Marvel: Playing Iron Man, Falling In and Out of Love with Jinx

That same afternoon, at a certain shipyard.

"Think this place will work?"

Miss Fortune pushed open the sliding door and pointed at the empty shipyard. Hooks hung from the beams, and tools once used for shipbuilding lay scattered. At the center sat a second-hand furnace, freshly delivered and just installed.

Beside the furnace stood a makeshift workbench, clearly prepared with care. Next to it were all sorts of metal materials she'd scrounged up in a short time. Neatly stacked ingots sat alongside broken armor, dented shields, rusted hooks, chipped cleavers, and even a shattered scimitar.

"This..."

Duke rubbed his chin. Even the worst workshops in Zaun were better equipped than this.

As for that so-called workbench Miss Fortune had proudly prepared, in Duke's eyes, it was painfully primitive. Any single tool from his personal lab was worth more than everything laid out here combined.

"Sigh..."

He covered his face, too embarrassed to crush her enthusiasm. "Alright, let me give it a shot."

"Nothing we can do, this is just how Bilgewater is."

Miss Fortune offered a sheepish smile. Even this second-hand furnace had cost triple its value and nearly broke Revan's legs fetching it.

And the metal stockpile?

Bilgewater, along with the entire Serpent Isles, was resource-poor. No mining, no raw materials. She'd already bought out every ingot on the market. The rest, this pile of junk, was tossed in with pity.

"I'll do my best to make something decent for you. I'll even throw in a bit of my personal stash."

Duke reached into his inventory and tossed her a pristine Demacian steel ingot. He had prepared a reserve of 290-grade materials and tools for just such creative whims.

He hadn't planned to use them. But what she gathered was simply too crude.

"Just this piece alone could buy out everything you've gathered here."

"Come on now, aren't we partners?"

Only now did Miss Fortune realize just how lucky she was to be working with Duke. That single casually tossed ingot could spark bloodshed among smaller factions.

Pride, attempting to fire up the shoddy furnace, accidentally burned right through it.

Duke slapped his own face. "Alright, forget it. I'll just use my own gear. What is this junk even supposed to be?"

He began pulling out item after item: from a compact forge to hammers of all sizes. Miss Fortune was stunned. Revan and the others behind her could only gape, swallowing hard.

The tools Duke pulled out could buy their entire ship, the Siren, along with their entire crew.

"Do you carry a whole factory on you or what?"

It took a while before Miss Fortune regained her senses.

Duke rolled his eyes. "Sorry, I'm a Master Craftsman."

"And if you ever saw my lab, you'd probably faint."

"If I ever get the chance, you have to show me! I grew up in a workshop!" she said, clutching the Demacian steel with both hands, curiosity burning in her eyes.

"Don't act like such a bumpkin."

Duke grabbed the ingot from her hands, tossed it into the forge, then peeled off his coat and handed it to her.

"Go find Graves, and get him over here. Also, make sure my people are settled properly."

"No problem! Revan!"

"Captain, can't I let someone else do it?"

Revan stared longingly at Duke feeding materials into the compact forge. A Master Craftsman! Watching one at work up close, it was a rare opportunity!

"Stop whining. Go!"

Miss Fortune barked. Revan reluctantly left, glancing back every few steps. Duke rolled up his sleeves and motioned for Pride to breathe flame and ignite the forge. Then, he stepped into the pile of junk.

"Trash, trash, it's all trash!"

"Seriously, is there nothing usable here?"

"And these bought ingots are impure, need to be separated!"

"I've gained a whole new understanding of how broke Bilgewater really is."

Duke rummaged through the pile and pulled out a few salvageable pieces, handing them to Wally to melt down. Meanwhile, he began sketching schematics on the spot.

Back then, Duke had a frugal mindset, stretching every resource to its limits, turning junk into miracles.

But now?

He had money. Why suffer?

Top-tier forge?

Buy it.

Best crucible?

Buy it.

Finest tools?

Buy them all!

He was rich and proud of it.

Iron Man wasn't just known for his suit and genius, it was also his money.

Duke inherited all of that.

With an inventory system, he became even more indulgent. Thanks to resources from the Ferros family, his stash held a mountain of backup gear. Even if he had duplicates in his lab, he always kept spares.

"Need a hand?"

Miss Fortune had rolled up her sleeves, taken off her hat, and tied up her hair, ready to work.

"I learned a bit from my mother."

"As long as you don't get in the way."

"Don't underestimate me!"

She cracked her knuckles, full of fighting spirit.

Duke strapped on his toolbelt while Pride melted the metal nearby.

Work began.

An hour and a half later...

After settling everyone else, Revan returned with Graves in tow.

The moment they stepped through the door, a wave of scorching heat hit them head-on.

"Whoa, it's like a furnace in here!"

Graves spat out his cigar, took a few minutes to adjust at the doorway, then finally stepped inside.

Duke was hammering a metal plate on the anvil, while Miss Fortune sat at her workbench, sanding a high-quality piece of wood.

"Holy hell..."

Graves walked closer and finally noticed what lay around the work area. The materials alone were enough to buy a new ship, and maybe bludgeon Twisted Fate to death with leftover cash.

Shuriman crystal, clear as glass, piled on the table. Demacian rune-steel scattered across the floor. Dense brass being used as a leg prop. Frost-shards from Freljord, spiritual lumber from Ionia, and Noxian black iron...

All rare, expensive materials, thrown around like garbage.

"Boss, did you hijack a cargo ship or something? Where'd you get all this stuff?"

"I carry it with me," Duke replied without looking up, hammering the armor plate meant for Miss Fortune.

Meanwhile, she was crafting the stock for Graves' new gun.

Her materials had been such garbage that Duke gave up and just used his own reserves.

"You carry this with you?"

Graves' cigar fell from his mouth as he stared at the polished crystal, swallowing nervously.

"That's insane. If I'd known you were this rich, I wouldn't have tried to rob Piltover's clockwork vault."

"If I'd just kidnapped you, I could've had whatever I wanted!"

Duke dunked the forged plate into a solution to temper it, ignoring Graves' nonsense.

"If you think you can manage that, go ahead and try."

"Let's see if you can rob me first, or if I turn you into a half-human, half-machine puppet."

"Just a joke, boss!"

Graves chuckled awkwardly. Duke set down his hammer and walked over.

"Arms out, feet together. I need your measurements to custom-build your weapon."

"You're really making me a new one?"

Graves immediately complied. Duke measured each part of his body and muscle group, estimating his endurance.

As he worked, he discreetly infused Graves with his own magic, just in case that bastard ever tried to bolt.

"There's a big job tomorrow. You in?"

"What kind of job?"

"Taking out Gangplank."

Duke said it so casually, Graves broke out in cold sweat.

"Boss, you're joking, right?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

Duke patted him on the shoulder. "Turn around. I need to check your back muscle tolerance."

"Seriously!?"

Graves was shocked at Duke's sheer boldness.

Duke said flatly, "Gangplank and I have reached this point. What do you think I'm gonna do, back off?"

"...Alright."

Graves nodded quickly. Deep down, he made a mental note: if they gained the upper hand, he'd loot what he could and run. If not, he'd protect Duke and help him escape, to settle the debt he owed.

Sensing Graves' thoughts, Duke poured even more magic into him.

Bastard. You dare think like that? After we take down Gangplank, you're next on my list.

End of chapter...

To be continued...

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