Bang!
Tony fired a shot into the sky.
The flare traced an arc in the air, shooting up about twenty meters before slowly descending.
The bright red light was especially conspicuous in the nighttime desert, illuminating the faces of the two men on the ground clearly.
"Alright, just wait a few more minutes, and someone will come to pick us up," Tony said, casually tossing the flare gun aside.
A flare going off near a military base would surely prompt the U.S. forces to check via satellite, and once they spotted him, they'd immediately send a rescue team.
Tony looked at Yinsen. "Come to America with me, Yinsen. Bring your family over too."
He could tell that Yinsen had been holding back something he wanted to say.
Yinsen's eyes were somewhat complex. "My family... is already gone... In fact, Tony, I want to return to Iran, to do what I can to help more people in need."
The words Tony had just prepared suddenly stuck in his throat. He realized that the man who had saved his life had endured much greater suffering.
But that only made Tony more determined to bring Yinsen to America.
"Yinsen..." he began, his voice heavy with guilt and sorrow, "I didn't know... about your family. I'm so sorry."
Yinsen shook his head, indicating that Tony shouldn't worry about it.
Tony continued, "I can understand your desire to return to your homeland."
He could see that Yinsen had a clear sense of fatalism, wanting to return home to do something noble but potentially sacrificial.
After a pause, Tony added, "But Lyon was right earlier. This time, I'm going back to help more people."
"The contribution I can make to this world shouldn't just be creating things that explode."
He tapped his chest, where the arc reactor was, his gaze intense. "Yinsen, you can come with me. Together, we can better help those who have been harmed by violence, and eventually, we can change this world, make it better. We can try, right?"
Yinsen stared blankly at the arc reactor, which indeed represented technology capable of changing the world. He began to waver.
Boom!
Suddenly, the roaring sound of an engine came from afar, growing louder and louder.
A patrol plane was approaching from the distance.
"The signal flare was fired less than half a minute ago, and the rescue plane is already here?" Yinsen couldn't help but be amazed. "Their efficiency is really high!"
But then he watched as the plane flew overhead and continued into the distance.
"...It doesn't seem to be a rescue team. It looks like a light patrol aircraft. I guess they're chasing after Lyon. He must have been spotted by the base."
Tony stared at the departing jet, saying, "But its speed hasn't even reached supersonic. They won't catch up with Lyon."
"Let's wait a bit longer. Lyon's entrance was too flashy, and he drew all their attention."
"But next time, when I put on the MK suit, I'll definitely draw even more attention from those rednecks in the military."
Tony paced around a bit, continuing, "Of course, you'll need one too. You should have your own suit of armor."
"Then we can have a team, maybe call it... MK Squad? That doesn't sound quite right, maybe..."
"Tony, I don't think I sh—!?"
As Tony rambled and Yinsen tried saying something, the faint sound of engines became audible from the horizon.
It was a formation of three helicopters.
"Oh! Look, our rescue team is here!"
Both men, parched from their time in the desert, began jumping and waving their arms.
...
Meanwhile, as Tony had predicted, the patrol plane didn't catch up with Lyon.
After all, in half a minute, Lyon had covered enough distance to fly several laps.
By the time the patrol plane was halfway there, he had already flown out of Afghanistan with the Mark armor and blueprints.
However, unexpectedly, as Lyon entered California's airspace, he encountered another squadron of fighter jets intercepting him.
After retrieving Tony's prized possession from the collapsed cave, Lyon had flown to the thermosphere, the outer layer of Earth's atmosphere, above Afghanistan with the armor in tow.
He then accelerated to Mach 30.
In just twenty minutes, he had crossed half the globe and returned to North America.
As he descended above the western Pacific coast, he reduced his speed to low supersonic and flew into California.
Stark's mansion was located on the west coast of California, near Los Angeles.
He only needed to cross the coastal mountain range within California to reach it.
But because he had slowed down too much, yet not enough, his entry into the state was captured by an overhead satellite.
...
On the monitoring screens at a U.S. military base, a figure moving at nearly twice the speed of sound above the mountains caught the operator's attention.
Upon zooming in for a closer look, they were surprised to find it was a small flying unit.
Although, for some reason, the figure's image was blurred and unclear (due to the biological force field enveloping it).
However, it resembled a humanoid figure in flight.
The soldiers immediately reported the situation to their superiors.
"What is that? Establish communication with it and have it land for inspection! Whether it's from the CIA or the Navy, let's get it down here and take a look!" the commander ordered with a serious expression.
"Sir, there's no response to our radio signals!"
"Sir, the CIA and Navy just contacted us, asking if that flying object belongs to us and requesting that we submit any intel!"
"Us? Do we have something that small, flying at nearly twice the speed of sound, and with such long endurance?"
"Not at the moment, sir!"
"Damn it! Get the weapons research division on this, and call in Colonel Rhodes!"
"Colonel Rhodes is in Afghanistan searching for Tony Stark, sir!"
"Goddamn it! Then run a database comparison! Lock it with radar! Get satellite tracking! I want the clearest satellite images we can get!"
"Sir, reporting in! The database has no matching records! The target's cross-section is too small for radar to lock onto! Satellite images are blurred due to unknown interference! Sir, what should we do?"
"...What the Fuck? Can someone tell me what this thing that's appeared out of nowhere and is flying over our heads actually is?"
"I don't know, sir!"
"Damn it! Are there any high-altitude surveillance units in the West Coast mountain area? Deploy them and shoot that thing down!"
"Yes, sir!"
...
Lyon was originally flying towards Los Angeles, feeling somewhat bored.
Suddenly, his ears twitched, and he tilted his body, glancing upward.
He heard the roar of four engines veering off course, heading towards him.
"Did the satellite spot me?" Lyon guessed as he reduced his speed slightly to assess the situation. "It's probably because I wasn't flying fast enough, which made me detectable. What a hassle."
"Flying below the speed of sound is too slow, but flying at low supersonic speeds makes it easy for satellites to detect anomalies and immediately lock on."
"Maybe next time, I should consider maintaining a speed above ten Mach."
At that moment, he heard a voice again.
"Target locked!" a pilot shouted through the radio.
"Missile launchers are ready, awaiting final orders!"
The commander at the military base issued the command: "Aim! Fire! Shoot down that flying object for me!"
"Global Hawk, copy that!"
"AWACS, copy that!"
Four aircraft dove from high altitude, and although it was still challenging to close the distance with Lyon, their onboard missiles were capable of hitting the target.
"Fire!"
Missiles were launched one after another, rapidly accelerating to over Mach 5 within seconds, pursuing Lyon through the sky.
Lyon glanced back, his gaze piercing through the clouds to spot the missiles several kilometers away, trailing flames.
These were powerful weapons, capable of destroying any airborne vehicle. But to him now, they wouldn't even scratch an itch.
A sudden impulse struck Lyon—to stop and catch the missiles, then walk out of the ensuing fireball unscathed, stunning the U.S. military.
As the saying goes, having a body of steel and not showing off is like wearing a luxurious robe at night with no one to see it. LoL.
Showing off is a deep-seated desire ingrained in human genetics.
Abraham Maslow even placed the need to show off at the fourth level in his hierarchy of human needs. Once a person has eaten, drunk, and feels safe, with a certain level of social interaction, the natural next step is the urge to show off.
Lyon couldn't escape these worldly desires either.
But after some thought, he decided it was better to hold back for now.
Soon, Tony would return and likely create a new suit of armor to show off. In the movie, there was a scene where Tony's grandstanding failed, leading to him being bombed by U.S. military jets.
So, instead of showing off now, it would be more satisfying to wait until Tony was full of himself, only to be embarrassed by the military, and then make his entrance. The thrill would be far greater.
After all, showing off in front of a good friend brings the highest level of psychological satisfaction.
Just imagining Tony's reaction in that moment made Lyon smile.
Now that he had Superman-like abilities, he didn't feel the need to emulate someone like Homelander and make grand statements about how patriotic he is or who are the real heroes.
He just wanted to keep getting stronger and, in the process, do things that made him happy.
For example—showing off in front of Tony in ways that Tony could only dream of but could never achieve.
Thinking about this made Lyon even more excited.
Lyon glanced up at the missiles coming through the thick cloud layer above. With a single thought, his speed instantly surged to Mach 20, vanishing from the U.S. military's satellite lock.
"What the hell! The target disappeared!" one of the pilots exclaimed in shock.
"Report! The missiles didn't hit the target!"
"Target lost! Repeat, target lost! Suspected stealth capabilities!"
In the U.S. military base, the commanding officer was momentarily stunned. "What? That's impossible! This is absolutely impossible! Continue searching the entire area; we must locate the target!"
The command room immediately descended into chaos.
It was clear that for the foreseeable future, the entire Department of Defense would be on edge, haunted by paranoia and uncertainty.
_____