[Third Person's PoV]
Spider-Man zipped around the cave in a bluish blur one final time before skidding to a stop between Tony and Yinsen. His suit's lenses glowed a fierce electric blue, crackling and sparking with the excess energy he had generated during his rapid movement. The effect was unsettling, giving him a ghostly, almost otherworldly appearance.
Tony quirked an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
"What's with the eyes, Princess Sparkles?" he asked, crossing his arms and giving Peter a curious look.
Peter let out a long sigh, pulling his hood down further. "When I run or rather use my super speed— I generate power and I build up an internal charge. If I store too much energy inside me, theoretically... I could explode. So, I have to release it in small bursts to avoid, y'know, turning into a human firework."
"Sounds like a huge waste of power," Tony said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. But he quickly waved the comment away, his focus shifting to something far more important.
Against the wall stood their masterpiece: the completed Iron Man Mark I suit, a towering, rough, and imposing piece of machinery, all cobbled together from scrap metal and spare parts. It wasn't polished, it wasn't pretty—but it was theirs. It was survival.
"This..." Tony began proudly, pausing as he glanced at both Yinsen and Peter, a rare, genuine emotion flashing in his eyes. "This is our greatest creation yet."
"I've made better," Peter said under his breath, almost reflexively.
Tony turned his head toward Peter with a slow, dangerous tilt, narrowing his eyes. The sudden silence was tense, stretching long enough for Peter to fidget awkwardly on the spot, regretting ever opening his mouth.
Then Tony scoffed and grinned. "You haven't seen anything yet. This—this is just the beginning. Built in a cave, with a box of scraps. Wait until I get back to my lab. Then you'll see what real innovation looks like."
Peter chuckled and placed a reassuring hand on Tony's shoulder. "Sincerely, Tony? I look forward to that day."
Tony allowed himself a brief, genuine smile before clapping both Peter and Yinsen hard on the chest. "Come on, boys. Time to suit me up. I think Yinsen and I have spent more than enough time under house arrest."
Both Peter and Yinsen nodded in agreement. Together, they moved to the armor, opening its heavy plates to prepare it for Tony to step into. The process was clunky and manual, but they worked quickly and efficiently, a silent understanding passing between them.
The first step was connecting the small, but powerful, Arc Reactor embedded in Tony's chest directly into the suit's core systems. Peter placed his hand over the Arc Reactor and released a precise pulse of accumulated energy to jumpstart the connection.
"GUH!" Tony gasped, tensing violently before sagging in relief, his chest rising and falling heavily.
"Are you okay?" Yinsen asked with concern, adjusting a few settings on the suit.
"Yeah... Yeah, just... weird sensation, that's all," Tony muttered, flexing his fingers before inserting his arms fully into the protective metal sleeves.
He rolled his shoulders, moved his arms, wiggled his fingers, and then clenched his fists experimentally. The suit responded, slow but sure, to his movements.
"It's working!" Tony said with a boyish grin of excitement. "Lock me in!"
Peter and Yinsen worked swiftly, sealing the various plates into place, encasing Tony fully within the heavy armor. Peter reached up and slammed the thick metal faceplate down into position with a satisfying clang, then rapped his knuckles against it.
"Alright, Tin Man," Peter said playfully. "Ready to go see the Wizard of Oz?"
Tony's voice came through the external speaker slightly muffled, distorted by the machinery. "Har, har. You're just hilarious with these references, aren't you?"
"Being funny's part of the job description, I'm afraid," Peter replied with a smirk. "Now, you ready to test your mobility?"
With Tony's confirmation, Peter and Yinsen quickly disconnected the suit from the makeshift support frame. Freed from its tethers, the Iron Giant took one thundering step forward—then another. The heavy steps echoed off the walls of the cave, and dust rained down from the ceiling with every footfall.
He moved in a slow, lumbering trot, the suit hunched and awkward, swinging its arms with each step like a mechanical gorilla.
"Alright," Tony called out, adjusting his gait slightly. "I think I'm getting the hang of this."
A few steps later, his tone grew more serious. "We've stalled long enough. Time to break out of here. Spider-Man, your job is to keep Yinsen safe while I charge ahead."
Peter gave him a mock salute. "Understood, General Tin Man."
He stepped beside Yinsen and placed a hand on the older man's shoulder. Instantly, both Peter and Yinsen began to shimmer and fade, becoming almost completely transparent. It was an eerie sight—both their bodies flickering in and out of visibility like ghosts.
Tony stumbled back a step inside the suit. "Uh... what the hell?"
"Don't worry about us," Peter's voice said, disembodied. "Just do your thing, Rust Bucket. We'll be right behind you."
Tony nodded grimly inside the helmet. He turned toward the heavy metal door that had kept him prisoner for months, the barrier between captivity and freedom. He took a deep breath, cocked his large metal fist back...
...and with a mighty swing, he punched the door clean off its hinges. It flew backward with a deafening bang, slamming against the far wall. Dust, dirt, and debris exploded into the air, clouding the room. Shouts rang out in foreign tongues, echoing sharply through the twisting caves.
Tony didn't hesitate. With slow, thunderous steps, he advanced into the chaos, every movement fueled by a surge of adrenaline and rage. In the clunky, battered Mark I armor, he felt invincible.
No one was going to chain him down again.
Not today.
Not ever.
Terrorists soon rounded the corner, their weapons raised and fingers tight against their triggers, yet they faltered, freezing in disbelief at the sight before them. A lumbering behemoth of metal, a crude yet menacing figure, bulldozed forward through the dimly lit cave, its every step shaking the ground beneath them. There was no urgency in its movements—only a steady, inevitable march.
The first wave of bullets came screaming through the dusty air, striking the Iron Giant's body with sharp metallic pings. Sparks burst forth, momentarily illuminating the cavern in flickering flashes. Yet the crude iron armor shrugged it all off like raindrops against a fortress wall.
Tony pressed forward, unshaken. With a mechanical roar of effort, he drew back one massive, iron-clad fist and swung it with all the momentum of a wrecking ball. His knuckles tore through the cavern wall, sending chunks of rock and debris flying, and smashed into the nearest terrorist. The poor man was launched off his feet, colliding brutally with the opposite wall, his weapon clattering uselessly to the ground. Without slowing, Tony backhanded another attacker, sending him spiraling into unconsciousness.
Without missing a beat, Tony raised his right arm. The palm ignited, and a torrent of searing flames exploded outward. He swept his arm back and forth like a flamethrower operator, filling the air with the agonizing shrieks of those caught in the inferno. The thick, acrid stench of burning flesh choked the cavern, clinging to everything like an invisible fog.
More assailants appeared, this time hefting shoulder-mounted rocket launchers, desperation etched into their faces. They fired hastily—but before the rocket could find its mark, a sudden web shot from seemingly thin air. The webshot intercepted the rock midair, and the rocket detonated prematurely, blasting the terrorists off their feet and rattling the very foundations of the cave.
Another rocket streaked directly toward Tony. With little time to react, he merely crossed his arms in front of his chest, bracing for impact. The explosion engulfed him in fire and smoke, shaking the ground—but as the smoke cleared, Tony remained standing. His armor was scorched black, cinched and smoking in places, but otherwise intact. He merely staggered back a step, unaffected.
"You alright, man?!" Peter's voice rang out from somewhere behind him, invisible among the chaos.
"Hahaha! I've never been better!" Tony barked out a laugh. His face, though drenched in sweat, bore a wild grin, his eyes burning with fierce determination.
The battle raged on. Explosions and screams echoed endlessly in the cavernous halls as Tony plowed forward like an unstoppable force of nature. Spider-Man, still cloaked in invisibility, diligently guarded their rear, webbing down enemies before they could even react.
At some point, Yinsen—normally so calm and reserved—grabbed a discarded rifle off the ground. Letting out a primal, almost animalistic yell, he began spraying bullets wildly in every direction toward any terrorist daring enough to approach.
Peter paused, stunned at the sight. Yinsen looked almost possessed. When the rifle eventually clicked empty, Yinsen lowered it, his chest heaving with each labored breath. He wiped his forehead with a shaking hand and offered Peter an apologetic glance.
"Forgive me... I don't know what came over me. I needed... I needed to get that out of my system," Yinsen said, voice shaky but sincere.
"There's... there's nothing to apologize for," Peter reassured him, clapping him gently on the shoulder. "Come on, we're almost out of here."
Despite the composed front he put on, Peter wrestled internally with the chaos surrounding him. Rationally, he knew that violence in this situation was unavoidable—that some deaths, however ugly, were necessary to survive. Yet a bitter part of him still recoiled. No matter how evil these men were, no matter how justified the retaliation, he could not entirely turn off that piece of himself that sympathized, that part of him that tells him that everyone at least deserves a shot at redemption.
It was part of himself he hated most of all. He hated his ability to feel compassion for even the worst kinds of people. It was a weakness he wished he could silence.
"Grow up, goddammit..." Peter muttered under his breath, grinding his teeth as he kept guiding Yinsen forward.
"What was that?!" Yinsen shouted, struggling to hear over the gunfire and distant explosions.
"Nothing! I just said we're almost out of here!" Peter hollered back.
And he wasn't wrong. Ahead, a faint glow of natural sunlight seeped into the otherwise murky darkness. A true light at the end of the tunnel. Salvation was close.
But danger still lurked. One last gunman, ragged and desperate, emerged from behind, his rifle aimed straight toward Tony—and unknowingly, also at the now-visible Yinsen.
Peter reacted instantly. He acted so quickly he didn't even let a chance for Yinsen to gain visibility. He fired a quick web at the terrorist's face, grabbing the strand with his other hand, Peter yanked down sharply, slamming the man into the hard ground with a heavy thud that left him motionless.
Tony, still charging forward, barreled into another terrorist who dared stand in his way. With a brutal kick, Tony sent the man flying, snapping his spine with a sickening crunch.
And then, finally, Tony Stark stepped into the sunlight.
He slowed, almost stumbling, as the warm rays of the sun kissed his battered armor. He lifted his head, closing his eyes and basking in the feeling of freedom—a sensation he hadn't tasted for what felt like an eternity.
For months, he had been held captive, broken down physically and mentally. Yet here he stood, defiant and alive, having clawed back his freedom with his own two hands, in a suit he forged from pain, ingenuity, and stubborn hope.
He had done it.
He was free.
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+5 advance Chapters on: patreon.com/Shadow_D_Monarch3
(A/N: it's crazy that we're almost at 300 chapters and it's just now that Iron man 1 is starting)