[CENTER][COLOR=28a628][B]S T A R K  I N D U S T R I E S  P R E S E N T S . . .[/B][/COLOR][h1][color=de2c18][b]T H E  V I S I O N[/b][/color][/h1][hr]
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 > INITIATING DIRTY HARRY PROTOCOL
 > THE TIME IS: 1200 HOURS  
 > SENDING REACH FOR THE SKY REQUEST TO EXECUTABLE: PUNK...
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An idea that had taken firm root in Victor’s consciousness for a variety of reasons—chief among them being his status as an android and the cavalcade of professional nerds serving as his only real company—was the omnipresent of mathematics. Everything in the world was a floating value. Every action could be explained and predicted through equations, every trait or characteristic capable of being expressed as a single value. Approaching the world this way had an interesting effect—every situation was, in some way, solvable. Arithmetically speaking. 

And solving was exactly what Victor was about to do. 

Victor’s brain ticked into overdrive. Literally, ticked—it was, after all, a series of microprocessors, which were ultimately a series of tiny little clocks, though “pulsed” would perhaps be a more accurate term. Once the idea entered his head, his body froze and the calculations began. Inspiration had struck thanks to Sue’s gambit—a gambit that was teeming with potential mathematical analysis. Though the ricochet of the bullets seemed random, it couldn’t be so—nothing was ever truly random. There was a way to predict their trajectory, to aim a bullet in a precise way so as to bounce it at the exact angle one wished for. 

With blistering efficiency, his calculations ticked over into the billions. Wind resistance, predicted movements, angles and triangles superimposing over thin air in his mind. He dredged through his memory banks to find what he needed: Recollections, photographic in precision, of the bullets bouncing off of Sue’s force fields.
That was it. This was his gambit. It all took place in a matter of milliseconds—the human superpower of intelligence. 

In an instant, he threw up both hands, his fingers alight with a brilliant blue energy.
[color=de2c18][i]"Draw!"[/i][/color]
Each finger let loose a blast, each aimed at a specific angle down to the decimal point. They appeared to rocket off aimlessly, missing their targets entirely and whizzing through the air towards nothing.
But then the first one bounced. And as it shot through the air, and bounced again, the second one bounced, and then the third, and the fourth, and all of a sudden, there was a dazzling, split-second lightshow. It ended almost as soon as it had begun—and ten men, dotted across the battlefield, fell to the ground, electrified into submission. 

Victor brought a finger to his lips, and blew. 
Simple geometry. 

Now that they had fallen, it became clear why Victor had targeted those ten in specific. Down on the ground, they cleaved a clear path through the gang of goons straight to the tanker. Kicking off the ground, Victor shot up and straight forward, spinning down along the way he had opened. He manoeuvred his way up to the top, towards the “truck” part of “tanker truck”. He held his palms outstretched, fingers together, and pressed his pointers and thumbs against one another to create a triangular shape. Not knowing the amount of “Stark Industries is Illuminati” conspiracies he would help create, Victor peered through the triangle, lining it up with the trailer connector. 

His fingers pulsed with that brilliant blue light once more, sparking down along his extremities to gather power in the centre of the triangle. It coalesced into a shining sphere, orbs of power sparking off and orbiting it like an atom. All at once, it released, and a powerful, focused beam of light shot forth, sparkling with iridescence and azure as it cleaved up along the connector. 

Clean in two—the tanker truck had become a tanker and a truck. With no time to waste, Victor moved quickly, hooking both arms underneath the tanker and kicking off the ground. His thrusters roared to life, giving him the extra boost he needed to lift the great steel tanker up into the air, casting its shadow over the battlefield. 
Victor paused. That sounded…Odd.

He jerked his arms back and forth, rattling the tanker as though he were trying to figure out what was inside a present. 

[color=de2c18]“Fascinating!”[/color] he yelled over the cacophonous rattling coming from within. [color=de2c18]“By the sound of what clearly cannot be fuel,[i]both[/i] sides appear to be worthy of indictment! I didn't see that one coming.”[/color]


Still, he wasn’t about to go cutting it open just yet. No doubt if he did so, the instigators of this firefight would take the first chance they got to abscond with whatever was inside. 
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