MARVEL 2000 PRESENTS:

"The Uncanny Adventures of Mr. Stark’s Invincible Pneumatic Wearable Fortress of Impenetrable Defense!"

Part Two

Written by Violet Mackenzie

Chapter VII

The Gauntlet

It was to Mr. Stark’s great delight that his dear friend James Rhodes was, in fact, quite alive. Although quite worse for wear and unable to barely utter a word, let alone steer an airship, his bull’s heart still beat rhythmically within his breast.

“He’ll need to be treated, sir,” the medic had told Stark. “I do what I can here, but it is little more than suppressing his pain. The fire, you see… the burns are quite severe and could lead to an infection. The fact that he breathes is a miracle from the Gods that we should not ignore.”

Stark raised an eyebrow at the medic’s plural use, and briefly considered the ramifications of having an Asatruar on board should the public find out. Yet the pressing concern for Mr. Rhodes had won over any reservations he had on the subject.

It was clear, now, that haste was in order. After the night’s battle, his armor had kept surprisingly sturdy and though he would relish another day to improve it all the more, now fully aware of its limitations, Stark knew there was little time to waste. He had already rested, briefly, and was fed a small portion of a breakfast to regain his strength. This was more than sufficient in his mind and so he began making his preparations to travel to the nearby island.

And there was another matter of which he had come to a conclusion.

“I go alone,” he told Bao with stern defiance.

She was unsurprised at his decision, nor was he at her response.

“That’s absurd. I came this far with you, nearly found my death twice in as many days, and I deserve to see this through!”

He sighed.

“You’re safer here. I’ve already put too many lives at risk with this absurd adventure. I should have never brought any other lives in this circle of mine. Miss Yinsen, you asked me once why I do not marry. I believe you now know better than anyone my reasons for abstention from that sacred bind. My life is a danger; yet I would not have it any other way.”

Miss Yinsen’s brow steepled quite noticeably. “And you remain the ever-romancer. I wonder, Mr. Stark, do you forbid me to go out of chivalrous duty, or is it something far less honorable and quite a lot more selfish than you’d like me to realize? Do not bother answering as it matters very little. I am coming along, of that much I can be sure. And do not fool yourself that it is an act of defiance on your contrary insistence; this is about my grandfather and little else. That is my final word on this matter, so go on and put your silly shining armor on. I’ll be on the shore.”

With that, she stomped away as the victor of the argument. Stark could not help but smile at the young woman’s fiery passion and in some ways saw a few admirable qualities of his own within her spirit.

All the same, he did as he was told and in a short time, he met her on the beach, flying in at a jump from the ship’s deck. He carried a large and protruding object in his metal hands, shrouded by a raggedy gray sheet.

Miss Yinsen turned, arms already crossed. Her scarred features made strangely alluring by the heated expression she still wore. The small wind teased the hint of curled black hair that snuck from under her ear.

“What’s that in your arms,” she inquired with a smiling vicious tone. “An apology?”

Behind his iron mask, Mr. Stark smiled. “Of sorts. For the lady, if she pleases.” He presented it further.

She stepped closer and, without removing her look from his eyes, swung the sheet off in a single motion. Revealed beneath were the very objects that had garnered Mr. Stark’s attention what seemed like years ago, the very thing that started this dangerous affair: her wings.

“I took the liberty of improving on the design. I must say, I was quite impressed. A few more careful re-calculations on your part and perhaps I wouldn’t have had to touch them at all. As it were, however, I added a few, shall we say, personal influences that you may enjoy.”

Miss Yinsen removed the wings, only partly listening, and marveled at their reappearance and noticeable improvement. They were sturdier, asymmetrical, and, as she put them on, far more comfortable. The strain upon her back and shoulders was considerably less, despite the increase in weight.

“You are truly a wonder, Mr. Stark,” she happily chirped as the wings spread to their full.

“I do my best. Now, I trust you have experience using those in the air? We can make it to the island much faster by avoiding all of these bothersome trees and terrain.”

She barely looked from the metal masterpieces when answering with a nearly intelligible response that Stark took to be an acknowledgment in the affirmative.

“Very well, then. To the clouds, Miss Yinsen.” With a jolt, the rockets at his back erupted, followed by those at his heels, and Stark was in the air at once.

Looking up with an envious smile, Bao lifted her goggles from her forehead and placed them squarely over her eyes and took to the sky with a great series of fluid flaps from her wings, with the help of a sudden and unexpected small burst from her own condensed rocket engines.

The two flew side by side, over the trees, quickly approaching the mountainous peaks that teased the afternoon light. Occasionally, Miss Yinsen would divert from the path in order to, she claimed, better understand and experiment with her new attachments. However, based on her cries and wide grin, it was clear that the sensation of flying had simply brought out the child within her that she likely once thought lost.

Upon crossing a divide between the twin islands, Miss Yinsen soon yelled and pointed to a landmark below. They descended upon a large stone with a strange marking carved into it.

“This mark is from my grandfather.”

Stark studied it.

“It’s in Chinese?”

“Chữ Nôm. It says ‘heaven.’”

The two looked ahead to the cavern that lay in front of them. It was dark, with only a few meters visible before delving into complete blackness.

“We should head within before any more mechanical monstrosities have a sudden urge to appear,” said Mr. Stark, looking around with a modicum of paranoia. They did as he suggested and Stark brandished his pistol in one hand while igniting a flame in the palm of the other. The cave was desolate, save for insects and small creatures, and it appeared as though it had not been travelled in many years, perhaps decades.

It seemed to go on for a great distance, winding this way and that, getting smaller at points and larger at others, until finally they came to an impasse. They must have been travelling downward for some time, as there was now a pair of enormous metal doors, tall enough that even the metal beast from the previous night could perhaps take a stroll inside.

“Should we knock?” Stark said with a smirk beneath his helmet. Miss Yinsen did not smile back.

He ran his encased hands over the door, the sound of metal on metal shrilly filling the tunnels. Rivets lined the edges of the doors and it appeared to be sealed so tightly, it may as well have been fused together.

“Stand back, Miss Yinsen,” Stark commanded and, after following his own advice, unleashed a torrent of bullets and flame at the door. When the smoke settled, not a scratch was found on its surface. Unsurprised, Stark then pulled back his fist and with a furious thunder, struck one of the doors with such force that Bao felt the vibrations hit her square and was slightly shaken for a moment. Yet still, there was no damage to the doors.

“Fascinating,” he said, with obvious admiration.

“Mr. Stark! Over here,” he heard from behind. Joining at the woman’s side at what appeared to be an indentation in the wall, he watched as she swept away dust and dirt, revealing a strange sight indeed.

Built into the wall was a frame, built at two feet square. Within it was a series of movable blocks, each with a word or symbol burned into it. These blocks were connected by wires, stone and wood and could be rotated, exchanged, and moved around in all manners within the frame. Stark admittedly understood very little of what he was looking at, beyond that he was sure it was a code to unlocking the door that blocked their path.

“What does it mean?” Miss Yinsen asked desperately.

He did not answer. Instead he simply stared and studied each block. On occasion, he would move one from left to right, up and down, flipping it around to see the words on each side.

A great deal of time passed. Torches were lit all around and Bao relaxed lazily against the door. Her eyes grew heavy. Stark had removed his helmet but his eyes remained on the frame.

On occasion, he flitted with the blocks and then pressed the large stone at the bottom, the word “MAKE” etched on its face. It slid in smoothly enough and in an instant, all of the blocks began twirling and rotating, creating a noise not unlike a flock of birds rushing past. And then the blocks settled, their positions randomly reset.

At last, he cried out, “Gulliver!”

Bao jumped with a start.

“Of course! I knew I recognized this device. Ho Yinsen and I spent so much time going over Gulliver’s manuscript, it’s a wonder it took me this long to recall.”

“But…” began Miss Yinsen with a slight yawn. “What does it mean?”

“It’s a computational word machine. It literally creates sentences, at the scope of full novels. Understand?”

She shook her head.

“What’s within this block is an entire language, a controlled dictionary. It is an educated brain made up of wires and wood.”

“And what of its connection to the door, Mr. Stark?”

He lowered his arms, the excitement falling from his face. “I can only assume that the correct combination of words and sentences can lead us to opening the door. It is a vast tool with no clue in its answers. I may as well search my own vocabulary, though there are many words and symbols on these blocks that I have never seen. I’m afraid this is something that could take years for any normal man.”

Bao smiled gently. “But you are no ordinary man, Mr. Stark.”

He returned with a smile of his own, far broader. “Too true, Miss Yinsen.”

She watched as he took to the machine with a feverish pace, moving blocks at a seemingly random method. It was as if in all that time prior he had been learning the language itself, storing it in his extraordinary brain, and now that he truly understood the edges of the machine, he could put it to use expertly.

Barely ten minutes had passed before Stark found himself dwindled to but a few blocks remaining, going back and forth between them, checking other connected blocks as well.

Under his breath, Stark read what he believed to be the translation of the blocks he had placed. Something was not adding up. The final character, the only one not in English that he was sure to recognize, the one identical to the massive stone outside the cavern, was not fitting with the design of the code he had accomplished. He flipped the block around, studying its sides, and settled on changing a few of the others around. Cautiously, he pressed the giant ‘MAKE’ button and the blocks began flitting about as they had before. Yet this time, when they came to a stop, they were in their previous placements and suddenly a rumbling came from the floor.

The door was opening.

Miss Yinsen let out a yelp as the door she had been resting against began pushing her aside. She then stood up and clapped excitedly. “You did it, Mr. Stark! Your genius is truly as my grandfather described.”

Mr. Stark, however, did not look pleased. He removed his helmet from the ground, placed it over his head with a twist and a snap, and then moved through the doors. Bao followed happily, unaware of his change in disposition.

As they walked the corridor, it was obvious that little had changed. They were still within a cave, identical to before, however it was lined with lights alit with no flame, making it seem as though their descent was that into a much more fiendish place than it may have been. There was a great silence between the two as well, until Miss Yinsen finally spoke, her voice echoing off the cavern walls.

“What did it say?” she inquired.

Stark made a noise, as if he hadn’t heard her entirely.

“The message. The code. What did it say?”

“Ah. Nonsense, really. I’ll explain later. I believe there’s something up ahead.”

Although his change in subject may have been a bit brash, there was indeed a strong light growing in intensity as they got nearer. Something was burning brightly and the smell of sulfur was in the air.

They once again reached a clearing, however this one was not halted by a door. Instead, a narrow tunnel from top to bottom was lined with protruding, perfectly formed spikes on two separate flanks of metal slabs. Beside the tunnel, a lever sat innocently, covered in cobwebs and dust. Warily, Stark pulled on it.

The slabs separated at once, a terrible wind expelling from the air they let through. Yet they remained apart for barely a second before they slammed at one another, the spikes cleanly slipping beside one another to create a perfect form, tight enough to keep any air from traveling between their deadly tips.

As Stark studied the blockade, he couldn’t help but notice the area suddenly grow brighter. Looking around, he saw a series of lines, few of which actually crossed one another, and each marked at some end with either a circle with a jagged cross or the letter ‘I.’ The lines glowed faintly blue, an energy coming from the walls themselves.

“More puzzles, Mr. Stark?” said Miss Yinsen with a loud sigh.

“T’would seem so, my dear. Though I’m a bit disappointed. It’s just a rudimentary circuit. I would recognize it anywhere.”

“And the key for unlocking this passageway?”

“I believe that would lay in the correct sequence of circuits, finding the algorithm hidden within.” He reached over to the left wall and pressed a circuit, which suddenly changed to red. A spike near the front of the barrier withdrew into the slab, creating a void where it once stood.

“Ah. I see. The circuit may be vast, but a simple case of trial and error can get us through this test.”

He pressed another circuit at random and suddenly a perfect square of the ground they stood on collapsed underneath Miss Yinsen. She let out a cry and slipped through the newly made fissure, her mechanical wings holding her aloft. The leather straps strained at the sudden pull.

Stark quickly ran to her aid and began pulling her up.

“Wait!” she shouted. “Not the wings… it’s tearing!”

He moved around the small hole but could not find a gap large enough for more than a single hand to slip through.

“Bao… you’re going to have to unlatch the wings.”

“No! I’ll fall!”

“I’ll grab you. But I can’t reach with them in the way. They’re blocking the path and I can’t move them without risk of you falling.”

Miss Yinsen’s feet dangled into blackness and a crumple of rocks fell off her shoulder. She did not hear them reach the bottom.

“It will have to be fast. You must be ready. Do you trust me?”

“I… what?” she stared wide-eyed at the dark that, in her mind, crept ever closer, encircling her in its cold grip.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes… yes! Please!”

Stark nodded and removed one of his enormous gauntlets, revealing his bare forearm and hand.

“On the ready!” he shouted. Bao prepared herself, gritting her teeth and clenching her eyes for but a moment and then looking up into Stark’s face, barely seen through the gap.

“Now!”

She unlatched the wings just as Stark threw them aside with one hand and with the other, reached with his entire body into the hole, grasping for her touch, face hard against the dirty ground of the cave.

He felt her soft hand, damp with sweat, heavy with fright. With all his strength, he lifted her to the edge of the hole and she was finally able to hold on. Once she had a grip, he helped her up further and the two panted on the filthy floor, covered in its gray and black dirt.

“I’m not sure… trial and error… is the safest option… Mr. Stark…” she gasped.

Once they regained their composure, Stark began studying the circuit once more. He was much more careful this time, following the path of the lines and explaining to Miss Yinsen about “ones and zeroes,” in a way so complex that she scarcely understood how two numbers could ever be so difficult to understand.

Eventually, a path was formed between the slabs, barely wide enough for Stark’s armored form to slip through sidelong.

“I must say,” Stark began. “Ho Yinsen was quite the complicated man. I knew he was fond of games, but this is a bit absurd. I only pray the next one is a bit more of a push-over, although I hardly doubt it.”

“The next one?” asked Miss Yinsen. “What makes you assume there’s to be another test?”

“The rule of three, my dear. It’s tradition, deep enough to likely supersede the engineer’s binary coda. And besides, if that was all, we’d be there, wouldn’t we?”

“I suppose…” Miss Yinsen remained unsure. She still seemed a bit shaken from the events prior and occasionally looked at Mr. Stark with a strange, unhappy glance.

“Do you smell that?” she asked. “Like matchstick… but greater.”

“Sulfur,” he replied. “I had smelled it earlier. It’s been steadily growing as time has gone on and we’ve gotten closer to our destination.”

As they turned a corner, they were faced with another door, identical to the one previous apart from a design at its center, that of an enormous gear with the shape of a heart within it. Smoke came from holes around its edge.

Stark stepped forward and stared at the design for a moment before climbing up the side of the rock, peering into one of the smoking openings. He saw a complicated collection of random objects, attached with a great deal of wires to a clock that ticked quietly. Curious, he looked into the other hole and saw an identical sight. He reached inside and tugged on the thing, turning it over. He let out a sudden gasp and jumped to the ground.

“What? What is it, Mr. Stark?”

“A bomb, I’m afraid. A lot of bombs. This is madness, Ho Yinsen.”

He looked through the eye slits of his helmet with fear and confusion.

“How do we stop it? Should we run?” She was panicked and halfway to a start for the exit.

Stark shook his head. “No point in running. The countdown and ignition began the moment we opened that door. At the point it has reached, we wouldn’t make it halfway before it went off and collapsed this entire cave, us with it.”

“Why? Why would he do this?” she screamed.

“It’s the final test. The last challenge in your grandfather’s gauntlet. But I don’t understand; the previous tests had obvious answers, things related to engineering, to mechanics. These were things he and I were well versed in, yet anyone with enough practice could have likely figured it out eventually. And here… there is nothing. Nothing but five enormous bombs and an impossibly strong door.”

“Mr. Stark… how long do we have?”

Stark removed his helmet and looked up at the smoking holes. “If I was forced to hazard a guess…” he considered for a moment. “Three minutes.”

Bao let out a cry and slunk against the wall, suddenly faint. She attempted to pull herself together, clearing her throat and blinking profusely. “Mr. Stark…”

He looked at the door, uninspired.

“Mr. Stark, my grandfather told no one of this place. These tests… they were all meant for you. He believed only you were worthy of his final secret, whatever it may be. Only you could have gotten us this far.”

He shook his head. “No. Those tests were complicated, difficult, but countless others could have done the same, just perhaps not faster.”

“Then they would already be dead! He knew you would get here in time, that there were minutes to spare, that you’d have no choice. Don’t you see, Mr. Stark? He’s calling out to you! Communicating from the heavens with his puzzles and symbols. You have the answer, Anthony… somewhere in that astonishing mind of yours.”

Stark simply sighed and continued to stare at the door, at the strange design at its middle. “Why me?” he whispered.

He searched the contours of the etched gear, followed it to its core, gazing at the heart.

The heart…

He stood up with a jolt and immediately began removing his armor, piece after piece.

“Mr. Stark…?”

He ignored her and continued to rid himself of his most advanced costume until he was down to his simple clothes. Stark climbed up to the first hole on the right, pulled a handful of wires from it, then did the same with all the others, grabbing a mass of black chords with copper ends.

“You were right, Miss Yinsen. Only I can stop this and Ho Yinsen knew it.” He removed his top, revealing a sleeveless white undershirt beneath. At the collar, he ripped it down the middle. What Miss Yinsen saw, she could never have expected. There, built within his flesh, was a glowing battery of a machine, a faint blue light coming from its center. It was a messy and complex mass of metal, yet as Stark pulled on a small crank at its side, it became somehow an elegant thing, like a brass and steel flower blooming. A control panel was revealed, with dials and gauges flickering this way and that.

“I lost my heart many years ago. The reason I am here now, today, is in thanks to your grandfather. He gave me this, my new heart. He gave me a new life.”

Stark pulled at the wires, began twisting the ends of many of them until he had five joined tips.

“Those bombs are losing power. The sulfur smell is because the engines that power it have been turned off. They’re collapsing. It needs a new source of energy and my heart is the only thing strong enough. I only pray that it survives the process.”

Miss Yinsen looked on with wonder and horror as Stark pulled wire after wire from the device within his chest. He was visibly pained at each removal. “If I… lose consciousness… you need to plug these… back in. They’re color-coded… red goes into red… yellow to… yellow. Etcetera.”

She nodded, not entirely comprehending what he spoke of, wiping the sudden tears from her cheeks, and trying desperately to commit his instructions to memory.

“When I remove… this last wire… my heart will stop.”

She went to his side and knelt, holding his hand that gripped the wire he spoke of.

“If something goes wrong,” Stark breathed. “I want you to know… I forgive you.”

She shook her head and opened her mouth, but no words came out.

He pulled on the wire.

Frantically, with shaking hands, he began putting each dangling wire from the threatening explosives into a corresponding hole that clasped at their copper ends. A whirring sound came from his chest, slowing momentarily and then speeding up. A similar noise came from each hole along the border of the door, going in time with their corresponding plug’s insertion.

Stark plugged in the last of the wires and the door shuddered abruptly, then gradually began to separate and open.

The last thing Sir Anthony Stark saw was a mechanical eye, larger than he was, looking back at him.

Chapter VIII

The Engine

A murmur of voices. He couldn’t understand what they were saying. Was it foreign? Something was going klang klang klang near his head.

When Mr. Stark began coming to, the whites of the surprisingly bright room overwhelmed his senses. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes and found that he was back in his armor, yet it was noticeably lighter.

He attempted to focus his eyes through the helmet but it was no good. Shapes swam in front of his face, in the darkness of the helm and the brightness of the room. In his mouth was a small plastic device, contouring to his jaw. He felt oxygen push into his lungs and the odd sensation of a machine breathing for him caused him to cough and spit the thing out.

“Mr. Stark! Good morning!”

He still couldn’t make out the shape. It was tall, thin, seemed to meld into the cold floor. It was a thing of black and green and gold and a brilliant white spot where its face should be.

“Be sure to remove that mouthpiece, Mr. Stark. Too much oxygen is no good for the brain. And yours is much too precious to have damaged.”

The spots were diluting and he blinked involuntary tears from the edges of his eyes. Things began to take shape.

“All better?” asked the smiling face through a curtain of the darkest thin hair. He was an older man of the Far East with a terrible smile on his all too pale features. He wore a cloak that shrouded his whole body, a black silk garb etched with green with gold trims. At his middle, a vicious starburst design permeated throughout, spreading to the edges and his limbs, like an intricate golden virus. His face was the most severe, however. It was angular, pointed at all places where it could be. His high thin eyebrows created a temple above his thin, elliptical eyes. An expertly trimmed beard reached to his chest, careful not to touch the equally long points of his moustache.

“Oh, I know, Mr. Stark. I have you at an inconvenience. I know ever so much about you, having followed your career for some time now. Yet there is a slim chance you have ever even heard of me or my operations. So then, allow me to dismiss your confusion with a proper introduction.” The man stood back, smoothed his cloak, and clasped his hands together, hiding them beneath his long and wide sleeves.

“I am called the Mandarin, a title I have earned and thus appropriated for my own services and ends. Like you, I am a man of science. However, I am not fool enough to see that there are some places even your genius cannot take a man.”

He brandished his hands once again and it was only then that Stark noticed that at the bottoms of each sickly thin, clawed finger was a ring, all of them brilliantly gold with a different color upon a unique shape on every face.

“My grandmother often spoke to me of gods and the kings of the four quarters. I’m ashamed to admit that I believed not a word she spoke until I discovered the beauties what lay upon my fingers. Each ring was a gift from the world mountain, given to me alone. The power they hold… well, it is unimaginable.” He strode from side to side, barely glancing at Stark, wrapped up in his own ruminations. “Yet I am still a man. An aging man, at that. Strong, in comparison to my peers; but far too frail for a leader. You understand what I am getting at, Mr. Stark?”

He had heard quite enough. Clearly this man was mad, going on about magical rings and gods upon mountains. Stark meant to end this lecture, however he discovered there was little he could do. His strength was remarkably shallow, his chest pained at every breath. He was trapped within the giant shell that had earlier made him a hero. While the Mandarin knelt down and peered into the slits of his helmet, Stark could do little more than stare back, helpless.

“I am going to take this armor from you, Mr. Stark. It’s too incredible to just destroy. I will let you die inside and then peel your flaccid body from its inside. But first I’ll need you to help activate Ho Yinsen’s last gift to man.”

Suddenly, Stark felt his entire body give way. With a single finger, the Mandarin appeared to be causing Mr. Stark and his heavy casing to lift from the ground and float in midair. He trailed behind the vile villain, carried into a larger chamber as if by the wind itself. He was placed harshly against the wall, forced to stand with the armor’s joints fastened in a stoic position. What faced him suddenly brought back the memory of what brought him here and what had happened before.

Bao. Stark had utterly forgotten about his colleague. Had she been slain by the Mandarin? Perhaps she’s captive within the cavern? He had little time to consider the possibilities when he realized what he was staring at.

Through a massive hole within the cave stood the greatest marvel Mr. Stark had ever bore witness to. It was a man, tall as a building, made entirely of metal. It was smooth, clean, perfect. The simplicity of the thing was rather unsettling, differing ever so much from the machines of the age that Stark and indeed the world had gotten used to. Yet this silver goliath, with each eye bigger than any average man, was a wonder to be even in existence. One could tell that it was far more than a simple statue, that there was life within it.

“Incredible, is it not? As if from another world. A hypothesis I am not unwilling to ignore. Yet Ho Yinsen’s mark is laid on this ultimate creation in an unmistakable fashion. There, at the base of the forehead and between the eyes. Do you see it, Mr. Stark?”

He searched the considerable surface of which he spoke and spotted it: a very small divot between the eyes at the base of the brow. Stark could just barely see the gleam of an etching inside, one distinctly like the symbol on Ho Yinsen’s watch that he gave to Stark so long ago.

“It is a keyhole. And you, no doubt, hold the key.”

“If you think—“

“It speaks!” The Mandarin laughed. “My apologies. Allow me continue, as I am sure of what you are about to say. You wish to tell me how little the likelihood is of you handing over a key to me, a manipulative person clearly of the darker disposition. I’ll save you the trouble and move ahead, as it were.”

The Mandarin snapped his wicked fingers and a pair of Chinese men appeared, clad in black and red uniforms, with swords at their sides and a gun in hand. They dragged a struggling Bao Xuan Yinsen behind them.

“Bao!” Mr. Stark cried out.

A blade was put to her throat and a gun to her head. She screamed for Stark, implored him to resist the Mandarin’s demands. But as the knife drew blood, her pleas fell on deaf ears.

“No!” Stark clasped his eyes shut. “Very well… I’ll give you what you want.”

The Mandarin smiled like a fox amongst sheep. “Excellent. The key?”

He hesitated.

“In my pocket. A watch.”

The Mandarin commanded one of his lackeys to come to Stark’s side and begin removing his armor. He could feel the weight being lifted from him, obvious now that somehow the Mandarin disabled much of his suit’s pneumatics, making each motion quite difficult for even the strongest man. In a short time, the man was rummaging in Stark’s pocket and pulled out the golden watch. He handed it to the Mandarin and was then ordered in Chinese to replace the armor once more. And the pieces fit together all too perfectly.

“How simple. A humble pocket watch, like the poor cup of your Christ, and with it holds the secret and power to eternal life.”

Mr. Stark could not help but give credence to the swimming fears in his mind. Why had Ho Yinsen given me the key to a doomsday machine? he wondered. Why was I brought here, put through all of these tests and trials, only to activate the demolition of the world?

The Mandarin turned the watch in his bony hand and then breathed in dramatically. Turning toward the colossal figure, he stepped forward and ever so gingerly placed the watch in the divot. It fit perfectly.

Suddenly, the cavern began to rumble and vibrate. A few brittle stalactites fell from the ceiling. Stark could feel the engine of the giant churning, gaining power through combustion. Its eyes had lit up ever so dimly.

The Mandarin stepped back with a wide grin on his face, amazed by what he saw and immensely satisfied to be the victor in this cunning game he had created. He turned to the guards and spoke harshly. Suddenly, they released Bao. She straightened herself and slapped the guard with the sword and then made her way to Stark’s powerless body.

She looked through his mask and into his blue eyes. A tear ran down her scarred cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and then stood up and went to the Mandarin’s side. His arm went over her shoulder and he held her close. They watched the machine come to life.

“She is my daughter, Mr. Stark. Adopted, as I’m sure she told you. But I raised her to be the greatest and when I unleash this engine of destruction upon the world, she will be the princess to inherit it. Perhaps then things will be different and you could still be her prince.”

The Mandarin looked over his shoulder with grinning teeth. Bao, however, refused to turn.

As the cave’s vibrations grew to unbearable amounts, the noise and commotion allowed Stark the moment he had been waiting patiently for. Tentatively, he stood up from the ground with a slow, calm motion. The guard, distracted by the machine, did not see Stark until the last moment, when he was thrown over the age before he could let off a shot. His cry cut through the roar and the Mandarin turned wild-eyed to see Stark standing across from him. He held up his hand and a bolt of lightning erupted from his finger. Stark could feel his body wanting to shut down, to give way to the darkness again, but he stood with sheer force of will.

The Mandarin threw Bao to the side and a sudden blackness enveloped the cave. Stark saw nothing but the flames of his own armor. Even the sound seemed to be muted. He turned on his torch but any expulsion of light was absorbed into nothing.

He was alone.

And then there was another jolt of electric power surging through him, causing spasm and cries of pain. Stark fell to the ground and reached for something, anything, to make it all stop. He was being tortured in a void. There was nothing.

He felt something, hard and protruding from the ground. He snapped it from its place and threw it at the point of origin where he could feel the electricity hitting him at its hardest. There was a shriek and then light again.

Catching his breath, Stark could see he had not struck the Mandarin, but Bao. A stalagmite jutted from her abdomen, her clothes drenched with blood. Her eyes were closed. Her adopted father stood over her limp form with shock and anger on his face, but Stark did not have the time to mourn his mistake.

He stood up once more and walked toward the machine. Its eyes burned even brighter than before. Its mouth began to open. It was nearly finished coming to a stark.

Removing one of his giant gauntlets, Stark reached forward to the watch and clicked it open. He knew what must be done. The words of Ho Yinsen rang through his mind.

“I die when this clock strikes thirteen.”

He turned the hour to the thirteenth hour.

The glowing yellow eyes began to fade out immediately but were quickly replaced with red. The cavern shook even more and Stark could hear the engine within the goliath whirring far too quickly. Small explosions could be heard within the depths of the hole.

The thing was being destroyed from the inside.

“No!” cried the Mandarin, kneeling over Bao. “What have you done?”

Stark looked the would-be conqueror in the eyes and said, “Carried out the last wishes of an old friend.”

The Mandarin let loose a jet of flame from a ring, catching Stark’s unprotected hand and causing him to scream in pain until he felt his entire body lifted and thrown against the cave walls, which crumbled all the quicker.

He landed face down and nearly lost consciousness. When his eyes opened, he saw the glint of a sword before him.

“You dare to take away my glory and my family! I will not die here in this place like an animal, but before I leave I will be sure that your death is slow.”

The Mandarin stood nearly on top of him, the sound of his furious voice moving closer. Without warning, Stark grasped the sword with his burnt hand and swung upwards while simultaneously lifting himself to his knees. The sword struck flesh and the Mandarin cried in incredible pain. Several of his ringed fingers lay bloody on the dirty ground.

The cave’s walls were punching holes in the walkway. Spikes fell from the ceiling. A sudden gap spilled brilliant sun light on the face of the silver colossus. There was no time to think. Stark got to his feet, placed his glove back over his throbbing hand, and then stomped toward Miss Yinsen’s form. He lifted her in his arms and his rockets exploded, propelling him into the collapsing roof. With one hand, he punched through the rock, making the gap larger enough for his considerable shape.

The wind breathing through his armor felt like paradise. Though his body ached, he refused to slow down. Mr. Stark hazarded a glance back over his shoulder and saw the small mountain give way within, as if being swallowed by the earth. At that moment, he thought he saw the head of the machine turn and look at him, but before he could focus, the entire structure erupted into an incredible explosion.

The ultimate doomsday machine was no more.

Chapter IX

The End of an Adventure

Upon returning to The Avenger, Mr. Stark learned that their crew had thwarted an attack by the Mandarin’s men, which culminated in the capture of some, the deaths of many, and the retreat of all the rest when they saw the mountain explode.

Miss Yinsen was placed into the care of the airship’s medic, who was uncertain of her fate.

The ship was repaired enough to see them home and in no time it took to the clouds once more, headed back to London.

Mr. Stark took little rest and returned to the work on his armor, improving on the design further, learning from the harrowing experience he had just had. When he allowed himself a few spare moments, he visited the medical bay.

He was doing just that when he felt the hand of his old friend James Rhodes resting on his shoulder.

“’War,’ Mr. Stark,” he said.

Blinking himself back to the world before him, Stark turned. “Sorry?”

“Chiến. It means ‘war,’ not ‘peace.’ She lied to you from the beginning.”

Stark nodded. “So it would seem.”

There was a silence between them.

“How are you?” Mr. Rhodes asked.

“Well enough,” Stark replied simply. “It is not the first time I have been manipulated, after all. I was weak to trust her, drunk with old memories stirred from her tales of an old friend.”

Another pause.

“What did you find there, Mr. Stark? Was it worth all of this?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Worth it, Mr. Rhodes? In my lifestyle, there is very little I cannot put a price on. Yet an adventure such as this… well, it’s beyond even my substantial wallet. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Mr. Rhodes smiled broadly. “Perhaps I would agree with you if I spent less time in the infirmary and more amongst the action that you seem to have encountered.”

“I was hoping you would say that, Mr. Rhodes.”

Stark placed an arm around his friend and the two turned from Miss Yinsen’s bed. They left the room, the sounds of her shallow breaths fading from their ears, as they spoke of machines and villains and adventures yet to come.

Fin!