Su Yi had absolutely no intention of immediately intervening in the chaos below. He watched the scene unfold on the colossal screen within the VIP box, his expression a study in analytical calm. Although going after Whiplash (Ivan Vanko) could earn him some nominal Destiny Points, the amount would be minimal, equivalent to crushing a low-level henchman.
"It would be better to leave it to Tony to handle himself, or at least to let him learn his lesson the hard way," Su Yi mused, leaning back in his chair.
"Tony's true enemies—the forces of cosmic horror, alien empires, and ancient artificial intelligence—won't wait for him to be armored and ready. If he couldn't even take down one Vanko, a man working with a crude, first-generation Arc Reactor and repurposed technology, what hope was there for the future?"
Tony needed to confront his vulnerability and the technological arrogance that led him to believe his designs were uncopyable. He needed a wake-up call that couldn't be solved by a snappy one-liner and a repulsor blast.
Whiplash stood in the center of the racetrack, holding his dual, electrified whips—weapons that looked like instruments of divine judgment. The air around the tracks immediately grew thick with the metallic tang of ozone and the smell of hot, burnt rubber.
Not long after, the leading racers, having completed a lap, returned to the straightaway only to find a suicidal figure blocking their path. Instinct and training took over; they certainly couldn't hit a pedestrian, even if that pedestrian was actively trying to kill them.
Some racers slammed the brakes and quickly swerved, accidentally skidding and crashing into the protective barriers on the side of the road. While the collisions weren't immediately fatal, the damage was considerable, deploying airbags and leaving drivers stunned.
Of course, there were also racers, caught completely off guard by the sudden, terrifying sight, who couldn't swerve in time and could only charge straight towards Vanko.
Vanko didn't flinch. He let out a primal scream of rage and vengeance, swinging the left whip in a blinding flash. The whip made contact with a sleek, million-dollar race car, and the effect was immediate and horrific: the high-performance carbon-fiber shell and reinforced chassis were sliced into two perfect halves, the front half spinning away from the rear. The car, split in half, tumbled to either side of the track like discarded toy parts.
The power was indeed not to be underestimated. Whiplash stood right in the middle, completely unaffected by the debris or the blast wave.
Su Yi watched this, his lips tightening slightly. It was unbelievable that Vanko wasn't even grazed by the high-speed wreckage.
"One could only say that the 'Villains' buff' is still a buff," Su Yi muttered, shaking his head. "With plot armor applied, it is indeed not so easy to get into trouble."
Car after car passed, and each one met with an accident or the cold steel of Vanko's wrath.
As Tony swerved his own car violently, narrowly avoiding the wreck of the vehicle in front of him, he immediately sensed the gravity of the situation. He recognized the crude Arc Reactor powering Vanko's weapons. The fear wasn't about the fight; it was about the security failure.
Fortunately, Tony managed to crash his car into the protective barriers on the side, minimizing the damage to himself. He struggled to climb out, the smell of gasoline and scorched metal overwhelming. He was now on the track, unarmed, facing a man whose whips were crackling with the destructive force of pure, contained electricity.
"Jarvis, where's the nearest suit?!" Tony mentally yelled.
"Sir, the nearest functional armor is the Mark V suitcase, currently being retrieved by Happy Hogan, approximately 400 meters away," the AI replied calmly.
Tony knew he was no match for Vanko without his armor. If he were hit by a whip, the consequences would be unimaginable—electrocution, bisection, or both. He quickly got out of the car, his mind racing to find a way to stall.
Vanko pressed on, his eyes focused entirely on his target, ignoring the surrounding chaos. Whip after whip lashed out, tearing up the asphalt behind Tony.
Tony could only flee in a panic, scrambling away from the deadly arcs of electricity. At one point, he tripped on debris, falling flat onto the ground. He looked desperately at the ruined vehicles and the pooling gasoline leaking from their tanks—an idea sparked.
Taking advantage of Vanko's momentary overextension, Tony quickly dodged a high-voltage strike. Vanko's long whip, carrying a brilliant blue electric light, struck the puddle of gasoline instead, instantly triggering a small, contained explosion.
Tony quickly rolled away, unharmed by the blast itself. Vanko was naturally also safe and sound, protected by his metal harness, but his immediate pursuit was momentarily hindered by the resulting wall of fire and smoke.
Tony knew these pitiful obstacles wouldn't stop the furious villain for long. He had to find a way to get to his armor.
Just then, Happy Hogan, driving a black sedan, swerved onto the track, tires squealing, his face a mask of determination mixed with sheer terror.
Tony was immediately delighted to see Happy appear. The cavalry! With his armor, he would be fearless.
Happy watched Vanko emerge from the smoke, swinging his whip and preparing to pursue Tony. He immediately drove his car towards Vanko, intending to ram him—a heroic, if fundamentally stupid, move.
Happy was still soft-hearted; his speed wasn't fast enough, and he even actively slowed down just before impact. He just wanted to knock Vanko away; if he actually killed him, the paperwork and subsequent emotional fallout with Tony would be unbearable.
Vanko, using the momentum of the car against him, was knocked into the protective net lining the track, temporarily tangled and unable to move immediately.
Tony, running on pure adrenaline, rushed over. "Happy, are you alright?! You idiot! What were you thinking?"
Happy, groggy but exhilarated, recovered slightly. "I'm fine, boss! I knocked him down! See? I'm good in a crisis!"
Happy was still chattering, basking in his brief moment of heroism, but Tony noticed that Vanko had already started tearing through the net. The temporary distraction was over.
"Where's my briefcase?" Tony roared, his impatience overriding his concern.
"Briefcase!" Happy was startled by Tony's scream and came back to his senses. "In the back seat! The box!"
Tony rushed to the back door to retrieve the briefcase. In that instant, Vanko freed himself and swung another whip—a massive, furious arc of energy. Tony quickly dodged, watching the driver's side door of Happy's sedan sliced off with surgical precision, the metal folding like paper.
Tony held the remnants of the car door, looking momentarily ridiculous, like a budget Captain America. However, he had no intention of using the door as a shield; he simply hurled it at Vanko to block his advance.
Just as Tony was about to grab the briefcase, Happy, still in the car, noticed Vanko's movements and the deadly, focused intention in his eyes. Happy reacted instinctively, slamming the car into reverse and accelerating backward into Vanko.
This time, the impact was greater. The rear bumper buckled, and the airbags deployed instantly, knocking Happy's head sideways and leaving him dizzy and disoriented. Vanko was sent spinning through the air, his situation now much more serious.
Tony seized the moment, tearing the briefcase from the back seat and initiating the sequence to don his armor.
Tony placed the briefcase on the ground. It unfolded with a metallic hiss and whine, the intricate silver and red pieces beginning their swift ascent around his legs. He stepped into the foot parts and lifted the chest plate with both hands. Soon, the entire suit was deploying, the armor automatically snapping into place.
Once the Mark V armor was on, everything should have been fine.
But Vanko was powered by hatred and revenge. He regained consciousness even as the final shoulder pauldron locked into place. He immediately swung his whips, the long, powerful cords carrying lethal electricity, directly slicing through the exposed, battered sedan.
Happy, sitting dazed in the driver's seat, watched as his car was cleaved in two, the back half separating cleanly. He felt a profound, lingering fear—if that whip had landed a foot to the left, he would have been instantly sliced in two.
In about ten seconds total, Tony had fully donned his armor. He kicked open the shattered driver's door, rescuing the stunned Happy.
"Go, Happy! Get clear!" Tony commanded, his voice muffled by the helmet, then he turned to face Vanko.
Tony raised his right hand, his palm repulsor charging with a recognizable, high-pitched whine. The fight is over, Vanko, he thought confidently.
However, Vanko wouldn't give Tony that chance. He swung his whip in a blur, binding Tony's repulsor-ready arm before the blast could fire, preventing Tony from using his defining ranged weapon.
The two went back and forth, but Tony, against all tactical sense, closed the distance. He attempted to use the armor's strength to pull Vanko in.
The duel quickly devolved into a reckless, close-quarters slugfest. Tony, the ultimate ranged damage dealer, was fighting a dedicated, electrically-charged warrior in melee range. The long whips were now close, their high voltage constantly striking the armor.
Tony fell into a clear disadvantage, being tightly bound and repeatedly assaulted by the dual whips. The intense, high-frequency electricity quickly scarred and damaged the portable Mark V Armor, the metal sizzling and the internal systems screaming warnings.
Su Yi watched Tony's miserable state on the screen, feeling a mixture of intellectual disappointment and affection.
"Tony, your fighting style is fundamentally problematic," Su Yi muttered, shaking his head at the screen. "Although you're wearing an Iron Man Armor, you are designed and optimized as a Ranged Fighter (ADC)."
He paused, gathering his thoughts for the inevitable lecture. "Whiplash's weapon is a long whip—a flexible, high-damage melee weapon. No matter how long, the fight still falls within the definition of close-range, Warrior-Class combat."
He leaned forward, his voice a low, exasperated rumble. "You, an ADC, chose to fight a warrior at point-blank range. Isn't that just a classic case of 'feeding him kills'? Are you in your rebellious phase? You need to learn to KITE!"
Tony finally endured the electrical onslaught. His armor, though smoking, was still functional. He used a brute force burst to break the bindings, then closed the distance entirely, realizing the error of engaging Vanko at mid-range.
At this new, impossibly close range, Vanko's long whips became useless. Tony, relying on the armor's raw kinetic power, punched him repeatedly, delivering powerful blows that slammed Vanko against the barrier. He beat Whiplash so badly that Vanko was left gasping for breath, the light in his Arc Reactor flickering.
Finally, Tony grabbed Vanko, slammed him to the ground, and looked at the crude Arc Reactor embedded in Vanko's chest. He quickly scanned it—confirming the design lineage—and then, with a single, decisive armored stomp, crushed the reactor, disabling the suit and neutralizing the threat.
Vanko's body went limp. Tony stood over him, breathing heavily.
"Tony Stark, you lose!" Vanko managed to rasp before being subdued by security.
"Haha. You lose!" Tony shot back automatically, the adrenaline still coursing through him.
But Tony quickly fell into silence. The public presence of a second Arc Reactor meant that someone could imitate him and create their own Iron Man Armors. This technological genie was now out of the bottle.
Later, after Vanko had been taken away and the scene secured, Tony returned to the hotel room, peeling off the scorched Mark V. Pepper rushed to him, fussing and relieved.
Tony, still riding the high of victory, began to detail the sheer genius of Vanko's design. "Can you believe the audacity? He built an Arc Reactor! It's crude, but it works! I need to find out who gave him access..."
But Su Yi's first words to Tony completely arrested his train of thought, leaving him bewildered and deflated.
"Tony, after taking the Water of Life and becoming younger, have you mentally entered your rebellious, brain-dead phase?"
Tony was criticized, his face full of confusion. "What? Are you talking about the car crash? I handled it!"
Su Yi continued, his critique merciless and precise. "Tony, you need to learn to KITE!"
Tony was even more confused, completely uncomprehending. "Kiting? What does that even mean? Are you talking about kites? Did you get hit in the head with one of those whips?"
"It means you maintain distance! Use your attack range advantage—the repulsors!—and prevent him from ever harming you!" Su Yi chastised, standing up and gesticulating wildly, mimicking Tony's awkward engagement.
"Don't try to argue!" Su Yi interrupted Tony's impending protest. "I saw the live feed! You didn't kite at all! You were like a mindless brute, a tank-class idiot, choosing to fight him in melee range. You let him bind your arm! You let him damage your armor! That's a rookie mistake!"
Su Yi crossed his arms, staring Tony down. "If it weren't for the fact that I boosted your health and the Mark V's raw durability, you'd probably be dead already. To be honest, your fighting style is really too stupid. It was sloppy, uncontrolled, and nearly fatal."
Tony, the genius inventor, the man who had faced down terrorists and armies, was rendered completely speechless by the depth and accuracy of Su Yi's tactical demolition. He could only sigh and accept the harsh guidance.
"OK! OK! You're right!" Tony muttered, dropping his head in defeat. "I'll study up on 'kiting.' Just... stop calling me a 'tank-class idiot.'"