Vision suddenly accelerated, his body streaking like a meteor as he arrived before Stark in the blink of an eye.
He knew Stark well—or at least, he believed he did.
With sufficient understanding and the ability to analyze calmly, Vision had devised a series of battle plans targeting Stark's strengths and weaknesses.
First, he would use conversation to distract him, then engage in close combat. That was Vision's plan.
Simple and efficient.
He raised his arm, his massive fist smashing toward Stark's head like a battering ram.
The move was fast and vicious, backed by precise calculations. In an instant, it cut off all of Stark's escape routes, forcing him into close-quarters combat.
Hah?! Stark sneered inside his armor. The old him really would have been put at a disadvantage by this, but after gaining all the combat memories of the Lord of Winterfell, he was no longer such a weakling.
He was the King of the North, the master of the Iron Throne!
The armor was powerful, sure, but it still required its operator's cooperation. A lack of corresponding hand-to-hand combat experience had always been Stark's weakness.
The memories from his dreams, combined with his recent grueling training and battles on the battlefield, had greatly compensated for that weakness. He still was not Captain America's match, but the gap had narrowed considerably.
The liquid nanite shield on his left hand rapidly shrank from a giant shield to a round shield. After becoming acquainted with Black Panther, Stark had added an appropriate amount of Vibranium to his armor.
This had not been prepared for Vision at all. Stark had analyzed Daisy's records from the Battle of New York and her several subsequent appearances. The defensive capabilities of his current armor had all been designed with Daisy as the benchmark, developed