Whiplash stood in the middle of the track, an electric whip gripped in each hand.
Blue and white electric arcs danced wildly along the whips, crackling and sizzling, illuminating his scruffy face and paranoid, bloodshot eyes.
“Tony Stark…” he growled, his Russian accent heavy.
“Today is the end of the Stark family!”
With a sudden jerk of his arms, the electric whips spun in the air, tearing through the wind with a piercing shriek.
“Die!”
Both whips lashed out at once, carrying terrifying high-voltage arcs as they struck the wreckage of the overturned red F1 racecar.
*Boom!*
The sound of tearing metal exploded.
The racecar was cleaved straight down the middle.
Shrapnel flew in all directions as thick smoke billowed upward.
The entire crowd held their breath.
The live broadcast camera zoomed in frantically.
The commentator’s voice trembled: “My God…
that strike is enough to slice a man in half…”
Whiplash panted, staring into the thick smoke.
He was waiting.
Waiting to see Tony Stark’s corpse, or at least a shot of him screaming in agony.
The smoke slowly cleared.
A figure was kneeling on one knee amid the debris.
His right hand was raised, fingers tightly gripping the end of an electric whip.
Blue and white currents, like countless venomous snakes, surged up the whip and onto his arm, spreading across his entire body and bursting into crackling sparks on his skin.
But the man…
…lifted his head.
Wearing his signature, cynical smirk.
Tony Stark.
“Wow.” He tilted his head, the electric current casting an icy blue glow in his eyes.
“This massage…
what setting is it on?”
Dead silence fell over the arena.
Dead silence for three whole seconds.
And then…
“Aaaaaah!”
A tidal wave of gasps and cheers erupted!
The crowd in the stands leaped to their feet in a frenzy, raising their phones and cameras as a sea of flashing lights broke out.
On the live broadcast, the commentator babbled incoherently:
“H-H-He’s alive!
Tony Stark grabbed a high-voltage electric whip with his bare hands!
Electricity is coursing through him, but he’s still smiling!
This is unscientific!”
In the banquet hall.
Pepper pressed a hand to her forehead in exasperation.
“…Tony.
Do you have any idea how exhausting it is for me to patch you up every time?”
Beside her, Natasha crossed her arms, watching Tony show off on screen with a faint smirk playing on her lips.
Just then, on screen…
*Screech!*
The sharp screech of burning rubber rang out.
Another red-and-white F1 racecar executed a smooth drift, sliding to a perfect halt five meters away from the wreckage.
The door popped open.
Shaun Vance leaped out, casually removing his helmet and shaking out his hair.
He walked over to Tony, glancing at the electricity still crackling across Tony’s body, then at Whiplash, who stood frozen in disbelief.
“Quite the showman,” Shaun Vance said, raising an eyebrow.
“Looking to monopolize tomorrow’s headlines?
‘Iron Man Resists Electricity Bare-Handed—Suspected Mutant’?”
Tony grinned.
He deliberately let a pulse of electricity ripple across his body, shaking in an exaggerated tremor.
“Sss—!
I have to say, this electric massage is pretty stimulating.
Want to try?
Consider it a free therapy session.”
Whiplash finally snapped out of his shock.
“N-No…
impossible…” he muttered.
Then, his shock turned to pure rage, and he violently yanked his left hand!
The other electric whip tore out of the debris, crackling with even wilder arcs of electricity as it lashed toward Shaun Vance, who was casually spectating.
Shaun didn’t dodge either.
He didn’t even look at the whip.
He casually raised his right hand.
*Smack.*
His fingers clamped precisely around the whip.
*Bzzz!*
A current thicker than the last surged instantly into his arm!
But Shaun Vance merely raised an eyebrow.
“The voltage is decent,” he evaluated, closing his eyes to sense the changes inside his body.
The Iron Body technique activated automatically.
A bluish-black metallic luster surfaced on his skin.
The electricity formed a dense, net-like circuit across his body, but it could not penetrate even a fraction of an inch.
Instead…
it was stimulating his deep muscle tissue.
[Ding!
Iron Body proficiency has significantly increased!] [Current Progress: 97% -> 99%] [System Notice: Armament Haki embryonic form has been activated.
Current Unlock Rate: 1%]
Shaun opened his eyes, a flash of delight crossing them.
Who knew there were benefits like this?
He simply held onto the whip, actively guiding the current to circulate through his body to practice the advanced force-exertion techniques of Iron Body.
Across from him, Whiplash had completely lost his mind.
“Why?!
Why isn’t it working?!
My whips can tear through steel plate!
They can melt iron!
What on earth are you?!”
He roared, letting go of the whip handles and lunging at Tony with his bare hands!
A two-meter-tall Russian brute, his muscles bulging, charging like a grizzly bear out of control!
Tony took a half-step back and shouted toward the sidelines:
“Happy!
Is the delivery here?!”
“Coming, boss!”
Happy Hogan hurled a red briefcase over the safety barrier with all his might!
The briefcase traced a parabola through the air, unfolding and transforming automatically.
Tony leaped!
*Clack!
Clank!
Clack!*
Armor components latched onto his body with precision, mechanical locks snapping shut in rapid succession!
0.8 seconds.
The Mark 5 Iron Man armor, fully deployed!
The streamlined silver-and-red chassis gleamed as the faceplate’s optical sensors lit up in icy blue.
*Whoosh!*
The crowd gasped in awe once more!
The sheer level of excitement today exceeded everything they had witnessed in their entire lives combined!
Whiplash’s fist crashed toward Tony’s faceplate, but stopped ten centimeters short.
It was halted.
Effortlessly caught by a steel palm.
“Honestly, the tech isn’t bad.
But you have an efficiency issue with your reactor.
The cycles per second are a bit slow.”
Tony’s voice came through the speaker, dripping with banter.
“You should have doubled the rotation speed.”
Whiplash froze.
Tony slammed his armored helmet forward!
*Thud!*
A solid, heavy metal headbutt!
Whiplash was sent flying three meters back, crashing heavily onto the track, rolling twice before lying still.
Tony walked over, his faceplate sliding up, and crouched down.
With a few swift movements, he dismantled the crude harness on Whiplash’s chest and extracted the makeshift Arc Reactor.
The welding was rough, and the overloaded blue light flickered erratically.
“Where did you get the schematics?” Tony asked.
“SHIELD’s archives don’t have records of…
whatever craft-class project this is.”
Whiplash coughed up blood, his eyes still burning with obsessive hatred.
“My father…
Anton Vanko…
invented the Arc Reactor with your father…
but Howard Stark…
stole his work…
and had him deported…”
Tony frowned, studying the reactor in his hand.
Suddenly, he laughed.
“The plasma confinement ring is offset by at least three millimeters.”
He tapped the reactor casing with an armored finger.
“The energy dissipation rate exceeds forty percent.
Anyone using this thing for three months would get radiation poisoning.”
He looked up at Whiplash, his gaze sharp.
“Tell me, why would my father steal a…
defective piece of junk that doesn’t even meet basic safety standards?”
Whiplash stared blankly.
But he quickly shook his head, snarling, “Lies…
Stark family lies…
You altered history…”
Tony stood up and shook his head.
Then, he suddenly turned to the nearest live broadcast camera lens and shouted:
“Justin Hammer!
Stop hiding, I know you’re watching!
Come collect your ‘prize’!”
Three minutes later.
Justin Hammer ran onto the track out of breath, one of his suit buttons fastened in the wrong hole, his glasses askew on his face.
But his eyes were glowing.
He stared intently at the crude reactor in Tony’s hand.
“T-Tony!” He struggled to suppress his excitement.
“What is this…”
Tony gestured to the absolute mess of the racetrack.
“Repairs, television broadcast cancellation fees, mental distress compensation for the spectators…
put it all on Hammer Industries’ tab.”
“As for this guy…” He nudged Whiplash with his foot.
“You take him.”
Hammer was stunned.
“W-what?”
Tony ignored him, turning back to crouch in front of Whiplash.
“You’re dead set on the idea that you’re better than me, aren’t you?
Claiming I stole your father’s tech?”
“I’ll give you three months.”
“Work with Hammer.
Use his resources, his factories, his money, and build a suit of armor.”
“Three months from now, we’ll find a place and have a public showdown.”
Tony grinned, showing off a flash of blinding white teeth.
“We’ll use technology to prove who the real thief is, and who the real genius is.”
“Do you dare?”
Whiplash stared into Tony’s eyes.
There was no mockery, no contempt.
Only a kind of near-arrogant expectation…
a genius waiting on a mediocrity.
Like a professor waiting for a student to solve a difficult equation.
The flame of paranoia in Whiplash’s chest was thoroughly ignited by that look.
“You will regret this, Stark,” he rasped, squeezing each word through gritted teeth.
“I will build a suit…
that crushes your little tin toy to pieces.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Tony stood up and waved Hammer over.
“Take him away.
Remember to get him some radiation insurance.
Judging by the design of that thing on his chest, I doubt he’ll survive past next year.”
Hammer did his best to suppress his ecstasy, but the corners of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.
An Arc Reactor…
A technical talent capable of independently manufacturing a reactor…
The biggest technological barrier protecting Stark Industries was about to be breached by Hammer Industries!
“Th-that’s incredibly generous, Tony!” Hammer bent down to help Whiplash up.
“I promise I’ll take…
excellent care of this genius!”
In the pit lane.
Tony powered down the Mark 5 armor and tossed the briefcase to Happy.
Shaun Vance walked beside him as they made their way toward the lounge.
“Giving someone who can build an Arc Reactor from scratch directly to your number-one competitor?” Shaun nudged him with his shoulder.
“What’s going through that head of yours, Tony?”
Tony laughed boastfully, slinging an arm around Shaun’s shoulder.
“My genius is one of a kind!
Even if you gave that Russian bear a full Stark lab and a team of a hundred PhDs, he’d still only manage to build an exploding iron coffin!”
“Pride goes before a fall,” Shaun quipped.
“Our ancestors said that thousands of years ago.”
Tony’s grin faltered for a fraction of a second.
He lowered his voice.
“But seriously, do me a favor.”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t sell any Devil Fruits to him, or to anyone at Hammer Industries, for the next three months.”
Shaun raised an eyebrow.
“Weren’t you acting all high and mighty just now?
‘My genius is one of a kind’?”
Tony nudged him back.
“Are you going to help or not?
If you do…
I can arrange for Christine to pay a private visit to your room tonight for an ‘interview’.”
The two men looked at each other.
They both grinned in mutual understanding.
“Since we’re cut from the same cloth,” Shaun shrugged, “deal.”
“My man!” Tony clapped him hard on the back.
“See you at the yacht party tonight!
All the champagne and beauties you could ever want!”