Chapter 194: The Leader
"Breaking news: a massive arson attack has occurred at the Stark Expo. The perpetrator is piloting a towering crimson-colored mech."
"We don't yet know the attacker's motives, but crowds of civilians have gathered around the Expo perimeter. They're expecting to witness a showdown between Tony Stark's bodyguard 'Iron Man' and this crimson war machine."
Aboard the Helicarrier, Tony Stark had just concluded his technical consultation with SHIELD.
He was currently lifting his faceplate with a smile, chatting with Agent Hill, when warning klaxons suddenly erupted nearby.
Tony snapped the faceplate shut with an audible click, watching the emergency news feed populate his HUD. The smile vanished instantly.
"Crimson mech? Stark Expo?"
No time to waste aboard the Helicarrier. Tony immediately went airborne, addressing Agent Hill:
"Tell Nick Fury this technical service was complimentary. Don't expect the same courtesy next time."
He pivoted and launched from the Helicarrier onto the flight deck, orienting toward home before rocketing into the clouds.
"Jarvis, pull up the Stark Expo footage." Tony commanded. "And take over piloting the Mark III."
"Of course, sir." The Jarvis AI responded immediately, complying.
Tony devoted most of his attention to the Expo news feeds, studying the crudely constructed crimson mech with narrowed eyes:
"Jarvis, does that armor look familiar to you?"
"Sir, based on visual scans and comparative analysis of the mech's exterior design, this unit bears approximately eighty percent structural similarity to the Iron Monger." Jarvis reported. "I've constructed a model removing the paint scheme for your reference."
The Stark Expo's raging flames reflected in Tony's eyes as he carefully examined Jarvis's generated model. After several moments, he spoke:
"Jarvis, run a background check on Yuri Petrovich."
"One moment, sir." Jarvis acknowledged. "Sir, do you suspect Professor Petrovich is piloting the crimson mech?"
"Perhaps someone else is behind the controls. But this mech's creator is definitely connected to him." Tony said.
"Sir, palladium toxicity is escalating. Based on your current vitals, you can sustain Mark III combat operations for approximately twenty minutes maximum." Jarvis warned.
"Then we make this quick. Aim for ten-minute engagement, Jarvis." Tony replied.
---
The Stark Expo currently blazed with towering flames. Internal personnel had evacuated outside, mixing with passersby and curiosity-seekers who'd rushed to the scene.
From their vantage point, they could only glimpse the massive conflagration with a crimson mech systematically demolishing everything inside, as though harboring personal vendetta against Stark.
"Back! Everyone back!"
Police brandished megaphones and firearms, attempting to disperse the gawkers. But the Expo's enormous footprint made crowd control impossible—blocking one section left another exposed. Younger officers were practically jumping with frustration.
Especially when a streak of fire crossed the sky, rapidly approaching the Stark Expo. When Tony Stark in his distinctive gold-and-red Mark III armor landed at the crowd's leading edge, the onlookers surged forward with renewed frenzy.
Reporters proved particularly aggressive, desperate to extract information from this armored "Iron Man"—such as whether Stark's bodyguard watched while Tony bedded supermodels.
"Welcome, everyone, to Mr. Stark's impromptu fireworks display. Please enjoy the next performance."
Tony used voice modulation to disguise his natural tone, addressing the crowd waving phones, cameras, and microphones.
Then he ignored them completely, pivoting to fly directly into the Stark Expo's inferno.
---
The pitch-black underground passage was actually an elevator shaft.
When Batman emerged from the shaft, a massive, brightly-lit plaza stretched before him.
Forty-nine soldiers surrounded Batman in formation, uniformly wielding assault rifles with protective masks covering their faces.
Batman's gaze swept past them, taking in the plaza—nearly identical in size to the surface-level gamma bomb research facility but with significantly greater ceiling height, reaching eleven feet.
Under harsh lighting, countless glass chambers filled with pale green liquid stood in orderly rows along both sides of the plaza. A massive apparatus dominated the center.
Beside the apparatus sat the largest chamber. Through the pale green fluid, Batman could barely distinguish the submerged figure—Norman Osborn.
General Ross—whose legs Batman had shattered—stood perfectly intact beside the apparatus, hands on hips, regarding the gun-encircled Batman with an expression somewhere between amusement and contempt.
Beside Ross stood someone considerably taller than the General's six-foot-three frame, currently facing away from Batman.
From Batman's angle, the figure's features remained obscured. Only the dramatically elevated rear skull was visible.
"Batman. You exceeded my time estimate by two seconds." The voice emanated from the figure with his back to Batman. "It seems I overestimated Abomination's capabilities."
Only after finishing that sentence did the figure turn around.
He possessed an enormous cranium nearly identical to Gargoyle's proportions. But unlike Gargoyle's compressed features, this man's facial structure maintained proper spacing—less grotesque, younger.
His skin displayed the same emerald tone as the transformed Hulk. Even his eyebrows and hair matched the Hulk's black coloration.
Almost instantly, Batman understood.
Before engaging Abomination on the surface level, Batman had wondered about the mysterious "Commander" Abomination referenced.
At the time, it hadn't sounded like a reference to General Ross—particularly since Abomination had cursed Ross moments earlier.
Now Batman understood. The so-called "Leader" wasn't merely a rank designation. It was this specific individual with the massive green-skinned cranium—The Leader!
"Kill him. Bring me the corpse." The Leader gestured casually with one hand.
The instant his command finished, all forty-nine soldiers surrounding Batman simultaneously squeezed their triggers.
RATATATAT—
Countless rounds discharged in a single instant, converging on Batman. The bullets didn't maintain uniform trajectory—they formed an overwhelming barrage, completely saturating the eleven-foot vertical space before Batman.
At the critical moment—facing seemingly inevitable impact—Batman's hand whipped backward, yanking the second high-altitude bat-pod deployment directly to his position.
SCREECH!
With teeth-grinding metallic shriek, the bat-pod immediately opened. But rather than splitting into three sections, it unfolded like a wardrobe, forming a massive shield that intercepted the bullet storm.
Rounds hammered the bat-pod's reverse surface in rattling cacophony, buying Batman precious seconds.
Simultaneously, on the bat-pod's forward-facing interior, six mechanical arms extended from the unit Batman had violently torn open. Each mechanical appendage gripped armor plating of varying dimensions and configurations, rapidly overlaying Batman's existing suit within moments.