"I had no idea you knew Tony Stark…" Jean said suddenly, raising her eyebrows.
"And even less that you were friends with him."
Arthur looked up, a faintly ironic smile tugging at his lips.
"Let's just say… it happened unexpectedly. It's a long story."
Jean leaned slightly over the counter, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.
"I'd love to hear that story."
Arthur chuckled softly.
"If that's what you want…" he said in a resigned yet charming tone. "Let's start from the beginning. You remember my old job, right?"
Jean frowned, trying to recall.
"You mean… when you were a self-defense instructor for the NYPD?"
Arthur laughed.
"...No. Before that."
Her expression changed instantly. Realization flickered across her face, and her eyes widened slightly.
"Ohh~ I see…" she said, her tone a mix of surprise and curiosity as she crossed her arms. "So that's the time period we're talking about."
Arthur nodded.
"Well…" he began, lowering his voice slightly, as if sharing a secret. "It all started a few months ago…"
Jean straightened, eyes fixed on him, her posture subtly leaning forward.
---
[Flashback no Jutsu]
"AND TRY USING THE DAMN PLIERS THE RIGHT WAY NEXT TIME, YOU IDIOT!!"
The shout exploded through the cave like thunder.
Arthur roared at the terrorist who had just shoved him roughly into the darkness. The metallic rattle of chains and the dull thud of his boots against stone echoed throughout the cavern.
Arthur fell to his knees, gasping for breath. His body was covered in bruises and deep cuts—clear evidence of torture, some wounds still bleeding.
His wrists bore red welts from prolonged restraint, and several of his fingernails were missing — a cruel reminder of what he'd endured.
For a moment, silence filled the cave.
Two men who were already inside flinched, startled by the sudden arrival of the wounded stranger. They exchanged tense glances; even their breathing sounded too loud in the heavy air.
Slowly, Arthur pushed himself up. Despite the state he was in, his cold, defiant gaze showed no sign of pain. He brushed the dust and grit from his torn clothes, rolling his shoulders until they popped back into place.
"Son of a bitch…" Arthur muttered as he cracked a few joints back into alignment.
Ignoring the burning pain in his mutilated hands, he scanned the room — and then smirked faintly when he recognized one of the faces.
"Well, well, well… if it isn't the great Tony Stark," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I thought you'd been kidnapped."
Tony looked up from his work. His face was smudged with soot and exhaustion, but his grin came fast and sharp.
"Nah. Just your imagination," he replied dryly. "This is my vacation home. Can't you see the beautiful view?" He gestured at the rocky walls, dripping ceiling, and hanging chains.
Arthur let out a short laugh.
"I figured as much," he shot back in the same mocking tone, crossing his arms.
But then something else caught his attention — what Tony and the other man were building.
On a makeshift table, a tangle of metal, wires, and iron plates was slowly taking shape.
It wasn't a missile, and it definitely wasn't what the terrorists thought they'd ordered.
"I overheard those bastards saying you were building a missile for them…" Arthur said, walking toward the prototype. "But I'm not dumb enough to mistake that for a missile."
Instantly, Tony and the other man — Yinsen — froze.
Cold sweat trickled down their temples. The air turned heavy, almost solid.
Arthur noticed and chuckled — a quiet, taunting sound that made both men exchange irritated glances.
For a moment, they both had the same thought: punch this smug bastard until he shuts up.
But they ignored him and went back to work.
Arthur, meanwhile, sat cross-legged on the floor, watching them like a man observing a curious experiment.
Soon, the rhythmic clang of metal filled the cavern again.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Yinsen hammered relentlessly while Tony typed furiously on an old computer, his eyes reflecting the bluish glow of the screen.
---
Dawn
Mental exhaustion hit Tony and Yinsen like a punch to the gut.
Neither of them had slept a single minute through the night.
Hours of calculations, welding, and hammering had consumed them.
The suit — once disassembled to fool the terrorists — was beginning to take shape again. Crude, imperfect, but undeniably alive.
But not everything was going well.
"The transmission mechanism for the left arm is failing," Yinsen said, panting, wiping sweat from his brow. "It's probably the low-grade materials."
Tony growled under his breath.
That flaw was critical. Without a functioning left arm, the flamethrower and missile launcher would be useless — and that meant dying before even getting out of there.
Time was running out. Re-forging the parts would cost precious hours.
Tony's fingers flew across the keyboard.
"Hold on… I'm almost done with the targeting program!" he said tensely.
Arthur watched them with folded arms and a faintly amused smile.
"Impressive…" he whistled, as if watching a live performance.
After a moment, he stood and approached Yinsen, who was staring at the faulty mechanism with growing frustration.
"The problem isn't the defective part," Arthur said calmly. "It's the C9 and G9 units. You swapped them."
Yinsen blinked, startled.
"What?" he muttered, uncertain. "Are you sure?"
Arthur shrugged casually.
"Positive," he replied. "I've dealt with this kind of thing before. Robots, circuits… they love to mess with people."
Yinsen hesitated, glanced at Tony — still focused on the computer — and decided to try it.
He removed the two components and switched them as Arthur suggested.
Instantly, he felt the difference.
The suit's arm moved smoothly, fluidly — alive. No grinding, no resistance.
Perfect.
"This is…" Yinsen stared at Arthur in awe.
Arthur grinned.
"Don't look at me like that. I've got plenty of experience with this robotic crap," he joked.
Tony, finishing his code, came over.
"Alright, targeting program's done. Let me check the—" he stopped when he saw Yinsen smiling.
"No need. It's fixed," Yinsen said, explaining what happened.
Tony was stunned.
The C9 and G9 modules were small and subtle — crucial components. Even he would have taken a while to spot that mistake.
And this stranger — a man he'd met mere hours ago — had done it in seconds.
It was… impressive.
And unsettling.
But there was no time for questions.
Arthur took a step forward, his tone casual.
"I've got a proposal. Wanna hear it?"
Tony raised an eyebrow.
"A proposal? Go on."
"I'll help you two get out of here," Arthur said, crossing his arms. "In exchange, I want one of you to forge me a sword. Nothing fancy — just a simple one made from whatever scrap metal you can find."
Tony laughed incredulously.
"You're serious? You think you can get us out of here?"
Arthur smirked.
"Without a shadow of a doubt."
Yinsen checked his watch.
"It's six a.m. We still have time," he said, a spark of hope in his eyes.
Tony grabbed a wrench and nodded.
"Alright. Deal," he said firmly.
Yinsen hurried to prepare the sword, while Arthur helped Tony assemble the final sections of the armor.
Soon, their teamwork became seamless — almost instinctive.
Yinsen watched in amazement.
It was like seeing two geniuses working in perfect harmony.
Tony coded, Arthur adjusted; Tony welded, Arthur stabilized and completed.
Their movements synced effortlessly.
Tony, for his part, could hardly believe it.
They'd known each other less than a day, but worked together as if they'd been partners for years.
And for the first time in a long while, Stark found himself admiring another man's intellect.
This guy… he's different, Tony thought.
And deep down, he already knew he wanted Arthur at Stark Industries.
---
"You two finished half an hour ahead of schedule," Yinsen announced, approaching, exhausted but smiling.
"By the way," he added, extending his hand, "I don't think we've been properly introduced. My name is Yinsen."
Arthur shook his hand firmly.
"Arthur. Pleasure."
"Alright, enough introductions. We've got work to do," Tony cut in, already setting the improvised bomb at the cave entrance.
With Arthur and Yinsen's help, he donned the Mark I — the primitive but powerful iron suit. The sound of metal locking into place was like thunder heralding a coming storm.
Yinsen rushed to the back of the cave, where a freshly forged sword rested on a workbench.
He lifted it and handed it to Arthur.
"It's the best I could do."
Arthur took the sword and gave it a few test swings.
The iron was rough, the edge imperfect — but it was balanced.
And somehow… it felt right.
"It's perfect. Good enough," Arthur said with a faint smile.
Just then, an alarm blared outside.
On the terrorists' monitors, they finally realized Tony Stark was gone.
Hell was about to begin.
(End of Chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."