Arriving at the cave entrance, a cold wind howled through the valley like a lonely wolf.
Outside, more than a dozen tents were scattered loosely across the open ground. This was a barren valley surrounded by dark mountains. There was no green in sight—only dry earth and drifting dust. The night wind stirred up thin clouds of sand, making the air harsh and difficult to breathe.
Deadpool looked up.
The moon shone bright and clear. The sky was filled with stars. Not a single cloud.
"Romantic," he muttered. "If you ignore the kidnapping vibe."
He crouched low and stealthily approached one of the tents. Carefully, he pulled back the curtain—
And instantly regretted it.
A powerful stench burst out, a terrifying mix of foot odor, sweat, and unwashed bodies.
Deadpool's face went pale.
For a second, he almost pulled out one of his glass chemical bottles to fight smell with smell.
But he resisted.
"This," he whispered dramatically, "is a gift for my shiny big brother Colossus."
Inside the tent was a large communal sleeping area. Seven or eight muscular men—both White and Black—were sleeping heavily on thin bedding.
The cold night air rushed in through the open flap.
The men shivered.
Following their natural survival instinct, they rolled closer together for warmth.
Within seconds, the entire group became an awkward pile of muscular limbs.
Deadpool covered his eyes.
"See no evil."
Then he spread his fingers slightly and peeked through.
"Okay maybe just a little evil."
The inside of the tent was messy. Daily supplies were thrown everywhere. Rifles leaned against crates. Ammunition boxes sat half-open.
Suddenly—
Two large patrolling men spotted him.
They shouted loudly in a language Deadpool did not understand and ran toward him.
Deadpool immediately raised both hands.
"Hey! Gentlemen! If I said I was just looking for a bathroom break, would you believe me?"
"!@#￥%"
"I'll take that as a no."
They tackled him to the ground.
One of them pulled out a rope and tightly bound his wrists and ankles.
"Easy, easy," Deadpool protested. "I bruise emotionally."
The two men spoke quickly in their own language.
Deadpool squatted obediently in the middle of the clearing while they discussed something over a walkie-talkie.
He blinked.
Then blinked again.
A terrible thought entered his mind.
"What if no one here speaks English?"
He slowly considered his options.
Kill them all?
It would be faster.
Less communication barrier.
But before he could act, the noise had already woken the others. One by one, men crawled out of the tents, shouting and pointing.
The quiet valley suddenly became loud like a jungle at sunset.
The patrolling men placed a simple black hood over Deadpool's head.
Then they dragged him toward the cave entrance.
The others returned to their tents and resumed their warm human sandwich formation.
Inside the cave, Deadpool noticed something important.
The distance they walked was far longer than the path he had taken earlier.
That meant—
He had wandered into the wrong section before.
This area was deeper.
More secure.
Thump.
Creak—
A heavy iron bolt slid open.
A rusty metal door slowly swung inward.
The hood was removed.
Deadpool blinked at the sight before him.
It was a large cave chamber.
Simple.
Cold.
Functional.
There was a single iron bunk bed. A broken wooden table. A water jug. A few small chairs. A small fire stove for warmth.
The temperature difference between day and night in the desert was extreme.
On the bunk bed lay a thin man, half sitting up, looking confused and surprised.
The patrolling man spoke rapidly and pointed at Deadpool.
The thin man nodded.
Then he looked at Deadpool and spoke clearly in English.
"He asks, where are you from?"
The moment Deadpool saw his face—
His heart nearly stopped.
Fk. Fk. F**k.
It was him.
Dr. Ethan.
Ho Yinsen.
Deadpool had landed inside the timeline of Iron Man.
And this was before the birth of Iron Man.
Before the cave reactor.
Before the armor.
Before everything.
This was history.
Deadpool stood straight immediately and adjusted his clothes.
"This," he whispered internally, "is sacred."
Bang!
A gunshot echoed through the cave.
Deadpool dropped to the ground.
The two guards looked confused.
One muttered angrily.
The other gestured defensively.
Deadpool lay still.
He did not understand their language—but he understood tone.
They thought he was reaching for a weapon.
He made a mental note.
"I am killing both of you later."
Dr. Ethan rushed forward to check him.
The bullet had struck Deadpool's shoulder.
Not fatal.
Ethan exhaled in relief.
Deadpool kept his eyes closed, pretending to be unconscious.
Ethan stood up and spoke to the guards calmly, explaining that the wound was not fatal and that he could treat it.
The guards eventually left, locking the heavy iron door behind them.
The cave became quiet.
Ethan gathered bandages, alcohol, forceps, and a scalpel.
He was a doctor.
He knew medicine.
He knew languages.
That was why he was still alive.
"Great haircut, buddy."
The voice came from behind him.
Ethan jumped in shock.
Deadpool was sitting up, smiling and waving.
Ethan placed a hand over his chest.
"You are not good for my heart."
"Science says small shocks are healthy," Deadpool replied.
"That sounds like nonsense."
Ethan approached him calmly.
"You were shot. I need to treat you. Anesthesia is difficult to obtain here."
Deadpool snorted.
"Real men don't need anesthesia."
Before Ethan could react—
Deadpool stuck two fingers directly into the bullet wound.
Ethan's eyes widened in horror.
Deadpool dug around casually.
Then pulled out the bullet himself.
"Delivery complete."
Ethan stared at him.
"You are insane."
"Frequently."
Ethan shook his head and began disinfecting the wound.
When he removed Deadpool's upper clothing, he froze.
The burned, scarred skin extended across his entire body.
It looked like living tissue melted and reshaped.
"How did this happen?"
"Laboratory accident," Deadpool answered casually. "Came out of surgery like this."
"My condolences."
Ethan carefully cleaned and wrapped the wound.
Then his eyes moved upward.
Deadpool was wearing a baseball cap.
Without warning, Ethan grabbed it and pulled it off.
"Your haircut is not bad either, buddy."
Deadpool blinked.
Was Dr. Ethan playful?
He quickly recovered.
"Compared to yours? Mine is amateur. You've achieved the perfect balance of desert landscape and mountain lake."
Suddenly—
A sharp tug on the bandage.
Deadpool hissed.
"Ow! Easy! Rough men don't win hearts!"
Ethan smiled slightly.
"I wanted to test something."
He tied the final knot.
"And science proves small shocks are good for the body."
Deadpool narrowed his eyes.
"That is still nonsense."
Ethan leaned back slightly, studying him.
"You heal quickly."
"Yes."
"You remove bullets with your fingers."
"Yes."
"You joke after being shot."
"Also yes."
Ethan folded his arms thoughtfully.
"You are not ordinary."
Deadpool looked at him seriously for once.
"Neither are you."
Silence lingered for a moment.
In the distance, wind howled outside the cave entrance.
Deadpool's expression slowly changed.
Because he understood something important.
If this was truly before Iron Man's creation—
Then very soon—
Tony Stark would arrive here as a captive.
Very soon—
The arc reactor would be built.
Very soon—
History would begin.
Deadpool looked at Ethan with sudden intensity.
"Tell me something."
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"If a genius weapons inventor arrives here… and builds something impossible… would you help him?"
Ethan's eyes darkened slightly.
"I would help any man who chooses to save lives instead of destroy them."
Deadpool smiled slowly.
"Good answer."
Because now—
He was standing at the birthplace of a legend.
And Dr. Ethan—
Was far more mischievous than he looked.
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