I moved from my hiding spot before the sun climbed any higher.
The heat intensified as I circled wide, staying low and using the folds in the terrain as Eli had taught me. I wrapped a strip of cloth around my head, tying it tightly to shield my face from the sun and soak up the sweat. The heat was already brutal; the ground absorbed the sun's rays and radiated warmth, creating a dryness in my mouth.
By the time I reached the spot Yinsen had indicated, my uniform was damp with sweat, and my muscles ached from exertion. It was difficult to move stealthily through the rough terrain.
I flattened myself against the ground and crawled the last stretch on my stomach, my rifle slung tight, my elbows burning against rock and dirt. I settled behind a low rise with a boulder at my back and pulled out my binoculars.
11:45.
Fifteen minutes.
The camp looked different in daylight.
It was smaller than I had imagined but denser and more organized. Some pickup trucks sat on the far side, their beds stacked with crates and their drivers lounging nearby. Tents clustered near the cave mouth, with armed men moving lazily rifles slung, some smoking, others arguing.
And the crates. There were many of them.
Stark Industries stencils stared back at me through the glass, missiles, guidance components, bleeding-edge tech. Enough smuggled hardware to outfit a small army.
The military really dropped the ball on this one...
I had brought only light gear: ballistic armor, a rifle, a sidearm, binoculars, and water. No unnecessary weight; if something went wrong, speed was all I had.
12:05.
There was some movement near the cave.
Yinsen stepped out alone, carrying something in his hand. He moved carefully through the tents; the guards didn't mind him as he walked slowly toward my location.
My pulse spiked.
I slid backward and shifted position, keeping the boulder between us. It took him another fifteen minutes to reach me. I rose just enough to show my face—slowly, with my hands visible.
He flinched, then relaxed slightly and moved a little closer.
"Don't panic," I whispered. "I'm Eli, with the U.S. Army."
His eyes flicked to my rifle, then back to my face.
"How's Tony Stark?" I asked quietly.
Yinsen nodded once. "He's injured but fine now. I had to perform emergency surgery."
That made sense. Shrapnel. Arc reactor.
I nodded slowly, then asked, "Can you get him out now?"
Yinsen shook his head immediately. "No, the security is too tight; they have cameras watching us."
Figures.
"We need to leave, Yinsen, as soon as we can," I said.
There was a pause, then a small, tired smile. "Yes. Stark said the same. He is… encouraged. He is building armor."
I exhaled through my nose. Good...
"We need a sat phone or a radio," I said. "The U.S. military will be looking for him. It's strange they haven't found us yet."
Yinsen nodded, looking serious now. "I will try. I will speak with Stark; we'll meet again at midnight. Same place."
"And bring some water," I added after a moment. "If you can."
He inclined his head once and slipped back toward the cave without another word.
I stayed still for a full minute after he disappeared.
Then another.
Only when I was sure no one had noticed did I retreat, slow and careful, back through the rocks to my hideout. I settled into the crevice and leaned my head back against the stone.
This was really happening.
I was inside Iron Man's origin story, armed with a rifle, a relic, and no plot armor.
Sooner or later, there was going to be a firefight.
A single stray round could kill me. A lucky shot to the head, and that would be it. No Sith trick was fixing that.
The thought stuck.
I closed my eyes.
The Codex opened eagerly, pages shifting, structures rearranging, as if it sensed my fear and the opportunity before me. Something surfaced near the front. It was crude.
Ossific Reinforcement. Bone lattice densification.
Micro-structural strengthening of the skull.
I stared at it.
This felt like crossing a line, changing myself in a way I couldn't undo.
But the line didn't matter if I was dead.
I ate the last of my biscuits, drank a careful mouthful of water, and braced myself against the rock. Then I reached in and pulled.
The pain came fast and deep, pressure behind my eyes, a grinding sensation inside my skull, like something knitting from the inside out. I bit down hard on my sleeve to keep from screaming.
All I felt was heat and compression.
A sense of weight settling in my skull where it hadn't been before.
Then darkness.
I woke hours later to a dim, cool world.
My head throbbed, but it felt… solid. Heavier somehow. I sat up slowly, breathing carefully, and checked myself.
My head hurt a little, but I felt lighter, too. Leaner. My uniform hung a bit looser on my frame.
I had lost more weight.
I sat up slowly, testing the sensation, rolling my neck an inch at a time. There was no pain in my bones or dizziness—just a strange pressure, as if my skull had been packed tighter from the inside.
I closed my eyes and focused inward.
There were now layers in my skull that hadn't existed before. The outer layer felt reinforced, subtly thickened, and the internal lattice reworked into something closer to a composite metal than human bone. It wasn't unbreakable, but a low-caliber round? A glancing hit?
It would stop it from punching straight through to my brain.
I swallowed.
I didn't know if this had been the right move. Reinforcing my head felt like admitting I expected to get shot and that I was changing myself. But what was done was done. No undoing it now.
I checked my watch.
19:02.
Night had already settled in fully. The cold crept back in as the heat of the day bled out of the rocks. I finished the last of my MRE, cold ravioli scraped from the pouch with my spoon, and drank a careful swallow of water to wash it down. It wasn't enough, but it would have to do.
I lifted the binoculars again.
Down below, the camp had shifted into its evening routine. Fires burned low and steady. Men sat in loose groups, eating from tins and laughing. There were fewer patrols now and more complacency. I stayed still for a long time, letting my pulse slow.
Then I packed up.
Everything I could carry went on: armor tightened, rifle checked, sidearm secured. NVGs mounted and ready. Binoculars clipped. Knife accessible. No rucksack this time, too much weight.
By the time I reached the meeting spot again, it was just before midnight.
Yinsen emerged from the shadows alone, moving carefully, shoulders hunched against the cold. He held a small canteen and a wrapped bundle.
"Water," he whispered, handing it over. "And food."
I opened the cloth. Flatbread. A few spoonfuls of chickpeas mashed with oil. Something that smelled faintly metallic and burnt, leftovers from whatever they had been eating.
I didn't hesitate and started eating. I needed food after the ritual.
As I ate, Yinsen spoke quietly. "Tony wants to move immediately. The armor is not complete, but he says it will be enough for a single fight. You will need to arrange our getaway."
"I noticed the trucks on the other side; we can use them," I said. "I'll sabotage the others."
He hesitated. "Are we leaving..."
"No, it's too early, and the camp is still active," I said before I could think better of it. "We leave before dawn, and you need to get a sat phone or a radi, —anything that can reach the U.S. military."
Yinsen nodded, nervous but resolute. "I will try."
"Remember, we leave before dawn," I continued. "Four, maybe earlier."
"Yes," he said. "Before sunrise."
I met his eyes. "If anything feels off, anything at all, you stop the plan. We can try again later. No heroics, Yinsen."
You were supposed to die.
He gave a thin smile. "You are the heroics, my friend."
I shook my head. "I'm just a medic who doesn't want to die."
That earned a quiet laugh. He clasped my arm once and slipped back toward the cave.
I stayed where I was.
The camp grew quieter as the hour stretched on. Fires burned lower. Men drifted toward tents. Patrols thinned. The trucks sat dark and silent at the edge of the camp.
I flipped down my NVGs and watched.
The cold gnawed at my fingers. My breath fogged faintly inside my mask. I checked my watch again.
03:17.
This was it.
I let out a slow breath and moved.
I slid down from the rocks, staying low, weaving between boulders and supply stacks. Every step was quiet and careful. My rifle was raised, safety off, finger straight along the frame.
I reached the trucks.
Old Toyotas. Worn and dust-caked.
I tried the driver's door on the nearest one. It opened with a soft metallic click.
No key.
I left it cracked open and moved around the vehicle, scanning the shadows.
Nothing.
No one watching.
Keys would be on the driver or near him.
I spotted a tent nearby, low and dark. A shape lay inside, barely visible in the green glow of my NVGs.
I recognized the scarf immediately.
The same man who'd driven the truck earlier.
My mouth went dry.
I didn't want to do this.
But I needed the keys.
I moved closer, every nerve screaming. He was asleep on his side, rifle propped nearby, breathing slowly. Peacefully.
I drew my knife.
The motion felt unreal, like watching someone else's hands. I knelt, pressed the blade where Eli's training said to, and cut.
It was fast. Silent.
The body jerked once and went still.
I stayed there for a second, staring down at him, chest tight.
I shook myself and searched him quickly.
I found the keys in his pocket.
I exhaled in relief, and my fingers brushed wetness.
Blood.
The Codex surged.
It lunged in my mind.
For an instant, my perception twisted. I could feel the body under my hands not as a corpse but as material. Muscle fibers. Bone. Organs. Horrible possibilities—reshaping, consuming.
I recoiled as if I'd touched fire.
"No," I whispered, breath hitching. "No."
The hunger receded slowly back into the Codex. It lingered at the edges of my awareness, patient, as if it knew I would use it again.
I stumbled back, heart pounding, and forced myself away from the body.
What had I just seen?
I reached the truck again, shaking, and fumbled the keys into the ignition. I paused, suddenly struck by a sick thought, if Yinsen called off the escape now, I'd have killed a man for nothing. I'd be trapped here, in the middle of enemy territory.
Idiot, I told myself. Absolute idiot.
Then...
A flash at the cave entrance.
A split second of bright white light.
And a deep, concussive thud that rolled through the gorge like thunder.
Dust and debris blasted out of the cave mouth, billowing into the night. Shouts erupted. Alarms rang into the dark.
The camp exploded into chaos.
I stared for half a second—heart hammering, ears ringing—then snapped into motion.
This is it.