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The guards in the hall fired their weapons. Iron Man surged forward, bullets ricocheting off his armor. His heavy feet pounded the floor, shaking dust from the tunnel ceiling.
Seeing that their bullets had no effect, the guards jumped on him, trying to drag him down. Iron Man tossed them aside: The powerful motors in his armor gave him great strength.
Through the faceplate of his visor, Tony saw—in the distance—light from the cave exit. He lumbered forward, knocking guards out of his way as he went. An insurgent jumped out of a side passage and fired at point-blank range. Iron Man’s armor dented, but the bullet still bounced off. He batted the guard aside.
More guards appeared before him, and then more still. Iron Man kept moving, picking up speed like a freight train. He plowed through the enemy, knocking them down like tenpins.
The constant hail of bullets was taking its toll, though. Tony felt the armor bending and weakening around him. Smoke rose from the suit’s seams. Tony knew he needed to escape before the suit sustained more damage.
The tunnel opened up into a wide cavern, the main chamber of the complex. The exit beckoned on the other side, but between it and Tony stood a dozen of Raza’s men. Yinsen lay crumpled on the ground near the exit, wounded.
Raza’s men raised their weapons.
“Look out!” Yinsen cried.
Iron Man turned just in time. A rocket-propelled grenade whizzed past his shoulder and exploded against the wall behind him. The wall crumbled and clouds of dust and smoke filled the room.
Iron Man thumped across the room and knelt awkwardly at his friend’s side. Yinsen’s wounds looked very bad.
“Why did you run out before we were ready?” Tony asked. “We could have made it—both of us. You could have seen your family again.”
A weak smile cracked Yinsen’s blackened face. “I’m going to see them again,” he said. “They’re waiting for me.”
In an instant, Tony understood. Yinsen’s family was already dead—and Yinsen would soon join them.
“Don’t ... ” Tony began, but it was too late.
Yinsen’s eyes closed, and he slumped to the floor.
Rage filled Tony as he rose to his feet. Through the debris, Tony spotted Raza, holding the grenade launcher. The warlord smiled and calmly loaded another grenade. Iron Man whirled on Raza, activating the flamethrowers that were built into his armor. Flames shot out of his hands toward the warlord.
Raza screamed and ducked for cover, dropping the launcher. The weapon exploded as the flames hit it, and part of the tunnel collapsed around the warlord. Iron Man spun toward the exit and turned on the flamethrowers again. The guards blocking his way ran. He screamed as he barreled down the tunnel and out the side of the mountain. As he emerged, the warlord’s men kept firing, denting and tearing tiny pieces off Tony’s armor.
Iron Man surged forward, heading for the ammunition dump. A maze of boxes, all packed to the brim with weaponry, filled the valley.
Iron Man thundered into the maze. The boxes towered around him—enough armaments to start a war. Tony’s eyes stung as he saw the Stark Industries logo emblazoned on the weapon crates. He fired his flamethrowers, and the boxes exploded in flames.
Raza’s men followed him in, shooting as they came. The bullets ripped into Iron Man’s armor. One caught on a seam and slammed into Tony’s shoulder, knocking him off his feet.
His armor moved slowly and the joints ground together as Iron Man rose. Weapon crates burned all around now, but Raza’s men didn’t seem to care; they wanted to bring Iron Man down for good.
Tony knew the suit couldn’t take much more—pieces were already beginning to rattle loose.
He fired one last flame at the weapon crates, then opened a metal flap on the armor’s right arm. He flipped the switch inside and a screeching jet engine-like whir filled the maze. The remaining guards covered their ears and fled.
Tony blasted off, soaring into the air like a rocket. As he went, the ammo dump began to explode—first one crate, then another, and then another, until the whole thing went up in flames.
Sweating, battered, and bruised, Tony concentrated on flying. He shot through the sky like a human cannonball. The desert streaked past below him, the scenery becoming a blur of speed and motion.
He thought he saw something in the distance. Were they helicopters? Were Raza’s men still chasing him?
Then, suddenly, his jet boots gave out.
Tony plunged toward the sand, trying desperately to control his flight, but it was no use. He hit hard, spinning and rolling as he plowed into the ground. Pieces of his armor shredded off as he went. Finally, he skidded to a halt. The Iron Man armor was heavy against his skin.
He looked at his chest plate. The Arc generator glowed very faintly. If he used much more of its energy, his heart would stop. Tony cut the power to the suit and slowly, painfully, dragged himself out of the shredded armor. Behind him, explosions from the ammo dump echoed like distant thunder.
He had to keep moving. Raza’s men would be after him.
He staggered to his feet, leaving the shredded armor behind, and limped across the desert, away from Raza’s camp. His shoulder ached where the bullet had hit him. He clutched the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
Don’t pass out, he told himself. Don’t pass out.
He kept walking for as long as he could. But soon he couldn’t go any farther. He hadn’t eaten, or slept, or had any water since leaving the camp. “Should have thought of bringing supplies,” he told himself as the sun beat down on him.
He closed his eyes to try to block out the glare, but his eyelids didn’t want to open again. Something pounded in his ears.
High above him he spotted a helicopter. The sound was very close, almost on top of him. He tried to run, but his legs wouldn’t move.
His strength gave out, and he slumped blindly toward the sand. A pair of strong arms caught him. “Hey,” a familiar voice said. “How was the Fun-Vee?”
Tony’s eyes flickered open and he looked up. It was Rhodey.
“Next time, you ride with me, okay?” he said.
“About time you got here,” Tony muttered through parched lips.