Inside the command tent, the stale air was thick with tension.
Luthar moved silently through the narrow space, his presence calm but calculated. Across the table, Liliruca adjusted her terminal straps, glancing toward the canvas entrance every few seconds. The camp outside had grown too quiet.
Without a word, Luthar reached into the satchel at his side and produced a palm-sized, steel-gray module. A faint hum came from its core—barely audible but distinctly charged.
> "Catch," he said simply, tossing it to her.
Liliruca caught it mid-air, eyebrows rising.
He gave a single nod. "I'm guessing you'll need it to survive this."
Before she could ask why, a deafening boom tore through the silence.
Dust drifted down from the seams in the tent ceiling. The servo-skull hovering near the entrance jolted in its path, its auspex lens flaring red.
"What in the hell—" Liliruca began.
A second explosion followed—closer, sharper. The roar of ignited fuel. A ripple of detonation. Screams echoed faintly beyond the tent—then silence.
Without warning, the front of the tent burst into flame.
Canvas shriveled. Heat poured in like a living creature. The flap disintegrated, and firelight bled into the chamber.
Luthar didn't flinch.
He turned toward the opening, mechanical eye narrowing as the servo-skull hovered to his shoulder.
Through the haze stepped a monstrous figure—encased in crude, riveted iron.
Encased in the Mark I suit, fire licking across the metal plating, the inventor's every step pounded the dirt like a war drum. His flame unit surged and spat, leaving trails of scorched earth and smoking canvas.
Luthar tapped the comm in his ear.
"Lily. Activate the shield."
She didn't hesitate. With a sharp flick, the device in her hand pulsed and expanded, surrounding them in a dome of bluish energy just as fire washed across it like a wave.
Inside, the heat shimmered, but they remained untouched.
Tony's voice crackled through a rough speaker on the suit's chest.
"You think your little magic bubble makes you invincible?" His tone cracked—caught between rage and disbelief.
Luthar's eyes narrowed. From the information gathered last night, he was reasonably sure this world aligned with one of the Marvel timelines. But he hadn't realized he was in the very terrorist camp that had captured Tony Stark. That explained the improvised suit. And the fury.
Even so, Luthar remained impassive. Even if Stark comes with the Mark 65, it wouldn't change the outcome. He'd still lose.
"Do you want me to shoot him?" Liliruca asked.
He didn't answer. He simply pressed two fingers to the hovering servo-skull and issued a silent command.
Luthar stepped out, leaving Liliruca protected behind the energy barrier.
Tony turned, flames sputtering from his gauntlet. He paused, blinking behind the slits of his helmet.
"What are you supposed to be? Some kind of Halloween monk?"
"Guess it doesn't matter. You're standing in front of a flamethrower." saying this He pulled the trigger.
A burst of fire exploded toward Luthar, filling the space between them in an inferno of heat and smoke.
The flames licked across his armored robes and metallic limbs, yet nothing caught, nothing scorched. He moved through it like a machine—unaffected, unafraid.
"...Okay. That's new." saying this Tony increased pressure. Another stream of fire. Still nothing.
Luthar advanced steadily.
Tony triggered his jump thrusters. The suit whined, engines coughing—but before he could lift off, Luthar struck.
In one swift motion, he grabbed Tony's right gauntlet and twisted.
Metal screamed. The joint bent—then snapped clean off.
> "Hey—wait—!" Tony's voice was a little Panicked.
The left arm followed. Luthar tore it loose and flung it aside. The suit sagged.
Tony tried to aim—Luthar stomped down, crushing the armor underfoot.
With a hard shove, he pushed Tony to the ground and pressed a palm to the chestplate.
Steel creaked. Bolts popped.
Then the armor peeled open.
There, glowing faintly beneath wires and exposed plating, was the arc reactor.
> "Can't you be more gentle?" Tony gasped. "I was planning to keep this as a souvenir."
Luthar's mechanical eye zoomed in on the device.
> [Analysis: Crude artificial core. Non-Warp energy signature. Moderate stability. Multiversal compatibility—low. Potential usage: auxiliary power cell.]
> "Efficient," Luthar murmured. "But unrefined."
Tony let out a dry laugh.
> "Yeah? At least I'm not walking around with a pet skull watching over my shoulder."
Luthar stepped back, letting Tony slump further into the remains of the Mark I. The servo-skull floated closer, its auspex scanning the battered armor.
> "So…" Tony rasped, still catching his breath. "You with the lunatics who locked me up?"
"No," Luthar answered coldly.
Luthar didn't respond immediately. His attention remained fixed on the arc reactor, reading output signatures, power stability, and design logic.
"You're going to Force me?" Tony asked. "Tear out the rest of the suit and ask me to build a new one?"
Luthar finally looked down at him.
"No. I'm not interested in your low-level technology."
Tony grunted, shifting under the shattered frame.
"Come on, this thing's at least ten years ahead of anything the military has."
"Yes—for your country, maybe," Luthar said flatly. "But for me? It's scrap. At least for now."
He turned away, cape brushing against the soot-darkened ground.
"Lily," he said over the comm-bead, "stabilize him. Monitor the arc device—no removal until I confirm compatibility."
From behind the remnants of the shield, Liliruca stepped through the haze. Her boots crunched on burned gravel as she took in the scene: twisted armor, scorched earth, and Tony Stark—alive, but barely.
She gave a tired sigh.
"Looks like we got a weird guy."
Luthar didn't answer.
His gaze was already in the sky.
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