"I... can't..." Tony gasped. "The reactor... it's dying. I pushed it too hard. I need..."
He didn't finish the sentence, but Abel understood instantly. The prototype arc reactor had finite power. Extended combat, repeated repulsor blasts, sustained flight—it all drained the battery. Tony had exceeded the design specifications.
"What do you need?" Abel asked, already running calculations.
"The reactor from Stane's suit," Tony said, his voice tight with pain and desperation. "If I can get that power core, I can swap it out. The systems are compatible—I built both designs. Just... please..."
Abel moved without hesitation. He walked over to the Iron Monger suit and examined the chest panel where the arc reactor was housed. The casing was sealed tight, fused with military-grade fasteners designed to be tamper-proof. A normal person would need cutting equipment to access it.
Abel wasn't a normal person.
He raised his wand and cast Diffindo repeatedly, the cutting curse slicing through the sealed compartment with surgical precision. The reactor's housing cracked open, revealing the identical palladium-core power source inside—a second arc reactor, presumably built for Stane's suit to match Tony's design.
Abel carefully extracted it and carried it back to Tony.
Tony had already partially opened his own armor plating by the time Abel arrived, his hands shaking from exhaustion and pain. The original arc reactor was barely functional, its glow almost gone. With trembling hands, Tony grabbed the new reactor from Abel and quickly disconnected the dying power source, replacing it with the fresh one from Stane's suit.
The moment the new reactor locked into place, the arc reactor blazed to life—bright blue, powerful, full of energy.
Tony's entire body relaxed, drawing in a deep breath. He lay back on the ground for a moment, just breathing, letting the new power course through his suit's systems.
"Thank you," Tony said finally, his voice stronger now. "You saved my life. Twice tonight." He sat up slowly, looking at the wand in Abel's hand with confusion. "What is that thing anyway? That... device you're holding. It emits light, fire, all kinds of energy and effects. But I don't see any obvious power source. No circuits. No battery. Is it some kind of embedded energy device? Quantum tech? What am I looking at?"
Abel looked down at the wand, then back at Tony. He'd planned for this moment carefully. Now was the time to begin the next phase of the collaboration.
"This thing," Abel said simply, "is not a technological product. This is my magic wand.There is no technology, no energy device, no quantum machinery. Just magic."
Tony stared at him for a long moment. Then he laughed—a genuine, almost hysterical laugh. "You're really kidding me right now. There is no magic in this world. This is not a Disney movie."
"You know too little about the world," Abel replied, his tone neither defensive nor condescending. Just matter-of-fact.
"I don't like what you're saying," Tony said, but there was something in his voice that suggested he wasn't completely dismissing the idea. "I believe there are aliens in this world. I think I'll see them sooner or later."
Abel looked at him quietly. "You're right. I think you will see a lot of things you don't expect in the future. Many of them will be far stranger than magic."
Before Tony could respond, they both heard the sound of engines approaching rapidly from multiple directions. Black SUVs screeching to a halt, agents in tactical gear moving with military precision, weapons drawn but not yet aimed.
And in the middle of the agents, protected by their formation, was Pepper Potts.
Abel recognized them immediately—SHIELD operatives. They hadn't been renamed yet, still operating under their official designation. The man leading them would be Coulson, definitely. Early thirties, suit, expression of controlled determination.
This was a complication Abel hadn't wanted.
"People are here," Abel said to Tony, his voice low and urgent. "I don't want to meet them. It will be troublesome."
"People? Who—" Tony started to ask.
"You'll know right away," Abel said, already preparing his departure. "Though I don't like them personally, they shouldn't be considered bad people to you. Your safety should be guaranteed."
Tony looked desperately at the arriving agents, then back at Abel. "Wait—if you're leaving, how do we... what's your number? Can we exchange contact info? Facebook? Twitter? Something?"
"There's no need," Abel said, and he was already wrapping black smoke around his figure again, preparing the obscuration spell. "I think we should be able to meet soon enough. When the time is right."
The SHIELD agents were closing in now, weapons lowering as they saw Tony standing safely, conscious and mobile. Coulson was in the lead, his eyes already cataloging the scene—Stane's unconscious body in the destroyed suit, the second arc reactor scattered nearby, and Abel, standing in deliberate shadow.
Before anyone could call out or raise a weapon, Abel pointed his wand downward. Using Levitation on himself, he shot upward into the night sky, rising fast and high. The black smoke obscured his features, his build, anything that could be used to identify him.
By the time the SHIELD agents realized what was happening, he was already a silhouette against the night sky, disappearing toward the upper atmosphere.
Coulson watched the figure vanish, his eyes narrowing as he processed the exit trajectory, the way the figure moved, the hint of magic in the air that even he—trained as he was—couldn't quite categorize.
He'd seen someone use magic before. Just once. Someone who'd killed a man named Kilgrave in Hell's Kitchen. The exit pattern was similar. The confidence was similar. The power signature was... similar.
Coulson pulled out his phone.
"Sharon," he said when she picked up. "I need you to investigate something."
When Abel arrived home, the apartment was dark and quiet. Theresa wasn't back from the restaurant yet—apparently there had been some visiting gourmets that week, and her restaurant was operating at full capacity. She'd be working late most nights.
Which meant Abel had time to work.
He sat at his desk with a fresh bottle of iced Coke and his personal research notes. The encounter with Tony had provided valuable data. He'd watched Stark's tactical thinking, his adaptability, his willingness to improvise in combat. The man was brilliant—arrogant, yes, but brilliant.
And he was dying.
The arc reactor was keeping him alive, but it was poisoning him. The palladium core was slowly toxifying his body, metal compounds accumulating in his bloodstream. Abel had maybe six months, maybe less, before Tony would need a permanent solution. A cure.
That was Step Two of the collaboration.
END CHAPTER 23