Number One said he was leaving, but suddenly twisted around and kicked Arno in the waist, sending him flying with a controlled, gentle force. He then shot backward himself. A small black hole had suddenly appeared in the laboratory where the Signal Transmitter had been, relentlessly shredding and swallowing everything around it.
Dozens of domains away, the Iron Lord climbed to his feet. His expression darkened as he raised one hand high, then clenched it into a fist. Every cackling warrior under his command froze as though someone had pressed pause. Tens of thousands of people held their final poses without moving. The sight was deeply eerie.
Tony bent over, coughed twice, and spat out a mouthful of green saliva, expelling every trace of the Joker Virus infecting him.
"Leaving whenever you please? That's hardly polite, Brad!"
Number One turned and gently tossed the child in his arms and Carol to Arno, who caught them. Then he watched the small black hole, which had begun contracting again, with a solemn expression.
Like a bubble bursting in midair, the black hole popped amid a scattering of energy particles. A suit of classic red-and-gold Battle Armor appeared at its center.
At a glance, the Battle Armor looked no different from the close-fitting armor worn by the old era's Iron Man. The only difference was the absence of an Arc Reactor in its chest. In its place sat a Plasma Orb that expanded and contracted with the rhythm of breathing.
The iconic rectangular lenses on the iron faceplate glowed faintly. Electronically transmitted through the Battle Armor, the Iron Lord's voice became slightly distorted, acquiring a shrill edge of electromagnetic interference.
"Brad. A rat everyone wants dead, hiding in some unknown universe to cling to life. How dare you come back?"
"You really know