Rescue

Tony Stark. Genius. Playboy. Billionaire. Philanthropist.

At this moment, he was covered in dirt up to his eyebrows, hammering a glowing block of red-hot iron with brute force. Each blow made the cave tremble, echoing like a war drum. His sweaty, grimy body, torn clothes, and hair clinging to his face from the suffocating heathe looked less like the brightest man on the planet and more like a slave forged in the gods' own forge.

And yet, there he was.

Working.

Focused.

Not a single complaint.

Beside him, a gaunt, bald manDr. Yinsenslowly handed him tools, exhausted but determined.

KNOCK KNOCK.

The metallic sound suddenly broke the silence like a gunshot. They froze, then quickly hid everything that shouldn't be seen. Tools, blueprints, parts... all vanished beneath blankets and rocks in seconds.

They waited.

The lock clicked with a mechanical CLACK.

And finally, the door opened.

"What's up?" greeted a man on the other side, as casually as if he were entering a party instead of a prison. He wore a bulletproof vest, military pants, and boots worn from the desert. His relaxed smile contrasted sharply with the tension in the air.

Tony scanned him immediately. U.S. military uniform.

"So what are you? A traitor... or did you come to rescue us?"

"The latter," the newcomer replied, tossing two bulletproof vests and two stolen helmets.

"Put those on. Oh, right." He pulled a phone from his pocket and, without warning, took a picture of Tony. The flash blinded him for a second.

"What the hell was that for!?" Tony shouted, blinking.

"Your stock tanked when they declared you dead. If I show you're alive, it'll shoot back up. I make money... and you, well, you keep breathing. Two birds, one stone. Sound fair?"

"Are you serious?" Tony asked, both confused and annoyed.

"Totally. Also, I know you're going to shut down your weapons division. I've rescued guys like you before. After the trauma, they don't even want to see a gun. They sell everything, move to a beach house, and cry at night. So, before you pull the plug, I'm shorting the stock as much as I can... and I'm going to be rich. Thanks for your service."

"Hey, that's offensive. I'm not some spoiled kid... I'm a billionaire genius, okay?"

"So… you're going to keep making weapons?" Owen asked, locking eyes with him.

"No… but not because of some trauma or anything." Tony looked away. "I'm starting to suspect you arranged my kidnapping just to make money off the stocks."

"Believe me, it'd be easier to torture you right now, get all your account passwords, make you sign a will leaving everything to me… and then kill you. I'm military. They'd probably help me if it meant getting access to all your weapons."

"Now that's scary. I like you," Tony smirked while adjusting the vest.

Yinsen silently followed suit, listening to the exchange with quiet resignation.

"Are you being serious… or just trying to stop me from torturing you?" Owen asked.

"A little of both," Stark shrugged. "Ugh, I made a lot of progress on the suit, but it's still not usable. What a shame…" he said while carefully hiding the blueprints.

"Listen closely," Owen said as he loaded his weapon with military precision. "This place is crawling with enemies. I infiltrated solo to extract you. So if I tell you to jump on a grenade… you do it. Because it'll mean it's the safest option to stay alive. Got it?"

"Jump on a grenade? Technically, we'd still be alive… just missing a leg," Tony muttered sarcastically.

"Don't try to be heroes. Don't pick up enemy weapons. And most importantly… don't piss your pants. If you do, I'll take a picture and post it online. I've done it before," Owen added as he moved toward the exit.

They formed a line: Owen up front, Tony in the middle, Yinsen at the rear.

As they reached a corner, Owen raised a hand to signal a stop, then gave the universal sign for silence. He hugged the wall, crouched like a predator ready to pounce.

Two armed men turned the corner.

It was instant.

Owen lunged at one of them, hurling a knife that buried itself in the neck of the other. He grabbed the first by the head and twisted with a brutal snap.

CRACK.

The second guard only managed a wet gurgle before collapsing.

Owen retrieved the knife and wiped it on the dead man's chest without flinching.

Tony and Yinsen stood frozen, pale as ghosts.

"Let's go," Owen whispered without breaking stride.

He moved like a shadow. Silent. Precise. Deadly.

He had infiltrated before the attack began to ensure Tony wouldn't be used as a hostageor worse, killed in the crossfire. Thanks to a few devices sent by Pepper Potts, he had hacked the security cameras and manipulated the system from inside.

Sure… getting in alone was easier.

Getting out with two extra deadweights? Not so much.

Soon, they were discovered.

And though they moved fast, alarms began to blare.

The guards came in waves. But Owen didn't fire his gunnot yet.

Broken necks, blades through hearts, clean kills.

Tony could only follow him with his eyes, shocked by the cold efficiency.

A soldier.

An assassin.

A savior.

That was Owen.

And if everything went well… he'd be the man who dragged the genius out of his cave.

Owen dropped from the ceiling like a predator lying in wait. His knee came down with brutal force on a terrorist's skull, and from the sickening crunch, he likely shattered it.

Before the second could react, Owen raised his knife with lethal precision. But the shock made the enemy pull the trigger, firing into the ceilingand alerting the entire base.

Without hesitation, Owen slashed his throat, ending his life in an instant.

It was already late. Footsteps echoed through the hallways like war drums.

"Tsk… looks like this won't be easy. Get down, fetal position!" he ordered in a deep voice as he pressed a hidden button on his chest. A direct signal. The attack was about to begin.

And as if hell had broken loose, the walls shook with explosions. Gunfire, screams, and chaos erupted in the distance.

Owen drew a machine gun from his back and pressed against the wall. As soon as he poked the barrel into the hallway, several terrorists appeared. They didn't stand a chance. Bullets pierced their heads with monstrous precision, splattering the wall behind them with blood.

Footsteps were heard on the other side too. Owen spun on his heels, repeated the maneuver, and another group fell like broken dolls.

The enemies retreated behind wooden walls, thinking they were safe. But Owen didn't need to see them. He aimed with surgical accuracy and fired one shot at a time, bullets tearing through the wall as if it were paper. Each shot was followed by a dull thud… bodies dropping.

They tried to return fire. Blind bursts pierced the wood, searching for Owen. But he was already on the ground, motionless, invisible.

With a quick gesture, he signaled Tony and Yinsen to stay silent.

The bullets ran out. Footsteps returned, slow and cautious. The few survivors peeked out… and made their final mistake.

Owen sprang up in a fluid motion, fired a burst, rolled on the ground, and spun sharply, taking down the enemies coming from the opposite end. Not one was left standing.

Outside, the war had begun.

"Let's go," Owen ordered, changing weapons with the cold precision of a professional. He walked forward with firm steps.

Tony and Yinsen followed, stunned. They couldn't help it. What they saw was simply epic.

Every time an enemy appeared, it was like death itself had shown up. One bullet, one clean shot between the eyes. Owen never stopped. He never hesitated. He never missed.

And then… the exit.

Tony stopped for a second, speechless. He immediately recognized several missiles made by his own company. The image hit him like a punch to the gut. But Owen's shout brought him back:

"Run, Stark!"

The billionaire clenched his teeth and followed.

Outside, the last terrorists held their ground… until Owen, emerging from the heart of their base like a ghost, gunned them down from behind without mercy.

Each bullet found its mark, one after another.

Silence.

The base was clear.

Rhodes appeared among the rubble, running toward Tony with a face lit up by relief.

"Tony! It's good to see you alive!" he exclaimed with a smile, looking at his old friend covered in dirt, sweat… and more alive than ever.

But Tony didn't look at him. Instead, he turned with determination toward Owen, who was inspecting the weapon he had just stolen with visible interest.

"Hey… if it's not too much to ask…" Tony said with a shaky but resolute smile. "Could you blow this place up? I'll pay you. I'll pay you a lot more."

One of the mercenaries raised an eyebrow, outraged.

"Are you insane? This place is a war prize! We could make millions from it!"

Owen let out a faint chuckle as he spun the rifle in his hands with almost casual elegance.

"Rich? As long as Stark lives, I've already made my profit…" he murmured, and without wasting time, turned calmly, raised the weapon, and aimed at one of the missiles sticking out of a metal crate.

A single dry shot.

Followed by a thunderous explosion.

In seconds, a chain of detonations lit up the desert sky as if it were midnight during a war. The fire spread voraciously, devouring the weapon stockpiles and shaking the earth beneath their feet.

The mercenaries panicked and began to run, shouting curses into the wind.

"Damn lunatic! That could've made us millions!" one of the leaders shouted, furious.

But before he could continue, one of his companions stopped him, grabbing his arm. He leaned in and whispered something… something that made the leader go pale. Owen, of course, heard them. And he smiled. An arrogant, mocking… deadly smile.

The mercenary leader slowly turned to Owen. His eyes filled with doubt… and fear. As if he had just realized who that man truly was. He had heard the rumors. The black ops. The bodies. The legends.

He swallowed hard.

"Tsk… we're leaving," he spat, without meeting Owen's eyes. "Make sure the payment goes through."

He said it to Rhodes, who had been the one to hire them. Without waiting for a response, the mercenaries left in silence, like dogs who knew they had bitten the wrong wolf.

Owen, without a word, got into the vehicle alongside Rhodes, Yinsen, and Tony. As they drove away, the fire from the destroyed camp reflected on their faces. Tony couldn't stop looking at Owen, this time with more than admiration… with respect.

..........

I know, it lacked action and better fights. But their skills are still in their infancy. They may be stronger than an ordinary person, but they haven't reached Captain America's level yet. Just give them one more month of training. e.e