In the depths of a cave complex somewhere in Afghanistan's Kunar Province, Tony Stark hunched over his workbench, bathed in the ghostly blue glow of the arc reactor embedded in his chest. The light casted strange shadows across the makeshift workshop - a prisoner's lab cobbled together from desperation and genius. Three months of captivity had left their mark on the normally polished billionaire. His expensive suit had long since been replaced by stained workman's clothes, his trademark goatee grown into a wild and unkempt full beard. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, testament to nights spent working and planning rather than sleeping.
But his hands - those remained steady. The same hands that had once assembled circuit boards at age four now manipulated components with surgical precision, each movement deliberate and focused. The cave air hung thick with metal dust and the acrid tang of welding, while water dripped somewhere in the darkness, marking time like nature's own metronome.
"Pass me the coupling mechanism," Tony murmured to Yinsen, not looking up from his work. "The one we salvaged from the missile housing."
Yinsen handed him the component, his movements careful and measured. The Yale-educated surgeon had saved Tony's life twice now - first with the electromagnetic surgery that kept shrapnel from his heart, and then by teaching him how to survive in this cave of horrors. His calm presence had become Tony's anchor in their shared captivity.
"The mineral's energy signature is fluctuating again," Yinsen observed, glancing at their crude monitoring equipment. The green stones they'd been provided as a power source pulsed with an otherworldly glow, casting sickly emerald highlights across their workspace. "Every time they bring in new samples, the radiation patterns shift."
"Yeah, I noticed that." Tony carefully connected another wire to the mineral-enhanced power core. "Whatever this stuff is, it's not from around here. The energy readings are like nothing I've ever seen - and trust me, I've seen a lot."
Security cameras tracked their every move from the corners, their red lights blinking like malevolent eyes. Tony had mapped their blind spots during his first week of captivity, knowledge that would soon prove crucial to their escape. But for now, he maintained the facade of the cooperative prisoner, just another weapon-maker following orders.
"They're getting impatient," Yinsen warned, his voice barely above a whisper as he soldered another connection in place. "Raza spent three hours watching the security feeds yesterday. He suspects we're not really building his missile."
"Let him suspect," Tony replied, making minute adjustments to the power core's housing. The green mineral fragments - what their guards had started calling 'kryptonite' after Superman's televised interview - pulsed with that strange energy that still made him uneasy. Every time he handled them, his instruments recorded impossible readings, energy signatures that defied known physics. "As long as he doesn't figure out what we're actually building."
The arc reactor in his chest hummed steadily - his new heart, built from scraps and inspiration. But the larger version taking shape on his workbench represented something more: hope, redemption, a way out. The suit's components lay scattered around them, disguised as missile parts. To untrained eyes, they might look like pieces of the Jericho missile Raza had demanded. But soon they would come together as something else entirely.
"These stones," Yinsen mused, carefully adjusting their power monitoring equipment. "The men talk about them constantly now. They believe they're connected to Superman - fragments of his lost world." He glanced at Tony. "The timing is... interesting."
"Everything about this is interesting," Tony muttered, remembering the strange green glow they'd spotted in the mountains weeks before his convoy was attacked. "A mysterious mineral with impossible energy readings shows up in terrorist hands right when a superpowered alien goes public? That's one hell of a coincidence."
Tony then paused, hearing footsteps approaching through the cave complex. Three sets of boots, moving with military precision. His hands moved automatically to cover the more suspicious components as the observation slot in their cell door scraped open. Harsh voices barked commands in Arabic, then the heavy door swung wide.
Raza entered, flanked by armed guards. His face was handsome in a severe way, carrying the bearing of someone used to absolute authority. Behind that cultured facade lay a calculating intelligence that made him far more dangerous than a common warlord.
"The bow and arrow," Raza began, running his fingers over the partially assembled components, "was once the pinnacle of weapons technology." He picked up one of the green mineral fragments, studying how it caught the light. "It allowed the great Genghis Khan to rule from the Pacific to the Ukraine. An empire twice the size of Alexander the Great and five times the size of the Roman Empire."
He set the stone down, moving to inspect their workbench. "But today, whoever holds the latest Stark weapons rules these lands." His eyes fixed on Tony. "And soon, it will be my turn."
Raza picked up their technical drawings, studying what appeared to be missile guidance systems but were actually armor joint mechanisms. His gaze lingered on the power core schematics where they'd integrated the mysterious green stones.
He stepped closer to Tony, reaching out to pull aside the worn fabric of his shirt. The arc reactor's blue glow contrasted sharply with the green pulse of the minerals on their workbench. "The bow and arrow gave way to gunpowder weapons," Raza mused, studying the device in Tony's chest. "Just as gunpowder weapons now give way to Stark missiles. But this..." he tapped the reactor's housing gently, "this suggests you're building something far more interesting than missiles."
"Just a battery," Tony said carefully, the lie well-practiced after months of inspections. "For the shrapnel damage. Yinsen's idea - crude, but it keeps me working."
Raza turned to Yinsen, speaking rapid-fire Urdu. "Tell me how the work progresses."
"The integration of the mineral power source is complex," Yinsen replied in the same language, his tone respectful but firm. "The energy signatures are unlike anything in modern science. We must calibrate each component precisely."
"Three months," Raza switched to Arabic. "Three months you've had to build my missile. And yet I see no missile."
"The Jericho is intricate," Yinsen responded, also in Arabic. "Each system must be perfectly aligned, especially with these new power sources. One mistake could-"
"You think I'm a fool?" Raza cut him off, switching back to English as his hand shot out to grab Yinsen's throat. "You think I don't see what's happening here?"
The guards raised their weapons as Tony took an instinctive step forward. Raza dragged Yinsen to a nearby anvil, forcing his head down against the metal surface. He reached for a brazier, pulling out tongs that gripped a glowing coal.
"Open your mouth," Raza ordered, bringing the coal closer to Yinsen's face. The heat cast orange reflections in his cold eyes.
"What do you want?" Tony demanded, heart pounding as he watched his friend's predicament. The arc reactor's hum seemed to grow louder with his rising pulse.
"The truth," Raza said coldly, the burning coal casting orange reflections in his eyes as he held it closer to Yinsen's face. The doctor remained silent, head pressed against the anvil by one of the guards.
Tony stepped forward, hands raised as the guards immediately trained their weapons on him. "A delivery date? You want a delivery date?" He met Raza's gaze steadily despite the guns pointed at his chest. "I can do that."
Raza studied him carefully, coal still suspended inches from Yinsen's face. "When?"
"Tomorrow," Tony said firmly. "Tomorrow morning. First thing."
"You're certain of this?" The coal moved a fraction closer to Yinsen.
Tony gestured to their workbench, where the green mineral fragments pulsed with their otherworldly glow. "The power core is almost stabilized. The guidance systems are aligned. Tomorrow morning, you'll have your Jericho."
Raza was silent for a long moment, eyes moving between Tony and the strange green stones they'd been using as a power source. Finally, he lowered the tongs.
"I need him," Tony added quickly. "Good assistant."
"Tomorrow then." Raza released his grip on Yinsen, who remained admirably composed despite gasping for air. "But remember, Stark - my patience is not unlimited." He threw the tongs aside with deliberate force. "Tomorrow morning, you will show me everything. The missile, these power sources, all of it." His eyes lingered on the arc reactor glowing in Tony's chest. "No more delays."
The cell door clanged shut behind them, its echo mixing with the retreating footsteps. As soon as they were alone, Tony and Yinsen sprang into action. There was no more time for careful preparation or testing - everything had to happen tonight.
Tony stripped down to his green vest, the arc reactor's blue glow contrasting with the sickly green pulse of the mineral fragments they'd integrated into the suit's power core. The cave air grew thick with the smell of hot metal as he hammered the final armor plates into shape, each strike echoing off the stone walls.
The facial plate emerged from its water bath with a hiss of steam, crude but functional. Tony laid it carefully on the workbench where Yinsen was already preparing the electrical connections, his surgeon's hands precise as they wove the complex web of wires that would bring their creation to life.
"The mineral core's energy signature is still fluctuating," Yinsen reported quietly as Tony began wrapping protective tape around his hands. "But it seems to be synchronizing with the arc reactor's output."
"It'll hold," Tony replied, though whether he was trying to convince Yinsen or himself wasn't clear. "The stones want to work with the reactor - you can feel it, right? Like they're reaching for each other."
Yinsen nodded as he activated the chest piece, watching indicator lights flicker to life. "Ready for the initial test?"
Tony stepped into position as Yinsen helped him don the first pieces - jacket, gloves, the vital throat armor that would protect his most vulnerable areas. The chest piece came last, its weight settling onto his shoulders like destiny itself.
"Can you move?" Yinsen asked, checking connection points. "The mineral core might affect the joint servos."
Tony flexed his arms, testing the range of motion. "So far so good. Let's go over the plan one more time."
As Yinsen continued assembling components, Tony recited their escape route from memory: "Initial power-up takes 6 minutes. I need to clear checkpoint one by 3:30, checkpoint two by 5:45. The mineral core should give us enough boost to clear the blast radius when we - Yinsen?"
The doctor had paused, his expression troubled. "I'm calculating the power draw from the initialization sequence. With these stones amplifying everything..."
"It'll work," Tony said, connecting another wire to the power core. The green stones they'd been given pulsed brighter, making their jerry-rigged instruments go haywire. "Look, we've tested everything. The numbers work."
"Tested separately," Yinsen reminded him, frowning at their monitoring equipment. "But together?" He gestured at the stones. "We don't even know what these really are, Tony. The energy readings make no sense."
Tony wasn't listening. He was too focused on the final connections, trying to ignore how the stones' glow seemed to intensify whenever they got near the arc reactor. "As long as it gets us out of here, I don't care if it runs on magic."
In the monitoring room, Raza leaned towards the screens, something catching his attention. "Where's Stark?"
One of his men rewound the footage. "He was just here, working at the bench..."
"Find him," Raza snapped. "Now!"
His men scrambled to comply, some grabbing radios while others headed for the door. Raza stayed glued to the monitors, watching Yinsen's movements carefully. Something was wrong.
The response team moved fast, their footsteps echoing through the tunnels. The observation slot scraped open.
"Hol van Stark?" a guard shouted in Hungarian. "Azonnal mutasd meg magad!"
"What are they saying?" Tony whispered from inside the partially assembled suit.
"I don't speak Hungarian," Yinsen admitted, still working on the connections.
"Well say something back!"
"They're asking for you..."
Yinsen straightened up and called out hesitantly: "Nem probléma, minden rendben!"
The guards spoke quickly to each other, then the door's lock clanked.
"Whatever you just said," Tony muttered, "I don't think it helped."
The door burst open - and their trap went off. The explosion rocked the cave, sending debris and smoke everywhere. The blast was stronger than they'd expected, the strange stones apparently amplifying the force.
In the monitoring room, Raza's composure finally cracked. "Send everyone. Find them!"
Tony peered through the smoke. "How bad?"
"Oh my goodness," Yinsen said, taking in the destruction. Two guards were dead, others wounded. The doorway had partially collapsed. "It worked all right."
"That's what I do," Tony said grimly. "Now comes the hard part. Start the power sequence."
Yinsen hurried to their computer, the ancient machine protesting as he booted it up. The screen flickered to life, casting a sickly green glow.
"Tell me what to do," he said urgently.
"Function 11," Tony said, trying to stay still in the heavy suit. "You should see a progress bar."
"It's up."
"Control-I, then I and Enter together."
The progress bar appeared, moving painfully slow. They could hear shouts getting closer.
"Get back here and button me up," Tony ordered.
Yinsen worked quickly on the suit's fastenings, but the sounds of pursuit were getting louder - boots on stone, voices shouting in multiple languages.
"Make sure the checkpoints are clear before you follow me out," Tony said as the progress bar hit 45%. Another explosion shook the walls. Time was running out.
Yinsen's hands stilled for a moment. "We need more time," he said quietly.
"Stick to the plan!"
"I'm going to buy you some time." Yinsen grabbed a fallen guard's weapon before Tony could stop him.
"Stick to the plan!" Tony shouted again, but Yinsen was already running. "STICK TO THE PLAN!"
The sound of gunfire echoed through the caves as Yinsen charged forward, firing wildly to draw attention away from their cell. Tony could only watch helplessly, still trapped by the agonizingly slow boot sequence, cursing every lost second.
The progress bar sat frozen at 65%. Tony kept glancing between the screen and door, every second feeling like an hour. The green stones they'd used pulsed faster, making the arc reactor in his chest hum at a higher pitch. Blue and green light danced across the cave walls as the two power sources interacted.
"Come on, come on," Tony muttered through gritted teeth. More gunfire echoed from somewhere in the complex, then nothing but silence. His heart nearly stopped until finally - finally - the progress bar hit 100%.
The cave's lights dimmed suddenly. Three guards entered the cell, stepping carefully over the bodies of their comrades killed in the explosion. Debris and twisted metal littered the floor, smoke still hanging in the air.
"Allah help us," one guard whispered in Arabic, seeing the carnage. "What happened here?"
"Careful," another warned in Urdu, raising his rifle. "Something's not right."
The third guard moved deeper into the shadows. "Stark! Show yourself!" His voice echoed off the stone walls.
They swept their weapons back and forth, trying to pierce the darkness. The only light came from scattered emergency bulbs and an odd blue-green glow they couldn't quite place.
"Check the workbench," the first guard ordered in Arabic. "He has to be here somewhere."
As they spread out, none of them noticed the figure standing motionless in the darkest corner. Tony flexed his gloved hand slowly, the leather of the welding glove creaking. The sound made one guard turn.
The man's eyes went wide as he found himself staring into the glowing eyes of what looked like a metal demon. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but it was too late.
The other guards opened fire immediately, their bullets filling the air. The muzzle flashes lit up the darkness in strobing bursts, revealing glimpses of something massive moving through the shadows. Their shots pinged harmlessly off metal plates as a hulking figure emerged into view. The guards stopped firing, frozen in shock as they took in the sight of Tony Stark encased in crude metal armor.
Bullets sparked harmlessly off the crude steel plates as the guards resumed firing. Tony's first punch sent a guard flying, the hydraulically-enhanced strength crushing the man's rifle like paper. The remaining guards finally got a clear look at the suit - a towering mass of riveted metal plates and exposed joints, built from missile casings and scrap metal. Its dull gray surface was a patchwork of welded seams and industrial pistons, with the arc reactor's blue glow mixing with the green light of the mineral core in its chest. Steam hissed from the joints as Tony moved, the makeshift hydraulics powering each thunderous step."
Tony walked forward steadily as the men screamed in Arabic and Urdu. His metal boots clanked against the stone floor with each step. The guards' bullets might as well have been raindrops for all the good they did. He knocked them aside effortlessly, the suit's strength sending grown men flying like rag dolls.
The surviving guards broke and ran. Tony followed, his heavy footsteps echoing through the tunnel. They slammed a heavy metal door between themselves and the armored figure pursuing them. The sound of Tony's fist pounding against the door made them back away. Three massive booms shook the metal, then silence.
The guards exchanged nervous looks in the quiet. Then the door burst inward off its hinges. Some fled immediately while others raised their weapons and charged forward. Tony swung at the nearest attacker, but the motion went wide. His arm punched straight into the cave wall, getting stuck in the stone.
As Tony struggled to free himself, one of the braver guards took careful aim at his exposed head. He pulled the trigger - only to have his own bullet bounce off the metal helmet and strike him between the eyes. He dropped without a sound.
Tony finally wrenched his arm free, leaving a gaping hole in the rock wall. He continued through the tunnels, following the sound of gunfire toward the cave entrance. The scene that greeted him made his blood run cold.
"YINSEN!"
His friend lay on the ground, clothes soaked with blood. But before Tony could reach him, Yinsen's eyes widened in alarm.
"Watch out!"
Raza stood at the cave mouth, rocket launcher braced against his shoulder. He fired just as Yinsen called out. Tony managed to lean back, the rocket missing him by inches and exploding against the cave wall behind him. Without hesitation, Tony triggered the missile release on his arm. The projectile struck just above Raza, bringing down a shower of rocks and debris onto the terrorist leader.
Finally, Tony reached Yinsen's side. He lifted his helmet to look at his friend properly. The sight of Yinsen's injuries told him everything he didn't want to know.
"Stark..." Yinsen could barely get the word out.
"Come on, we got to go." Tony tried to keep his voice steady. "Move for me, come on. We got a plan. We're gonna stick to it."
"This was always the plan, Stark." The gentle certainty in Yinsen's voice made Tony's chest tighten.
"Come on," Tony insisted, refusing to accept what he was seeing. "You're gonna go see your family. Get up."
Yinsen's next words shattered something inside him: "My family is dead. I'm going to see them now, Stark. It's okay."
Tony's face twitched as he fought to maintain control. This couldn't be happening. Not after everything they'd been through.
"I want this." Yinsen's voice grew fainter with each word. "I want this..."
Looking into his friend's peaceful expression, Tony felt understanding wash over him. A small, sad smile crossed his face as he accepted what he couldn't change.
"Thank you," he said softly, "for saving me."
Yinsen's final words came as barely more than a whisper: "Don't waste it. Don't waste your life."
Then he was gone, leaving Tony alone in the cave entrance. For a moment, the only sound was the settling of debris from where Raza had fallen. Then Tony's faceplate lowered with a metallic snap. He had a promise to keep.
Outside, Raza's men had formed a firing line, weapons trained on the cave mouth. The sound of hydraulics and grinding metal announced him before they saw him. When the armored figure emerged from the shadows, someone shouted in Arabic. Then the air erupted with gunfire.
The first shots came from the left – wild, panicked bursts that sparked harmlessly off the armor's chest plate. Others joined in, until the air was thick with bullets and cordite. The impacts rang through the metal frame like a twisted percussion section, each hit sending small shockwaves through the crude exoskeleton.
Tony stood perfectly still, letting them empty their magazines. The mineral core pulsed in sync with his arc reactor, flooding his suit with power. Every bullet that hit him was another reminder of what his weapons had become – tools for terrorists, for cowards who killed from caves.
When the last echoes of gunfire faded, he could hear them reloading, their movements frantic. Some were shouting about demons, about metal djinn. Tony smiled behind his faceplate, a cold expression that would have shocked anyone who knew him from his playboy days.
"My turn."
The flamethrower roared to life, spewing liquid fire across the camp. Men screamed as they burned, the sound mixing with the crackle of flames and the growing symphony of cooking-off ammunition. Every weapons crate, every Stark Industries missile, every piece of tech that had found its way into terrorist hands – all of it burned.
Tony moved through the camp like something out of a nightmare, his armor reflecting the flames. Hydraulic fluid leaked from bullet holes, making his movements jerky, mechanical. The mineral-enhanced power core thrummed against the arc reactor, two impossible energy sources pushing his cobbled-together suit beyond its limits.
A heavy machine gun opened up from his left flank. The larger rounds punched through weaker sections of armor, shredding servos and support structures. Tony's legs gave out and he crashed to one knee, but he kept the flamethrower going. Blood trickled down his face inside the helmet as more bullets found gaps in the plating.
"Come on, you piece of shit," he growled, reaching for the emergency thrust control they'd barely had time to test. The boot jets engaged with a scream of tortured metal, lifting him through his own inferno. For one perfect moment, he was flying – not gracefully, not with any real control, but flying all the same.
Then the thrusters died.
Tony had just enough time to think "well, this'll suck" before gravity reclaimed him with extreme prejudice. Pure instinct took over as the ground rushed up - too many crash landings in experimental planes had taught him how to fall. He twisted hard, managing to take the impact across his back instead of his skull. The landing drove the air from his lungs and sent lightning bolts of pain through every nerve.
His armor - three months of desperate work and Yinsen's sacrifice - shattered like glass. Pieces of metal sprayed across the sand in a twisted constellation, each fragment catching the morning sun before disappearing beneath the dunes. The chest piece held together, at least - the arc reactor's housing had been over-engineered precisely for moments like this.
"Fuck," he hissed through clenched teeth, trying to assess the damage. "Shit, shit, shit." His hands shook as he reached for the mangled helmet catches. Blood trickled into his eyes as he finally managed to pull off what remained of the helmet. The impact had split his forehead open, nothing serious but head wounds always bled like a bitch. Every breath felt like knives in his ribs.
He let out a strangled laugh that was half pain, half disbelief. "Still alive, you stubborn bastard," he muttered to himself. "Yinsen would be so proud." The name caught in his throat, fresh grief mixing with the physical pain.
"Okay Stark, up you go," he growled, rolling onto his side. "Son of a BITCH!" Sharp edges of broken armor dug into bruised flesh. Getting to his feet was an adventure in creative profanity. "Come on, come ON... motherfff- there we go."
The remaining pieces of armor fell away as he moved, leaving him in the torn clothes he'd worn underneath. "Some genius you are," he berated himself, stumbling on the shifting sand. "Couldn't build better stabilizers? Had to go with the minimum thrust calculation? No backup chute? Amateur hour, Stark."
His first steps were unsteady, like a newborn colt learning to walk. "Christ, which way is... fuck it, pick a direction." The sand shifted treacherously under his feet, and the world kept trying to tilt sideways. "Oh great, concussion. Perfect. Just perfect."
The desert sun was already becoming brutal. Sweat ran down his back, and his throat felt like sandpaper. "Water would be nice," he croaked. "Maybe a mojito. Definitely a mojito." His hands were shaking as he shrugged off what remained of his jacket - the same one he'd been wearing when his convoy was attacked, now stained with three months of cave grime and fresh blood.
Tony wrapped his jacket around his head, squinting against the relentless sun. "Jesus, Pepper would kill me if she saw this outfit." He tried to swallow but his throat felt like sandpaper. "Pepper..." The name caught in his throat. Three months. Three months without seeing her roll her eyes at his antics or hearing her heels clicking down the hallway.
Each step felt like wading through concrete. Behind him, smoke still rose from what used to be a terrorist camp, now just another scorched piece of Afghan desert. He allowed himself a grim smile. "Probably overdid it with the explosions. But damn if it wasn't worth seeing their faces when the suit walked out."
His brain latched onto technical problems, anything to distract from the thirst and pain. The suit. Always the suit. "Fucking boot jets," he muttered, stumbling over a dune. "Need actual stabilizers next time. And those hydraulics were garbage - my fault, should've reinforced them better." He paused, thinking about the mineral core's strange energy signature. "That radiation pattern though... mixed with the arc reactor... there's something there."
The sun climbed higher, baking the world into a shimmering wasteland. Tony forced himself to keep moving, talking just to hear something besides wind and his own labored breathing. Sometimes he found himself apologizing to Yinsen. "Could've made the escape system better. You deserved better, old friend."
His thoughts drifted to Pepper again. "Bet you're stress-organizing my entire office right now, Potts. Probably moved everything around. Just... just leave the cars alone, okay?"
The sound hit him like a physical thing - helicopter rotors cutting through the air. At first he thought he was hallucinating again, like the oasis he'd seen earlier. But there they were - two beautiful olive-drab Blackhawks cresting the dunes.
"Oh thank Christ," he breathed, legs finally giving out. He collapsed to his knees, raising his hand in a peace sign that took the last of his strength. Just holding his arm up felt like lifting a truck.
"Hey!" The word came out as a croak. The lead helicopter banked toward him, and the sight of those Air Force markings nearly broke him. "About fucking time," he whispered.
Then Rhodey was there, sprinting across the sand with that mix of military precision and raw concern that only his best friend could pull off. "How was the 'fun-vee'?"
Tony tried to laugh but it came out more like a sob. "You're late," he managed. "Traffic must've been murder." Then, quieter, "Next time, you ride with me, okay?"
They hugged right there in the sand, and Tony breathed in the familiar scent of standard-issue Air Force aftershave. This was real. He'd made it. This wasn't another fever dream in that cave.
"You look like shit," Rhodey said, voice rough with emotion.
"Yeah well," Tony mumbled into his shoulder, "you should see the other guys. What's left of them anyway."
The medics approached with practiced efficiency, their faces carefully blank as they assessed his condition. As they loaded him onto the stretcher, Rhodey kept talking, probably trying to keep him from passing out.
"The world's changed while you were gone, Tony. There's a guy flying around Metropolis now, saving people. They're calling him Superman."
"I know," Tony replied quietly, looking out at the desert falling away below them. The cave that had been his prison was now just a smoking ruin on the horizon. "I saw some of the footage they showed us. Trying to break our spirits, I think - showing us something powerful protecting the world while we were trapped." He touched the arc reactor hidden under his torn shirt. "Maybe it worked, just not the way they intended."
"What do you mean?"
"Superman shows up, demonstrates what real power looks like when it's used to help people instead of hurt them?" Tony's eyes held a new intensity, a purpose that went beyond revenge or escape. "Maybe it's time for more than one kind of hero. Maybe it's time to show the world that humanity can stand up with the gods."
Rhodey studied his friend with concern, clearly wondering if the desert sun had affected his mind. "Tony, you need medical attention, rest, time to recover-"
The helicopter banked toward Bagram Air Base, each turn sending fresh waves of pain through Tony's battered body. Through the window, the cave that had been his prison shrank to a smoking dot on the horizon. He kept his hand pressed against his chest, feeling the steady hum of the arc reactor beneath his torn shirt.
"Tony..." Rhodey started, clearly wanting to ask about the smoke rising from the mountains.
"Don't." Tony's voice was raw. "Not yet."
"The brass is going to want answers."
"I'm sure they do." Tony's eyes held a hardness Rhodey had never seen before. "Right after they explain how the Ten Rings got their hands on so many of my weapons."
Rhodey started to respond, then froze. A faint blue glow was visible through Tony's shirt. "What the hell is that?"
Tony instinctively covered the light with his hand, then grimaced at the movement. "It's... keeping me alive." He met his friend's concerned gaze. "The doctors are going to want to remove it. Don't let them."
"Tony, you need medical attention-"
"I need you to trust me." Tony pulled his shirt aside just enough to show the metal housing embedded in his chest. "There's shrapnel trying to work its way into my heart. This electromagnet is keeping it out. Remove it, I die."
Rhodey stared at the device, shock warring with military training. "Jesus Christ, Tony. You built that in a cave?"
"Had help." Tony's voice caught slightly. He looked away, swallowing hard. "Good man. He... he didn't make it."
The helicopter touched down before Rhodey could respond. A medical team rushed forward with a stretcher, but Tony waved them off. He made it halfway to the field hospital before his legs gave out.
"Incoming brass," Rhodey warned as they helped Tony onto an exam table. "They're going to want a debrief."
"Tell them I'm not talking until I get a secure workshop." Tony's fingers drummed against the arc reactor, a nervous tick he'd already developed. "And everything you have on those mineral samples from Afghanistan. The ones that showed up after that meteor shower in '80."
"The classified ones? Tony-"
"Everything changes now, Rhodey." Tony's eyes had that same intensity from the cave, when he'd watched Superman's rescues on their captors' TV. "The weapons, the company, all of it."
"Because of what happened?"
"Because it's time," Tony said simply. He thought of Yinsen's sacrifice, of choices made too late. "Time to build something that protects instead of destroys."