A Family Party Where Not Everyone Arrived

Wu Yanzu, like a modern-day Atlas, lifted up a life in despair and slowly lowered it down.

His landing was very slow, very steady, and very ceremonial.

"Bang."

With a soft thud, the alloy tray landed steadily in the center of Times Square, without damaging a single taxi.

"..."

Times Square was still filled with cheers and jubilation.

The thirteen passengers, trembling, unbuckled their seatbelts and stepped off the "tray" with lingering fear.

"Homelander!!!"

"Homelander!!!!"

"Homelander—!!!!!"

Azu stood in front of the tray, a Stars and Stripes cape slowly falling behind him.

Then, facing the recent Walt News camera, he gave a "just right" tired and "relieved" smile.

"I just...did what I was supposed to do."

"Everyone... is safe now."

"Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap—!!!"

The spotlights instantly illuminated the entire square!

The photo of him holding up the wreckage and saving thirteen people became the undisputed cover of major media outlets and magazines within a day.

Ding! You have gained 154015 popularity points!

Ding! You have gained 201240 popularity points!

Ding! You have gained 171552 popularity points!

……

Feeling the power surging through his body, Azu comfortably closed his eyes.

While New Yorkers celebrated their heroes

Tony Stark, aka "Iron Man," has only just found a clue.

……

Roxon Marina, Florida.

The night was like a soaked black rag, and the air was filled with the stench of diesel fuel, dead fish, and sea salt.

The fact that Tony doesn't have post-traumatic stress disorder means that he didn't build an army of steel like a madman in his basement in Malibu.

He's still the same Tony Stark—arrogant, intelligent, and extremely dependent on his iron shell.

Therefore, although there was no steel army, there was still a steel assault team.

However, at this moment, they were all rushing over from their hometown in California, thousands of miles away.

"Jarvis, are you still there, buddy?" Tony whispered into a rudimentary communicator on his wrist.

"At your service, sir. But the signal is extremely unstable," Jarvis's voice trailed off.

"That bastard Killian is right here." Rhodes gestured, pointing to the brightly lit drilling platform area in the center of the tanker. "The president must be there."

They crept along in the shadows, and Tony felt like he was playing Metal Gear Solid, but he didn't even have a cardboard box.

"Shit!" Rod suddenly pulled him into the shadow of a shipping container.

Two soldiers, their bodies radiating an orange-red glow, walked over.

"The Extremis virus..." Tony narrowed his eyes. "They're walking time bombs. Jarvis, analyze their heat signature. Where's their weakness?"

"Analysis in progress... sir, their core heat source is in... their head. But their body surface temperature can reach three thousand degrees Celsius."

"Fuck."

"Hey, Rhodes," Tony suddenly pointed to a huge crude oil storage tank above, "look there."

Rod looked in the direction he was pointing.

A figure was suspended atop the giant fuel tank, which was as tall as a five-story building.

It was the US president, looking utterly hopeless, trapped inside the Steel Patriot armor.

"My God..." Rhodes gasped, "They've hung the president from a fuel tank!"

"It's a bit like a Viking funeral."

"Burn them to death with oil?"

That's not a metaphor.

President Ellis, like a piece of cured meat, was bound with ropes and suspended directly above the giant fuel tank. Below him, dozens of Extremis soldiers were on patrol.

The announcement repeated over the loudspeaker: "Live broadcast about to begin, return to your posts..."

"Who goes there?!"

A soldier from Desperate Situation spotted them.

"Damn it!" Rod cursed, raising the pistol he had stolen.

"Don't fire!" Tony yelled.

But it was too late.

"Bang!"

The bullet struck the soldier in the chest like butter being thrown into a furnace; it melted instantly.

"Intruders!!"

The alarm sounded throughout the entire oil tanker.

"Damn it!" Tony grabbed his messy hair. "Jarvis! How long until the Merry Christmas party guys arrive?!"

"Sir, ... estimated arrival time: four minutes."

Tony pulled Rod and hid behind a bunch of pipes.

"Four minutes?!" He stared at the dozen or so humanoid furnaces charging towards them. "Jarvis! Are you fucking kidding me? You'll be collecting my corpses in four minutes!"

"Tony! Get down!" Rhodes tackled him to the ground.

"boom--!!"

The spot where they had just been was punched by a Desperate soldier, creating a deep, molten crater.

"Okay, okay..." At this moment, Killian gracefully walked out from the platform. He didn't even look at the president, but instead looked at the two disheveled figures with great interest.

"Wow! Tony Stark... and Colonel Rhodes. What a... pleasant surprise." Killian smiled calmly and confidently.

"Killian!" Tony stood up, brushing the dust off his clothes. "Long time no see. Your outfit...did you join some cult? Or is 'The Desperate Artist' your new look this year?"

"Tony," Killian's face twisted, "you're nothing but a turtle that hides in its shell!"

"You're looking for the Mandarin? No substitute, I am the Mandarin, always have been! Hahaha!! And you... will die at the hands of the Mandarin today!" Killian roared, and with a command, his men poured out.

Just then.

"Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—!!!"

A piercing sound came from the western sky!

"They're here!" Tony exclaimed with delight!

A dozen or so beams of light from the boosters ripped through the night sky like a swarm of angry meteors, unleashing a concentrated barrage of fire upon the tanker's deck!

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Arriving are the "Mark 17 Heartbreaker," the "Mark 19 Tiger," the "Mark 20 Python," and Tony's latest development—the Mark 24 Tank! These are eighteen armored vehicles in total.

"Put it on, Rhodes!" Tony pointed to the black Mark XII suit next to him.

"Finally here!" Rhodes rolled over, and the armor quickly fused with his body.

Tony was immediately enveloped by the "tank".

"OK, grills, folks!" Tony's visor snapped shut, his palm cannon aimed at the Extremis soldiers. "Party time!"

However, reality is far crueler than imagined.

Tony didn't experience the crazy upgrades that followed the Battle of New York. Most of these dozen or so suits are early models designed for conventional warfare.

The Extremis virus... is a bug.

"Bang!"

A soldier in dire straits grabbed the arm of the "Mark 22 heat rod" with his bare hands and melted it into molten iron with a temperature of 3,000 degrees Celsius!

"Da da da da da—!"

Wearing a Mark 12 armor, Rhodes unleashed a barrage of fire from his arm-mounted Vulcan cannon, and the resulting hail of bullets did indeed force a Desperate soldier to retreat repeatedly. But the guy just roared and charged forward through the hail of bullets!