After receiving the call, Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes immediately dispatched a fighter jet to escort Tony Stark back to the United States.
For once, Tony was silent. He wasn't the flamboyant playboy who had boarded the plane to Afghanistan with champagne in hand and a flight crew dancing in the aisle.
This ordeal had left its mark on him. His body bore injuries, but his mind carried a deeper wound—the sight of his weapons in the hands of violent insurgents.
And then there was that mysterious man from the East. Why hadn't he saved Tony outright? Why had he seemed… worried about dying?
There was much for Tony to process.
Back in America.
A wall of reporters waited at the airport, cameras ready. The story was irresistible: a top scientist, billionaire, and notorious playboy kidnapped by terrorists—now finally returned.
When Tony stepped off the plane, Pepper Potts and his friend-bodyguard, Happy Hogan, were already there.
Pepper nearly burst into tears as she rushed forward, locking him in a fierce embrace.
"I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered.
Tony forced a half-smile. "Well, I'm here now. Don't cry—you'll ruin your makeup."
"Alright, my turn," Happy said, moving in.
Since Pepper wouldn't let go, Happy simply leaned in, making it a three-way hug that had Tony wincing. "Ow!"
Pepper's eyes fell to Tony's chest. "What happened? Are you hurt? We need to get you to a hospital—"
Tony shook his head. "Later. I have something more important. Happy, get me a cheeseburger. And set up a press conference."
Within hours, Tony was at a press briefing, sitting on the floor beside the podium, cheeseburger in hand.
"You know," he began, "the best part about food isn't the food itself—it's the circumstances. I've eaten the best cheeseburgers and grilled chicken in the world… in a cave."
He took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Now I'm back, eating one of the best burgers money can buy, and it's still not a tenth as good as the one I had there."
"I owe thanks to the man who brought it to me. He delivered the best meal I've ever had… and saved my life. I don't know his motives, but unless he's out to destroy the world, I'll do whatever I can to repay him."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Was Tony talking about a delivery guy? Had they misunderstood the whole kidnapping?
One reporter finally asked, "Mr. Stark, with all due respect… were you kidnapped, or on vacation?"
Tony's voice grew firm. "I was kidnapped. I spent over a month in a cave, wounded by a bomb. I still have shrapnel in my chest—this arc reactor is keeping me alive."
Gasps filled the room. It was one thing to speculate, but another to hear it from Stark himself.
Another reporter pressed, "And this… delivery man? Were your captors ordering takeout?"
"I can't share more right now," Tony said. "But I do have another announcement."
The room quieted instantly.
"I never got to say goodbye to my father. I had questions—questions about whether he ever doubted himself. I saw young Americans killed… by weapons I built to protect them. I realized I can do more for the world than make explosions."
"Effective immediately, Stark Industries will cease all weapons manufacturing."
The room erupted in chaos. Questions were shouted, but Tony ignored them and left with Happy.
Elsewhere.
Lock had arranged for Ho Yinsen to be placed under Dr. Samuel Stern's care. The two scientists hit it off instantly, sharing ideas late into the night.
When Lock saw Tony's announcement on the news, he knew what would follow: the Iron Man suit was about to evolve.
A few nights later, a gleaming, humanoid figure launched into the sky from Tony's Malibu estate. Lock watched from an open-air bar, beer in hand. The armor—raw silver metal, unpainted, d—was unmistakably the Mark I prototype.
He also knew its flaw: no anti-icing system.
Sure enough, Tony climbed higher.
Ten thousand feet. Twenty thousand. Thirty. Eighty.
"Potentially fatal ice forming, sir," Jarvis warned.
"Keep going," Tony replied. "Haven't beaten the altitude record yet."
Ice soon encrusted the suit, freezing the systems. The thrusters sputtered.
"Uh-oh…"
Tony plummeted.
Lock frowned. In the original timeline, the systems would've thawed just before impact. But this time, smoke poured from the joints—no restart.
A gust of wind blasted the bar as Lock vanished from his seat.
By the time he arrived, Tony had already slammed into the ground, carving a crater.
Lock ripped off the helmet.
Tony coughed up blood, managing a weak grin. "We meet again."
"Why are you always in trouble when I find you?" Lock muttered.
Jarvis's voice crackled from the suit. "Spinal fracture in three places. Bilateral leg fractures. Internal bleeding. Estimated survival without intervention: under twenty minutes."
Tony's breaths grew shallow, punctured lung.
Lock pulled a vial from his belt. "Drink. I bear some responsibility for this."
Tony shook his head. "Not your fault… I rushed things."
But Lock knew better. By rescuing Tony early, he'd deprived him of the months in the cave he needed to perfect the suit. The missing refinements had led to this failure.
A small change, Lock thought grimly, can reshape the whole story.
"Drink," he ordered. "Five more minutes and you'll be gone."
He poured the glowing green liquid down Tony's throat. The light spread through him, knitting bones, sealing wounds—though the arc reactor wound remained untouched.
Tony exhaled. "This… same stuff you gave Ho Yinsen? Incredible. If you could mass-produce it—"
"Not possible," Lock said flatly.
When Tony tried to stand, the dead weight of the steel armor pinned him.
"I'll help you out of it," Lock offered.
"Wait," Tony said quickly. "I need to check the systems first."
Lock sighed. "Guess I'll just have to carry you again. You're the only man I've ever carried twice—so this one's gonna cost extra."
He scooped Tony up and leapt toward Malibu.