The cave was fire and smoke. Metal fragments from the Mark I littered the sand, glowing faint red from the heat. The Ten Rings camp was in ruins, bodies scattered, tents burning.
Brendon crouched on a dune miles away, XLR8's visor retracting as the Omnitrix pulsed and returned him to human form. He exhaled sharply. His chest still thudded with the afterimage of racing through gunfire to drag Yinsen from death's grip.
Behind him, a cloaked transport drone hovered silently, carrying Yinsen's unconscious body in a sealed med-pod. Brendon checked the vitals on a holoscreen: shallow, weak, but stable.
Good. You're still with me.
But another thread tugged at his mind.
Tony.
The desert stretched endlessly, and somewhere out there, a stubborn genius crawled toward destiny, alone. Brendon pulled up his portable interface, a secure channel pulsing open. He entered a string of backdoor codes he had planted weeks ago in Air Force frequencies.
The line clicked open.
"Colonel Rhodes?" Brendon spoke into the transmitter, his voice low and distorted. "Tony Stark is alive. Coordinates incoming."
There was silence, then a sharp intake of breath. "What—who is this?" Rhodey demanded.
Brendon didn't answer. He simply sent the location tag — accurate to the very mile Tony was dragging himself across — then cut the line.
"Go get him, Colonel," he muttered.
Hours later, the desert sky thundered with rotor blades.
Tony squinted against the sun as a military chopper descended, kicking up clouds of dust. Rhodey himself leapt down, disbelief breaking into raw relief at the sight of his friend alive, battered but breathing.
The two men embraced, the weight of survival heavy between them.
"You're late," Tony rasped, smirking weakly.
"I thought I'd lost you," Rhodey said, voice breaking.
The soldiers pulled Tony aboard, covering him with blankets, tending to his wounds. As the helicopter rose into the sky, the camera of Brendon's drone caught the moment. Tony Stark was saved — not by Brendon, not directly, but by the path Brendon had chosen.
Meanwhile, in the shadows of New York, Yinsen stirred awake.
The safehouse smelled faintly of antiseptic, a far cry from the sand and blood of the cave. Medical monitors beeped steadily. Brendon sat nearby, arms crossed, exhaustion written in the dark circles under his eyes.
Yinsen blinked, disoriented. "This… is not the desert."
"No," Brendon said softly. "You're in New York. You're safe."
The older man tried to sit up, wincing. "How…?"
Brendon leaned forward, keeping his voice steady. "I've been shadowing Stark since his capture. I had a hunch he was alive. When the camp burned, I slipped in. Got lucky — found you just in time. If I hadn't…"
Yinsen studied him carefully. The boy's eyes were calm, but too sharp, too knowing. There was more to this story, but he didn't press. Not yet.
Instead, Brendon continued. "Listen. There's something bigger at play. I've seen hints of corruption inside Stark Industries. Deals, leaks — things Tony doesn't see. When the time comes, I need you to back me up. He'll listen to you."
Yinsen's expression hardened. "You're saying the danger is not just in the desert."
"Exactly."
The world watched breathlessly as Tony Stark's convoy touched down on American soil. Reporters shouted questions, cameras flashed, the crowd surged like a wave.
In a quiet corner of Stark Industries' conference hall, Brendon sat with Yinsen, still weak but dressed neatly, a quiet pillar of calm amidst the chaos.
Pepper Potts arrived, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She paused when she saw them, confusion crossing her face. "Brendon? You're not usually… here." Her eyes flicked to Yinsen, softening with recognition from the news briefings she had read. "This is…?"
"A friend," Brendon said smoothly. "One who helped Tony survive. He's still recovering, so let's keep this quiet for now."
Pepper's brows furrowed. "How did you—"
Brendon cut her off with a steady gaze. "Pepper, I trust you. And because I do, I'll tell you something only a handful of people know. I have… abilities. Special ones. I don't flaunt them, I don't use them carelessly, but they're the reason Yinsen is alive right now. You'll understand in time."
For once, Pepper Potts was speechless. She opened her mouth, then closed it, glancing at Yinsen, who gave her a faint, reassuring nod.
Brendon continued. "All I need is for you to help us meet Tony when he gets home. No press, no board members. Just him, his real friends."
Pepper hesitated, but the sincerity in his voice disarmed her. She exhaled. "Fine. But Tony's going to have a million questions."
"He deserves answers," Brendon said quietly.
The conference room doors opened. Cameras flashed, reporters swarmed. Tony stood at the podium, a shadow of his former self, yet something unyielding now burned in his eyes.
"I never got to say goodbye to my father," he said into the microphone, his voice raw. "I never got to say thank you to the men and women who saved me. Effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries."
Shock rippled through the room. Obadiah Stane bristled, the board whispered furiously, but Brendon didn't watch them. His gaze was fixed on Tony.
This is it. The pivot. The birth of Iron Man.
And behind him, Yinsen sat quietly, alive when he shouldn't be, his very presence already rewriting the future.
Brendon leaned back, a small smile tugging at his lips.
The game had changed. And he was right in the middle of it.