Tony tore through the compound.
Imprisonment fed his rage. Yinsen's condition sharpened it. He showed no mercy.
The Mark I made him terrifyingly strong. And bulletproof.
"There's just one thing that's annoying..." Morin thought as he watched. "His hands are protected-gel gloves under the gauntlets-but those two giant holes in his face, and nobody's aiming for them? That's absurd."
The suit was handmade.
Tony didn't have tempered glass. To see, he'd cut holes where the eyes should be.
One well-placed bullet through either opening would end him instantly.
Yet dozens of men were firing.
Not one aimed for the head.
Protagonist aura?
Or did Tony somehow learn Captain America's Taunt skill?
[You must attack the enemy with Taunt first.]
"Yinsen!"
After dealing with the last enemy and knocking out the bald leader with a small bomb, Tony turned.
Yinsen was slumped against a sandbag, barely breathing.
His shirt was riddled with holes. Blood soaked the white fabric red.
"We have to go," Tony said. "You still have to see your family, right?"
"My family is dead, Stark," Yinsen replied weakly. "I'm going to see them now. This is what I wanted..."
"...Thank you for saving my life," Tony said.
Earnest. Unfiltered.
"Then don't waste it."
Those were Yinsen's last words.
His eyes closed.
"..."
Tony pulled his faceplate down and walked away.
He didn't know what to say.
Yinsen's family had died because of his weapons.
And that same man had saved him.
It was a joke.
Tony glanced at the glowing circle in his chest.
That hole had also been made by a missile he'd designed.
Make life meaningful.
He walked out of the cave to finish the job.
-
Morin appeared beside Yinsen.
Magic flowed.
Time seemed to reverse.
Blood flowed back. Impurities were purged. Flesh pushed out bullets and fragments before knitting together.
"Ugh..."
Yinsen woke.
He saw Morin and froze, dazed. "Are you... an angel? Or God?"
"If you think God or angels are Asian," Morin said calmly, "I'm not. But I can save you."
"Thank you..." A tingling sensation spread through Yinsen's body. Explosions echoed outside. "Is Stark okay?"
"He's on a rampage out there," Morin said.
"Why did you save me?"
"I think you're a good man." Morin met his gaze. "I know you want to be with your family. That's your choice. But if you live, you can do more. You can help others. There are too many victims of war."
"...You're right."
Yinsen nodded.
-
Meanwhile, major organizations involved in the cyber war finally realized something was wrong.
They could fight.
But why were they fighting?
The enemy's tactics felt... familiar.
One organization sent a message.
"We are [X]. Why are you attacking us? How did this start?"
The others responded with confusion.
"???"
What kind of question was that?
Then they thought about it.
Wait. Why are we fighting?
How did this even start?
Official organizations began identifying themselves.
Underground groups sensed the shift and vanished immediately.
The cyber war wound down.
The aftermath did not.
Countless backdoors and trojans had been planted. Resources were drained. Data lost. Money burned.
The damage was immeasurable.
And the source of it all?
An "honest merchant" who sold the same video three times.
"What cyber war?" Rhodes said. "I don't care. As long as the video works."
He was already aboard a gunship.
After receiving the footage and cross-referencing satellite data, they launched immediately. Who knew when the terrorists would kill Tony?
"But sir," a soldier reported, "we received emails from a higher department and Stark Industries. They paid a million too. Same video."
"What the hell?!" Rhodes cursed. "He sold it three times? Wait-those people we tracked earlier?"
"It seems... yes, sir."
"Damn it." Rhodes rolled his eyes. "Pretend we don't know. I don't want to deal with them."
If all else failed, once Tony was safe, they'd make him pay.
At S.H.I.E.L.D., technicians reported to Hill, who briefed Fury.
Almost all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tech resources had been committed.
Fury knew the scale.
"Sold to three buyers," he muttered. "Swindler."
Then he thought about the ten million he was about to receive.
"...Clever."
-
Tony raised his arms.
Flamethrowers ignited from both gauntlets of the Mark I.
Not just for people.
For the crates.
Grenades. Ammo. Missiles.
Under extreme heat, the weapons cooked off.
The canyon became a furnace.
Seeing enough, Tony pulled the triggers.
A motion like pulling grenade pins.
Flames erupted from his boots.
The thrust launched him skyward.
Behind him, a thunderous chain of explosions roared.
Every terrorist in the canyon turned to ash.
The sound traveled far.
U.S. military sensors picked it up and relayed it to Rhodes.
The helicopters changed course.
-
"Woohoo! Hahaha!"
Tony laughed mid-air, exhilarated.
Then the problem appeared.
The Mark I was handmade.
The boot rockets sputtered. Struggled.
Then died.
Gravity politely reclaimed him.
"AAAAAAHHHHH!"
Tony traced a perfect arc.
He slammed into the desert sand.
The suit disintegrated on impact.
Its job was done.
"Lucky it was sand," a voice said. "Or you'd be dead."
"Yeah..." Tony replied instinctively.
Then he froze.
He whipped his head around. "Who are you?!"
"As you can see," Morin said, holding up a camera, "a photographer."
He turned the screen.
"I caught everything."
Tony stared at the footage.
He understood the concept.
But not how it was filmed from less than a yard away.
"Wasn't I... just flying?" he muttered.
"Yep." Morin nodded. "A photographer needs flight footage. So it's natural I can fly too, right?"
"...That makes sense-wait, no!" Tony shook his head. The crash haze finally cleared. He climbed out of the wreckage and looked Morin over. "Who are you? How did you get here?"
"I told you. Professional photographer. I capture interesting things," Morin said. "Film them. Sell them. Simple. Want to buy the footage? Top-tier quality."
The camera played Tony's scream as he plummeted.
Every flail.
Perfectly captured.
"As a photographer, I never edit my work," Morin added. "What I capture is perfect. But if you buy it, I can't stop you from editing it."
"How did you get here?" Tony rubbed his forehead.
"Traveling."
"What?" Tony stared. "Here?"
"I wanted to film modern weapons. The military wouldn't allow it, so I came here." Morin shrugged. "Hot desert, but with my tools, it's fine. What about you? Traveling too? And what's that glowing thing in your chest-"
"Stop." Tony raised a hand. "I'll talk first."
"Fair."
"Do you have a satellite phone?"
"Of course." Morin smiled. "No."
"You came alone without a sat-phone?!" Tony nearly exploded. He forced himself to breathe. "Your tools. You mentioned tools."
"I brought them."
"Oh." Tony sighed in relief. "So you were joking. Show me. I need to contact the outside world. And-wait. You don't recognize me?"
"Tony Stark," Morin said. "Obviously. Why else would I sell you the footage?"
"Give me the phone. I'll buy it for a million."
"I'd love to," Morin said. "But I don't have one."
"...What?"
"You said you brought tools!"
"I did. Hit a sandstorm earlier." Morin pointed at the camera. "This is all I have."
"You kept that instead of the phone?!" Tony felt something inside him snap.
"A camera is a photographer's soul," Morin said solemnly. "I would never abandon it."
"Great..."
Tony was exhausted.
Five minutes.
That was all it took to understand Morin.
A complete idiot who only cared about photography.
Exactly as planned.
Morin didn't want to show too much.
A photographer wasn't supposed to be an action hero.
He was supposed to be the third party.
Filming for profit.
Of course, Morin would still act when necessary.
Like saving Yinsen.
Teleporting him away.
Details could wait.
"I'm Morin. Professional photographer."
"I gathered that." Tony looked at the wreckage and gave up. He tore fabric to wrap his head.
"What are you doing?" Morin asked.
"Preventing heatstroke!" Tony snapped. "Do you want to get out of here? Then shut up and copy me!"
"Why walk?" Morin asked. "Why not take a helicopter?"
"What?"
"My camera has GPS. If my friends notice I'm out of touch, they'll come."
"..."
Tony stared at the sky.
Hope.
Despair.
Alternating at breakneck speed.
"Next time," Tony said slowly, "could you please say everything at once?"
"I was going to," Morin replied. "You kept interrupting me."
"..."
My fault?
"One more thing," Tony said after a pause. "You're sure they're coming?"
"Positive."
"And the battery?"
Tony was still paranoid.
Morin had officially traumatized him.