Marvel: The saiyan

For months, I had been watching, waiting, and preparing. Training wasn't enough anymore. My strength had grown exponentially, but power without purpose was meaningless. I needed more than just strength—I needed tools, resources, and connections to take me to the next level.

And in this world, no name was more synonymous with brilliance and innovation than Tony Stark.

When the news broke that Stark was heading to Afghanistan to demonstrate the Jericho missile, I knew the moment I'd been waiting for had arrived. This was it. The moment that would change Stark's life forever—and set my plan into motion.

So I followed.

Tracking the convoy wasn't difficult. The scouter clipped over my left ear had picked up the faint energy signatures of the vehicles long before they came into view. I hovered high above them, cloaking my energy to avoid detection.

It played out exactly as I remembered.

The explosion ripped through the lead Humvee, sending a plume of fire and smoke into the air. Soldiers scrambled for cover, barking orders as rockets and bullets rained down from the cliffs. Chaos consumed the convoy in seconds.

I felt a bit guilty leaving the soldiers to die but I still had to follow the plan.

I saw Stark stumble out of the second vehicle, his expression shifting from confusion to fear as he took in the scene. He wasn't a soldier. He didn't belong here.

And that's when it happened—the second explosion.

The blast threw Stark off his feet, and I saw him clutch his chest, his face twisting in pain. He'd been hit—not by the explosion itself, but by the shrapnel tearing into his chest. He dropped to his knees, blood seeping through his shirt, before collapsing.

The Ten Rings descended on the convoy like vultures. Soldiers fell one by one, overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Stark, unconscious and bleeding, was dragged away by two masked men.

I clenched my fists, my instincts screaming at me to intervene. Every fiber of my being wanted to leap into the fray, to tear through the attackers and save them then and there.

But I didn't.

This wasn't the moment. Stark's abduction was the catalyst for everything that would follow—for him, for the world, and for me. If I acted now, I'd disrupt the chain of events that would shape him into Iron Man. And consequently making my future knowledge useless.

So I stayed hidden, watching as the Ten Rings loaded Stark into a truck and disappeared into the mountains.

For the next several days, I tracked the Ten Rings to their hidden base. They were clever, moving through the rough terrain and covering their tracks, but it wasn't enough to shake me. I followed from above, my scouter locked onto Stark's faint energy signature.

Eventually, I found it: a sprawling cave system carved into the side of a mountain. The base was heavily guarded, with sentries posted at every entrance and patrols circling the perimeter. I perched on a rocky ledge overlooking the base, using the scouter to map out its layout and study the guards' movements.

But my focus was on Stark.

Through the scouter's zoom function, I observed him inside the base. He was kept in a large cavern, chained to a workbench alongside another man—Ho Yinsen, the man who would save his life.

From my vantage point, I could see everything. Stark sat slumped in a chair, his face pale and drawn from blood loss. Yinsen worked beside him, his movements calm and methodical as he adjusted the device strapped to Stark's chest.

It was the arc reactor—the prototype that would keep the shrapnel from reaching his heart.

"This is ridiculous," Stark muttered, his voice hoarse. "Do they really think I'm going to build them a Jericho missile in a cave? With, what, a box of scraps?"

"You'll do it," Yinsen replied, his tone measured. "Or at least, you'll make them think you're doing it."

Stark scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "You're awfully calm for someone who's about to die."

Yinsen glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I made my peace with death a long time ago, Stark. But you? You're not ready to die. Not yet."

Stark's smirk faltered, and for a moment, he looked away.

"That thing in your chest," Yinsen continued, nodding toward the arc reactor, "is proof that you're alive for a reason. Maybe it's to build weapons. Maybe it's something else. But if you want to survive, you'd better start figuring out what that reason is."

The silence between them was heavy, the kind of silence that only comes when the weight of truth is laid bare.

I watched, fascinated by the interplay between them. Stark, the arrogant genius who thought he was invincible, and Yinsen, the humble doctor who had already accepted his mortality. Together, they were an unlikely pair, but I could see the beginnings of something in Stark's eyes—a spark of change.

Over the next few days, I observed as Stark and Yinsen began their work. The guards, unaware of what was truly happening, believed they were building the Jericho missile. But I knew better. Piece by piece, Stark was assembling the Mark I—the first Iron Man suit.

I watched as he welded the crude metal plates together, his movements growing more confident as his strength returned. Yinsen assisted him, keeping the guards at bay with clever distractions and carefully worded reassurances.

But Stark's frustration was obvious.

"This is insane," he muttered one evening, throwing a wrench across the workshop. "Even if we finish this thing, how are we supposed to get out of here? There's an army out there, in case you haven't noticed."

"Then you'd better hope this works," Yinsen said, his tone dry.

Stark sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "You're awfully optimistic for a guy in our position."

"It's not optimism," Yinsen replied. "It's survival."

From the shadows, I took in every detail—the layout of the base, the guards' rotations, the supplies being brought in. But my focus always returned to Stark and Yinsen. Well not that I particularly needed it but it was distracting since I had nothing to do apart from looking at them.

I admired Yinsen's calm in the face of death, his ability to keep Stark grounded even as the odds stacked higher against them. And Stark… he was changing. Slowly, but surely, the cracks in his arrogant facade were beginning to show.

It was fascinating to watch.

But I knew their time was running out.

The Ten Rings weren't idiots. Eventually, they'd realize what Stark and Yinsen were really building. When that happened, the two of them wouldn't last long.

That was when I'd make my move.

As the days passed, I refined my plan. I couldn't act too soon or too late. I needed to wait for the exact moment when Stark and Yinsen were on the verge of escape—when Stark's trust in Yinsen was at its peak.

By saving Yinsen, I'd secure Stark's loyalty. And once Stark trusted me, I'd have the leverage I needed to get him to work for me.

For now, I'd stay in the shadows, watching and waiting.

"Just a little longer," I muttered to myself, my gaze locked on the cave. "Soon, it'll be time to act."

As the days passed, my patience was running thin. Sure, watching Stark and Yinsen work was fascinating for a while, but after hours of the same welding and hammering, even I started to get bored.

So, to pass the time, I decided to enjoy a little break.

Perched on a rocky outcrop overlooking the Ten Rings' base, I switched off my scouter and dug into the stash of supplies I'd brought along. I had loaded up on all the essentials—protein bars, jerky, and a couple of cans of soda I'd snagged from a gas station on my way here. Saiyan appetites weren't a joke, and if I was going to sit around watching these guys all day, I needed fuel.

Tearing into a packet of jerky, I let out a satisfied sigh. "Man, being a stalker is hard work," I muttered to myself, leaning back against the rock. "No wonder Goku was always eating between fights."

As I munched on my meal, my eyes drifted back toward the cave. I could faintly hear Stark's voice echoing out, probably complaining about the lack of proper tools again.

"Yeah, yeah, Stark," I said, talking to no one in particular as I took a swig from my soda. "Life's tough in a cave."

For a moment, everything was peaceful. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the mountains, and the faint hum of activity from the base below blended into the background.

Then I felt it—a flicker of movement behind me.

I froze, my tail twitching slightly as my Saiyan instincts kicked in. Slowly, I turned my head, jerky still dangling from my mouth, and locked eyes with one of the Ten Rings' scouts.

The guy was young, probably no older than twenty, and he looked just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. He was holding a rifle, but his hands were shaking so badly he might as well have been holding a stick.

For a long moment, we just stared at each other, both too stunned to react.

"...Uh," I said around the piece of jerky in my mouth, raising a hand in an awkward wave.

The scout blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he seemed to gather his wits enough to start raising his rifle.

I sighed, dropping the jerky back into the bag and brushing crumbs off my hands. "Man, you just had to ruin my lunch break, didn't you?"

Before he could even aim, I flicked my wrist, firing off a small ki blast that hit him square in the chest. He let out a startled yelp before flying backward and crashing into a nearby rock, unconscious before he hit the ground.

"Oops," I muttered, standing up and dusting myself off. "Guess I overdid it."

Walking over to where the scout had landed, I poked him with the tip of my boot, making sure he was out cold.

"Yup. Definitely not getting up anytime soon."

I glanced back toward the cave, where the Ten Rings were still blissfully unaware of what had just happened. Letting out a sigh, I dragged the unconscious scout behind a nearby boulder and piled some rocks on top of him for good measure.

"Stay put," I said, patting the makeshift rock pile like I was tucking him into bed. "And next time, don't sneak up on someone who's eating. It's rude."

Shaking my head, I returned to my spot, picking up my half-finished meal and plopping back down.

"Well, that's one way to burn off some calories," I muttered, popping open another can of soda.

Back in the cave, Stark's voice echoed faintly through the canyon again.

"For the love of God, Yinsen, can you hand me the damn wrench already? My hands are full!"

"Patience," Yinsen replied calmly. "If your life depended on it, you'd learn to multitask better."

"It does depend on it!" Stark shot back, exasperated.

I snorted, nearly choking on my soda. "This guy is going to become one of the world's greatest heroes? Good luck with that, Earth."

Shoving the empty jerky wrapper into my backpack, I leaned back against the rock and stared up at the sky. My grin widened as I thought about what was coming.

"Alright, Stark," I said, more to myself than anyone else. "Have your little meltdown. Once you're ready, I'll be here to clean up the mess."

The sunlight ahead grew brighter as we sprinted toward the cave's exit, the dry desert heat hitting us like a furnace. The Ten Rings' frantic shouts echoed behind us, mixed with the sound of collapsing stone and the clang of heavy machinery.

I didn't bother looking back. Stark's lumbering footsteps in the Mark I suit were loud enough to let me know he was still moving, and Yinsen, despite his injury, kept pace as best he could.

"Almost there!" I called, throwing a quick glance over my shoulder. The shadows of the Ten Rings' remaining guards flickered against the rocky walls as they pursued us. Raising my hand, I fired a precise ki blast behind us. The explosion lit up the corridor, scattering debris and forcing the guards to scramble for cover.

"You make this look way too easy!" Stark's voice boomed through the suit's crude speakers, equal parts admiration and irritation.

"That's because it is easy," I shot back, smirking as I vaulted over a fallen beam blocking the path. "For me, at least."

"Glad one of us is having fun," Stark muttered, the heavy frame of the Mark I barely squeezing past the beam.

Yinsen stumbled slightly, clutching his side where the bullet had grazed him. I caught him before he could collapse.

"Careful, doc," I said, steadying him with one arm. "We're not out of this yet."

Yinsen gave me a strained smile. "I'll manage. Just keep going."

"Good," I said with a playful grin. "Because I'm not carrying you and Stark's oversized tin can."

That earned a faint chuckle from Yinsen, though his face was pale, and his steps were growing slower.

The exit was less than 50 feet away when we burst out into the blinding sunlight of the open desert. I squinted against the harsh glare, my eyes quickly adjusting to the sight of the Ten Rings' camp spread out before us.

It wasn't much—just a cluster of makeshift tents and supply crates scattered around the rocky terrain. A handful of guards were stationed near the entrance, all of them frozen in shock at the sight of us.

"Time to say goodbye to your lovely camp," Stark said, the flamethrowers on his suit roaring to life.

A wall of fire erupted from the Mark I, engulfing the tents and supplies in seconds. The camp descended into chaos as the remaining Ten Rings guards scrambled to put out the flames or grab their weapons.

"That should keep them busy," Stark said, his voice tinged with satisfaction as he stomped forward in the suit.

"Don't get cocky," I warned, spotting a group of guards raising their rifles. "They're not done yet."

A hail of gunfire erupted from the guards, the bullets ricocheting harmlessly off the Mark I's crude metal armor. Stark raised one of his arms, unleashing a burst of fire that sent the guards diving for cover.

But there were more of them now, emerging from behind crates and boulders, weapons aimed not just at Stark but at Yinsen, who was limping behind him, completely exposed.

"Seriously, Stark, learn to aim," I muttered, stepping forward.

With a flick of my wrist, I unleashed a barrage of ki blasts, each one striking its target with pinpoint accuracy. One by one, the guards were thrown backward, their weapons flying from their hands as explosions ripped through the camp.

The last guard, clearly realizing this wasn't a fight he could win, dropped his rifle and bolted toward the rocky hills.

"Not so fast," I said, raising a hand. A single ki blast zipped through the air, striking the ground in front of him and sending him tumbling into the sand.

"Nice," Stark said, turning to look at me. "Remind me not to piss you off."

"Trust me, you're already on thin ice," I replied with a smirk.

The camp was in ruins now, the once-chaotic shouts of the Ten Rings replaced by the crackle of flames and the faint sound of groaning from the few guards who hadn't been knocked unconscious.

"Alright, we're clear," I said, glancing back at Yinsen, who was leaning heavily against a crate. "Let's move before reinforcements show up."

We regrouped a short distance away, finding a spot behind a rocky outcrop that shielded us from view. Smoke from the burning camp billowed into the sky behind us, a clear signal to anyone nearby that something had gone horribly wrong.

Stark, still in his suit, collapsed onto the sand with a loud thud. "This thing wasn't built for cross-country hiking," he groaned, wrenching open the chest plate and pulling himself free.

"You should've added a cooling system," I said, crossing my arms. "Or maybe a snack compartment."

"Thanks for the advice," Stark muttered, tossing the suit's helmet aside and falling onto his back in the sand.

Yinsen sat down beside him, his breathing labored as he clutched his side. I crouched next to him, checking the bullet graze. The bleeding had slowed, but his face was pale, and his energy was fading fast.

"You're tougher than you look, doc," I said, pulling out a small canteen of water and handing it to him.

"Thank you," Yinsen said softly, taking a grateful sip.

Stark, meanwhile, was staring at me with the same suspicion he'd had since the moment we met. "Alright, mystery man," he said, sitting up and pointing at me. "You've got about five seconds to tell me who you are and what you're doing here."

I leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "You're welcome, by the way. For saving your life."

"Yeah, I got that part," Stark said, narrowing his eyes. "What I don't get is why. Guys like you don't just show up out of nowhere to take down armies for fun. So what's the angle?"

I sighed, shaking my head. "Smart and paranoid. Great combo."

Yinsen spoke up before I could respond further. "Tony, he saved me. He saved you. Without him, we wouldn't have made it out of that cave."

Stark frowned, glancing between me and Yinsen. "Alright, fine. But that doesn't mean I trust him."

"Look, Stark," I said, standing up and brushing sand off my pants. "You don't have to trust me. I don't really care if you do. What I care about is getting you out of this desert alive. So unless you've got a better plan, maybe save the interrogation for later?"

Stark grumbled something under his breath but didn't argue further.

The sun was beginning to set as we started our trek, the long shadows of the rocky hills stretching across the desert. Stark carried only the essentials—namely, the arc reactor strapped to his chest. Yinsen leaned on me for support, his steps slow but steady.

"So," Stark said after a long silence, glancing at me. "You got a name, or should I just keep calling you 'mystery guy'?"

I smirked. "Shallot."

"Shallot," Stark repeated, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of name is that?"

"A unique one," I replied, shrugging.

"Figures," Stark muttered, turning his gaze back to the horizon.

Yinsen chuckled softly, his voice weak but amused. "I have a feeling this is going to be an interesting partnership."

I didn't respond, scanning the desert with my scouter. Somewhere out there, we'd find safety. But for now, survival was all that mattered.

As we trudged through the sand, the faint hum of a helicopter reached my ears. I stopped, my scouter activating automatically as it locked onto the sound.

"Helicopter," I said, pointing toward the horizon.

Stark frowned. "Friendly or hostile?"

"We'll find out soon enough," I replied, a grin spreading across my face. "Stay sharp."

The faint hum of the helicopter grew louder, cutting through the desert silence like the roar of an approaching storm.

I stood still, my scouter flashing as it locked onto the source. The green lens over my eye displayed the incoming aircraft: one helicopter, standard military design, no weapons locked. It was moving fast, heading directly toward us.

"Helicopter," I repeated, pointing toward the horizon.

Stark squinted, his hand shielding his eyes from the glare of the setting sun.

"It's from the U.S. Army," I said, my tone calm but cautious. "Your people, Stark."

Stark frowned, still staring at the growing silhouette in the distance. "My people? Yeah, maybe. Or maybe it's someone else. The military doesn't exactly have the best track record when it comes to, you know, trustworthiness."

"Big talk for a guy who just blew up half a desert with a flamethrower," I shot back.

"Alright, point taken," Stark muttered. "But I'm just saying, we shouldn't assume they're here to roll out the red carpet."

Yinsen, leaning heavily on me, let out a tired chuckle. "Tony, they're flying the American flag. I think it's safe to say they're not here to kill us."

"Don't be so sure," Stark said, his tone dry.

I sighed, adjusting my grip on Yinsen to keep him steady. "Look, if it's the army, they're not going to open fire unless we give them a reason to. So how about we all just try not to look like a threat, huh?"

Stark gave me a skeptical look. "You don't exactly scream 'harmless,' you know."

"Yeah, well, neither do you in that tin can," I replied with a smirk.

The helicopter descended quickly, kicking up a storm of sand and dust as its rotors churned the air. I squinted against the blast, shielding Yinsen as he coughed into his hand. Stark stood nearby, his hand resting on the arc reactor strapped to his chest, his body tense but ready.

The helicopter touched down with a heavy thud, its side door sliding open to reveal a group of soldiers in full gear. They stepped out cautiously, their rifles lowered but not entirely relaxed.

The lead soldier, a stocky man with a clean-shaven face and sharp eyes, raised a hand to signal his men to hold position. His gaze locked onto Stark, then shifted briefly to me.

"Tony Stark?" the soldier called over the roar of the helicopter.

Stark took a step forward, raising a hand in acknowledgment. "That's me! And not to be a diva or anything, but it's about damn time someone showed up to get me out of this hellhole."

The soldier's expression softened slightly, and he gestured for Stark to approach. "We've been looking for you for weeks, sir. You've got half the world in a panic."

Stark snorted. "Yeah, well, let's call it a working vacation."

The soldiers glanced at each other, clearly unsure how to respond to Stark's sarcasm.

The lead soldier turned his attention to Yinsen, who was still leaning heavily on me. "And him?"

"Yinsen," Stark said quickly. "He's the reason I'm still alive. Whatever you're planning to do for me, you're doing for him too."

The soldier nodded, gesturing for one of his men to help Yinsen. I handed him off carefully, stepping back as the soldiers supported him toward the helicopter.

"And who's this guy?" the lead soldier asked, nodding toward me.

"Good question," Stark said, crossing his arms and giving me a pointed look. "Still waiting on an answer myself."

I smirked, my arms crossed. "Just someone who doesn't like seeing people get pushed around."

The soldier raised an eyebrow but didn't press the issue. "Alright, everyone in. We're getting out of here before the locals decide to send reinforcements."

The interior of the helicopter was cramped and loud, the constant thrum of the rotors drowning out most attempts at conversation.

Stark sat across from me, the arc reactor still glowing faintly against his chest. He looked like hell—dirty, bruised, and exhausted—but his mind was clearly working overtime. He kept glancing at me, his expression unreadable.

Yinsen sat beside me, his head resting against the wall of the helicopter. His breathing was shallow, but he gave me a faint smile when I glanced his way.

"You did well back there," he said quietly. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," I replied, my tone casual. "Seriously. Don't. Stark's already asking too many questions."

Yinsen chuckled weakly, but the sound was cut off by a fit of coughing. One of the soldiers handed him a canteen, which he accepted gratefully.

Across from us, Stark leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. "Alright, Shallot—or whatever your name is—spill it. Who are you really? And don't give me that 'just a guy who doesn't like bullies' crap again."

I tilted my head, pretending to think. "What makes you think there's more to it?"

"Because I'm Tony Stark," he said, as if that was explanation enough. "I can spot a lie from a mile away. You're not just some random do-gooder. So what's your angle?"

I shrugged. "Let's just say I have an interest in making sure you stay alive. For now."

Stark raised an eyebrow. "For now?"

"You're useful," I said simply. "And I don't like wasting useful people."

"Gee, thanks," Stark muttered, leaning back against the wall of the helicopter. "You're a real charmer."

As the helicopter approached a U.S. military base on the horizon, the tension in the air began to fade. The sight of the American flag fluttering above the base brought a visible sense of relief to Yinsen, though Stark's expression remained guarded.

The soldiers were on high alert as the helicopter touched down, their movements efficient as they helped Yinsen and Stark out of the aircraft.

"You coming, or are you just going to disappear like a ghost?" Stark asked, glancing back at me as he stepped onto the tarmac.

I smirked, standing up and stretching. "Don't worry, Stark. I'm not done with you yet."

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't push the issue.

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Author's Note : Well, what do you think ? Don't hesitate to comment and give me your power stones