Tony remained on the dirt floor for another minute, clutching his stomach and waiting for the room to stop spinning. His brain, which usually operated like a supercomputer, was currently trying to reboot after experiencing a fatal system error.
"Okay," Tony groaned, wiping his mouth with a soot-stained rag. "Okay. Physics is a lie. Gravity is a suggestion. David Copperfield is a documentary. Got it. Glad we skipped the denial phase."
Ethan dragged a wooden crate over, sat down, and casually crossed his arms. "You adapt fast. I respect that."
Tony finally managed to stagger to his feet, leaning heavily against the workbench. He pointed a trembling finger at Ethan. "If you can open a magical hole in space... why are we still in this cave? Open one of those spark-rings right now. Drop me in Malibu. I'll transfer a hundred million dollars into whatever offshore account you want. Cash, bearer bonds, stock options—name your price."
"I have a mystical black card funded by infinite ancient trusts," Ethan replied, inspecting his fingernails. "Money is kind of a mundane concept to me right now."
Tony stared at him, genuinely baffled. "Then what do you want? Why are you here?"
"I'm here to watch you build that tin can," Ethan said, pointing at the crude, heavy iron suit sitting in the corner.
"Huh? Why?"
"Let's just say I have some circumstances," Ethan shrugged vaguely. "Consider this an essential team-building exercise. A character development retreat. Now, chop-chop. The clock is ticking, and I don't want to miss the finale."
Tony looked like he wanted to punch the floating sorcerer, but he knew he'd probably just end up falling for another ten minutes. He let out a frustrated growl, grabbed a heavy wrench, and turned back to the suit.
"Fine," Tony muttered, aggressively tightening a bolt on the chest plate. "But if I'm doing the heavy lifting, you could at least hand me a screwdriver."
"Sure," Ethan smiled.
He didn't get up. He just raised a hand. "Accio screwdriver."
A Phillips-head screwdriver violently ripped itself off the far table, flew across the cave, and smacked perfectly into Tony's open palm.
Tony jumped, nearly dropping it. He stared at the tool, then glared back at Ethan. "Show-off."
*****
For the next two days, the dynamic in the cave was utterly bizarre.
Tony and Yinsen worked at a feverish, frantic pace. They welded, coded, and hammered the Mark I armor together. Meanwhile, Ethan treated the hostage situation like a luxury VIP lounge. He sat in the corner on his wooden crate, drinking cold sodas he had casually pulled from his dimensional pocket, and occasionally casting Reparo from a distance whenever Tony impatiently snapped a delicate wire.
"Do you have to slurp your drink so loudly?" Tony barked from inside the heavy iron suit, his voice echoing metallically. Yinsen was currently tightening the bolts on the back plate.
"I'm keeping hydrated, Tony. It's a desert," Ethan replied, taking an obnoxiously loud sip of a Coke. "How's the boot sequence looking?"
"Powering up now," Yinsen said nervously, typing at the bulky terminal. The progress bar on the old CRT monitor began to slowly crawl. 10%... 15%...
Suddenly, the heavy iron door at the front of the cave rattled violently. Someone was yelling in Arabic on the other side.
"They know," Yinsen gasped, the color draining from his face. He looked at the monitor. 25%... "The illusion spell—"
"The spell is fine," Ethan said, standing up and stretching his arms. "But they probably noticed you missed your scheduled check-in. Time's up."
BANG! BANG! The terrorists started pounding on the heavy door, shouting harsh orders.
Yinsen looked at the agonizingly slow progress bar. 40%...
"We need more time," Yinsen said, his voice trembling but his eyes hardening with a sudden, tragic resolve. He grabbed a loaded assault rifle from the corner of the cave. "I'll go buy you some time. Get the suit powered up."
He turned to run toward the door.
Crack!
Ethan instantly Apparated, reappearing directly in front of Yinsen and casually plucking the heavy rifle out of the doctor's hands.
"Whoa there, Doc," Ethan said, tossing the gun aside like a plastic toy. "Where do you think you're going?"
"They will kill us!" Yinsen shouted, desperately trying to push past Ethan. "Tony needs time! It's my family—I'm going to see them anyway. Let me do this!"
"Your family is dead, Yinsen. Walking into a hail of bullets isn't going to bring them back, and honestly? Your dramatic sacrifice is getting in the way of my screen time," Ethan said bluntly. He grabbed Yinsen by the collar of his worn shirt and forcefully shoved him behind the massive anvil. "Sit down. Stay out of the line of fire. You're not dying today."
"But the door—!"
BOOM!
A massive explosion ripped the iron door off its hinges, sending a cloud of dust and shrapnel flying into the cave. Several heavily armed Ten Rings terrorists poured through the smoke, their rifles raised.
"Alright, Tony," Ethan called out over the ringing in their ears. "Suit's at 80%. I'll handle the appetizers. You get ready for the main course."
Ethan didn't retreat. He stepped forward into the billowing smoke, a dangerous, arrogant grin spreading across his face.
"Let's see how you guys like the loadout," Ethan muttered.
He raised his right hand, pointing his index and middle fingers like a gun. He channeled the explosive intent of his inherited magical core.
"Confringo!"
A blinding orb of fiery kinetic energy shot from his fingertips. It hit the leading terrorist squarely in the chest.
The explosion was contained but utterly devastating. The kinetic force folded outward, blowing the man backward with the force of a freight train and shattering the assault rifles of the three men standing behind him.
The remaining terrorists froze, staring in total shock at the man in designer jeans who was shooting actual energy blasts out of his bare hands.
Before they could recover, Ethan swept his left hand in a wide, practiced arc. Kamar-Taj magic flared to life. A glowing orange whip—the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak—lashed out from his palm, wrapping tightly around the ankles of two terrorists. Ethan yanked his arm back, ripping their legs out from under them and sending them crashing hard into the rocky cave wall.
One of the terrorists in the back panicked and pulled the trigger of his AK-47, spraying bullets blindly into the smoke.
Ethan didn't flinch. He just flicked his wrist.
A perfect, geometrically flawless Tao Mandala shield flared to life on his forearm, deflecting the barrage of bullets with a shower of golden sparks and flattened lead.
"What's wrong?" Ethan laughed, letting the shield spin lazily on his arm while his other hand crackled with raw magic. "Never seen a wizard with a concealed carry permit before?"