The sky trembled.
Crimson lightning laced through the clouds as the Iron Tyrant descended—not flying, but falling—like a judgment passed by the heavens. His armor hissed steam as it landed in a crouch, cracking the street beneath with a metallic boom.
He stood.
Seven feet tall. Armor darker than obsidian.
Where Tony Stark's Iron Man was a symbol of protection and progress, this creature wore his legacy like a shroud. Its arc reactor pulsed a deep red, like a beating heart drenched in vengeance. The faceplate was etched, twisted into a sneer—his own face, modified, cold, monstrous.
Tony stood frozen.
He was staring at himself.
But not the self he remembered. This was a version that had never stopped building, never stopped controlling, never stopped surviving. This Iron Man didn't make the sacrifice play.
This Iron Man took the world instead.
"Stark," the Iron Tyrant said, his voice metallic but disturbingly familiar. "You should've stayed dead."
Pepper stepped forward, her armor humming defensively. "That's not you, Tony. That's just… a ghost."
The Tyrant tilted his head. "Ghosts don't build empires."
Before anyone could move, he raised a hand—and a pulse wave exploded from his palm.
Buildings shattered.
The rebel squad was thrown into the air.
Pepper was slammed into a wall, her HUD cracking on impact.
Tony's instincts kicked in. He lunged toward her, catching her mid-fall, skidding across the pavement as debris rained from above. Alarms shrieked in his suit. Power reserves critical.
"Get to cover!" he yelled.
The rebel leader, bleeding from his shoulder, pulled himself toward a hidden passage between two broken structures. "Move, now! He won't let you breathe if you stay in the open!"
Pepper coughed, smoke rising from her chestplate. "Tony, we're outgunned."
But Tony wasn't listening. His eyes were locked on the Tyrant.
Locked on himself.
He stood tall, chest rising and falling, heart roaring in his ears. "What the hell happened to you?"
The Tyrant took a step forward.
"You happened," he said. "You chose death over accountability. You left the world broken. I fixed it."
"You turned it into a cage!"
"I turned it into order!"
The Tyrant slammed both fists into the ground. A shockwave of magnetic force shot out—cars twisted, poles crumpled, energy flickered as Tony and Pepper's suits began failing under the pulse.
The Tyrant wasn't just armored.He was wired into the entire city.
The city was his body.
Tony fell to his knees, suit sparking.
The Tyrant stepped closer.
"I'm not here to kill you," he said softly. "I'm here to show you what the world really needed."
Behind him, a massive hologram erupted into the sky.
A vision of Earth—under his rule. Peaceful, silent, controlled. No war. No chaos.
A price paid in freedom.
"This is the future you could've given them," he said.
Tony clenched his jaw. "Then why does it feel like a tomb?"
Suddenly—
A loud crack pierced the air.
A sniper shot. It whizzed past the Tyrant and struck his shoulder joint, temporarily disabling one arm. The Tyrant staggered.
From the rooftops, a hooded figure leapt down—agile, cloaked in quantum stealth.
Pepper gasped. "Who—?"
The figure landed between Tony and the Tyrant. And then removed her mask.
It was Morgan.
But not the Morgan they knew.
This was a future version of her.
Battle-scarred. Hardened. Her eyes a mirror of her father's.
"I'm not letting you die again," she said.
Tony's voice cracked. "Morgan…?"
The Iron Tyrant's reactor glowed brighter—pulsing like a storm.
"You brought my daughter into this?" he growled.
Morgan narrowed her eyes. "No. I brought your reckoning."
The sky split as the first missile launched from orbit—heading straight for the Tyrant's citadel.
And the countdown had begun.