"Jarvis?"
:Yes, sir?:
"The jet just talked."
:That would be correct, sir.:
"Is there anyone /inside/ the jet?"
:The scanning capabilities of the suit sugg-:
"Yes or no, Jarvis.:
:...no, sir. There is no one inside.:
"Okay. Just wanted to get that out of the way first. Divert seventy-two percent of power to pod thrusters, twenty percent to flight stabilizers, and eight percent to weaponry. No, wait - make it eighty twenty, forget the weapons for now. "
A year ago, Tony Stark would have laughed at anyone suggesting he'd be here right now - that was, above the clouds in his own personally-designed and constructed suit of armor, rolling with a speed to put any SU-30 to shame. To be fair, the F-22 behind him was doing a pretty damn good job, too - a job that /shouldn't/ be possible for either its design or its pilot.
But hey. Apparently if a millionare playboy could turn into an armored Superman, Raptors could appear out of nowhere and prompt half the city to panic.
Well. One Raptor.
One Raptor that was being hell to catch up with. "Let's go supersonic, Jarvis."
:Yes, sir.:
Immediately, the suit thrust forwards with a speed that would be fatal if a single part of the pressurization failed. It didn't, and Tony Stark got his first look at the jet.
It seemed harmless enough; well, as harmless as an F-22 could be. But instinct warned him that it was far, far more than met the eye - and his scanners supported it. What the hell is it? he wondered to himself, rolling over to see the other side. Up close, it wasn't hard at all to tell that there was, in fact, no pilot. No one was driving the damn jet and it was bringing him on a wild goose chase that was impossible for any computer to design. If it wasn't for the fact that he had a confirmation on the lack of pilot, Tony would have thought it some sort of Air Force prodigy. Or not ev-oh shit it just pulled up ninety degrees. Tony leaned back to climb witih it, but balked as it spoke again.
\\So, you think you're something, human?\\
"Jarvis, what the hell was tha-"
:It appears to have accessed your communications, sir.: A display pulled up confirming that.
"Unknown caller my ass, give me something I can work with!"
\\Try a load of -this-!\\
Another display popped up, helpfully pointing out the pair of missiles heading for him. "SHIT!" He made a quick turn, but they continued following him. Well, it was to be expected. He still remembered his first encounter with F-22s (this was not a normal F-22 F-22s did not talk) and how he had narrowly escaped getting blown up /then/.
"FLARES!" The magnesium erupted from its flaps as he continued shooting forwards. Behind him, he heard a pair of explosions.
:Missiles taken care of, sir.:
Tony shook his head, catching sight of the F-22 rolling from above. They damn well better be. A sudden thought struck him. "You said there's no one inside?"
:No, sir. There is, however, a strange energy sou-:
"I didn't ask about strange energy sources, I asked about people."
:Then no, sir. There is no recognizable form of life aboard.:
The phrasing prickled at the back of Tony's neck, but this wasn't the time discuss specifics. The fact was, there was now nothing whatsoever keeping him from fighting back. And it was high time to turn the battle. "Take power from thrusters and stabilizers; give me...thirty-three percent weaponry."
:Sir, that will give you a decrease in manueverability of approximatel-:
"I know how much it'll decrease, now do it!"
He felt, rather than saw the change immediately. The Raptor was just ahead of him (he could have /sworn/ it was /laughing/ at him), and he gritted his teeth. This next part would be tricky.
Instinct, again, warned him - or maybe it was something else. Either way, when the next pair of missiles were fired, this time accompanied by an inhuman laugh, he was ready for them. He banked, throwing out his hands towards the missiles and firing off a pair of pulses. His aim was off; he only hit one, but it was enough. The missile's explosion range caught the other, taking /that/ one up in an explosive fireball as well, and he promptly shot through the haze.
The F-22 was on the other side, diving. "Ninety to thrusters!" he barked, letting gravity lend its aid. The next moment, he had struck the jet squarely in the upper fuselage. It...snarled. And then it changed.
Tony wasn't sure what happened, really. One moment he was aiming for a wing, another pulse about to fire - the next he was looking up at a backflipping F-22, trying to recover his equilibrium. Only the F-22...wasn't an F-22 anymore. It was something entirely different. "JARVIS!"
:Yes, sir?:
"I'D LIKE AN EXPLAINATION, PLEASE!"
:I have none, sir.:
The suddenly changed jet looked down at him - it had a recognizable set of arms and legs now, in addition to a head with a face that was /leering/ at him - before following him in the dive. Tony felt fear - this isn't fun anymore - grip him as he turned, hoping desperately that he could somehow outmanuver this...this thing.
No. If anything, the jet was even /more/ manuverable like this. It laughed again, and Tony's fear was momentarily eclipsed by irritation. I'm reeeeeeeally getting tired of this guy.
The irritation - and fear - were then both eclipsed by pain. The display crackled as his flight systems sputtered, and his flight turned into more of a plunge. Tony looked down at himself, only belatedly realizing that it wouldn't do much good in realizing what had happened. It did far less than that as it threw him into an uncontrolled, spiraling fall, his left leg screaming in protest.
"Jarvis!"
:The suit has been breached, sir.:
"That's impossible, this is gold titanium, how the hell can it be breached by - what the hell was that, a gatling gun?"
The display flickered, then lit back up. Specifically, one highlighting what looked like a metal slug. :These are the rounds that were fired - they appear to have not only breached core systems but parts of your body as well.: Another readout, showing a schematic of the suit and his body inside it. Numerous highlights offered insight as to where the breaches Jarvis mentioned were...which could explain the pain in his leg. And perhaps why he was feeling so light-headed, though maybe that could be attributed to the fact that he was feeling like he was on an amusement park ride gone haywire.
"Can you get power back to thrusters?" he asked, trying hard to stay calm.
Jarvis's response made it very hard to. :Critical damage has been dealt, sir. There is no way of reconnecting the fuel lines.:
Oh, goody, I'm going to die.
"Hey, Jarvis."
:Yes, sir?:
"Remind me never to eat Thai food again.:
:Sir?:
"I mean it. I mean, if it gives me hallucinations like this, it's really not worth it."
:You are not hallucinating, sir.:
"I know. Pretending I am makes me feel better about this whole going-to-die thing, though."
:Scanners are picking up some unusual energy sources from the ground, sir.:
"For the last time, I don't care about 'unusual energy so'-"
His lack of caring was cut off by the fact that it felt like he just hit the ground. No, wait, cancel that - the ground wasn't that soft. Or not soft. It still hurt like hell, and multiple other parts of his body screamed along with his leg, but the fact that he was not a pancake was what confused him. Falling from - for lack of a better word, sky high - and hitting the ground should have reduced him and the suit into a non-functioning mess.
Instead, he was...being held? Suspended? This made no sense.
Through the pain, he stared at the scanners ahead. Rather, tried to - they weren't functioning. /None/ of the suit was functioning. He was left staring through the two eye holes, which really weren't meant for viewing without some sort of scanning equipment.
They were still able to give him a view of what looked like three or four...
"I told you I was hallucinating, Jarvis," he said weakly, before pain and blood loss took its toll. Tony Stark, the Iron Man, fainted.