The silence beneath the bedrock of Avengers Tower was suffocating, heavy, and decades deep. Thirty meters below ground level, the soft, rhythmic hissed friction of a thermal-lance cutter sliced through the final layer of reinforced concrete.
SSSSSSSS-HHH...
A half-ton concrete slab gave way, tilting inward with a muted, metallic crunch.
Felicia Hardy dropped lightly into the corridor like a shadow given form, her silver claws retracting into her leather gloves. She swept her night-vision visor over the polished chrome-and-steel expanse of Sub-Level B-5—Stark’s off-the-books vault for sensitive prototypes and historic relics.
"Path's clear..." Felicia whispered, glancing back over her shoulder. "The security grid down here is totally silent. Natasha, your analog bypass actually worked."
Natasha dropped through the breach a second later, her boots making almost no sound against the steel grating. Her twin suppressed Glocks were raised, her steel-grey eyes scanning the high-tech vault with practiced, lethal skepticism.
"It's too quiet," Natasha murmured, her thumb resting lightly on her weapon's safety. "Tony doesn't leave historical vaults running on unmonitored sub-routines. Not even his personal trophy room."
"Oh, Moscow, don't be such a wet blanket!"
Jack strolled out from the dust cloud, wringing his hands together with theatrical delight. He was back in his signature lavender velvet jacket, his face free of greasepaint, though his eyes glowed with a terrifying, bloodshot [35.0% SYNCHRONIZATION] frenzy.
"Rich guys love building giant subterranean vaults for their ego!" Jack rasped, stepping toward a floor-to-ceiling glass case housing a pristine, polished Mark I suit replica. "Look at this place! It’s like a museum dedicated entirely to industrial arrogance! Oh, I bet he’s got his old college tennis trophies in here somewhere!"
Before Jack’s gloved hand could make contact with the glass...
WOOSH-WOOSH-WOOSH!
Blinding, high-intensity stadium arc-lights snapped on from the ceiling, flooding the entire sub-vault in harsh, surgical white light! A three-ton blast door slammed shut behind them with a deafening, hydraulic CLANG-SHICK!, sealing the tunnel breach completely.
"Welcome to the main event, clown."
The suave, echoey voice didn't come over an intercom—it came directly from the glass private elevator descending from the upper tower.
Tony Stark stepped out onto the polished steel floor. He wasn't wearing a full suit of armor—just dark trousers and a faded Black Sabbath t-shirt. But fitted over his right forearm was a pulsing, neon-cyan Nanotech Repulsor Gauntlet, humming with lethal readiness. Hovering behind him in a military formation were eight miniature automated combat drones, their targeting lasers locked onto Jack's chest.
"I knew you'd take the subway route, Jack," Tony said, stepping forward with an easy, confident smirk. "Did you really think you bypassed my system? I set a digital honeypot the second you tapped into the Queens power grid three nights ago."
Felicia instantly bared her claws, shifting into a low combat stance, while Natasha stepped smoothly in front of Jack, shielding his unarmored torso with her body, her guns trained directly on Tony's un-helmeted head.
"Tony... don't do this," Natasha warned softly, her tone icy and precise.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Nat," Tony replied, his eyes flicking to her briefly before locking onto Jack. "As long as you step aside. But this guy? He breached three S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities, stole alien tech, hijacked a live broadcast on television, and turned my suit into a viral circus on Youtube and evening cable news."
Jack stood dead still under the glaring lights. He didn't reach for a smoke bomb. He didn't run. Instead, a wide, wet, unhinged grin slowly dragged across his pale face, highlighting his crimson lip balm scar.
"Oh, come on, Anthony!" Jack cackled softly, a raspy hehehe bubbling up from his chest. "You have to admit, your hips were surprisingly fluid during the Macarena! My sources at YouTube say the bootleg recording hit five million views before S.H.I.E.L.D. pulled the server!"
Tony's jaw tightened, the repulsor gauntlet whining as its energy core charged to maximum output.
"No more shows, Jack," Tony growled. "My new suit protocols are running on an isolated localized network. Your little wireless hacking trick won't work in this room. The EMP dampeners in the walls are blocking all radio frequencies. Game over."
[ALERT: HIGH-TECH AMBUSH DETECTED!]
Enemy: Iron Man (Tony Stark - Nanotech Gauntlet Mode) & Combat Drones x8
Environmental Hazard: Localized EMP Field (Blocks Wireless Hacking)
Recommended Action: Engage in "Physical Anarchy"!
Jack threw his head back and let out a long, screeching laugh that echoed violently off the steel walls of the vault. He licked his lips, his bloodshot eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated madness.
"Game over?!" Jack shrieked happily, taking a wide, theatrical bow toward the eight combat drones. "Oh, Tony, you silly, brilliant man... the curtain hasn't even gone up yet! WELCOME TO THE FINALE!"
Current Status:
Synchronization Level: 35.0%
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