Marvel's Iron Lady

Miss Stark indeed made a show of force, flaunting her strength. But unfortunately, the bearded, overweight terrorist leader only gaped in stunned silence, gulping nervously as if already scared out of his wits.

In truth, she wasn't kidding—the predetermined strike locations were already logged in the satellite control system, with Jarvis remotely directing the other six Mark-7 Iron Man suits to completely obliterate the Ten Rings' seven main bases in the Afghan war zone.

She had, of course, considered that there might be a few innocent captives at the Ten Rings strongholds, people the terrorists had abducted and taken there. Those people, too, might perish in the assault. But, in the end, she had no choice.

The Mark-7 Iron Man suits lacked the ability to distinguish civilians from terrorists, especially considering that many captives had been forcibly conscripted into the Ten Rings. And as for her own limitations, even possessing two Infinity Stones didn't mean she could rescue every captive in those camps.

In times of manpower shortages, the Ten Rings had been known to spare certain men, recruiting them by force, and training even young children as assassins and human bombs.

The Ten Rings' influence was a grave threat to this region. If her mercy allowed terrorists to hide among fleeing civilians and escape, they would not be grateful—they would only return with even greater vengeance on their own people.

Miss Stark had never thought of herself as a superhero, nor as a benevolent figure or a saint, so she was willing to be on the side of eliminating every single threat rather than letting any escape.

"This one… I'll leave to you."

Before leaving, she made this remark, kicking the now-terrified bearded leader toward the refugees gathered in the square. He had committed countless atrocities and would now serve as the perfect outlet for the townspeople's anger.

She didn't care whether the gathered survivors understood her words. She simply lowered her faceplate and took to the sky once more.

Destroying the Ten Rings' primary bases was just part of her revenge. The more pressing task was to track down and destroy the Stark Industries weapons that had ended up in terrorists' hands.

Of course, it wasn't only Stark Industries' products; for instance, finished Jericho missiles, freshly transferred to the U.S. military, had already found their way to the terrorists. This fact made Miss Stark suspect that certain elements within the military weren't entirely clean.

This ruined town of Gulmira was just the beginning. Next, she planned to target and destroy every Stark Industries weapon within reach.

The seven Mark-7 Iron Man suits, in a relentless sweep around the Afghan war zone, struck the terrorists' weapons depots with brutal efficiency. Such a bold operation was bound to draw attention.

In just a few hours, an influx of reports, data, and blurred satellite images had landed on the desks of various government and intelligence agency leaders.

Afghanistan had long been viewed as the U.S. military's playground and a major revenue source for the Department of Defense—war, after all, could be a highly profitable business, generating billions each year from illicit ventures in the region.

The American military was already in an uproar as news of the attacks spread across the Department of Defense.

"Damn it! What the hell is that thing? Get the Secretary of Defense on the phone—this needs an immediate response. This is a direct provocation against the United States! We must retaliate. Deploy additional scanning equipment, find it!"

"What's the CIA saying? Have they responded?"

"They're asking if our aircraft attacked the terrorist sites; they have undercover agents who haven't been evacuated yet."

"Naval and Marine command confirmed it's not their equipment—they even called to ask us what's going on, sir."

"Do we have visuals? Did the satellites manage to track it?"

"Apologies, sir. It's too fast—our radar can't lock onto it."

At Edwards Air Force Base in California, one of the largest U.S. bases, the command center was in a frenzy, struggling to make sense of the situation.

It was only after the Air Force ordered all phased-array radars in the Middle East to scan, in conjunction with satellite surveillance, that they finally captured the highly mobile Mark-7 Iron Man suits on their live-feed monitors.

As the golden-red figure moved at Mach 4.2 on the screens, the command center fell into a stunned silence.

When Miss Stark had initially tested the Mark-7 suit, a bystander's video had gone viral online. Some believed it; others didn't. Most people were skeptical of the idea that a billionaire was flying around in a suit of armor.

Since Stark Industries had neither confirmed nor denied the rumors—and because they were currently grappling with the closed weapons division and a stalled sales channel—the U.S. Department of Defense had ultimately dismissed the footage, assuming it was just some high-quality CGI work.

Now, with Miss Stark and the seven Jarvis-controlled suits brazenly rampaging through the American military's "backyard," wreaking havoc on Afghan soil—even if their targets were primarily the Ten Rings—the military could only interpret it as a challenge.

Initially, confusion reigned as they struggled to determine what exactly was causing such chaos in their territory. But as the suits' images emerged from the synchronized radar and satellite tracking—each second of which burned a significant chunk of their budget—a hush fell over the room.

Looking at the woman-shaped figure on the main monitor, streaking across the screen, Lieutenant General Gabriel of the Air Force slowly broke the silence after a few seconds.

"Get Colonel James Rhodes from the Weapons Development Division in here—he's got ties to the Stark Industries CEO."

Within minutes, Colonel James Rhodes arrived, drenched in sweat, immediately noticing the peculiar tension in the air.

Every monitor in the command center displayed the same golden-red figure soaring through the sky.

The intelligence officers seated at their consoles turned almost in unison to regard their colleague, former Air Force man and now Weapons Development Division head, Colonel James Rhodes, with questioning looks.

"You're the only one who can help us with this mess, Colonel."

"Mind telling us, us grunts, just what the hell that thing is?"

Lieutenant General Gabriel stepped up beside Rhodes, clapping a hand on his shoulder before speaking, carefully choosing his words.

Rhodes wiped the cold sweat from his brow as he stared at the Mark-7 suit on the screen.

As the bridge between the U.S. military and Stark Industries, Rhodes was well-acquainted with Miss Stark. They had been friends for years, so he had, of course, seen the viral video making rounds online.

At the time, he had dismissed it as just a fun, CG-generated clip that Miss Stark might have thrown together for attention. But now, his assumptions were crumbling in the face of reality.

Above, in the skies, Miss Stark smiled slightly as the mission results came in: all targets had been successfully destroyed by the suits under Jarvis's control, and the remaining units were en route back.

She planned to use this opportunity to return to Dubai and put this entire incident to rest. But just as she was redirecting her course, a familiar face popped up on her HUD display—it was Rhodes, calling in.

"Explain this—are you in Saudi Arabia or flying over Afghanistan?!"

Before she could even greet him, Rhodes's voice erupted in a tirade, so loud that she reflexively turned her head, forgetting that she was wearing a helmet rather than regular earphones.

"And why did you have to drop everything to fly off to Saudi Arabia at a time like this?! You said it was just to throw a birthday party for Pepper, even asked me if I'd come along—how could I not see it? How did I not realize you'd pull something like this?!"

As he finished speaking, Rhodes stepped into a corner of the command center, lowering his voice to ensure only she could hear his next words.

"Do you have any idea how many people you've killed this time? Do you know how many civilians, how many undercover agents from intelligence agencies, were caught up in this?"

"I seriously don't get what you were thinking. Do you realize they could haul you into a military tribunal—or worse, an international court?! Believe me!"

"Take it easy, Rhodes—no one's going to come after me. I'll make sure of it. If you don't believe me, just wait and see. Now, I've got a party to get back to, so I'm hanging up."

Miss Stark didn't care much about Rhodes's concerns. She wouldn't be out here, so openly and unrestrained, if she thought there would be any real consequences. After all, once her automated factory began mass-producing Iron Man suits, no one would be able to threaten her. She wasn't Tony Stark, bound by moral scruples, when her safety or interests were at stake, playing by the rules was pointless. Better to flip the table and eliminate anyone who stood against her.

After ending the call, Miss Stark considered reaching out to Nick Fury, perhaps to advise him not to panic. But almost predictably, Fury greeted her with an immediate reprimand.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. Director was unequivocal, emphasizing that her reckless actions had destabilized the already fragile situation in the Middle East and caused significant casualties, practically handing her enemies leverage on a silver platter.

And, in truth, he was right. During the initial testing phase of the Mark-7 suit, a bystander had taken a quick video and posted it online, creating an inevitable link between Miss Stark and the Iron Man suit in the public eye.

With an incident like this, attacks by Iron Man suits in Afghanistan, anyone with basic reasoning skills would deduce that this was Miss Stark's personal revenge.

While her motivations might have been driven by vengeance, the resulting civilian casualties were high—even though the victims were primarily terrorists. In the eyes of the media, just a slight change in narrative would convince the public that innocent civilians had been killed, branding her a ruthless killer.

In such a situation, not only would Stark Industries come under fire, but she herself would also face an unprecedented level of scrutiny.

"...I could try to help with the PR situation, but what I want to know is—are those suits really that powerful?"

As expected, after his rant, Fury turned his attention back to the Iron Man suit.

After all, he and Miss Stark had an agreement that she would deliver a prototype suit to S.H.I.E.L.D., leaving them to reverse-engineer what they could on their own.

Naturally, Miss Stark had no objection to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s support with public relations, especially if all they wanted in return was a prototype.

For her, it was an almost negligible price—the prototype was cobbled together with scraps from dismantled missiles, a relatively crude assembly, devoid of her advanced arc reactor core, which she had long since removed.

Buried in the rubble of that bombed-out cave, the prototype was practically worthless. Getting it would be a fool's errand for S.H.I.E.L.D.

As the seven Mark-7 suits regrouped, Miss Stark re-entered Saudi Arabian airspace, returning to her luxury villa on the outskirts of Dubai—just in time for a faint noise to stir a sleepy Pepper from her slumber on the lounge sofa.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

40 Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon: 

Patreon.com/DaoOfHeaven