Chapter 6: Just Give Me a Beer!
"This… this is impossible!" The bald leader gawked at the gaping hole in the cave wall, still reeling from the sight of the missile that had turned mid-air. In just a short span, he'd witnessed not one but two absurd miracles. Was fate playing some kind of cruel joke on him?
Tony, now fully awake and seizing the moment, ripped off the damaged armor on his arm. Without hesitation, he raised his mechanical limb and launched a missile straight at the stunned leader.
His aim, however, was off—just like with the grenade launcher earlier. Without a guidance system, the missile veered slightly off-course and smashed into the cave wall beside the bald man. But luck was still on Tony's side. The explosion sent a cascade of debris crashing down, burying the man under a heavy pile of rubble.
Without missing a beat, Tony stepped out of the cave, his entire figure wreathed in flames like an avenging warrior. The fire illuminated the battleground as he unleashed destruction upon the terrorists—along with the Stark Industries weapons they wielded against him.
Outside, watching from a safe distance, Shane finally decided it was time to step in. He opened a shimmering portal and casually stepped through.
---
A short distance away, in the middle of the scorching desert, Yinsen was sprawled on the sand, violently dry-heaving. He felt like he was about to puke up his entire stomach—maybe even his gallbladder, if that were physically possible. Just as he was trying to steady his breath, a glowing circular portal shimmered into existence right in front of him.
Then, a figure walked out.
Yinsen blinked hard. He had to be hallucinating.
"I must've died back in the cave," he muttered to himself. "That's the only explanation. No way I'm having this kind of dream in broad daylight."
Before he could even process what was happening, a massive explosion roared in the distance. The cave erupted into a firestorm, followed by a series of violent detonations. Thick smoke and dust coiled into the sky, forming a mushroom cloud.
Then, from within that fiery chaos, something shot upward. A human-sized figure, missile-like in speed, rocketed into the sky. It climbed high before curving through the air and plummeting fast toward the desert.
Yinsen squinted. "Tony…?"
"Yep, that's him," Shane confirmed. "Come on, Dr. Yinsen. Let's go get him."
Yinsen jerked his head toward him. "Wait. Who the hell are you? How did I even get here? Did you bring me here?"
Shane didn't bother explaining. Instead, he simply snapped his fingers.
In an instant, the desert around them shifted, the scenery blurred—and the next thing Yinsen knew, they were no longer where they had been.
---
"Please… please, I'm begging you! Never do that again! Ugh!"
Yinsen barely had time to register what happened before he hit the ground, dry-heaving all over again. The teleportation had completely wrecked his stomach.
"My bad," Shane said, looking genuinely apologetic. "I forgot you're not used to the pressure from instant teleportation."
Meanwhile, Tony groaned, half-buried in the sand. The impact of his crash had been softened by both his armor and the desert terrain, but he still felt like he'd taken a serious beating. His arm wasn't responding properly. Probably some internal damage. But he was alive. That was the important part.
As he tried to push himself up, he suddenly caught the sound of familiar voices behind him.
Shane. And Yinsen.
"Yinsen? And… who the hell are you?" Tony asked warily, his eyes locking onto Shane with suspicion.
Shane offered a polite nod. "Hello, Mr. Stark. I'm Shane Hunter. Two months ago, Miss Pepper Potts hired me to carry out your rescue mission. Now, the mission is basically complete."
Tony let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "Oh, really? Well, thanks so much for helping me build the suit and blowing up the cave," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. If Shane was really here to rescue him, where the fuck had he been this whole time?! In the end, Tony had to save himself.
Shane didn't take the mockery personally. After all, anyone who had been held captive for months and nearly killed would be beyond frustrated.
Without bothering to explain himself, Shane pulled out a satellite phone and dialed a number. Moments later, a familiar voice answered from across the world.
"Hello? Who is this?"
"Hi, Miss Potts. It's Shane," he said casually.
Tony's head snapped up at the mention of Pepper's name. His exhaustion momentarily forgotten, he scrambled to his feet and turned to Shane, his expression urgent. "Give me the phone right now, and I'll believe you."
Shane simply smiled and shook his head, motioning for Tony to wait.
"Oh my god, Shane! You finally called!" Pepper's voice burst through the receiver. "Rhodes told me you vanished without a trace—I thought something happened to you! Are you okay? What's the situation?"
"Calm down, Pepper. I'm fine. And I have some good news for you."
"What is it?"
Instead of answering, Shane held out the phone toward Tony, who was practically vibrating with impatience.
Tony crossed his arms stubbornly. "Uh… just put it on the ground. I'll pick it up myself." He wasn't one to take things directly from people—except Pepper, of course.
Shane raised an eyebrow, still holding the phone. "Looks like you don't really want to talk to her. Should I just tell her myself?"
Tony's jaw clenched. He hesitated, torn between his pride and the thought of Pepper worrying about him. Finally, he huffed, stepped forward, and snatched the phone from Shane's hand, shooting him an irritated glare.
As Tony and Pepper launched into a rapid exchange of reassurances and concern, Yinsen finally pushed himself off the ground, still feeling slightly nauseous. He turned to Shane, his brow furrowed.
"Who exactly are you?" he asked, skepticism laced in his voice.
Shane smirked. "I suppose I'd count as a Stark Industries security guard… who hasn't officially joined yet."
Yinsen blinked. He had been expecting some kind of mystical explanation—maybe Shane was a sorcerer or a time traveler or something. But… a security guard? From Stark Industries? And one that hadn't even started the job yet? He stared blankly at Shane, who simply grinned, looking as if he was enjoying the confusion.
"Mr. Stark, tell Miss Potts to have your good friend, Colonel Rhodes, track the location of this satellite phone," Shane called out. "That way, they can find us."
"I know!" Tony snapped, barely glancing up from his conversation.
After ending the call, Tony locked eyes with Shane, studying him for a few seconds before finally voicing the question that had been nagging at him.
"Who are you?"
Shane rolled his eyes. Seriously? These days, no one believes the truth.
"Two months ago, I applied for a security job at Stark Industries. I happened to run into Miss Pepper Potts, and she hired me. Then, she sent me here to rescue you. Did I explain it clearly enough this time?"
Tony raised an eyebrow. "So, you're a security guard for Stark Industries, huh? That means I'm your boss?" His lips curled into a smug grin, like he had just found the most important part of Shane's story.
Shane's expression shifted into something more cryptic. "Are you sure you're still in charge of Stark Industries right now?"
Tony's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You'll find out when you get back."
"You freaking—! Shit, that hurts!"
Tony had moved too fast, sending a sharp jolt of pain through his injured arm. Yinsen quickly stepped forward to check on him, but before he could say anything, Shane barely glanced at Tony's arm and casually diagnosed, "Dislocated left shoulder. Minor fracture in the arm."
"You need medical treatment as soon as possible," Yinsen added, confirming the assessment.
"I got this," Shane said, stepping in.
"Wait—Pepper? What are you doing here?" Shane suddenly blurted out, looking behind Tony in mock surprise.
The moment Tony heard Pepper's name, he instinctively whipped his head around. That was all the opening Shane needed—he grabbed Tony's arm and, with a sharp pop, shoved it back into place.
"All done. You can handle the rest," Shane said, nodding at Yinsen.
"F*ck! Damn it, could you at least give me a heads-up next time?!" Tony barked, gritting his teeth. For a split second, he thought he had just met his great-grandmother on the other side.
Yinsen had half-expected Shane to use some kind of mystical technique, but no—just good old-fashioned brute force. He checked Tony's arm again and nodded. "It's back in place. You just need rest now."
Shane dusted off his hands and looked at the two men. "Alright. Anyone in the mood for an ice-cold beer?"
Before either of them could answer, two frosty mugs of beer materialized in his hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He handed one to Yinsen, then smirked at Tony. "You're the patient. Probably best if you skip the alcohol."
Tony opened his mouth for a snarky retort, but the words died on his tongue. His gaze flicked between the mugs, his brain struggling to process what he had just seen.
"Hah! Just give me a f*cking beer."