Deadpool stretched comfortably across the single iron bed.
Ever since Tony Stark had arrived, personal space had officially ceased to exist.
Before Tony came, Ethan had one bed.
After Tony came, Ethan still had one bed.
And now the three of them were technically sharing that one bed.
Would it really kill the Ten Rings to provide one extra mattress?
Deadpool had originally tried to squeeze in beside the unconscious Tony. It had seemed perfectly reasonable in his mind. But Ethan had firmly rejected the idea.
Even when Deadpool claimed tearfully that he was "just a little boy"—1.88 meters tall, 95 kilograms, and fewer than three hundred months removed from kindergarten—it didn't work.
The only result?
Ethan gave him the floor mat.
Deadpool stared at the cave ceiling.
"This is humiliation."
He yawned and slowly drifted off to sleep.
---
In the Monitoring Room
Inside another chamber of the cave complex, multiple surveillance screens flickered.
Raza stepped forward and stared at the image of Deadpool sleeping peacefully.
He licked his lips slowly and twisted the ring on his finger.
Basel, standing nearby, lowered his head respectfully.
"My Lord… should I eliminate him now?"
Raza shook his head.
"No."
His voice was calm, almost bored.
"We finally captured Tony Stark. I will not risk complications before he completes the Jericho missile."
They had lost many men during the ambush.
If Stark discovered they had killed the strange scarred man, he might refuse to cooperate out of fear.
Raza needed the missile.
After that—
Deadpool could die.
Basel hesitated.
"What if he was sent here to monitor us?"
Raza smiled faintly.
"This cave is equipped with Stark Industries' own signal jamming systems. No message leaves here."
Basel bowed slightly.
"Understood."
---
Back Inside the Cave
Deadpool was woken by Ethan shaking his shoulder.
"You're back?" Deadpool mumbled, rubbing imaginary drool from his mouth.
Tony Stark sat on the bed.
His face was dark and heavy.
The revelation he had just experienced outside had clearly shaken him.
Weapons stamped with Stark Industries' logos.
Used by terrorists.
Soldiers dying from his inventions.
Deadpool glanced at him knowingly.
White Lotus syndrome. Classic.
Ethan moved toward the small stove.
"Heat the canned food. I'll check Tony's wounds."
Deadpool gasped dramatically.
"Do I look like a devoted housewife?"
Tony snapped weakly from the bed.
"If my wife looked like you, I'd end myself."
Deadpool placed a hand over his chest.
"Don't worry, darling. If you die, I'll die with you. We'll be immortal lovers."
He still went to heat the cans.
Tony allowed Ethan to examine the device embedded in his chest.
"What's the point?" Tony muttered. "Even if I build their missile… even if they let me go… I have a week at most."
Deadpool stirred the pot lazily.
"That's with this battery."
Tony looked up.
Deadpool continued casually.
"If you get out of here—with better equipment, better doctors—you might live another hundred years."
Tony's breathing shifted slightly.
Hope.
Deadpool added casually, as if mentioning the weather:
"Seven days is just the battery's limit. Why not build a bigger battery?"
Tony froze.
A bigger battery.
His eyes slowly sharpened.
He thought of the weapons stockpile.
The materials.
The metal.
The energy source.
He wasn't just a weapons manufacturer.
He was an engineer.
A creator.
He looked at Deadpool with rare seriousness.
"I owe you an apology."
Deadpool straightened proudly.
"Oh?"
"You're still so ugly I question my will to live. But you're not entirely stupid."
"I AM NOT STUPID."
Ethan said nothing.
But his silence was loud.
Tony leaned forward.
"Paper. Pen. I need materials listed."
Deadpool walked over and placed the heated pot in front of him.
"Eat first. Genius runs on calories."
Tony's stomach growled loudly.
But when he looked inside the pot—
His expression twisted.
"What is this?"
"I don't know," Deadpool replied honestly. "But eventually it becomes part of you."
Without warning, he shoved a spoonful into Tony's mouth.
Tony yelped from the heat.
But hunger defeated pride.
He chewed and swallowed.
Deadpool leaned in eagerly.
"Well?"
Tony's face twisted.
"It tastes like dog shit."
Deadpool gasped.
"You've eaten dog shit?"
"No!"
"Then how do you know?"
"It's a figure of speech!"
"Explaining is concealing. Concealing is confirming."
Deadpool patted his shoulder kindly.
"Don't worry. Ethan and I won't leak this story unless someone offers at least two hundred dollars."
"Two million."
"Deal. I'll take this secret to my grave."
Tony grabbed the pot and began eating faster.
Soon he was devouring the food, making up for days of weakness.
Deadpool nodded proudly.
"I truly am domestic perfection."
---
The Workshop Begins
Soon the cave turned into organized chaos.
"Ethan, bring me that acetylene tank!"
"Wade, dismantle those miniature missiles!"
Deadpool raised an eyebrow.
"I don't work well under pressure."
"Move!"
Tony was already disassembling a small missile, carefully extracting the palladium core.
Ethan carried over the acetylene.
"What exactly are you planning?"
Tony gestured to the crude electromagnet in his chest.
"You know about the arc reactor?"
Ethan nodded slowly.
"Yes. Industrial scale. Clean energy."
"I'm building a smaller one."
Ethan stared.
"In a cave?"
Tony didn't look up.
"There's a one in ten thousand chance this works."
"And the rest?"
"We all explode."
Ethan smiled faintly.
"One in ten thousand? That's better odds than a lottery jackpot."
"I'm in."
Deadpool leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
Watching history unfold.
Watching the birth of Iron Man happen not in a boardroom…
Not in a laboratory…
But in a cave.
And this time—
Deadpool was here to see it.
He scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"Second-generation Marvel Jesus guiding first-generation Marvel Jesus."
He nodded proudly.
"Embarrassing? Maybe."
"But also legendary."
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