting at, Rhodey. You guys spotted something unusual, didn't you?"
There was a brief pause. Tony considered his options and then decided there was no real point in lying.
The Devil Fruit shop wasn't some secret black-market operation. It was openly doing business. And after what had happened in Afghanistan, after Devil Fruit users had literally saved his life, this kind of attention was inevitable.
Whether he explained things now or later, the outcome wouldn't change.
"I knew it!" Rhodes snapped, frustration flooding his voice. "Stark, that unidentified flying object is yours, isn't it?! This isn't a joke! You can't just drop experimental tech into my warzone like it's a test drive!"
"Rhodes," Tony replied calmly, almost amused, "this isn't civilian tech."
There was a brief pause.
"It's a very… special fruit I bought."
"…A fruit?" Rhodes completely froze. For a full second, his brain refused to process what he'd just heard.
"A fruit?" he repeated slowly.
This was supposed to be about an unidentified flying object violating restricted airspace. What did a fruit, any fruit, have to do with flying armor, repulsor blasts, and blowing up terrorist bases?
Rhodes stared at the phone, utterly speechless, wondering, just for a moment, if Tony Stark had finally lost his mind.
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Next Chapter: When Greed Walked Through the Door
Next Next Chapter: The Iron Monger's Chosen Power
Next Next Next Chapter: A Power That Preys on Other Powers
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