Disclaimer: I do not own any of the movies set up in the Marvel Cinematic Universe nor any of the Star Wars movies, cartoons, games, books or comics. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial aim. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.

The Iron Sith

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Prologue I: Rebirth

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location unknown

time unknown

When I awoke, it was to tearing searing hot pain in my chest, right above my heart. I felt oppressive, suffocating heat which immediately brought the thought of a desert to my mind. My first instinct was to grab the Force and ensure that I was as safe as possible.

My next act was was to freeze in shock when I grasped for my power and found nothing. Well, kriff, I was in big trouble this time around. Yasalmir? Someone powerful and skilled enough in the Force to cut me off even temporarily? I could recall a few Sith artifacts that might do it. A handful of alchemy concoctions too.

A wave of dizziness slammed its ugly fist into my mind. The Force? Alchemy? What nonsense was this?

I felt like falling through an endless chasm. Memories flew past me like a moths of light. I remember being a slave. No, I was the son of Andrew Stark. No, I wasn't! I was a Sith! No, I was… I was… My head pounded as if I've drunk too much again. Huh. I haven't gotten drunk since my wife died.

What? Wife?! I'm a bachelor and proud of it! Why the hell would I tie up myself with just one woman? Besides they all get boring once we begin to talk… Like those twins last December… That was nice evening…

The pounding in my head picked up a notch. It sounded like a bunch of Gamoreans running chased by a starving Rankor.

What's with the Star Wars references?!

Who the hell was I?!

I… Stark, no Veil… Who is that?!

The pressure inside my skull increased and I knew no more…

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The next time I awoke, it was still hot enough to boil someone in their own sweat. While my chest continued to hurt, the pain wasn't so sharp. Even better, my head was a bit clearer this time around. No one was trying to use my skull as a drum, though my memories were still a mess. What the hell did I drink last night?!

My nose twitched. Sweat and dust, machine oil, metal burning wood and something cooking. The last scent was somewhat familiar, though I couldn't place it.

I cracked an eye open, deciding I will be sorting out my messed up memories later and looked around. It was quite dark with dancing light coming from a fire trying to chase of the twilight. Above me was an uneven rock. Huh, a cave? That sounded wrong.

What on Earth would I do in a cave of all places?!

I tried to get up only to flinch back when something pulled at my chest which exploded in sharp pain. I groaned and looked wildly around. Only now I noticed something sticking from my nose. This was getting worse by the moment. Before I could think my hands were moving and I was pulling whatever was in my right nostril.

Something scraped through my trachea and I pulled harder, then began gasping for breath. Only now I looked at the bloody thing – a thin plastic tube. What was this, primitive central?

I forced myself to calm down. Why was I panicking anyway? Even without the Force I wasn't helpless. I froze. Again with the Force. What… I closed my eyes and fell back into the bed. I needed to sort out my head first. It took some doing but I fell back into a meditative trance and began examining my memories. There was a new set of them stuck in my head. There was no personality with them, yet they felt fresher, more tangible than the rest. I still could remember clearly that I was Delkatar Veil, the Dark Lord of the Sith. Yet, I could remember being Tony Stark… a man who was determined to waste so much potential… yet I found myself envying him. Its been so long since I could simply enjoy living day for day with no real threats hanging over my head.

How the kriff did I end up here? I tried to remember…

Explosions, shooting and fear washed over me. Stark's last memories were fragmented and confused – no real surprise for his first time under fire… while tipsy too.

I tried to remember where I knew the name Tony Stark from – I'm certain it wasn't just from my new memories. Damn, has it really been more than sixty years since I was back on Earth?

I could vaguely recall something about a man flying in a suit of red power armor. Very slim and advanced… How the hell could someone put so much tech in such a small package? The sixty years worth of engineering know how and scientific theories I forced myself to learn by heart began to to mutiny against the very idea.

I pushed the thoughts of such impossibility back. I was stuck in another dimension – for the third time I think. That explained why I couldn't reach the Force. My power might not even exist here. That realization made me shiver with fear and this time the emotion wasn't a fuel for my powers. I was just a weak, potentially wounded baseline human.

I was vulnerable.

The very thought sent a lance of red hot fury through my system. I didn't survive for decades among the Sith to give up now! I didn't claw my way to the top ranks of the Empire to let such a setback, no matter how grave, break me! If I didn't have the Force anymore I would find another source of power! Another pillar of strength! I will overcome any obstacles standing in my way. I will be free again!

I opened my eyes and glared at my surroundings. Without the Force I felt blind and deaf. The world was distant and less alive.

It was just now that I noticed I wasn't alone in the cave. Kriff, my senses were gone to shit without the Force. Or was this just Tony's fault? A not particularly tall balding man had his back turned to me and was busy shaving. I tried to get up only the get my chest painfully tugged again.

"I wouldn't do that in your place." The man pointed out.

I looked down. My chest was bandaged and there were a pair of black wires sticking out. I traced them up to a large battery of some kind resting on a wooden cupboard next to the bed.

"What the hell is that?" I rasped.

"That? It keeps you alive." The man turned around and smiled tiredly.

His face was gaunt with a thin graying patch of beard over his chin. He wore a dirty suit with a decent cut of the type I haven't seen since I was on Earth a very long time ago. A fire burning in a wooden stove nearby made his glasses shine eery in the twilight.

"I dug out all the shrapnel I could, but there was some I couldn't reach. Without that elector-magnet to keep them in place, the rest will enter your arteries and you'll be dead in a week. If you're luck." He looked around, brightened and picked up a small glass sample case which he threw at me.

I was barely able to snatch it before it hit my bandages, which made me wince. My reflexes were painfully slow even for a normal human.

"What is this?" I raised the vial to the flickering fire and looked in. There were a few very sharp pieces of metal.

"A souvenir, Mr. Stark."

Lucky me. Digging the remaining shrapnel would be easy – with the Force. Without it… What was the state of medicine back on Earth?

The man began to babble about some conference where we supposedly met a few years back, but I ignored him making the odd encouraging sound. My mind was on the shrapnel. What a stupid way to go. I looked down at the bandages. I needed to get that fixed but first – find my way to civilization.

"How did we end up here?" I asked.

"Ah. I was wondering when you would think about that." He gave me a pained smile. "Smile to the camera." He pointed a thumb over his back to the far corner of the cave.

I glanced that way and sure enough I could see a red light there. I had to squint and only now I was able to see the faint outline of a large, terribly primitive camera. Well at least that was my first impression. Who new what was under its casing…

Someone shouted in unfamiliar language outside, then there was the sound of a metal bolt being removed from the door.

"Do as I do!" The man said in frantic tone. He picked up the battery attached to my chest and put it in the center of the cave while urging me to follow his example. He put his arms behind his head and smiled nervously at the door.

I glared but followed suit. This wasn't the time for heroics.

The doors opened and a bunch of shabby looking people with guns entered. Their obvious leader came in front, spread his large arms at us and began babbling in that same unfamiliar language. Graying hair and beard, a gun stuck in his belt very large at least in comparison to the men behind him.

They were quite thin, though I could see wiry muscles on some of them. The way they held their guns – no proper training. The weapon themselves on the other hand looked brand new which was at odds with the people wearing them. They looked like your bog standard bunch of nobody terrorists slash resistance fighters. Those usually armed themselves with anything they could fudge together or steal… when they weren't supplied by someone with nice toys so they could ruing someone else's day.

This was beginning to smell on the later. I've done the odd black ops or insurgent suppression back in the day. I would recognize a bunch of fanatics who weren't exactly sure what they were doing besides fighting the 'enemy'. Yesterday I would have dismissed them as no threat at all. Today, with a battery stuck to my chest and without the Force?

The very idea that this bunch of scum could be dangerous to me grated. All I wanted was to crush them like the bugs they were. Not only these fools, but all their friends and everyone who had the bright idea of supporting them.

Instead I had to swallow my fury, bid my time and waited for the man who apparently patched me up to translate.

"Welcome, Tony Stark! The most famous mass murderer in the American history!"

I had to fight valiantly not to roll my eyes, which might get me shot somewhere survivable. What people stuck up on one insignificant backwater world know about mass murder? How many planets have they turned into glass? How many sapient species have they exterminated? How many trillions have died by their command? I bit off a sneer and smiled pleasantly.

"Thank him for the compliment." I nodded to my translator who suddenly looked like he regretted saving my life.

"Its an honor for him to meet you." The translator glared at me while our 'host' grinned and continued to speak. "He wants you to build him a rocket."

"A rocket?" I repeated. They kidnapped Tony Stark and by extension me so we could build them a rocket?! My already quite low estimate of my kidnapper's mental capacity suddenly got into a steep nosedive. The only rocket I'll be building them is the one I would strap them on before launching it.

Nah, I didn't feel that merciful.

"A Jericho missile just the one you demonstrated." The translator continued and our kidnapper stuck a piece of paper in my hands.

Huh. A paper… the last time I saw and touched paper was when I was stuck on that primitive world for six months fifteen or so years back…

The tactile feeling of paper in my feeling was quite nice. I turned the sheet around to see a picture of a missile with on its launching pad. Ah, I remembered now. Jericho – multiple independent warheads built upon repulsor technology… There was no way I would be able to built it with the tools these jokers could get their hands on. No matter. I will be building weapons, just not for them.

"It's going to be possible, but very, very hard." I smiled at the bearded man, while wondering how exactly I was going to murder the kriff out of him and his friends. "I'll need tools, parts even weapons."

The translator whose name I might have to learn one of these days continued to glare at me, but did his job.

Our host beamed at me and waved us to follow.

I took a good look at the part of the cave complex we were led through, making notes of good choke points, number of people, armaments and where supplies could be seen laying around. It was quite large cave network, which wasn't good.

Once we were outside, I frowned. There were a lot of people and weapons out here. A platoon worth, closer to two of the bastards. While not technically impossible, taking them on in a straight up fight would be suicide. While I've seen it done, that was by people with proper armor, weapons, in incredible shape not to mention the training and experience they had – only the later two points counted in my favor and without the Force I was in significant disadvantage anyway.

I needed force multipliers. Explosive too. Lots of explosives…

It was a good thing then that our host brought us to a large pile of Stark Industries gear – which these guys most definitely weren't supposed to have. Once I'm back there would be some house-cleaning. Arranged accidents too. Getting kidnapped by people wielding weapons you produced was kriffing embracing.

The bearded man said something and brought me back into the present.

"He wants to know what do you think." The translator muttered.

"That's a lot of weapons." I nodded in approval. "I'll make him something very special if he tells me how he get them."

Our kidnapper laughed at that response and began talking.

"Perhaps when you've built him the missile. He says there's everything you need to make it in here. He wants a list with the necessary gear and tells you to begin immediately."

The bearded man smiled and offered his hand. I shrugged and shook it while he spoke again.

"When you're done, he says he will let you go."

I smiled.

"No, he won't."

"No." The translator smiled too.

Well, it wast time to build myself some weapons and armor then turn this place into a graveyard. I looked back at the pile of assorted Stark Industries goodies and my smile widened.