Chapter 2: Iron Hellfire, Mark II Delivered

After several hours of rough travel, Aetheris was dragged by the armed militants back to their stronghold hidden within the base.

Unlike in the movie, where Tony Stark had been captured gravely injured and clinging to life, Aetheris was brought in unharmed—and taken directly to the leader of the militant group.

A bearded man with streaks of gray in his whiskers, clearly a high-ranking figure among them, approached and stared down at Aetheris with a smug, superior expression.

"Well, well… the mighty billionaire reduced to nothing more than my prisoner," the man sneered, followed by loud, unrestrained laughter.

Ding. Reward distribution in progress—

Ding. Reward distributed. Mark II Hellfire Armor has been delivered. Would the host like to retrieve it now?

A mechanical, emotionless voice from the Divine Choice System echoed in Aetheris's mind.

Damn it, System… do you have a death wish for me? You really think I can summon it in front of everyone right now? Aetheris cursed silently.

The Mark II battle armor wasn't something that could materialize onto him in an instant. It needed to be manually equipped, piece by piece, with a process that took time.

In the movies, Tony Stark suiting up had been an impressive display of mechanical elegance—but this wasn't a movie. The enemies here weren't about to stand around like fools, politely waiting for him to finish getting ready.

"Mr. Stark," the bearded leader began, "how about putting that famous genius brain of yours to work? Build me a few small weapons."

Unlike the original Stark, who had resisted at first, Aetheris agreed immediately, without hesitation.

In the movie, Stark only gave in after being nearly drowned.

"Oh, my dear Mr. Beardy, I would be absolutely honored to serve you," Aetheris replied smoothly, laying on the flattery thick and shameless.

Forget weapons—if you asked me to build you an aircraft carrier right now, I'd agree too!

Even the armed guards standing nearby couldn't bear to listen any longer.

So much for the legendary playboy's reputation—the so-called genius billionaire was nothing but a groveling coward.

"Well then, what are you waiting for? Get to work," the bearded man ordered. He had even prepared a full set of medieval torture devices for Stark, just in case.

Shame he wouldn't get to use them.

"Oh, my dear Mr. Beardy, I'd be more than happy to help. But I'll need an assistant and a place that's absolutely secure and quiet. Surely you can arrange that?" Aetheris requested, adopting the air of an old-fashioned gentleman.

"No problem. Sultan, take Mr. Stark to Yinsen's quarters. I'm sure they'll get along just fine," the bearded man instructed casually.

A young militant, his face mostly obscured by a turban so that only his eyes were visible, stepped forward.

Aetheris gave a slight bow and offered the bearded leader a gentleman's salute before following the militant.

"Boss, are we really just going to let him walk around freely? What about Obadiah?" the second-in-command asked cautiously.

"Let him go? Hah, Tony Stark is a billionaire… and a weapons genius. With him here, we'll have endless wealth and firepower. He'll never leave this place. He'll work for our glorious cause until the end of his days," the bearded man declared, eyes gleaming with fanaticism.

"Move. And don't try anything stupid, or you'll regret it," the young militant warned coldly.

Better to cross the devil than provoke a petty thug, Aetheris thought wryly as he nodded obediently and entered what appeared to be a very familiar cave.

Outside, the desert wind blew, yellow sand clouding the sky under the scorching sun. But inside the cave, the temperature was surprisingly pleasant—cool and comfortable.

A middle-aged man with a balding head was tinkering with some electrical devices, completely ignoring their arrival.

Aetheris recognized him instantly—this was Yinsen, the doctor who had saved Tony Stark's life in the movie.

"Don't try anything dumb," the militant warned again, but neither of them paid him much attention.

Annoyed, the young man slammed the heavy iron door shut and muttered under his breath, probably considering whether to spit in their food later.

"Uh, allow me to introduce myself, I'm—" Aetheris began.

But Yinsen cut him off immediately, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Tony Stark. The legendary weapons developer. Son of Howard Stark. Playboy, billionaire, CEO of Stark Industries, America's largest arms manufacturer."

He ticked off each title as if reading from a résumé.

"You built circuit boards at four. At six, you assembled a V8 engine. By seventeen, you graduated from MIT. The world hails you as a prodigy in science and technology… I've got that right, haven't I, Mr. Stark?"

"Wow, turns out I really am that impressive?" Aetheris grinned, pleased despite the sarcasm.

Getting praised like that felt great. No wonder people loved flattery—it was practically addictive.

Ever since stepping into the cave and seeing the kind-hearted Yinsen, Aetheris finally began to relax.

There was no need to rush to summon the Hellfire Mark II armor just yet. First, he needed to win over Yinsen—the man who, in the movie, had selflessly sacrificed himself.

Yinsen wasn't just a doctor; he was a mechanical genius and a skilled medic. Aetheris knew he'd be an invaluable ally moving forward.

In a world like this, true talent like Yinsen's was rare and precious.

Sure, before Aetheris had taken over this body, Stark had been that kind of talent too… but now? Well, this version of Tony was more like a washed-up has-been.

The creation of the first suit of armor, the Mark I, had been impossible without Yinsen's help.

And even future upgrades would require Yinsen's support. This man was willing to sacrifice everything for others—a rare gem in this brutal world.

"Hello, Dr. Yinsen. Let me get straight to the point," Aetheris said, walking over quickly and grabbing Yinsen's hands, eyes brimming with tears. "I've finally found you, Dr. Yinsen!"

What in the world? Yinsen froze, confused. Don't tell me… Tony Stark's into men too? Are all rich people perverts or what?

Awkwardly, Yinsen pulled his hands free from Aetheris's overly warm grip. "Mr. Stark, please… speak properly. No need for… whatever this is."

"Yinsen, my dear Yinsen, you have to help me!" Aetheris cried, like a wronged child.

"Alright, Mr. Stark, calm down. Tell me what's going on. I'm just an ordinary man with limited skills, but if there's anything I can do, I'll try my best," Yinsen replied kindly. It was in his nature to help others.

"Yinsen, I know a way to get us both out of here," Aetheris whispered, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"What way?" Yinsen asked, instantly intrigued. He knew someone like Stark wouldn't joke—not here, not in this place.

Joking inside a militant base was like lighting a match in a powder keg—just asking for death.

"Keep an eye on the outside for me. I'll need five minutes," Aetheris said firmly, meeting Yinsen's eyes with sincerity.

"Five minutes? I'll do my best," Yinsen nodded without hesitation. He didn't even ask what the plan was.

Maybe it was the instinct of engineers—one look, one shared understanding, and trust was established.

Not like those artsy types… they could talk all day and still say nothing useful.

All Aetheris needed was a bit of noise. A distraction for the guards outside. That's all.

Yinsen grabbed a TIG welder and walked over to the iron door, banging away to create sparks and racket.

The guard outside heard the commotion and peeked in, only to be temporarily blinded by a sudden, dazzling burst of light—nearly frying his eyes.

The five minutes Aetheris asked for were based on ideal conditions.

In the movie, Stark had automated assistance to help him suit up. But right now, Aetheris only had his own two hands.

"System, summon the Mark II Armor!"

Boom!

A set of crimson and gold Hellfire armor materialized inside the cave, gleaming under the dim light.

(End of Chapter)

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