Chapitre 7: Chapter 7: The Birth of Iron Man
Marcus Young never expected to be part of something world-changing. Even after his accident with the arc reactor and the strange powers it had given him, he thought of himself as just an observer, a small cog in the massive machine that was Stark Industries. But on that particular day, as he stood in the shadows of Stark's private research facility, he realized just how wrong he had been. He wasn't just an observer anymore. He was witnessing the birth of something that would reshape the world.
And the man responsible for it all was none other than Tony Stark.
---
It had been a strange few weeks since Marcus's tense encounter with Obadiah Stane. The man's veiled threats had left Marcus constantly on edge, as if a heavy weight were pressing down on him. Stane's power grab at Stark Industries was well underway, and Marcus had done everything he could to avoid further involvement. But now, as he stood in the shadows of the underground hangar deep beneath Stark Industries, his unease had transformed into something more profound: awe.
Marcus had known Tony Stark was brilliant, but nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to witness. He had heard rumors about a secret project Stark had been working on, something that went beyond the arc reactor. Whispers floated through the halls about "the suit," though no one could say for certain what that meant.
Marcus, still trying to navigate his own newfound powers, had spent more time observing than participating. Watching, learning, figuring out how to manage the abilities that seemed to evolve daily. And now, for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he found himself sneaking down into one of the most restricted areas of Stark Industries, drawn by a quiet, powerful sense that something monumental was about to happen.
---
The underground hangar was a vast, dimly lit expanse. The ceiling stretched impossibly high, and the walls were lined with the most advanced technology Marcus had ever seen. Giant metal doors on one end led to the outside world, a private exit for Stark's personal projects. Rows of heavy-duty machines hummed softly, their mechanical arms suspended, waiting to be activated.
Marcus stayed hidden behind a stack of equipment crates near the edge of the hangar, his heart pounding in his chest. His instincts told him he shouldn't be here—this was Tony's private lab, a place reserved for Stark's closest confidants and engineers. And yet, here he was, compelled to stay by sheer curiosity.
It wasn't long before he heard the faint whirr of motors and the soft thud of footsteps approaching. From the far end of the hangar, Tony Stark emerged, flanked by a robotic assistant that hovered and whizzed around him. Stark was focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he adjusted something on his wrist. He was wearing the beginnings of the now-iconic suit—armor plates of polished silver and gold, with faint blue lights glowing from the arc reactor embedded in his chest.
Marcus froze, his breath catching in his throat. This was the suit—the thing everyone had been whispering about. Tony had been designing it in secret ever since his return from captivity in Afghanistan. While the rest of the world saw a playboy philanthropist recovering from his ordeal, Stark had been working on something extraordinary.
Marcus watched in silence as Tony approached the center of the hangar, speaking aloud to no one in particular—though Marcus knew it was likely to the AI assistant he'd developed.
"Alright, let's run the diagnostics one last time," Tony muttered, his fingers brushing over the sleek gauntlets on his arms. "Flight systems—check. Power levels—looking good. Stabilizers—" he paused, tapping a finger against his chin, "—well, let's hope for the best."
The robotic assistant—a small drone-like machine with a single arm—whirred and beeped in response, running a scan of the suit. Its mechanical voice echoed softly through the hangar, reporting back data in a language Marcus didn't fully understand.
"Thanks, Dum-E," Tony said with a smirk, patting the hovering robot on its arm. "If I crash and burn, it's on you."
From his hidden vantage point, Marcus couldn't help but smile. Tony Stark's confidence was undeniable. He always carried an air of invincibility with him, even in the face of uncertainty. It was as though he truly believed nothing could go wrong as long as he was the one calling the shots.
As Tony continued prepping the suit, Marcus's mind raced. He knew Stark had been in Afghanistan for months, captured by terrorists and presumed dead. The official story was that Stark had miraculously escaped, but Marcus had heard rumors of something else—of Stark building something in the desert, something that had allowed him to survive.
This suit was clearly an evolution of that. Stark had taken whatever crude machine he had created in the caves of Afghanistan and turned it into this—a sleek, advanced exosuit powered by the very same arc reactor technology that had saved his life.
Marcus's fingers tingled with that familiar energy again, the faint hum of his powers reminding him of the connection he shared with Stark's creation. It wasn't just that he had copied Tony's genius—it was more than that. The arc reactor had given them both something, a shared link that Marcus still didn't fully understand.
Tony stood tall now, the suit of armor nearly complete around him. The final piece—a gleaming gold faceplate—lowered over his head, locking into place with a soft *click*. The suit's lights flared brighter as the internal systems came online, a low, mechanical hum filling the air.
"Jarvis, you ready?" Tony asked, his voice now slightly muffled by the helmet.
A calm, British voice echoed from within the suit. "Always, sir."
Marcus's heart raced. This was it. Tony Stark was about to take flight.
---
The suit's repulsors ignited with a sharp hiss, blue energy flaring from the gauntlets and boots. For a brief moment, Stark remained grounded, adjusting the power levels and stabilizers. Then, with a sudden surge of energy, he lifted off the ground, hovering a few feet in the air.
Marcus held his breath, watching in awe as Tony Stark floated effortlessly above the floor, his arms extended slightly for balance. The suit hummed with power, the arc reactor glowing brightly in the center of his chest. Stark wobbled for a second, then steadied himself, the repulsors shifting and adjusting to his movements.
"Looking good," Tony muttered to himself. "Let's see what you've got."
With a sudden burst of energy, Tony shot forward, flying across the length of the hangar in a blur of silver and gold. The sound of the repulsors reverberated off the walls, and Marcus had to fight the urge to cheer out loud. Stark's movements were smooth and controlled, the suit responding to his every command with pinpoint accuracy.
Tony made a sharp turn at the far end of the hangar, his body twisting in midair as he looped back toward the center of the room. He was testing the limits of the suit, pushing it harder and faster with each pass. Marcus could see the raw excitement on Tony's face, even through the tinted visor of the helmet. This wasn't just a test run—this was a man flying for the first time, breaking the laws of physics and gravity with nothing but his own genius.
From the shadows, Marcus felt a surge of something he hadn't felt in a long time—hope. Stark wasn't just building a weapon or a piece of military hardware. This was something far more important. This suit represented possibility, the idea that one man, armed with the right tools and the right vision, could change the world.
The suit soared higher now, Tony flying in tighter, faster loops, testing the limits of the repulsors. The sound of the engines echoed through the hangar, a high-pitched whine that sent shivers down Marcus's spine. Stark was in complete control, and for a moment, it seemed like nothing could go wrong.
But then, something did.
As Stark accelerated toward the far end of the hangar, the suit suddenly shuddered, and Marcus saw a flicker of sparks shoot from one of the gauntlets. Tony's body jerked to the side, and for a split second, the suit lost stability. He wobbled in the air, the repulsors sputtering as they struggled to regain control.
"Jarvis?" Tony's voice crackled through the suit's speakers, a hint of alarm creeping into his tone.
"Minor malfunction in the right stabilizer, sir," Jarvis responded calmly. "Compensating now."
Tony gritted his teeth, fighting to maintain control as the suit dipped and swayed. Marcus's heart leaped into his throat as he watched Stark struggle to stay airborne. For a moment, it looked like Tony might crash—might fall from the sky and slam into the ground with a fatal impact.
But Tony Stark wasn't a man who gave up easily.
"Come on, you piece of junk," Tony muttered, adjusting the suit's power levels manually. "Stay with me."
With a final burst of energy, the suit's systems realigned, and Tony leveled out, hovering a few feet above the ground. Marcus let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
Tony exhaled sharply, the tension in his body visibly relaxing. He slowly lowered himself to the ground, the repulsors powering down as his feet touched the floor with a soft thud.
For a long moment, there was silence. Tony stood there, breathing heavily, the suit still glowing faintly in the dim light of the hangar. Marcus stayed hidden, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn't sure what to expect next.
Then, slowly, Tony raised his hands and lifted the faceplate of the helmet, revealing a wide, triumphant grin.
"Well," Tony said, his voice breathless but filled with exhilaration, "that was awesome."
---
From his hiding place, Marcus couldn't help but smile. He had just witnessed history—the birth of Iron Man. Stark had done it. He had created something incredible, something that defied the limits of human ingenuity.
But as the adrenaline of the moment began to fade, Marcus's thoughts turned darker. He had seen the joy on Stark's face, the thrill of his success, but he also knew that Tony had enemies—powerful enemies who wouldn't hesitate to exploit this new technology for their own gain.
Obadiah Stane was one of those enemies. Marcus hadn't forgotten the man's words, his thinly veiled threats about taking over Stark Industries and using Tony's creations for his own purposes. Stane didn't care about Stark's vision of a better world. He cared about power, and Marcus knew that if Stane got his hands on this suit, it would be disastrous.
Marcus's chest tightened as the weight of his situation pressed down on him. He couldn't just stand by and watch as Stark's work was corrupted. He had to do something. He had to protect Tony, even if it meant risking everything.
But for now, Marcus stayed in the shadows, watching as Tony Stark—Iron Man—began dismantling the suit, already planning improvements, already thinking about the future.
And in that moment, Marcus made a silent vow.
Whatever came next, he would stand with Tony Stark.
Because the world was about to change, and Marcus knew he was no longer just an observer. He was part of this story now.
---
As Tony finished his post-flight check, Marcus quietly slipped out of the hangar, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. He had seen the future, and it was made of iron and repulsors, of genius and power.
And soon, the rest of the world would see it too.
The birth of Iron Man had only just begun.
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