Alex stood in the cold, cavernous space of the mansion's primary wine cellar, the air thick with the scent of oak and dust. It was his new lab. The sheer, silent size of the room, carved deep into the foundation of the Malibu cliffside, gave him the isolation he craved. A single, high-powered utility lamp threw stark shadows across the expensive racks, turning bottles of Bordeaux and Cabernet into silent, judgmental observers.
He'd spent the last thirty-six hours moving. Guided by his Level 5 Engineering Proficiency, he'd "acquired" everything he needed: a few high-voltage cables siphoned from the satellite array power grid, precision tools lifted from a forgotten Stark Industries maintenance locker, and, most importantly, the high-density steel rack from the kitchen.
His body was operating on adrenaline and coffee, but his mind was crystal clear. It was no longer Alex thinking like a genius; it was Alex being one. Every wire connection, every weld joint, every mathematical equation for magnetic containment felt intuitively correct.
The central component—the makeshift Arc Reactor Core—sat on a workbench cobbled together from antique French barrels. It wasn't the sleek, blue heart Tony would create. It was crude, functional, and terrifying.
Instead of rare palladium, Alex had synthesized his temporary solution. He used industrial-grade lithium and copper coils cannibalized from an old generator, running a high-frequency alternating current through them to create a magnetic bottle capable of sustaining a small, intense plasma reaction. His design was a stopgap, built to last days, not years, but it was power.
He adjusted the final wiring harness, his hands steady despite the exhaustion. The core was small, only about the size of a hockey puck, encased in the repurposed steel frame.
"Alright, System," he murmured, wiping sweat from his brow. "Moment of truth. If this doesn't work, I'm just a pyromaniac teenager who destroyed an antique wine collection."
[Warning: Plasma initiation carries an 18.5% risk of localized thermal runaway. Proceed with caution.]
"Gee, thanks for the confidence," Alex muttered.
He reached for the remote ignition switch—a cheap garage door opener he'd rewired. He counted down from five, his breath held tight in his chest.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
He pressed the button.
A deep, resonating hum filled the cellar, vibrating up through the stone floor and into his bones. The crude steel casing glowed a brilliant, angry orange for a split second, then stabilized. The internal plasma reaction caught, contained by the rapidly spinning magnetic field. The orange receded, leaving the core pulsating with a clean, powerful, electric-blue light.
Alex collapsed back against the wall, laughing—a raw, manic sound of disbelief and triumph.
[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: First Upgrade: Arc Core (Prototype 1.0) Successful. Power Output: 2.5 Gigajoules.]
[Host Health: Optimized. Host Status: Powered.]
He had built the impossible. He had the power source to run a basic version of the suit that would save him from the coming storm. The Blueprint of Destiny was now a glowing, humming reality sitting on his workbench.
A Voice in the Noise
His triumph was short-lived. The moment the reactor stabilized, the System interrupted the celebration with a chilling alert.
[CRITICAL THREAT DETECTED. The intense, localized electromagnetic signature from the Arc Core has successfully bypassed Tony Stark's passive network filters.]
Good. That means Tony knows I'm doing something important.
[Correction: The signature has been detected by an active external surveillance system.]
A cold dread washed over Alex, instantly extinguishing the warmth of his victory. "Stane," he whispered.
[Affirmative. Obadiah Stane's proprietary Whisper Network monitoring the Malibu property has flagged the energy surge. Time since detection: 4.8 seconds.]
Alex sprang up, rushing to the basement's main security console—a relic Tony had never bothered to upgrade. He brought up the network activity log, his new Level 5 vision allowing him to tear through the complex code like prose.
He saw the tiny, almost invisible spike: an outbound data stream, encrypted and routed through a ghost server in Hong Kong, but originating right here. Stane wasn't just watching Tony's labs; he was watching the entire compound.
"He saw the surge," Alex breathed, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. "He knows there's a new variable. A new genius."
The timeline suddenly accelerated, the four-to-six-week buffer dissolving into thin air. Stane wouldn't wait for Tony to get back. He wouldn't wait for a rescue. He would move now to eliminate the unexpected competition—Alex.
[NEW SYSTEM MISSION: Survive the Purge. Threat Level: Severe. Obadiah Stane is en route to neutralize the new power source and its creator.]
"En route? How fast?"
[Stane's private helicopter is currently mobilizing from Santa Monica. Estimated Arrival: T-minus 45 minutes.]
Forty-five minutes. That was barely enough time to secure the Arc Core, much less build a suit around it. Alex looked from the glowing blue puck to the pile of scattered tools and wiring.
He needed armor, and he needed it now. He couldn't fight the Iron Monger predecessor with a hockey puck and a prayer.
Blueprint of the Suit
The Arc Core gave him power, but it didn't give him protection. The only structural metal within quick reach that was durable enough was the high-density rack he'd brought down. It was thick, but it wasn't shaped for movement.
[Solution: Utilize the basement's emergency heavy-duty hydraulic press (near the defunct furnace). The steel rack can be partially molded into rudimentary bracers and a chest plate. Estimated Time for Basic Armor: 30 minutes.]
Alex nodded sharply, the fear giving way to a frantic focus. He had just enough time to build a crude, wearable defense. It wouldn't be Iron Man; it would be Junk Man.
He carefully picked up the humming Arc Core, the intense heat easily manageable through the rudimentary steel housing he'd created. This was his heart now.
As he hauled the heavy steel rack across the stone floor toward the hydraulic press, the System issued its final, chilling prompt for the chapter, setting the stage for the inevitable confrontation.
[WARNING: The hostile entity (Stane) will be accompanied by armed personnel. Host must prepare for physical conflict.]
"Armed personnel," Alex muttered, chaining the steel rack to the press. He strapped the glowing blue Arc Core to his chest using heavy leather belts he'd found in an old storage chest. The light pulsed, casting a stark, frantic shadow over his young face.
First, the chest plate. Then the repulsor.
He slammed the switch on the ancient hydraulic press, the ear-splitting HISS of compressed air announcing that the next thirty minutes would be a race against a murderer.
Will Alex be able to forge enough protection before Stane's
chopper lands? Find out in the next chapter: