BANG!
The heavy iron door was brutally kicked open, and a blinding light flooded in from outside, forcing Tony, who had grown accustomed to the dimness, to squint instinctively.
A burly man with a rugged, fleshy face walked in, followed by several heavily armed militants. The man's eagle-like gaze swept across the cave before finally landing on Tony, a cruel smile spreading across his lips.
He spoke in broken English, "Mr. Stark, welcome to your new workshop."
The man waved his hand, and his subordinates threw crates of weapon components onto the ground, creating a harsh clatter of metal.
Tony's pupils contracted.
On every crate was the blue and white logo he knew all too well—Stark Industries.
Jericho missile fuses, high-explosive warheads, precision guidance chips… every single piece was from his designs, from his factories.
"You should be familiar with these, right?" the leader sneered, kicking a warhead with his foot. "Now, we want you to assemble a complete 'Jericho' for us. Use your own masterpiece to present a grand gift to our cause."
Tony stared at the weapons that were supposed to protect peace, now toys for terrorists. An irrepressible rage surged from his chest to the top of his head.
The weapons he had designed were being used against him, against innocent people.
And there was only one person who could have silently shipped these advanced weapons to this godforsaken place and betrayed his location with such precision.
Obadiah Stane.
The man who had cared for him like a father after his own father's death, the man he saw as an uncle.
A bone-chilling cold, colder than the cave's damp chill, instantly froze Tony's blood. After the anger came absolute calm.
He would not die here.
He was going to go back and ask that old man, face-to-face, why.
"I need materials. A lot of materials," Tony said, looking up, his eyes terrifyingly calm. "And my assistant. Him," he pointed to the silent Yinsen, "he speaks multiple languages. I need him to translate, to ensure your requirements are not misunderstood."
The leader, surprised by his cooperation, paused for a moment before bursting into laughter. "A smart man! Of course, as long as you can build the missile, anything can be arranged!"
In the days that followed, the cave became Tony Stark's most primitive, and most frantic, laboratory.
On the surface, he and Yinsen slowly assembled the missile under the terrorists' watch. But secretly, a grand deception was quietly unfolding.
The most critical and valuable materials—palladium, gold-titanium alloy, microprocessors—were all secretly hidden away by them, passed off as "scrap" or "for calibration."
In the dead of night, when the surveillance camera panned away on its fixed route, faint tapping sounds would echo from the depths of the cave.
"The energy conversion efficiency is too low. This old car battery won't be enough to power the core drive," Tony said, frowning at the simple electromagnet in his hand.
"We can extract the palladium from the missile thrusters and build a new miniature reactor," Yinsen said in a low voice, polishing a thick steel plate. "A bigger version of the one in your chest."
Tony glanced down at the simple device in his chest that was keeping him alive, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes. He had to not only survive, but walk out of here with his head held high, clad in a suit of armor.
"This thing… it needs a name," Tony said, stroking the nascent metal shell before him. It was crude, bulky, with crooked weld seams, like a misshapen tin can.
But in his eyes, this pile of scrap metal was the only hope for freedom.
"Let's call it… 'Paul-One'."
He whispered the name as if afraid of disturbing something.
"Paul?" Yinsen stopped his work, looking at him curiously. "Someone important?"
"My son," Tony's voice was soft, laced with a tenderness he himself didn't notice. "A… cocky, but brilliant kid."
He remembered the suit Paul had given him, remembered the proud look on the kid's face as he pretentiously explained graphene batteries.
He'd lost that suit.
But it didn't matter. He would build something much stronger with his own hands.
Yinsen was silent for a moment, then nodded, a hint of longing in his eyes. "That's nice. I have a family too. I haven't seen them in a long time… Tony, we have to get out of here alive."
"We will."
Tony's reply was decisive.
Hope, like a flame in the darkness, burned brighter and brighter in the hearts of the two men.
The prototype of "Paul-One" took shape in their hands, piece by piece. The chest plate, the arms, the legs… every component was forged from their intellect and sweat.
However, their subtle activities did not escape the terrorists' eyes.
Their progress was too slow.
"Tomorrow!"
That day, the leader kicked the door open again, his face so dark it looked like it could drip water. He pointed at Tony's nose and delivered his ultimatum.
"If I don't see a complete Jericho missile by nightfall tomorrow, you two can go meet your maker!"
With that, he left two heavily armed guards stationed firmly outside the door.
The atmosphere instantly froze.
"There's not enough time," Yinsen's face was deathly pale. "The reactor isn't fully charged, and the system needs time to boot."
Beads of sweat formed on Tony's forehead. He stared intently at the behemoth before him, his mind racing.
He was just one step away. If he could just connect the hydraulic systems for the arms and legs, and then get ten minutes, just ten minutes for the system to boot…
But the guards outside were like two reapers, and they wouldn't give them any chance.
Time ticked by, second by second. The only sounds in the cave were their heavy breaths and the frantic pounding of their hearts.
Suddenly, Yinsen stood up.
He looked at Tony, then at the heavy suit of armor. His expression shifted from despair to grim resolve.
"Tony," he said calmly, "your family is waiting for you."
Tony froze, not yet understanding the meaning behind his words.
Yinsen was already at the door. He took a deep breath, as if making the most important decision of his life.
"Buy me some time!" Tony roared, finally understanding what Yinsen was about to do.
"This is all I can do," Yinsen turned his head, giving him a smile of release. "Don't waste your life, Tony."
Before his voice had even faded, he wrenched the iron door open.
"They're trying to escape!"
The guards' terrified shouts came from outside.
It was followed by a barrage of gunfire and a muffled grunt from Yinsen.
"Move! Get in there!"
The chaotic sound of footsteps rushed madly toward the cave.
Tony's eyes were bloodshot. He used all his strength to cram himself into the cold "Paul-One" suit.
"J.A.R.V.I.S… no… System, engage!"
He chanted silently in his mind, his trembling hands pressing the start button on his chest.
*VMMMM—*
The mini Arc Reactor let out a low hum, and a blue light instantly illuminated the interior of the suit.
A virtual progress bar appeared on the crude display in front of his eyes.
[SYSTEM BOOTING… 1%]
Too slow!
[SYSTEM BOOTING… 2%]
Outside, the gunfire grew closer, and Yinsen's cries grew fainter.
[SYSTEM BOOTING… 3%]
Tony could clearly hear the *ping* of bullets striking the iron door; he could even feel the vibrations.
He was sealed in this iron coffin, forced to listen as the man who saved his life bought him time with his own.
And he could do nothing.
Only wait.
Wait for this damned progress bar to complete its long journey.