While Tony Stark was still lost in his own adrenaline-fueled world, Ivan Vanko had already marched onto the racetrack. The lead drivers were suddenly forced to swerve frantically, desperately trying to avoid the madman standing in the middle of the tarmac.
Who in their right mind would walk directly onto an active Formula One track?
The disguised worker pressed a button on his chest. His orange jumpsuit burned away, revealing a crude, glowing mechanical harness. With a flick of his wrists, twin whips of pure plasma ignited, cleanly slicing a passing race car entirely in half.
"Now that is what I call a killer light show," Lucas chuckled from the sidelines, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.
A standard superhero would have immediately swooped down to stop the carnage. Lucas did not. He preferred to witness this iconic piece of history play out a little longer.
Moments later, Tony Stark's car came tearing around the bend. Ivan Vanko was clearly well-prepared. He knew exactly what color and model Tony was driving.
With a casual crack of his whip, Ivan obliterated the front of Tony's vehicle. The car flipped violently through the air, crashing onto the track in a heap of twisted metal. Tony was nearly killed on the spot.
Amidst the explosions and burning wreckage, Ivan Vanko began his slow, menacing walk toward the crashed car.
From his vantage point, Lucas noticed Tony's bodyguard, Happy Hogan, and his assistant, Pepper Potts, desperately rushing toward the track. They were carrying the portable Mark V armor suitcase.
Back on the track, Tony was inches away from death. In a split-second stroke of luck, he managed to scramble out of the wreckage, narrowly dodging a lethal strike.
But his attacker was still advancing, step by agonizing step.
Tony was still trying to process the chaos. He had absolutely no idea what had just happened or how he had managed to offend this lunatic. Logically speaking, it made no sense. He had never seen this guy in his life.
However, Tony accepted the reality almost immediately. This man was definitely one of his enemies. He knew perfectly well that his arrogant, toxic, and unfiltered mouth made him enemies wherever he went.
Having one or two heavily armed maniacs out for his blood was entirely reasonable.
"Hey, buddy. I don't think we've been properly introduced," Tony rambled, trying to buy time as Ivan approached. "Is this really necessary? You do realize this is highly illegal, right?"
"Tony Stark. Today is your dying day!" Ivan Vanko smiled, his face twisted in vicious satisfaction.
As long as Tony Stark died today, everything would be worth it. Ivan did not care if he was arrested, executed, or hunted down by Stark Industries. As long as he avenged his father, he would die without regrets.
"Russian?" Tony instantly recognized the heavy accent.
The problem was, he rarely dealt with Russians. As a core member of the American military-industrial complex, he was strictly forbidden from having deep ties with a quasi-hostile nation like Russia. Doing so would make his Pentagon backers incredibly nervous.
Since he never did business with them and had never even visited Russia, how on earth did he piss off this hulking brute?
"Die!" Ivan roared in fury.
He could see the confusion in Tony's eyes. Tony Stark didn't remember the Vanko family. In fact, he had probably never even known they existed. Howard Stark had protected his precious son far too well.
The thought made Ivan's blood boil even hotter. They were both geniuses. Ivan's father, Anton Vanko, had helped invent the Arc Reactor. Yet his father had been branded a traitor, deported to Russia, and left to die in absolute poverty.
And what about Ivan? His intellect easily rivaled Tony Stark's. But Tony got the best schools, the finest women, endless resources, and infinite wealth.
What did Ivan get? Even the crude harness he wore was scraped together from scavenged scraps.
The root of all this suffering was Howard Stark. Howard had framed his father to steal the glory. Now that Howard was dead, Ivan would make his son pay the price.
"Hi there. Looks like you could use some help, Mr. Stark!" a playful voice suddenly echoed from the sky.
"You? Thank God!" Tony reacted instantly upon hearing the familiar voice.
He didn't have time to figure out how Lucas had returned from Asgard. All that mattered was that he was here. The timing couldn't have been better.
"Standard rules apply," Lucas smiled, floating gracefully downward. "This intervention comes with a fee."
He was wearing his signature glasses, a magical disguise that flawlessly prevented anyone from recognizing his true civilian identity. It was absurd, but it worked perfectly.
"No problem! Ten million dollars. No, make it twenty million! Just take him down!" Tony shouted frantically. Compared to his own life, that amount of money was less than loose change.
"You got a deal," Lucas smirked. Say what you will about Tony Stark, but the man always paid his bills on time.
Lucas wouldn't charge an ordinary person for saving their life, but Tony was a different story. He was a walking gold mine. Shearing a little wool off a billionaire was practically a public service.
Despite being frustrated that Lucas always seemed to catch him at his most pathetic moments, Tony was overwhelmingly relieved to see him.
"Superman! It's Superman!"
"Oh my God, Superman is here in Monaco!"
"Holy crap, it really is him! The Asian street hero from the States!"
The spectating crowd instantly recognized Lucas. He was pretty hard to miss. He could fly, he wore glasses, and he was an Asian man wearing casual clothes in a warzone. It made perfect sense for him to show up and deliver justice.
Of course, the crowd had no idea he wasn't there for justice. He was just there to make a quick twenty million bucks.
"Damn you, Superman!" Ivan Vanko roared, realizing the famous vigilante was stepping in to protect his target.
Without hesitation, Ivan lashed out, bringing his crackling plasma whip crashing down toward Lucas's head.
In the next second, Lucas casually raised his hand and swatted the whip aside. The devastating electrical current, which even Tony's armor struggled to handle, couldn't even singe Lucas's skin. The metal-melting voltage failed to break his base defense.
Immediately after, Lucas exhaled sharply. A terrifying, localized hurricane erupted on the racetrack. While he hadn't yet mastered the ability to freeze his breath, the sheer concussive force of the gale was absolutely staggering.
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