The desert wind was unforgiving. Sand lashed across broken Humvees, twisted metal, and the smoldering wreckage of a military escort gone wrong. Blood soaked the sand. A trail of destruction led to silence—then gunfire. The convoy was gone. Tony Stark had been taken.
Over 7,000 miles away, in a classified SHIELD facility buried beneath the Rockies, something ancient and engineered stirred.
"Stark is gone," Director Nick Fury said, his voice steady as he walked into the control room. "Activate Protocol Steel."
A technician turned, startled. "Sir? You mean the boy? He's only ten—biologically—"
"He looks twenty-five," Fury snapped. "He's the backup plan we hoped we'd never need. But Stark made enemies and has gone off grid. Wake him."
A row of containment units lit up one by one, glowing blue with pulsing T.U.R.B.O energy. One in the center hissed open, releasing vapor as the cryo-seal broke. Inside stood a figure—tall, lean, and scarred with faint blue lines of energy that pulsed along his chest and arms like circuitry. His eyes blinked open, glowing faintly with light.
The voice of Steel, the mutated AI, crackled to life inside the chamber. :: Synapse match confirmed. Neural lock active. Good morning, Max. ::
Maximus Steel stepped out of the pod barefoot, the floor lighting beneath his feet. He didn't speak. He didn't need to.
Fury stepped into the chamber. "You were made to protect humanity. Well… it needs protecting. Tony Stark has gone missing. Presumed dead. Find him."
Max's black hair shifted slightly with the pressurized air around him. He glanced toward the wall as it opened, revealing a massive chamber lined with old prototypes and experimental suits.
He walked forward. "What happened?"
Fury tossed a file on a table. "He was ambushed in Afghanistan. By the Ten Rings."
Max stared at the SHIELD insignia.
"Go Turbo: Steel."
His body shimmered, and armor locked onto his limbs in pieces. His form adjusted—sleeker, streamlined, black and silver circuitry lighting up. His visor dropped, scanning the file. In seconds, every photo, every piece of text was memorized.
"Target locked," Max said.
---
Afghanistan – 2 Days Later
It was night when Max arrived, dropped into the mountains by a stealth Quinjet. He moved through the terrain like a ghost, his visor scanning for energy signals.
Steel pinged inside his HUD. :: Arc Reactor signature detected. Cave system, 2.3 miles east. Confirming—match found: Stark, Anthony Edward. Vitals stable. Location compromised. ::
Max narrowed his eyes.
"Go Turbo: Stealth."
His armor shifted again—his silhouette blurring into desert camouflage, noise dampeners activating across his boots. He vanished into the rocks.
Below, inside the cave, Stark was being watched by the Ten Rings. Jensen was talking to him quietly. Pieces of a strange suit lay across the ground—crude iron limbs and thick plating.
The guards barely noticed the shimmer in the dark until it was too late.
Two went down silently, their rifles dismantled mid-scream. Another tried to shout, but Max disabled him with a flick of his wrist—blue energy sparking across the man's chest.
Inside the cave, Jensen turned sharply. Stark looked up.
"What the hell?" he whispered, as Max emerged from the shadows.
Tony backed up. "Whoa, hey, easy! You with SHIELD?"
Max's HUD dropped back. "Your design is flawed. You'll never make it past the door with that."
Tony raised a brow. "That's what I've been saying! Wait—who are you?"
"I'm your shadow," Max replied, stepping toward the reactor rig. "You're going to live."
Jensen looked between them. "We're blowing the door in 12 hours."
"Then you've got 10," Max said. "Help him. I'll hold the line."
---
Twelve Hours Later – The Cave Escape
The makeshift Iron Man suit roared to life. Stark stepped inside, heart pounding, Jensen giving final instructions.
Max's voice echoed through the cave.
"They know. They're coming."
Explosions rocked the compound as Max launched into battle, blue blasts ripping through enemy cover. He moved like a blur, his T.U.R.B.O Strength Mode engaged—bulky arms lifting concrete, shielding Jensen and Stark.
Tony slammed through the tunnel with brute force, Iron Man's first flight crawling from the rubble.
Outside, Max helped drag Stark into the sandstorm. The Jericho missile cache behind them exploded, lighting the sky with fire.
"Tell them," Max said as a Quinjet descended. "Tell them what you saw."
Tony looked up, stunned. "What do I call you?"
Max's armor retracted slowly. "Maximus Steel."
---
Days Later – Stark's Press Conference
Tony stood before a wall of reporters, sunglasses hiding his exhaustion.
"I've seen the worst humanity can offer," he said. "And I've seen what it takes to change it. Effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons division of Stark Industries."
Flashbulbs. Screams. Gasps.
In the crowd, hidden behind a camera lens, Max watched silently, now in civilian clothes—black tactical coat, combat boots, faint blue energy still running beneath his skin.
Steel chimed in. :: Observations: Stark's moral arc has shifted. Your presence was the catalyst. Recommendation: Maintain proximity. ::
Max turned to leave.
Behind him, Obadiah Stane watched the scene unfold, fingers pressed against his lips. He recognized the tall man walking out of the building. His smile tightened.
---
SHIELD Headquarters – Debrief Room
Nick Fury paced in front of a large monitor.
"Max didn't just retrieve Stark," Maria Hill said. "He changed him."
Fury folded his arms. "Let's hope Stark lives long enough to stay changed."
Hill looked at the screen. "And Maximus?"
"He's going to be a problem. But right now? He's our problem."
---