Tony Stark lay back down on the cot, and under Ethan's precise, steady hands, the miniature Arc Reactor was carefully placed against his chest.
The moment the gleaming, blue-white device clicked into place, an unusual, almost mystical light seemed to emanate from it, bathing the dark cave. Ethan blinked, his eyes momentarily stunned by the brilliant energy. When he looked at Stark again, it wasn't just the light; Tony seemed fundamentally altered.
Tony slowly stood up, turning to look at the massive car battery that had tethered him to death for five days. He was free, not just from the battery's constraints, but from the constraints of his old life.
Touching the cool, humming reactor on his chest, Tony felt a fire in his blood. This new "heart" didn't just give him power—it gave him a mission.
Mark I—commencement officially declared.
The dark, damp cave was instantly transformed into an industrial forge. The rhythmic clang of hammered steel echoed through the mountain. Ethan, a brilliant scientist in his own right, proved invaluable, his precision saving Tony countless hours as the massive mechanical components gradually took shape.
In their scarce downtime, they attempted to distract themselves with simple games. This time, Tony initiated the conversation.
"You still haven't told me where you're from," Tony asked, glancing at Ethan as he welded a joint.
Ethan paused, wetting his lips lightly. "A small town called Gemilla. It was a very good place."
"Family?"
"Yes. I will see them the minute we leave this hellhole," Ethan stated, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt.
Then he countered. "And you, Stark?"
Stark glanced at Ethan for a strained two seconds, his lips twisting slightly before he lowered his head, welding the piece with renewed focus. "I have no family."
"No?" Ethan said calmly, placing the piece down. "So you have everything, yet you possess absolutely nothing."
Stark managed a slight, cryptic smile, but his thoughts remained shielded.
Two grueling months passed. The bulk of the Mark I components were finished. But the sustained activity, the sheer scale of the project, eventually raised suspicions.
The leader, accompanied by a dozen armed henchmen, stormed into the cave. Both Tony and Ethan instantly tensed. Just like the first time, Tony raised his hands above his head in feigned surrender.
The leader, thankfully, did not threaten Tony, but launched into a furious exchange with Ethan in a language Tony couldn't understand.
"Why aren't you following orders?!" was the clear gist of the shouting.
"We are working. We are working diligently!" Ethan insisted, trying to maintain a facade of compliance.
The bald leader slowly stalked toward Ethan. "I spared your life, and this is how you repay me?"
Two henchmen rushed forward, seizing Ethan and slamming him onto his knees.
The leader walked to the nearby forge and, with deliberate slowness, picked up a pair of tongs, grabbing a small, circular iron ball that was glowing menacingly red-hot.
"Do you take me for an idiot? You won't talk, will you?" The threat was palpable, dripping with vicious intent.
Ethan remained kneeling, his voice trembling slightly. "We are working hard."
The leader gave a cruel smile, holding the scorching iron ball up. "Open your mouth!"
Stark, watching the horrifying pantomime, quickly asked Ethan, "What is he going to do? Ethan, what is he saying?"
The leader brutally twisted Ethan's head and slammed his face onto the anvil. "Do you think I'm stupid?"
"What are you building? Tell us the truth!" the leader roared.
Seeing the brutal assault, Stark's fists clenched, his mind making the horrifying connection to the living dead story. He knew what was happening.
"He is building a Jericho missile!" Ethan screamed, his voice strained as his head hit the anvil, the effort of his refusal finally broken.
"Confess honestly!" The scorching iron ball was held inches from Ethan's lips, ready to burn him to silence and submission.
"He is building a Jericho missile!" Ethan repeated, a desperate, final act of fealty to the plan.
Stark couldn't stand it. He took a forceful step forward. "What do you want? Is it a delivery date you need?"
The henchmen immediately trained their rifles on the boss as Stark approached, their fear of the genius palpable. The leader turned slowly to face Tony, his eyes narrowed, waiting to hear what the engineer had to say.
"I need him," Stark said, his voice flat but firm, utterly devoid of his usual arrogance. "He is invaluable to the project." This was the first time Tony Stark had ever admitted dependence.
"You will install the missiles by tomorrow morning!" The leader let the red-hot iron ball fall to the ground with a soft clink. He issued his threat, then turned and left, taking his men with him.
Tony Stark watched the retreating figures, his eyes blazing with a cold, contained fury. Veins bulged visibly on his fists.
Two hours later, the cave was filled with the deafening, rhythmic sound of 'CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!'
Wearing only a vest, Tony was drenched in sweat, furiously hammering the final metal component in his hand. He plunged the hot metal into a barrel of coolant—a sharp hiss and a plume of white steam rose up.
The final piece of the Mark I—the armored mask—was complete.
Ethan, working with frantic speed, began the rapid final assembly of the Mark I around Tony, who was simultaneously running final program checks and corrections. There was no time to lose.
As Ethan helped Tony into the massive gear, he asked, panting heavily from exertion, "Did you remember the route?" This was the most useful information Ethan had collected over his long, veiled captivity.
"Straight for forty-one steps, then sixteen steps to the exit door, take the right fork, walk thirty-three steps, then turn right again. I have it."
"That's right. Very good. No mistakes," Ethan managed, clearly exhausted.
Outside, the insurgents, having noted the frantic activity, were mobilizing. A man shouted in Hungarian at the iron gate. Ethan didn't understand the language, confirming their suspicion. They opened the door, only to be thrown backward eight meters by a cleverly rigged explosive Tony had planted.
The explosion destroyed the surveillance camera and sealed their fate: escape was their only option.
Under Tony's shouted guidance, Ethan initiated the Mark I power-up sequence. The noise outside grew closer, increasing Ethan's panic.
"All the hex bolts are tight!" Ethan glanced at the progress bar, which was barely halfway complete. "We need more time! Stark, we need more time!"
He looked at Tony, strapped inside the giant metal chassis. "Hey! I'm going to buy you some time!"
"Stick to the plan! Stick to the plan, Ethan!" Tony roared, his voice thick with sudden, desperate realization.
Tony listened to Ethan's hurried footsteps and voice fade away. His eyes, now bloodshot and burning with unshed tears, were focused on the progress bar.
As the program entered the final phase, the voltage surged, plunging the cave into darkness.
Moments later, the first of the insurgents burst through Ethan's makeshift defense and rushed into Stark's section of the cave.
The steel armor of the Mark I was impenetrable to standard rifle fire. The immense kinetic energy of the mechanical punch was enough to send a man flying ten meters. The four intruders were dispatched instantly.
Following the directions Ethan had given him, Tony lumbered toward the exit, still clinging to a sliver of hope that he might find his friend waiting. With raw brute force, he flattened anyone in his path.
Finally, at the entrance to the cave complex, he found Ethan, collapsed and bleeding, on the verge of death.
"Ethan!" Tony's call was raw with pain.
Lying on the ground, Ethan saw the bald leader raising a weapon and screamed one last warning: "Watch out!"
A grenade was launched by the leader. Tony lurched, the grenade grazing the Mark I's massive shoulder.
Tony manually fired a wrist-mounted miniature missile, but the crude aiming mechanism failed. It missed the bald man, exploding instead on a nearby rock face, sending the leader sprawling, knocked unconscious.
Tony approached Ethan, his helmet retracting. His brow was soaked with sweat, his eyes wide with desperate expectation. "Hurry, we have to go now! For my sake, let's go! We agreed to stick to the plan!" His voice cracked at the end.
"That was always my plan, Stark," Ethan lay pale, his voice barely a whisper, having spent his last strength on the warning shout.
"No! You still have to see your family! Get up!" Tony glared down at him, trying to instill his own will to live into his dying friend.
"My family is already dead. I am going to see them now, Stark. It's alright," Ethan looked up at Tony. "This is the ending I chose. The one I wanted."
Tony's nostrils flared, his eyes suddenly burning red with tears. He tried to force a comforting smile for Ethan, but the effort broke him. Tears streamed down his grimy face.
"Thank you for saving me," he whispered, his gaze filled with agony.
"Then cherish life. Don't waste it," Ethan finished. He took two final, shallow breaths, and his eyes went vacant.
Stark stared at the dead man for a second, then his face hardened. All the sadness was instantly replaced by towering, focused rage. He turned away from the body, the metallic roar of the Mark I masking his cry.