So What Did You Think?

"So, you're saying you're here to break me out… Miss Stark, do you really think I'll believe that?"

"You will, Dr. Yinsen, because I'm the only person you can trust."

Before her stood a middle-aged man, slightly balding, dressed in a worn black suit. Perhaps a little younger at heart, but engineers tend to show their age more quickly; it's hardly surprising.

His name was Ho Yinsen, a mechanical engineer from the small Afghan town of Gulmira, and also the only qualified doctor in town with a Ph.D. in medicine. His life had been peaceful, if uneventful, until his town was ravaged by the Ten Rings.

According to him, he and Miss Stark had met at the Zurich Tech Conference back in 1999, though she herself had little memory of it.

But she knew one thing: a version of herself in another universe had been indebted to Dr. Yinsen and felt deep regret for not saving his life.

When the two had been held captive by the Ten Rings, Dr. Yinsen had helped her create the Mark I Iron Armor, and if only they had finished it just seconds sooner...

Yet, perhaps destiny had already sealed his fate, for Dr. Yinsen had sacrificed his life to draw enemy fire.

Miss Stark had felt the weight of her other self's remorse and sorrow, and it pained her deeply.

She had resolved to change that outcome. She had come here to save Yinsen.

The Ten Rings had confined them in the deepest part of the cave, separated by a massive iron door. The cave's air was rancid, a sickly mixture of stench and perfume.

"Apologies, I tried using what little perfume I had left to make the air tolerable, but it's no use—the ventilation here is terrible."

"It's fine… but we should hurry. They probably won't give us much time."

Miss Stark shook her head, choosing to use the Space Stone's power to open a portal in a concealed part of the cave. Though she wasn't planning on leaving just yet, a little fresh air was needed.

"They won't let you go if you give them a missile… Your only worth to them is as a weapon-maker."

"And once they've used you up, they'll kill you—and likely kill me too. That's the sort they are."

Dr. Yinsen paused, as though he had more to say, but he stopped himself, his lips forming hesitant words before he sighed.

"Enjoy your last week, miss."

"You're right—we have less than a week, so we need to work faster."

With that, Miss Stark turned her attention to Dr. Yinsen's worktable—a worn wooden desk covered with tools and materials.

"We'll make a weapon, but it's not going to be for them. It's going to be for us—a weapon that can get us out of here."

"By the way, do you have a measuring tape? I need to get your body measurements."

"???"

She had already made up her mind. If she was going to get Yinsen out alive, she'd need to build the Mark I prototype.

However, there was one key difference: the Iron Mark I's pilot would be Yinsen.

Using a tattered measuring tape, she quickly jotted down Dr. Yinsen's measurements. Though he still seemed baffled, he began to understand that Miss Stark had something in mind.

"You… what exactly are you planning?"

"No more questions—go tell them I need high-precision cutting tools, welding equipment, a crucible, and better lighting here in the cave."

"Oh, and I need finished missiles, specifically Stark Industries products. Otherwise, I can't reconfigure the core controls."

Dr. Yinsen nodded and ran over to the iron door to speak with the two Ten Rings guards in their native language.

Miss Stark glanced at him before noting his measurements and other key specs on a scrap of paper, waiting for the Ten Rings to deliver the requested supplies.

A few minutes later, the bald, tattooed leader of the Ten Rings entered, a group of men in tow, yet he bore a smile.

"Wise choice. I think we'll have a good partnership—although, it may take time to gather everything you asked for."

The leader looked at Dr. Yinsen before his gaze rested on Miss Stark.

"The better the tools you provide, the higher quality the missile will be. And, after all, I doubt you'd want substandard missiles from me, would you?"

His predatory gaze lingered, but Miss Stark curbed the impulse to end him right there, keeping her expression cold and businesslike.

"I'll see to your needs, but don't try any tricks, woman."

"It's not easy keeping my men in line, you know. Your only purpose here is to make weapons for us. But if you lose your value… I can't guarantee your safety."

The leader left with his men in tow to gather her tools, and silence fell over the cave. Dr. Yinsen exhaled in relief, sinking onto the worn mattress.

"Alright, enough resting. I need your help."

Miss Stark glanced at Dr. Yinsen, then turned her focus back to the papers on the desk.

"Forgive me, miss, but what exactly are you doing?"

He rose from the mattress, staring at the notes with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

"Just figuring out how to get us out of here."

The Ten Rings were simpleminded folk. Ruthless, perhaps, but they lacked the sophistication to grasp Miss Stark's plans. They had no idea she intended to use the precision tools to craft their way out.

Eager for the weapons she promised, they were willing to fund her every request, no matter the cost—or lack thereof. After all, when had terrorists ever needed to pay?

While Miss Stark's negotiations with the Ten Rings went smoothly, her disappearance had ignited a media frenzy back in the U.S.

What was going on? A CEO travels all the way to Afghanistan for a weapons test, seals the deal, and the next moment, she's kidnapped? Just what were the U.S. forces in Afghanistan doing?

The Stark Industries board was in chaos; without their CEO, operations were disrupted, and even the stock market had taken a heavy hit due to Miss Stark's disappearance.

Had Obadiah Stane not stepped in to restore order within the company, Stark Industries might have imploded.

Her assets extended beyond Stark Industries, including a billion-dollar disaster management company. Both corporations had massive networks, with thousands of subsidiary companies spanning countless industries. Her kidnapping had stunned half of America.

The media swarmed the story, and the public's interest reached unprecedented levels, affecting business for both Stark Industries and her disaster relief company. As a result, both companies' managements united to sue the U.S. Department of Defense in the federal court.

In the U.S., where separation of powers reigns, the government, military, and courts operate independently. Since the 20th century, many Americans had joined forces to sue their government, but this was the first time anyone had taken the Department of Defense to court.

This move captured the public's imagination in a country where independence and freedom are celebrated.

The American government wasn't a monolith; every faction had its own interests. So, the government, relishing that it wasn't the one being sued, gleefully seized the chance to throw the DoD under the bus. After all, military spending was extravagant.

The DoD was caught off guard—besides Miss Stark's connections with certain DoD officials, the fact that an American weapons manufacturer traveled to a war zone and ended up kidnapped was something the country couldn't ignore.

Reporters, like sharks scenting blood, dug relentlessly into the story.

Internal politics shifted rapidly, yet publicly, there remained a united front.

The U.S. government issued a statement to the Afghan government: if the Stark Industries CEO wasn't found within three days, it would take military action to locate the missing citizen.

Miss Stark was oblivious to the frenzy her disappearance had caused. She was busy at work in the cave.

The terrorists possessed several conventional missiles from Stark Industries. After dismantling a number of them, she extracted enough palladium to create a palladium ring the thickness of a wristband, the core for the Arc Reactor.

Palladium crystals are filled with tritium atoms. When two tritium nuclei approach, they fuse—a principle behind cold fusion.

The Arc Reactor was a legacy from Howard Stark. Stark Industries even had a large-scale Arc Reactor, built by Howard and still supplying power to their headquarters.

Now, Miss Stark aimed to miniaturize it to serve as the power source for the Iron Mark I.

The dismantled missiles weren't completely wasted; they yielded enough metal plating to provide armor for the suit.

The Iron Mark I prototype was taking shape. From the steel inner frame to the outer armor plating, Dr. Yinsen contributed much and watched in awe.

The exoskeleton supported the suit, providing enhanced strength and connecting points for outer armor plating repurposed from missile scraps. Though thin, it could block bullets.

Dr. Yinsen was entranced as the Iron Armor took shape before his eyes. The woman before him seemed to overflow with ideas and innovation.

The Iron Mark I was still just a hastily assembled collection of metal scraps. There was no inner cushioning layer—Miss Stark wouldn't strip off her own clothes to line the suit, so this rougher version would have to do.

On the sixth night since her capture, the prototype Iron Mark I, a revolutionary full-body power armor, was completed.

Due to environmental constraints, the suit's capabilities were somewhat reduced.

However, thanks to the high-precision equipment she had "borrowed" from the Ten Rings, Miss Stark's Iron Mark I was far superior to the one created by her counterpart in the other universe.

Alright, it looked good. Metal plating fitted seamlessly, unlike her counterpart's, which left cables and tubing exposed.

Despite its bulk, the suit lacked any electronic display to assist with control.

Its hydraulically powered arms could effortlessly throw an average person five or six meters, destroy iron doors five centimeters thick, and with a single hit, take a man out of action—if not kill him.

A small incendiary canister and a compressed gas tank were mounted on its back and right arm, with flamethrowers in each wrist, making these its only ranged weapons. Oh, and one mini-missile—not exactly devastating, but better than nothing.

If she'd had more time, the Mark I could have had flight capabilities.

Afghanistan, usually dry, was experiencing rain. Humidity crept into the cave, a sticky, uncomfortable dampness. Dr. Yinsen wrapped himself in a blanket, sipping coffee from a mug.

"I'll bet they'd never guess we'd make our move tonight… what are you doing?"

He watched her remove her blanket and head toward the workbench, retrieving a small black box from the drawer, attached to some electronic components and a chain.

"As soon as we start assembling the equipment, they'll suspect something and rush in. This is a little parting gift for whichever idiot barges in—I hope he'll appreciate it. But don't worry, I calculated it carefully. It'll only hit those breaking through the door; we'll be fine."

With that, she attached a makeshift directional explosive to the iron door, fashioned from leftover materials. Dr. Yinsen watched her impassively, a wry smile crossing his lips.

Though a mechanical engineer, he knew little about military technology. He found it hard to grasp the mindset of a military contractor.

However, he couldn't help but marvel at the woman's ingenuity. She had built this Iron Armor from scratch with the most basic tools and his assistance.

And to top it off, she had crafted a directional landmine. Dr. Yinsen couldn't help but wonder how her mind worked.

"Alright, no more gawking. We're on a schedule—get to the platform. I'll help you suit up."

Dr. Yinsen was dumbfounded by her words.

"Wait—wasn't this suit for you?"

He had assumed it was for her own protection. Now, in their final hour, she wanted him, a frail scholar, to don the armor and fight his way out.

"Why else would I ask for your measurements the day I arrived?"

Miss Stark rolled her eyes, signaling for him to follow as she approached a makeshift equipment station.

It wasn't much—just Yinsen's iron cot set upright, some equipment arranged around it to hold the suit, and the bed frame angled to block the surveillance camera.

"What about you?"

Dr. Yinsen frowned, his face tense.

"I have my own way. You're simply too weak; I don't want to divide my attention protecting you. So you'll go first and clear the way."

With a nonchalant shrug, Miss Stark pushed him toward the platform.

"The iron plates can block bullets, so just charge forward with confidence. I'll be right behind you."

As she spoke, she tossed him two leather garments, thicker and more protective than his suit.

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