Latest Update:Nov 15, 2022
Summary: A Sith's ghost merges with Tony Stark after he was kidnapped by the Ten Rings in Afghanistan.
Link: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/14144255/1/The-Iron-Sith-V2-SWMCU
Word count:87k
Chapters:24
The Iron Sith
Prologue I: Rebirth
Part 1
=IS=
The Mad Titan Thanos spent centuries razing planets and murdering at least half their population in his insane quest to save the universe. Here and there, wise people and madmen alike spoke for a second purpose behind his madness.
Thanos, the Mad, courted Death herself. His insane quest would salve the people of the universe by ensuring there were more resources for the survivors. The trials endured by those who lived would ensure they were hardened people, ready to face a cruel universe. At the same time, with every atrocity his armies committed, Thanos offered a gift of souls to Death herself.
For untold centuries, Thanos the Mad built up his armies. With every ravaged world, he added to his numbers. Thanos then retreated from the known universe to train and overhaul his armies into a force few could ever hope to survive facing.
In the end, those armies and their canny leaders allowed Thanos to emerge victorious not once but twice.
Half the universe died twice. Then countless galaxies burned in the flames of war and the strife that followed.
The universe didn't like that. A bargain was struck—a weapon born from the universe that was before emerged.
It was fitting. It was proper.
A legacy of blood and war found its way to the hands of the Merchant of Death. Power stirred, purring in anticipation. The ghost of a long-dead warlord returned, awoken by six fallen stars, which were the last remnants of his universe.
In a forgotten cave, in a country of little consequence, on a primitive world, the Merchant of Death received an impossible gift.
The universe liked that.
=IS=
a cave in Afghanistan
time unknown
Tony laid on an uncomfortable coat, shaking with fever. His hands twitched, ready to tear off the thick cable under his shirt. There was virtually not a single position he could sit or lay in that could make him forget, even for a moment, the device Yinsen stuck into his chest.
The bruises from the beating that nearly killed him by incident hurt something fierce. If it weren't for his still healing wounds, the electromagnet, and the odd man who saved him, the beating and torture would have been much worse. Stark shook with pain. He wasn't sure how much of it was real and how much of it was his nerves burning with phantom sensations. He could recall lying barely conscious while someone cut into his chest. The burning agony was beyond anything Stark had the misfortune to experience until then. Even thinking about it made his skin crawl and his hands shake harder.
When Tony closed his eyes, he saw young soldiers die around him. He could see one of his weapons land in front of him, and there was only pain.
Stark shuddered, feeling cold, yet he kept sweating as if he was stuck in a sauna. His eyes cracked open, and he stared at the small ornate cube lying on his stomach. It was pleasantly cool. He wasn't sure what it was made of. Gems of various sizes and colors were embedded in its side, making it look like an ancient toy, like a Rubik's cube made for royalty.
Tony didn't know how this thing found its way in one of the pallets with weapons and equipment his captors brought into the cave so that he could build them weapons. It was so out of place here. Why didn't his captors sell it for money, to buy more weapons, whatever terrorists liked?
Perhaps it was the delirium, but the little odd thing called to Tony. He traced strange symbols carved into the cube's otherwise smooth surface. He touched the crystals as if they were the keys of a keyboard, pressing them without thinking.
The cube suddenly clicked and shifted as if alive. Tony's lidded eyes just stared in disbelief as the cube rose in the air over his chest and opened, revealing a crystal matrix.
Tony beheld eternity.
Around the cave, shadows came alive. They covered Tony's cot like a blanket, hiding him from sight. Yet, neither Yinsen, who was busy cooking, nor the Ten Rings' operative watching the cameras noticed anything out of the ordinary.
Tony's fever broke, replaced by ice water washing through his veins. He could feel echoes of Power and a keening lament for a world now lost. The crystal matrix exploded with pulsing light, chased by ravenous darkness. It shifted and changed in front of Tony's eyes. His mind cleared for a brief moment, and he knew he saw a neural matrix not so different from Jarvis' electronic mind. He had just enough time to blink in astonishment mixed with confusion before the matrix shot at his face. The shadows swallowed Stark's startled yelp, making it inaudible for anyone else.
Memories, not his own, flooded Tony's mind.
He was just an ordinary, dimwitted man, on an Earth, not his own. He was in a shuttle, in space, about to arrive at a massive space colony.
He was a dead man walking, fighting a war, not his own, for a cause he didn't believe in!
Tony Stark screamed and clawed at the memories. This wasn't right! He could feel himself change! He could feel hatred and sorrow. He could feel a slowly growing attachment to a nation that didn't exist! Tony was slowly falling for a woman he had never met. He could recall the sweet scent of her hair, the soft touch of her skin, the taste of her lips! He kept fighting in that insane war to stop madness and genocide. To save a woman Tony Stark wouldn't have fallen for. He fought and killed. He fought and nearly died until Death finally claimed him.
For a brief moment, soothing darkness engulfed Tony's mind. Was the nightmare over?
He was somewhere else. He was someone else now. Fury and indignation exploded within Tony's chest. He was a slave now! He could feel his master's energy whip striking his scarred back. Rage, like no other, engulfed his whole world. There was a power he could reach. It was a cold, vicious thing that responded to his rage. Without thinking, Tony grabbed it and struck at his tormentor, splattering him all over a nearby wall.
The memories kept coming, slowly drowning him. Tony Stark… He could barely remember who he was as more memories burned into his brain.
As little more than a slave, he arrived on a cursed, desert world. An alien world! Humans and aliens surrounded him as he walked out of a shuttle to meet an Overseer, a Sith Overseer.
Then, Tony knew hell. He knew what it was for someone to utterly break and reforge him into a weapon, now loyal to a cause that would have never been his.
He became a murderer, a monster. He was a bounty hunter. He was a spy. He was a Sith who set the galaxy on fire.
Years, decades of memories etched themselves upon his brain, becoming as real as everything Tony Stark had ever experienced. A frozen fire burned through his veins, reshaping his body, while power gleefully sang in anticipation.
Years of hell and madness turned into decades. He knew love and loss. He knew rage the likes of which no human should be able to experience, much less wield as a weapon.
He was part of a Triumvirate that brought a galactic super-power to its knees, shattering its armies and breaking its protectors. It was his hour of triumph and vengeance when a cruel universe plucked him from his time, only to send him to a far-flung future.
The galaxy was on fire again. Clones and Droids clashed against each other on countless worlds. Logistics broke down, and trillions died for lack of basic necessities, and that was before the war escalated into sheer madness. Impossible biological weapons ravaged whole worlds. Planets burned. A gas giant ignited with the rage of a mini-nova.
The war only got worse from that point on.
He felt betrayed. A lover who might have become something more turned on him, even as he single-mindedly pursued a political marriage and power, while blind to the consequences of his actions. She was a stunning alien woman who cut off his hand. In vicious retaliation, he used her tortured spirit to murder a world.
There was no end to the horrors drowning Tony Stark.
He was the Merchant of Death, the most famous mass murderer in American history. It was fitting that Tony Stark merged with the raging ghost of
the most infamous mass murderer in a whole galaxy.
His fever broke. In a pocket dimension, power purred in anticipation. Wisps of damnation slowly began to spread through Midgard and would soon race across the universe.
The man who used to be Tony Stark opened his eyes. He could remember everything: all the pain, loss, and betrayal. He could feel the Force, even if it was thin like late morning's mist burning in the shining rays of a rising sun.
It had been a long time, yet his memories recognized this place. He knew where he was. He knew someone had betrayed him, even if he couldn't recall who had done it. He knew a war was coming, a madman who would burn half the universe with a snap of his fingers. He barely recalled a smug, purple face and six shards of Infinity.
He was a captive now, at the mercy of a bunch of terrorists. His face twisted into a vicious, hateful snarl. The terrorists were all going to die screaming! No one dared to try and control him! He sacrificed too much and fought too hard to be the one in control of his fate!
Piercing pain in his chest gave him pause. It was a stark reminder of his situation. The way he had been shaking with unrestrained rage did his abused body no favors. He closed his eyes and slowly drew as much of the Force within himself, using his rage as a catalyst to begin healing himself.
The Force was like a newborn kitten. It was thin, hard to grasp, and weak. Yet, it was here, and sang happily at his touch.
=IS=
Part 2
=IS=
a cave
somewhere in Afghanistan
A combination of meditation and stewing with barely contained rage helped me guide the Force so that I could heal faster. At this point, I lacked the raw power and possibly the finesse to try taking out the shrapnel pieces in my chest. That would have to wait, even if it were a vulnerability I despised.
Fortunately, that helped me maintain my fury and thus get more of the thin Force in this place than I otherwise could have. Thinking about my current situation helped as well.
Kriffing terrorists! The bastards dared almost kill me with my weapons! Whoever made a buck selling Stark weapons to those dead men walking would rue the day they were born!
I took a rasping breath and forced my fury down. While anger was helpful, I was the one in control, not my rage! It was a tool, nothing more!
With the state of the Force here, I had barely enough power to rival the lowest of the low Jedi Padawan or Sith Acolyte. My powers would be insufficient to get me out of this by themselves, even if it wasn't for my wound. I would need proper combat equipment.
I was Tony Stark. I was also a Dark Lord of the Sith familiar with alien technology thousands of years more advanced than almost anything else on this Earth. Given enough time and resources, everything was possible!
It was an odd sensation to catch myself going into what Pepper and Happy called Stark Mode. Note, not Tony Mode, Stark mode. Tony mode was when I got drunk like a bloody imbecile and went out partying like I was the useless child of a Sith Noble with more money than sense.
Stark Mode was when I closed off myself to the world so I could lose myself in designing and tinkering with stuff.
A weird mix of emotions gripped my heart. On the one hand, Pepper, Happy, and even my bestest of best friends, Rhody, were people I knew from a movie I watched so long ago it wasn't even funny. Yet, even as self-centered as I was, as Tony Stark was, they were among the most important people in the world for me. Aunt Peggy, Obby, and a handful of others as well. I would see the world burn before I let anyone hurt them!
A bitter chuckle escaped my lips. The memories of the kriffing Sith, of all things, gave me perspective. I've been hurting and endangering my friends and family without thinking or caring about the world. For I was fucking Tony Stark!
Who would have thought Tony Stark had almost as much baggage as a Dark Lord of the Sith? There was enough of it to drive all the therapists in California to drink and a few tons to spare. Howard Stark's A+ class parenting was likely even worse than my own, which was saying something.
Focus, I snapped to myself in my head. First, I had to get myself free. Anything else wouldn't matter until then. I needed weapons; I needed armor. I had people kill in novel and terrible ways.
I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and then slowly exhaled. A few old mental exercises helped me get into a more reasonable mental state.
I could smell sweat and dust. Blood, likely mine. Machine oil and metal. The familiar, almost pleasant acrid smell of chemical explosives and rocket fuel. I opened my eyes and slowly sat up. The wounds in my chest twitched as if a razor blade cut deeply into my flesh. The bruises from the beating were numb but still there.
"You're up, I see. How much do you remember, Mr. Stark? You were delirious after our gracious hosts had worked you up."
Ah, yes. Yinsen. His presence was familiar in the Force, almost comforting. I could sense no danger coming from him—just pain and bitterness.
"Magnet in my chest. Someone wanted me to build weapons?" I did my best to blink owlishly as if I didn't quite remember.
Yinsen grimaced. Parched skin stretched over his gaunt face at his grave expression, and he slowly nodded. He wore a suit of a decent cut, which was cheap. The clothes were both something I hadn't seen in ages, yet familiar enough from my last European visit. I vaguely remembered Eastern Europeans wearing such cheap clothes I wouldn't be caught dead in as I dragged myself into giving a lecture on something. I was too drunk to remember correctly.
Force damn it, from my jumbled memories, it appeared that I spent most of the past decade getting wasted or stuck in my basement doing science. I was mostly getting wasted. Sometimes laid too, but that wasn't something I could clearly recall. Because drinking more than the average drunk was something Tony Stark did with aplomb.
My fury spiked at that waste of time. The drinking, I mean, not the getting laid. One was a constructive way to indulge your passions, the other not so much.
I shook my head and got my attention back to Yinsen. He examined me from behind his glasses, which hid his eyes. Flames from a crude stove reflected from them. Ah, that was where the smell of cooking food came from.
"Yes, I got all the shrapnel I could, but there was some I couldn't reach." Yinsen eventually nodded. "Do you remember that, Mr. Stark?"
"Yes, you did what you could given the circumstances. I do owe you one." I nodded. If feasible, I would get him out of here alive for saving my life. If not, I would have yet another reason to murder the bloody bastards who dared keep me prisoner.
There was shouting coming from outside. The language was not one I was familiar with. After a lifetime away from Earth, it sounded almost alien to me. Something Arabic perhaps, but not quite? Tony's memories weren't much help in that regard.
Yinsen blanched and jumped to his feet.
"This time, do what I do and don't provoke them! You might not survive another beating!" Yinsen frantically demanded.
I drew on the Force, pushing my rising fury into it. I needed clarity of purpose. That much the Force could give me even in its odd state.
Yinsen hurried to my cot, picked up the car battery attached to my chest, then carefully brought it to the center of the cave while urging me to follow. I slowly got up.
The pain running through my body was alien, horrifying, yet an old acquaintance I could easily ignore.
The doors opened with a screech, pointing that no one bothered to oil them properly. It was likely a safety measure to ensure prisoners wouldn't be able to sneak out quietly if someone fucked up and forgot to lock up properly.
A group of shabby men burst in, brandishing weapons. I've seen more than enough terrorists and freedom fighters to evaluate them quickly. Most of them were young, angry, and eager. They had a mixture of venerable AK variants and state-of-the-art Stark carbines. Notably, it was the two older and more experienced among the group who had the better weapons. Those two appeared to know what they were doing. The way the rest held their guns revealed their lack of training.
Indignation lanced through me at the realization that right now, this bunch of goons was a deadly threat. I buried it deep and kept it off my face.
A large bearded man walked in after the cannon fodder and smiled wildly when he saw me standing.
"Tony Stark!" The leader of this bunch opened his hands as if greeting an old friend. All I could recognize from his words was the name and his delight at seeing me on my feet. It was a vicious kind of delight.
"Did you reconsider?" Yinsen translated. "Will you build us weapons?"
"From what I see, you already have a lot of weapons," I noted in a neutral tone.
Yinsen glanced at me before translating. I could sense his relief that I wasn't antagonizing our captors for a second time.
Getting beaten to a pulp again would be of no utility.
"Jerico missiles!" Yinsen translated the bastard's words. "You'll build us your Jericho missiles to kill infidels with!"
"I will build them with what tools exactly?" I pointedly looked around the cave.
The dead man walking beamed even harder at me. If I could, I would be choking the life out of him right now. He barked something to his goons, and they soon dragged us outside.
I noted the way out and the defensive positions the terrorists had set up in the cave. We got out soon enough, and I winced at the bright, burning sunrays washing over me. It took me long moments to adjust to the blinding light.
"We have weapons and tools." Yinsen grimly translated.
Meanwhile, I checked how many bastards were there to kill and what defensive positions they had. Outside alone, I could see about a platoon of the bastards. Some were busy training. Others sat into weapon nests surrounded by sandbags and covered with camouflage net. There were a couple of dozen pallets with SI weapons I could see at a glance. I was sure there were more weapons in the caves as well.
This was a nice operation the bastards had here. It was large enough the US military should have detected it with a satellite, a recon plane, or a drone. I should know! I sold them state-of-the-art satellites, drones, and sensor packages.
This setup stank more than a slimy amorous Hutt.
Whoever set me up and ensured no one found me would suffer my wrath.
"He wants to know what you think," Yinsen explained the beard man's babbling.
"This is a good start." I waved at the weapons and smiled. I was going to use them to murder the kriff of the smug bastard. "I will still need tools and precision equipment. A computer or two as well." I looked at my fellow captive. "Yinsen, tell him I will make him something extraordinary if he tells me who sold me out."
The terrorist leader laughed.
"Perhaps if you build him a working missile, he will consider it."
The bearded man smiled wildly at us, revealing two rolls of perfect teeth. I've seldom seen such teeth, even among European movers and shakers. It was more of an american thing, and movie stars the world over. In a shitholle like this one? If it were practical, I would love to interrogate this man. I was sure he would have invaluable insights into my current situation.
"He says he'll let us go when you build him enough missiles. And he
might tell you what you want if you build him something exceptional."
"No. He will not." I told Yinsen while giving the bastard a patented Tony Stark smile.
I didn't need the Force all but screaming at me that the terrorist was gleefully lying.
"No, he won't." Yinsen nodded at me with a forced smile.
Well, it was time to build me some weapons and armor and then turn this place into a graveyard. I looked back at the pile of assorted Stark Industries goodies, and my smile widened.
=IS=
Part 3
=IS=
A cave slash an irritated Sith's workshop
somewhere in Afghanistan
The red flags kept coming. By that first evening, a proper workshop was taking place. The faster the terrorists managed to set up something useful, the more backing they likely had. For hours, groups of young cannon fodder kept bringing explosives, missiles, rockets, and even artillery shells. Soon they filled much of the cave with anything and everything else you needed to fight a small war, barring small arms. Much of the weapon came from SI, though there was a lot of old soviet surplus as well.
The reverse was true as far as tools were concerned. They kept bringing all kinds of old basic kits. What got my attention was the odd plastic boxes with modern, new tools. Those were precision-manufactured German instruments and some Russian of much lower quality but still serviceable.
Beard man even promised we would get everything else we needed by this time tonight before locking us in.
That was how I was sipping odd-tasting tea while Yinsen stared at me as if I were a particular odd lab specimen.
"I'm surprised, Mr. Stark. I didn't think you would agree to build them more weapons." He lowered his head, and his glasses glinted in the twilight of the cave.
It appeared that even if the Force in this place, perhaps this universe, was thin, it did nothing to diminish my emphatic abilities. I could sense my companion's genuine curiosity.
"What's your proper name anyway? I can't recall it quite right."
Yinsen grimaced. "They really beat the crap out of you, Mr. Stark. I'm Ho Yinsen. Dr. Ho Yinsen." He introduced himself.
"I'm Dr. Anthony Stark, but you already knew that. Call me Tony, Dr. Yinsen. We're stuck in this mess together."
"It's Ho then, Tony. You didn't answer my question." Yinsen pointed out.
"I don't feel like dying just yet. We both know what would happen if I don't build them something." I smirked at him. "You did warn me to behave myself this time."
Yinsen slowly nodded. "That I did. Yet, I can't help but wonder…." He stared through me with a faraway look. "Is this it? Is this how you want to be remembered, Tony? Is this going to be your legacy? Making weapons?"
He felt genuinely curious and very bitter.
"I need time to make something to keep me better alive. Then we make ourselves a way out of here." I pointedly looked at all the weapons around us.
Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to give Tony Stark this many weapons and then try to keep him as a kriffing slave? I didn't know who backed these terrorists, but they or the people behind them seriously underestimated me. Then again, Tony Stark was a drunken playboy who hadn't really experienced hardship like this. I could see how people might think I would easily break and do as ordered.
Yinsen did take a good look around us. There was a not particularly small arsenal in here with us. Then he looked at me and raised his eyebrows in speculation.
I gave him a small salute with my can of tea.
For the first time since I saw him, his eyes sparkled with something beyond bitter regrets tempered by curiosity and a bit of determination.
"I forgot to ask, who are our esteemed hosts?"
"They are your loyal clients." Yinsen nodded at a nearby rack holding rockets with the Stark Industries logo. "They call themselves the Ten Rings."
"I've heard much worse names," I noted absentmindedly. From what I saw, the terrorists here didn't have the vehicles to use many of my weapons properly. Without the proper launch platforms, it would be much cheaper and practical to buy older Soviet, Russian or Chinese ordnance to use.
Thinking about it, this looked more like a transit hub for a larger smuggling operation guarded by local muscle. The Taliban and their Ten Rings buddies would likely get a cut of the weapon they defended and some cash to grease the wheels.
=SI=
The next evening we had a fully functional workshop ready, complete with two US military laptops, CAD programs, printers, and other useful bits. The Ten Rings mooks even brought in bleeding edge equipment, I recognized. It was from a shipment supposed to overhaul parts of one of SI's older manufacturing plants in California. As far as anyone was aware until now, a highway crash turned most of the equipment into scrap.
The crash was real. It was also crystal clear it was meant to cover up the theft.
There was no doubt now someone with a lot of reach and influence pulled the strings of my captors. Likely an organization.
The next day, shortly after we began disassembling ordnance for parts, the super-beard man came to visit to check up on us. That, combined with the cameras, led me to an obvious conclusion. In this universe, timeline, or whatever this was, Tony Stark, as he was, would have been unable to build himself a knock-off power armor covertly. I would be sure in a few days if the inspections continued.
That was likely why my Holocron ended down here. I still had no idea how it ended in a different galaxy, likely a long time in the future.
We kept working, and beard-man kept visiting. You got to love competent opposition.
During his fifth visit, I patted Yinsen on the back and told him to translate.
"I know what to build for you!" I told our captor while giving him Tony's Number One crazy smile. "Do you want to be a walking tank with all the guns?"
Yinsen stared at me in shock. I had to shove his shoulder and nod eagerly at our captor. Let them think Tony the playboy cracked under pressure and went for salvation in tinkering shit.
Yinsen eventually translated my words. Beard man vibrated with hungry anticipation.
"I'm going to make you a super-duper power armor! You'll be the envy of terrorists all around the world!" I proclaimed happily as if Christmas just came in early.
We were going to build a power armor in the open, and our captors would happily help us with the heavy lifting. Meanwhile, I would heal, strengthen my body, and prepare to strike when ready.
=SI=
SHIELD facility Titan
location classified
The noise of dozens of construction crews and heavy machinery ensured no one could overhear them. A few more precautions covered long-range observation and old-fashioned stunts like lip-reading.
That was one of the reasons why Nicholas Fury called two of his best operatives here. The other was, for once, simple. As the Director of SHIELD, it was his damn job to make sure that a bank-breaking project like this one finished in time, if at all possible. And with the minimum number of fuck-ups too.
Carriers were fucking expensive. A flying one with a bleeding-edge cloaking system could easily break the bank even with the black budgets of dozens of countries fuelling the project.
Enough of a disaster here would mean that heads would roll, literally at that.
On the other hand, even half-completed, the helicarrier was beautiful. Watching it was almost enough to bring a tear to Fury's eye. Almost, but not entirely. Perhaps after it launched and he was in the privacy of his office on board.
"Romanoff, Barton, you're late!" Fury barked. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. Besides, you had to be crazier than he was not to keep those two on their toes. "I've got a big fucking problem which means you two have a problem as well."
"Sir?" The Black Widow inquired blandly.
"That ass Stark!" Fury snapped and turned around. "If we're unlucky, he managed to get himself killed!" Fury glowered like a cyclops someone just kicked in the nuts. "If we're particularly unlucky, a hostile organization has him and is now busy gleefully breaking him to build who knows what horror for them! Romanoff, find him! If he's dead, I want his body in front of me! If he's still alive, bring his pasty white ass back!" Fury turned his attention on Barton. "All military assets in Afghanistan found nada. Whoever was behind the hit knew what they were doing. It wasn't a bunch of Taliban with surplus AKs and RPGs. Find who is running interference and report straight back to me! Dismissed!"
Fury turned around and returned to watching the helicarrier. He missed the Cold War. It was a simpler world then.
=SI=
AN: Here, we have the first divergence that shows why this timeline needs assistance. The Ten Ring's Cell leader keeping Tony prisoner is Hydra and reasonably competent. There's no building a power armor under his nose. The odds are good that OTL Tony, with his issues, would have gotten himself killed by opening his mouth one time too many. Either that, or he would have ended up in a proper Hydra facility. There he would have experienced all the fun and games that brainwashing by the numbers meant.
Sadly for our dear beard man, he's basing his analysis of Tony on the drunken playboy everyone knows of. Instead, he has on his hands a pissed-off manipulative Sith who knows precisely which buttons to press.
The second divergence from OTL on Earth is evident. SHIELD really can't take the chance of Tony falling into hostile hands. On second thought, while Sith Tony will have reasons to go after Hydra with a vengeance, that whole clash and Hydra's infiltration of Shield can be fascinating to explore. It's not like all Hydra cells operate the same way or have precisely the same idea of their end goal.
=IS=
Part 4
=IS=
the lair of a plotting Sith and friends
Afghanistan
Within weeks, I had a bunch of minions for Yinsen to order around for me. They barely had anything approaching fundamental engineering skills, which was still better than nothing. Their aid greatly expedited the building of the armor's outer shell. Considering we didn't have to hide almost anything, the progress was much faster than it might have been.
The cell leader with the super beard even managed to bring two sets of state-of-the-art SI armor meant for US special forces and future adoption by SWAT units worldwide. Its soft layers consisted of Kevlar weave and stab-resistant mesh. Rigid ceramic-crystal plates offered good protection against rifle bullets. The helmet had an ingenious gel layer that would help spread and mitigate the shock of direct impacts and, to a much lesser extent, the overpressure of nearby explosions. Sadly, to adequately protect against an explosion, you would need a suit with a continuous gel layer, which was less than practical for various reasons. However, SI already worked on body armor with such a layer, which would significantly reduce the blunt-force trauma from bullet impact. It would also help protect against blunt weapons, making the armor an excellent option for riot police worldwide.
For once, Tony couldn't get the credit. Many brilliant people were working for SI. That was something I had to remind myself of. The sense of offended indignation I felt at the thought was amusing.
Adding the procured soft armor, the inside of the power armor's shell would significantly increase its resilience. Our next task in that regard was building the servo-motors that would allow me to use the bulky monstrosity in the first place, then properly attach and shield them.
The power source would officially be an issue, so I requested a few kilograms of palladium. Meanwhile, Yinsen and I worked on a miniature Arc Reactor. My other option was a compact fusion reactor. While I was confident I could get most of the design built with what I had available, writing the programs needed for the magnetic containment would be an issue. The same went for the reactor vessel itself. It had to be perfectly made and tough enough to contain the fusion reaction without melting or burning anything by sheer heat convection.
That was plan B, in case I failed in making the Arc Reactor work. Tony had been playing in his head with math and design issues for years. It was time to see if he was right, like in the movie I watched a lifetime ago or if I would have to improvise.
=SI=
It took us three weeks to get the Arc Reactor going. It was a piece of art, if I say so myself. That evening we celebrated by getting a bit of well-deserved rest and passing the time by playing backgammon. I occasionally remember enjoying the game as a kid, though I didn't recall Tony ever touching it.
Somehow we ended up talking about home and family. It was still a bit of an odd topic. In one life, I died content, an almost impossible achievement for a Sith. In this one, my private life was a bloody mess. Frankly, I was astounded that Happy and Rodney still put up with my bullshit. I knew many women who would have walked away in Peper's shoes. Either that or shot at me a few times for good measure.
I couldn't say I was unfortunate in this life; in the end, things turned all right in my last one.
"To Gomera and getting back to your family!" I toasted Yinsen with a cup of his special tea.
He smiled at me and returned the gesture. However, his emotions told me another tale. They sang of pain and loss. I had the nasty suspicion that my buddy didn't have anyone to get back to. With all the war and strife in the region, that shouldn't have come as a surprise. Yet it did.
"What about you?" Yinsen quickly steered the conversation away from his home.
"My family is dead," I admitted. The people close to me weren't technically family, were they? Well, Aunt Peggy, perhaps, but we weren't related.
"Then you're a man who has everything yet nothing." Ho intoned. "It's sad when you think about it."
"True enough." I shrugged.
A Sith's most outstanding achievement was leaving behind a worthy legacy, usually in the form of an Apprentice. I did that at last and survived the experience. Hopefully, the Imperial Knights Order prospered after my passing instead of falling prey to the old ways and the Dark Side.
In this world, well, I was yet to forge a proper legacy.
We spent the rest of the night silently playing and drinking sweet tea.
We were back at work the following day, focusing on the power armor. It wasn't entirely surprising that it was harder to make a good weapon's platform than weapons to put on it. I deliberately designed the gloves in such a way that I could use regular small arms. Doing so would greatly simplify breaking out. The rest of the weaponry, well, many rockets and missile warheads, were lying around. Perhaps a flamethrower to honor that I used to be Mandalore the Restorer back in the day? A rocket pack was out of the question for now. I didn't feel suicidal.
Ironically, the biggest challenge, in the end, was the computer support for the armor. We still had only two older military laptops to work with, and I had to program everything from scratch. The same was true for the Jericho guidance system and electronics, which Yinsen had to slowly and painfully explain to our host. Speaking about said happy bastard, the more I saw of him, the certain I became he was more intelligent than he let on. That was why I kept playing the beaten dog or the crazy scientist while the terrorists were around. I relaxed only in the evening, with no one but Yinsen around. That was for the benefit of the camera and the bastards watching us.
We were stuck in the cave for close to three months before I felt confident enough to try for a breakout. In all fairness, it took me that long to slowly build up my body. Tony might have been in a reasonable shape for a middle-aged billionaire. However, his conditioning was far from that of a proper warrior or soldier.
Most nights, I pretended to sleep and submerged myself in the Force, channeling as much of it through my body as possible. I did it by practicing forming defensive barriers around myself and strengthening myself. The change in the force was so slow and gradual that I barely noticed it. I still wasn't sure how much of it was the practice and how much it was the Force itself growing more tangible and potent over time. At any rate, now I had more power to channel than a few months ago. While a far cry from what I was used to, it was still much better than nothing.
My body was like a little lake that slowly filled from a nearby spring. There was a limit to how much I could do at any given time and how long I could maintain the effect before nearly running out of juice and recharging.
I was sure I could quickly get out a few not particularly strong techniques, then had to wait for my batteries to recharge. That process, in turn, wouldn't be particularly long. The reason for that was depressingly simple: I could both access and hold within myself because there was only so much of the Force.
It was going to have to be enough. In the past few nights, while training, I got the creeping sensation of running out of time.
=SI=
Afghanistan
Natasha crept through the desert like a ghost. A camouflage skinsuit kept her reasonably cool during the day and warm at night. A balaclava hid her distinct hair and prominent foreign features. She stalked like a ghost, chasing whispers and rumors. Only a handful of the contact she had from the time of the Red Room and the Soviet-Afgan War remained, and they weren't delighted to see the Black Widow.
It took both money and all her charm to persuade them to talk. One of them might even learn to walk again without limping.
The others were less happy to see her and proved less than cooperative. They were no longer around to potentially compromise her mission.
She got close to her destination near midnight, just like planned. This gave her a few hours to slowly stalk over the rough terrain of the valley and get into a position to wait for the next night when she could properly infiltrate the compound. On her approach, Natasha discovered that she potentially get the jackpot. She could see many weapons were in the far end of the valley. This place was supposedly abandoned since the previous war.
Satellite recon showed nothing, and that was concerning. Natasha would be pointing out that little fact in her report when returned.
=SI=
Part 5
=SI=
Ten Rings compound
Afghanistan
No plan survives first contact with the enemy. Unfortunately for the enemy, I've been trained by some of the best murderous bastards in the late Sith Empire and thrived in multiple galaxy-wide wars. As importantly, the Force was with me.
I waited for almost everyone in the base to fall asleep and called on the Force. Slowly, the shadows in our cave crept higher and higher until it was nearly pitch black. That was especially true around the cameras. I got up and went to Yinsen, who was fast asleep. I shook him awake and hushed him. He looked wildly around, startled by the darkness.
"We're assembling the armor now. Start quietly uploading the OS. I'll set the mines at the door."
Even without the Force, assembling the parts for some directional mines would have been almost effortless. We spent so much time disassembling munitions for their components to build Jericho missiles that it was easy to hide the needed parts in plain sight.
"What in God's name is this?!" Yinsen quietly exclaimed at the choking, welcoming darkness around us.
"I do have a few tricks up my sleeve. Get to work!"
I got the mines set while Yinsen began the upload. It was time for the tricky bit – getting into the armor and sealing it well enough to keep me reasonably safe. My buddy would have to do most of the heavy lifting; this was the moment we would be most vulnerable if it weren't for the Force and the mines anyway.
Indignant shouts came from deep within the caves. Whoever was on camera duty finally decided something was wrong and called their buddies to check on us. Their timing was less than ideal – I just walked into the suspended cradle holding most of the armor's pieces and got busy. I was attaching the Arc Reactor to a plug-in hidden behind the soft inner armor of the chest piece.
Someone struck the door and shouted a question. A tired, half-asleep voice shot back, and I could hear our hosts fiddling with the heavy chain locking us in.
"We're out of time!" Yinsen's fear spiked, only for grim determination to choke it down.
"I still have a few surprises left. Keep going." I tried to calm him down while focusing on the terrorists about to enter.
Yinsen was busy sealing up my shin guards when the door opened. This simple act ignited my first mine, and a loud explosion did its best to blow out our ears.
The keening screams that followed were fit to awake the dead. Well, so much for starting our escape quietly. A siren wailed, drowning all other sounds.
Yinsen finished with my right leg and went for the left while I did my best to properly fit the front plate to my chest and tighten up the arm's straps. I had to carefully use the Force because the armor plates we had to work with didn't offer enough manual dexterity to do it fast. It didn't help that I had to divide my attention into watching the corridor leading to the cell through the Force.
Soon, five signatures shimmered within my awareness. They ran right in, ignoring the dead and dying. Three more directional mines detonated, turning the enthusiasts into minced meat.
My crude HUD lit up, showing a slow booting-up sequence. Yinsen was busy putting up my back plate. We were almost ready when the next group of terrorists approached. There was at least one wary veteran with them because they paused as soon as they saw the carnage. I was sure they exchanged gestures or even shouts. I couldn't be sure with my ears still ringing from the explosion. The wailing siren didn't help either.
"Almost done!" Yinsen bellowed and walked before me to help secure the front plate and arm guards.
Now I only had to wait for the damn booting up sequence to complete.
I smiled viciously and put everything I had into striking at the minds of the slowly approaching terrorists. All but one were young, scared, and high on adrenaline. What passed for their mental defenses crumpled like wet tissue paper. All my pent-up fury crashed upon them, digging deep.
Their wails of anguish were music to my ears. The wild panicked shooting that followed clinched it. Only the veteran partially resisted the onslaught. Instead of losing his mind to madness, he screamed as if the Nine Corellian Hells were on his heels and sprinted inside our cell. He paid no attention to the corpses or remaining mines. Our last line of defense detonated, cutting the bastard in half just as he was about to run past the stone pillar between us and the door.
I shuddered as more of the Force flowed into my body, energizing me.
Yinsen gave me thumbs up and a nearly deranged, wild smile. He looked around and blinked at the much brighter cave. He shook his head and ran towards the slaughter, looking for weapons.
The Frankenstein suit of power armor finally booted up. Motors came to life with an unpleasant whine. The hydraulic system hissed, and my HUD blinked green.
I laughed like a maniac and ponderously left the cradle. Yinsen came back, bringing two AK-47s and a bandoleer with spare magazines. He had another one thrown over his shoulder. I tapped the armor over my right arm, and he quickly strapped the ammo pouch over it, then handed me an assault rifle.
"Stay behind me, and don't get shot!" I suggested and carefully walked towards the door.
The whole area stunk of blood and guts. The explosions had painted it in dark, sticky crimson.
My first two targets were among the bastards I drove mad. I found them in the corridor right outside the cell. They were on their knees, holding their heads and babbling something. I didn't bother wasting ammo on them. A servo-enhanced kick crumpled the rib cage of one, and a backhand strike shattered the skull of the other.
As it turned out, we were ready just in time because the next group of terrorists already had their wits about them. They ran our way, brandishing a mix of old Soviet weapons and brand-new SI guns. I spent a moment to telekinetically shatter the surviving lamps down the corridor, throwing this area of the caves into darkness.
Because of the Force, I had no trouble "seeing" the suddenly stumbling men, who rapidly stopped and crashed into each other. Angry shouts echoed throughout the cave, almost loud enough to be clearly heard over the still roaring alarm. I aimed and shredded them with controlled bursts. They stood no chance in the close quarters, bunched and surprised in the dark.
I felt a familiar signature approach, and for the first time tonight, I could feel the cold sensation of potent danger through the Force.
Our host was on his way, loaded for bear. I reloaded and checked the status of my heavy weapons. The rockets were ready.
In less than a minute, I reached the nearest junction leading into a larger cave. The open space ahead would be less than ideal.
Armed men rain inside from three directions and opened fire. I returned the favor while my whole body shook with bullet impact. The outer shell held, and the inner armor helped disperse the kinetic force. Otherwise, this much firepower striking me might have been enough to crack bones and cause internal bleeding.
Instead of retreating, I walked into the open and away from the walls. While doing so exposed me fully, it also offered options to avoid heavy weapons. That had to be the danger I sensed.
Short bursts serviced eight of the bastards, and I had to reload. Predictably, this was when my host showed himself. He had a sparkling new SI-manufactured grenade launcher.
Those things could bust lightly armored vehicles with our standard HEAP grenades. I had no doubt what the bastard packed. He aimed at me and pressed the trigger just as I reloaded.
Two things happened at the same time. My perception of the surrounding world slowed as I hastened my reactions with the Force. A grenade painfully slowly flew straight at my chest. I focused on the incoming danger, ignoring the bullets that still pinged off my armor. My right arm shot forward. The familiar gesture helped me better shape the Force into a telekinetic shove that threw the grenade off course. I followed this by launching the two rockets attached to my left arm. They slowly crept forward, flying on roaring jets of fire.
My perception suddenly sped up, and I could feel the Force within me draining to a painfully low level, even as I grasped and pulled more energy within myself.
The grenade exploded to my right, followed by two blinding detonations that cleared most of the cave in front of me. I emptied the AK's magazine in the remaining terrorists, who kept shooting slack-jawed at me.
The mines, and the squad I caught off guard in the tunnel, accounted for a good chunk of the enemies I knew of. This massacre brought the total number up.
Scratch nearly a platoon of terrorists within minutes! This wasn't a bad start to our escape!
"Ho, come on! We're leaving!" I shouted at Yinsen and went forward, only to stumble when my right leg seized up. I glanced down and grimaced. The servomotor at the knee smoked something fierce, and I saw hydraulic fluid leaking like blood.
This was going to suck.
=SI=
Natasha froze when an explosion echoed throughout the valley. Moments later, a siren wailed, ensuring everyone was on high alert. She threw herself into the shadows behind two pallets holding SI weapons while silently cursing.
Searchlights came to life, and sentries shouted at each other. A second explosion came from a nearby cave, soon followed by another.
Was someone else attacking this place, or did some of these fools just blow themselves up?! Natasha remained in the shadows, creeping between a rock wall and the closest pallet. Now she could hear distorted shots, undoubtedly coming from a cave network. She closed her eyes and focused everything on her enhanced hearing.
She could hear people shouting in Pashtu and Arabic, asking who was attacking them. The first time Natasha heard someone in the distance cry about
prisoners, she wasn't sure she got it right. The sound of fierce battle from the caves nearly drowned out the shouts of the terrorists outside.
Someone ran out of the cave, screaming.
"Chief's dead! Chief's dead! Prisoners have the armor! They're killing us!"
The Black Widow opened her eyes and slowly leaned around the corner of the pallet. She could barely make the form of a young adult, just a little more than a kid, really.
Natasha could hear the fear and desperation in his voice. She could also see some sentries leave their positions and run inside the cave.
Whoever was busy giving hell to the Ten Rings operatives, Natasha wanted to meet them. They might know what happened with Stark, or perhaps he was with them. Fury might just be correct, and someone had been coercing Stark to build them things. An armor, apparently. If her guess was right, Stark wasn't alone. Perhaps one of the missing soldiers from the convoy was with him, wielding whatever weapons Stark had been building?
All lights focused on the tunnel's entrance. The Black Widow smiled and pulled out her silenced pistols. It was time to have some fun.
=SI=
I used rockets to take out two more squads before getting near the exit. By my count, I already killed more terrorists than I estimated to be stationed there. That was less than ideal because I could sense danger from the exit, and my armor wasn't in pristine condition. I had to drag my right leg, significantly reducing my mobility in the armor. That was a problem because there were heavy machine guns outside. I didn't trust this armor to survive sustained fire from them. I might have tried going after the weapon emplacements if my mobility was better.
"Yinsen, the armor's done for now. Help me get out. We'll deal with the rest of them the old-fashioned way." I was sure I could briefly cloak myself out of sight to get to a defensive position and take one of the emplacements outside. Then I would repeat the trick, vanishing in the night and hunting down the remaining guards outside.
"Are you sure? They'll shred us without the armor!" Yinsen exclaimed.
"I'm sure. With that leg, I'll be sitting duck. You still have the smoke grenades, right?" I looked at Yinsen, who rapidly nodded and got to work.
Besides watching my back, his other task was to loot valuable equipment from the enemies I killed. He found four smoke grenades that would help me get out in one piece.
While Yinsen unstrapped the armor, I watched with the Force, ready to strike anyone brave enough to approach us. While I couldn't sense anyone else alive nearby, that wasn't saying much. My abilities with the Force were far from what I was comfortable with.
I was honestly surprised that no one interrupted us. Did I kill everyone in the caves? A brief sensation of shock and disgust rose within my heart before vicious satisfaction washed those emotions away.
"Give me the grenades and stay back until I call for you," I ordered.
Yinsen quickly gave me the four cylinders and warily pulled deeper into the caves. I used the force to throw the grenades around the corner far enough to get to the cave's exit.
The sentries answered with the deafening roar of HMGs cutting through the smoke. I could discern three-point sources. Did they leave the other two emplacements that could target the exit empty?
I decided not to question my luck and waited, following the ebb and flow of the Force. When I felt the time was right was right, I dashed into the acrid smoke. A telekinetic wave pushed it forward as if an explosion within the cave disturbed it. I used this moment to dash to the left and cloak myself, just as heavy bullets tore through the space I had just vacated. I barely managed to roll behind a nearby rock formation that offered me some cover.
The HMGs still tore at the entrance when one suddenly ceased firing. A jam or overheating? Perhaps the gunners needed to reload?
I drew the force around me like a cloak, vanishing from sight, and sprinted into the shadows. I headed away from the entrance, and the searchlights aimed at it. I could feel the Force within me draining faster than it could replenish and dived behind a stack of tires.
My heart hammered in my chest at the strain. My muscles burned as well. I was almost over, I hoped. My body was in no condition for much more abuse. I would need a brief rest soon. But first, I had to take care of the gunners.
I cloaked myself again and dashed to the next piece of cover. Now, the closest emplacement was on the cliffs almost above me. A couple of grenades would take care of it. After that, I would need a solid cover. I looked around, and my eyes stopped on the familiar shadow of a parked truck. That would do. I got the grenades ready, pulled the pins, and levitated them with the Force, mentally counting down. I shoved them over the sandbags and ran, cloaking myself again. The explosion lit up the sky and shoved me forward, pushing me to get to the truck just as my invisibility broke. I rolled under it, even as a searchlight lit up the area around the emplacement I just took out.
An HMG opened fire, and I braced for the worst. Yet, there was no warning of danger through the Force. The searchlight suddenly cut off. I could barely hear surprised and angry screams, followed by a wail of pain that soon cut off.
A few more HMG bursts followed, shattering searchlights. In moments, welcoming darkness covered the whole valley.
The kriff just happened? This couldn't be Yinsen. The gunners would have shredded him if he had tried to follow me. Unless he found another exit?
I pushed those thoughts away and used the cover of darkness to displace, going for higher ground. Once I got there, I would look for anyone else alive around here. I used the Force to boost my jump and grabbed a ledge that would otherwise be out of reach. I pulled myself up while my muscles screamed at me for the abuse. I was sweating as if having a fever and could feel my hands beginning to shake.
That wasn't good. I was already pushing my body beyond what it could handle right now.
It wasn't like I could just stop now, so I pushed through the pain, forcing my stiff limbs to move. This time I used the Force to try and slowly shove away to bone-deep exhaustion pushing me down.
It helped a bit, yet I still stumbled toward my target – a tall stone outcrop that would give me a good view of the valley. I nearly collapsed and had to lean on the cool stone for support when I got there. My heartbeat sounded like artillery in my ears, and my lungs also burned. The soothing flow of the Force could barely take off the edge of the exhaustion threatening to get me killed.
Dangerous or not, I had to close my eyes and rest for a few moments before my heartbeat stabilized and I could breathe more easily. Doing so proved nearly fatal. I felt someone approach too late and rolled away at the last moment. Something whistled in the air, striking the stone I just leaned on. I could hear metal bouncing off and the buzz of electricity.
I could sense danger approaching, and all I could do after hitting the ground hard was to shove at it with the Force with everything I had left. I heard a startled yelp accompanied by an electric crack.
Blinking away bright spots, I rolled away with a groan and somehow managed to raise my rifle. My hands shook so bad I wasn't sure I would be able to hit a battle cruiser from inside its main hangar. I stared at a lithe trembling figure who slowly rolled to its back.
"Fucking freeze!" I rasped.
The figure froze. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.
"Mr. Stark?!" A woman's voice rasped in surprise. "I'm friendly."
I could barely feel her relax at recognizing me. There was just a slight issue. In my current state, I wasn't sure if she told the truth or not.
"Stark! Are you alive out there!" Yinsen's voice sounded like thunder. I winced at that. If there were alive enemies, he just made himself a target.
To my relief, no one opened fire. The woman on the ground in front of me just laid there without moving.
"I was sent to search for you, Mr. Stark. I work for the US government." The woman spoke again, this time in a pleasant voice.
I was almost sure she was telling the truth now.
"Identify yourself," I demanded.
"I'm Agent Black from SHIELD." She lied smoothly.
My shaking finger caressed the trigger.
"No, you're not!" My exhausted voice betrayed me.
"I do work for SHIELD, Mr. Stark! I am here to get you back home!"
I could feel no deception in this earnest response. So she lied about her name, not about who sent her. I had to either shoot her now or put my gun down before my trembling hands betrayed me.
"This is an odd place to visit, Ms. Agent." I made the best Tony Stark impression I could at the moment and lowered the gun slowly.
"Stark, are you alive, damn you!?" Yinsen bellowed.
"He's a friend. If it weren't for him, I'd be dead." I managed to tell the agent before my body utterly betrayed me.
Link: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/14144255/1/The-Iron-Sith-V2-SWMCU