( Bonus Chapter)
Tony sat on the edge of his makeshift bed, staring at the schematics scattered around him.
Marcus and Yinsen watched him carefully, waiting. They'd pushed him hard yesterday—maybe too hard. Sometimes people broke under that kind of pressure instead of rising to meet it.
"Why should I do it?" Tony said finally, his voice flat. "They're going to kill me anyway. Kill all of us. Whether I build their missile or not, whether I cooperate or resist—the end result is the same."
He looked up, meeting their eyes. "So doesn't it make sense to just... not? To refuse? At least then I die on my terms, not theirs."
The cave was quiet except for the hum of the arc reactor in Tony's chest and the distant sound of guards moving through tunnels.
Marcus had been waiting for this. The moment when the adrenaline from yesterday wore off and the reality set in. When the brilliant, arrogant Tony Stark confronted the fact that he was trapped, powerless, at the mercy of men who wanted to use him and then discard him.
Most people would give up here, Marcus thought. But Tony Stark isn't most people.
"The Tony Stark I know," Marcus said quietly, "doesn't accept fate. He changes it."
Tony laughed—bitter, sharp. "You don't know me. We met two days ago."
"I know enough." Marcus leaned forward. "I know you built your first circuit board at four years old. I know you were admitted to MIT at fourteen. I know you took over Stark Industries at twenty-one when most people that age are still figuring out how to do their own laundry."
He paused, letting that sink in. "I know you're the kind of person who sees an impossible problem and treats it like a challenge. So yeah, maybe we just met. But I know exactly who Tony Stark is."
Tony stared at him for a long moment. Something shifted in his expression—the despair cracking, revealing the stubborn determination underneath.
"You're right," Tony said slowly. He stood up, ignoring the protest from his still-healing chest. "I'm Tony Stark. I don't just accept things. I don't give up."
A smile curved across his face—sharp, dangerous, full of that familiar arrogance. "And I sure as hell don't let terrorists tell me what to do."
Yinsen exhaled in relief. Marcus just nodded, hiding his satisfaction.
There it is. There's the man who builds Iron Man.
The next few hours were a flurry of activity.
Tony made lists—long, detailed lists of equipment and materials he'd need. Welding equipment, precision tools, measuring instruments, protective gear. He wrote everything down with exacting specifications, his engineer's mind cataloguing requirements.
"They want a Jericho missile?" Tony muttered as he wrote. "Fine. I'll ask for everything I'd need to build a Jericho missile."
"But you're not actually building a missile," Yinsen said carefully, glancing at the camera in the corner.
Tony's smile was all teeth. "Of course not. But they don't know that."
When the Ten Rings guards came to check on them, Tony handed over his list with a confident expression. Raza reviewed it, clearly suspicious, but everything on the list made sense for missile construction. After some negotiation—and one more round of threats—the materials started arriving.
Welding stations. Acetylene tanks. Propane torches. Soldering equipment with microscopic precision. Safety helmets and goggles. Crucibles for melting metal. Precision gauges calibrated to fractions of a millimeter.
It took most of a day to get everything hauled into the cave, but by evening, they had a functional—if crude—workshop.
Tony stood in the middle of it all, looking at the equipment with the kind of expression most people reserved for Christmas morning.
"Okay," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "Let's get to work."
Day 3
The first task was extracting palladium.
"We need about 1.6 grams," Tony explained, carefully disassembling a Stark Industries missile. "There's only 0.15 grams per missile, so we'll need at least eleven of them."
Marcus watched as Tony worked, noting the careful precision, the way his hands moved with practiced confidence even in these terrible conditions. This was Tony in his element—taking things apart, understanding them, rebuilding them into something better.
"What do you need palladium for?" Yinsen asked. "It's not used in missiles, is it?"
"Not in the explosive components, no." Tony smiled slightly. "But it's perfect for what I'm actually building."
"Which is?"
"You'll see."
Marcus already knew, of course. The miniaturized arc reactor that would replace the crude electromagnet in Tony's chest. The power source that would change everything.
But he played his part, helping disassemble missiles, carefully extracting the palladium cores, pretending this was all new and mysterious to him.
Just another assistant, Marcus reminded himself. Competent but not brilliant. Helpful but not threatening.
It was harder than it should be. After eighteen months on NZT, playing dumb felt like running with weights strapped to his legs. He saw solutions three steps ahead, caught mistakes before Tony made them, understood the underlying physics with perfect clarity.
But he couldn't show any of that.
So instead, he made small errors. Asked obvious questions. Needed explanations for things he already understood. Let Tony be the genius.
It's working, he noted. Tony was relaxing around him, treating him like a capable technician rather than a potential threat. That was exactly what Marcus needed.
By the end of the day, they had 1.6 grams of pure palladium, carefully stored in a sealed container.
Tony held it up to the light, the silvery metal gleaming. "This," he said softly, "is going to save my life."
Day 4-6
Building the arc reactor took three days.
Three days of meticulous work, of calculations scribbled on scraps of paper, of trial and error with tools that were barely adequate. Three days of Tony muttering to himself, sketching designs, explaining physics to Marcus and Yinsen in between bouts of focused construction.
Marcus watched it all with genuine admiration—not for the technology itself, which he understood perfectly, but for Tony's ability to create it under these conditions.
In the Limitless world, I had a state-of-the-art laboratory, Marcus thought. Millions of dollars in equipment. A team of researchers. And even with NZT enhancement, it took me months to synthesize a better version of NZT.
Tony's doing this in a cave. With scraps. In less than a week.
That was the difference between knowledge and genius. Marcus had accumulated vast amounts of information through NZT-enhanced learning. But Tony... Tony understood things at a fundamental level that no amount of memorization could replicate. He saw connections, made intuitive leaps, solved problems through pure creative insight.
This is why he becomes Iron Man, Marcus realized. Not because he has the most knowledge. Because he can turn knowledge into innovation. Into creation.
On the third day, Tony held up the completed arc reactor.
It was smaller than Marcus's palm—a disc of gleaming metal and copper coils, with a palladium core at its center that glowed with soft blue light. Wires and circuits wrapped around the edges in precise geometric patterns.
"Three billion joules per second," Tony said, his voice filled with quiet pride. "Enough to keep my heart beating for fifty lifetimes. Or power something significantly more interesting for about ten minutes."
Yinsen leaned closer, studying the device. "That's... Tony, that's incredible. How much energy is this producing?"
Tony did quick mental math. "About three hundred million watts. For comparison, the Three Gorges Dam in China produces about 2.25 billion watts. This little thing—" he held up the reactor "—is putting out about one-seventh of that. From something you can hold in your hand."
Marcus let himself show appropriate awe. It wasn't hard—even knowing what the arc reactor could do, seeing it in person was impressive. "That's impossible."
"Impossible is just a word people use when they haven't figured something out yet," Tony replied with a grin. Then his expression sobered. "Now comes the hard part. We need to install it."
Arc Reactor Installation
Tony lay back on the operating table, his chest exposed. The old electromagnet was still there, wired to the car battery, keeping him alive.
"Marcus," Tony said, "you did the surgery before. Want to do this one too?"
Marcus shook his head. "This is your design. You should walk me through it. I'll assist."
Too much visibility, he thought. If I perform this surgery, Yinsen will start wondering why a medical school dropout has such advanced surgical skills.
So instead, he let Tony direct him. Followed instructions. Made Yinsen the primary surgeon while Marcus played assistant—holding retractors, keeping the field clear, monitoring vitals.
It took two hours.
Two hours of careful work, of removing the old electromagnet, of expanding the cavity slightly to fit the new reactor, of connecting the device directly to Tony's circulatory system and nervous system with wires finer than human hair.
When they finally activated the new arc reactor, it hummed to life with a soft blue glow.
Tony's heart monitor immediately stabilized. His breathing deepened. Color returned to his face.
"How does it feel?" Yinsen asked.
Tony sat up slowly, looking down at his chest. The blue light was visible through his skin, pulsing gently with his heartbeat.
"Like I have a nightlight," Tony said. Then he grinned. "But also like I just got a massive upgrade. This thing is amazing."
He stood, experimentally moving around. No more battery weighing him down. No more wires trailing behind him. Just the reactor, embedded in his chest, part of him now.
"Okay," Tony said, looking at Marcus and Yinsen with fierce determination. "Phase one complete. Now for phase two."
He pulled out a stack of drawings and spread them across the table.
Individual sketches, seemingly unrelated. But when Marcus held them up to the light, letting them overlap...
The outline of armor appeared. Crude, blocky, mechanical. But unmistakably armor.
"You're building a suit," Marcus said.
"I'm building a way out," Tony corrected. "And you two are going to help me."
The Confrontation
They worked late into the night, reviewing Tony's designs. The armor would be heavy—hundreds of pounds of steel plating. Powered by the arc reactor, controlled by a series of hydraulic systems and servo motors. Primitive compared to what Tony would eventually create, but effective.
The Mark I, Marcus thought, studying the schematics. The prototype. The beginning of Iron Man.
But as they worked, something nagged at him. A calculation that had been running in the back of his mind since the arc reactor installation.
Finally, Marcus spoke up.
"Tony, I need to ask you something."
"Shoot."
Marcus set down the schematic he'd been reviewing. "You know I could copy all of this, right? The arc reactor. The armor. Everything. My knowledge isn't as deep as yours in some areas, but I've watched you build the reactor from start to finish. I understand the principles. Given enough time and resources, I could replicate everything you're doing."
The cave went silent.
Yinsen looked between them, suddenly nervous. Tony's expression became unreadable.
"Why are you telling me this?" Tony asked quietly.
"Because I need you to know I'm not planning to." Marcus met his eyes steadily. "You saved my life by letting me help with your surgery—gave me value so the Ten Rings wouldn't execute me. And now you're building our way out of here. I'm not going to betray that."
He paused. "But I also need you to understand that I can. That I have that capability. So when we get out of here—if we get out of here—you know exactly what I'm capable of. No surprises later."
Tony studied him for a long moment. His genius mind was clearly running scenarios, calculating risks, weighing trust against pragmatism.
Finally, he spoke. "Marcus, you're my friend. Or at least, you're the closest thing I have to a friend in this godforsaken cave." He gestured around them. "You saved my life. You've been helping me every day. You didn't have to volunteer for any of this."
He leaned forward. "So here's what I'm going to say. After we get out—and we will get out—if you want a set of armor, I'll build you a better one. Hell, I'll build you the Mark V if you wait long enough."
Tony's expression grew more serious. "But there are conditions. First, you don't use it for anything illegal. No robbing banks, no attacking people, no going supervillain on me. Second, if you want to make money off the arc reactor technology, we do it together. Stark Industries partners with whatever company you start. That way I can make sure the technology is used responsibly."
He stuck out his hand. "Deal?"
Marcus looked at the offered hand, then at Tony's face. There was genuine trust there, mixed with practical business sense. Tony was offering partnership, friendship, opportunity—but also keeping control.
Smart, Marcus thought. He's not naive. He's buying my loyalty with generosity while ensuring I stay under his influence.
Which is fine. I was never planning to betray him anyway.
Marcus shook Tony's hand. "Deal. Though I should warn you—I'm not planning to do anything bad with the technology. I'm not exactly the superhero type."
"Good thing one of us is," Tony said with a grin.
Yinsen, who'd been holding his breath through the entire exchange, finally relaxed. "Well. That was terrifying. Can we please get back to building the armor that will save all our lives?"
"Absolutely," Tony agreed. "Though I have to say—Marcus, calling me out on the technology theft thing? That took guts. Or stupidity. Haven't decided which yet."
"Can't it be both?" Marcus asked dryly.
Tony laughed. "Yeah. Yeah, it can."
And just like that, the tension dissolved.
They returned to the schematics, the three of them working together, the ghost of suspicion finally cleared from the room.
Week 1-2: Planning and Preparation
The next two weeks were spent in careful preparation.
Tony divided the armor construction into phases, each one designed to look like progress on the Jericho missile. Outer casings that could be missile components. Internal mechanisms that resembled guidance systems. Hydraulic tubes that might power a rocket.
"The key," Tony explained, "is to make it look just similar enough that the guards think we're on track. But different enough that they don't realize what we're actually building."
Marcus helped refine the deception. His background in social engineering—honed through NZT training and enhanced by months of practice—made him useful for predicting what the guards would find suspicious versus acceptable.
"They'll understand basic mechanics," Marcus pointed out. "They've been handling military hardware for years. But complex electronics? Servo systems? Hydraulic integration? That's beyond them. So hide the important stuff in the complicated parts."
"Good thinking," Tony agreed.
Yinsen served as translator and diplomat, managing the guards when they came to check on progress. He'd show them pieces of the armor, explain in simplified terms how they were "missile components," and send them away satisfied.
It was a delicate dance. One wrong move, one suspicious guard with a little too much knowledge, and they'd all be executed.
But week by week, the armor took shape.
Week 3-6: Construction Begins
The actual building process was grueling.
They worked twelve, sometimes fourteen hours a day. Welding steel plates together. Fabricating hydraulic systems from repurposed missile components. Wiring servo motors with painstaking precision. Testing, failing, adjusting, testing again.
Tony led the effort, but Marcus and Yinsen were essential partners. Tony's genius provided the vision, but it took all three of them to execute it.
Marcus found himself genuinely impressed by the collaborative process. In the Limitless world, he'd worked alone or with people he paid. Here, there was real partnership. Real teamwork.
This is what Yinsen was talking about, Marcus realized during one long night of welding. This feeling of building something together. Of creating something that matters.
I'd almost forgotten what that felt like.
Not that Marcus let himself get too attached. He still maintained his emotional distance, still remembered that in a few weeks, Yinsen would sacrifice himself and Marcus would escape. Still kept his focus on survival.
But for brief moments, working beside Tony and Yinsen, listening to their banter and seeing their friendship grow...
Marcus almost felt like he belonged.
Almost.
Week 7-8: Guard Pressure Increases
By the seventh week, the Ten Rings were getting impatient.
Raza came by personally, his scarred face twisted in suspicion. "This is taking too long," he said through Yinsen's translation. "Where is my missile?"
Tony, to his credit, barely flinched. "Complex weapons take time. You want it to work, don't you? Or should I rush and give you something that explodes in your face?"
Raza's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"One more week," he said finally. "Then I expect to see significant progress. Or there will be consequences."
After he left, Tony let out a shaky breath. "We need to speed this up."
"We're going as fast as we can," Yinsen said.
"Then we go faster." Tony looked at the partially-completed armor. "I'm not dying in this cave. Not when we're this close."
They ramped up the work schedule. Fifteen, sixteen hours a day. Taking shifts so someone was always working, always making progress. Marcus used his enhanced physical capabilities carefully—working just slightly faster than normal, just slightly more precise, never enough to be suspicious but enough to make a difference.
The armor came together piece by piece.
Chest plate. Arm sections. Leg components. The helmet with its crude targeting systems. The flame-throwers cobbled together from acetylene equipment.
It was ugly. Blocky and industrial, more like a walking tank than the sleek suits Tony would eventually create.
But it would work.
It has to work, Marcus thought, watching Tony weld another piece into place. Because if it doesn't, we're all dead.
Week 9-10: Final Assembly
The last two weeks were the most tense.
Every day, guards came to check on them. Every day, Tony had to show progress, explain components, deflect suspicion. The armor was barely hidden anymore—too large to conceal completely. They'd arranged it to look like missile sections, scattered around the cave in a way that suggested construction in progress but not complete assembly.
"How much longer?" Yinsen asked one evening.
Tony looked at the armor, running calculations. "Three days, maybe four. We need to finish the hydraulic systems, install the control mechanisms, do a full systems test..."
"We don't have three days," Marcus interrupted. "Raza's deadline is tomorrow."
"Then we'll have to convince him we're almost done." Tony wiped sweat from his forehead. "Show him something impressive. Make him think we just need a few more days of final assembly."
They worked through the night, preparing a demonstration. In the morning, when Raza came with his guards, Tony had a section of the armor powered up—the arm moving through its range of motion, hydraulics hissing, servo motors whining.
"See?" Tony said through Yinsen's translation. "The guidance system is nearly complete. Just a few more adjustments and you'll have your missile."
Raza watched the mechanical arm move, clearly impressed despite himself. "Two more days," he said finally. "No more extensions."
After he left, Tony sagged against the wall. "That was too close."
"We're running out of time," Yinsen said quietly.
"I know." Tony looked at the armor—almost complete now, just needing final testing and adjustments. "We finish tomorrow night. Then we go, ready or not."
Day 87: Almost Complete
Marcus woke to the sound of welding.
Tony had been up for hours, probably all night, making final adjustments to the armor. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hands shaking slightly from exhaustion and too much coffee, but his focus was absolute.
"Nearly there," he muttered, not looking up. "Just need to finish the control interface, run the systems check, and we're golden."
Yinsen prepared breakfast—the same tasteless stew they'd been eating for three months—while Marcus checked their supplies. Food, water, medical supplies. They'd been stockpiling secretly, taking more than they needed at meals, hiding it away for the escape.
"Do you really think this will work?" Yinsen asked quietly, sitting beside Marcus.
"Tony's armor? Yeah. I think it will."
"That's not what I meant." Yinsen looked at him seriously. "Do you think we'll actually escape? All three of us?"
Marcus met his eyes, seeing the question beneath the question. Yinsen knew—had probably known for weeks—that he wasn't getting out of this alive. Some part of him had accepted that truth.
I should lie, Marcus thought. Tell him everything will be fine. Give him hope.
But Yinsen deserved better than lies.
"I think," Marcus said carefully, "that some of us will make it. And that has to be enough."
Yinsen nodded slowly. "Make sure Tony gets out. Whatever happens. He has so much to do, so much to build. The world needs him."
"I will."
"Good." Yinsen stood, moving back to help Tony with the armor. "Then I can live with whatever comes next."
Marcus watched him go, feeling something uncomfortably close to regret.
You're a good man, Yinsen. Better than me. I'm sorry I can't save you.
But I'll make sure your sacrifice matters.
That Evening
The Mark I was complete.
It stood in the center of the cave like some kind of medieval knight—all steel plates and hydraulic joints, crude and brutal and magnificent. The arc reactor sat in its chest, glowing blue through the metal plating.
Tony circled it slowly, checking every joint, every connection, every system.
"She's beautiful," he said softly.
"She's terrifying," Yinsen corrected. "But yes, also beautiful."
Tony looked at both of them, and for a moment his usual arrogance fell away. "I couldn't have done this without you two. You know that, right?"
"We know," Marcus said.
"When we get out—when, not if—I'm taking care of both of you. Jobs, money, whatever you need. You're part of my life now, whether you like it or not."
Yinsen smiled. "I think I can live with that."
If you live at all, Marcus thought, but didn't say.
Tony turned back to the armor. "Tomorrow morning, I'll tell them it's ready for demonstration. They'll want to see it work. And when they do..."
He didn't need to finish the sentence.
Tomorrow, everything changed.
Tomorrow, they fought for freedom.
Tomorrow, Tony Stark became Iron Man.
And Marcus Reid finally got his ticket home.
Just one more day, Marcus thought, looking at the armor. One more day of playing the assistant. Then I can stop pretending and just survive.
One more day.
(End of Chapter 15)
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