"Then you really do have a gambling addiction," Deadpool muttered.
Within minutes, the palladium ring was fitted perfectly into the crude electromagnetic housing. Wires connected. Switch engaged.
The device hummed.
Then—
A soft, radiant blue light filled the cave.
The first miniature arc reactor was born.
Tony Stark stared at it in silence.
Ethan stared too.
Deadpool stared hardest.
The glow reflected in his eyes like treasure.
"Tony," Deadpool said slowly, almost reverently, "after we escape… can I have one?"
Tony blinked.
"What do you need it for?"
Deadpool's expression turned serious.
"I want to install it behind my electric meter. No more electricity bills. Ever."
Tony stared at him.
"This device could sell for hundreds of millions of dollars. Nations would fight wars for it. And you want to use it to save utility fees?"
Ethan coughed softly.
Technically… most households did not pay tens of thousands per month.
But this was Tony Stark.
His mansion probably had climate control running all year.
Deadpool waved dismissively.
"Technology serves the people. I am people."
Tony paused.
The words lingered.
Technology serves the people.
Images flashed in his mind.
Missiles.
Explosions.
Weapons stamped with Stark Industries logos.
Used by terrorists.
He went quiet.
Then he nodded once.
"You're right."
Deadpool immediately gave himself a thumbs up.
"See? Genius recognizes genius."
Ethan interrupted quickly.
"Wade, stop. Tony—what's next?"
Tony grabbed several pieces of scrap paper.
He layered them together under the cave light.
As the outlines aligned—
A bulky mechanical silhouette appeared.
The Mark I armor.
The birth of Iron Man.
Ethan exhaled slowly.
"This is insane."
Tony's eyes gleamed.
"Let's build it."
---
Two Days Later
The cave had transformed into a primitive workshop.
Metal scraps.
Wires.
Tools.
Improvised welding torches.
Tony calculated figures on scrap paper.
Ethan handled precision adjustments.
Deadpool… was assigned "less critical" tasks.
Tony preferred to keep him busy.
Mostly to prevent commentary.
Still, doubt crept in.
Tony paused.
"Even if we build this… I'm not sure we can escape."
He looked at Ethan.
"You could survive if you stop. They need you. Your skills."
Ethan didn't hesitate.
"What's the difference between surviving here and dying?"
His voice was quiet.
"Sometimes I think death would be easier."
Tony's jaw tightened.
"I promise you."
His voice became firm.
"You will leave here. You will see your family again."
He remembered Ethan mentioning relatives.
Tony had Pepper.
Deadpool—
Deadpool had chaos.
And no money.
Deadpool suddenly turned his head suspiciously.
He hadn't said anything.
But somehow he felt discussed.
Also—
Why was welding this stupid part so difficult?
Clang.
The sound of a bolt unlocking echoed through the cave.
Tony's face went pale.
He tried to gather the drawings—
Too late.
Ethan's voice cut sharply across the room:
"Wade, shut up!!!"
Deadpool blinked.
"I didn't even speak!"
Discrimination.
Pure discrimination.
The iron door burst open.
Armed men entered in formation.
Behind them—
Raza.
Calm.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
He walked straight toward Tony.
His eyes first scanned the faint blue glow in Tony's chest.
Then he grabbed the scrap papers and held them up to the light.
The bulky armor outline was unmistakable.
His expression darkened.
"What is this?"
Tony swallowed.
"Jericho missile components."
Raza crumpled the paper and threw it at him.
"This is your missile?"
His voice sharpened.
"I spared you. I used resources to save you."
"And this is how you repay me?"
Saved.
Tony nearly laughed.
If not for them, he'd be in New York right now.
Not starving in a cave.
He opened his mouth—
Deadpool stepped forward and pulled him back slightly.
"Leave it to me."
Ethan's eyes widened in warning.
Too late.
Deadpool walked forward confidently.
At 1.88 meters tall, he naturally towered over Raza.
"You may not believe this," Deadpool began calmly, "but we are building missiles."
Raza's eyes narrowed.
Deadpool continued smoothly.
"This cave is primitive. We lack tools. So first—we must build a tool capable of building missiles."
Raza frowned.
Deadpool grabbed a poorly welded metal component from the table.
The weld lines were crooked and uneven.
He held it up.
"You don't want your missiles to look like this, right?"
He ran a finger along the rough welds.
Raza examined it carefully.
He had seen weapons before.
Factory-made.
Smooth.
Precise.
Not crude like this.
Deadpool pressed forward.
"Precision requires equipment. Equipment requires fabrication. Fabrication requires preliminary structure."
Raza remained silent.
Thinking.
Calculating.
Something felt wrong.
But the logic was not entirely flawed.
Deadpool prepared to deliver the finishing blow of persuasion—
Bang.
The gunshot exploded through the cave.
Blood splattered across the stone wall.
Time froze.
Deadpool blinked.
He looked down.
The crude metal component in his hand had shattered.
The bullet had pierced straight through it.
Raza slowly lowered his pistol.
His eyes were no longer doubtful.
They were cold.
"You think I am a fool?"
The metal fragment fell from Deadpool's hand with a hollow clang.
Raza stepped closer.
"You have three days."
He pointed at Tony.
"If the Jericho missile is not completed—"
He gestured toward Ethan.
"He dies."
Silence filled the cave.
Raza turned and walked out.
The armed men followed.
The iron door slammed shut.
The echo lingered.
Tony exhaled slowly.
Ethan's hands trembled faintly.
Deadpool stared at the bullet hole in the wall.
Then he sighed.
"Well."
He turned to Tony.
"On the bright side—"
Tony snapped.
"Wade. Shut up."
Deadpool raised both hands.
"Okay."
For once—
He listened.
Because the countdown had begun.
And now—
The birth of Iron Man was no longer just history.
It was survival.
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