The cave felt smaller now—as though the walls themselves were closing in, squeezing the st ounces of air from the suffog space. It was the seventh day.

  Seven days of grueling work, stolen moments of sleep, sweat-soaked hours, aless fear. And today, the storm outside was finally breaking.

  Gunsh out.

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Each crack of a rifle echoed off the stone walls like a distant scream, and every shot sent a shiver of dread crawling up Tony Stark's spine. He worked faster, his hands moving with meical precisioe the sweat slig his fingers.

  "Tell me that's not ing closer," Tony muttered, his voice tight, trying to fore sembnce of normalto the tension.

  Yinsen, hunched over the small, battered puter on the workbench, didn't look up. His hands danced across the keyboard, wiring figurations fshing on the s.

  "I could tell you that," He said calmly, the usual pcid veneer of his voice crag only slightly, "but I think you'd prefer the truth."

  "Oh good," Tony quipped, cheg the welds on his armlove for the tweime. "Because I love bad news."

  Bang!

  Another shot. Closer this time.

  Tony's chest tightehe armored suit he wore was only half finished, cobbled together from scraps and desperation. Its joints squealed when he moved, and it weighed on him like a metal coffiugged at the armpiece, wing as its weight settled over his shoulder.

  It's not ready, He thought bitterly. I'm not ready.

  "Yinsen!" He barked, louder than intended. "How much longer?"

  Yinsen's fingers opped moving, though his voice was calm as ever. "Three minutes. Maybe four."

  "We don't have three minutes," Tony snapped, gng toward the bolted door. Beyond it, the chaos was growing. Men shouting, feet pounding against the rocky ground, bursts of automatifire ripping through the air like thunder.

  He could feel it—death. It was ing for them, and it wouldn't knock politely before breaking down that door.

  The suit felt heavier with every passing sed, pressing down on Tony like the weight of his sins. Each joint—crudely welded together and barely funal—creaked with every movement.

  A far cry from the sleek maes he was used to, the ones he had built to destroy without ever getting his hands dirty.

  This isn't what I do, Tony thought, biting the inside of his cheek as he tested the hydrauli the suit's right arm. I build bombs. I sell them. I don't—

  The guside swelled into a chorus of chaos.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Tony flinched, his heart lurg in his chest. He stared down at the massive armau now c his right hand. In the sileween the gunshots, he could hear his owbeat pounding in his ears like a drum.

  "You're quiet," Yinsen murmured suddenly, breaking Tony's spiral of thoughts. He turo see the older man watg him, his lined fareadable. "Not like you."

  "Yeah, well," Tony exhaled sharply, f a smirk, "I'm saving my good material for after we're not about to die."

  Yinsen's lips quirked, but his eyes remained grave. "You do this, Tony."

  Tony stared at him, startled. "Do what? Wear this tin like a medieval knight and hope it works? That's your pep talk?"

  "Survive."

  Tony opened his mouth to retort—another quip, something to deflect the weight of the moment—but his voice caught in his throat. Yinsen's eyes softened.

  "You have a good heart, Tony Stark. This is your ce to prove it."

  The room seemed to hum with tension now, a low vibration pressing against Tony's skull. His suit ged with every step as he moved closer to the workbench, h near Yinsen like a soldier awaiting orders.

  The puter's s flickered, lines of gree scrolling by as Yinsen ran the final diagnostics.

  The old man's hands shook as he typed, but his foever wavered.

  "It's almost ready," Yinsen muttered, sweat dripping down his temple.

  "Define 'almost,'" Tony shot back, his tone clipped. "Because I think the guys with the guns are starting to take offense."

  As if on cue, a fresh burst of gunfire erupted outside. The walls trembled with the impact of something heavy, and Tony could swear he heard someone screaming. The shouts were muffled but full of anger—or desperation. He couldn't tell anymore.

  "e on, e on, e on," Tony muttered under his breath, pag in the ky armor. The hydraulics hissed, a sound far too loud for his liking.

  Yinsen's hands moved faster, fingers dang over the keyboard. "Almost there. Thirty seds."

  "Make it ten."

  Yinsen g him, his calm mask crag just enough for Tony to see the worry beh. He said nothing, only turned back to the s.

  Then, suddenly, the guopped.

  The silence was worse.

  It was the kind of silehat crawled under your skin and cwed at your throat. Tony froze, his heart smming against his ribcage as he turo Yinsen.

  "Why did it stop?"

  Yinsen's hands hesitated for just a moment over the keyboard. He looked at the door, his face pale. "I don't know."

  Tony swallowed, his throat dry. "Is the system ready?"

  "Not yet," Yinsen whispered.

  "Work faster."

  Yinsen nodded, his hands moving again.

  Tony turoward the door, every nerve in his body screaming. The air felt heavy, each sed stretg iernity as they waited—for the shout, the gunshot, the sound of boots pounding toward them.

  But there was nothing.

  Just silence.

  Something's wrong, Tony thought, his fiwitg ihe armauhey wouldn't just stop.

  Then, a noise.

  k!

  The sound of a bolt being undone.

  Tony's breath caught as the sealed droaned, metal grinding against metal. A sliver of light spilled into the cave as the dan to open, painfully slow.

  "Yinsen," Tony hissed, his voice trembling with urgency. "Tell me the system is ready."

  Yinsen didn't answer, his focus locked on the s.

  The door opened wider. A figure stepped inside.

  The man wore loose bck fatigues and a bacva that covered most of his face, save for his sharp, dark eyes. He paused in the doorway, hands resting casually at his sides. Behind him, the faint sounds of chaos still drifted through the mountain pass, but he seemed utterly unfazed.

  "Well, well," The man said, his voice muffled but unmistakably cheerful. His English erfect. "Tony Stark. I've been looking all over for you."

  Tony stared, his pulse hammering in his ears. "Who the hell are you?"

  The man pulled down his mask, revealing a cocky grin and a rugged face that was very handsome, its charm further enhanced by the unnerving fide radiated. His sharp, pierg gaze locked onto Tony like a predator sizing up its prey.

  Tony instinctively ched his armored fist, the joints in his improvised gau creaking in protest.

  "You call me Seph," The man said, his tone almost unnervingly casual. He took a slow step forward, hands still raised slightly to signal he wasn't armed. "You've made quite the impression, Mr. Stark. Almost brought the whole mountain down trying to find you."

  --- ? ? ? ---

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