The early morning air was cold and dry, the kind of air that left grit on your teeth and dust in your lungs. Sand crunched under flip-flops, mixing with the flap of the fabric from their outfit. The sun had not fully crested the horizon, but its golden hue already painted the distant mountains in pale fire.
Glenn adjusted his sunglasses before giving a curt nod to Illyana.
She returned it with a smirk, her ash-blonde braid catching the wind as she stepped over a broken piece of roadside debris. Behind them, Tony Stark walked—limping slightly, but otherwise upright. His shirt was torn, his jeans scorched, and a layer of grime clung to his skin, but the unmistakable glint in his eyes was still there.
He was alive.
And he was chewing a cheeseburger.
Glenn could've easily made Ilyanna create a portal and teleport Tony straight to his mansion in Malibu, but he didn't. Simply because, where's the fun in that? He was enjoying the view of the philanthropist playboy suffer a little. He might as well contribute something for Tony's character development.
———
They had stopped by a cluster of red rocks where a small black ops cache Glenn placed prior to the cave. Within five minutes, he'd conjured field-grade medkits, hydration packets, clean-ish civilian clothes—and to Tony's amazement, another preserved burger stored in an insulated ration pod.
"How many burgers do you really have?" Tony asked in exasperation.
"Part of the mystery. Here, take this one too." Glenn replied as he handed over another cheeseburger to Tony.
"Why are we even here?" Tony asked.
"We need to change our clothes, yes that includes you. You stink. Consider it complimentary service. I can't hand you over looking like a resident of skidrow. Besides, I got an image to maintain."
"I swear," Tony mumbled between chews, "you bring me out of a hell-cave with terrorists, and the first thing you hand me is a cheeseburger? You're a miracle worker."
Illyana shrugged. "You're the one who said you wanted a last meal."
Tony raised a brow. "I said I wanted to live, not die."
She tilted her head. "Same difference, sometimes."
Glenn gave no comment. He just handed over a pair of clothes towards Tony as he and Ilyanna took turns chaging their outfit behind a huge rock.
Once they are ready to leave, Glenn scanned the horizon with practiced, ice-cold precision. His expression never shifted. Even now, walking through enemy terrain with the most valuable hostage in the region, he looked as calm as a man on a stroll.
Hours has gone by walking. Then finally, they neared the checkpoint: a dusty stretch of concrete and chain-link fencing guarded by a handful of U.S. Army soldiers. The base behind it loomed large—temporary barracks, radio towers, satellite trucks, and armored transports lined up like chess pieces on sand.
A corporal on duty squinted toward them. He didn't recognize the trio at first—civilians, he assumed. Maybe smugglers. Refugees. Or worse.
He stepped forward, clutching his M4.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa—stop right there!" he barked, posturing hard. "You're entering a restricted military perimeter. Drop the pack. Hands where I can see 'em!"
Tony raised one hand lazily, the cheeseburger still in the other. "Relax, Private G.I. Joe. Just here for room service."
The corporal scowled. "This isn't a damn hotel—"
His voice trailed off as Tony stepped into full view.
There was a moment of stunned silence.
The soldier's eyes widened. "Is that—? That can't be—"
Glenn shifted subtly, stepping between Tony and the corporal. His coat fluttered as he adjusted his stance, revealing a glimpse of the reinforced armor beneath.
Illyana's hands went behind her back, ready to draw her sword from Limbo at the first twitch of a trigger.
"You going to open the gate," she said, "or do we have to teach you battlefield manners?"
Glenn raised his brows hearing that. He was surprised to the fact that Ilyanna can be this intimidating, like he discovered something new.
The corporal's eyes darted nervously between the two—recognition dawning. The tall man with slongsleeve shirt and a red necktie, wearing sunglasses like he's strolling on a vacation. That handsome face that his superiors once showed him, briefed with utmost classified information tagged with NCND (neither confirm nor deny). The legendary man that sometimes walks among the military, yet didn't belong to them.
It clicked.
"Oh sh—"
"Corporal!" another voice boomed from behind the fence.
The gate burst open.
Colonel James Rhodes stormed through, flanked by two MPs and a combat medic.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw them.
"Tony?"
Tony took another bite and waved with his burger hand. "Hey, Rhodey. Guess who's not dead."
Rhodey broke into a dead sprint, grabbing his old friend in a rough bear hug that almost knocked the burger from Tony's grip.
"You son of a bitch!" Rhodey said, half-laughing, half-yelling. "You're alive!"
Tony winced. "Easy, I've been half-exploded for the past few weeks."
Rhodey pulled back, checking him over, his face tight with emotion. "We thought—we didn't know—God, Tony, I've been calling in every favor on the planet. How the hell—?"
Glenn stepped forward.
Rhodes froze.
The military police stopped too, eyes widening.
A murmur rippled through the soldiers nearby as they realized who was standing there—silent, composed, and real. The infamous Handyman.
Rhodey nodded slowly. "Handyman."
Glenn returned the nod. "Colonel."
"You're the one who pulled him out?"
"I delivered the package."
Rhodes exhaled, hand resting on his belt. "We had recon searching every canyon, every compound. Nothing. Then I get an encrypted call this morning telling me to 'prepare for delivery.' I thought it was a damn joke."
Tony smirked. "Surprise."
Illyana crossed her arms. "We have done what we can to make sure he looks complete and presentable. You're welcome."
One of the MPs leaned close to Rhodes and whispered, "Sir… that's the Handyman.. We should alert Command."
Rhodes waved him off. "I'm aware. Command's probably already watching. They know better than to interfere when he moves."
Tony looked between them. "Wait, people actually call you Handyman? That's your codename?"
Glenn blinked once. "What? You think I'm joking?"
Tony muttered, "Why? You didn't find it weird? Were all the cool ones taken? Like Shadowstrike? Iron Viper?"
"Marketing isn't my department and it's much better than cheesy moniker like 'Iron Patriot'. Besides, I'm getting used to fixing someone else's mess. It's growing on me." Glenn replied in amusement.
Rhodes gestured them through the gates. "Uh, I think 'Iron Patriot' is cool. Anyway, get our genius inside. We've got medics, debriefing teams, and about a hundred government suits on standby."
Tony waved the burger. "All I need is a shower and six more of these."
Rhodes clapped him on the back. "You'll get it. But we need to know what happened."
Tony's grin faded.
His gaze turned distant.
"I built a monster in a cave," he said quietly.
Rhodey frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Tony didn't answer right away.
He glanced back at Glenn and Illyana, who stood at the threshold of the base—not moving further, not stepping inside.
"You're not coming in?" Tony asked.
Illyana turned to look at Glenn. The latter shook his head and said. "Our job's done."
Rhodes nodded in understanding. "Figures. Handyman never sticks around for the applause."
Glenn gave Tony a hard look. "Use your second chance and prepare the price."
Tony returned the gaze. "I will."
Illyana added, "Next time you get kidnapped, maybe hire a better convoy."
Tony chuckled. "Yeah. And maybe next time I won't build missiles for warlords."
Glenn turned without another word, disappearing into the haze beyond the gate while checking the status of his quest.
•Rescue Tony Stark•
Tony Stark, a playboy billionaire has been abducted in Afghanistan to create missiles for the Ten Rings.
Escort Tony Stark back safely.
Condition: Alive
Status: Completed
Reward: 20,000 points, Basic Conqueror's Haki, (Bonus Reward) Military prestige +100
Illyana followed, pulling her hoodie up and fading into the sunlit desert like a ghost.
Tony watched them vanish, burger in hand, then looked at Rhodes.
"You know," he said, "if we're being honest… I think those two scare me more than the people who kidnapped me."
Rhodes gave a short laugh. "You and me both."
As they escorted Tony into the heart of the military compound, the base buzzed around them—helicopters whirring, soldiers moving, intelligence operatives scrambling to adjust briefings. But amid the chaos, one thing was certain:
Tony Stark had returned from the dead.
And the man who delivered him was the kind of legend people only spoke about in whispers.
———
The conference room was buzzing. Lights blazed, cameras whirred, and reporters shouted over each other in a desperate attempt to capture Tony Stark's miraculous return. His survival from captivity in Afghanistan had already begun its transformation into legend. The media dubbed it "The Cave Resurrection."
Tony Stark, billionaire genius and the living face of Stark Industries, stood at the podium dressed in a suit that didn't quite fit anymore. He had lost weight. His skin was a shade paler than usual, and the circles under his eyes hinted at long, sleepless nights. Still, he held himself like he always did—with the kind of arrogant charm that could sell sand in a desert.
"Good morning," Tony began, adjusting the microphone. "No questions. And yes, it's really me. I know, some of you probably bet against it."
Glenn leaned against a load-bearing column at the back of the room, a bag of chips in one hand and a half-crushed soda can in the other. His black elegant suit blended among the crowd, but no one seem to see him as if his presence was deliberately concealed. Next to him, Illyana crunched on a corn chip with stoic satisfaction. She now wore a tattered jeans and black low collard shirt. Her hair tied in ponytail showing her alluring neck. Her sneakers were clean, her eyes hidden behind dark lenses of her rayban sunglass.
"Place your bets," Illyana said, voice low. "How long until he torches his own company on live TV?"
"Twenty seconds," Glenn replied with a smirk. "And I only say that because he hasn't had coffee yet."
Tony continued, "Effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries."
The room imploded. Reporters shouted, flashbulbs exploded like miniature fireworks, and Obadiah Stane, seated nearby, visibly stiffened. The old man looked like someone had replaced his cigar with a lit stick of dynamite.
Illyana looked at Glenn. "You owe me five slabs of sea king meat."
"He beat my bet by twelve seconds. Give the man a trophy and a muzzle."
Behind the cameras and chaos, men in suits moved differently from the rest. Their posture was too precise, their glances too sharp. Agents. Glenn clocked them immediately.
"SHIELD's here," he muttered.
Illyana arched a brow. "SHIELD? What's that?" Then she saw bunch of men in suits with comms stuck in their ears.
"Oh! Let me guess. Dressed like substitute teachers and holding folders marked 'confidential'?"
"You forgot the smug aura."
Glenn's eyes tracked one man in particular—Agent Phil Coulson. He stood calmly off-stage, speaking with Pepper Potts in that firm, measured way that made bureaucratic threats sound like brunch plans. The way Coulson's hand subtly moved to cover the recorder in his coat told Glenn everything.
"They know I'm here," Glenn said, amused.
Illyana chuckled. "They always know. They just hate admitting it."
Coulson finished his conversation with Pepper and walked away, dialing a number on his secure SHIELD-issued phone. Glenn subtly tuned his earpiece to the frequency the agent used. Just for kicks.
"This is Coulson. Confirmed sighting," Coulson said, low. "Handyman is on-site. No confrontation. Observing only. Yes, Stark is unharmed. No immediate threat."
A pause. Then:
"Yes, I know he doesn't exist on any official database. That's the problem, isn't it? He's in the open. That's rare."
Glenn popped a chip into his mouth and whispered, "Now you're just flattering me."
Tony was escorted off the stage a few minutes later, flanked by Pepper and Obadiah, the latter whispering something sharp into his ear. Tony nodded distantly, already distracted. He wasn't the same man who'd sold missiles last month. That man had burned in a cave.
Glenn and Illyana trailed behind, unnoticed by most but avoided by those who did notice.
Down a quiet hallway, past a few nervous interns and the unmistakable smell of catered coffee, they caught up.
Tony had stepped into a private room for a breather. The moment Glenn entered, two guards reached for their sidearms. Glenn just raised his soda can in a mock toast.
"Gentlemen," he said. "Let's not embarrass ourselves."
Illyana followed with a lazy yawn. "We're just here to talk. Not redecorate."
Pepper glanced up from her tablet. "You again."
Tony turned, surprised at first. Then he grinned. "You followed me all the way here. You must really like my company."
"Your fries were cold," Glenn said. "Figured I was owed better."
Illyana added, "Also, you forgot to pay us."
Tony raised a brow. "Really? I thought saving my life came with complimentary benefits."
"No such thing as free trauma," Glenn said, stepping forward. "We're here to settle the bill."
Pepper's eyes narrowed. "You didn't name a price."
"True," Glenn replied. "I don't like to rush negotiations."
Tony set his glass down. "Alright. What do you want? Money? Stocks? I assume cash isn't impressive to a man like you."
"Correct," Glenn said. "Money is boring. Paper. Numbers. Easily traced."
"So?"
Glenn leaned in and pointed at Tony's chest. "I want a Mini-Arc Reactor. Fully functional. Portable. Built by you. Hmm..you know what, add a million dollar cash, you know, just for formality. I know it's nothing for you. My handler won't forgive me if I didn't get anything financially substantial."
Silence.
Pepper stared at him like he'd asked for the nuclear codes.
Tony's smirk dropped. "You know what you're asking for?"
"I always know what I'm asking for. It's what makes me charming."
Illyana chuckled. "He means terrifying."
Tony crossed his arms. "That reactor's unstable. Experimental. I built it to keep myself alive. It wasn't designed to be... gifted."
"Then redesign it," Glenn said. "I'm not asking for a nuke. I want a power source. Something I can count on in places the grid doesn't reach. Besides, I figured the value of your life was as much as the value of the reactor, right? Priceless."
Tony's ego flared hearing that and he became at ease.
"I see."
"You want it for something, don't you?" Pepper asked.
Glenn didn't answer.
Tony gave a long sigh. "If I do this—if I do—you don't replicate it. You don't reverse-engineer it. You don't weaponize it."
"Scout's honor," Glenn said, holding up two fingers. "Also, I was never a scout. They wouldn't let me in after the... incident in Iran. Cough!"
Tony snorted despite himself. "You're unbelievable."
"So I've been told. Usually by my exes."
"You don't even have a girlfriend." Illyana snorted.
"Small details."
Pepper rubbed her temples as she looked at Tony. "We need time."
"Three weeks," Glenn said. "I'll come for it myself. One unit. No tricks."
"Fine," Tony muttered. "But you so much as sneeze near a Stark satellite..."
"I only sneeze near bad coffee."
Illyana looked at her watch. "Are we done? I have booked a massage scheduled and someone named, Agent Coulson keeps circling like a fed with a foot fetish."
Glenn nodded to Tony. "Thanks for not dying. Would've ruined my week."
As they exited, Glenn passed Coulson in the hall. The agent gave him a look that was equal parts curiosity, wearing his iconic diplomatic smile.
"Mr. Handyman." Coulson nodded in polite greeting. "Do you have some time for some small talk?"
Glenn sipped his soda. "Don't have time. I got a sauna on schedule."
"Very well, I would like to just remind you that you're on our radar now." Coulson said with calm ease.
"Took you long enough."
Coulson narrowed his eyes. "We'll be watching. Mr. Handyman."
"Then wear sunscreen. I burn easily."
Illyana sighed as they left. "You think we should've asked for two reactors?"
"Nah," Glenn said. "One's enough. Besides, the second one would've come with a tracker."
"The first one probably does."
"That's what the EMP grenade is for."
She smiled. "Paranoid."
"Experienced."
As the pair disappeared into the crowd, the world shifted behind them. SHIELD scrambled. The military speculated. Stark Industries reeled. But Glenn?
Glenn just wanted another bag of chips.
And maybe a nap.
He'd earned it and maybe try to test Conqueror's Haki somewhere else.