Lucas's sword flashed in a brilliant arc—more than a dozen terrorists were cleaved cleanly in half. The cuts were so smooth they looked as if a master craftsman had polished them.
Without pause, he invoked Garuda's Embrace.
Emerald talons of energy materialized out of thin air, seizing Lucas and hurling him straight into the midst of the enemy ranks.
"Wind Rend!"
He swung again—green power converged before him, forming countless razor-sharp eagle claws that tore into the gunmen like a storm of blades.
Screams filled the air. Flesh shredded. Blood burst out in crimson fountains, spraying across the sand. In an instant, the yellow earth turned scarlet, the ground littered with severed limbs and mangled corpses. What moments ago was a bare desert outpost now resembled a slaughterhouse from hell.
The noise was deafening. So much for stealth—there was no sneaking around after this.
Lucas sighed inwardly. "Well, guess we're doing this the loud way."
More and more enemies poured in. The air filled with gunfire—metal slugs zipping past from all directions. Lucas ducked behind a massive rock, bullets chipping away at the stone.
"Damn it! What kind of firepower is this?!" he growled, glaring up at the sky. "Screw you, Stark Industries! Screw you too, Obadiah!"
He sent out a quick signal to Coulson—reinforcements would probably arrive in fifteen minutes.
"Whatever," Lucas muttered, gripping his sword tighter. "As long as Stark's alive, that's all that matters."
He stepped out from behind cover, green energy swirling violently around him. His eyes gleamed like twin emeralds.
"Atmospheric Burst!"
He slashed downward—and the world roared.
A tremendous gust erupted from his blade, winds converging wildly from every direction. Within seconds, a colossal tornado materialized at the center of the base, devouring everything in its path.
---
Inside the cave, Tony Stark and Yinsen were busy fine-tuning their crude, bulky machine—a rough, welded mess of metal plates and spare parts: the prototype Mark I armor.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Suddenly, the base alarm blared. Shouts echoed outside in a language Tony couldn't understand.
"They've found us!" Tony hissed, fingers flying across the keyboard, code flooding the monitor.
Yinsen listened closely, then frowned. "Wait, no—they're shouting that the base is under attack!"
"Under attack?" Tony froze. Then his eyes lit up. "Someone's attacking them?! You think someone came to rescue me?"
Hope reignited in his chest. He doubled his pace, hands blurring over the controls.
"Doesn't matter who it is," he said. "If they're keeping these guys busy, it's our chance to escape!"
He made final adjustments and climbed into the armor. The progress bar on the computer ticked forward slowly—painfully slowly.
Yinsen hesitated, glancing toward the entrance as the sounds of chaos grew louder. Then he made his choice.
"Tony," he said quietly, "I'll buy you some time. Promise me you'll make it out alive."
Before Tony could respond, Yinsen ran out of the cave.
"Yinsen! No! Get back here! Damn it, YINSEN!"
Tony shouted until his voice cracked, eyes flicking to the screen.
"Come on, come on! Hurry up, you piece of—!"
At last, the system chimed—Power Systems Online. The Mark I's limbs came alive. The once-heavy armor now moved easily under his control.
"Yinsen!" Tony roared, charging out of the cave.
He found him almost immediately—Yinsen standing frozen at the cave mouth, staring into the storm with wide, terrified eyes.
A howling wind tore through the cave, whipping their clothes violently. Tony stepped beside him, following his gaze—
—and his jaw dropped.
"Holy crab sticks!"
Before them, an enormous sand-colored tornado towered into the heavens, tearing the entire base apart. Buildings, vehicles, even missile launchers weighing several tons were hurled around like toys. Rockets that could level cities were shredded into fragments, scattering like paper scraps in the wind.
The terrorists were gone—every last one swallowed by the storm.
"What the hell…?" Tony murmured. "This is supposed to be an attack? Where's the enemy?!"
Yinsen could only shake his head, his face pale with disbelief.
"Back into the cave!" Tony shouted suddenly. "That thing will tear us apart!"
They turned to retreat—but before the tornado could reach them, it suddenly stopped. The winds slowed, dust settling to the ground.
From within the storm's eye, a man strolled casually into view, brushing sand off his coat.
"Excuse me!" Lucas called out cheerfully. "I've got a delivery for a Mr. Tony Stark!"
He flicked his wrist. The towering tornado unraveled and faded away. Limbs, debris, and weapons rained down around him, painting the desert red.
Tony blinked, dumbfounded inside his armor. Then he erupted.
"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST CALL ME, YOU MANGLED-TONGUED LITTLE FREAK?!" he shouted, nearly firing his flamethrower out of sheer rage.
Lucas grinned. "Ohhh, so you're Tony 'Stark,' huh? My mistake! Real pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark. Gotta say, that name of yours rolls right off the tongue! Quite… relatable, don't you think?"
"Someone hired me to pick up a man named Tony Stark," Lucas continued, still smirking. "They said payment's no issue—whatever I charge, they'll pay. So, Mr. Stark, what do you say?"
Tony tensed, flamethrower nozzle aimed squarely at Lucas. "Yinsen, get behind me. This guy doesn't look like a good Samaritan. Could be one of the terrorists."
Yinsen immediately ducked behind him. After all they'd been through, Tony was the only person he could trust.
Lucas sighed and lifted his free hand. "Relax, Mr. Stark. I'm working under official authorization—from your government. And your lovely assistant insisted I bring you back safely."
The massive sword on Lucas's back gleamed under the sunlight, giving him the air of a knight from another age.
Tony hesitated, suspicion still in his eyes. But when Lucas pulled out a familiar object—a sleek wristwatch—Tony froze.
"That…" he murmured.
It was his father's watch. One he only wore at formal events. Pepper had been the last person to handle it.
He let out a long breath, tension easing.
"Alright," Tony said at last, lowering his weapon. "Guess you're not one of them after all."
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