Tony was standing in the middle of the terrorist thugs, who were carting materials in at top speed. He was shouting orders, in full director mode, with the girl translating quickly beside him. "If this is going to be my workstation, I want it well lit, well lit up. I'm gonna need welding gear, I don't care if it's acetylene or propane."
As the girl translated, she muttered, "Well aren't you the little diva?" Tony gave her look as she continued rattling his instructions off in perfect Arabic. Tony continued. "I'll need a soldering station, I'm gonna need helmets, I'm gonna need goggles, I would like a smelting cup. I need two sets of precision tools."
After it was all set up, Tony was left alone again with the girl for company. With nimble fingers, he dismantled one of his missiles.
"How many languages do you speak?" Tony asked her. "A lot," she replied. "But apparently not enough for this place. They speak Arabic, Urdu, Dari, Pashto, Mongolian, Arzic, Russian…"
Tony pulled the main part of the missile out. "Who are these people?" "They…are your loyal customers, sir," she said, giving him a look. Tony looked up, slightly shocked. "They call themselves the Ten Rings," she added. The camera watched their every move.
"You know, we might be more productive if you included me in the planning process," the girl said, kneeling beside where Tony was dismantling the missile. "Ya-huh," Tony said, slamming his fist against the top of the missile. The head came off and he pulled the main explosive part out.
He delicately tinkered with the main part of the missile. He removed a small piece of metal and threw the rest over his shoulder. "What is that?" the girl asked. "That's palladium," Tony said, holding it up so she could see. "Point one-five grams. We need at least one point six, so why don't we go break down the other eleven?"
The girl turned slowly and went to get the other missiles.
Tony worked quickly and efficiently to form a mold. He put the palladium in it and the girl held it over the burning fire until it melted. "Careful," Tony warned. "Be careful, we only get one shot at this." "Relax," the girl said. "I have steady hands. Why do you think you're still alive, huh?"
Tony set his car battery on the table as the girl gently poured the palladium into the mold Tony had made. "What do I call you?" Tony asked her, realizing for the first time that he didn't know her name.
"My name is Biela," she said. "Biela," Tony repeated. "Unusual name. Nice to meet you." The girl smiled, a real smile, not the fake one she'd used around the terrorists. "Nice to meet you, too," she said.
Tony placed the ring of palladium onto the disc. He worked with two sets of precision tools to make the minute adjustments necessary to construct his project. Finally it was done, and it gave off a bluish-white light as Tony played with the settings.
Biela came over and knelt beside him, awed. "That doesn't look like a Jericho missile," she said. "That's because it's a miniaturized arc reactor," Tony replied. "I got a big one powering my factory at home. This'll keep the shrapnel out of my heart."
"How much could it generate?" Biela asked, still in awe. "If my math is right," Tony said, "and it always is, three gigajoules per second." Biela's eyes widened. "That could run your heart for fifty lifetimes." "Yeah," Tony said, "or something big for fifteen minutes."
With the arc reactor ready, Tony showed Biela the plans he'd been working on. He brought her over to the light and laid the papers on top of each other. "This is our ticket out of here," Tony said. "What is it?" Biela asked. "Flatten them out and look," Tony said, as he smoothed the papers down.
Biela gasped as the armor appeared. "Wow," she said with a slight smile. "Impressive."